A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 502

During the sparring session, Audin realized the state Enkrid was currently in.

“Not a knight, not even a squire…”

What was certain was that his skill had improved—and that wasn’t all. His movements were more precise, his judgment faster, and his reaction time had evolved. And there was something else.

Watching his hands and feet, Audin looked into his eyes.

Even before, Enkrid’s eyes had a kind of heat in them. A will that drove him toward becoming a knight, toward his dream.

But now, there was something more.

Something like certainty.

The certainty of someone who had wandered aimlessly but finally found a proper signpost.

And there was even more to be surprised about.

Tap, thud, crack!

While Audin was thinking, Enkrid's fist flew toward him. Audin blocked it with his elbow, then swept his hand outward. As he brushed it aside, Enkrid shot out a punch with his right hand, which Audin caught with his palm.

But Enkrid didn’t stop at blocking—he kept moving his feet during the exchange, trying to gain a better position.

Is strength alone enough to fight well?

If that were the case, then a giant would be the strongest in the land.

But fighting didn’t work like that. Battle was the sum of many factors.

Like how understanding the point of force transmission and precision was far more useful than just brute strength.

Balraf-style martial arts had originally been developed as a way for the weak to overcome the strong.

Audin had added his own insights to that foundation.

To execute the techniques properly, a deep understanding of how force worked was essential.

Was Enkrid naturally gifted in that area?

No. He was far below average.

And yet now, he understood the essence of the technique—and even adapted it.

Using a punch to draw attention and then subtly maneuvering to gain advantage with his footwork—

He even tried twisting Audin’s forearm once he got close.

Instead of simply using strength to break free, Audin kicked off the ground and spun once midair in place.

His body size rivaled a bear or a giant, but his movements were squirrel-like.

Immediately, Enkrid aimed a whip-like kick at Audin’s shin as he descended.

Smack.

He couldn’t avoid that one, so he endured it with brute force.

Audin’s rock-hard muscles were like armor—Enkrid’s kick couldn’t break through. Holding out wasn’t difficult.

What surprised Audin was the process that had led up to this moment.

The psychological exchanges, the grasp of applied force, the insight into the core of the technique…

It wasn’t something to complain about being surprised by.

Audin simply asked what he saw.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Enkrid was rushing in with a smile wider than any before—so the question came naturally.

“Yeah.”

Enkrid nodded.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and fell from his chin.

Audin let out a chuckle and backed off.

If he committed to grappling, he could still match him—but in pure strikes, it was becoming harder to overwhelm Enkrid.

And if Enkrid picked up a sword? If he fought with everything he had?

“I’d lose.”

Audin admitted it honestly.

Of course, in fights to the death, the outcome isn’t always set. Everyone here understood that much.

Still, if you looked at their current state alone—yes, Enkrid was ahead.

Audin laughed, finding it absurd… and delightful.

“Hey, wildcat, want me to give you a buzz cut?”

Off to the side, Rem was picking a fight with Jaxon again.

Frokk was training with a whip and sword.

Nearby, Teresa was spinning her shield and watching the sparring. She was up next.

“I learned a lot from Brother Audin,” Teresa said as she stepped forward with her shield.

Enkrid exhaled and nodded.

“I’ve improved too.”

More than a little, actually.

And so they kept fighting, again and again.

From the side, Rophod let out a sigh of admiration.

In a corner of the training field, Вell’s pupils trembled violently as he watched the scene unfold.

“What… is this?”

Вell had never once despaired upon seeing someone else's skill.

Because he believed his talent was unmatched.

He was a man who could gauge not just the present, but the future.

Given enough time, Вell believed he would catch up to all of them.

“Start with the captain…”

Then he’d move on to the gray-haired one. He had a plan.

Seeing Ragna become a knight had nearly crushed him—but in the end, he overcame it.

He’d taken a step forward. Вell believed he’d escaped the swamp of despair.

Or rather, he had believed that.

“I can do it too.”

When Enkrid returned, Вell had intended to spar with him—and maybe even teach him a thing or two.

But what was this now?

Rem, that barbarian, had returned as a monster who could now fight on par with knights.

Sure, maybe that was possible.

But what truly shocked Вell… was Enkrid.

He’d thought Enkrid was someone he’d catch up to quickly.

If his improvement came from effort, Вell could do that too. With greater talent, he’d surpass him.

So he trained—hard. Without sleep, without breaks.

He braced for defeat and even joined Rophod when he charged at Ragna.

He rolled and crawled through Audin’s training, too.

It was painful.

He hadn’t worked that hard since first picking up a sword.

But he endured—because he could feel himself improving.

After suffering so much, surely the fruit would be sweet. That belief kept him going.

That was the logic of the world—his understanding of how the world worked.

But now, looking at Enkrid… the confidence of winning vanished completely.

What does it mean to expect defeat even before a duel begins?

Вell had good eyes—he could see how skilled Enkrid had become.

Every swing, every feint, every decision—it was all too sharp.

Self-doubt reared its head.

“Was I actually talentless all along?”

Cracks formed in Вell’s heart.

They had started with Ragna—and now they were beginning to split open.

His expression froze without him realizing it.

No joke, no matter how funny, could make him laugh in that state.

“Fiancé, shouldn’t you play with me too?”

Shinar stood face-to-face with Enkrid.

Вell saw it too—but his eyes were not on the present.

What did some fairy matter?

“If I have no talent… then what should I do?”

Should he give it all up and return to herding sheep?

But could a shepherd on the frontier survive with such a fragile heart?

No. Then what should he do?

Join the army as a common soldier? Here? Why? For what? No, not that.

Should he get a job at a general store? Didn’t the inn say they needed help?

A trading company guard wouldn’t be a bad job either…

He sank deeper into himself.

While Enkrid welcomed Shinar’s words, he glanced at Вell—who was visibly deflated and drowning in a cloud of gloom.

What’s his deal now?

It happened to be the moment Shinar walked over.

As Enkrid turned to her, he saw Вell’s dazed eyes, completely unfocused.

Then he turned back to Shinar—her emerald-green eyes and golden hair drifting like sunlight.

She was tying her hair back.

The flowing strands of gold slid through her fingers like silk—like a golden waterfall made of beauty.

In battle, her long hair was useful, but for training, she considered it a hindrance and tied it up.

Depending on one’s perspective, it looked like nothing more than a beautiful painting.

It was a beauty that surpassed human standards—an otherworldly charm.

Ordinarily, that kind of beauty would make people gaze at her in worship.

But maybe… after seeing her often enough, she might begin to feel like a woman.

A frontier shepherd, after all, was someone who tackled hard things head-on.

“So that’s what this is.”

His intuition didn’t exactly fire—but the sequence of events made the flow clear.

Enkrid’s eyes sparkled.

“Going forward, I think you should refrain from calling me your fiancé.”

He was now a general, and while he dropped formal speech in urgent moments, he still found it more comfortable to be polite with Shinar.

She tilted her head while tying her hair.

“Why?”

“Just… because it’s better that way.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“If that’s the case, then I guess there’s no helping it.”

If she didn’t want to, what could he do?

Beating Shinar into submission wouldn’t make her listen to him.

When it came to stubbornness, she was probably the most immovable person he knew.

Except maybe Rem, who kept challenging Jaxon to duels of courtship without ever giving up.

“Hey, go pray at the temple or something.”

Rem said, looking at Enkrid. He clearly understood what Enkrid was trying to say.

That guy was off the mark again.

Jaxon’s gaze moved between Enkrid and Bell.

“Hm.”

A quiet, dry cough, but its meaning was obvious: he was talking nonsense again.

“There are people who’d cry over that one word.”

Enkrid said again to Shinar. It was his way of being considerate, even while training—this much he could still do.

Bell was still staring blankly into space.

He couldn’t even hear what they were saying anymore.

He just kept mumbling: general store, inn, mercenary, trading company… over and over again.

“Brother, why not just spar with me?”

Audin said with a smile.

And Enkrid agreed.

This was all he could do for now.

Instead, he cheered Bell on silently.

He had always respected those with a dream.

Hang in there, Bell.

Nothing in this world was impossible.

Rem, Audin, and Jaxon all had a general idea of what state Bell was in.

He was crushed by the despair of seeing someone more talented than himself.

No one here was a stranger to that feeling.

They’d seen it happen plenty of times.

Rem had seen it out west too—some tried to hold on, but in the end, he’d given up trying to talk sense into them.

They had to be willing to listen.

Some of them made it through. Others disappeared. Some quit being shamans or warriors altogether.

Jaxon had been the kind to kill anyone who tried to prove themselves by killing him.

So no one like that dared stick around near him.

Audin always tried to guide them, but in the end, his results were no better than Rem’s.

Everyone stumbles—but there are those who get back up, and those who stay down. That was the only difference.

And the three of them didn’t think Bell would break.

Fall into despair after looking at Enkrid?

Sure, maybe at first.

But after a week? After a month?

Enkrid was just insane.

Mad about swords. Mad about training.

If you kept watching him, you’d get back up.

That was only natural.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Bell had a uniquely strong “serpent’s heart.” Maybe his jealousy would poison him, and he wouldn’t rise again. But that wasn’t their concern.

Rem had one thought when he looked at Bell:

“Unexpected.”

He thought a frontier shepherd would be the kind to grit his teeth and pull through—but he was just lying there flailing.

Like someone drowning in a puddle not even a hand’s width deep.

On the other hand, Rophod, who seemed like a pampered noble, was different.

“Teach me a thing or two, please!”

He was still shouting like that even now.

He’d charged in like a madman when Ragna was around, and somehow survived.

Not just survived—he’d improved.

He still had the desire to grow, and he wasn’t afraid to keep pushing forward.

Rem didn’t care about the difference between the two, didn’t want to know either.

That was their business.

Instead, he turned his gaze to the spar between Shinar and Enkrid.

Shinar had returned from the forest the other day full of energy and spirit.

She hadn’t told anyone, but that /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ had been a near-death experience.

“If you don’t like ‘fiancé,’ how about ‘betrothed’?”

“Have you improved at all?”

Enkrid replied out of habit, and those words—almost like a reflex—put a faint smile on Shinar’s face like magic.

“Watch that smile too.”

He didn’t even know why he said it.

Shinar didn’t care. She picked up her sword.

Now was the time to speak through blades.

The leaf-like nydil blades obscured half her face.

Everyone, Jaxon included, already knew the truth.

Shinar had already ascended to the rank of a knight among fairies.

In other words—a Fairy Knight.

***

The sparring ended in Enkrid’s defeat, but his face was brighter than ever.

Because he had learned something—something valuable.

He blocked the spirit-forged sword that he couldn’t stop before.

After that, he even found an opening and went in for a wrestling move.

In close combat, Shinar moved faster than ever before.

Wasn’t a fairy’s greatest strength their light body?

She proved it.

As she began circling Enkrid with light, quick steps, her image multiplied—

Twelve afterimages of Shinar surrounded him.

Lua Gharne puffed her cheek with a pbbt sound as she watched—and coincidentally, at that same moment, Shinar’s sword struck Enkrid.

There wasn’t a single fake among the twelve leaf-blades.

Only someone at the level of a knight would see the differences in timing and sequence.

Enkrid had opened the eye to see a moment ahead—

But he still couldn’t block it.

He saw it, but his body didn’t follow.

“So you’ve awakened foresight.”

Shinar said, observing him.

Jaxon and Audin, quietly surprised, glanced at Rem.

This bastard must’ve seen it already in the West.

That’s what their looks meant.

“Shit… his skill’s starting to explode now.”

Even Rem looked surprised.

Which meant—this was something even Rem hadn’t seen before.

Everyone present—except Bell—recognized what they were witnessing:

Enkrid was breaking through his shell.

He was changing by the day.

“Captain!”

And right on cue, Kraiss returned.

“You’re late,” Enkrid said while still seated.

Kraiss, cloaked and hooded, beamed with a wide smile.

Behind him came Nurat and a squad of eight sword-wielders outfitted like a personal guard.

Each of them looked about as strong as Torres from Martai.

In other words—top-tier soldiers.

One of them even seemed like a mercenary at the level of a quasi-knight.

But the most surprising was Nurat’s change.

“It’s been a while.”

She gave a slight bow—and the aura around her was completely different from before.