A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 504

Ragna had wandered without washing or eating, yet even after using everything he had, Enkrid couldn’t bring him down.

The sword of the listless slacker had become heavier than before, swifter than before.

Watching that massive greatsword curve as it moved made one feel like they couldn’t possibly block it.

Even so, Enkrid blocked, deflected, and parried Ragna’s sword nine times.

He even slipped in a thrust worthy of being called a knight’s strike.

Ragna dodged it with just a twist of his body.

In the flow of Ragna’s movements, Enkrid recalled one of the knight’s conditions Lua Gharne had mentioned.

“Time.”

Wasn’t it said they possessed different times?

In the time it took Enkrid to swing his sword once, Ragna could twist his body and extend his blade.

It was only possible thanks to reaction speed, athletic ability, and strength that were clearly beyond normal limits.

That wasn’t to say he lacked technique either. He was a true knight, incomparable to a chimera knight.

How could a knight cut down a thousand? The answer lay here.

“If a soldier can thrust once, and a knight can thrust ten times in the same span, then it’s possible.”

That’s what Lua Gharne had said, and Enkrid felt once more what he’d already come to realize.

In fact, realizing even that much was incredible—thanks to what was called foresight, the ability to see a step ahead.

Not that Enkrid was satisfied or content with his current level.

The fire of desire and ambition to grow further still blazed within Enkrid’s blue eyes.

Ragna, seeing those crazy eyes again for the first time in a while, felt entertained.

He hadn’t eaten properly in days, nor gotten much sleep, yet still—

"That’s it?"

So he paid back what he’d taken earlier. Standing over the fallen Enkrid, he tossed down a single comment.

Enkrid didn’t get angry—he chuckled.

Somehow, the stronger his subordinates got, the more they ran their mouths too.

“Cutting in line? Obviously I go first, no? Hm? Huh? Aaaah?”

There had been an incident with Rem throwing a tantrum, claiming Enkrid fought Ragna first.

She had tried to throw her axe on the spot, and when Enkrid stepped in saying he’d go first, this was the result.

Still, she hadn’t jumped in midway or tried to strike from behind.

Her pride wouldn’t allow such things.

Ragna silently watched his returned commander.

With just a single spar, he realized Enkrid had broken through some wall and reached a certain level.

Ragna had no standards for squires, knights, or near-knights.

Why? No particular reason. He simply didn’t care.

In truth, his genius nature had prevented him from forming such standards.

To set a standard is to be trapped within a frame.

And once trapped, one ends up unconsciously fighting to match that frame.

But battle—combat—was unpredictable.

Let your guard down, and even a child cradled in your arms could pierce your heart with a hidden awl.

Of course, if it were Ragna, even if that child turned out to be an assassin and stabbed with an awl, he’d still be fine.

He’d react the instant he felt the prick of the awl against his skin.

That’s what being a knight meant.

But Enkrid, too, seemed like he might be capable of something like that.

Even if his skin was grazed a bit, he’d dodge what needed dodging.

Compared to before, the improvement was unbelievable.

Still, there were areas where he was lacking.

Reaction speed, the speed at which he processed visual input, or physical limits.

It was because he hadn’t yet mastered Will.

Ragna instinctively knew this.

Yet he had nothing to say.

To offer help might instead build a frame and trap him within it.

So he simply watched and gave no advice.

Jaxon, watching nearby, was equally surprised.

The pressure the commander showed while facing Ragna stood out starkly.

It was intimidation.

That is, the natural aura of pressure that comes from someone at the level of a knight.

That damned directionless fool exuded it effortlessly and crushed Enkrid’s spirit and will with it.

And instead of resisting or struggling, Enkrid stirred up his own pressure and swept it aside with ease.

He hadn’t used Will to reject and escape—it had been dismissed through natural pressure.

Once again, it became clear—this was no longer the old commander.

“You bastard!”

In the end, Rem couldn’t hold back and leapt at Ragna, who still hadn’t properly rested.

Their clash was fierce but brief.

It was like a parallel line—they fought, but there was no decisive outcome.

At some point, Enkrid watched the clash of axe and sword moving faster than even his enhanced vision could follow.

Sparks didn’t just fly—they started radiating heat.

And yet neither was going all out.

In the meantime, a few raindrops fell—then a sudden downpour began.

“I held back, you lazy, lost bastard.”

“And you sure learned how to squirm around somewhere.”

They kept growling at each other, but their hands stopped moving.

It was raining too hard now.

“Let’s wash.”

Enkrid said, and somehow even Kraiss ended up joining them as they all headed into the bathhouse.

The place was just like before.

So filled with steam from the hot water that you could barely see ahead, and the cheerful voice of the middle-aged woman who ran the baths.

“Come on in!”

Even her greeting sounded like a knight’s battle cry—bold and spirited as she pointed at the tub for the mud-covered bunch.

“Get naked and get in, quick! It’s been a while since I’ve had anything nice to look at.”

Though she said that, she probably had little real interest in the naked bodies of men.

Enkrid, Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, and Kraiss all stripped completely.

Lua Gharne and Teresa excused themselves.

They thought it was the same as before, but there were a few differences.

Most notably, the large stone tub.

It was made from a huge slab of stone, carved out and polished clean so they could all soak together.

It must’ve taken a very skilled stonemason.

“It was a gift from Lord Greyham.”

Kraiss offered the explanation as they entered the tub.

The water was heated to just the right temperature and quickly loosened their muscles.

Bath culture had spread from the Empire to the entire continent, including Naurillia.

It didn’t exist in the West, but Rem liked it a lot.

It soothed her abrasive heart without her realizing.

“I held back, you bastard.”

“Before you sleep tonight, say a prayer of thanks to whichever god you like. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Now, now, brothers. Let’s not quarrel. The gods are always watching the two of you.”

“Idiots.”

One by one, from Rem to Jaxon, each of them chimed in, and it felt like the heat of the bath rose even more.

Enkrid knew none of them meant it seriously.

Half of it was a joke.

This was how they expressed joy at seeing one another again.

That’s what Enkrid chose to believe.

Still, compared to their first meeting, they were getting along quite well.

Back then, they didn’t just glare—they looked ready to kill.

Rem looked somewhat satisfied.

Maybe because she avoided getting beaten to a pulp?

Could be.

Or maybe she just liked the bath temperature.

“By the way, where did the beastkin lady go?”

Audin asked.

Enkrid looked at him from across the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) tub, thinking he sure asked quickly.

“She went east.”

“I see.”

That was the end of it.

They figured Dunbakel had her reasons.

Respecting another’s decisions—

That wasn’t something they’d known how to do before, but now it was.

Enkrid had always treated them that way, and they accepted it—so they knew they’d grown.

Aside from his skill with a sword, Enkrid was just built differently.

There was much to learn from him.

They all thought so.

Of course, no one would ever actually say it out loud.

“I heard you gave gifts to Commander Shinar and Esther. What about us?”

Kraiss asked, soaking up to his neck.

It wasn’t exactly a gift, but he did have something.

“It’s in the barrack pack—I forgot.”

If they’d all been gathered when he arrived, he would’ve handed them out naturally, but everyone had been away.

Enkrid didn’t know it, but that was only natural.

A group without a center always scatters.

So Enkrid was like the thread tying beads together.

Without the thread, the beads roll off and scatter.

Only Kraiss sensed that atmosphere.

“Still, I guess it’s better than us just going berserk like we used to.”

Even if scattered, the beads still lingered nearby, hovering with their own will.

Isn’t it true that the world doesn’t revolve around this land, but rather, the sun is the center?

Kraiss hadn’t understood eight out of ten things that man said, but he remembered one.

“A star revolving around the sun.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

In some places, that theory was rejected as heresy, but in Kraiss’s eyes, that was exactly what they looked like right now.

Like the sun and the stars.

After fighting, washing, and returning to the lodgings, Ragna even ate a packed meal with ham and vegetables stuffed into bread—something like a lunchbox.

Apparently, it was a specialty sandwich that had become all the rage in the city lately.

It had thin slices of yellow pumpkin inside, made at Vanessa’s Pumpkin Soup Inn.

Vanessa really did have a talent for cooking and business.

Speaking of cooking reminded Enkrid of Juul from the West. He thought that Juul and Vanessa might make a good pair and help each other out.

As he entertained this silly idea, Enkrid rummaged through his pack and started pulling things out.

“Picked it up on the way.”

The first was from the Carmen Collection.

It was a dagger placed in a jewel-encrusted sheath, though he had no idea what kind of taste its previous owner had.

He flicked it toward Jaxon, who caught the handle mid-air.

Schwing.

The moment Jaxon received it, he slid the blade partway out of the sheath.

There was a sound—but the blade itself couldn’t be seen. It was transparent.

Jaxon’s eyes, unusually, widened.

“Carmen Collection?”

He muttered to himself and touched the transparent blade with his fingertip.

He could feel it clearly. He couldn’t see it, but the sensation of the edge and its shape were undeniably present.

“Was treasure just lying around on the way here? You picked that up?”

Kraiss asked, blinking his big eyes.

“Not entirely wrong.”

Lua Gharne nodded beside him and added a brief explanation.

When Kraiss listened, it turned out a deserter had been carrying it—and it had been taken from him.

Wasn’t that an incredibly rare blade? Maybe it was just luck.

Perhaps.

Kraiss couldn’t continue his thoughts.

“This one’s probably for you.”

Apparently in a great mood, Jaxon tossed him the jeweled sheath.

Kraiss caught it and immediately appraised it.

Not top-grade, but not bad either.

The gems weren’t individually that valuable, but compared to busted-up relics from a half-assed dungeon raid, this was far better.

It had good resale value, too.

As a bonus gain, it was naturally a welcome thing.

“Thank you. I’ll make good use of it.”

Jaxon seemed genuinely pleased.

He even dipped his head slightly to Enkrid as he added his thanks.

And that wasn’t the end of it.

“There were a few assassination attempts. A few aimed at the lord, and a few at King Eyeball.”

Jaxon’s casually thrown remark made Kraiss blink again.

“When? I had no idea.”

Of course he didn’t.

While Enkrid was away, Jaxon had ousted the disobedient ones, then restructured Geor Dagger to his liking through fists, daggers, and intimidation.

It wasn’t a perfect overhaul, but it was enough to establish dominance in a single city.

Those who fell in line under Jaxon spread out and built nests throughout the city, acting as a filter net that caught assassins trying to enter.

Of course, some might fool their eyes or slip through by luck—but the ones so far hadn’t.

From Jaxon’s perspective, they were just small fry.

Guys who took jobs for a few gold coins at best.

Kraiss blinked several times and quickly came to a conclusion.

Thinking about it, there weren’t better targets than him and Greyham.

Plenty of people worth targeting.

Jealous, bitter lunatics.

The Azpen bastards who wanted the Border Guard to collapse.

Arrogant noble bastards picking fights.

“Hah… unbelievable.”

Kraiss grumbled.

If someone slipped poison into their food, it’d be over in an instant.

Of course, to guard against that, he always carried a long silver needle and mostly used silverware.

Silver had long been known as the best mineral for detecting poison.

As for gifts worth handing out, the Invisible Blade was really the only one.

Next, Enkrid pulled out a tainted relic.

Audin recognized it at once.

“Impious one, your sins shall be judged. Father, do not forgive.”

Audin spoke loudly, even though it sounded like something muttered to himself.

He stepped forward and reached out toward the relic.

Hm?

Enkrid had planned to ask him to find a priest who could deal with it.

It wasn’t something he meant to just hand over.

“This is something that must be handled in the name of the god. Please entrust it to me.”

Audin showed his large palm.

Well, since he spoke like that, he must know what he was doing.

Enkrid handed over the cup without complaint.

It had a peculiar scent, but no one here seemed tempted by it.

Only Kraiss added a comment.

“Is that gin?”

“Yes, big-eyed brother.”

Audin replied as he slipped the cup into a small pouch and hung it from his belt.

The Dark Sanctuary cult once stole holy relics indiscriminately.

They threw away their lives like trash and managed to steal a few.

The stolen relics caused incidents all over.

In one province, endless undead rose, and the Holy Knights had to be called.

What Audin had just put into his pouch was one of those items.

Purifying relics held deep meaning for him.

If Jaxon had received something he wanted, then Audin had regained something precious he’d forgotten.

As Audin prayed off to the side, Teresa came to join him.

Now devoted to the god of war, Teresa understood just how important this was—just as much as Audin.

What could be more important than restoring a relic containing divine will and power to its proper state?

Once the two of them had stepped away, a fluttering sound came from outside the tent.

It was Odd-Eye.

Without really thinking of it as a gift, Enkrid took out the Lucky Fish he’d carried all this way.

He tossed it through the open door toward Odd-Eye, whose head had just peeked in.

Odd-Eye stretched its neck and caught it in its mouth, chewing.

After a few bites, it stared at Enkrid and gave a small nod.

It seemed to like it.

Now, it felt like the pack was more or less emptied.

As Enkrid dusted off his hands, Ragna—having already devoured two sandwiches—asked,

“Is that all?”

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.