A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Rem had spent time with Enkrid again and again, and the same thought kept returning.

"He's too rough."

Because she had once trained him, Rem knew well that the captain wasn't someone who changed easily.

To be more precise, this guy—whenever you looked at him—always gave the impression of having hit a wall.

Even now, as a knight, it was the same.

It was like he had exhausted everything he had, drained himself completely, and come to a stop.

So the fact that he'd come this far was already impressive.

But would he stop here? No, that ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) didn't seem likely.

"But does this even evolve?"

Though she had risen to knighthood through sorcery, Rem understood the concept of what it meant to be a knight.

That was why she judged that the Will Enkrid currently possessed felt incredibly dull.

Could that dullness be sharpened again?

"It won't be easy."

Not that he was the kind of person who gave up, but something about it still bothered her.

"Was he... satisfied?"

It felt like Enkrid's attitude had changed, even if just a little. He had always been a seeker. But was that still true?

Was that longing—was the fire of his desire still burning just as brightly and beautifully as before?

His eyes always looked straight ahead.

But could one really say his yearning was the same as before? Truly?

Rem didn't think so.

It was admirable that he hadn't succumbed to omnipotence. His Will, welling up like an undrying spring, was also impressive.

But that wasn't everything.

Becoming a knight wasn't the end that came with awakening your Will—it was the beginning of learning how to wield it.

Rem didn't bother putting that into words. It wasn't something you could teach with words anyway.

Instead, she did it with her axe. By facing him again and again.

Now, it was something he would have to do on his own.

Ragna had noticed something similar.

Though not as subtly as Rem.

"He's dull."

He looked like someone who was walking even though he could run.

Why? It was just a gut feeling. But a gut feeling from a genius and a knight wasn't meaningless.

Still, did it need to be said?

What does someone who's lost their way need most?

The will to find the path again.

If you have the will, you can get there somehow.

But if that will dies out?

Then you'll be lost forever.

To Ragna, Enkrid now looked like a lost wanderer.

Jaxon noticed something as well.

"Are you... satisfied?"

So he asked.

Enkrid just blinked those blue eyes.

"With what?"

Didn't he understand that becoming a knight wasn't the end? Of course he did.

He never missed a day of training, even now—that diligence proved it.

And yet, why...

"Is it just my imagination, or does he seem less focused?"

Or was it just that his expectations had been too high?

"It's nothing."

"If you're asking whether I'm satisfied because I became a knight, then no."

Now that he was a knight, he was on the same level as his squadmates. He had reached the moment he'd dreamed of. But satisfied?

No, Enkrid said that wasn't the case.

"I see."

Jaxon let it go, without much reaction.

The path he had walked to knighthood had not been ordinary.

What came easily to others might have been difficult for him.

But conversely, he could do things they couldn't.

To put it simply—if he fought Enkrid head-on right now, he would lose.

If it were a fight to the death, that might be different.

But just in a duel format, he'd lose.

Could he kill him, then?

"Yes."

Technically, yes.

He wasn't like a typical knight.

So hasty advice wouldn't help.

It was just that something didn't sit right with him.

Normally, Jaxon didn't ignore feelings like that—but this was Enkrid.

That guy would figure it out, somehow.

And surprise him again.

It was trust.

The experiences they'd shared had built a belief in Jaxon—so he left it alone.

Audin looked at Enkrid and prayed.

"Father, have you already decided our commander brother's end? I believe in your words, that no one's fate is set, oh Lord above."

He couldn't go forward, bound by his vows.

He couldn't speak it aloud, so he would have to express it with his body—but his current circumstances didn't allow for that.

That was why Audin didn't say anything either.

He also believed in Enkrid.

"He's not shaken, but... it's strange."

Lua Gharne, who had the eye to discern talent, offered a comment.

Enkrid continued his days of sparring and training—nothing had changed there.

Yet everyone looking at him felt the same unease.

And no one said anything to him.

Because words wouldn't change anything.

Of course, if it ever looked like he was truly going to stop—then they would act.

But for now, they all agreed: it was time to wait and watch.

***

Acker was a sword imbued with a knight's own thoughtform.

—The reason I, a thoughtform, was created? I don't know that either. I just awaken under the set conditions.

When the sword vibrated, meaning was transmitted directly to his mind. That part was still fascinating.

And that was all. It was fascinating—but not really something to learn from.

To the point that it made you wonder why the sword even had a personality in the first place.

If it could cast magic on its own or something, that'd be one thing. But instead, now that its thoughtform had awakened, it was apparently nearing the stage where its will embedded in the sword would disperse.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"For such strict conditions, it really doesn't know much, does it? Was there even a reason to make a sword like this?"

There were three conditions for awakening Acker.

One: learn the swordsmanship created by the knight Acker.

Two: awaken one's Will.

Three: fully claim ownership of the sword.

"Who even decides whether those conditions are met?"

For example—learning the swordsmanship? When he asked, an answer came back.

—If you wield me, that counts as learning it. Awakening the Will is also part of what sustains me. You said the blade's been feeling dull and powerless lately? That's inevitable. I don't consume Will while I'm asleep, but because I woke up halfway, I probably drained some of the Will stored in the blade. I'll endure for now by absorbing what you supply, but... honestly, the sword is nearing the end of its lifespan.

At most, it had about a month left—how long the thoughtform Acker would remain awake.

But it didn't express any regret.

A thoughtform was just a thoughtform.

It wasn't afraid of vanishing.

It accepted it as the natural course.

Enkrid understood that and moved on to the next question.

It was about the conditions.

Then what about awakening Will? Or ownership?

—You should know since your Will has reached the level of a knight, right? It's when you can keep using your resolve without doing anything. That even affects the weapon you're holding. Ownership is about how you treat the blade. So if part of the blade gets damaged, it's considered part of ownership.

Acker answered all questions faithfully.

What is a thoughtform?

You could think of it as a mass made purely of thought.

Acker was a fragment of will left in a personalized weapon by the knight Acker, once hailed as a hero of the previous age.

That will was originally left behind to teach.

—Just knowing how to swing a sword isn't enough. You need tactics. Hey, where did you learn that?

Whatever the thoughtform tried to teach, Enkrid had already carved it into his bones.

Things he had learned while wandering the continent with Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, and Audin. More recently, even what he'd learned from Lua Gharne.

The thoughtform Acker tried to instill the message that becoming a knight didn't mean forgetting your foundations—but Enkrid was someone who had clawed his way up from the bottom.

Even after using Will, he never neglected the basics.

—You're diligent.

In the morning, he would wake up and train his body in detail using the Isolation Technique. He practiced armor manipulation techniques known as Impact Technique.

Afterward, he would stretch each muscle, loosen them, and retrain them.

From basic swordsmanship drills to everything else—he did it all. His days felt too short.

Even to the thoughtform, it was boring to watch—but Enkrid did it with joy.

In the midst of it all, he met with visitors to the territory, responded when needed, and read and wrote letters.

And now, he was on his way to the city's central market.

More precisely, he was heading to a blacksmith located near the edge of the marketplace.

The grip of Gladius had become loose, and he planned to have Acker looked at if possible and pick up a few new daggers.

Should I also get some armor?

Not a bad idea.

Enkrid walked slowly. There was no urgency.

"Want me to come with you?"

Shinar asked on the way out, but he declined.

He occasionally wondered—what was this fairy still doing here?

As a fairy knight, she could have returned to her own village. She had no obligation to keep fighting for Naurillia.

Was she loyal to the kingdom?

No way.

And yet, she remained.

Of course, very few even knew Shinar was a fairy knight.

Only himself and a few members of the Mad Platoon. Even Graham, the Lord of Border Guard, probably didn't know.

At first, she had stayed in her current role like a mercenary. Now, she remained naturally, like a soldier.

Given her connection to Crang, there might be some kind of agreement with the royal family.

A price?

Was that why she was still here? Enkrid didn't know. He doubted she'd answer even if he asked.

"If you get lost, I'll guide you. You've been gone a while—it might get confusing."

Ragna also offered to accompany him, but Rem blocked him.

"You crazy bastard—you're seriously testing my patience."

Even if Ragna hadn't said anything, Rem wouldn't have let it go. She was always ready to pick a fight if given the excuse.

Fortunately, the two didn't go as far as trying to kill each other.

Now that they'd both become knights, they knew—if they fought for real, one of them would probably die.

That's the nature of battles involving Will.

Unless there was a clear gap in skill.

"Wolf spirit."

Rem invoked her spirit summoning.

Using the spell etched into her body, she borrowed the leg strength of a wolf spirit.

"Dwell in the legs and crush the opponent."

Today, she was going all out.

Enkrid left them behind and went on his way.

Jaxon said he had urgent business. Kraiss was genuinely busy—war preparations, perhaps.

Even beyond that, he seemed to have a lot to do.

Even if everyone was talking about war, it might just end up being a few months of waiting and watching.

It wasn't a battle that would start right away. That's what Enkrid believed.

In any case, he was on his own now.

The sun shone warmly. A gentle breeze blew.

Birds sang in between.

The sunlight and wind were surely the same as always—

And yet, they felt warmer, more refreshing.

The wind blew straight through his chest and out his back.

The sunlight filled his whole body and then left again.

The title of knight had lost its formality and become something proven through strength.

Enkrid felt once again—everything had changed.

The sunlight was different.

The wind was different.

"I've changed. The way I accept it all has changed."

Everything had changed.

He could see the path his sword would take, knew how to move.

Listening to the wind, to the chirping of birds, Enkrid kept walking.

It was a day of clear sunshine.

The whole way to the marketplace, he enjoyed the walk.

He wished this moment, this walk, could last forever.

—You seem to be enjoying yourself.

Acker spoke.

Was that so?

Enkrid gave a halfhearted reply and kept walking.

A few soldiers he knew saluted as he passed.

"I want to be like you!"

One of them shouted boldly.

Being someone's idol—honestly, if you said that didn't feel good, you'd be lying.

"How do you do it?"

At that question, Enkrid noticed the stern expression of the officer nearby suddenly sharpen.

Judging from their matching uniforms and other details, discipline in this unit was strict.

And yet, the soldier had spoken to Enkrid directly and freely.

Once Enkrid passed by, that soldier would likely be greeted by a round of physical punishment in the name of "discipline."

Still, Enkrid looked at the soldier, brushing aside those petty thoughts.

As always, he had only one thing to say to those who asked how.

"Find your own reason. You can have a comrade fight beside you, but no one can carry your resolve and conviction for you."

Behind the fired-up gaze of the young soldier, even the eyes of the officer trying to keep composure sparkled.

All ten of the soldiers walking in tight formation had that same glint in their eyes.

It wasn't a bad sight.

"The flower of war is..."

"Infantry!"

With that familiar chant, Enkrid parted from the group and reached the marketplace—crowded with people.

The city had grown, the market had grown, even Vanessa's Pumpkin Soup Inn had grown.

And yet, it was still packed with people—and somehow, still orderly.

There were no paths for carriages—only walkways paved not with dirt, but with clean stone tiles.

Several buildings stood with more than five floors, their stonework lifted high.

They said war with Azpen was right around the corner.

Even among the merchants, rumors were flying.

Everyone said it was happening.

No one knew where the rumors had started, but everyone believed the fight was coming.

Some still said "Surely not," but most—those who could read the situation—accepted war as a certainty.

In the past, just a few years ago, the mere mention of war would cause all the merchant groups to vanish.

The city of Border Guard would turn into a ghost town.

But not now. Not anymore.