A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid rose from his seat.

"Well then."

"Come back in three days."

Aitri spoke without even turning his head.

"Got it."

Enkrid wasn't someone who cared about formalities, nor did he expect to be seen off, so he left without hesitation.

As he stepped out of the forge, the air felt noticeably cooler. The heat and passion gathered inside had made the forge feel even hotter than it already was.

On his way back, Enkrid passed through the market again. He could've used one of the regular carriage lines set up on the road outside the city wall, but he chose to walk instead.

He wanted to walk—and it was also a way to keep in mind that he didn't have a single coin in his pocket.

He couldn't exactly say, "I'm the general of Border Guard, slayer of demons, and close friend to the king" just to catch a ride.

More than anything, the images of Aitri and Frok lingered in his mind like afterimages, and something kept thumping at his heart. That made him want to walk even more.

The market was still crowded. The giant selling goods was still there.

"If you can't pay the price I set, get lost."

Several merchants standing before the giant yelled in frustration, but none dared to lay hands on him. Anyone with a brain wouldn't.

No matter how skilled Border Guard's soldiers were, they wouldn't be able to intervene faster than a giant could crack someone's skull.

The giant's fists were much closer than the guards.

Was getting angry brave? Or just stupid? More likely, they were angry because they still thought of the giant as a merchant.

If this were outside the city, alone, and they had to deal with him directly, none of them would dare provoke his temper.

But even so, the giant merchant didn't seem especially wise in his trade. From what Enkrid could tell, the guy ignored all attempts at bargaining.

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

Enkrid stopped and asked.

The giant looked at the retreating merchants, then glanced at Enkrid.

Does this guy have nothing better to do? What's he doing walking around in broad daylight like this? Is he some kind of pretty-boy host leeching off women's coin purses?

While thinking such things, the giant finally opened his mouth.

"I bring things that no one else can get their hands on."

There was pride in that statement.

Enkrid waited for the giant's next words. He let his arms hang naturally at his sides, locked eyes with the giant, took a calm breath—his posture was one of focused listening.

That moved the giant a little. It wasn't every day someone stood and listened this seriously.

It wasn't like he'd been dying to say this to someone, but now that the topic was out...

"A good merchant, by my standards, is someone who knows how to get good items."

He wasn't good at haggling, but he could find something special. Was it because he was a giant? No—it was because that's how he wanted to do it.

"I don't have the skill to make anything myself, but I can get what's needed to make something special. Giving the right thing to the right person and getting the proper price for it—that's my job."

As he spoke, the giant's eyes gleamed. Reflected in the sunlight, his brown eyes made him look not like a Beast of Red Blood, but like a merchant full of ambition.

This same giant, who didn't get angry when insulted or provoked, now seemed a little worked up.

Why? Because he was talking about what he truly wanted.

"I want to become a knight."

Enkrid had felt the same whenever he said those words.

Something boiling inside made it impossible not to speak. It made his blood rush.

In the giant's image, Enkrid saw himself.

"See you around."

"Next time, bring some krona."

"I'll definitely see you again. And when I do, I'll be with a big-eyed friend who'll be carrying a whole backpack full of krona instead of just a few coins in his pocket."

He meant it.

"Whatever you say."

The giant smirked. Enkrid gave a reply and turned toward the barracks.

As he walked, his pace began to slow.

Dreams, yearning, passion.

Those things tumbled in his head like a tangled thread.

But why was he thinking this way?

As he organized his thoughts, he spotted a small child sitting on the side of the road. The child had been staring directly at him, so the gaze had registered naturally.

She was short—her head barely reaching Enkrid's chest—with a frail frame and clothes so worn they were torn in places.

She stood far from the gate guarded by the soldiers.

Fourteen? Fifteen? She didn't look older than that. Freckles dotted her face, and her coarse, dark red hair looked like it would shine brightly if cared for. Her eyes were a pale brown.

She stood up from her squatting position but didn't even bother brushing the dirt off her bottom. She just kept staring at him.

"If this is coincidence, then the god of alchemy must have helped me. If not, then I guess my effort finally paid off."

As Enkrid walked, matching gazes with the girl, she suddenly spoke. Her voice was thin and delicate, and from it, Enkrid knew she was a girl.

He'd already guessed from her build, of course.

Enkrid stopped walking. Her voice was clear and bright, yet also firm and confident—there was backbone in the way she spoke, not weakness.

"You know who I am?"

He asked bluntly.

"The lord of Border Guard."

She answered.

A nicer title than Demon Slayer, probably.

More importantly, the fact that she recognized him at a glance meant... an assassin? No, she didn't look like one. There was no killing intent, no trained posture or stance.

And she didn't smell like spellwork either.

Could it be some kind of trick? Maybe—but Enkrid's instinct told him otherwise.

This girl had truly come here looking for him.

"You were looking for me? Why?"

The girl considered herself lucky. Why? Because even though she'd come to Border Guard, she hadn't truly believed she'd get to meet this man.

She'd chosen this place because, if luck was on her side, maybe she'd get a chance to speak to someone with power.

She'd hovered near the barracks, but it was clear just by looking that the guards wouldn't let her in.

The discipline in those soldiers told her that tricks wouldn't work. She knew from experience that you couldn't fool soldiers like that.

Not that she had any tricks to begin with.

But she couldn't just give up, either. So she sat down with a plop and had been wondering what to do.

It had been a long story that brought her here. She'd wandered in search of hope until this was the only path left.

Put simply, she'd bet her life—her body, her everything—on this gamble.

And it was thanks to that gamble and some luck that she was standing here now.

How easy is it to meet a merchant on the road who'd feel sorry for a girl like her?

She'd even gotten help from a giant merchant along the way. She'd been through all kinds of things to get here.

"To hold you responsible for the death of my master."

She had originally planned to kneel and beg for help.

That was her initial thought.

But when the moment came, those words just spilled out.

Partly, it was her natural temperament—but more than that, it was because the man called the lord of Border Guard had stopped walking at her words, looked her in the eye, and listened.

There had been days when she nearly burst into tears, and days where she thought maybe it was better to just drift through life. But she'd come this far.

Thank you, gods.

The girl offered silent thanks in her heart.

If she hadn't been lucky, her body would be rotting somewhere in a ravine or a corner of the wasteland by now.

Her filthy appearance proved her journey hadn't been easy.

Her fingernails were broken, her shoes so worn that the toes had holes.

She smelled sour and unpleasant, but she didn't care.

"I heard you killed the alchemist Raban."

"Who?"

Enkrid didn't remember the name. Even if he had heard it before, too much time had passed for it to matter.

Being good at remembering didn't mean he remembered everything.

The girl explained, and Enkrid listened.

Why didn't he ignore her? Because her clear voice, her confidence, her mature and proper way of speaking triggered something in his sharp senses.

She didn't seem like an ordinary child.

As he listened to her story, he realized who the alchemist Raban was.

That lunatic who used to conduct human experiments under the Black Blade.

A lunatic—but a talented one.

And now Enkrid added a lunatic who raised several disciples to the description.

The girl had originally been fated to become one of Raban's mistresses.

But Enkrid had changed that fate—he had saved her.

And though she was only sixteen, she understood what that meant.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

She knew—Enkrid was her savior.

But it was also true that she had suffered immensely after her master's sudden death. More than anything, she hadn't been able to continue the studies she'd longed to pursue.

"I'm someone with the makings of a great healer. But right now, I've got no krona, no teacher, and I'm about to end up selling my body. Any chance you'll take responsibility for me?"

She spoke confidently. The freckles on her face stood out, and so did the awkwardly washed skin—probably all she could manage was her face.

Grime clung to her neck and elsewhere.

Was that dirty?

Not to Enkrid.

What caught him wasn't her appearance. It was her eyes.

Charming?

No.

It was the gaze of someone who burned with desire—a hunger that blazed like fire.

"I can be an excellent healer. I'm not talking about using divinity."

She lifted her chin, her bright brown eyes staring straight at Enkrid.

"Explain."

"...Really? You'll listen?"

They were standing in the middle of the street—no chairs, no refreshments, one side dressed in rags, the other walking home deep in thought. But none of that mattered.

"Yeah. Talk."

The girl lifted her head and began.

What it meant to be a healer, why she was necessary, what she planned to do, what her goals were, and what Enkrid stood to gain from it.

Some of it was clumsy, but some of it was remarkable.

Yes—Enkrid felt wonder.

She spoke with passion, and he found himself moved by that heat.

And in that moment, it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Those eyes that shone—the eyes of someone striving toward something.

He'd seen them before.

Just earlier, in Frok.

Right before that, in the blacksmith Aitri.

He thought of all the people who had once looked at him with those same eyes.

The boy who dreamed of being an herbalist.

Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, Rophod, Pell, Esther, Dunbakel, Teresa—

Each of them, at some point, had looked at him the same way.

And then came Aisia.

"I almost gave up, you know. Thought it'd be enough if my brother and I could just get by on one meal a day.

But now, I don't think that's it anymore."

That was what she said, watching Oara's back.

What were Aisia's eyes like back then?

The knight with orange hair—her eyes had been ablaze.

Full of drive and longing.

Filled with the will to move forward again.

He had seen that.

Then what about me?

What was he like now?

Was he satisfied for a moment?

No. Never.

It wasn't satisfaction. But maybe, after becoming a knight and gaining enough skill, he'd unknowingly felt content.

He hadn't thought it was over—but it felt like he had achieved his dream.

Was it because what he once only dreamed of was now in his hands?

Had he been saying with his body that this wasn't the end—just by continuing forward as he always had?

Watching Rem and Ragna fight, he'd wanted to reach their level.

Was he content now that he had?

He had vowed to protect the people behind him.

Was he content now that he could do so more often than not?

Was it relief, knowing he could now support those who dream?

That little shake—just a small tremor—sent a ripple through all of Enkrid.

A tingling sensation started at his toes, surged up his body, past his jaw, reached the top of his head, and struck like lightning straight down his spine.

At some point, he'd closed his eyes—and then he opened them again.

The sunlight, the wind, everything felt different.

But not everything had changed—some things never would.

And there was also the ego sword that had pushed him this far.

Acker's words flashed through his mind.

—You've already learned so much everywhere else. It's no fun to teach you.

—I could teach you some tactics, but where did you learn them first?

—Are you getting lessons from another knight?

—Maybe I'm just unlucky.

—You're already a complete vessel.

—In time, you'll master Will naturally.

All those words had hinted that he had broken through limits and achieved results.

That sword wasn't a holy sword. It was a devil's sword.

The conclusion was clear.

"Acker, you bastard."

Enkrid muttered.

—Hey, it's a misunderstanding.

Acker vibrated.

It was a sword infused with Will. There was no way it had been made just to chatter.

So it had to be useful for something else.

Otherwise, he really would throw it into the deepest ravine he could find.

What he'd joked about while speaking to the giant merchant might just come true.

The giant merchant's eyes.

The blacksmith Aitri's eyes.

The accessory-making Frok's eyes.

And now the eyes of a girl with a clear voice saying she'd become a healer.

And countless others he had met.

Enkrid felt like he had shattered a hard shell around himself and emerged anew.

"...Huh? Acker?"

The girl asked, wondering if the man in front of her might not be Enkrid but just some lunatic.

What was with this guy all of a sudden?

"That was just me talking to myself. I'll take responsibility for you.

But don't go falling for me and proposing, got it?"

"...You're pretty full of yourself. Just because you've got a decent face, you think every woman will swoon?"

"Good. That's settled then."

Enkrid said, turning away. But the girl called out from behind him.

"My name's Anne! You're just going to leave? What am I supposed to do?"

"Follow me."

Anne followed Enkrid.

Inside the barracks, he ran into Shinar and handed Anne over to her.

"Find someone to feed and clean her up, will you?"

"What, you brought a daughter back and now you're dumping her on me?"

"Cut it with the fairy jokes."

If Esther saw Enkrid's face right now, she'd say his eyebrows had finally returned to normal.

Literally—his loosened expression had gone back to what it used to be.

Shinar sensed it too—the unique aura that Enkrid gave off.

He was back to his old self.

The withered tree had turned into a blazing furnace again.

"Careful with that fire," Shinar said.

Enkrid heard her, but ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) walked right past.

His stride showed he had something more urgent to do.

Watching him go, Shinar spoke.

"Who is she?

If she's his daughter, the stepmother's going to be jealous."

She cracked a joke—not to Enkrid, but because she was in a good mood.

Anne, realizing she was alone now, started to question whether coming to Border Guard had been a mistake.

"...I think I'm a little too big to be called a daughter."

"True."

Shinar nodded in understanding.

"Then a concubine?"

"Absolutely not! I like men who are a bit more laid-back. And I'm not into brunettes, either."

Anne was young—but she had her preferences.

"Welcome."

Shinar said with sincerity.

Not every woman had to fall for Enkrid. But still—it was a welcome thing to hear.