A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The city center was incredibly crowded, but the area Enkrid had moved into had few people.

The atmosphere was completely different, but Enkrid enjoyed it.

A butterfly with red wings fluttered past his eyes.

Beside where the butterfly passed, he saw a long flowerbed.

The city had installed flowerbeds like this all over, and he noticed yellow and orange flowers blooming there.

They were beautiful.

It was Holy Gold, the Flower of the Saint. It didn't literally possess divinity — that was just the meaning attributed to it.

Supposedly, it was a flower blessed by the gods as a symbol of earthly beauty.

Thus, Holy Gold symbolized not just the Saint Mother but also saints and holy men.

Those born with divine blessings directly from the gods were called saints.

A few maple trees stood beyond the flowerbed, their crimson leaves scattering [N O V E L I G H T] across the ground.

It was truly a wonderful road to walk along. A newly paved road on the outskirts of the city, with no visible commercial facilities.

Instead, here and there, he saw building guilds and artisans constructing various structures.

Even that blended into the scenery.

What is peace, if not simply living today and savoring happiness?

The atmosphere was so serene that it made such thoughts arise naturally.

A beautiful road, larger in scale than one would ever find in a rural city.

Enkrid continued walking and reached his destination.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The rhythmic sound of hammering echoed loudly — it was a forge.

He had to duck slightly to enter through the small doorway, and once inside, the entire interior came into view at a glance.

Along with the hot air pushing back the cool breeze.

The space had expanded compared to before, but nothing much had changed.

Gray ash and black soot, the blazing forge and the bellows — they all came into view. So did the figure who seemed to be a part of that scene.

"Aitri."

Enkrid greeted him, and Aitri responded.

"You're here."

Aitri, sitting in front of the forge, turned his head to meet Enkrid's gaze.

"How's it going?"

After the battle with Azpen, Enkrid had collected every enemy knight's weapon.

Of course, he had picked out only the engraved weapons.

Naturally, they were valuable weapons, made with rare metals and a variety of forging techniques. Enkrid had given them all to Aitri.

For research and experimentation.

"I can't make an engraved weapon just yet."

Aitri said immediately, his tone firm.

"I don't mind."

Enkrid had already decided to entrust his weapon to the man who carried a dream. That decision would not change.

In some ways, Enkrid was stubborn to the point of being disturbing.

Everyone around him knew it.

Even Shinar would probably give a similar answer if asked.

"Then, would you be willing to share what you've realized?"

Aitri asked. It was his request.

He wanted to know what Enkrid had learned through fighting.

The use of Will, the mindset involved, and the changes that had arisen through it.

He listened to Enkrid's stories, looked at his palms, and asked about his sword habits.

Through their conversation, Enkrid naturally realized that this blacksmith had considerable martial prowess. The level of their questions and answers was beyond ordinary.

"You know how to use a sword?"

"I can handle most weapons a little. I had to learn for making and testing them."

"And you still train separately?"

"No, only as much as necessary."

Aitri had talent. But his aspirations could only be realized through the heat of iron and fire, so he pursued that path instead.

Engraved weapons — the term referred to weapons that bore Will.

Thus, a process like this might be necessary.

'Is it like that for everyone?'

Enkrid briefly wondered but didn't ask.

It wasn't important.

No matter how others did it, no matter how it had been done before, Aitri had found his own method, and he had chosen to walk that path with Enkrid. That was enough.

If he failed?

That too was something Enkrid would bear.

It was a road already chosen, a path he had no regrets about, so the only thing he could show now was trust.

"Do you believe in me?"

Aitri asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"I don't know."

Enkrid answered honestly.

Neither of them laughed; they just continued their work.

Aitri was calm. Perhaps inwardly he had been hoping for and anticipating this moment, but he didn't show it outwardly.

Neither did Enkrid.

"Alright then."

At Enkrid's words, Aitri pushed his chair back with a scraping noise and straightened up.

A posture of serious listening — someone who knew how to properly listen to others.

'Or maybe he's just focusing on the parts he needs.'

That was probably it.

"I've learned a lot."

Enkrid spoke casually, almost as if chatting. Before he realized it, Froc the sculptor had also approached and stood nearby.

Of course he would be here — he hadn't given up on his dream and was still training diligently.

As Enkrid spoke, Aitri nodded from time to time.

Even if he couldn't understand everything, grasping the broad, conceptual parts was enough.

Aitri asked countless questions, rechecked things against what he had learned and experienced.

He too had found certain realizations in the process of melting down engraved weapons and hammering them apart.

Then Froc also jumped into the conversation.

It wasn't something Enkrid had expected or planned, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

They weren't professional swordsmen, but they were people who spent each day giving their best without wasting it.

Listening to them, Enkrid realized and learned a lot himself.

The three of them talked until the sun set and the moon rose, and only when it was late into the night did Enkrid get up to leave.

"Please use this instead. You should stop using that Gladius."

Enkrid didn't ask why — he simply followed Aitri's advice.

As Aitri spoke, his apprentice brought out a short sword. The blade was moderately thick, a little shorter than the Gladius.

When Enkrid gripped it and tested the balance, he could feel it was heavier.

"I mixed in black steel."

Aitri said, watching him.

"I'll use it well."

Kraiss had probably already taken care of the costs or any compensation.

Enkrid had told him to back Aitri after hearing about his dream.

Enkrid stepped outside.

Above the cloudless sky, the bright moon shone.

Looking at the full moon, Enkrid mulled over the conversation they had just shared and reflected on the day's events.

There was no lightning strike of sudden enlightenment.

'Was it that I drove myself into an obsession with giving my all every day?'

It was just a passing thought.

And then he started another identical day again.

He walked the city, looked at various things, yet nothing had changed. As before, he simply swung his sword.

After meeting Aitri and talking about engraved weapons, he threw himself back into training, signed documents when needed, and received letters.

A letter had come from the King of the East, Anu — the first in quite some time.

Judging by the contents, it seemed the rumors had spread all the way east.

— The Knight of the Iron Wall? Is that you? What the hell did you do? I'm curious, so write back in detail. Oh, and the one you sent is still alive. Might die soon, though. And the Mad Knight Order? What a great name. You're all lunatics anyway.

Hmm, not wrong.

Except for himself, it was fair to call the rest lunatics.

You could tell even just from the rumors.

The letter faintly smelled of blood, and the handwriting was sloppy. It looked like it had been scribbled in a hurry during some fight.

Enkrid wrote a reply.

He didn't feel the need to write much, so it was quite short.

— It just turned out that way. Dunbakel is not someone who dies easily.

After writing the letter, it was time to swing his sword again.

At one side of the training ground, Rem was carefully polishing the blade of his axe when he asked,

"But why did you name it 'Mad Knight Order'?"

Enkrid didn't fully believe the rumors. But he didn't think of his subordinates as normal either. It was the same as when he responded inwardly to Anu's letter.

When Rem asked, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin, Teresa, Rophod, and even Pell all pricked their ears.

Even Lua Gharne rolled her big eyes and stared, opening her mouth. Seeing her puff out her cheeks and make a low 'kuruk' sound, Froc's characteristic curiosity seemed to have been triggered too.

Lua Gharne said with her cheeks puffed,

"Yeah, I was curious too."

Enkrid briefly wondered if it was right to call a madman mad to his face.

Probably not.

Thus, Enkrid couldn't be entirely honest.

"Because we fight like madmen."

His voice lacked a little strength. Still, the meaning was clear and the message was delivered.

Rem nodded, recognizing it.

"Fair enough."

As Crang had once said, everyone, including Enkrid, nodded.

It sounded about right.

Afterward, until the sun set, Enkrid continued swinging his sword, meditating, and working his Will in various ways.

And then Kraiss came looking for him.

He had a face full of things to say. At least, that's how Enkrid saw it.

Kraiss's face was full of traces of hesitation and anguish.

***

Kraiss judged that this was a crossroads.

'Alright, let's think.'

He had two paths.

One was to keep living like this.

The other was to throw everything away and run off to some frontier of the Empire.

What did it mean to keep living like this?

'A life where you never know if you'll die from poison or take an arrow to the throat.'

And running away?

'Hiding somewhere quiet and living out a peaceful life.'

Honestly, even the latter wasn't a life he particularly desired. But it was safer. Would Nurat come after him? Probably not.

Meaning, he'd have to give up everything he had now and leave.

'That's the right call.'

In exchange, the chances of dying would drastically decrease. No more of this headache-inducing life. That should be enough. Trying to live short and intense — that's madness.

Life should be long, peaceful, and enjoyed moderately.

Open a little salon in some corner of the city and live quietly.

Kraiss was different from the others. No one knew that better than himself.

'I'm perfectly normal.'

He didn't suit a name like the Mad Knight Order. That's why.

'Give it up.'

Kraiss could already foresee what was coming on the continent.

Steel and fire, blood and death, the thin line between life and oblivion, monsters and beastmen — eventually, he would lose his mind in anxiety.

Would he have to calculate a way to survive every single day?

'Ragna would probably circle the entire continent faster.'

A world soaked in blood was coming. That was inevitable. And yet, it was far too late for him to tell Enkrid, "Let's just take it easy and live well on our own."

'Is there even a place for me here?'

There would be places. Work that needed him would overflow.

But he would end up on close terms with death.

He might have to hold a friend's hand and cross into the next world.

A firm resolution took root in his heart.

The Captain had built a wall with his Will.

Kraiss too now erected a resolve just as solid.

He couldn't even bring himself to talk to Nurat first. He had agonized for days, but once he decided, he sought out Enkrid.

"Captain."

The twilight was collapsing, the orange glow fading over the mountains and disappearing into darkness.

A blue darkness. It was as if the sun had scattered its last traces of light, painting the darkness blue.

Within that blue, two upright, unwavering eyes looked at him.

The owner of those eyes would never bend his will no matter what.

Kraiss realized, even facing those eyes, that his decision wouldn't waver.

'This isn't a place for someone like me.'

The continent would burn. The war with Azpen was nothing.

They had managed to set the board this far, but beyond this, he couldn't keep up.

Kraiss felt his own limit and so he stood here.

The recent discord within the city, the growing factional problems, countless other issues — he felt they were all beyond his control now.

He didn't feel regret.

It was just that his abilities had only carried him this far.

Or maybe... a little regret.

He was curious about how far Enkrid would go.

But Kraiss valued his own dreams, his own life, his own survival more.

Nothing was more important.

'This is the end.'

Enkrid had become a knight. Through relentless advance without stopping, he had achieved it — at least, Kraiss had witnessed that much.

He felt no lingering regret.

"Is something troubling you?"

Enkrid asked, and Kraiss shook his head.

"It's not a trouble."

It was a decision already made.

His eyes were clouded, his voice dull. He wasn't even neatly dressed.

Enkrid knew that Kraiss had recently been overloaded with work.

Some of it was work Enkrid should have handled. And some wasn't something even Enkrid could have resolved.

At times like this, wasn't it better to simply encourage him?

"While moving around, I heard Crang's ambition."

Ambition?

Kraiss wasn't particularly curious, but since things had come this far, he decided he might as well hear it all before saying what he had to.

"Crang's plans include the Empire and the Grand Kingdom."

The Demon Realm, the Empire, the Grand Kingdom, the cultists.

The scale was absurdly large.

'Yeah, this isn't a place for me.'

His resolve remained unshaken.

"You know, you could open a salon even in the Empire and the Grand Kingdom."

Enkrid said.

And Kraiss felt an earthquake.

It wasn't his body that shook — it was his heart.