A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Thump.

The organ that had been quietly supplying blood throughout his body suddenly revealed its presence.

His heart beat. Thudding, hammering, announcing its existence.

In truth, there was something more important to Kraiss than dreams, life, or even survival.

It was, how should one put it, preparation for the future — something tangible, visible, something you could hold in your hands.

In other words, it was krona.

For him, the symbol of the future, of value, of dreams, of life — everything ultimately converged on krona.

If he opened a salon and made piles of gold coins, what then?

Who knew. He would just live doing whatever he wanted.

Even if he didn't know what he wanted yet, as long as his pockets were stuffed with gold, that was enough.

That was how Kraiss envisioned the future.

And now Enkrid was whispering dreams and futures to him.

"If that happens, you'll rake in a ridiculous amount of krona."

In that moment, Kraiss saw a mountain of gold coins appear before his eyes. It was a hallucination. He hadn't even taken any drugs, yet he was seeing visions.

"Building the city of pleasure you mentioned, right on the border between the Empire and the Southern Grand Kingdom, wouldn't be a bad idea either."

Kraiss's eyes went hazy. His mind seemed to have already traveled far into the future.

Recently, Anne had failed while developing a healing potion and accidentally created a luminescent substance.

They were using that to build a lighthouse to brighten Border Guard's nights, and if they developed it further?

After Anne, a few other alchemists had joined in, so it wasn't impossible.

They could create a giant sphere in the center of the city, filled with glowing liquid.

If they set it up as the city's symbol, it would be perfect.

There were construction guilds skilled enough to make it happen.

In his daydream, Kraiss stood atop the high walls built along the southern border.

"Behold. That is the City of Pleasure."

He spread his arms and introduced it to dozens of nobles.

Following his gesture, all their eyes turned — and even though it was night, they saw the glowing city. A city of pure pleasure, shining with light.

Just imagining it made his whole body tingle from his toes to the tips of his hair.

'No, that's not enough — spin it.'

Build a device that would rotate the sphere left and right. Could it rotate automatically? Couldn't they implement a magical power system?

"Behold! That glowing city — Salon de City!"

The city didn't just shine; it scattered light in all directions.

The name he blurted out on the spot stuck nicely.

Without realizing it, Kraiss was no longer thinking deeply about giving up.

In other words, he had stopped using his head.

That's why everything had started to seem so difficult — because he had accepted obstacles as impassable walls, because he had lost his will and spirit.

Now, his frozen mind softened, melting like hard bread dipped in hot soup, and started turning sharply once again.

Enkrid watched Kraiss's eyes change.

Eyes that had been vacant were now regaining their light.

'What's with him?'

He didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care to know. He just cheered for him as he always had.

After all, this was the life Kraiss had always said he wanted.

Kraiss himself had forgotten for a moment, but Enkrid hadn't.

A city of grand salons, mountains of gold coins earned through it — Kraiss had loved both ideas.

That's why Enkrid had said those things.

And now, suddenly, Enkrid found himself wondering about the goals of his soldiers — no, his knights.

What were they fighting for?

He could more or less guess, but he had never asked.

Until now, he hadn't needed to.

But now things had changed. They had officially become a knight order, and these people were formally inducted.

Did they have to blindly follow Enkrid just because he had a goal?

He had never explicitly called them 'knights' either, even after forming the order.

Rem might be swinging his axe to erase the Demon Realm, sure, but what about the others?

It was a thought that surfaced only because Kraiss had come and talked like this.

He would have to seek them out one by one and ask.

And he would have to properly define the order's size and structure.

Until now, Kraiss had taken care of knight order-related matters. But while Kraiss was momentarily distracted, Enkrid was the one who had thought about it first this time.

"Are you sick?"

Seeing Kraiss's eyes spinning wildly, he wondered if he had a fever.

"No."

Kraiss's once dull, dead fish eyes were now shining vividly, so it didn't seem like he was sick.

And perhaps because he had caught a glimpse of Enkrid's brief moment of contemplation, Kraiss's mouth started moving smoothly.

"You were worried, right? About the border with Azpen, the rising tensions. And all the faction issues and internal conflicts in the city must've been giving you headaches too."

No, not really.

Honestly, it was more accurate to say Enkrid wasn't that interested.

If a problem exploded, he would deal with it. Until then, he saw no point in worrying — you couldn't exactly slash or beat down every problem in advance.

Enkrid's mind was sharp enough to recognize issues, but deep down he had already decided: if something festered, he would cut it open and remove the infection.

But realistically, the territory was too large for that method alone, and there were many who felt growing unease, even if they weren't openly dissatisfied.

Even though the city was thriving, with more food and krona than ever before, tensions still [N O V E L I G H T] brewed.

No matter how good the situation, not everything could be perfect.

So what was the solution?

Until just now, Kraiss hadn't had one either.

But now, he did.

"I have an idea."

Somewhere in Kraiss's mind, the revolving glowing sphere was still spinning.

The sphere was raining down gold coins in real time.

Giving up? Danger? Weren't those the costs you had to bear to reap rewards?

Hadn't the Captain done exactly that?

Kraiss erased his doubts. It wasn't enough to merely harden his resolve — he erased hesitation itself.

"We have a surplus of food this year. I'll use it."

Starting with the reclamation of Greenperl, they had built safe trade routes, expanded farmland, invested heavily in herding and hunting.

Even during ranger training, separate programs for monster and beast hunting had been established.

And as Border Guard's role as a trade hub grew, new opportunities opened.

Recently, the Enri merchant group had arrived from the West, and it seemed they could now establish a direct western trade route.

One major benefit stemming from that was food.

It might sound like Border Guard was already rich, but the problem was that all this wasn't Kraiss's personal property.

He couldn't just take it and run. Nor did he want to.

Kraiss had learned, from watching Enkrid, how to move straight and true.

He would build a shining city with his own hands.

He was determined.

"Alright."

"Yes, then."

Kraiss turned and left.

"What the hell was that about?"

Rem said, coming out with a towel on his head, shaking water from his hair.

"No idea."

Enkrid answered honestly.

"Wasn't he busy?"

"Apparently."

Enkrid just shrugged it off. Just one of those things.

And the next morning, he heard that Kraiss had half-forcibly brought Abnaier over and persuaded him.

Later, when asked why, Kraiss simply said,

"I'm going to put him to work."

When questioned how he could trust him,

"I don't. Honestly, I don't trust anyone. That's why we keep everyone too busy to even think about scheming."

Furthermore, Kraiss said Abnaier's work would be limited only to matters dealing with Azpen — trade and diplomacy only, no military affairs at all.

"We're already short on time even for that."

Kraiss said.

And just as he said, Abnaier threw himself fully into his work.

One day, Enkrid stopped by to see how he was doing.

Even though Enkrid had summoned him, Abnaier didn't even raise his head — he was buried in paperwork.

"Who? Just leave the documents on the table."

Feeling like he had come for nothing, Enkrid silently closed the door and left.

Anyway, with Abnaier handling trade with Azpen and other miscellaneous tasks, Kraiss finally caught his breath. In his spare time, he created a commemorative day for the city.

At first glance, it might have seemed like a random move, but it was exactly what the city needed most right now.

Why?

Because people needed an outlet.

Border Guard had defeated Azpen and claimed victory, but now they shared a border as neighbors.

Many weren't thrilled about it.

Some had lost family or loved ones to Azpen.

Though it wasn't a huge number — there had been very few large-scale battles against Azpen.

Still, discontent existed, and there was a faint undercurrent of unrest.

Looking at it the other way around, Azpen was the same.

They had suffered even greater losses.

Azpen tried to solve the problem by relocating populations who hadn't lived near the border before, moving them closer to the front.

Naturally, this was Abnaier's work.

It led to a major internal migration within the duchy.

In times like these, there needed to be something to unify everyone.

That was where the commemorative day — the festival — came in.

Kraiss added a few more touches.

"Should we call it the Knight Order Founding Day? Or the Border Guard Protection Day?"

Enkrid didn't mind either, but he thought the latter was better since the Knight Order hadn't yet gained unanimous agreement among all the people.

Thus, Border Guard Protection Day was born, and the festival was held.

Three days of nonstop eating and drinking, capped by a martial arts tournament on the final day.

Preliminaries were held within each unit, and the finals took place in Greenperl City.

Even if you weren't part of a unit, anyone could participate if they wanted, so the whole city was buzzing.

The Knight Order members themselves didn't compete, but their soldiers did.

The prize for winning was a bag full of gold coins, and if the winner wished, they could even be honorably discharged.

Rem's squad went wild at the news — they fought so fiercely in the preliminaries that by the time the finalists reached the main arena, they were limping onto the field.

"Can you even fight, brother?"

Audin asked, watching.

The opponent was a martial artist personally trained by Audin and Teresa.

"Missing one leg won't matter."

Rem snorted through his nose, but the victory went to a Holy Soldier from Audin's division.

"Uwooh! I'm a bear!"

The victory shout was... odd, but it was a victory nonetheless.

"Want me to teach you Froc's Battle Song?"

Lua Gharne said, prompting Audin to politely decline.

"I can sing decently myself, dear Frog Sister."

After fully recovering her body, Lua Gharne had roamed the mountains like a mad Froc, but recently, she stuck close to Enkrid's side.

"Next up... oh, it's Fallen Clemence' turn?"

Clemence — now practically a proper name — stepped forward with a short wooden sword.

Her opponent was from the Sword Infantry Division led by Ragna and vice-captained by Rophod.

Everyone had given themselves the most ridiculous names.

Enkrid thought so as he enjoyed watching the match.

As always, regardless of skill levels, there was something to be learned from every fight.

Because of that, Enkrid watched every match from the finals onward with great enjoyment.

The fight was one-sided. Clemence wasn't exactly a swordswoman — she was a brawler.

She tangled up the sword, rushed in, tripped her opponent, and chopped at the throat with the edge of her hand — her footwork, her use of strength — all were flawless.

"She's good."

Lua Gharne nodded as she spoke.

Fallen Clemence had followed Lua Gharne around, learning a few techniques, and not just from Froc — she had sought out anyone and everyone, training like a madwoman to reach this point.

She didn't even need a keen eye.

Enkrid could feel something like the flow of Will from her.

It was an instinct. Or perhaps an insight.

In the midst of battle, it was as if he could glimpse the future through Clemence' movements — the traces of someone advancing forward.

"She'll make a Squire."

As with all knight orders, before becoming a knight, there was the Squire stage. Clemence had reached that level.

Starting as a mere foot soldier, it was the result of her talent and relentless effort.

"If she wins, let's offer Knight Order admission too."

Kraiss, overhearing, added a new reward for the tournament winner.

Enkrid nodded.

It wasn't a difficult thing to agree to.

Of course, any soldier with a shred of common sense would think twice before joining.

From afar, Enkrid looked like a dashing hero worthy of admiration.

Up close, he was just a madman — a training lunatic.

There was a reason it was called the Mad Knight Order.

In Azpen, even the Hurrier family was stepping into the martial tournament.

The excitement was feverish, and the champion came from Enkrid's own direct unit.

"Gwaaahhh!"

The winner roared toward the sky — you'd think they were half-giant.

The winner was a female soldier with a single braid trailing down her back.

Her name was Fallen Clemence.

She wished to become a Squire of the Knight Order — and so she did.

The three-day festival ended that way.

After the festival ended, the city's reconstruction project surged forward like a runaway carriage.

It reminded Enkrid of the old days when he'd return from somewhere and find a brand-new wall had sprung up.

After the festival, city zoning changes took place.

The outer walls on the left and right sides of the city were designated as peripheral ring roads, and the inner city was divided into inn districts and commercial districts.

Artisans were grouped with other artisans, merchants with other merchants.

It was all Kraiss's work.

It was around that time.

After training, meeting with Aitri, and running around the city for various matters, Enkrid was returning to the barracks.

"I couldn't tear my eyes away from the festival."

He heard the voice of the blind old man, babbling nonsense in front of the barracks.

How could a blind man say he couldn't tear his eyes away?

It was a joke on par with a fairy's humor.

It was a bright autumn afternoon.

As Enkrid laid eyes on the old man and unconsciously placed his hand on his grip—

"Don't let your guard down."

Jaxon's voice came from behind.

Because Jaxon had approached subtly, Enkrid wasn't surprised.

Seemed they had just happened to arrive back at the same time.

"Why?"

"That old man... he's strange."

Coming from Jaxon, that was odd.

Usually, it was either 'he's dangerous' or 'he's annoying' — but strange?

It was the first time Enkrid had ever heard that kind of phrasing from Jaxon.