A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

If something beyond amazing—something bordering on the mystical—had occurred, then there had to be a reason for it.

'Does the Saintess have an ally?'

No.

If not, then there was only one answer.

The Saintess—whether fugitive or escapee—was running away on her own, and doing it well.

But does that make any sense? She's just a kid, right?

It was said that Saints and Saintesses always manifested their powers at a young age.

Coming from Audin, that was probably true.

Enkrid pictured a child in his head. For some reason, Anne's younger appearance came to mind.

It was hard to imagine someone like her, fleeing alone from pursuit.

Esther, Shinar, Teresa—they all had incredibly strong presences.

But Anne? She looked like the type you'd want to chase down and scold.

That was just the image that popped up.

Anyway, there was a girl like that. Maybe she didn't have red hair, but she shook her hair as she ran, outmaneuvering her pursuers?

That was ghoulshit.

And yet it was clearly happening—she was escaping from some of the best trackers on the continent.

If that's not a mystery, what is?

'Is she a mage?'

No. She's a Saintess.

Then the conclusion is this—

She's just that damn talented. Her own skill had brought about this situation.

And that guess probably wasn't far off.

Because otherwise, it wouldn't make any sense.

'Alone, huh.'

Enkrid thought through the three possible methods someone being hunted could use to escape, based on what he knew.

'If someone had allies all across the continent willing to hide them, that would work.'

Someone with connections in every city could stay hidden. Sure.

Second possibility: exceptional disguise skills.

'But the people from the Holy Nation wouldn't miss something like that.'

So, were either of those truly viable? Hardly.

It wasn't like the pursuers were a bunch of drooling morons who kept losing to ghouls at chess. They'd have brains too.

And what would they think to do?

Looking into the fugitive's family, friends, lovers, acquaintances—that's basic tracking.

Disguise? Just hiding your appearance isn't enough.

So you smeared some mud on your face and splashed on paint. Does that really make you someone else?

Let's say you're incredibly skilled at hiding your identity.

But even so, can you really live your entire life in hiding?

Eventually, there'll come a moment when you have to prove who you are.

And if your fake background story has a hole in it? If someone decides to question it?

What, you'll hide in a mountain village with no monsters or beasts and live there peacefully?

Where does such a place even exist?

Even if it does, the fewer the people, the harder it is to keep secrets.

In a small community where the whole village knows if a couple next door argues, there's no such thing as "hiding."

So you'd have to live in a city. But cities tend to check identification strictly—

even if you managed to forge your credentials.

'There's no such thing as a permanent secret.'

And to live always doubting everyone around you—is that really living?

More importantly, bounty hunters worth their salt never overlooked a mysterious stranger popping up in the city.

That's the whole reason info guilds and bounty guilds existed in the first place.

Even in Border Guard, the standing army kept watch during the day, and the Gilpin Guild handled things at night.

Every city had its share of people doing that work.

And now, even more guilds were creeping into Border Guard.

So fugitives usually hid in the slums.

And when all trails go cold, the pursuers start there first.

It's not like they comb through the slums for fun—they know how this game works.

And if the fugitive decides to get a room at an inn to sleep and eat?

That's about the same as praying to the gods to get caught.

So hiding completely in a city was next to impossible.

Avoiding human eyes was the hardest thing in the world.

Sure, some people managed to vanish for good—

But they were rare.

Honestly, Enkrid figured most of them ended up robbed and dumped in an alley, sent quietly to the gods by ten desperate beggars at once who heard the sound of jangling coins at night.

Which leaves the third option—

A practical one, and the most reasonable method.

'Keep city visits to a minimum. Rest and sleep only outside the walls.'

You avoid people and instead deal with monsters and beasts as you move.

Take animal trails, mountain passes, woods, and fields—anywhere but the merchant routes.

But even that has problems.

No matter how powerful you are, a person still needs sleep and food.

So how would you eat? How would you sleep?

Raw force alone wasn't enough to be a good fugitive.

Well... if your combat strength was at the level of a recognized quasi-knight within the order, then maybe.

But even then, escaping the Holy Nation's grip would be damn near impossible.

So what could work?

You'd have to be an outstanding ranger.

Or an elite hunter.

If someone dropped you in the middle of nowhere and told you to survive, the best-suited professions would be:

1. Ranger

2. Hunter

They knew how to sleep in trees, how to butcher beast meat.

Sure, taste wouldn't be a priority, but that's survival.

Enkrid's thoughts led him there.

"A naturally gifted hunter? Do such people even exist?"

Enkrid asked as he walked. He wasn't in a hurry.

Trailing behind the pursuers meant letting the fruit ripen a little before picking.

The autumn sun was warm, and he couldn't remember what he'd seen on the path behind him—too deep in thought.

They were walking up a shallow hill. Shinar lifted a hand to block the sunlight.

"There's no such thing."

Said Shinar—an elf, and someone who had personally trained ranger units.

Enkrid agreed.

For a hunter, it was essential to study terrain and understand beast habits.

If you didn't learn, experience, and train, hunting was impossible.

Which made all of this... a mystery.

And mysteries could be solved by meeting them.

If he asked, he'd get some kind of answer.

So then, the only thing left to do was to pursue the target.

Enkrid had already formed a strategy of his own.

That was why he'd turned down Deutsch Pullman's final offer.

"If I assign you a soldier familiar with the terrain, you'll find them quickly. I can spare a squad's worth."

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary."

With those words, Enkrid politely rejected Deutsch's consideration.

He had his own reasoning. Besides, taking down that parasitic brotherhood gang in the city and handing over the information had been more than enough.

Over twenty people—bounty hunters, mercenaries, guides, and others with a knack for tracking—had been mobilized for this pursuit, hadn't they?

Enkrid didn't even know where exactly in the east he should head.

But still, he set off.

It wasn't as if he was acting on blind luck without any thought.

Back when he'd worked as a bounty hunter and guide, he had both chased and been chased.

If you were to count his win rate in those pursuits...

It probably wouldn't even reach fifty percent.

He could follow trails, sure—but his tracking skills weren't anything exceptional.

'If only Rem were here, it'd be easier.'

That barbarian with the gray hair and a hatred for nobles—had he been here, he'd have put his hunter skills to work.

Rem could track people. He could find them.

If Dunbakel had come along, her nose and instincts would've helped tremendously.

Well, Shinar was still of use. But this wasn't her native land.

To put it more precisely: Rem or Dunbakel could be hunters anywhere. But Shinar was no such creature.

Short-range tracking might be within her capacity—but pursuit that factored in terrain? That was out.

Was that a problem? No, not really.

Because Enkrid was no longer the same man he'd been in his bounty hunting days.

He knew well that his natural talent as a guide was thoroughly average.

But now, he had legs strong enough to search all night without exhaustion.

Iron legs.

If he couldn't see from a narrow view, then he'd widen his perspective.

Audin and Shinar were not ones to tire from a half-day of scouting.

And based on what he could see, scouring the area and diving into the eastern woods would take half a day at most.

Hadn't he already tested just how far he could go on foot, leaping across the Pen-Hanil Mountains by sheer legwork?

Lua Gharne had once said: "There's no tactic more excellent than knowing exactly what you can do."

Enkrid had taken those words to heart, training himself relentlessly. Now he was reaping the reward.

He divided the visible terrain into several zones and estimated how long it would take to reach each with a sprint.

It came naturally to him—he'd run the land countless times.

And it wasn't just some vague idea of "let's poke around randomly."

Hadn't he heard that over twenty professionals were deployed in this pursuit?

They were both stepping stones and signposts guiding him toward his goal.

Most importantly, they weren't being hunted—so they hadn't bothered to conceal their tracks.

See? As he lightly jogged toward the eastern forest, even now, the torn and scattered corpses of monsters and beasts were plainly visible.

Huge, spiky-leaved trees blocked the view ahead, and the air was tinged with the iron scent of blood.

One monster had been crushed against a rock.

Near that rock lay the severed head of a hound-faced monster—its flesh scorched with stubborn precision, as though branded repeatedly with an iron rod.

"A trace of the Crusaders," said Audin, having stopped to examine the corpse. He knelt and inspected the remains.

"Someone nasty's with them," Shinar added.

Killing a monster was one thing, but torturing it before death? That reeked more of sadism than vengeance.

Enkrid nodded and signaled to Shinar.

"You need my help? Of course—I shall assist my beloved fiancé in his time of need."

With her usual blank expression, Shinar spoke flatly and set about examining signs of battle.

Her experience likely outstripped his in this arena.

Not that Enkrid was idle.

He too checked tracks and broken branches.

Some among the pursuers were moving fast—

The signs were clear where fresh branches had been snapped forcibly.

'Not bad,' he thought.

From the clean cut on the branch, they seemed skilled.

Not a sloppy hack—cut clean in one stroke.

Still, Enkrid doubted they were top-tier Crusaders. The edge was a bit uneven.

Shinar sniffed the air and looked up. Enkrid asked,

"Which way?"

"This way. We won't be long."

Without pause, Shinar responded. As the two moved, Audin followed behind.

Even if Deutsch Pullman had personally come, he wouldn't have been able to keep up in activity or speed.

So it made sense that no local soldier had been brought along.

To scout this whole area in half a day, they'd have to move exactly like this.

Enkrid pushed aside a few branches with the short sword Aitri had given him.

Its grip molded perfectly to his hand—the blade felt like an extension of his body.

Though Aitri had lent it temporarily, it was clearly forged specifically for him.

A sword that clung to his palm like a second skin.

'Now this is a blade worth wielding.'

As he mused, a distant voice reached his ears—

Human speech, faint, but unmistakable.

So when Shinar said it wouldn't take long, she'd meant the voice was already within hearing range.

She was right.

Though the words weren't yet distinguishable.

"Let's pick up the pace," Enkrid said.

Then launched himself forward.

His steps were swift and fluid—knees bent, avoiding sharp stones and uneven terrain.

No clouds of dirt kicked up beneath his feet, but his body surged ahead effortlessly.

From above, the streak of black he left behind would # Nоvеlight # look like a long, sinuous serpent.

Since others had already opened a path, following was easier.

Audin followed closely behind. Though his large frame might've been hindered by low branches, he ran just fine, bent halfway at the waist.

Shinar, of course, was in her element.

Once inside the forest, she moved like a fish in water—

Leaping off slanted trees when the ground was too cumbersome.

It was the kind of grace only a true elf could display.

None of them were even going all out—yet they moved faster than squirrels.

In an instant, the three large "squirrels" arrived at the source of the sound.

Ahead of them were two men and one woman, carving a path.

The first pursuit party.

None of them had tried to move silently, so all three turned at the noise.

Startled, they looked back—clearly on guard at the sudden appearance of Enkrid's group.

Enkrid took one look and decided to satisfy a small curiosity.

"How much were you offered?"

Just how much had the Holy Nation promised to draw in so many self-proclaimed tracking experts in such a short time?

It wasn't all that important.

Just one of the smaller questions that had popped up on the way.

He'd always been curious how tight-fisted the miserly church really was.