A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"Cultists?"

When Enkrid asked calmly, the one-eyed man frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

Maybe not? It didn't seem like it. If they were cultists, they wouldn't be acting this sloppily.

Besides, Kraiss had said that if these were cultists involved in any significant business, they'd definitely know who Enkrid was.

"Think about it. If someone always pops up to sabotage your plans, wouldn't you try to find out who it is? The strange part is they haven't tried to assassinate you yet."

That was what Kraiss had said. In truth, there had been assassination attempts—but these people just didn't know about them.

Some had even sent requests to Jaxon.

Others were intercepted or dealt with directly by Jaxon himself.

There was that time with the Apostle of Curses, though understanding the full story behind that was nearly impossible.

How could anyone tell that the grotesque man who suddenly dropped dead was an Apostle of Curses?

Still, hadn't it been said that even the mere mention of Enkrid's name made cultists grind their teeth in rage?

So if this was the best they could muster, the odds of them being cultists were exceedingly low. That was Enkrid's conclusion.

"Human trafficking, then?"

He asked again without even drawing a weapon, and the thugs started to feel something was off.

Did we pick the wrong fight?

Should we back off now?

But they couldn't. Not anymore.

Unbeknownst to Enkrid, Cross Guard had become a lawless city.

The market and local administrators had little influence, while thief guilds and criminal brotherhoods were the ones with real power.

These attackers belonged to a group with the laughable name "Awl Brotherhood"—as in, "we'll stab you if things go sideways."

They were infamous for seeking revenge if you laid a hand on their 'brothers.' The problem was they had no idea who they were messing with this time.

They'd seen a traveler arrive—getting escorted by the town's administrator, no less—but all they saw was the krona on him. Their boss was an idiot. It was a miracle they'd survived this long.

"Kill him!"

The one-eyed man ordered. Thugs on either side pulled out short awl-like daggers and lunged.

The corridor was narrow—hardly ideal for wielding longswords. These guys had adapted, using daggers about a handspan long. At least they were coordinated.

They didn't just rush in recklessly but came two at a time down the hall.

Still, even a mere squire of the knight order would've had no trouble here.

Even a well-trained soldier from the Border Guard's standing forces could've taken them.

Enkrid didn't even draw a weapon. He shifted one step to either side and reached out.

Of course, his movements were far too fast for them to react.

Shadows stretched and sank under the lantern's dim light.

To the Awl Brotherhood, it must've looked like a ghost made of soot was devouring their shadows.

Enkrid grabbed a wrist and twisted.

Crack!

"Agh!"

The scream came a heartbeat later. No sooner had he broken the wrist than he dislocated the jaw—a technique Audin specialized in. A thumb pressed beneath the cheek, a sharp push down, and the jaw popped clean out.

"Uuurgh."

The pain was unspeakable. With the jaw forcibly unhinged, the man couldn't even scream properly, just drooling and tearing up.

The one-eyed man hesitated, trying to gauge the situation, then cursed and turned to flee.

But Enkrid wasn't about to let him go.

The dagger the first thug had dropped was already in Enkrid's hand.

He weighed it briefly, then threw.

Thunk!

The blade sank into the back of the man's thigh.

"Grah!"

Thud-thud-thud.

He stumbled and tumbled down the stairs.

Enkrid hadn't planned to kill him. But if he died, so be it.

All of it had happened in less than a single breath.

Even the unhurt ones froze. Those mid-stab dropped their eyes in disbelief.

By then, Lua Gharne had finished off the two on the roof and was descending.

She'd leapt down and was coming up from the ground floor, just in case someone used sleep incense or some other trick to escape.

Not that they'd ever manage it—but Lua Gharne made a habit of understanding the battlefield before engaging. Enkrid had learned that from her too, which is why they split up in the first place.

Together, they sealed off every escape.

They didn't need words to coordinate at this level.

Two men remained standing. They still held their daggers, but they didn't dare move.

"Did you kill them?"

Enkrid asked without even looking back. Lua Gharne, climbing the stairs, replied:

"Yeah. We can leave one or two alive. The kid didn't seem involved. The innkeeper seemed to know, though. Looks like someone scared him into silence."

She was fast. She'd even taken time to read the innkeeper's face.

Enkrid nodded indifferently.

Maybe the man had known and turned a blind eye to survive. Still wrong. Benefiting from evil was its own form of guilt.

Not that Enkrid intended to pass judgment.

People adapted to survive. And if these thugs were this bold, threatening an innkeeper was probably routine.

"You want more?"

Enkrid asked casually.

The two thieves holding daggers quietly knelt.

To them, he was a monster. And they weren't wrong.

To normal people, someone like Frokk or a knight was indeed a monster.

They'd relied on the sleeping incense, but when that didn't work—well, this was the result.

Enkrid shrugged and carried the incense brazier outside.

"Get a new one."

"Excuse me?"

"Change the brazier."

No need to change rooms just yet.

Judging by the situation, moving wouldn't help much.

They'd seen the administrator himself escort them in, and still pulled this stunt. Which meant one of two things.

Either the administrator knew and looked the other way, or... the administrator was in on it.

Enkrid left it there. He searched the downed thugs and found thick rope.

So it was human trafficking.

If you're capturing people to sell, you'd have something to tie them up with—and they did. They hadn't planned to kill. Enkrid tied up the two remaining thieves and sat them in front of the door.

"If anyone comes, wake us."

He'd just made a thief-doorbell.

"Sleep while you can."

Lua Gharne nodded in agreement. You had to rest when you could. And so, they slept.

The two thieves, bound tight, didn't even consider escape.

They sat among their dead comrades, paralyzed with fear, convinced a blade would pierce them at any moment.

It wasn't until dawn that the object of their terror emerged to untie them.

"Clean up."

The thieves erased the traces of last night as best they could. Of course, they couldn't get rid of all the blood on the floor. The inn had already smelled musty; now the coppery scent of blood hung in the air.

Enkrid dragged a backless chair into the hallway and sat.

Lua Gharne rubbed her eyes, looped her whip around her waist, and leaned against the stairwell wall—ready to react in an instant.

"Who sent you?"

Enkrid asked.

"No one sent us," one of the thieves said, gulping nervously.

"We just snatch travelers or merchants, scare them a bit, steal some krona. That's it."

He didn't sound like he was lying.

Unluckily, their boss had died tumbling down the stairs. The cause of death was strange. His neck wasn't broken. Instead, there were odd, dusty marks in the whites of his eyes.

Didn't die from a broken neck, huh.

Even if rigor mortis had set in, the corpse was unusually stiff and heavy. Like it was turning to stone.

Or maybe his guts already were stone.

The body was so heavy the two men had to grunt and strain to carry it out.

Enkrid found it strange but had no one to ask. Lua Gharne also thought it odd but said nothing more.

"The administrator brought us here. What did you think would happen?"

Enkrid asked.

The thief answered that the administrator was a spineless nobody no one feared.

Cross Guard, he explained, was already in a near-daily state of violence due to guild infighting. The administrator was just trying to stay alive.

Really?

Enkrid had met the snake-eyed administrator, and he hadn't seemed afraid of anything.

The remaining two thugs added that the truly dangerous figure here was someone called Windblade—a man said to have killed a famous knight and gone into hiding in this city.

They babbled nonstop. Naturally—they didn't want to die.

Even sobbing a little, they let slip a few useful bits of information.

Conclusion? Cultists or not, this city was rotten to the core.

So, what now?

Time for breakfast.

Enkrid followed his instincts and ordered a meal.

"You really planning to eat here?" the innkeeper asked. He was holding a big kitchen knife, but didn't look like he wanted a fight. His face was etched with anxiety.

"If I don't eat at the inn, where should I eat?"

"Go outside. Catch a grasshopper."

Lua Gharne muttered, but Enkrid simply tapped the table.

The innkeeper sighed and turned away. A young staff boy scurried over and whispered,

"Y-you should run..."

"Why?"

Children saw the world through their own lens.

For a boy who'd never left Cross Guard, what was the scariest thing?

The ones who threatened him daily. The ones who never got punished for anything.

To him, the criminal guilds were as terrifying as death itself.

"Scary people are coming."

The boy didn't think Enkrid was bad, so he had gathered his courage to speak. But Enkrid didn't even react.

The inn's first floor doubled as a dining hall. Though it was early, customers began trickling in. Among them, two rough-looking men approached Enkrid.

Drag.

One of them scraped a chair across the floor and set it beside Enkrid's table.

He straddled the chair backward, resting his arms on the backrest, and stared at Enkrid.

"And who the hell are you?"

Enkrid turned his gaze toward the man, sizing him up.

Two short swords at his belt. Well-worn grips. Clearly favored weapons.

Despite the awkward sitting posture, the man was ready to draw at a moment's notice. Enkrid could tell at a glance.

"A guest waiting for breakfast."

"Not wrong," Lua Gharne added.

Cross Guard was ruled by three major criminal guilds.

There had been many events leading to this point, but to put it simply, the guilds had grown too powerful, and no one had stopped them.

One garrison commander died caught up in a guild war. Another was rumored to be practically a guild member himself.

Time passed like that, and eventually, the city fell completely under criminal rule.

Gambling and drugs ran rampant. It wasn't unusual to find a corpse on the street in the morning.

Alleys reeked, and human waste lay scattered due ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to poor sanitation.

Rats swarmed. Disease spread.

The man now sitting before Enkrid? A member of one of those three major guilds.

"Oh yeah?"

He let out a dry chuckle.

He didn't have a friendly face, but to Enkrid, he looked oddly cute.

Trying to act all relaxed, but his fingers and toes were tense.

His intent was obvious.