A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

At Overdeer's words, Noah suddenly rushed forward.

"No! This is all my responsibility! You mustn't blame them! I was the one who asked for help. They acted without knowing anything!"

It was a cry that burst out without consideration for logic or order—driven by desperation.

Noah had no fear; despite the shift in momentum, even a single arrow could have ended his life. Enkrid instinctively twisted his body to block any possible incoming shot, thinking:

'Can I really say they acted without knowing anything, when I was leading from the front?'

Noah had pointed at him, claiming ignorance, but no one here would believe that.

Noah limped forward, perhaps having twisted his ankle at some point, arms spread wide, positioning himself between Overdeer, the head of the Purge Priests, and Enkrid.

Enkrid glanced at the two—still gripping their swords, but not raising them.

Would he lose if he fought both at once? He wasn't sure. If it were just him, maybe. But he wasn't alone here, so he didn't think they were outmatched.

"There's a spring breeze I haven't yet shown. Don't worry."

"I've still got energy to spare after watching from the sidelines."

Those words came from behind Enkrid—first Shinar, then Lua Gharne.

Whatever "spring breeze" meant, it likely signaled the fairy's own readiness.

"Even if there was someone among us who worshipped demons, that is my crime alone!"

Noah shouted, veins bulging on his neck. His cry rang across the gathering—not that it was likely to persuade anyone, but his voice carried.

How many people in this continent listen to the powerless?

But what if that voice wasn't alone?

Someone stepped forward. And stood beside Noah. Then another. And another.

They were monks—members of the monastery.

Some couldn't wield divine power. Some were martial monks who had changed after the Seiki incident.

A man with a shaved crown exposing his round scalp stood next to Noah. His legs trembled. Clearly, he was terrified.

Soon, a group of about ten stood behind Noah. They were those who had helped him run the monastery. One even held back a younger monk trying to step forward.

A middle-aged woman who stopped that young monk looked over the remaining children.

If my death could save them, would that not be an honor?

Then let her become a martyr.

Even if the world called them demon-worshippers, if it saved the children, she would endure it. She stepped forward.

"How could this be just one person's crime? If there is guilt, it belongs to all of us."

"Not the children. Not those others. This is what we did."

"Abbot Noah, why must you stand alone?"

They spoke. And their words gave weight to his.

The way to empower words is to have others stand with them.

What does a king need to truly be a king?

He needs those who will recognize him as one—and stand by his side.

And now, by Noah's side, stood people who gave strength to his words.

"Why are you doing this?"

Noah didn't seem touched. He looked more surprised. He let out a breath, and only then did the urgency in his face relax.

Then he spoke again.

But this time, his tone was completely calm—unlike his earlier rush.

His voice, attitude, and demeanor had a quality different from Crang's, but it drew attention just as surely.

"I don't wield divine power. The Lord did not grant it to me. So I cannot stop you with strength."

Noah continued:

"All I can do is pray. The responsibility is mine."

People listened. His gentle, yet piercing tone naturally compelled attention.

"The hero from the Border Guard, and those young ones—this isn't something that should reach them. Don't you think?"

They say divinity is light.

But lacking that light does not make one any less of a priest.

Noah was a priest. And he was someone who knew how to protect.

Even if these were the last words he ever spoke, if there was no reason to avoid it, he would not run.

He was someone who could shield others with the faith he had forged within.

These people had done nothing. They were no demon-worshippers. Enkrid knew that.

So if Overdeer or that high priest tried to label them so, Enkrid already knew what he would do.

Becoming an enemy of the Holy Nation? He would endure it.

Becoming a target of the Purge Priests, those zealots and warriors? He would endure that too.

Even if the whole continent pointed fingers at him?

He would endure that as well.

He enjoyed praise and cheers, but he didn't live for it—would never throw himself away for it.

This was the pride and conviction of a man who lived only for the today that hopes for tomorrow.

As the cold air settled, the unnamed paladin who had joined earlier stepped forward. He sensed he had to help de-escalate the situation.

"Did you come here because you believe the monastery worships demons?"

To worship demons was to be part of a heretical cult.

Wasn't that what the name "Sanctified Demon Church" implied?

The Purge Priests existed to exterminate such cults. Perhaps they came to do just that here.

"Or did you come to punish me, a runaway?"

The paladin was giving them a reason—perhaps offering himself in place of a needless bloodshed.

The man who led the Purge Priests was a knight. A man of power from the Holy Nation.

His face, scarred and severe, betrayed little emotion.

Only a long-endured patience, common among those who had suffered much.

Overdeer, who had shouted "fool" earlier, chewed over Noah's speech and stepped forward. A prophet knows when opportunity knocks.

This was one of those moments.

A chance to choose where he would stand.

"If that's why you came, then I already know where I must stand."

Overdeer moved to Enkrid's side and turned his gaze.

He had made his allegiance clear.

"The fool I was talking about was that Apostle of Abundance over there."

At those words, Audin gave a slight smile. He had just finished beating Azratik into a half-crippled state.

Azratik had lost an arm and an ankle.

Not even divine power could regrow a severed limb—not unless you were Frokk.

So the arm was gone. The ankle, crushed by divine force, would leave him limping for life.

It hadn't been done on purpose. Azratik simply wasn't someone you could afford to go easy on.

The scarred High Priest said nothing as he stared at Enkrid. He didn't even acknowledge the paladin under his command.

Blue eyes, imbued with divine light, met dull brown ones.

After a pause, the high priest spoke.

"No one here is so thoughtless as to label this monastery as the devil's puppet."

His tone was respectful.

He continued.

"You are right, brother. I realize it now, though too late."

The Purge Priests were a unique group.

They obeyed the pope, but the High Priest could declare war if necessary. But only for the sake of purging heresy.

They were formed for this purpose alone.

People who had lost family to cults. Lovers. Everything.

Avengers and martyrs—willing to die for a cause.

Their battles were always brutal, harsh, and merciless.

And yet, this terrifying man bowed his head easily.

"If I had seen this monastery burning, I would have regretted it for life."

These words were for his brother.

"Weren't you here to punish me?"

"I came to thank you, brother. For walking the right path."

The unnamed paladin stared in silence at his leader.

He, too, had come to save the monastery.

"Then... may I return once this is over?"

"If you're willing to be accepted."

He hadn't come with permission. That much was clear.

He'd forced his way here. And the High Priest, instead of punishing him, offered understanding.

A remarkable man.

Enkrid watched him, and the High Priest turned to Enkrid in return.

"I must thank you as well, Enkrid of the Border Guard. If not for you, I would have been too late."

"If you moved in spite of being late, then I say it wasn't late at all."

"Is that so?"

"That's how I see it."

"Then let us clean up the filth we spilled. Will you allow us?"

"By all means."

Enkrid withdrew his sword and stepped aside.

The blade Aitri had given him remained perfectly intact.

His choice was the will of the entire Mad Platoon.

"What now? Are we just spectators?" Rem approached, and Ragna—who had earlier turned away in fear—returned with slow steps.

"Did you see my wall?"

That was the first thing Ragna said to Enkrid, ignoring everyone else's stares.

"Mhm. It was messy," Rem replied.

"I wasn't talking to you, lucky savage."

"Who are you calling lucky, huh?"

Their argument wasn't serious, so Enkrid didn't stop it.

"Jaxon."

He had more important things to do.

Jaxon had quietly moved behind Enkrid, positioning himself where Overdeer had once stood.

He had intended to slit the throat of whichever seemed more threatening—but Overdeer looked easier to take.

Everyone here was used to sensing "Will," and they all realized what Jaxon had been planning.

What shocked them more was that no one had noticed his presence until Enkrid called him.

"I suppose I'll have to show my spring breeze another time."

Shinar spoke again, and Rophod, Pell, and Teresa all returned—dripping blood, mostly not their own.

"Two from under Rophod. Mission accomplished," Rophod said.

"Probably just two strays from Pell's side," Pell shot back.

"My sister, who is nobler than you lot, is still with me," Teresa added.

None of them seemed seriously injured if they were bantering like that.

Esther, by now, had returned to her leopard form.

"Why do I feel like I'm the only one left out of the conversation?"

Overdeer mused aloud.

Audin chuckled.

"Sharp as ever, brother. Get to work, won't you?"

"Yes, yes. That's what I came for."

Overdeer had once thought—if he couldn't bring Enkrid to his side, he'd simply stand by him. And that hadn't changed.

Even without Enkrid, this monastery might have held. That became clear now. It surprised him.

Overdeer was a calculating man. He had considered sacrificing the monastery if necessary.

"I almost made a terrible mistake."

He had already seen Enkrid's worth—no surprise there. But now his gaze sparkled as he looked at someone else.

A priest who couldn't wield divine power, standing unsteadily, sighing in relief.

His name was Noah.

Overdeer had investigated the monastery thoroughly after the Seiki incident.

Down to the personal pasts of everyone here.

That suited his nickname: the Prophet.

Investigate. Analyze. Predict.

To him, those standing beside Noah were not the kind to show courage. They should have backed down.

But they didn't. They stepped up. They tried to protect.

Why?

Because of the foreign Iron Wall Knight?

No.

"Noah, was it?"

"Ah, Sir Overdeer."

"Yes. Let's talk after this is done."

"If you're trying to threaten him, I'll be nearby."

Enkrid interjected from behind.

"Do I look like someone who would make threats?"

Overdeer tilted his head.

"Weren't you?"

Enkrid replied.

"What kind of person do you think I am? Tsk."

Overdeer chuckled and turned away. It was time to ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) do what needed doing.

The rot had to be cut from the apple tree he had so carefully tended.

He wouldn't remove it all—but at least it would be a start.

"From here on, time will be our ally."

Myl, watching the turn of events, realized he had lost.

"Damn it. Overdeer, was this your setup? Did you orchestrate all this?"

Overdeer was a master of manipulation. Myl knew this.

But this time, Overdeer was innocent.

He had come to clean up the mess that Myl had caused.

Enkrid's intervention was unexpected.

Iron Wall Knights were hard to predict.

"He won't be reasoned with. If he resists, send him to God. Kneel. Bow your head to the ground. Accept divine judgment. It's the last mercy you'll be given."

Overdeer wasn't gentle with enemies. Neither were the Purge Priests.

"If they resist, kill them all."

A short command—but all the more terrifying for it.

Especially with the High Priest leading from the front.

If Overdeer was the Prophet, the High Priest was the Berserker.

A nickname fitting the man—a warrior lost in battle.

His priests were the same.

"Should the Sanctified Demon Church really be destroyed? What is divine power for? Should this continent remain divided—or become one? Why doesn't the Empire act?"

Myl's last words were a torrent of questions.

The origin of his gray power was corruption—linked to the Demon King of the Demon Realm.

Not proof of demonic intervention, but...

Enkrid didn't bother chasing that thread. That was their problem now.

If not for Overdeer and the High Priest, protecting the monastery might have failed.

Noah acted like a man ready to die if it meant saving others.

And so, Enkrid simply watched the end of this chaotic affair.

Myl was not allowed to cast his fanatical spell. The priests Overdeer brought put a stop to it.

One by one, the rebels kneeled. Those who didn't were slain.

It wasn't even a battle.

The sun began to set. And with it, darkness came.

But tonight's darkness felt more like a velvet robe—warm and protective.

"Lord..."

"Lord..."

Noah knelt in prayer.

Before Overdeer even noticed, Enkrid had already understood.

Noah was never meant to be confined to just a monastery.

He'd sensed it from the start.

And now, it was plain to see.

Overdeer would not let him remain as he was.