A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 644

Chapter 644

‘The exhaustion was simply overwhelming.’
He had spent two entire days pushing his physical form and his psyche to their absolute limits in the heat of conflict. He was far from his peak—nothing like the state he usually maintained.
‘If I had been in my normal condition, I would have parried that without effort.’
This wasn’t a lapse in focus. He wasn’t searching for excuses to justify a mistake.
It was a deeply ingrained habit—his constant process of evaluation. What steps should be taken if a similar threat arose? Or, more importantly, how could he ensure such a predicament never happened again?
That specific line of reasoning was a hallmark of the Lua Gharne training philosophy. Not every Frokk adhered to those principles, making it a signature of Lua Gharne’s personal legacy.
It was a strategy and a warrior’s mindset developed not by an entire people, but by a single mind.
On this occasion, the foundation of his thought-partitioning ability had been leveled up—one of those mental compartments was now saturated with the tactical logic of Lua Gharne.
Enkrid pushed the concept even further.
‘The fight begins with the ground you claim.’
A patch of earth hidden from the sun. A spot where the light won’t blind. A stance that utilizes the breeze.
Even the most marginal gain was vital.
The mental processing didn’t take long. The solution arrived with speed.
While the latter was pure combat intuition, the former was a perfect match for Enkrid’s natural gift for using logic and patience as tools to find a way forward.
After a brief moment of introspection, he arrived at a clear realization.
‘Both my vessel and my spirit still have plenty of room to grow.’
When Will is channeled completely through the physique, the skin and muscle turn rigid. The act of naming that specific transformation is what led to the technique known as Endure.
‘They merely gave a label to a process.’
As one directs Will to withstand impact and agony, the flesh starts to take on the quality of a giant—an iron hide.
‘Will provides the body with strength.’
The pioneer who first conceived of Endure or Iron Hide likely sought to mimic the resilient skin of the giants.
Once they mastered the exterior, they surely aimed to fortify the internal organs, the muscle fibers, and the connective tissues.
But is Will the only requirement?
Hardly. Before any magical or spiritual reinforcement can work, the foundation must be unshakable. You need a robust frame and a steady mind from the very beginning.
And that foundation could only be forged through relentless, repetitive labor.
Even at this moment, Enkrid’s capabilities far exceeded those of a standard knight. However, if ambition were a fire, Enkrid’s burned hot enough to turn mountain ranges to ash.
Consequently, his takeaway was blunt and simple.
‘Training.’
Two short syllables. That was the essence of what remained. More than ever, he felt a desperate urge to plunge back into the cycle of practice and self-improvement.
He had just ended the life of a demon—he could have allowed himself a moment of pride. Yet, there was no trace of it within him.
This was the internal sanctuary, the realm of visions. The Ferryman perceived the state of Enkrid’s soul.
The flowing waters of the river were motionless. The Ferryman, watching in quiet contemplation, finally broke the silence.
“Even in a time such as this, your mind is fixed on labor and discipline?”
“…Ah.”
It was only then that Enkrid looked up, appearing as though he had just realized the Ferryman was there. Not that he showed any signs of being startled.
“Don’t act as if you just spotted me, human.”
“…Aa.”
Enkrid gave a subtle nod of agreement.
“I am fully aware that you noticed me a long time ago and chose to disregard me while you were lost in your own ideas. Do you truly believe I am unable to perceive your thoughts in this place?”
“Ahh.”
Enkrid lacked a verbal defense, so he offered a heavy breath of admission. It wasn’t intended to be mocking.
Fortunately, the Ferryman showed no signs of irritation or anger.
“Indeed, you are that particular brand of idiot. I suppose it is my duty to provide you with a necessary caution. The strike that hit you was saturated with the intent of that demon.”
“…I understand.”
He nodded, despite not fully grasping the complexity of the statement. Normally, the Ferryman would end the conversation there. No further details provided.
“If you surrender to that intent… then yes, we will all witness the emergence of a brand-new demon.”
But for some reason, the Ferryman was being uncharacteristically informative, leading Enkrid to ask,
“Is it… a malady? A curse?”
“A curse? You honestly think such a petty thing could take hold of you?”
The Ferryman’s gaze ignited. A spark of deep violet flared within his eyes.
“There is no hex in all of existence that would dare to think it could command you.”
From the Ferryman’s stubborn insistence, Enkrid was able to piece together a few certainties.
There had indeed been a genuine curse embedded in the demon’s attack—but the Ferryman had already neutralized it.
“Am I expected to offer thanks for that?”
“There is no need.”
Neither of them functioned within the bounds of standard communication. Their intellects arrived at points through highly condensed reasoning, tossing out short sentences like stones falling into a lake.
Enkrid stared directly into the eyes of the Ferryman. Despite the entity’s coarse, ashen skin, his piercing eyes and the sharp bridge of his nose were striking features.
He bore a strange resemblance to that warrior with the shield Enkrid had encountered in his visions.
If he possessed golden hair and eyes of blue… the similarity would be undeniable. They could have been brothers.
“Have you always possessed this appearance?”
“Are you finally choosing to look at my face?”
“It is visible, nothing more.”
Did this mean Enkrid was drawing closer to the Ferryman’s level of existence? Or was this a deliberate choice by the Ferryman?
Enkrid had no way to be sure. It felt like a matter of chance. Or perhaps the Ferryman had simply allowed his composure to slip for a heartbeat.
Not that asking would bring a straight answer.
“…Why did you choose to assist me?”
He asked because all signs pointed to this being the same presence—the one who spoke about traveling the path away from the flames.
“If you were stuck in a repeating ‘today’ like that, observing you wouldn’t provide any amusement.”
The Ferryman gave his reply. A ghost of a grin pulled at his mouth. It looked like a smile, though it gave his features a predatory, distorted quality.
After that unsettling expression, the Ferryman went on.
“If you have no desire to perish, then struggle as much as you like. You don’t want to remain trapped in this version of today, do you? I didn’t bother to close it off. I left the path accessible on purpose. I thought the spectacle might be worth watching.”
Behind the Ferryman’s silhouette, something moved closer, resembling drifting smoke.
His speech was filled with jagged edges. Hostility was clearly lingering beneath the surface.
As Enkrid watched in silence, the Ferryman concluded.
“If it manages to consume you even once, everything ends.”
Enkrid struggled to grasp the meaning. It was as if he was being given the finale of a story he hadn’t even started yet.
He closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, the river, the Ferryman, and the glowing lamp had vanished.
In their stead stood the demon.
No, it wasn’t a demon yet.
He was witnessing the creature before it had earned that title.
Though no one explained it to him, he knew instinctively—this was the individual.
The entity that had feasted upon the essence and the blood of the fairies.
He had started as a fairy. Someone who hungered to reach greater heights—not merely to sustain himself on life force, but to transcend his very nature.
A fairy intoxicated by greed, perfectly willing to transform into a demon if that was the price of his goal.
Emotions sharpened into blades, stabbing without mercy. Who could truly comprehend that burning thirst and drive if not someone like Enkrid?
“Witness me!”
The memory forced its way into his mind. The fairy’s consciousness seeped in like a thick fog, attempting to merge with him.
“Look at the life I led!”
The catalyst that turned this fairy into a demon—what was the root of it?
The spirit was trying to infect him. Altering his perceptions, making things hazy.
This was the demon’s objective.
But Enkrid simply skimmed through the images it tried to project. It wasn’t a difficult task.
Tuning out the Ferryman, staying focused on his training, ignoring the tragic backstory a demon or a fairy wanted to recount—it was all the same mental muscle.
The demon became desperate. It had to entice its prey.
“No! You must take in my legacy! I can provide you with power beyond your wildest dreams. I will assist you in expanding your Will!”
Enkrid had never once felt that his Will was insufficient.
“I will toughen your frame! I will allow you to break past the constraints of mortal biology!”
Audin had always maintained: anything other than nourishment, hydration, and grueling practice was a shortcut to nowhere.
You could inflate your body with chemicals, but it would collapse the moment the substances faded. Hollow strength.
When it came to the topic of muscles and physical conditioning, Audin permitted no shortcuts. Even the members of the Mad Platoon held that in high regard.
Even Rem, when it came to the matter of Enkrid’s physical development, had deferred entirely to Audin’s judgment.
“You construct today on top of yesterday. That is the definition of training.”
That was the core of Audin’s philosophy.
And Enkrid had fully embraced it. That was why he hauled massive rocks, took hits without flinching, and practiced Endure until his body felt like tempered steel.
Therefore, the demon’s promises carried no significance.
The spirit’s approach changed.
A shadow made of dark soot, slick with a cold sweat, began speaking rapidly within the theater of his mind.
“I will gift you an allure that can captivate anyone, regardless of their logic or status.”
Now that was something he truly had no use for.
“…For heaven’s sake.”
The demon uttered its own name a thousand times, but Enkrid let the sound pass through his mind without stopping.
To truly hear something, one must first master the art of total dismissal.
With a flat, calm focus, Enkrid wiped away the presence of the fairy-who-became-a-demon.
The fairy culture had a long-standing rule of not naming demons, so as not to grant them power or permanence.
Their perspective on such creatures was built on that foundation.
But Enkrid took it a step further.
He offered nothing but complete and total indifference.
The demon attempted to shriek its existence into the fabric of reality—but Enkrid was not the type of person who could be shaken by such a display.
“You insane mortal…”
That was its final, desperate cry.
But even that barely registered with Enkrid. He felt a sensation of light—the polar opposite of the void—pulling him back, and he opened his eyes.
“I feel rested.”
He transitioned out of the dream state. His muscles were still stiff and aching, not quite like he’d been wandering a wasteland, but his throat was parched.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position and spoke.
A voice answered him immediately.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘rested’?”
It was Lua Gharne. Enkrid’s vision was still a bit hazy. He blinked several times until the world came back into sharp focus.
“I had a dream. I can’t recall any of it.”
If the deceased demon happened to be listening to that, it would likely be screaming curses at Enkrid’s ancestors.
“You’re talking about dreams at a time like this?”
This voice belonged to Pell.
Enkrid shifted his gaze toward the ceiling, which was unfamiliar to him. It appeared to be a chamber within the fairy settlement. The air was thick with the scent of fresh greenery. The roof above was constructed from woven tree roots.
A sharp, pungent aroma tickled his nose.
“The champion has finally returned to us.”
That was Bran’s voice.
Finally, he took in the full scene. Dozens of calm, silent eyes were fixed upon him. The room felt cramped with so many people filling the space.
Fairies. The chamber was crowded from one wall to the other with fairies—all of them standing.
“What… is the meaning of this?”
Enkrid asked, feeling a bit caught off guard. The sight was almost eerie, like a scene from a strange vision.
“In case things took a turn for the worse, we gathered every fairy who was prepared to sacrifice their own essence to keep you alive. It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
The explanation came from Shinar. She was seated in a chair near the head of his bed, her green eyes as cool and composed as they always were. Her voice was controlled, though there was a hint of warmth in it.
Enkrid was accustomed to that tone.
“You’ve been unconscious for ten days,” Pell noted.
“…It’s no wonder I feel so light.”
“You do realize you were on the brink of death, don’t you?”
“No.”
Enkrid had completely discarded the memory of the demon’s final moments—not just the words, but the event itself had been purged.
Then he was told the details of his ordeal.
His eyes had turned a deep crimson, weeping tears of blood. His nose had bled profusely. The veins throughout his entire body had become swollen and visible.
He had been consumed by a fever so intense his lips had cracked and bled.
He could feel the rough scabs on his lips even as they spoke.
Despite all of that, he didn’t feel terribly dehydrated.
“Shinar didn’t move from your side for several days, ensuring you had water,” Bran mentioned.
Shinar, positioned right next to him, picked up a wooden flask and gracefully poured water into her own mouth. Then she leaned toward him with a faint, knowing smile.
The smile suggested exactly how she had administered the water to him.
She swallowed the liquid herself.
In reality, it had been done through a specialized leaf-pipe crafted for medical use, but Enkrid had no way of knowing the truth.
There were dozens of fairies in the room.
He even recognized the one who had been his guide earlier—though he had forgotten the name.
Too many events had transpired that day. Ending the demon’s life had used up every ounce of his energy. There was no space left for keeping track of names.
Even the layout of the labyrinth was beginning to blur in his mind.
“Hmm… are you Jorman?”
Enkrid directed his question toward a fairy he assumed held a leadership role in the council.
“Who is that? My name is Ermen.”
To a fairy, having their name forgotten after only a few days could be taken as a slight, but he didn’t show any sign of being insulted. He simply corrected the mistake with a sense of kind patience.
The atmosphere in the room made the situation clear.
After getting a basic grasp of the circumstances, Enkrid understood that his health was actually in decent shape.
Shinar stood up from her seat.
As she rose, the fairies surrounding the bed moved aside in a perfectly coordinated fashion.
Shinar Kirheis. Known as the Golden Witch within the Border Guard, but in this place, she was a figure of authority similar to a queen.
She took a few steps back to position herself properly in Enkrid’s field of vision, then she dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
Then she began to speak.
“I speak now on behalf of the entire fairy race. To you, Enkrid of the Border Guard, I extend our deepest gratitude. And in the presence of all the gathered clan leaders, your Frokk companions and your seed alike, I declare this…”
“Who are you calling a seed?”
Pell whispered under his breath, but no one else dared to make a sound.
Perhaps they had already known what she intended to say. Or maybe they had been expecting this exact outcome.
The entire room fell into a heavy silence.
Enkrid, uncertain of what was unfolding, remained quiet, respecting the solemnity of the moment.
Shinar offered a smile.
She didn’t look like a witch now—she looked like a golden celestial being. Her smile was incredibly bright.
Her eyes were perfectly balanced. Her nose was straight and elegant. Her pink lips parted to speak the final words.
“Until the day you enter your eternal sleep… I will engage in combat with you, whenever you desire.”
Enkrid noted that she had strangely paused and changed her phrasing in the middle of the sentence—but he didn’t dwell on it.
What she had just recited was a variation of the traditional fairy marriage oath.
The original version was:
“Until eternal rest, I shall remain by your side.”
She had simply tailored it to fit him.