A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 649

Chapter 649

Aitri’s voice resonated from the heart of the magical fabrication.
“Is this for real?”
The question was brief but carried immense weight. It was also a sentiment the genuine Aitri would never have expressed openly.
‘Even if I had briefly switched to a different blade…’
In reality, she would have ignored the slight, only to obsessively drill in private until her own skills surpassed whatever she had witnessed.
Consequently, Enkrid believed that seeing a foreign style of combat would act as a powerful catalyst for Aitri’s growth.
“The blade is called Penna. In the common tongue of the mainland, it translates to feather—or perhaps leaf.”
Lephratio spoke, her attention shifting toward Enkrid’s belt. Specifically, she was looking at Burnt Spark.
“That weapon is finished. Relinquish it.”
It was hard to say if this was a stroke of luck or if she had been waiting for this moment, though the latter seemed more probable.
Enkrid hadn’t merely damaged the Silverblade; he had utterly destroyed it. Burnt Spark was in no better shape, its surface webbed with fractures.
While he was lost in the trance of the Wavebreaker technique, he hadn’t noticed his equipment failing, but now that the adrenaline had faded, he realized he was essentially unarmed.
the assault from the orange-hued demon had been devastating, falling upon him like a relentless storm of lightning.
By cycling through accelerated perception and fragmented thought, he had utilized the Wavebreaker style to parry the onslaught. In the process, he had sacrificed the Silverblade and had been forced to use Burnt Spark as a makeshift shield.
Now, his hands were empty.
‘And I lost Fortune back at the exit of the maze.’
Fortune had been incinerated to preserve Shinar’s life, reduced to a blackened, useless husk.
He hadn’t witnessed the final moment himself, having collapsed into unconsciousness immediately after the clash.
Only in hindsight did he grasp how thin the line between survival and death had been.
Enkrid silently unfastened Burnt Spark and passed it over. Lephratio accepted it, placing the ruined metal aside with care.
He would discover much later that Burnt Spark had also been a product of Lephratio’s craftsmanship in the distant past.
“What do you think?”
Lephratio’s tone remained flat, yet Enkrid could hear a faint tremor of pride.
Penna—Feather.
The name was perfectly fitting. As he wrapped his fingers around the hilt, the balance felt natural. The blade possessed a graceful curve and an edge that looked sharp enough to cut the air itself.
Lephratio plucked a single hair from her head and dropped it onto the metal. Without a sound, the strand parted in two.
“When it comes to pure lethality and cutting edge, this is the peak of my smithing career,” she declared, transitioning from the tongue of the fey to the language of the continent. The sword was indeed sharper than anything Enkrid had ever held.
“It requires no sharpening. Its own internal flow maintains the edge. The material—Moonlight Silver—was forged by distilling the essence of moonbeams into pure silver through ritual energy.”
Silver touched by moonlight was a thing of myth, a substance that existed more in fables than in reality.
“This is… incredible. A weapon like this must be a state treasure even here in the city.”
Enkrid was blunt in his assessment.
The blade was shorter than two hand-spans—too small for a primary battle sword—but its utility in close quarters would be unmatched.
“It is a treasure. Which is exactly why it belongs with you.”
She spoke as if the answer should have been obvious.
But Lephratio wasn’t the only one with an offering. The “preparations for migration” the fairy clans had mentioned were, in truth, partially about creating tributes for their champion.
“You actually gave him Penna? You once swore you’d be buried with that sword.”
As the exchange finished, a Druitess stepped into the warm chamber.
Her movement was ethereal, her feet barely brushing the stone, moving like a leaf caught in a gentle draft. She was the same woman Enkrid had noticed earlier in the clearing.
She gave a bright smile, her emerald eyes glowing with a supernatural radiance—different from Shinar’s, but no less haunting.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
Lephratio replied as the newcomer approached. She had fully expected to be consumed by the demonic corruption, but she had endured.
Unlike the Druitess, Lephratio showed no sentimentality. If anything, she looked relieved that Enkrid had taken the weapon.
“The rest of us have gifts for you as well.”
The Druitess said. Enkrid recalled Shinar mentioning that the Druitess clans prioritized the collective over the individual.
This communal nature was shared by the dust-scattering pixies, whereas the Woodguards were known for being more solitary and independent.
The intricacies of fairy politics were complex, but Enkrid didn’t feel the need to decode them now.
“This way.”
The Druitess took his hand and led him out. Lua Gharne followed behind, a mischievous smirk on her face.
“Your charm over the supernatural is quite potent.”
“There are even whispers that you aren’t just winning hearts—you’re stealing brides away.”
That jab came from Pell. Enkrid turned his gaze toward him.
The shepherd didn’t flinch. Using his sharpened intuition, Enkrid searched for the source of the rumor in Pell’s expression. He saw the man’s eyes dart to the side.
The pieces clicked together. The “bride-stealer” rumor had been started by Pell himself.
“Stop spreading ridiculous stories.”
Enkrid spoke with a firm authority, his words carrying a hint of his spiritual Will.
“…How did you catch me?”
Pell didn’t even try to deny it.
He hadn’t done it out of malice; shepherds were naturally inclined toward tall tales and playful deception. There was a reason their folklore was filled with tricksters.
Up until now, he’d lacked an audience, but his true personality was finally coming out.
The fairies were so gullible and easily entertained that his lies had become a source of amusement for the entire community.
“You’re transparent.”
As Enkrid observed Pell, a different thought occurred to him—something separate from the martial code he had recently refined.
It wasn’t something he could articulate yet, but he felt he was on the verge of a new realization.
“Seeing a move coming doesn’t matter if you aren’t fast enough to stop it.”
Pell countered with a smirk.
“We can test that in a duel later.”
Enkrid replied before following the Druitess.
They navigated a series of winding corridors until they reached a small, crystalline stream.
It was an odd sight within the city walls.
Beyond the water lay a lush, verdant grove that had been hidden from view.
Despite the winter season, the air here was strangely balmy. Insects buzzed and butterflies danced between the trees.
“This is meant to be worn beneath your plate.”
The Druitess signaled to two smaller companions, who brought forward large, bundled leaves.
When the leaves were pulled back, their craftsmanship was revealed.
The Druitess weavers create thread by interlocking the fibers of sacred trees.
These threads are steeped in Woodguard resin for days and then left to cure under the moon.
This process, repeated over years, results in a material known as Fairy Thread.
The gift was a garment woven from this legendary silk—an undershirt designed for protection.
‘Kraiss would lose his mind if he saw this.’
In the human world, even a mountain of gold wouldn’t buy a glimpse of such a thing.
Like human textiles, Fairy Thread had different grades.
This particular piece was made from the most durable variety.
It was a sleeveless vest covering the chest and back. Even a light touch confirmed its strength; it felt as resilient as high-grade steel mail.
“It resists fire, it cannot rust, and it is a natural conductor for energy. Most malevolent spirits will flee at the mere sight of it.”
Fey energy was the essence of life, making it the natural bane of the undead and demons.
This was why fairies could live on the fringes of the world without being overrun by monsters.
Enkrid finally understood the logic.
‘By simply existing with this energy, they repel the darkness.’
However, they were now facing foes that energy alone couldn’t stop.
‘If I cannot defend myself with my own skin—’
Then accepting the strength of others was the only logical path.
The situation was becoming clear in his mind.
Seeking help required setting aside his ego, but if Ermen, the leader, made all the decisions alone, the people would revolt.
Internal strife would destroy the migration before it began.
Convincing every stubborn fairy would take a lifetime—time they didn’t have, as evidenced by their near-annihilation by the demons.
But forced compliance would breed resentment. How could they ensure everyone followed?
The answer was obvious.
‘Was this Shinar’s plan?’
Or perhaps Ermen’s?
Enkrid had been showered with treasures and elevated to the status of a living legend among the fairies.
Some had even begun carving his likeness into stone.
Fey children were already carrying these small icons like good-luck charms.
It was a temporary obsession, a cultural fad, but it had become the standard.
For the fairy leaders, this was a calculated move.
‘They won’t follow a stranger.’
They needed a figurehead they could adore and trust.
By turning him into an idol, they could silence any internal opposition to the migration. It was a way to bypass politics.
Humans see a fire and utilize it. Frokk will simply observe the flames.
Giants challenge the fire. Dwarves harness it for the forge.
Beast-folk flee from it. Dragons pay it no mind.
And fairies—
‘They douse the embers before the fire even starts.’
It was an old saying about problem-solving.
Fairies are eternal planners. That is how they survived the shadow of the demonic realm for so long.
They didn’t just rely on magic; they relied on social engineering. And that instinct remained sharp.
Even if Enkrid hadn’t pointed them toward a new home, they would have found a way to tie him to their fate.
It was a beautifully laid trap.
Fairies are incapable of lying, so they simply omit the truths that don’t serve them.
It was ironic—perhaps because of his recent mental breakthroughs—but this realization felt connected to his new understanding of the world.
He didn’t have the full picture yet.
But he didn’t resent them for it; he respected the strategy.
He also understood Ermen’s true goal.
It wasn’t about the glory of their people—it was about their continued existence.
In that regard, Ermen was a perfect leader.
When Enkrid returned to his room laden with gifts, he found Ermen waiting for him.
“The trek is almost ready. Will you be accompanying the first group?”
“I should go on ahead. If a column of walking trees suddenly appears, the locals will panic and assume it’s an invasion.”
Ermen had described how the city itself would move. Enkrid could visualize the chaos it would cause among humans.
“I suppose humans are easily frightened.”
Enkrid thought about correcting him—that some wouldn’t be scared, they’d just start sharpening their axes—but he stayed quiet. It didn’t change the plan.
Looking at Ermen’s composed face, he asked:
“Whose idea was the idol worship?”
He didn’t bother being subtle.
Ermen didn’t blink.
“The concept was mine. Shinar was the one who executed it.”
Enkrid realized Ermen was far more devious than he looked. Conversely, Ermen realized that Enkrid was much more than just a talented warrior.
That realization brought the fairy leader peace.
It was better to link their survival to a man like this than to a mindless brute.
According to Shinar’s tales, there was such a brute in the Border Guard.
Some warrior who got lost and accidentally slew a high-ranking enemy knight?
Such concepts were alien to fairies.
Then again, humans didn’t fully comprehend the Mad Knight Squad either.
But coexistence didn’t require perfect understanding. It only required acceptance.
That was Ermen’s philosophy.
“Very well.”
The move would take months. The departure would happen in stages.
‘It’s safer to move in smaller groups to avoid attracting too much attention.’
There would be predators and beasts along the route, but based on what he’d seen of the fairies’ power, they could defend themselves.
‘The local lords are going to be in shock when they see this.’
Regardless, before the main body of the city moved, Enkrid prepared to depart.
“You are my betrothed. Are you really leaving without even trying to start a family?”
Shinar’s parting words were characteristically blunt.
“Do you find this entertaining?”
Enkrid asked.
Her devotion to the man who saved her was immense. She nodded solemnly.
“Exceedingly.”
As Enkrid made his way out, the entire fairy population halted their work to see him off.
Some pressed letters into his hands. Others offered baskets of fruit, meticulously prepared for travel.
“Back off, he’s my fiancé.”
Shinar chided the crowd in her monotone voice. It was clear she was just playing along.
The other fairies didn’t even flinch.
“The real winner is the one who has him in the end, Kirheis!”
One fairy shouted a playful challenge, and the crowd dissolved into laughter and bickering.
Enkrid listened for a moment before deciding some things were beyond his comprehension.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Shinar was scheduled for the next wave, so the separation was only temporary.
Along with Lua Gharne and Pell, Zero joined the party as their scout.
In a short span, Zero’s abilities had reached new heights.
Specifically, his ability to weaponize his emotions in a fight surpassed any other fairy.
When his passion flared, he didn’t become reckless; he used that energy to fuel his strikes. It was a difficult balance to strike, a mark of genuine potential.
Undoubtedly, Enkrid’s mentorship had been the catalyst.
As they traveled, Enkrid began to discuss his recent epiphanies with Lua Gharne.
To any observer, it was just talk to pass the time on the road. But the content was revolutionary.
“I understand.”
Lua Gharne nodded, adding,
“You’re looking for a new perspective.”
The Frokk was incredibly sharp.
“Yes. A Frokk with the ability to perceive potential must have a system for categorizing it, right? I want to know how you see things.”
Frokk saw the ceiling of a person’s ability. From that limit, they could deduce the end of a journey, and from the end, the beginning.
He was right. The Frokk had a highly structured way of evaluating the world.
“Instruct me.”
Enkrid requested.
Simply establishing his own knightly code wasn’t enough; he wanted to expand his horizon.
Lua Gharne saw once more the sheer scale of the man’s ambition.
That insatiable thirst for knowledge was his true power. If he had been born a Frokk, he would have walked into a volcano just to see how the heat felt.
‘If he were one of us…’
As long as “that” part of him remained dormant, he was essentially immortal in spirit. He would push himself until there was nothing left but dust.
“I will.”
Lua Gharne agreed immediately.
She had no secrets from him. This man’s existence had already overturned her fundamental beliefs.
“Boundaries are meant to be crossed.”
She was looking at the proof. And as she listened to the framework Enkrid was building, a final thought took root.
The art of shattering limits.
That was the destination Enkrid was heading toward.