A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 654

Chapter 654

The fairy who had stepped forward to lead the way had a background as a scout for the Information Guild. His time there had left him with sharp instincts. His vision was constantly in motion—a lingering reflex to catalog every detail within his field of vision.

A warrior clad in dark plate armor, collapsed upon the dirt, drew his attention. The silhouette was unmistakable.

Was that Black Serpent Ele?

Their paths had crossed only once, briefly, but the specific craftsmanship of that suit was burned into his memory. It was far too unique to misidentify. He noticed the names carved with care into the dark metal. Despite the malevolent aura clinging to the gear, those inscriptions radiated a sense of deep devotion.

Olivia. Sophia.

Truly, a sight one doesn’t forget. Assessing the wreckage around them, the sequence of the struggle became clear. The fairy, now serving as the replacement for Ermen, continued to study the scars left on the terrain.

He defeated them all by himself.

It would have been a remarkable feat if the trio had brought down Black Serpent Ele as a team, but the tracks in the mud told a different story.

“He was a member of the cult. An Apostle of Rebirth,” Lua Gharne remarked in that moment.

The fairy gave a grim nod and redirected his attention. The corpse clutching the staff topped with a circular iron ring had to be the second perpetrator.

An Apostle of the Rebirth Church. A plague upon the lands. A mouthpiece for the abyss.

Many such labels were attached to the figure Enkrid had finished. He wasn’t a supernatural entity, but a human whose cruelty surpassed them. Rumors claimed he had wiped out an entire population single-handedly, turning hundreds of souls into lingering spirits through his hexes. Had he lived another decade, he likely would have become a figure of dark myth.

That was the fairy’s internal calculation.

“He put up a fight, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle,” Peld claimed, chest out with false confidence.

The fairy, having fully processed the carnage, felt a surge of disbelief. He was so shaken he failed to maintain his professional mask.

“Is this reality?” he stammered, wide-eyed. “You actually took down an Apostle?”

“He felt like a fraud,” Enkrid answered, his voice devoid of any pretense. He was genuinely convinced of it. The fairy could see that Enkrid wasn’t merely hiding his pride—he sincerely believed the man was a pale imitation.

In fact, it was the warrior who remained stoic while the guide lost his composure.

“A fraud?”

The fairy didn’t buy it. He looked for confirmation, but Lua Gharne simply shook her head and turned to Enkrid.

“Enki.”

“Yeah?”

“Once we’ve returned, you need to test your blade against Rem.”

“That was already the plan.”

“Good. Then the truth will be clear.”

She didn’t elaborate on what he would discover, but a certain weight hung in the air.

“If that man was a fake, then his backers are the most talented theater troupe in the world. Or perhaps they are legendary tomb raiders. Even that plate mail and the rod the apostle carried are priceless relics of the highest order.”

The new guide following in Ermen’s footsteps possessed many talents, but he had one glaring weakness: he was far too talkative for a member of the fairy race. He blurted out that entire thought in a single gasp before refocusing on Enkrid.

“Do you think so?” Enkrid asked, nodding slightly.

The fairy took a long breath and launched into a sprawling explanation.

“Absolutely. That was the mark of Black Serpent Ele, and the apostle’s weapon was cast from enchanted alloy. Are you familiar with enchanted alloys? Ah, this brings me back to my first year working for the Information Guild. The woman at the front desk was named Emily. She seemed very dismissive at the start—I was convinced she despised me. It turns out I was wrong. I just hadn’t adjusted to human social cues. I realized later she was fond of me, even if her voice stayed sharp. I learned so much about human interaction from her. Especially… bedroom etiquette. Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t leave any half-fairy children behind. Emily assisted me in securing my maiden contract, and—”

Folk of the fairy woods were typically laconic. This verbosity was a side effect of his assimilation into human society. Since fairies are biologically incapable of lying, and information brokerage requires secrecy, he had developed a defensive mechanism: burying the truth under a mountain of irrelevant anecdotes to baffle the listener. It had become an unbreakable habit.

He saw no reason to change. His own people were patient enough to sift through the fluff for the core message. Enkrid followed the thread as well, though he found it tedious.

“Get to the point,” Enkrid cut him off.

The interruption came just as the fairy was about to recount the details of his second outing with Emily.

“Beg pardon?”

The fairy fell silent immediately. He couldn’t ignore the command of the man who had become their focal point.

“Give me the short version,” Enkrid commanded.

“Ah, understood.”

The fairy paused, realizing there was no deception required, and simplified his assessment.

“It is worth a fortune.”

Watching him, Enkrid found himself comparing the guide not to Ermen, but to Kraiss.

A fairy version of Kraiss.

A single thought boiled down to currency. Was it a result of being worn down by the world? Not quite. This fairy had managed the finances of his tribe, so a mercantile mindset was second nature to him.

It wasn’t a negative trait. Since they were now part of the broader world, they needed to master the art of exchange rather than retreating into isolation. Trade was the most logical bridge between cultures. Respect could grow later; the initial bond was usually forged through the negotiation of value.

Enkrid didn’t dwell on the philosophy. He assumed Kraiss or Abnaier would manage the logistics. He only asked about what piqued his curiosity.

“Why is it so valuable?”

“That rod is forged from a substance that drinks mana. As it consumes energy, it forms a psychic link. People call it living stone. Some even refer to it as a philosopher’s stone. Let me rephrase: ‘expensive’ doesn’t cover it. You could trade that for a small fortress.”

*Is that so?* Enkrid wondered who would find it most useful. Esther? Or perhaps Kraiss?

He gave a silent nod as the thought settled. The path back was clear of further threats.

The news of the cultist’s demise wouldn’t hit the continent like a thunderclap, but rather like a slow, soaking rain. The man had lived in the shadows. Had Enkrid not become such a massive complication, the Apostle of Rebirth likely wouldn’t have shown himself at all. This confirmed that Enkrid had been a consistent thorn in the cult’s side.

From the destruction of the gnoll tribes to the resolution of the Naurillian conflict. He had already ended the lives of the Apostle of Curses and the Apostle of Alchemy.

To the high-ranking members of the church, he was a variable that could no longer be left unchecked. They had been forced to freeze their other operations and focus their full might on him. It was logical. The mystery wasn’t why they were attacking now, but how Enkrid was still breathing.

Hexes failed to take hold of him. Poisons and transmutations were useless. Even the most elite killers sent from the shadows returned as corpses.

In reality, Enkrid had perished a thousand times over. But that was a secret he carried alone.

“The weather is turning,” Peld called out from the front.

Drips of water began to fall from the sky. It wasn’t the frozen bite of snow, but actual rain—the heavens signaling the transition out of winter.

A few days later, back within the walls of Border Guard, Lua Gharne watched a demonstration of how much Enkrid had evolved.

“…You bastard, what kind of training did you do out there?”

Rem had been bested. A clean loss in a duel against Enkrid.

Enkrid stood there looking confused, asking, “Are you joking? Put some effort into it. You don’t have to go easy on me.”

“Hmph. Fine. Let’s see how you handle this, you lunatic.”

Rem decided to stop holding back. In a non-lethal duel, there were few techniques more effective than those of the Wavebreaker Sword. It was a style built for the arena, forged in countless practice bouts.

Rem pivoted his weight in a flash, aiming a heavy axe swing at Enkrid’s head while simultaneously trying to crush his toes with a heavy stomp. If Enkrid moved to save his head, his foot would be pinned, allowing Rem to follow up with a devastating chain of strikes. It was a sophisticated maneuver designed to force an opponent into a panicked retreat.

The Enkrid of the past would have likely used raw power to tank the hit, accepted the foot injury, or jumped back to reset.

This time was different.

Enkrid shifted his weight, swept Rem’s foot aside with his own, and parried the axe with the short blade he had received from the fairies. There was no lag in his movements; he had countered both threats in a single, fluid moment.

Rem was stunned for a split second, but his muscle memory kept him moving.

*CLACK.*

The impact of the blades was muffled, but Rem felt an immediate chill of danger. That instinct was proven right a second later. Using the momentum from the parry, Enkrid swung the short sword back down. Rem couldn’t retreat in time, so he lunged forward, grabbing Enkrid’s wrist with his free hand.

Just as he thought he had neutralized the weapon—*thud*—Enkrid’s forehead slammed into his own.

Strategy aside, the impact sent Rem reeling. His vision blurred and stars danced before his eyes. He swung his axe blindly, but it met only air.

The fight stopped there. Enkrid didn’t press the advantage. He simply stood there, his expression unreadable.

It was a friendly match, and neither was trying to kill the other. Yet, the realization was jarring.

*Did I actually lose?*

Rem’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. Even against a monster like Ragna, he had never felt this outmatched in technique. Granted, if he had tapped into his full spiritual power and rituals, the outcome might have changed. A single headbutt doesn’t end a war.

But by the rules of the square, he had been beaten. If Enkrid had followed through after the headbutt, what would have happened? It was useless to wonder about “what ifs,” but the feeling remained.

*I would have lost.*

He refined the thought. If they fought ten times, he felt he would lose eight of them. He had been so shocked he’d asked Enkrid what he’d been doing, and when Enkrid told him to be serious, Rem had unleashed his full skill.

“Damn, your defense is like a mountain.”

Every opening had been sealed.

“I’ve titled it the Wavebreaker Sword,” Enkrid explained.

“My axe is meant to split more than just water,” Rem shot back.

“Is that right?”

The playfulness died. They were both fully focused. And yet, Rem could not find a way through. He was being steadily pushed into a corner.

*He’s relentless!*

It was like staring into a bottomless pit. That was the depth of Enkrid’s resolve. Rem might be durable, but if this became a test of endurance, he knew he was the one who would break first.

*Even in a life-or-death struggle… I don’t think I’d win.*

His gut told him the truth, which was the source of his shock. Furthermore, Enkrid wasn’t even using his primary weapon—just a shorter blade. It was a high-quality tool, but it lacked the reach of a full sword.

“Go again.”

Another quick trade of blows. In the truest sense, it was a lightning-fast exchange.

“That’s enough.”

With that, Rem flicked his wrist, sending out four rapid slashes before jumping back. It was a feint he had successfully used against Ragna before. With his strength augmented by divine power, the small movements carried the force of a landslide.

But Enkrid simply angled his steel and caught every single strike, despite the erratic trajectory. He deflected every one.

*CLACK, THUNK, PING, CLANG!*

The rhythm of the weapons was almost melodic. When the final ringing of metal faded and the two warriors stood still, they realized they weren’t alone.

Audin, who had been softly murmuring his prayers, was standing nearby, watching intently. From another side of the yard, Ragna—who had been lounging in the sun—was now sitting upright, his hand resting on the hilt of his own weapon. Even Jaxon had positioned himself on the edge of a nearby roof, chin resting on his hands, his eyes locked on the pair.

All of them had witnessed it. All of them understood what had just happened.