A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 656

Chapter 656

“Do you recall that technique known as the Beast’s Heart? I want you to instruct me.”
In the past, a certain individual had voiced that request, eager for knowledge.
At the time, Rem was convinced the man would be dead within thirty days. Considering the next engagement was only a fortnight away, she doubted he would survive the initial clash.
Ragna remained indifferent to the outcome. His only requirement was that he be left to his own devices. He intended to slip away from the Mad Squad when the opportunity arose without causing a scene.
However, even he lacked a clear timeline for his departure.
A warrior wandering without aim or conviction, Ragna only truly began to find his stride after witnessing Enkrid.
Before that encounter, he was immobile—a carriage lacking its wheels, a youth whose development had hit a wall, or a statue carved in place.
Yet, the moment he took those first steps, Ragna started to forge his own destiny.
That transformation was sparked entirely by that specific squad leader.
For Audin, Enkrid had originally appeared as nothing less than a divine emissary, though his perspective had since evolved.
“He isn’t a messenger—he is simply a man struggling to survive.”
The world contains such people, and the mere realization of this fact had sparked a massive internal shift for Audin.
“The only thing that truly counts is your internal state.”
He no longer required an immediate sign from the Heavens to find his footing.
“What is the purpose of my struggle?”
It didn’t need to be grand. It didn’t need to be sanctified. There was no requirement for his goals to be prestigious or worthy of praise.
Only those with self-assurance could remain steadfast.
And if they stumbled, it was no tragedy. Errors could be rectified. Realizing one was lagging behind didn’t mean one couldn’t still advance.
Even if he could no longer hear the voice of the Creator, the divine essence had already permeated his soul.
The catalyst for all of this was that chaotic squad leader.
“Does reciting those words actually provide you comfort?”
When Teresa first posed that question, Audin’s response had been straightforward.
“No, not particularly.”
“Then why do you persist in reading it?”
“Because it provides me joy.”
“Joy?”
“Indeed, I read it for the pleasure of it, Sister. If there is something you wish to discuss, please speak freely.”
Teresa then voiced the concerns weighing on her heart.
“Do you feel as though existence is trying to break you? Do you fear the blood of the giants within you will eventually consume your mind and reduce you to a mindless animal? Do you believe that if death is inevitable, you would prefer it come at the hands of Enkrid?”
Those were the words she had spoken.
In his dialogue with Teresa, Audin understood he was also interrogating himself.
Having suppressed his holy nature to roam the fields of war—was he searching for a way to live or a way to die?
During that aimless journey, he met the man called Enkrid.
A lunatic dancing on the razor’s edge of oblivion.
“Brother, what is the force that moves you?”
“Eh?”
“What is the reason you pick up your weapon?”
“I wish to be a knight.”
It was a basic ambition, neither masked nor embellished.
In that brief exchange, Audin grasped his own desires for the first time.
“Father, have you been observing me all along?”
While the group sat lost in contemplation, Jaxon descended from the heights of the roof.
“It appears there is no path forward except through blood. And currently, I am incapable of even that.”
The head of Geor Dagger, the guild of assassins, and the Master of Morning Dew.
To anyone familiar with Jaxon’s true status, such a confession would be entirely startling.
He had just confessed, with his own voice, that he currently lacked the means to strike Enkrid down.
Had his underlings—or his partner—overheard this, they would have dismissed it as a poor attempt at humor.
They had all been repelled. They had been bested. Whether they voiced the admission or kept it internal, their hearts had conceded the loss.
These were individuals who usually fought tooth and nail against even the ghost of a defeat, yet there was no malice in their eyes. Not a trace. Jaxon felt the same.
Standing before them was a man who didn’t pave his way with gore, steel, and toxins, but with existence, spirit, and aspirations.
A person who once could have been toppled with a simple shove had ascended to knighthood—and had now come back, blade drawn, after toppling a fiend.
He had dispatched a demon, wiped out fanatics, and sparked a transformation within himself.
“Well then, what is your perspective on this?”
Jaxon repeated the query. Not just the core four, but Rophod and Teresa were present as well. Twelve eyes watched him intently. Beside the spot on the roof where Jaxon had perched, a leopard stood with quiet dignity.
Enkrid returned his blade to its scabbard with a sharp click and raised a hand in the air. The group held their breath for his reply.
It was impressive enough that he had achieved knighthood, but he had now outpaced his own officers.
They were desperate to know the sensation of having climbed so high.
They shared this singular curiosity, watching him with a collective sense of hope.
Just as a feeling of warmth replaced their competitive urges—
Scritch.
Enkrid scratched at his scalp, looking around with a sense of embarrassment and furrowed brows, then whispered:
“So, this whole thing isn’t just a prank?”
Silence fell over the group.
What on earth had he just uttered?
If that was intended as an insult, it hit with the precision of a needle.
A vein began to pulse on Rem’s brow. Ragna made a sound of pure skepticism.
Audin began a soft invocation: “Father, shall I deliver one to your side?”
Jaxon was already gripping a Silence Dagger.
Rem spoke up, “…Should I just finish him off?”
“There’s no need for the whole group. Two of us will suffice,” Ragna added.
In the time Enkrid was gone, the friction between those two had become so severe they nearly killed one another. Blood had already been shed between their respective units.
A certain amount of competition can sharpen skills, but any extreme behavior carries its own darkness.
And where youthful passion is concerned, tempers are bound to flare.
Rem’s followers, regardless of age, were all of the hot-blooded variety.
Ragna’s men were no less aggressive—confrontations were bound to happen.
Kraiss was forced to constantly juggle their rotations just to keep the two groups from clashing; that was the extent of the animosity.
Yet now, the two commanders who had been at each other’s throats were in perfect harmony.
“You draw his gaze from the front, and the cat will strike from the rear. It’s settled.”
Rem outlined the strategy.
“Excellent. You take the left flank, I’ll take the right.”
“Fine by me. As long as we pin him down.”
“Agreed.”
Their synergy was seamless. Kraiss, who had spent his days worrying they would slaughter each other while Enkrid was away, would be both relieved and frustrated to witness this.
If they were capable of such cooperation, why had they spent so much time attempting to destroy one another?
Ever since a practice duel nearly turned lethal, the tension had been thick enough to cut.
The Mad Squad had been subdued in Enkrid’s absence.
The leaders continued to drill their men and missions were carried out, but the spark was missing. Or rather, the focus had shifted.
Difficulties were everywhere, but Kraiss identified the source. He was merely managing the chaos until the inevitable homecoming.
The moment Enkrid returned, everything would stabilize.
“Let us speak later. This is… uncomfortable.”
Enkrid spoke with total honesty after seeing their looks. He still hadn’t fully processed his new reality.
He believed Rem, Ragna, and Audin had simply chosen not to strike—but in truth, his assessment wasn’t far off.
“If you push any further, this will escalate into a genuine battle to the death. And even then, I am not certain I would emerge victorious today.”
Lua Gharne, who had been observing the scene in silence, understood his frame of mind and spoke up.
If it were merely a test of power and form, only a true fight would decide it. But even now, the atmosphere was telling.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon—none of them would swear they could win.
“There is a disconnect between your intuition and your logic. Go polish your skills and then we shall reconvene.”
He had intended to seek out Aitri, but he needed to digest his recent trials before he could explain them.
Thus, having returned, Enkrid simply dropped his gear and began to train with his sword.
It was a classic Enkrid move. Perhaps a bit dense—trying to bridge the mental gap through physical repetition.
But nobody found fault with the sight.
“Listen here, you aimless fool. I will show you the way myself. Get to the training grounds.”
Rem’s eyes sparkled with a manic energy. Witnessing that obsession in her leader always sparked something in her. That unwavering, fanatical drive.
“I was thinking the exact same thing. Come with me to the peaks.”
Ragna felt the same pull. He wanted another chance at Enkrid, but he knew—if he showed the same restraint he used with Rem, it wouldn’t be a legitimate test.
He wouldn’t be able to stop until blood was drawn. Mere practice wouldn’t be enough to overcome the Enkrid that stood there now. That was the reality.
“Why am I so energized?”
Ragna felt a rush of adrenaline he had never experienced. He was desperate to draw his sword and lose himself in grueling, fanatical practice.
Audin, observing the pair, adjusted his vestments. He intended to pack his things and depart as well. The squad’s drills could be put on hold.
“Sister Teresa.”
Caught between surprise, happiness, and confusion, Teresa answered.
“Can I be of any assistance?”
“You can.”
Audin decided on Teresa as his training companion. She was unaware of it, but her latent ability was more than just impressive—it was monumental.
She had felt a surge of grief upon the news of the Apostle’s passing, but she regained her composure quickly.
She was no longer the Teresa of the cult. She was the Teresa of the War God. Teresa of the Mad Knight Squad.
That role had become her foundation.
The four were heartened by Enkrid’s advancement—but that didn’t mean they were content to be left behind.
So he had caught up? Was that the end of the road?
“If you convince yourself it’s too late and stop trying, then you’ll truly never get anywhere.”
Enkrid said that often. And he was right. Because of that, they were filled with a new hunger to progress.
“I have someone I wish for you to meet. Inform me when your affairs are in order.”
Audin noted.
Enkrid, sharpening his focus, gave a nod.
“Understood.”
He had come home, yet the routine of life continued.
Kraiss visited shortly after, and Enkrid asked several questions and provided necessary updates.
“A unit of fanatics? If such a force existed, we would have had scouts reporting it by now. Granted, there are always cultists trying to infiltrate with aliases. Venzance nearly met his end recently because of that. It’s difficult to intercept everyone.”
There was no special task force of cultists dispatched by the Apostle of Resurrection. Even if there were, Enkrid wouldn’t have been concerned. That remark had been purely for provocation.
“So, tell me again, what did you say was approaching?”
Kraiss inquired once more.
“Fairies.”
“And what do we need to look out for?”
“Warn everyone not to attack when they encounter a walking tree.”
“…Is there time for a proper explanation?”
“Within forty-eight hours, they should be visible from the southern patrol route.”
As if on cue, Zero arrived to provide more detail. Kraiss took it all in and nodded.
“So… we shouldn’t panic when a massive tree walks toward the gates?”
“Not panic. Just don’t be caught off guard.”
Enkrid clarified, and Kraiss decided to process the shock later.
I’ll be stunned when it actually happens.
Postponing his reactions helped him maintain a cool head. Kraiss was a master of that kind of psychological discipline. It was better to analyze the facts than succumb to worry.
The City of Fairies.
A fountain overflowing with heated water—it’s wonderful once you step in.
They consume only vegetation, but even at the start of their journey, there was no lack of produce.
An entire fairy metropolis is relocating here.
A forest on the move. Truly?
No—hold the reaction. Not now.
Save the amazement for the event.
Still, it was enough to make anyone do a double-take.
Kraiss refocused his thoughts.
Unrivaled bowmen. Living trees that act as mobile fortifications. A woods filled with sprites rather than predators. Life-force everywhere. Energy, as they call it. Skilled artisans. Their special fruits are restorative.
Some are masters of alchemy—the Druid variants. Then there are the Woodguards who indulge in pipes. Stay calm.
Correct. A city of fairies is coming. The whole thing.
What is the gain?
What are the perks of having them as our neighbors?
In truth, it was far easier to count the benefits than the dangers.
First, it would be like having a natural bastion protecting the southern border.
A woods held by fairies, not beasts, would naturally drive away monsters and beast-folk.
Then, there was commerce.
If they traded with them, the potential rewards were limitless.
Enkrid hadn’t meant anything profound by his statement, but Kraiss extracted the exact data he required.
Expert smiths. If they use heat, they will need ore. A traveling forest likely has no access to mines. Metals would be a top-tier trade commodity.
Cultivated grains would also be highly sought after. Anything aside from forest forage would be a luxury.
Kraiss had inferred this from his time watching Shinar.
So, that is what they could provide. What could they receive in return?
Anne.
She was a physician and an alchemist. She once mentioned that the components found in a sprite forest were a goldmine for any practitioner of her craft.
“Ask any medic. If you could obtain water from the Fairy Spring, it wouldn’t just be a rare find—it would be worth fighting a war over.”
Curiously, Anne frequently slept in the Mad Knight Squad’s hall.
Nobody knew the reason. Perhaps she was infatuated with Enkrid? Kraiss had once shared tales of the Golden Witch and the Black Flower—but she had merely dismissed him.
“I wouldn’t want it even if it were a gift.”
To each their own. No point in debating it.
Beyond just the spring water—from a logistical standpoint, the city was a treasure chest.
Once the calculations started, the full picture emerged.
A source of wealth.
A prospect so lucrative it didn’t even need a formal appraisal. The scale was unknown, but no labor would be required.
With the funds you’d use to pay laborers, you simply trade for their goods instead.
It was a gold mine built on commerce. Not raw gold, but a value that mirrored it.
“We’ve hit the jackpot.”
Kraiss whispered.
And indeed, that was the only logical conclusion.