A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 660

Chapter 660

“Some people refer to me as the Ragged Saint. My apologies for the delay; I was occupied with the youngster.”
While he described it as “playing,” the reality was that he had been instructing Seiki on the management of celestial power. This divine energy had surfaced within Seiki’s frame spontaneously, lacking any structured guidance. Without immediate lessons in containment, the force threatened to inflict physical trauma upon her.
Concerned for her well-being, Audin had requested the help of his foster father—the man known as the Ragged Saint. This obligation was the sole reason for his late arrival. In his view, ensuring the safety of the young Seiki took precedence over all else.
Positioned beside the self-titled holy man, Seiki lifted her gaze and remarked,
“You look even more like a monstrous entity than before.”
Since their initial encounter, Seiki had displayed an extraordinary intuition. The root of her gift was a razor-sharp sense of perception, and once again, she had identified the metamorphosis within Enkrid.
Even without her innate talent, the transformation would have been obvious given the constant chatter surrounding him.
“Word is the delusional squad leader shattered the hearts of countless maidens and reached a new state because of it.”
“I heard the spirits of the forest collected blood for him to consume.”
“Is it actually possible for a human to change that much through nothing but brutal training?”
Absurd rumors were circulating everywhere, but Seiki, despite her innocence, was no fool. She possessed the discernment to filter through the nonsense.
“Suggesting I become a divine guardian… that was merely a prank, right?”
The man—Audin’s guardian and the supposed saint—spoke once more. His delivery was straightforward, his grin modest and lacking pretense. He gave Audin’s powerful shoulder a friendly nudge, a movement that spoke of deep, effortless bond.
Audin offered nothing but his characteristic soft smile in return, his expression warming.
To Enkrid, Seiki’s prowess felt evolved, yet his focus remained primarily on the saint’s appearance. For a man labeled “Ragged,” his wardrobe was strikingly opulent.
Clink.
As the man offered his hand, a heavy gold band rattled on his wrist. His fingers were weighted down by rings featuring vibrant gems—rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. A pendant hung from his neck, boasting four distinct jewels set in a frame that shimmered with the luster of silver.
He was draped in fabrics as smooth as silk—luxuries that even established nobles would consider a distant dream.
‘That is an ensemble a struggling aristocrat couldn’t afford if they saved for a lifetime.’
Andrew, despite his noble birth, still wore rough, utilitarian clothes. That was certainly the case when Enkrid last saw him.
He had purchased a single formal suit for an event requiring a tailcoat, intending for it to be his only luxury.
“If I forgo fine food or expensive threads, that is one more portion of meat for the commoners of my lands. There is no place for vanity here,”
—that was Andrew’s constant refrain. It was a logical stance for someone rebuilding the Gardner legacy. The true challenge was actually sticking to such a spartan lifestyle.
Naturally, Andrew had modeled his discipline after Enkrid’s own and was making steady progress toward his ambitions.
The Ragged Saint flickered his clouded eyes. The lack of focus made it painfully evident that he was nearly blind—a fact that required no verbal confirmation.
“One must maintain a connection to the Creator, even if one avoids the path of a holy knight. Conviction is of the utmost importance.”
The atmosphere was pleasant—a luminous, clear day in spring. As the winter chill faded, the scarred trees—battered during sparring sessions with Rem—stood as silent witnesses while new, vibrant growth pushed through the soil.
Enkrid could feel the attention of Rem and Ragna from across the quiet grounds.
They had glanced over to investigate the commotion, identified the Ragged Saint, and promptly returned to their own business.
Jaxon had departed at dawn citing personal matters, and Esther remained in her leopard form for the day.
Enkrid had intended to visit the lower city early on, but after his morning drills, the holy figure had obstructed his path.
“That girl, and you as well—do neither of you harbor faith in the Divine?”
He followed up with the question.
“Not particularly.”
Enkrid provided a blunt response. His tone wasn’t meant to be insulting; he was simply providing a direct answer to the query.
The old man’s speech and demeanor weren’t exactly irritating, but they weren’t particularly pleasant to endure either.
His voice was gravelly, and his skin was marked with age spots. Yet, looking at him—
‘If he stepped into a cathedral dressed like that, wouldn’t they take him for a corrupt high priest living off the tithes of the poor?’
As Enkrid contemplated this, the saint addressed his ward.
“Audin.”
“Yes.”
“If I commanded you to slay this man this instant, how would you respond?”
The Ragged Saint posed the question with that same unchanging smile. Enkrid didn’t intervene. This wasn’t a test of whether Audin would actually obey.
‘Kraiss.’
The saint possessed that specific type of temperament. Similar to Kraiss, Abnaier, or Ermen.
Individuals of that ilk imbued every syllable with hidden layers. Every sentence held a web of competing motives.
The saint was so adept at masking his true thoughts that Enkrid couldn’t find a single thread of clear intent.
‘He might be even more convoluted than Kraiss.’
He appeared to be concealing even more than Ermen. Regardless, Audin maintained his grin and answered.
“Have you finally lost your mind to old age?”
The saint let out a sudden burst of laughter at the remark.
“Not quite yet.”
“If you are feeling unwell, there is a practitioner of divine healing nearby. Or perhaps a chemist with a stock of tonics,” Enkrid suggested.
The saint chuckled again, dismissing the idea with a shake of his head.
“I assure you, I am perfectly fine.”
“This elder is more proficient with celestial energy than I am,” Seiki noted from the side.
Audin waved off the saint’s provocations with ease.
“He has always had a fondness for riddles and nonsense. I suppose it was a joke in the divine style, brother.”
First there were the jokes of the fae, and now divine humor?
Enkrid ignored the comment, but then the Ragged Saint stepped closer and inquired,
“You are bound for the metalworks, I assume? Would you mind my company? Seiki, you must practice the exercises I showed you every day, morning and night.”
“Reciting prayers? That’s tedious.”
Seiki gave a dissatisfied pout.
“You have to master that tedium. It is the only way to wield the power with precision.”
The Ragged Saint rested a hand on Seiki’s shoulder, offering a comforting pat.
Moments ago, he had the air of a greedy prelate. Now, he projected the image of a profound mentor. The gems decorating his person even seemed to catch the light like a spiritual aura.
“I shall be going then, Audin.”
“I don’t recall giving you my leave to join me,” Enkrid noted, remaining unmoved by the man’s aura.
The old man’s words began to flow with rapid-fire intensity.
“If you refused, I simply intended to trail behind you in the shadows. Would you truly be so heartless to a sightless old traveler? Have I miscalculated your character? Or is it simply the fashion of the youth to bully the elderly these days?”
He had shifted from a sage back to a cantankerous old man having a fit.
“You certainly have a gift for words,” Enkrid remarked.
“How do you think a penniless wanderer like myself managed to stay alive all these years?”
“Through divine sorcery?”
“Aha, you caught me there. You aren’t wrong—I certainly leaned on that quite a bit.”
He spoke with a confidence that suggested he hadn’t been flustered in the slightest.
“I was told you only feign your blindness?”
“Audin, you really can’t keep a secret, can you?” The Ragged Saint teased the younger man.
“Was that meant to be confidential?”
“Not especially.”
The back-and-forth was beginning to feel like a performance, and it was stalling for time. Enkrid saw no harm in the company—and he was curious to study this saint further. He finally relented.
“Come along then.”
“Please be patient with him. He can be quite useful if you find yourself in a bind, brother.”
Audin offered a small bow of appreciation.
From across the way, Rem yelled out,
“Are you heading to see that fellow Aitri to get a shield? Ensure it’s a tough one!”
“I’ll see to it.”
Enkrid gave a short reply and started walking.
“And if you spot any assassins aiming for my head, be sure to take care of them as well,” the Ragged Saint added.
“What exactly did you do to merit assassins?”
“Well, my movements have become public knowledge recently. Officially, I was supposed to have perished in Legion. But now the world knows I’m very much alive. Naturally, there are several parties who would prefer me silenced.”
“It sounds like you’ve accumulated a fair share of enemies.”
“Not many. Perhaps ten or so.”
“You consider that a small number?”
“In the grand scheme of things, yes.”
Since everyone’s perspective is relative, Enkrid didn’t press the issue.
Audin watched the pair walk away. He understood the nature of his foster father’s soul. He wasn’t a man of malice. There was no risk in letting the two of them depart together.
The most the old man would do is play a few harmless games.
Audin thought back to the first time his father had come to find him at the Border Guard.
“I’ve broken the seals, released your divine potential once more. I’ve found you a home. Do you feel more at ease now?”
“I am recovering, bit by bit.”
“Do the apparitions still haunt you?”
“They visit for a conversation on occasion.”
Audin had already admitted to the sightings of Pildin—the youth who had been brought there and martyred as a “Holy Child.”
Hearing Audin’s reply, his father smiled and squeezed his arm. The question he had posed earlier to Enkrid was in line with everything he had told Audin.
He never truly intended for Audin to strike down Enkrid. He merely wanted to send a message to the commander:
That his loyalty was no longer bound to the Temple, but to the Mad Knights.
‘He perceives the truth even without it being spoken.’
There was no need to spell it out for Enkrid.

—

“I am aware that Audin’s path is now tied to the Mad Knights.”
Enkrid spoke as they cleared the military grounds, returning the salute of the guard at the gate.
“Just making things clear.”
The saint acknowledged that Enkrid had seen through the subtext of the question he’d asked Audin. He had acted with full awareness.
The saint’s cane tapped rhythmically as they progressed, and Enkrid was struck by a memory of two individuals from his past.
One was the sightless elder who claimed the title of apostle. The clothing was different, but they shared the same cunning—the same habit of masking their internal world.
‘But they are fundamentally distinct.’
Their presence felt entirely different. That self-proclaimed apostle had dripped with a sense of peril, whereas this old man did not.
If he were truly harboring that level of darkness, he would be a greater threat than Jaxon—but Enkrid’s gut told him otherwise.
And the second individual?
‘Why am I thinking of him?’
For reasons he couldn’t explain, the elder brought to mind King Anu of the East. Despite their vastly different lives and stations, there was a shared quality.
“Go on, attend to your affairs.”
The saint said.
It was unnecessary to say—Enkrid had every intention of doing exactly that.
They moved through the marketplace at a relaxed pace, arriving eventually at Aitri’s workshop.
Clang! Whoosh, whoosh!
The ringing of iron on iron filled the air, paired with the intense waves of heat from the forge that hit their skin.
“I’ve arrived.”
Aitri was standing nearby while his apprentice handled the current task at the hearth.
“I assume you have news for me,” Aitri noted.
He hadn’t touched a hammer in several days, opting instead to wait for Enkrid’s arrival.
“I was fortunate. That stroke of luck is the reason I’m still breathing.”
That specific luck had diverted the path of the projectile launched by the demon at the final second. Because of that, Shinar had lived.
Had Shinar perished then—what would his reaction have been? Would he have ended his own life to reset the clock? No. Enkrid would not have taken that path.
Even if his heart had been torn asunder, even if he had been consumed by tears, he would have kept moving toward the following day.
That was the destiny Enkrid had embraced.
He would not live today twice. Regardless of the cost, he would push forward into the future.
So, while Shinar could have died, and he believed the odds were in her favor, the risk was real.
The demon had attempted to seduce him with the vision of an entire lifetime. It was likely trying to force him to give in to corruption and transform into something unrecognizable.
If Shinar had been lost to that fantasy, Enkrid would have struck her to wake her up, or restrained her by force—he would have done whatever was required to save her.
Even without the ability to repeat the day, he wouldn’t have surrendered.
That was his philosophy.
Thus, he felt simple gratitude. That blade—“Luck”—had served as a barrier against a multitude of tragic outcomes.
“It truly was a matter of fortune.”
“I’m pleased it served you well. I also received the items you forwarded.”
Enkrid had delivered all the gear and armaments recovered from the zealots to Aitri’s care.
He had only just arrived now, having spent his time honing his martial skills. Aitri also required a window of time to study and test the new materials.
The delay had been beneficial for both parties.
“Well, let’s sit.”
Aitri spoke, setting out a small table and a pair of cups.
Taking a drink of tea, Enkrid glanced toward the exterior of the forge. There was no door—only a wide opening—where the Ragged Saint could be seen wandering back and forth.
Across the path, the trees were beginning to show their first blossoms.
A spring wind drifted in, only to be pushed back by the radiating heat of the furnace.
Looking out, Enkrid offered a brief summary of what he knew. The events felt like an epic in his mind, but in the telling, they were quite concise.
Once he had heard the full account, Aitri went silent in thought before replying,
“Return in one month’s time.”
“Understood.”
There was no need for further elaboration.
Even the detail regarding the shattered silver platter didn’t cause Aitri to flinch. His apprentice never missed a beat with the hammer throughout their entire talk.
Enkrid appreciated that focus. The apprentice, it seemed, was also dedicated to his own journey.
“Where is Frokk?”
“He is away. Seeking out specific components.”
“I see.”
He would simply look for him during the next visit.
As Enkrid emerged from the shop, the Ragged Saint spoke up.
“Are you not famished? I’ve been told there is a spot nearby with exceptional seasoned dried meat.”
“There is.”
“Treat me to some.”
“Very well.”
The two immediately made their way toward the district where the jerky vendors were concentrated.
Under Kraiss’s direction, the city had been zoned so that lodging and food were on one street, while smiths and craftsmen occupied another.
At the heart of the city sat four major hostels where the public coaches made their stops.
A few krona would buy a seat on one of those. Strong donkeys were used to pull the carriages instead of horses.
The carriages were open-topped and could hold roughly ten passengers. But neither of them felt the need for a ride.
The Ragged Saint moved with surprising agility, and Enkrid—naturally—had no trouble keeping pace.
“Are you eager to see what the artisan produces?”
The saint asked during their walk, referring to Aitri.
“Yes, quite eager.”
That was the extent of their brief conversation.
Moving at a brisk clip, they soon reached the shop where the jerky was being prepared. A shop specializing in fruit preserves sat just next door.
“The scent alone is enough to stir the appetite.”
They enjoyed a hearty meal and followed it with drinks at the establishment next door.
As they moved through the city streets, several residents recognized Enkrid and greeted him.
And all the while, the saint watched everything in silence.