A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 696

Chapter 696

The firmament appeared as though it might give way at any second, though the downpour had once again ceased. It felt as if a colossus, spanning wider than a metropolis, was holding its breath with a mouth full of water, looming over the earth. After enduring days of this sullen climate, Enkrid felt a growing desire for the skies to simply open up.

He struck a piece of flint to ignite the lamp.

Click-clack—twice the sparks flew before a tiny glow took hold on the wick, illuminating the sparse quarters. The room lacked a hearth, containing only a bedside stand and a solitary cabinet for garments and supplies. It was an unpretentious space.

“You have been away for several days.”

Enkrid remarked while resting on the bedside. Three Iron remained propped in the corner, exactly where he had stationed it. He then unbuckled his oil-treated mantle. While the rain hadn’t been a deluge, the constant mist was enough to saturate one’s base layers. As he shed the garment, heavy droplets hit the floor with a dull thud, the collected dirt turning the runoff into something resembling silt.

“You have been quite active out there,” Enkrid noted, judging by Grida’s weary posture and general aura.

“Yes. Something didn’t sit right with me.”

Grida stood tall as she began to speak, hesitating for a second as if weighing her opening words. Then, she jumped straight to the point.

“You’ve heard the phrase—an exceptional tracker is a capable hunter?”

It was a common sentiment among scouts. It wasn’t exactly slang, but it suggested that those with the talent for finding trails naturally possessed the foundation for the kill. It was logical. Trackers weren’t merely travelers. However, even if a tracker made for a capable hunter, it didn’t guarantee they would reach the status of a legendary one. It was a play on words that held significant meaning in their profession.

Looking deeper, Grida’s statement was layered. Just as trackers and hunters existed in tiers of proficiency, she was suggesting that while her scouting skills made her a competent hunter, she hadn’t reached the pinnacle of that craft. The underlying logic was that ‘legendary’ stood far above ‘capable.’ She spoke this way knowing Enkrid had his own history in the scouting trade. It was a brief sentence, but it carried a heavy burden of subtext.

In essence, she was informing him that while performing her duties as a tracker, she stumbled upon something—the way a hunter would. And, buried beneath that, was the admission that she had lost the trail.

“What exactly did you find? If you’re talking about beast prints, this territory is infested with them.”

The far side of this province shared a border with the Empire. Below lay the Pen-Hanil mountain range. With three settlements nearby, it would be more shocking not to encounter monsters.

“They lack the numbers to organize a massive purge like the Border Guard.”

They could fight monsters in skirmishes, but they didn’t have the hands required for a total cleansing of the land. A knight might fell a thousand foes if they managed their stamina—but a lone knight didn’t equate to the utility of a thousand troops.

“And when dealing with beasts, slaughtering a thousand in a single day is a pipe dream.”

Monsters didn’t march in tidy lines. Killing a thousand was a myth for storybooks. Furthermore, no one in the vicinity seemed particularly motivated to attempt it.

As he contemplated this—

“It wasn’t just random beasts. I discovered tracks—unmistakable signs of an organized group.”

“A hive?”

“Tch. Sure. If you want to call it that. I spotted a few lizards skittering on all fours.”

Lizards—the very creatures that had served alongside the Scalers. They were larger, more powerful, and far more lethal than Scalers in a direct confrontation. Grida seemed to lose some of her tension. She let out a sigh and shoved her wet cloak aside with her foot.

“But that isn’t the real issue. Hives are a daily occurrence here.”

Routine. That was the reality for the people of this land. They vied with one another, trained together, and elevated their peers. They grew through hardship and maintained their drive because of their surroundings. The very terrain demanded strength. Monsters were a constant presence near Zaun’s borders. Powerful wanderers frequently arrived to challenge themselves. It was no secret, and it was a primary reason for Zaun’s hidden lethality. The proximity of monsters kept their blades sharp.

If Enkrid focused on perfecting pure form, Zaun focused on every practical step to forge knights. Neither philosophy was superior. Each followed their own conviction.

“Have you ever heard of named monsters? The ones that aren’t quite demons but have earned a reputation?” Grida asked, leaning against the edge of the small desk, her athletic frame resting against the wood.

“Unique variants?”

“Exactly. When a unique survives long enough to become a legend—that’s a named.”

Having traveled from the fringes to the southern regions, Grida knew the peril of such beings. A creature whose power exceeded its species’ limits was a “named,” or simply a “Name.” It followed the same logic as human fame: when a warrior performed great feats, their name became known. These beasts fought so effectively and lived so long that people gave them titles. The Demon Realm was often called the tomb of knights, and certain monsters there were known as knight-slayers. There were creatures in this world that broke past their natural ceilings.

“It began as a minor serpent… but it sprouted horns, started using magic—and transformed over time. I found evidence of it.”

It was a tale he recognized. A creature with a human visage and a serpentine body.

“A Lamia?”

The term for a snake-type beast that shifted into a human-like shape. Human from the waist up, serpent below. They were rumored to use charms. Though genderless, they mimicked the form of women to entrap men. However, more powerful versions existed within the Demon Realm.

Grida shook her head. “No. A Medusa.”

A creature with a nest of living serpents for hair. A single look could inflict a petrifying curse. Her eyes caught the lamp’s glow, showing no sign of terror.

Enkrid let out a soft whistle. Very few would react with such composure to the news of such a monster. Grida wasn’t taken aback by his calm either. She knew the people of Zaun would have the same outlook. If a legendary beast appeared, the standard reply would be: “Let’s go slay it.”

The complication was that they had tracked it only to lose it.

“There were traces of sorcery.”

This implied the trail had been masked by intentional magic. These were the same types of spells they had run into on their journey to this place.

“What did you mean about the patriarch acting peculiarly?”

That was the core reason Grida had come to Enkrid. She countered with her own question.

“Why do you think he is remaining idle in a crisis like this?”

Hearing this, Enkrid gave a nearly imperceptible nod. From the start of their travels until now, far too many anomalies had surfaced.

“Schmidt carried the scent of magic.”

He had loitered long after his task was finished.

“There was a hidden attacker aiming for Anne on the road.”

But since their arrival, there had been silence. Was the foe unable to reach them, or were they merely biding their time? If it was one of those two options, which was more likely? That was why Ragna refused to leave Anne’s side, even as she scouted the entirety of Zaun.

Enkrid synthesized every detail he had gathered since his arrival. Was Zaun isolated? No. Yet they claimed to be oblivious to Odinkar’s vanishing and the world beyond. It wasn’t just the patriarch.

“Scalers? Magic? Spells? This is news to me.”

That had been the response when he questioned Lynox during a training session.

“The same here,” Heskal had stated.

“This isn’t happening because the foe is a genius.”

Someone on the inside was deliberately filtering the truth. Grida had spotted this inconsistency while scouting, then happened upon the monster’s path. Zaun had set patrol loops around its exterior. One would need to know those schedules to manipulate data so effectively. Grida had already formed her verdict—and she sought out Enkrid because he understood the inner workings of Zaun. That fact alone validated her fears. Someone had plugged Zaun’s ears and veiled its eyes.

That was the only logical end point. And—

“The patriarch is aware of something.”

If one followed the breadcrumbs, it was undeniable. The logic?

“He is the master of the house. If he stays passive while things fall apart—”

Even if he wasn’t privy to every detail, several people had notified him of the strange occurrences—and he had made zero effort to investigate. Not wanting to discover the truth implied—

“He already possesses it.”

Or the situation was by design, making questions unnecessary.

“The patriarch is behaving strangely,” Grida finally whispered, her face showing genuine distress. If she were to voice her darkest theory— “Or perhaps… he is the architect of this.”

But what motive would the head of the family have? That was Enkrid’s sticking point. Actions required intent. But here, the motive was invisible. In the heavy, humid air, Enkrid blinked slowly.

“Magrun mentioned he is indisposed for medical care.”

Grida interjected, “Who informed you?”

“Millesthia.”

She was a healer in Zaun. Apparently, she didn’t even know how to handle a blade. He had never actually seen her. There were too many puzzles and too little information, and the powers involved were difficult to identify. In his years as a sellsword, Enkrid had met many “fixers.” These were specialists among mercenaries who hunted missing persons or untangled complex crimes. If a killing occurred in a town, they were the ones to call.

“This feels like a job for a fixer now.”

But even if one were nearby, unless the nobility or wealthy traders were involved, they wouldn’t meddle in a case involving knights. Regardless, someone was destabilizing the family. Grida suspected the patriarch, but she wasn’t limiting her suspicion to him alone. That was why she sought him out.

“It feels like a bad omen, Enki.”

BOOM.

The thunder growled. A flash of lightning filled the room, casting Grida’s face into sharp, flickering shadows for a heartbeat. That darkness mirrored the worry in her expression. Despite the noise, no rain fell. It had happened before. Alexandra had once called such thunder a “hollow strike”—a precursor to a true storm.

“I believe something is unfolding within the heart of Zaun.”

Grida’s words resonated with Enkrid, but he didn’t offer a nod. It was time to start digging for the truth. For now, the facts remained:

“There is a sorcerer and a caster involved.”

They had targeted Anne. Outside, beasts—including a Medusa—were assembling.

“And they employed magic to hide, meaning they are still trying to maintain cover.”

Some people make things too complex and miss the obvious. Enkrid didn’t.

“Why do you think those beasts were brought together?” he asked.

Grida tilted her head down before looking up again. “Hmm?”

“To strike, clearly.”

“Well, yes. They definitely seem like they were gathered with intent.”

“So they will strike eventually. Unless their target is the Empire.”

“They will definitely attack.”

“Then we simply slay them when the time comes.”

That was the straightforward way to deal with monsters.

“And someone is interfering with the family. But the patriarch isn’t the only person of interest, is he?”

She had been away for a time, but this was still her residence. Small shifts were normal, but the foundation shouldn’t move. She had moved to action because things that should never happen were happening. That “something,” she now believed, was internal sabotage. Enkrid saw the logic.

“…For days, I wondered if I was under a charm myself.”

That was how much she had doubted her own senses. Only three days had passed, but her resolve had hardened.

“There are five individuals who could command this level of influence over Zaun. Seven, if you include Magrun and Odinkar. But they are unavailable, and I have been gone, so they are unlikely.”

To Enkrid, she was essentially naming Odinkar and Magrun as suspects as well, despite their shared journey.

“And?” He nudged her to continue.

Grida held up her right hand, spreading five fingers.

“The patriarch and his lady. Lynox. Heskal. And Andante.”

Enkrid had met everyone on that list except for Andante. More than just meeting them, he had crossed blades with each over the last three days. Those bouts and dialogues were etched in his mind.

“That’s going to be a difficult situation,” Enkrid whispered.

“None of them can be trusted,” Grida replied. She didn’t bother to hide her internal conflict. Enkrid understood—she had every right to feel betrayed. Her conclusion meant that those raised by Zaun, the very ones who embodied its code, had turned against it. And it wasn’t just a few subordinates. It was the very heart of the lineage.