A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 700

Chapter 700

The stillness preceding a tempest is always just that—a quiet lull until the gale arrives.
That was the current reality for Enkrid.
“There isn’t anything pressing to attend to.”
He sensed a coming shift in the air, yet no tangible threat stood before him.
While Grida appeared consumed with tasks, Enkrid saw no point in prying into every corner of the settlement.
Consequently, he spent the duration of the day practicing his swordplay.
He had maintained this habit during his tenure with the Border Guard, but in Zaun, his intensity only increased. This environment was well-suited for such single-mindedness.
No one looked at him with judgment. Instead, they were impressed by the dedication of a foreigner, often choosing to observe and share in the rhythm of his training.
The techniques Enkrid demonstrated were fresh to them—a sufficient reason for their fascination.
The people of Zaun were perpetually hungry for unfamiliar martial arts.
“The break is finished! Prepare for combat!”
A youth bellowed those words before the sun rose, launching an assault on Enkrid while he was still loosening his muscles.
And then—
“Care to lose yourself in the embrace of a true beauty?”
—came a shout from the most striking woman of the giant kin—at least by the local standards of Zaun.
Beside her, a unique, raspy cackle erupted from a veteran warrior named Lynox.
“Look, this is my territory. You didn’t think you could just keep fighting with that same ‘logical’ approach in my own backyard, did you?”
That comment came from Grida. She had been missing for a few days, only to return and act as if she hadn’t been gone—even though she had been patrolling the outskirts, convinced that something was festering within Zaun.
“Your eyes are sunken. Are you getting any rest?”
“…Sleep has been difficult lately. Perhaps it’s just the feeling of being back at the source.”
Or perhaps the mounting anxiety was grinding her down.
When a bow remains strung and pulled tight for too long, both the wood and the cord begin to fail.
People follow the same rule.
Even knights, despite being forged with more resilient spirits, remain fundamentally human.
No warrior could find true peace amidst the heavy atmosphere currently suffocating Zaun.
Well—standard individuals couldn’t. Enkrid, conversely, was sleeping soundly and maintaining his appetite. Ragna was no different.
“You claimed you were going to go find the dawn. Where exactly is it?”
Enkrid posed the question casually to Ragna, who was reclining nearby.
Ragna brushed the perspiration from his brow and shifted his gaze toward where the leader of the clan might reside.
Predictably, he was staring in the wrong direction—toward the path that exited Zaun.
“…I see.”
Ragna hesitated, weighing his words with care. That was a shift in his character.
During the initial days of the Mad Squad, the chaotic precursor to the Border Guard, he had always spoken without a filter.
Now, he was contemplative. That change resonated with Enkrid.
As Ragna trailed off, a nearby boy muttered to himself,
“The tension in my muscles is perfect. This feels right. Truly right.”
Throughout his sessions of instruction and dueling, Enkrid had introduced them to the physical regimen of the Audin-style.
Several of the Zaun youths had taken to it immediately—this boy being a prime example of its efficacy.
He grumbled under his breath while hoisting a massive stone, causing the sinews in his back to ripple. His frame was already sturdy, allowing him to increase the load with impressive speed.
Zaun possessed its own traditional drills, which Enkrid had studied with interest. However, for developing raw physical power, nothing rivaled the methods of Audin.
Audin had distilled and reconstructed the training of a divine combatant from the Holy City of Legion, adding logical frameworks specifically for Enkrid.
It served as a monument to Audin’s brilliance.
If he were present, he would likely be glowing with satisfaction.
“Outstanding effort, kin! Have I remarked that your power eclipses most men!”
He would likely have roared that for all to hear.
These youngsters had adjusted to Audin’s grueling routine with surprising ease.
Driven by fierce ambition and a desire to outdo one another, they pushed their limits whenever a comrade showed progress—it was inevitable that their proficiency would soar.
After observing the scene, Ragna finally found his voice.
“I thought there was an emergency. But… I just don’t perceive it.”
“Why is that?”
Enkrid inquired, unable to pinpoint the cause himself. Ragna seemed equally uncertain of his own intuition. He was wandering in his mind once more.
“I’m asking myself the same thing.”
He spoke with a flat tone, but Enkrid could sense a hidden layer of annoyance—or perhaps a slow-burning rage—underneath.
Without further elaboration, Ragna resumed his sword swings. Enkrid followed suit.
Nearby, Anne was constantly occupied with various items—never staying idle for a moment.
Enkrid stole glances at her occasionally.
“Did you harvest this toxin from a cadaver? Or did you keep the victim breathing while you drew it out? That’s it, isn’t it?”
She would ask such things abruptly.
“Correct.”
Enkrid would simply agree, even without full understanding. Anne’s intensity demanded a confirmation.
She had dragged a table to a corner of the training grounds, where she sat mixing solutions and decanting liquids, her hands protected by green-tinted hide gloves.
From behind, she looked small, yet her entire posture throbbed with a singular, focused intent.
The weight of her concentration was palpable. Enkrid’s keen senses could feel the literal pressure of her resolve.
“That is Will.”
It was clear that Anne, too, was a prodigy. The realization was unavoidable.
“This is a small hurdle.”
Anne whispered, lost in her work. She seemed unaware that Enkrid was even there.
“I am capable of this. I will dismantle this curse.”
She continued her quiet incantations.
Had anyone looked into her eyes at that moment, they would have seen a frantic blaze.
“How long has she been in that state?”
Enkrid asked Ragna, who remained stationed near their living quarters.
“Ever since we arrived. She hasn’t paused.”
Ragna practiced in her vicinity and rarely strayed from her side.
Enkrid gave a short nod and turned to depart.
In that moment, Ragna spoke—
“She mentioned that she has feelings for me.”
“…Rem?”
“If you utter something that repulsive again, even in jest, I will remove your tongue.”
“My mistake.”
“It was Anne.”
Enkrid thought back to the Anne he had known during their time with the Border Guard.
She had been a constant fixture at the training fields, always claiming she was overwhelmed with work yet never failing to appear.
She provided meals. Water. Occasionally tonics for exhaustion.
Though Ragna was always the first to consume whatever she brought.
Regardless of her tasks, she was always gravitating toward Ragna.
Kraiss had seen it. Enkrid had seen it. Even Rem had been aware.
Anne harbored deep affection for Ragna.
Yet Ragna had been entirely oblivious.
The man was incapable of finding a clear direction in life—and equally incapable of reading human emotion.
“Reflecting on it now… I think I felt the same way.”
Ragna spoke softly—just loud enough for Enkrid to catch.
He was confessing that the sentiment was mutual. However, he expressed it with zero romantic flair.
“Don’t think I’m asking you to repeat that to her.”
“I am just acknowledging it.”
Perhaps he simply needed the truth to exist outside of his own head. Ragna’s motivations were uncomplicated.
He didn’t know the exact reason, but the desire to chase the sunrise had vanished. Perhaps that was why his heart felt heavy. Or perhaps his condition was taking a turn for the worse.
The previous night, he had coughed up blood in his sleep. He had been stable during the journey here.
Is the conclusion drawing near?
It seemed likely.
That would certainly explain the current atmosphere.
A shroud of uncertainty had fallen over his spirit. Because of that, he sought clarity on a different matter.
“But I am not saying I intend to get any closer to her.”
He added in a low voice,
“Not unless things change.”
Enkrid nodded slowly.
“Understood.”
He admits his love—then declares he will keep his distance.
Typical. The ramblings of a fractured mind. The logic of a madman.
There was no point in trying to find the sense in it.
Since their days in the original Mad Squad, Enkrid had abandoned the effort to decipher Ragna’s internal world—or anyone else’s, for that matter.
He simply walked back out and resumed his training.
Massive, obsidian storm clouds gathered above like a solid wall. It appeared as though a black stone ceiling had been suspended over the world.
Could that really be a cloud? Impossible.
That’s what many would think.
But Enkrid remained steady. While he preferred the sun, he wasn’t one to lament the weather.
He did the only thing he knew—he swung his blade.
And so he continued.
The Ferryman had not made another appearance, yet his command lingered in Enkrid’s mind.
Keep Anne safe.
Enkrid had kept the Ferryman’s identity a secret. He simply relayed the instruction to Ragna.
Something might threaten Anne—so stay vigilant.
They had already fought off creatures hunting her on the road. Ragna didn’t press for details. He simply did as he was told.
The period of feigning a normal life had concluded.
During those hours, Enkrid slipped into deep contemplation.
Who had fractured the peace of the family?
A hidden hand was pulling the strings. That fact remained constant. And now, it appeared someone was weaponizing chaos.
Enkrid noted these thoughts—but he didn’t hunt for a solution.
He wasn’t interested in being a sleuth. Even as more information surfaced, his position remained the same.
“Does the clan leader truly intend to remain passive?”
He had overheard Heskal asking this after his return from the veterans’ settlement.
Lynox had also requested a private audience with the leader to voice his concerns. Yet, the status quo held.
Heskal, while spending time with Enkrid, remarked at one point—
“Sigh… if only our leader possessed more conviction.”
They were in the middle of a session, but Heskal was distracted. His strikes were weak. Enkrid adjusted his grip on Three Iron and responded,
“You’re suggesting he should agree to the terms Schmidt proposed?”
“It would be a viable path. The Empire offers a wide safety net, after all.”
Hollow words. A surface-level sentiment. That was how it rang to Enkrid.
Enkrid couldn’t read the clan head’s intentions. But he could see exactly what Heskal desired.
His gaze was brimming with fantasies and longing.
“May I ask what your ultimate goal is?”
Heskal’s eyes shone with a mixture of optimism and greed.
“I’ll share that with you when the time is right.”
He gave a small smile.
From that look, Enkrid knew the dream was a difficult one to achieve.
But he also recognized—Heskal would not turn back.
It was an instinctive recognition between two people of a similar drive.
“Blast it. There isn’t a single sign of Odinkar.”
Grida spent several days scouring every inch of Zaun.
Magrun was missing. Odinkar was nowhere to be found. She was visibly agitated.
One evening, a veteran named Millestchia arrived to visit Anne. She was the primary medic for Zaun.
“What exactly are you working on?”
Upon hearing the details of Anne’s investigation, the old woman’s eyes lit up. She seemed invigorated—stating that there was a real chance of success.
She offered a brief greeting to Enkrid as she passed.
Then, at a specific dawn, Enkrid was jolted awake—not of his own volition.
BOOM-CRACK!
A massive lightning strike erupted, the sound vibrating in his very skull.
KRAAAA-KOOM!
Before the echoes of the thunder faded, a deluge of rain struck the earth. Enkrid rose and peered through the pane to see rain falling with the force of iron rods.
He briefly wondered if the soil could withstand the impact.
“Enkrid of the Border Guard.”
Then—a voice called to him from the storm.
An unexpected visitor for such an hour.
Enkrid stood and immediately inspected his equipment.
Three Iron. Penna. A short blade. A dagger with a horn grip. Arm wraps. The enchanted undergarment. Leather protection for his chest and shoulders.
“The silk layer is useless today.”
The downpour would saturate it, making it a heavy burden. He knew this through harsh lessons. His reflexes took over.
A full kit wasn’t strictly necessary for a conversation—but he equipped it all the same.
Only after he was fully prepared did he open the door, maintaining his composure.
The clan head stood there—drenched to the skin.
He spoke.
“Accompany me. Millestchia has been killed.”
Enkrid had no context for the statement. Yet the clan head’s expression suggested he had come to find a culprit.
“Shouldn’t I be the one demanding an explanation from you?”
Enkrid responded with a level voice. Water cascaded off the clan head’s frame. His tone remained devoid of warmth.
“Follow. Now.”
Snap.
The adjacent door swung wide. It was Ragna.
“Who do you think you’re pointing fingers at?”
In the shadows of the corridor, the candle’s light wavered—and Ragna’s silhouette grew massive against the wall.