A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 728

Chapter 728

Following his exchange with the incoming crowd, he feasted and enjoyed a deep recovery.
Even as several days drifted by in a similar fashion, a steady stream of visitors arrived, and the essence of their messages tended to follow a pattern.
“Training as a group is incredible—isn’t there any way you could just settle here in Zaun?”
A few made no effort to hide their fondness.
“I am grateful. And… I realize I should offer an apology as well.”
Others adopted a more solemn tone.
the first group consisted of the younger generation. The second was comprised of those with more years behind them.
Furthermore, both parties were entirely earnest in their conduct and their speech.
Consequently, those who wished for him to stay continued to nag him, constantly pressing for the reasons behind his departure.
Meanwhile, those expressing gratitude and regret lowered their heads, stating that while they were not bound as slaves, they would answer his call should he ever require their strength.
A few even confessed to a sense of inadequacy.
“Could I ever truly serve as a replacement for Riley?”
There were some who posed that question with genuine heart.
Then, there were the even more peculiar propositions.
“Since Riley claimed she would become your slave, perhaps I should simply become your wife instead.”
That suggestion originated from a lady of the Zaun family—he hadn’t even learned her name.
By all accounts, she possessed immense skill, yet her true ambition was to be a dedicated mother.
However, she mentioned that she suffered from a ‘fatal flaw.’
‘Was it that she struggled with a violent temper?’
He had picked up rumors that even within the walls of Zaun, she would thrash people whenever a disagreement arose, which was the reason all her previous relationships had collapsed.
Despite her assertions of wanting to be a virtuous mother and a supportive spouse, she had earned the moniker ‘Gallows’ for traveling across the lands and decapitating any man she found mistreating women.
He even discovered that several talented bounty hunters had pursued her all the way to Zaun—some met their end, while others settled in the hunter village.
It seemed a few of those hunters had perished during the recent chaos.
Enkrid had remained silent, yet through the constant chatter of those around him, he gathered all sorts of information.
“I’ll have to decline.”
“Tch.”
At the very least, she didn’t cling to him with the desperation of certain others.
“In the Empire, you’ll find mountains of gold.”
“In the Empire, the women are breathtaking.”
“In the Empire, the blades are legendary.”
“In the Empire, you can find the master dwarven smiths.”
“In the Empire, there are knights of terrifying power.”
“In the Empire…”
Had Schmidt always been such a chatterbox?
When they first crossed paths at the Border Guard, hadn’t he presented himself as a stoic and serious figure?
Enkrid started to question if he had merely polished his recollection of the man over time.
Naturally, that wasn’t the case.
Schmidt was a masterful recruiter—he was merely performing his duties to the absolute best of his ability.
“Does that fellow show up every single day?”
Ragna voiced that thought, and it gave Enkrid the reassurance that his memory wasn’t playing tricks on him.
“Exhausting, isn’t it? But I can’t exactly pack up and head for the Empire this instant. Observe—I sustained this gash during the conflict.”
He had appeared perfectly healthy while obsessing over the Golden Tome, but it later came to light that he had suffered a significant wound just above his thigh.
“A fraction higher and, well, that would have been it.”
He would have been stripped of his masculinity permanently.
Schmidt gave a shake of his head and remarked,
“At least being pierced by the talon of a demon beast in that spot gives me a legitimate excuse.”
“What kind of excuse?”
Ragna inquired. Enkrid already grasped the implication, so he kept his peace.
“The Empire might see fit to grant me a decoration, viewing me as a hero of the war. I’ll be established as a man of national merit.”
Even though his combat wasn’t technically for the Empire’s sake, he still held that expectation.
Why?
Because a recruiter’s work is, by its very nature, for the benefit of the Empire, or so he claimed.
There is likely a volume titled Tales of the Omnipotent Empire that he has committed to memory.
And there was an individual who visited even more frequently than Schmidt. The face Enkrid encountered first every single morning.
“Are you awake?”
“…Why do you come every day?”
“To express my thanks. For preserving Zaun.”
A low bow.
The head of the family appeared every morning throughout the training sessions, lowered his head in respect, and then departed.
This was despite the fact that he was still in the midst of healing and clearly found it difficult to maintain a steady path while walking.
And the morning visit wasn’t the conclusion of it.
He would return when the sun reached its zenith—right as the midday meal was concluding.
“Have you eaten?”
“You’ve only lost sight in one eye, haven’t you? Why ask when you can clearly see the plates are empty?”
The leader of Zaun had indeed lost the use of one eye.
But as the other remained functional, he could surely perceive that the meal had ended.
“Thank you for the salvation of Zaun.”
Once more, he bowed his head.
If that had been the extent of it, it might have been manageable—but Enkrid was forced to encounter him again before retiring for the night.
“Still up?”
“Can’t you see that I am?”
“If you hadn’t intervened, Zaun would have suffered a great loss of life.”
“Heskal is the one who truly deserves the credit.”
“I haven’t overlooked his part. Regardless, thank you for saving Zaun.”
“My ears are going to develop calluses from hearing this.”
The family head visited at dawn, midday, and dusk for three consecutive days.
Even though he had been told he could no longer handle a blade as he once did—and should have been mired in the bitterness of that loss—he never failed to seek out Enkrid, his body often slick with the sweat of his exertions.
“Ragna.”
“Yes?”
“What is the matter with your father?”
Enkrid posed the question, though he already suspected the truth.
Still, there was no harm in asking.
Perhaps Ragna would provide a perspective he hadn’t considered.
Ragna recalled a long-standing trait of her father’s, a detail that had momentarily slipped her mind.
Tempest Zaun had always moved and spoken with absolute sincerity since her childhood.
Since he lacked the ability to convey deep emotion through his tone or vocabulary, he demonstrated his honesty through the repetition of his message.
“He is simply profoundly thankful.”
“Yes, I gathered as much.”
But even so, wasn’t this a bit excessive?
Thus, Enkrid remained in Zaun for a slightly longer period.
“Grant me one more week. I still have matters to resolve.”
Anne had made that request, and Enkrid himself found the duration of the stay quite pleasant. It was a period of genuine enjoyment.
“They say the teacher learns the most.”
He had undergone a few similar moments in the past, and here in Zaun, he was in the company of highly capable individuals.
And they took sincere pleasure in receiving instruction from Enkrid.
The arrangement was ideal—it provided growth for everyone involved.
“There is no one in all of Zaun who clarifies things quite like Enki.”
There was even a young child who kept pressing their forehead to the dirt, attempting to build a bond with him in a friendly manner.
“Your explanations are so vivid. How about we meet tonight?”
There was also a massive individual who constantly tried to claim the spot right beside Enkrid’s sleeping mat.
He discovered later that Anaheira had a penchant for that kind of humor.
Nevertheless, it carried a tone of partial seriousness—though that might have just been his own unreliable intuition speaking.
“If Anaheira decides she wants to travel with you, would you allow it?”
Ragna asked him that on one occasion, suggesting his intuition might not be so far off after all.
“Well, that would be her decision to make.”
He saw no logical reason to refuse her.
“Shinar will be ecstatic. Esther might find it to her liking as well.”
There was a sharp edge to Ragna’s comment.
“Whatever you say.”
Enkrid shrugged off Ragna’s teasing and went back to swinging his blade.
Yet, while instructing so many, he naturally began to ponder the journey he had traveled thus far.
‘And that is a positive thing.’
The trail he had blazed.
The routes he hadn’t taken but could now perceive clearly.
The visions seen by those overflowing with raw potential.
The visions seen by those with skill but no self-belief.
He revisited and analyzed every one of them.
If you only stare at what lies ahead, you cannot see what is behind you.
Therefore, one must occasionally pause and look back—there is true wisdom in that.
Enkrid integrated that wisdom into his being.
And through it, he gained one more realization.
So during his time in Zaun, the same rhythms continued to play out, over and over. It had been that way before, and it remained that way now.
It was one of those evenings of deepening twilight. The drooping sunlight began to vanish, wrapping a supernatural radiance around his surroundings.
Personally, it was his preferred hour. The time of the dog and the wolf, as the saying goes.
It is named so because when a figure approaches from the distance, one cannot discern if it is a friendly dog or a predatory wolf.
The sky was neither fully dark nor truly bright—it glowed with a mixture of blue and gold simultaneously, and the temperature of the air was perfectly cool.
On evenings such as this, events have a way of unfolding. If a man and a woman find themselves together, they might fall into love. Perhaps a stroke of incredible luck will find them. Or perhaps, quite suddenly, a sense of deep peace will settle in their soul.
A child who was cast aside by their kin might finally break away from that shadow and discover how to stand tall on their own.
A man who had never experienced affection—who only knew how to speak in jagged, painful words—might finally wake up to the reality of love.
And if he discovers that love is not merely a prize to be taken, but something to be offered—then that man might embark on a completely new existence.
Everyone experiences at least one enchanted moment in their life. And occasionally, that solitary instant is enough to transform everything.
Even if it doesn’t shift the entire world, it might still provide the nudge needed to take a step toward a goal that seems impossible and distant.
It was during a twilight like this, saturated with magic. A multitude of hues flowed from the boundary where the orange glow met the blue.
In the distance, an insect made its rhythmic sound. And on this day, fewer visitors had sought him out than usual.
For the moment, no one else was likely to appear.
The daily greeting from the family head wouldn’t occur until much later, and Schmidt had already made his appearance during the daylight hours—so he wouldn’t be returning.
Ragna and Anne had headed toward the peaks behind the basin. They mentioned they were inspecting a cluster of herbs or perhaps some venomous flora that thrived in the wild there.
No guests. No sound other than the rhythmic chirping of the bugs.
Intoxicated by that strange light, Enkrid explored the world within himself.
Perhaps because the most prominent memory in his mind was of him—
From the heights of a massive tree nearby, Heskal dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
“Think across multiple planes. People do not exist as only a single version of themselves. If you wish to truly comprehend a person, identify what that person actually desires.”
What he had accomplished—none of it could be understood through a simple lens.
‘What Heskal truly desired was the continued existence of Zaun.’
Back at the beginning of all this, when Enkrid had questioned him about his aspirations, Heskal had merely grinned and sidestepped the inquiry. Now the reason was clear.
The Divine Seizure was nothing more than a tool.
Yes—Enkrid grasped that now.
Taking pleasure in the art of the sword and using that blade to seize what you want are two distinct concepts.
And one realization returned to him—Zaun, and the people dwelling here, are fundamentally different from him.
These individuals do not grasp their weapons to wipe out the Demon Realm or to claim some prize.
Therefore, he would not coerce them.
It was the same sentiment he felt when he first encountered Gridawa, Odinkar, and Magrun. That truth remained unchanged.
Did they owe him for their lives? Was that a justification to drag them into a life they never sought?
‘I have no desire for that.’
As that conviction took root in his heart, from the shadows between the structures lengthened by the dying sun—suddenly, Oara appeared.
The azure light of the dusk filtered through her form. Her gait was effortless, her expression radiant.
As she strolled closer, she inquired:
“Have you been faring well?”
And without waiting for his acknowledgment, she continued her speech.
“Intent-Focused Full Recovery—your intention is to master all five, isn’t it? Even for a seasoned knight, most choose a single path to focus on. But you are pursuing them all, aren’t you? You won’t cast aside a single one.”
Oara—she had left a lasting mark on him before she passed.
Now, this manifestation of her appeared and spoke many truths.
Not a single syllable was wasted. Every word was a hint toward a fresh start.
But Enkrid paid her no mind.
‘No more visions.’
The instant he solidified that resolve, Oara dissolved into nothingness.
‘I have studied. I have progressed.’
And that brought him to the here and now.
His spirit was tranquil, and his mind was sharp. This was the fruit of rest and healing.
And within that stillness, the solution revealed itself.
Move beyond mere study and comprehension.
His gut told him—this was the moment.
In other words, it was time to organize and construct.
He had observed and experienced so much up to this point. He pulled one element out to serve as his first stone.
‘Wave-Blocking Sword is a component of the Sword of Balance.’
He had learned its core principles from Ragna.
What Ragna accomplished through sheer instinct and raw gift—he could duplicate through meticulous calculation.
The Sword of Balance is refined through the practice of the Wave-Blocking Sword.
What Enkrid was engaged in now was defining the training regimen for every individual sword style.
His meditations continued, and the enchantment of the twilight had not yet faded, so Enkrid moved freely within his mind.
He soared, he sprinted, he glided through water.
The twilight radiance transformed into the heavens, into a great lake, into the very earth.
‘The Heavy Sword is centered on physical reinforcement.’
From the combat arts of Balaph, he had mastered the art of closing the gap and channeling his entire strength into a solitary impact.
It followed naturally.
There are few opponents who will permit someone fighting with empty hands to keep stepping back indefinitely.
To this foundation, he fused the technique of “Explosion of the Dot,” a skill of pure will belonging to the family head. And he had gained the knowledge from Alexandra on how to ignite that willpower.
Thus, he would construct a swordsmanship based upon that.
The Heavy Sword is an act of detonation.
He didn’t require a finished sword style this very second.
Simply setting the foundation stones was sufficient—there was no need to delve any deeper for now.
‘Deception is rooted in the Rua-Garne tactical philosophy.’
To that, he would incorporate the techniques from Balen-style mercenary combat.
Tactics are centered on capturing a superior position.
And Illusion Sword was more than just the movement of a blade. It was effectively a strategic framework.
Rapid strikes are born from streamlined mental processes.
‘That particular lesson I gained from Rem.’
Rem possessed the ability to perceive and swing his axe even within the smallest of windows.
Of course, he did so purely by instinct.
Enkrid achieved it through the refinement of thought known as “flash.”
In terms of raw speed, Rem stood above the rest.
And at last, the Flowing Sword.
‘The Sword of Fortune utilizes every passing instant.’
To achieve that, one requires heightened awareness and the capacity to exploit every circumstance.
The Flowing Sword, from its inception, was entirely about the focus of the senses.
You cannot calculate every point of contact to deflect a strike.
Instead, your ears must pick up the sound, and your skin must sense the shifting air.
‘Gate of the Sixth Sense—Sensory Perception.’
No matter the title you give it, the essence is identical.
You must achieve mastery over sensory technique.
It is an impossible feat without a specialized sensitivity.
To that, you layer experience.
A thousand struggles, etched into your very flesh.
Even a prodigy cannot attain the Flowing Sword if they lack the years.
The Sword of Fortune is the absolute pinnacle of that Flowing Sword.
Hone your perceptions, and pull every fleeting moment toward your own favor.
That is the goal of the Flowing Sword.
The logic was established, and it all sat upon a firm base.
The twilight had long since vanished.
In fact, the entire night had slipped away.
“Did you find rest?”
As he did every other morning, the head of the house drew near and asked.
Enkrid, who had remained standing throughout the night, replied:
“Indeed, I rested very well.”
This was a trail he was blazing on his own—not a lesson handed down to him.
He would be dishonest if he claimed he felt no joy.
“Thank you for saving Zaun.”
The family head, once again, provided his standard line.
And Enkrid merely offered a smile.
In many ways, this simple, unyielding honesty felt like the true heart of Zaun.
And that afternoon, a fresh face arrived.
It was precisely the time Anne had predicted. In other words, the moment he was considering his departure—and the point when Ragna had been missing for two full days.