A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 735

Chapter 735

A canopy woven from interlaced branches, withered foliage, and fragments of hide shielded the shallow pit dwelling. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the interior, illuminating only a fraction of the space. It was clear that in areas where the roofing was more substantial, the interior remained shrouded in total darkness even at midday. Since humans require light to thrive, it was obvious the inhabitants didn’t spend their entire lives confined beneath the earth.

The architecture was peculiar. The interior featured various chambers carved out like the intricate tunnels of an ant colony—recessed hollows designed for concealment. Harkventyo hadn’t bothered to offer any explanations, but Enkrid absorbed these details through silent observation. His mastery of Lua Gharne-style tactical swordsmanship made him instinctively sensitive to his surroundings. Even if a confrontation were to ignite with the man standing before him, Enkrid knew a simple flick of his wrist would settle the matter. However, he refused to be complacent in his reconnaissance. He was reminded of an ancient proverb: “The sharpest blade to fell a knight is his own negligence.”

“A burrow tailored for hiding,” he mused. This place wasn’t constructed for warfare, but for raw survival. Within the sunken room, piles of herbs were spread across the floor to dry, though they had shriveled from being left out far too long. Hand-molded earthenware sat on one side, coated in a layer of dust yet organized with care. A roughly hewn wooden table occupied a corner, and there was a bed—though Enkrid was certain it wasn’t stuffed with high-grade straw, a fact he’d bet Kraiss’s daily wages on.

“We have little to provide. This is a place of poverty,” Harkventyo remarked. Enkrid caught the flicker of distrust and anxiety in the man’s gaze, yet he didn’t receive an order to depart. Instead, the man filled a clay cup with water and set it on the table. The liquid was transparent and refreshing.

“They have been here for a significant time,” Enkrid concluded, judging by the layout. This wasn’t a mere campsite; they had likely occupied this spot for years. Evidences of hard-won survival skills were everywhere—the strategic use of Nightmare Berries and the various half-finished traps scattered about. The air was thick with the scent of cured leather, botanicals, and a sharp, unfamiliar musk. Survival required food, clothing, and shelter.

“They hunt and gather for sustenance,” Enkrid noted. Though he saw no looms for weaving, their attire was in good repair. He surmised that a specific traveling merchant must service this hidden village exclusively. He had encountered such peddlers before—those who made a living by trading solely with isolated hermit communities.

Harkventyo let out a heavy sigh, his every movement weighed down by exhaustion. Stress was etched deeply into his features. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he finally asked, “Are you a traveler from the South?”

Enkrid sensed the underlying meaning but kept his tone neutral. “I am merely passing through.”

Despite the summer season, the mountain air turned biting in the early and late hours. Even now, in the peak of the day, the subterranean home felt cramped and humid. Beads of sweat formed on Harkventyo’s brow—the combined result of the warmth and the grinding pressure of his nerves. He took another long breath, this one carrying a sense of relief.

“I thought as much. If you were an agent of the South, we wouldn’t be having a conversation.”

In short, these people were refugees from the Southern territories. Harkventyo acted as their leader, essentially the head of the village. Such secluded hamlets were frequently settled by those who had defied the law or escaped the cruelty of tyrants. Fleeing to a major city didn’t always mean safety from those in pursuit, and not everyone possessed the wit to vanish into a crowd. Consequently, some preferred to live among predators and monsters rather than thieves.

Harkventyo tugged at his golden beard, a clear nervous tic. “We managed well enough until the beasts became so violent.” Weariness hung heavy on him. Among the fifty or so residents, half were composed of the elderly, women, and children. They hadn’t survived through strength alone.

“Pits and poisons,” Enkrid observed. It seemed their strategy relied on baiting the beasts into camouflaged holes to finish them off. It was a primitive method. Against standard animals, it likely sufficed. But Enkrid considered the beasts he had recently encountered—creatures that used distractions and coordinated their strikes. If they lured them toward these dugout homes, how many would actually tumble in? Most would never follow deep enough to be trapped. They possessed traps and venom, but it wasn’t enough.

“Left to their own devices, they are doomed,” Enkrid realized. He didn’t need a sixth sense to know this. Recalling the leopard-beast that had tracked him from a distance made the outcome certain. Their odds of survival were nonexistent. They had originally settled on the boundary between the domains of monsters and beasts, but the beasts had recently pushed past that frontier.

“The pack must have eradicated the monsters,” Enkrid reasoned. The evidence pointed to it. It was a rare occurrence, but possible.

“You can tell the men with the clubs outside to stand down,” Enkrid said. “Even if you collapse this entire structure on me, I won’t die.”

“…My apologies. Everyone is on edge,” Harkventyo replied. The home Enkrid had been “invited” into bore the marks of habitation, yet it was dusty enough to suggest it was often used as a lure or a trap. Enkrid didn’t hold it against them. No one living in secret would ever truly welcome a stranger.

During their talk, Enkrid asked a few casual questions. When he inquired why they chose such a perilous location, Harkventyo explained that a valuable, rare herb grew nearby. As Enkrid guessed, a shrewd merchant had discovered them and established a trade route. Their ambition was to accumulate enough gold to hire a mercenary company and eventually found a legitimate frontier settlement. It was a gutsy dream, one he felt was worth supporting.

“Do you intend to stay for a few days?” Harkventyo asked. He had lived a life where asking for help felt foreign. Slavery remained a scourge in the South, and he had been born into that system. He had lost his parents before making his escape. Many of the other villagers had faced a similar fate after their lands were confiscated. It was a small wonder they had made it this far and built a life for themselves. Their struggles were likely enough to fill many books.

Enkrid didn’t need to hear the specifics to grasp the weight of their journey. Even after he had fended off the beasts, there was no celebration. A few people looked relieved, but the majority remained skeptical and cautious. It made sense; they had fought for every inch of their existence. Relying on others was a concept they didn’t understand.

“I’ll stay,” Enkrid answered firmly.

“It isn’t much,” Harkventyo added with a hint of shame.

But Enkrid already understood. The layout of this village and the spirit of the people reminded him of his own origins. The place where he was raised was identical to this. This environment felt like home.

—

The dugout originally intended to trap him became Enkrid’s quarters. Perhaps because of his display against the beasts, a few local children began to linger nearby, their eyes wide with wonder. One girl, her face smeared with soot, walked right up to him.

“How powerful are you, sir?”

Her name was Brunhilt. Enkrid noted that if she were washed, her complexion would be quite fair. With her large eyes and long limbs, she had the making of a striking woman. Enkrid was resting on a makeshift stool at the edge of the hamlet, enjoying the sun. To an outsider, he was merely basking; internally, he was mentally practicing his forms. He didn’t find the girl’s presence annoying.

“Very,” he replied. Vague questions rarely have simple answers, so he matched her tone.

“Can you defeat my father?”

She referred to Harkventyo as her father. There were over half a dozen children who did the same, despite the absence of a wife. It was easy to infer they weren’t his biological offspring. Harkventyo was a burly, powerful man. He had enough raw potential to earn a living as a mercenary on the continent, yet he remained here. Whether it was out of a sense of mission or simple duty, Enkrid couldn’t say.

As for the girl’s question, Enkrid knew he could fight a thousand men like Harkventyo and emerge unscathed. His response, however, was succinct. “Yes.”

“Wow, you must be incredible.” A child’s perspective is narrow, particularly for one raised in a cluster of thirty small huts. Enkrid looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect a reward, nor had he planned on being generous. It was a momentary impulse—a way to soothe his own restless thoughts.

“Do you train with the spear?”

She was holding a primitive staff bound with monster tendons and tipped with a jagged piece of metal. Regardless of its quality, it functioned as a spear.

“Yes!” her eyes flashed with excitement. She seemed to be losing her wariness. His original intent was to follow the beasts and wipe them out, but none had appeared for hours. It was now the morning of his second day. He was contemplating widening his patrol, so a brief diversion was welcome.

“Did anyone show you how to use that?”

“No one teaches me. But I’ve figured it out on my own.” That kind of bold confidence usually earns a smile from an adult, but in this grim village, few people had the spirit left to smile at a child. She was at an age where she craved validation and care. Could a moment of kindness or a bit of coaching give her something lasting? He wasn’t sure. He was simply in the mood to try.

“Look at this!” Brunhilt grasped her makeshift spear with both hands. Her grip was non-traditional. Rather than spacing her hands along the wood, she held them tight together at the base, letting the metal tip rest on the dirt. “You can parry this, right?”

“Go ahead and try.”

Enkrid felt that a bit of encouragement would be good for her. Even a single wild dog beast would be a lethal threat to her currently. Brunhilt pivoted her torso, dragging the spear behind her like a whip. Enkrid’s eyes sharpened. She rotated her hips, building tension in the shaft like a coiled spring, and then snapped the tip forward with high accuracy. She was targeting his midsection perfectly.

It was impressive. To compensate for her lack of strength, she used her entire body weight and centrifugal force. Given her small frame and poor equipment, it was the most effective strike she could possibly deliver. The slight tremor in the spear came from her being underweight and lacking muscle, yet she even utilized that vibration to her advantage.

*Tap.*

Enkrid caught the wooden shaft just beneath the metal head. Even if her power were increased tenfold, she wouldn’t have been able to touch him.

“Whoa! You stopped it with just one hand!” Her excitement grew. She had watched Harkventyo train, but in terms of pure technical instinct, she was already beyond him.

“She has a natural gift,” Enkrid realized. Without any formal instruction, she had mastered the mechanics of the weapon. Without sparring or combat experience, she possessed a natural sense of range. She understood the flow of her own body and the momentum of the shaft.

“Brunhilt, you are a genius.” He spoke the words without thinking—words that had once been directed at him. The memory brought back the weight of the expectations and trials those words had caused. He quickly amended his statement. “Actually… don’t let that go to your head.”

It had been a purely instinctive reaction; her potential had genuinely startled him.

“Really? No one has ever told me that.”

“No?”

“Never.”

It was unlikely anyone in this struggling village had the mental energy to notice a child’s progress. And a realization struck him: swordsmanship is an art practiced by people. The essence of any weapon lies in the technique. Even if she didn’t use a blade, teaching her the fundamentals of the spear wouldn’t be difficult. Perhaps he would show her a few things. Just a little.