A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 738

Chapter 738

## The Urgent Exodus

“We have to abandon this place immediately.”

Though they labeled it a formal assembly, it was really nothing more than a cluster of neighbors huddled around a massive, circular wooden table, their voices rising in a discordant din. Because the settlement was so compact, every word of the argument drifted easily to Brunhilt’s ears. Consequently, Enkrid heard it all as well.

A handful of villagers who weren’t part of the debate cast wary glances toward him. There is a specific threshold where prowess stops being impressive and starts being terrifying. This was especially true for a community living in the shadows, hiding from the reach of continental law. Enkrid understood their suspicion perfectly, so he remained silent. He hadn’t been invited to the table, nor did he have any desire to sit at it.

That didn’t mean he lacked a perspective, but he knew that interjecting now would only make him a source of further stress for them.

*‘Even so, that’s the wrong approach,’* he mused privately.

The man clamoring for an immediate evacuation was a brown-haired fellow with a normally gentle disposition. Next to Harkvent, he seemed exceptionally frail of heart. He kept repeating the same panicked mantra: that staying meant certain death for everyone. One of the nearby children was already echoing his hysteria, asking the others if they were all going to perish and if death meant they’d finally see their mother again.

*‘Spreading terror serves no purpose.’*

Even if fleeing was the objective, this was the worst way to handle it. A leader should debate at length and then at least project the illusion of a planned, safe route before moving the group.

*‘If the collective panics, it’s over.’*

Once a crowd scatters in a blind fright, they are lost. Even Enkrid couldn’t protect people who ran beyond his reach.

“Silence. We recognized the strange behavior of the forest predators long ago. We have made our preparations,” an elder stepped forward to command the room.

The frightened man tried to protest, but a sharp, biting glare from Harkvent forced him into silence. Still, the man’s beard twitched with nervous energy; he seemed desperate to say anything just to vent his internal pressure.

“We’ve survived countless threats before. We’ll endure this one as well,” another villager added.

Enkrid frowned inwardly. That was equally problematic. It suggested either a dangerous lack of urgency or something worse—vague hope. Relying on blind optimism was a mistake. Praying to a deity didn’t put bread on the table. Without action, there was no progress.

“Quiet,” Harkvent barked, shutting that man down too. The rest of the council seemed devoid of actual solutions.

There were five people at the table, but it was clear at a glance that Harkvent held the most weight in the room.

—

## A Token of Gratitude

As Enkrid observed the scene, a man named Jerry approached him.

“I wanted to say thanks,” Jerry began.

“It wasn’t a problem.”

“You saved my life, and I truly have nothing of value to offer in return.”

In a standard military hierarchy, Harkvent would be the general and Jerry would be his lead scout. Of course, his “unit” was meager in number.

“At least accept this,” Jerry said, pressing a glowing blue stone into his hand. It was roughly palm-sized and felt significantly denser than a common rock. While Valerisan steel was famous for a blue tint, this object was a pure, vivid azure. As it sat in Enkrid’s palm, a faint vibration thrummed through his skin. It wasn’t exactly cold; it was refreshing.

“They appear occasionally in the mountain grottos. They’re pleasant to hold when the weather turns hot.”

It was clearly a rare find.

“Thank you,” Enkrid replied, accepting the gift.

Brunhilt, who had been hovering nearby since before Jerry arrived, nudged Enkrid’s leg. “This meeting is going to drag on. Let’s go to the back—you promised to show me how to handle a spear.”

Hearing that, several other children crowded around.

“Can I come?”
“Will you show me how to toss a blade?”

The village seemed to have as many children as adults. Despite its size, they apparently benefited from a very talented midwife. Whether in pioneer outposts or secluded hermit villages, birth was encouraged; more people meant more labor and more blades. Consequently, healers and midwives were held in the same high regard as the village chief.

“Harbehn, keep your focus on the priority,” the elder at the front called out. It turned out he was that very midwife and healer, the same man who had quieted the panicked man earlier.

A small group of kids, following Brunhilt’s lead, loitered expectantly near Enkrid.

“Why not?” he thought.

He didn’t seek out these roles, but he saw no reason to be difficult. He spent the following hours among the youth.

“How come I can’t move like her?” one boy asked, mesmerized by Brunhilt’s spear work. Enkrid gathered some sturdy limbs from the ground, whittling them into practice clubs as he answered.

“You’ll improve if you keep practicing.”

He didn’t elaborate. The truth was there was a massive, inherent chasm between that boy and Brunhilt. Would knowing the harsh reality of natural talent crush the boy’s spirit? Perhaps, but Enkrid wasn’t one for empty flattery. Regardless, the kids kept swinging their wooden clubs with enthusiasm, watched over by a few worried parents.

—

## The Request

Enkrid had finished his fifth practice club when Harkvent walked over.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“I’ll do it.”

Harkvent paused, surprised. “…You don’t even know what it is.”

“You want me to help defend this village, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

The answer was blunt, but Harkvent looked troubled. He was likely wondering what he could possibly give an outsider in exchange. In his world, kindness always had a price tag. He wondered what Enkrid’s hidden motive was.

*‘He probably instructed Jerry to give me that stone,’* Enkrid realized.

The blue stone wasn’t just a gift; it was a test of greed, a valuable lure to see how the stranger would react. To someone like Enkrid, who had survived the machinations of high-level conspirators, Harkvent’s maneuvers were incredibly transparent.

*‘Maybe I should thank the head of my house and Heskal for this perspective,’* he thought. Compared to those two, Harkvent was an amateur, like a rustic traveler who had just stepped into a capital city for the first time.

“Well then.”

Enkrid walked away with a brief nod, just as he had the day before. Even if he told them he wanted nothing but to help, they wouldn’t believe him. If they were the type of people who could trust so easily, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. Some people live their entire lives without ever experiencing a selfless act. For a leader of a hidden village, life was likely a sequence of threats rather than kindness, and theft rather than aid. A worldview forged over decades wouldn’t change because of a few sentences.

*‘Maybe Crang could have convinced them,’* he thought, remembering his friend on the throne. Crang had a way of swaying hearts with mere words.

Enkrid cleaned himself up and sought rest. The village was well-situated; a short trek through the woods led to a pristine lake. Provided the beasts stayed away, they would never lack water. Brunhilt had mentioned how fun it was to swim there in the summer heat until they were shivering.

—

## The Ferryman’s Warning

When Enkrid drifted off, he wasn’t met by a lake, but by a familiar river.

“Do you anticipate what I’m going to say?”

The ferryman today was different. He was perched cross-legged on a high-backed chair he had seemingly scavenged. A purple lantern cast an eerie glow over a face that looked like parched earth. His obsidian eyes suggested that this entire encounter was a living dread.

“They’ll claim everyone dies if I walk away,” Enkrid said.

“They will.”

“And if you’re trying to break my spirit, this is the obstacle you’ve set. But I’m telling you, there won’t be a repeat of the past.”

“You’d make a fine ferryman yourself, sitting where I am.”

“Is that meant to be praise?”

“The highest kind.”

The ferryman’s mouth twisted into a grin that looked like an endless void. He was distinct from the previous one—completely different. Following his intuition, Enkrid caught a glimpse of a hidden truth.

*‘There is more than one ferryman.’*

It was becoming obvious. Yet even with one secret exposed, many layers of the “mystery” remained.

*‘Not that I care to unravel it.’* Probing the inexplicable only led to a headache.

“You’re thinking something disrespectful, aren’t you?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“You are headed for a nightmare. You are but one man; you cannot be everywhere at once.”

The ferryman’s voice seemed to vibrate with multiple echoes. Had he picked that up from Dmyul? Enkrid let the words wash over him without sticking. A good listener knows what to discard. The ferryman realized Enkrid wasn’t truly paying attention, yet he continued anyway.

“A month, at most. You won’t be able to save them all.”

It felt like a hex, but Enkrid saw it as a rare bit of honesty.

*‘A month.’* It was a deadline, but also a window to prepare.

“Prepare for nightmares that shift their shape. They will become your own.”

The ferryman was hinting that the predators would adapt their strategies. Even if it wasn’t intended as help, Enkrid took it as such.

“Go then. Struggle in the waking world.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me to repeat the day if I want?”

Enkrid noticed the ferryman had missed his usual closing line. Wasn’t the whole point that he could choose to relive a satisfying day?

“…I was going to save that for next time,” the ferryman muttered.

Enkrid rubbed the back of his neck, a silent apology for ruining the moment.

“Get out.”

It was strange to think of a being like the ferryman feeling embarrassed, but that was the impression Enkrid had as he woke up in the real world.

—

## Establishing Order

*‘One month, then.’* In Enkrid’s mind, that was plenty of time. He rose before the sun and stepped out into the cool air.

“I told you he’d be out at daybreak,” Brunhilt’s voice chirped like a morning bird. The other children were with her, their voices a soft chatter.

“He really is here.”
“I’m still half-asleep.”
“How do you get up so early?”
“My father didn’t sleep either.”
“My mother spent the whole night curing hides.”

These six youths were around sixteen or seventeen—the age where childhood begins to harden into adulthood. They were all eager to learn, following Brunhilt’s example.

“Do you have the sticks I made yesterday?”

“Right here.”
“I even slept holding mine because you said not to lose it.”

Enkrid scanned the group. One girl among them possessed a spark of genuine genius. Some might find such natural talent galling, but Enkrid simply respected it. Observing her unique perspective even gave him new ideas; it was refreshing.

However, business remained. The monsters were closing in, and he was only one person. If he hunted the threats, the village was vulnerable. If he stayed to guard the walls, he was trapped.

*‘Stay here. If you won’t repeat the day, I will give you a day you can never leave.’*

Was that what the ferryman would have said if Enkrid hadn’t interrupted? It sounded like something that entity would come up with. Regardless, the “nightmare” described was a shift in the rules. If the old trial trapped you in time by killing you, this new version trapped you through the weight of responsibility.

*‘Protect them to the bitter end. Do not move.’*

The spectral image of the ferryman seemed to laugh in his mind. Enkrid dismissed the thought and put a hand on Brunhilt’s shoulder.

“You want to be a better warrior, right?”

“…Yes?”

“Then try teaching these others.”

“What?”

A genius often leaps several steps ahead of everyone else. Because of that, they rarely learn how to check their footing. Enkrid knew that maintaining the right path was just as vital as the speed of the journey. It was a lesson he’d earned through blood, and one he felt Brunhilt needed.

By observing the village and fighting the beasts, he had refined his own style. He’d figured out how to synthesize five different schools and how to drill the essentials.

*‘By instructing others, you’ll see the holes in your own technique.’* Teaching was the path to true mastery.

“Really?” she asked, looking a bit miffed.

But the other kids didn’t complain. In a place this isolated, there wasn’t much to do. That’s why they swam in freezing lakes until they turned blue. To them, learning to fight was just a new game. That was likely why they’d gathered at dawn.

Children were simple. Adults, however, were not.

Enkrid walked away from the group. Waiting for him was the dark-skinned man from the south, his eyes heavy with exhaustion from sleepless nights.

“Round up everyone capable of swinging a weapon,” Enkrid commanded without preamble.

Harkvent squinted at him. “For what purpose?”

Enkrid thought of Andrew Gardner—specifically the moment he had to use force to make the man listen. Should he try to be diplomatic? He could, but time was a luxury they didn’t have. Enkrid shifted his demeanor, adopting a rougher, more aggressive edge, much like Rem.

“Shut your mouth and follow my lead, understood?”

If fear was already present, he would use it. Harkvent tightened his grip on his spear, his pride refusing to let him back down from this intimidating stranger—

*Thwack.*

A swift, low strike caught Harkvent’s thigh. He hadn’t even registered the movement, let alone prepared a defense. Agony flared instantly, and his stoic mask shattered into a grimace of pain.

“Do as I tell you.”

Persuasion was too slow. Fear was the only tool left to move them quickly. Harkvent realized in that moment that when pain is sharp enough, you can’t even find the breath to scream. He sank to the dirt, gasping.

It hurt like hell.

“Listen. Do I look like I’m asking nicely? Well? Do I?”

He didn’t need to be a perfect mimic. Harkvent was broken. The outsider had proven that the man standing next to him was far more lethal than any beast in the woods. If the monsters had filled this village with dread—

*‘Then I’ll just have to make them forget what they were afraid of in the first place.’*

That was Enkrid’s new mission.