A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 760

Chapter 760

Enkrid shifted his gaze toward Roman.

He wondered why someone of Roman’s caliber had been struggling in this place, allowing himself to be toyed with by a mere parasite. The answer was clear: there was currently no imminent danger threatening Oara. Because the city was stable, Roman had felt he could afford to leave his station. Oara was the great inheritance of Knight Oara himself; had Roman abandoned it during a crisis, Enkrid would have decapitated him without hesitation.

However, Roman was no idiot. His presence here confirmed that Oara was secure. This led to a vital realization: the influence of the Demon Realm had been purged from Oara, and the lingering rot of the Gray Forest had likely been incinerated. With the threat gone, there was no longer a strategic need to keep such a massive, specialized military force concentrated there.

Enkrid reached a swift conclusion. It was now feasible to relocate a portion of Oara’s martial strength to this location. Doing so would allow them to defend this territory and foster its independence. Oara was a settlement of warriors; even the training regimens of the Border Guard’s regular forces were based on Oara’s martial traditions. It was a fortress by design, once known by the name Thousand Brick.

Enkrid considered the possibility of replicating that defensive architecture here to create a second Thousand Brick. While stone walls do not rise in a single night, modern engineering had progressed significantly. If the Kingdom of Naurillia provided logistical backing, the project might be completed in under a year. If they prioritized the primary defensive perimeter, six months might even suffice.

A new bastion would rise, standing tall against the Demon Realm. It would signal the birth of a fortified city and a formal expansion of the realm’s borders. Since the local monsters and predators had already been wiped out in a flurry of violence, the usual prerequisite of clearing the land was already finished. Furthermore, by diverting a segment of the western trade traffic through this point, they could establish a fresh commercial artery and grow the local economy.

Ultimately, this land would be reclaimed for humanity, ceasing to be a dark corner of the Demon Realm. This vision had formed the moment Enkrid first encountered the people living within the corrupted zone.

“You truly had this entire vision mapped out?” Rem asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

“I’ll let Kraiss handle the logistics and the finer details. He’s capable of managing the execution,” Enkrid replied. In the interim, the reinforcements from Oara would provide security, sparing the kingdom’s central military from the burden.

“I honestly can’t tell what goes on in your brain sometimes, Captain,” Audin noted with a look of awe.

Had Enkrid lacked his prowess with a blade, he still would have risen to prominence through his intellect. Yet, for Enkrid, this wasn’t the product of grueling meditation. The path forward simply manifested the moment he committed to protecting these people. Perhaps his experience reliving a single day countless times had gifted him an instinct for identifying the most efficient course of action.

Enkrid wondered silently if he should feel some level of appreciation for the Ferryman. But this was reality, not a vision, and no answer came from the void. He looked up at the sky. They had been here for several days now, performing what amounted to a massive, loud invitation to combat.

‘He hasn’t arrived.’

The Balrog had not yet appeared. Enkrid surmised that his own presence wasn’t yet provocative enough to draw the beast out. To fix that, he needed to ignite a metaphorical fire so bright the entire region would see it—something that would catch the attention of even the most distant demons. He needed to generate rumors so loud that even the monsters would whisper his name in fear.

Enkrid looked toward the horizon. There was no visible boundary, but he was staring into the deep heart of the Demon Realm. He recalled what was rumored to lie within those depths.

“The Demon Realm possesses its own versions of forward operating bases, much like we do,” Zoraslav had once remarked during a past conversation.

The memory made Enkrid’s pulse quicken with excitement. If the Gray Forest near Oara was a mere pond, the territory ahead was a vast, dark ocean. This unknown, pitch-black expanse was calling to him. This was merely one fracture in the southern theater, a gap left because the defensive lines were too overstretched to cover everything. Even the most stunning woman in the world couldn’t make his heart race the way the prospect of this hunt did.

“What’s with that smirk?” Rem asked, observing him.

“This looks like it’s going to be fun.”

“Hah. You’re definitely planning something reckless again,” she sighed.

Enkrid met her eyes. He suspected her internal excitement mirrored his own. “Are you coming with me?”

“Obviously,” she answered without a second of hesitation.

—

“It was a wise choice to avoid a confrontation,” the Mayor of the trade city remarked to the mercenary captain.

Initially, he had felt a twinge of anxiety when he realized the group was moving away from the city, but that feeling had quickly evaporated. “Regardless, we have to track their destination. Use every contact we have in the information guilds.”

Enkrid and his Mad Order of Knights were a source of terror even for the continent’s most established intelligence networks. In the past, various assassination syndicates had tried to collect bounties on them, only to be utterly dismantled. It wasn’t just that the hit squads died; the entire infrastructure of the guilds that sent them was razed to the ground. Since information brokers often moonlighted in the killing trade, they lived in fear of the Mad Order.

After the remnants of the notorious Geor Dagger were found slaughtered at one of the failed ambush sites, nobody in the Central Continent was brave enough to take a contract on them anymore. Infiltrating their ranks with spies was equally impossible. Fortunately, the knights didn’t bother hiding their tracks. Even better, the Gilpin Guild held a monopoly on high-quality intelligence regarding their movements. It was incredibly expensive, but the trade city was wealthy enough to pay the price.

Through these reports, the Mayor learned that the Mad Order of Knights had marched to the very threshold of the Demon Realm and purged every creature in their path.

“I told you. Just give up. If we had tried to fight them, I would have handed in my resignation on the spot,” the mercenary captain said.

It was a frustrating thing to hear from a warrior known as “the Indomitable,” yet the Mayor couldn’t help but feel a spark of ambition. If he could only bring that knightly order under his own banner, his city could easily become its own sovereign nation. He caught himself and scoffed at the thought. He didn’t actually want to be a king. He just wanted security for his people. He had watched many ambitious men die young while he focused on survival.

“I was a street peddler at seventeen. Almost everyone I knew back then is dead. I survived by staying behind the gamblers, watching the idiots burn their lives away, and outlasting them. I know how to read people, and I know how to cut out traitors. That’s why I’m still here.”

“…Where is this coming from all of a sudden?” the mercenary captain asked. In private, they were like old friends, and he was used to the Mayor’s drunken ramblings.

“I’m telling you, my instincts are screaming. Now is the time to keep our heads down. The one who survives the longest is the real winner.”

The mercenary captain couldn’t argue with that logic; it was why he had suggested cooperation in the first place. “So, are you moving forward with the deal with the Border Guard?”

“I have to,” the Mayor replied.

It wasn’t a formal contract so much as a mutual defense pact. They wouldn’t send troops immediately, but they promised support if a crisis arose. The deal had been brokered by a man named Kraiss. The Mayor wondered what Lord Greyham was up to that he couldn’t negotiate personally. In the past, Greyham was someone they could manipulate, but Kraiss was different. The power dynamic had flipped. Securing this alliance was costing them mountains of gold, but with new monsters appearing along the river, it was a necessary expense.

“The mercenaries can handle the river monsters,” the captain said confidently.

The Mayor viewed this more as a strategic alliance. They had initially considered trying to seduce the leaders of the Border Guard to create a political marriage, but after seeing the women known as the Gold Fairy and the Black Flower, their candidates lost all confidence. Besides, Enkrid wasn’t the type to be swayed by such common tactics.

Their only choice left was to ensure they weren’t viewed as enemies. The Border Guard had been clear: their word was a knight’s oath, and as long as the trade city didn’t betray them, the peace would hold.

“I’ll trust them,” the Mayor decided. Enkrid’s reputation was one of honor, but also of terrifying power. His willingness to dive into the Demon Realm was proof enough that he was not an enemy anyone should want to have.

—

The High Paladin Overdeer had also received reports regarding Enkrid’s movements.

“It seems the God of the Scales gifted him with insanity in exchange for his fear,” Overdeer said with a chuckle that masked his underlying unease.

Noah, the current Pope, responded with a kind expression. “I think it is simpler than that. He just wants to rescue those trapped by the darkness. If the Church can assist, I want us to do so.”

“There is a path, but it might hurt your political standing, Your Holiness,” the Ragged Saint cautioned.

“Protecting lives is more important than my title,” Noah replied firmly.

Overdeer laughed. That was exactly the spirit a Pope should possess. “Then let’s proceed!”

They decided that the Demon Heresy Purging Priesthood would mobilize. They were more than happy to fulfill Noah’s request, citing a debt of gratitude they owed him.

—

“He’s my brother-in-arms, but let’s be honest—he’s a lunatic,” Crang remarked. Despite his royal status, his private speech remained blunt.

“A king who was prepared to declare war on the Empire when that ‘lunatic’ went missing doesn’t have much room to talk,” Count Marcus replied from across the table.

Crang narrowed his eyes. “I could have you punished for speaking to your sovereign that way, Marcus.” His voice was low and carried the weight of a ruler’s authority.

“Oh, please. Don’t make me jump out of my skin. Let’s stick to the topic,” Marcus said, completely unfazed. He knew the King was half-joking.

“Fine. How can we support him?”

“If this is his personal mission, it’s one thing. If we commit the crown’s full might, it becomes a political nightmare. Besides, our forces on the southern front are already at their limit,” Marcus explained. They couldn’t just send the Red Cloak Order without causing chaos elsewhere, and the royal house had already been involved in enough controversy lately.

“He isn’t the type to ask for our soldiers anyway,” Crang noted. He understood Enkrid perfectly. “He’s clearing out the monsters and holding his ground. We knew about that tainted city and ignored it; if the crown tries to seize it now that he’s fixed it, Enkrid won’t stand for it.”

Enkrid was a man of action—he would either destroy a threat or save a victim, but he would never just watch. Naurillia had lacked the resources to deal with the corrupted residents in that area, but now that Enkrid had broken the stalemate, the kingdom could finally step in.

“Sending Sir Andrew Gardner with a small, specialized unit should be enough. We don’t need to send an army of swordsmen; we need to send the right people,” Marcus suggested.

“Make it happen,” Crang commanded.

—

Enkrid didn’t rush into the Demon Realm immediately. He needed time to repair equipment and track down the messenger who had contacted Anne. He decided that Roman should stay behind to maintain the current position while they scouted for any remaining threats in the vicinity.

“The Demon Realm is often called the Corruption Zone for a reason,” the scholarly Lua Gharne explained. “To navigate it safely, you need to understand the ‘stories’ of the land—the legends kept by the locals.”

Though many of these tales were superstitious, Lua Gharne believed the folklore of people who lived on the edge of the darkness held practical truths. Enkrid returned to his disciplined routine. He woke at dawn to train, spent his mornings practicing the manifestation of Will’s blade as Ragna had instructed, and spent his afternoons listening to the villagers’ accounts.

Ragna would occasionally show off his skills with an air of superiority, which Enkrid tolerated patiently.

“I’m going to kill him one of these days. I can’t stand his face,” Rem would mutter, though Enkrid just ignored the threat.

“The vibe in this place is truly repulsive,” Shinar would constantly complain, earning a brief acknowledgment from Enkrid.

As predicted, the stories from the villagers were fascinating. While they were a mix of genuine history and fear-based myth, they provided a map of the local psyche. Even if they weren’t entirely factual, they were as engaging as any tale told by a professional storyteller.