A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The storm raged on for another full day before finally subsiding, just when it had become unbearably tedious.

It had been an exhausting downpour.

"Let's rest before we move on," Enkrid said after the rain stopped. Water still dripped from his clothes, and the sun peeked hesitantly through the parting clouds in the distance.

It wouldn’t last long. The sun was already tilting westward, and soon, the dim sky would plunge into complete darkness.

"Agreed."

Rem nodded.

The Mad Platoon wasn't the only concern—Crang had held up well, but the real issue was the horses.

They still had at least ten more days of riding ahead. If the mounts were already exhausted, they’d be in trouble.

More than anything, they needed to dry themselves off. Staying soaked would only lead to sickness.

If even one person started coughing, it would become a headache.

If a horse fell ill, it would be just as troublesome.

They had barely slept through the storm, marching endlessly instead.

"You're spending the time we gained on this?"

The escort muttered under his breath.

They had killed every last one of the assassins who had come for their lives, earning themselves time.

Shouldn't they be using it to move out of the enemy's predicted range?

Enkrid simply nodded.

Yes, this was how they were going to use it.

That was his answer.

The escort said nothing more.

There was nothing he could say.

His only duty was to protect his lord.

Even if he objected, they wouldn't listen.

‘He knows what he’s doing.’

At this point, his trust in Enkrid had become something akin to respect.

"Rem, start a fire."

"You sure like dumping the annoying tasks on me, don’t you?"

"Really? Should I send Ragna instead?"

If he sent Ragna to fetch dry firewood, they wouldn’t see him again until this time next year.

"No thanks."

Rem waved his hand dismissively.

"Take Dunbakel with you."

Enkrid assigned her as his assistant.

"…Ugh."

Dunbakel made her displeasure obvious.

Rem glanced at her and muttered,

"You wanna die?"

"I want to live. Nobody wants to die."

Their banter faded into the distance as they left the road and entered the forest.

In the meantime, Enkrid, Jaxon, and Ragna dug into the earth.

The one-eyed horse, still faithfully trailing them, helped by kicking at the dirt to loosen it.

"You’re good at that," Crang commented.

The horse stomped at the ground, carving out a shallow pit.

Enkrid placed a broad, flat stone over it.

Despite the heavy rain, their supplies had remained dry thanks to oil-treated cloth and leather wrappings.

But they hadn’t packed cooking equipment.

What they did have was salt and dried meat.

Enkrid pulled out the salted jerky.

The flat stone would serve as a makeshift cooking surface.

Despite the relentless storm, Rem and Dunbakel returned with dry branches, miraculously untouched by the rain.

Enkrid split the half-wet branches by hand, turning them into kindling. He then took out a flint and struck it.

Sparks.

With a few sharp clicks, embers flared to life.

Blowing gently, he coaxed the flames, feeding them with more sticks.

If it hadn’t rained, they could have built a bigger fire. But for now, this would have to do.

"Let’s dry our clothes."

Aside from Esther, the only woman present was Dunbakel—but as a beastkin, she could cover herself with fur in her transformed state.

Meaning, she would strip down without a second thought, whether people were watching or not.

Not that beastkin had any particular shame about nudity in the first place.

"It’s not you that’s the problem, but the people who have to look at you. Cover up."

Enkrid instructed Dunbakel.

"Am I too attractive?"

"Pfft."

The leopard snorted.

Dunbakel let it slide without protest.

Enkrid found that interesting.

Come to think of it, Esther got along with everyone in the platoon.

Not just not having conflicts—she was actually on good terms with them.

Why?

Was there even a reason?

Yes.

It was because of how they treated her.

None of them shunned her for being a mage.

The world’s disdain for witches had nothing to do with them.

Especially not for Rem, who practiced shamanism.

Their abilities were entirely different, but he still felt a sense of kinship.

That was why he treated Esther well.

Ragna didn’t care if she was a mage or a shaman.

Audin, once a staunch believer, would have considered her a heretic in the past.

But now?

After following Enkrid, he had broadened his worldview.

Now, he called her Sister Esther and treated her with respect.

Teresa, of course, had nothing against mages.

Having come from a cult, she had seen plenty of them before.

Compared to those, Esther was practically sociable.

Dunbakel was the same.

Esther had never done anything to bother her—and she was pretty.

Though it annoyed her when Esther tried to monopolize Enkrid’s attention.

That aside, Dunbakel actually liked her long hair.

It was incredibly soft.

And Esther didn’t mind her touching it.

She wasn’t fearful. She wasn’t overly curious.

She simply acknowledged them all as people, as individuals.

How could anyone not like that?

‘Do I… actually like people?’

It was a rare thought for Esther.

But she saw it as a good sign.

Mages existed for the sake of knowledge.

This, too, was a moment of discovery.

Would this relationship affect her magic?

It was worth investigating.

"Esther, dry your fur."

At Enkrid’s words, Esther obediently sat by the fire.

Everyone dried their clothes.

They remained in their undergarments—thin enough that they could be dried while still worn.

Their journey would take at least a month.

And on the very first day, they had already been ambushed by thirty assassins.

Not an ideal start.

"How about a drink?"

Rem asked.

Jaxon had already pulled out a flask and was taking a sip.

Enkrid looked at him and asked,

"Are you planning to share?"

No one looked particularly worried about their situation.

"Any more liquor?"

Even Crang joined in.

The escort shook his head.

How could they be so relaxed?

Jaxon handed a small bottle to Enkrid.

Taking a sip, Enkrid nodded in approval.

"Apple cider."

"I met a skilled brewer on my last trip."

"Impressive."

Enkrid was genuinely impressed.

"You’re just gonna hog it all?"

Rem approached Jaxon with an outstretched hand.

Without a word, Jaxon flicked out a dagger, aiming for his wrist.

Rem barely managed to pull his hand back.

"The hell was that?"

"Weren’t you offering me your wrist to cut off?"

"Captain, can I kill this damn stray cat?"

Enkrid took another sip of cider, watching their bickering.

Then, he sealed the bottle and tossed it.

Rem caught it midair.

Jaxon had no complaints about Enkrid sharing.

And that was the end of their fight.

Their tempers cooled.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Neither one looked at the other anymore.

Rem stopped grumbling.

"Alright, let’s drink together."

Instead of joining the others, Enkrid walked over to Dunbakel.

She wasn’t drinking. Instead, she was slowly roasting seasoned jerky on the hot stone, savoring the process.

“Mm, this is good.”

The seasoning kept the meat tender despite being dried. Among all the meals she had eaten while camping, this was one of the best.

Enkrid shared the same thought as he ate.

Crang took a piece, chewed thoughtfully, and then nodded in approval.

If he ever became king, he might just grant an award to whoever made this jerky.

Meanwhile, Ragna was staring at the storm-tossed horizon, lost in thought.

It reminded him of the past.

There had been a storm like this before.

The rain had been so thick he couldn’t see a step ahead.

The drops had pounded his body so heavily they might as well have left bruises.

A day like that had existed.

Remembering that moment, Ragna turned toward the direction where he had been born and raised.

He gazed at the stars, using them to orient himself. North.

"What are you doing?"

Enkrid approached, sensing something unusual about his demeanor.

Ragna answered without hesitation.

"Looking north."

Toward his homeland.

The place where his kin lived.

Was this longing? Regret? Or perhaps hatred?

Staring in that direction, it almost felt as if he could sense them beyond the horizon.

"That's south."

Enkrid’s words made Ragna silently turn his head back.

That was enough reminiscing for one night.

After moving through the storm, he was hungry.

Time to eat.

"You should never go anywhere alone," Rem remarked.

Ragna ignored him.

—

As the night deepened and it was time for rest, Enkrid assigned the watch order.

"Jaxon, you're first."

The rotation would be Jaxon, the escort, Rem, Enkrid, and finally Ragna.

Even if the enemy tried some magical trickery, Esther was already watching everything with those glowing eyes of hers.

Purr...

The leopard curled up beside Enkrid and dozed off.

He pulled her closer.

If anything happened, she would wake on her own.

Crang watched and commented,

"A mage who turns into a leopard..."

The escort still flinched whenever he looked at Esther.

First, he had been shocked by her transformation.

Then, he had been stunned by her appearance.

But at least he didn’t seem shaken at his core.

‘Not bad.’

Anyone by Crang’s side had to be solid.

He seemed uneasy about taking a break, but he didn’t voice any complaints.

Was it because his trust in Enkrid had grown too strong?

One battle could do that.

But more than that, it was a matter of respect.

Enkrid had proven his ability, and his lord respected him—so he did too.

Not a bad man at all.

His thoughts drifted, but Crang soon spoke again.

"What do you think of being a knight?"

"It's fun."

"Fun?"

He had asked if it suited him, and Enkrid answered with fun.

Enkrid nodded as he adjusted the branches where he had hung his clothes to dry.

Jaxon poked the fire with a long stick.

The damp wood crackled, embers flying into the air before disappearing.

The flickering flames, the warmth drying their soaked bodies—this was comfort.

Enkrid and Crang sat across from each other, with the fire between them.

The flames cast a reddish glow on Crang’s eyes.

Enkrid met his gaze.

Crang, in turn, held Enkrid’s.

Then, Crang spoke.

"Why are you helping me?"

He had called him a friend and shared his ambitions.

But never had he asked for his help.

Now, he was asking sincerely.

There was weight to his words.

It felt imposing.

Like the spoken command of a dragonkin.

Had one of his ancestors mixed with a dragon’s blood?

The force of his words alone carried the weight of dominance.

‘Interesting.’

Enkrid recognized the sensation.

It was similar to facing an overwhelming presence.

But it wasn’t enough to trigger his Will of Rejection.

This wasn’t a martial technique backed by actual Will.

And Enkrid wasn’t the type to be cowed by pressure alone.

"They said it’d be a waste if you died here."

So he answered casually.

"I won’t die, even without your help."

Crang said it without a single breath of hesitation.

What confidence.

And yet, Enkrid couldn’t deny it.

Even if Crang had to take a longer path, he would have found a way.

If he hadn’t been capable of that, he wouldn’t have survived this long.

Enkrid had asked himself this even before deciding to help him.

Why?

Was it just because he wanted a fight?

Because being near Crang meant constant assassination attempts?

Sure, fighting was part of Enkrid’s nature.

But that wasn’t all of it.

There was something more.

A deeper reason.

He had wanted to become a knight.

A knight is someone who protects.

So—what was worth protecting?

A knight shields those behind them.

So—who would stand behind him?

Enkrid had never sworn loyalty to Crang.

But—

He knew, without a doubt, that Crang was not someone unworthy of protection.

"You might be worth protecting."

Enkrid didn’t flinch under the weight of Crang’s gaze.

He faced it, unwavering.

"But I don’t know yet."

So he helped.

Because he didn’t know.

Because he wanted to find out.

Would saving someone even change anything?

He didn’t know. He would have to see for himself.

That was all.

He helped Crang because he wanted to know.

Crang smiled again.

Not the bold, sharp grin from before—

But a deeper, more thoughtful smile.

Enkrid remained expressionless.

"A knight choosing a king."

Neither of them were kings.

Neither of them were knights.

"Then being chosen by such a knight must be the first step of my kingship."

The escort furrowed his brows at Enkrid’s words—then quickly smoothed his expression.

His lord had spoken.

And he had no doubts about what he had said.

He was speaking with sincerity.

He was speaking about the beginning of his royal path.

And if that path started with the man before him—

Then all he could do was watch.

After all, his choice had already been made.

"And besides," Enkrid added, "I enjoy pissing off Count Molsen."

He hadn’t forgotten how the bastard refused to send reinforcements and played his own games.

"Molsen, that Count Molsen?"

"Yeah. He’s like a stray dog’s—"

Enkrid used a sophisticated phrase to say something vulgar.

It was an impressive skill.

Crang snorted.

"A stray dog’s what?"

It was a fitting insult.

That night’s conversation was nothing more than a brief exchange of wit.

Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbakel later said it was amusing to watch.

That was all.

The next morning, Crang’s escort resumed their journey.

And this time—

They encountered a pack of monsters.

Hiss!

Starting with Inmyeongyeon—monstrosities with human faces and canine bodies.

And from there, the real battle began.