A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

‘Stupid human.’

What on earth was he doing to his body?

Esther had learned something before: if she used all her strength to relieve his fatigue, she would end up exhausting herself.

And why was that?

It was because Encrid was too absorbed in the grimoire he had picked up.

‘It’s useful, but…’

There was a lot to discern and separate.

While pondering alone, she suddenly realized she was in a pitiful state, unable to even see her own magical realm at the moment.

‘Why am I like this?’

“Sigh.”

The feeling of self-pity lasted only for a moment. Before she could lament her situation, the man who held her in his arms groaned again.

A crazy man who starts every day with training, no matter what.

Whatever he was carrying in his body, it was slowly dismantling the curse that plagued her.

‘Might as well do my job.’

Since the speed of this breakdown accelerated when the man’s body was in good condition, Esther tried her best to relieve his fatigue as usual.

Unable to open her magical realm, she used her body as a medium to extract and dissipate the fatigue from the man’s body.

In the process, sometimes fragments of the man’s dreams or thoughts would be projected into her mind.

Previously, she would just see swords appearing or sometimes a deep, dark well.

But today, a part of his dream was revealed.

The dream seemed to be a fragment of the man’s past.

Through the chaotic dream, a face began to emerge.

For some reason, this face had left a deep impression on the man who now held her, so it was vividly clear.

Seeing this, Esther frowned.

‘Ugly.’

It wasn’t that the face was truly ugly, but rather it exuded a sense of infinite slyness.

That was the atmosphere. More precisely, it was likely how Encrid perceived the man.

Esther watched the man’s dream. Though it seemed long in the dream, it was just a moment in reality.

‘Stop wandering.’

Just get on with your usual tasks.

Esther reprimanded the man. How could she dissipate his fatigue with such dreams?

With that one remark, the dream ended, and the groaning from the man’s mouth ceased.

Soon, only the sound of his deep sleep breathing reached Esther’s ears.

* * *

Encrid knew it was a dream the moment he opened his eyes.

‘Again?’

It was surprising that he had the same dream once more.

If the ferryman of the black river had appeared, he might have just accepted it.

A moment from the past, a dream he had already had many times.

He once thought of it as a nightmare, but after recalling and revisiting it so often, it had become just another moment.

“Well, um, I’ll just let you live.”

A sharp presence.

A mercenary with triangular eyes.

Beside him lay a colleague he had started working with.

They had known each other for only three days, but were in a situation where they had to trust each other and fight together. Or rather, they had to.

The job had started with a request to exterminate some beasts.

“We’ve got a few harpies causing trouble, it’d be great if you could take care of them.”

The village was located on the outskirts of the kingdom, and the villagers had pooled their money together, collecting a currency called ‘Krona’.

The village chief’s son traveled to the nearest city and hired five mercenaries.

Among them was Encrid.

And also, among them was this bastard.

A cry that resembled a raven’s.

Swaying breasts, the descending claws of a harpy.

A long-time companion lost their life to a harpy’s attack.

“Don’t just rush in, you’ll die before your time if you keep doing that.”

Though his tongue was sharp, he was a mercenary with a good heart.

He wasn’t the kind of friend who should die like that.

But he was stabbed from behind by the man with triangular eyes.

A simultaneous attack from both the front and back, timed with the harpy’s strike.

It was a collaboration of monster and man.

Afterward, the triangular-eyed mercenary drew his sword and swung it.

Tingling!

A thin blade swept around, emitting a strange sound. It bent and extended, moving so quickly it was hard to see.

Whoosh!

The sound of his sword cutting through the air was very distinct.

And the sword that cut through the air pierced a hole in his companion’s head.

In the heart, the thigh, the forearm—the tricks performed by the flexing blade killed his companion.

After killing everyone, the man said that he would let Encrid live.

A sinister smile, a scattering of murderous intent.

Those eyes that said he wasn’t even worth dealing with.

Encrid did not get angry, nor did he shout.

He silently raised his sword.

“What? You want to fight me?”

Words were unnecessary.

He couldn’t even exchange a few blows before his shoulder was pierced.

“I said I’d let you live.”

That was all there was.

And then he left. The fact that Encrid survived afterward was more than half due to luck.

“I heard everyone died, how did you…?”

Having barely survived from the land where monsters and demons dwelled, he arrived at a village.

There, he gathered his strength and made the life-threatening journey to reach the city again.

The man was already gone by then.

There was no way to even lodge a complaint with the guild he was affiliated with.

By then, the man had become a central figure in the guild.

Eventually, rumors spread that he had become a drifter a few years later.

Apparently, he had messed with the wrong noble’s daughter.

The reason he had killed Encrid’s companion was similar.

“Why the hell did you act out?”

It had happened because another mercenary, knowing the man’s long-standing habits, had reprimanded him.

As for why he had spared Encrid? He never asked, so he didn’t know.

But there seemed to be a sense of self-satisfaction in it. As if he didn’t kill just anyone, that the ones who died had deserved it in some way.

“Pitiful bastard.”

The words the man left as he departed.

Encrid thought the world was unfair.

He also thought that skill and character were separate things.

‘He was a piece of shit.’

A dream is just a dream.

If Encrid had been an ordinary person, he would have sought revenge against his adversary.

But he didn’t. He would take up his sword to hold him accountable for his crimes if given the chance, but he did not burn his life for that one purpose.

He did not throw away his life for the comrade who had lost their heart to a harpy.

He let go of all resentment and memories, setting his life on fire toward his dream.

That was Encrid’s life: steadfast and unwavering.

‘You aren’t even worth killing.’

Even if his adversary looked at him like that, rather than be hurt, he just kept moving forward.

No matter how dark, damp, terrifying, or painful the memories tried to consume him.

He endured and shook them off silently.

‘A meaningless task.’

Did the despair and pain weighing down his shoulders help when he swung his sword?

Could they be a good guidepost on the path to the life he desired and wanted to live?

No.

So he did not dwell on it. He swung his sword instead of despairing. He swung his sword instead of ruminating on his comrade’s death. He swung his sword instead of vowing revenge.

“Should I kill you this time?”

The dream twisted. It seemed like the ferryman was vaguely visible behind the adversary.

As the memory of that time washed over him like a wave, turning into a chaotic sea, everything began to be engulfed.

Meow.

Somewhere, a languid animal’s cry was heard.

And that was it. The dream blurred and broke.

‘Stop wandering.’

A voice was heard. It was clear and bright, yet also warm.

That’s how it felt.

‘Esther?’

For no reason, Encrid thought of a blue-eyed panther.

The end of the shattered dream.

Bwooooom.

The sound of a horn woke Encrid.

This time it was reality. The familiar ceiling of a tent came into view.

The panther in his arms was sleeping quietly, as if dead, a faint warmth radiating from its body.

Turning his head outside the tent, the morning sun had yet to rise.

A faint blue light softly seeped in.

Encrid was not the only one responding to the sound of the horn.

“Good morning.”

It was Rem. Rem had sprung up and started gathering his gear.

“Damn, it’s still cold.”

The barbarian especially disliked the cold. Even though there wasn’t the wind that could be called a bitter cold, he still complained.

But his hands didn’t stop.

He put on a gambeson that wasn’t particularly thick and strapped two axes to his waist as he stood up.

Audin also got up and grabbed his two clubs.

“May you have a blessed day, good morning, brothers.”

No one responded, but neither did anyone scold him.

Jaxon, who had already armed himself, and Ragna, who was moving with unusual promptness for once, were also up.

Though Ragna didn’t jump up and move quickly, he quietly gathered his equipment.

Encrid didn’t just watch them. He had three whistling daggers left.

He wore a thin shirt as an undergarment, over which he donned a leather armor with a tear near the right shoulder.

The leather armor was thin and supple, making it comfortable to wear. After putting on his gambeson, boots, and gauntlets, he was fully equipped.

A guard sword hung at his waist.

A knife was strapped to his left leg.

Previously, there were signs of damage on his right gauntlet from an encounter with a Frog.

Thinking back, both his leather armor and gauntlets were half-ruined.

‘Can these be fixed with sewing?’

It didn’t seem likely.

In any case, it wasn’t something to deal with now.

Andrew, Mac, and Enri, although often teased as the youngest or a burden in this ‘Madmen Platoon’, were seasoned soldiers.

Andrew had even proven his skills by killing an enemy soldier in the past.

Though the excitement from that time had faded, the confidence remained.

They, too, gathered their equipment.

“What is it?” Andrew asked.

“What do you think?” Rem gave him a pitying look.

“It seems like those who were hiding have come out.”

Mac put together the situation in his mind. Why would the horn sound off so early in the morning, especially with visibility impaired by fog?

Krais, rubbing his eyes, had the same thought.

Damn it, attacking at dawn would ruin his skin.

He quickly dismissed the idle thoughts and began to think sharply.

The army had deployed more scouts than usual. The guard duty was also more stringent.

They hadn’t even shared celebratory drinks after their victory.

They hadn’t been given extra rations either.

The battle wasn’t over yet. Each unit’s commander must have been keeping their troops in line.

There’s a saying on the battlefield: today’s victory doesn’t guarantee tomorrow’s.

‘Marcus is indeed a competent commander.’ Krais thought. He didn’t fully understand all of Marcus’s decisions, but he considered them to be reasonably sound.

“Rally! Everyone, rally!” The voice of a messenger echoed from outside.

Krais found it odd that the enemy had hidden themselves. Why were they holed up in their stronghold?

They could have fled, made a last stand, requested reinforcements, or done something.

But just hiding?

Why?

The answer to a simple question isn’t always straightforward.

But sometimes it can be clear and concise.

‘They must think they’re still in a favorable position. Or they believe they have a chance to turn things around.’

In other words, they likely have more hidden tricks up their sleeve.

The Battalion Commander would surely be aware of this.

Now, it was a matter of whose prediction would be more accurate.

Is Aspen’s prepared sword sharper?

Or is the shield of our commander sturdier?

These were things Krais couldn’t control.

“If you’re not planning on staying behind, grab your gear.”

Encrid tapped Krais on the head, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, right.”

In any case, today he would stick close to this side.

Encrid could see what Krais was thinking.

It seemed he planned not to stray far for a while. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have layered on the gambeson like that.

While no one wants to die, Krais’s evident care for his own life was admirable.

He looked like someone who would survive no matter what.

Outside the tent, there was a flurry of activity. Soldiers were moving and gathering in their own ways, responding to the horn and the messenger’s call.

“Heh, there’s a scent in the air. I can smell it.”

Rem seemed to be in a good mood.

“The fog is bothersome, but, well, it’s manageable.”

Ragna wasn’t slacking off today.

“If you sharpen your senses, the fog isn’t a problem.”

Jaxon was unusually kind today.

“The Lord says there are many vacancies in heaven today.”

Audin’s prayer sounded fiercer than ever.

To fill the vacancies in heaven? It sounded like a vow to take many lives.

Andrew, Mac, and Enri were all ready.

He felt light.

During the sparring yesterday, Encrid felt an endless surge of energy.

It was as if he was drawing on the strength meant for tomorrow.

‘Good.’

Even after such intense training yesterday, he felt great today. No, better than yesterday.

‘No pain in the wrist.’

Cuts and stab wounds had already started healing, a result of the combined effects of divine and Fairy medicine.

“All troops, advance! Move out! Forward! Forward!”

A messenger shouted from the front.

The troops began moving through the fog, which was thicker than usual along the riverbank.

It didn’t seem like a spell. It was just a hunch, but it seemed unlikely that the enemy would use the same tactic twice.

The allied forces were likely prepared for such a possibility.

“Good, good.”

Rem kept chattering.

“What is?”

“Today feels like it’s going to be interesting.”

Sometimes, one had to wonder what was going on in Rem’s head.

The problem was, Encrid felt the same way.

He sensed something new approaching beyond the fog, an intuition that stirred excitement in battle and made his heart race.

As everyone, including the commanding officer at the front, lined up tensely.

“Shit!”

A voice burst out from an ally at the front.

“Shoot! Shoot quickly!”

Through the hazy fog, Encrid saw a strange sight.

There was a blurry gray shadow.

It was as big as a bear, and its head was towering above.

A mass larger than even Audin, with a head-like shape attached, was charging through a rain of arrows, coming towards them.

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