A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

It was something Enkrid hadn’t anticipated, which meant there were no expectations.

And, adding to that, it meant it was something he didn’t want.

“Me, a battalion commander?”

Controlling Rem, along with the others, including the beastman Dunbakel, was honestly enough of a hassle already.

He would rather swing his sword one more time. It was a natural desire, a craving.

His fingers seemed to almost touch a dream he had never reached.

Anyone would try to drag that dream to them, bending and stretching their fingers in desperation.

That’s the kind of moment it was. When you wanted to indulge in desire, not responsibility.

But to oversee an entire city?

Maybe someday he would welcome such a task, but right now, that wasn’t the case.

It seemed almost ridiculous to search for a reason why.

So, what if he became battalion commander?

He could already imagine what Rem would say.

“Battalion commander? Then I’ll take the position of platoon commander and run my own platoon.”

And he’d lead dozens of soldiers, dragging them around until they retired with honors.

They’d be too busy running away.

Looking back, maybe giving Dunbakel to Rem was a mistake.

But now, there was no point in worrying about it.

So the answer was clear.

He didn’t want it right now.

“Alright.”

Though his thoughts were long, his decision came swiftly. The speed with which he answered left no room for hesitation. As soon as the question was asked, the answer was already there.

“Just as I thought.”

Marcus nodded, as if it was obvious. There was no hint of regret. But he did add something.

“Let’s count this as the second time. Let’s say I’ve offered it three times. If you change your mind, feel free to let me know.”

“Understood.”

Enkrid answered nonchalantly once more.

“Now, let’s hear the reason. I should at least know why you turned me down.”

Marcus steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. It seemed like a habitual pose; Enkrid had seen it many times before.

From the way Marcus carried himself, it didn’t seem like he was really curious, but Enkrid still answered. After all, it was only polite to respond to a superior’s question.

Standing straight in front of the table, Enkrid spoke.

“The first battalion commander won’t approve.” 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

This was the internal resistance he expected.

The first battalion commander was the man closest to being the next battalion leader. Since the Border Guard was now in charge of Martai, it seemed right to give the position to him.

Even if they suppressed him, the subordinate directly below him would harbor resentment, which was bound to cause problems. It was hard to imagine a positive outcome.

“Politically astute.”

Marcus maintained his pose, still steepling his fingers as he spoke. But perhaps that wasn’t enough for him, so he asked again.

“Any other reasons?”

“I don’t really need the battalion commander position.”

“...That’s an unusual reason. It’s not an excuse or a lie, which makes it even more intriguing.”

Marcus relaxed his posture and leaned back in his chair. Now, it seemed like he was really starting to get interested.

Enkrid knew that Marcus was someone who always had ulterior motives.

But that didn’t matter much, so he spoke freely.

The truth was, the position didn’t really feel necessary right now.

To become a knight, one had to focus on skill first. Strength was paramount. The qualities of a commander could come later.

Of course, if the qualities of a commander became necessary, he would learn them and adapt. After all, if something was needed, he had always learned it by putting his life on the line.

But right now, it wasn’t necessary.

It wasn’t so much a lack of skill as it was a thirst for more.

From Zimmer’s thrusting technique to everything else before that, there was a lot to relearn and master.

He had also learned something from Marcus's strategy. There was still a long way to go.

And that path was what he wanted to walk.

It was a path toward a faded dream. Because of that, he wanted to push responsibility aside for now.

That was his true intent.

Enkrid realized this for himself now. He had reflected on his current self through just a few words.

One truly only understands their own thoughts when they delve into them.

“I’m still lacking in swordsmanship,” Enkrid replied.

“If you’re lacking in that, then half of the soldiers should be dead by now,” Marcus said with a grin, then clapped his hands lightly as if he had figured it out.

“Well, those who say they don’t want the Crona will find it hard to even hold a weapon.”

Marcus mumbled that, and instead of telling him to leave, he asked about the current situation.

Enkrid, naturally, responded.

“The situation around us seems to be getting worse. Isn’t it?”

Enkrid spoke from instinct, but in reality, those problems were already starting to surface.

It had only been a few days since the battle had ended, and the consequences weren’t immediately visible.

What made it worse was how quickly the battle had ended—like popcorn popping in a flash.

He had expected a long siege, but their strategy had shattered that.

First, they had hidden Enkrid, and then, in the second move, they had opened Martai’s gates.

That was the moment the enemy lost their morale and surrendered almost instantly.

Had they shown all their strength from the start, they might have spilled more blood than expected.

In any case, Marcus was well aware of the shifting tides.

As the city gained strength, problems were bound to increase.

But expecting help from the central government was unlikely now.

With the way things had changed, the Border Guard had withdrawn from the frontier defense. That was a weakening of their forces.

Moreover, they had provoked the Black Blades, which had put them in a threatening position with the surrounding nobles.

Enkrid personally had also killed the traitor.

“So, that’s why I offered the battalion commander position,” Marcus said.

“If I take it, what will change?” Enkrid asked.

Was he asking because he didn’t know?

“A commander who is ridiculously strong is impressive,” Marcus replied.

But that wasn’t quite the issue. Managing the entire city seemed different than commanding on the battlefield.

“Besides, honestly, the first battalion commander won’t have any objections.”

Marcus added.

If someone could challenge him, then it was an issue worth considering. But this wasn’t a simple matter. The first battalion commander would not rebel. He would accept it, even if he had personal reservations.

Marcus believed this, but Enkrid didn’t fully agree.

Humans were most upset when something they had already expected or thought was right was taken from them.

Though their thoughts differed, there was no real issue in this case.

Enkrid wouldn’t accept the position, and Marcus, in truth, didn’t intend to give it to him.

Marcus, deep down, believed that giving Enkrid an even bigger position would be more fun for him.

After all, once he became a knight, land and power would come naturally.

‘I’ve come to believe that this friend will become a knight soon enough.’

Marcus thought this to himself, but outwardly, he said the words he had prepared.

“Then, will you at least take the position of training commander?”

From here on, it was Marcus’s unilateral decision. The frontier defense had vacated its position, but it wouldn’t be easy to expand the Mad Platoon.

He would try, though.

“You shouldn’t expect too much,” Enkrid replied.

Hadn’t the Fairy Company commander said something similar?

Wasn’t Rem an expert in dragging people around?

The man would probably desert after joining the unit anyway.

This was Marcus’s plan after considering that.

‘Provide a sense of belonging and position, a sense of duty, and something to do.’

Enkrid, who loved training anyway, seemed like a perfect fit to lead it.

And so, the new position of training commander was created.

“Yes, understood.”

Enkrid accepted easily. Marcus hadn’t expected that response, but Enkrid had similar thoughts.

What was the best for the safety of the city?

Simply raising the overall quality of the troops would do the trick. And to achieve that, what was needed?

‘Just roll with it.’

Enkrid didn’t expect others to work as hard as he did, but if training time was extended and some mandatory effort was added, skill would increase.

He was the proof of that.

If someone from the Border Guard heard the news, they would surely be horrified.

But in this room, it was just Marcus and Enkrid.

“Then.”

“Alright.”

Enkrid bowed as he left. Though being the training commander was a new position, the victory celebration was more pressing.

He would be recognized for his contributions in this battle.

The rest would follow afterward.

Until then, Enkrid planned to hone and sharpen what he had learned and felt.

As always, time was more precious than gold.

Especially lately, when he hadn’t even encountered any walls to overcome.

‘Is the ferryman being lazy?’

If the ferryman had heard that, he would probably have just smiled wryly.

And so, two days later, the victory celebration was held.

“Woah! The glorious battle! The one that swallowed Martai and marked the birth of a new hero and rising star!”

With this battle, Enkrid’s name spread far beyond the city level.

Was it effective that he had said his name in the middle of the battlefield?

"I don't know."

It could have had some effect, or it could have had none. It's really one of those things that can't be known for sure.

While everyone was eating, drinking, chatting, and loudly cheering, Enkrid’s mind was elsewhere.

‘Experience.’

Digesting previous experiences is one thing, but it felt like stagnation.

Separately from digesting what he already possessed, a desire had formed.

Does that mean an adventure is necessary? Should he leave this place?

For a new pattern, for new experiences?

Something he realized while observing Marcus’ strategy stirred his mind again.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Rem asked from beside him, holding a pumpkin pie in one hand and a strong liquor in the other. The sharp smell of alcohol hit his nose. It was a drink close to a potent spirit.

It seemed Rem was happily soaking his stomach with the alcohol.

Enkrid sat on a chair at a market stall.

They were holding a drinking party in the middle of the day.

Despite that, soldiers and citizens, young and old alike, couldn’t help but glance at Enkrid.

After all, wasn't he the hero of this battle?

Of course, Rem and the Mad Platoon members were receiving attention as well.

But then again, they were the type of people who couldn’t care less about others’ gazes.

Amidst it all, Jaxon had somehow disappeared.

He might have gone to the red-light district again, no surprise there.

“I wonder how many really good fighters you can meet by wandering the continent.”

It was a straightforward answer.

Hearing this, Rem chuckled.

“I know from wandering around myself. It's not easy. The ones you hear about and think are friendly are mostly just all talk.”

“That’s true.”

Ragna, who had appeared on the other side without Enkrid noticing, agreed with Rem’s words.

He had a few drinks too, and his cheeks were flushed. But he didn’t seem drunk. He probably hadn’t had that much.

Didn’t he mention that he wasn’t much of a drinker?

Anyway, from what he was saying, it seemed they both had traveled a bit across the continent.

“Is that so?”

Enkrid asked back, feeling a strange thirst.

What was the source of this thirst?

Was it because he wanted to fight more? It wasn’t that simple.

Was it because he was so eager to train his sword? No, it didn’t feel like that either.

Could it be some obsession born from not being able to repeat today? Waiting for repeated death?

For Enkrid, the repetition of today, the wall, the ferryman, were all separate matters.

He had jokingly cursed the ferryman to himself, but for Enkrid, whether today repeated or not didn’t matter.

He simply moved forward, and that's why he was here now.

The repetition of today was just a tool he used on his path forward.

He also thought it was something that became ingrained in his body through a series of coincidences.

So, this thirst was something else.

Something completely different.

It was born after realizing the form of the swordsmanship of the ceremonial sword techniques. It was simply a desire to compete with others scattered across the vast continent. In other words, it was pride.

A burning fighting spirit would also work as an answer.

‘Fight and experience.’

That was the way to fully craft the dream he had pieced together.

Until now, whenever he learned something new, he was always dragged along, but this time was different.

After observing Marcus’ strategy, Enkrid pinpointed what was missing for him. It was about melting the previous experiences and building a new tower of experiences—an insight he discovered and set as a landmark for himself.

“Would you collect a list of people who are good at fighting, sword or otherwise?”

It was Gilpin, the bald one. When did he come?

He seemed to have drunk a fair bit too, yet his posture was still straight. He wasn’t the type to make mistakes.

Hearing Gilpin’s words, Enkrid thought.

What would happen if he received that list? Would it be time to leave? To abandon the city?

It was something worth considering.

As he stared off into the distance, Kraiss suddenly spoke up.

“Captain, there’s an easier way. I don’t understand why you’re talking about wandering and becoming a vagrant.”

“What do you mean, King Eyes?”

Rem asked as he took another sip of his drink. And our big-eyed soldier was definitely something else when it came to his head.

Just like his big eyes, the brain inside was undoubtedly solid.

“With your name spreading far and wide after this battle, there are plenty of people in Martai and the frontier villages who could become our spokespersons. It’s simple. Instead of going out to find them, we make them come to us.”

Kraiss’ few words were spot on, almost like a thunderclap of realization.

Was pride really something Enkrid only felt?

For anyone who was good at fighting.

“That sounds plausible, King Eyes.”

Audin nodded in agreement, and Dunbakel next to him gave a subtle nod.

“There were plenty of mercenaries who wandered about just to train their swords,” Dunbakel added.

That was true.

“Soldiers who’ve finished their time in the battlefield, how about them? They’d probably flock to us. If we beat them down again, word will spread, and if they want, they can keep fighting until they’re sick of it, dying in battle. Of course, if this place becomes a battlefield, the ones who come will drastically reduce,” Dunbakel concluded.

“Kraiss, you do it.”

Enkrid was impressed. So, he rewarded Kraiss appropriately. It was a pouch of Krona. He’d been planning to use it for new armor, but he handed it over to Kraiss.

“Oh.”

The way he snatched the pouch was as fast as blocking a flying dagger. His hands were quick.

“Thank you.”

Kraiss grinned, and Enkrid was secretly satisfied.

“Spread the word well.”

“Yes, don’t worry about it!”

It was a deal everyone was satisfied with.

Rem also chuckled. It was an acceptable victory party.

As time passed, some soldiers came forward, saying they wanted to join the Mad Platoon.

“I want to go mad too!”

“I want to be a madman!”

“I’m already crazy!”

But why were all the volunteers speaking this way? It was anyone’s guess.

Rem, half-drunk, said it was fine, and that he’d accept anyone. Then he glanced at Enkrid and spoke up.

“The squad is too small, isn’t it?”

That was true.

After sobering up, if they didn’t regret it, everyone agreed to join the Mad Platoon.

Even if they weren’t part of some test, it meant they’d be showing their skills.

There were also words like "glory" and "hero’s birth" floating around.

The one thing that was certain was that Enkrid was the hero of this party.

“Would you like to eat marmalade for the rest of your life? Of course, all for free.”

In the middle of it all, the city merchant and some alluring women tried to tempt him.

“No!”

One city youth screamed at the sight.

Even without the youth’s scream, Enkrid had no intention of doing anything with the marmalade girl.

Let alone seeing a man with a face that looked like the world was crumbling.

“I’ll just pay for it.”

“Tch.”

Some of the market women were bold, while others subtly threw flirtatious glances, but before anything complicated could happen, someone appeared to bring the situation to an end.

“Count, your lordship approaches!”

The shout from the attendant echoed through the party hall.