A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Turn the ministers to your side.”

Crang recalled the queen’s words.

Their meeting had not taken place in the audience chamber, but in a secret location.

What was her first question back then?

He remembered it clearly.

It was the moment when Enkrid had spoken to the wild horse with mismatched eyes.

“Shall we go?”

Ah, that madman.

Where was he even planning to go? And why was the wild horse nodding as if it understood?

At that sight, the conversation he had with the queen resurfaced in his mind with perfect clarity.

“Why should I give up the throne?”

The queen had asked.

He had answered, though he wasn’t sure if it was a good answer.

All he had done was voice his beliefs.

“A ruler should be someone who swears to protect the kingdom.”

That had been the final line of his short response.

“I see that another remains who would ask the same question.”

The queen hadn’t evaluated his words, merely stating that fact.

Crang bowed his head in respect. The discussion that followed was far more pragmatic.

“The nobles are divided into factions. Can you account for them all?”

“Even a mind-reading sorcerer would struggle with that.”

Predicting the weather was an incredibly difficult task—one had to read the flow of water and track changes in nature.

Even a mage capable of such feats could not instantly discern the shifting nature of the human heart.

“I can predict how much rain will fall next month, but I cannot know the thoughts of the farmer who will cultivate the land.”

That was the saying of a famous mage, once widely quoted across the continent.

Whether such words were truly spoken or not, their meaning was clear.

A man who swears loyalty today might betray you for a handful of gold tomorrow.

That was human nature.

Especially among politicians—where the morning’s stance could change by noon, shift again by evening, and completely transform by dawn.

It is impossible to predict.

How could anyone possibly track the ever-changing minds of people?

But guiding them toward a desired path—

That was possible.

Through threats, intimidation, promised rewards, by reading their desires and ambitions.

A mage may not be able to do it, but a strategist, a politician, someone who thrives on using their mind—they could read people.

Not through the mysteries of magic, but through pure insight.

"Identify the factions. Bring the ministers to your side."

He understood the queen’s intent.

Could he fill the audience chamber with his own people?

It was an incredibly difficult task.

Most would say it was impossible.

Even the queen did not know how many factions currently existed within the Naurillian royal court.

Some served as informants for large merchant guilds.

Some plotted to establish their own independent nations.

Some swore loyalty to other great noble houses.

And some remained steadfast in their loyalty to the royal family.

Not one of them was on Crang’s side.

That made the task nearly impossible.

But—

The process will be arduous and relentless.

He had no illusions otherwise.

Still, there was a way. Crang had listened to the queen’s command and nodded.

“As you command.”

“May the Goddess of Fortune stay by your side.”

The queen of Naurillia worshipped the god of the scales, the deity of the sun and moon.

A god of fairness and judgment, unwaveringly neutral.

Yet she had spoken of fortune.

That alone showed how treacherous the road ahead of him would be.

“May fortune favor you. And may the balance of the scales remain.”

Crang had closed their conversation with the name of the deity his sister worshipped.

The queen had no children.

She could not have children.

Crang was the child of the previous king, hidden away in his old age.

What had his father intended by hiding him?

It was certainly not in preparation for inheriting the throne.

But things had become tangled, and the royal court had turned into a chaotic marketplace.

No, rather than a marketplace, it had become an arena.

Some had inflated themselves to appear more imposing.

Others hid daggers behind their backs.

And Crang had willingly stepped into that den.

"Turn the ministers to your side."

The queen’s words echoed in his mind.

He had spent countless hours pondering, making decision after decision.

There was a way. The road was simply painful.

It had left him with a near-constant headache.

Though laughing at Enkrid’s antics had eased it somewhat, the dull ache remained.

But Crang was used to it.

It was the path he had chosen.

A thorn-covered road, if there ever was one.

He knew it well, yet he had no intention of turning back.

Hadn’t he already seen it for himself?

"What do you want to be?"

"A knight."

He had asked, and Enkrid had answered.

It wasn’t laughable.

It was far more palatable than some spoiled noble idly reciting poetry while secretly coveting the throne.

More importantly, it had felt sincere.

The queen’s words and Enkrid’s words overlapped in his mind.

It should have been chaotic, yet it was not.

His headache should have worsened, but it did not.

For the past two weeks, despite the constant threat of assassins, Crang had felt an unprecedented sense of peace.

That was entirely thanks to them.

Was it because he had the luxury of feeling secure?

“Mount up.”

Enkrid spoke to the wild horse and leaped onto its back.

He did not wait for the horse to lower itself.

Instead, he simply kicked off the ground.

His body arced sideways, back bending forward, legs extending behind.

An unusual posture.

He hung suspended in the air for a brief moment before landing perfectly on the wild horse’s back.

It was a display of precise control, executed flawlessly at the peak of his jump.

A remarkable feat.

The mismatched-eyed horse did not so much as flinch under the weight of a fully armored rider.

A dull thud sounded as Enkrid landed, yet the horse remained firm—unshaken, like a statue.

Both the horse’s endurance and the rider’s technique were extraordinary.

"He didn’t even grab the mane?"

He had jumped in place, landing cleanly atop a bareback horse.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Behind him, Rem called out.

Ragna watched in silence, Dunbakel observed with curiosity, and Jaxon eyed him strangely.

“I’ll be back.”

Without looking back, Enkrid vanished.

Thump!

Crang gaped in shock.

What was that?

Since when did horses shatter the ground as they ran?

The wild horse propelled itself forward with speed beyond comparison to an ordinary steed.

A series of thunderous booms followed, leaving a straight trail behind it.

Enkrid flattened his body, becoming one with the galloping horse.

At that moment, Crang felt something inside him clear.

His mind had been tangled in thoughts, burdened by indecision.

A constant headache had plagued him for days.

Yet now, watching that absurd sight—

He felt his mind open.

“Ha.”

A laugh escaped him.

Enkrid wasn’t running off to chase the archer.

No.

The horse had simply decided to run, and Enkrid had agreed.

“That lunatic.”

Crang muttered.

“You’re only realizing that now?”

The gray-haired barbarian next to him agreed.

“Isn’t he your captain?”

“He is. But crazy is still crazy. Be careful, they’re all like that.”

Rem twirled his finger near his temple, casually grouping the entire unit alongside Enkrid.

Ragna, who had been watching Enkrid’s departure, turned.

“I’d watch your words. That man’s hobby is splitting heads with an axe. He doesn’t care whose.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just got a lazy demon inside him.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Jaxon interjected.

Rem continued.

“That one—he’s got dozens of sly cats lurking in his soul. I’d keep my distance.”

“Wow, you’re the one saying that?”

Dunbakel shook her head.

“That one’s just a poor beastman who hit his head as a kid. Be patient with him.”

“Who hit their head?!”

Ah.

A whole squad of lunatics.

Crang possessed just enough self-restraint not to voice that thought aloud.

“Is now really the time to fight?”

One simple sentence was enough to redirect their attention.

And, before he knew it, his tone had changed.

Gone was the weighty voice he had adopted for appearances.

This—this was how he truly spoke.

“Either way, be careful.”

Rem glanced at Crang and finally added one last comment.

Crang turned his head away.

The trail left behind by the wild horse carrying Enkrid came into view.

A mad dash that cast aside all hesitation.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The fog of uncertainty that had clouded his mind felt as though it had cleared.

Less thinking, more action.

Even as he had made his way toward the royal palace, dozens of unresolved problems had weighed on his mind.

But now, they were gone.

His headache had disappeared along with them.

He felt refreshed, like waking up well-rested to be greeted by the bright morning sun.

And, as if on cue, the sun was shining down warmly, illuminating everything around him.

“He really runs well.”

Crang muttered in admiration.

The man and horse had become one, now no more than a dot in the distance.

“No kidding. They call that thing a wild horse, but look how well it carries a rider.”

Crang suddenly wondered why this Rem character kept sticking close to him.

To be honest, he wished he would back off a little.

After all, out of all of them, this guy seemed like the craziest.

***

Enkrid didn’t actually understand what the mismatched-eyed horse was saying.

If one wished to communicate with such a beast, a druid would be required.

Esther knew this.

Her drowsy leopard eyes scrutinized Enkrid’s back.

She understood that what Enkrid was doing had nothing to do with mysticism or magic.

Enkrid understood the wild horse’s intent purely through intuition.

Of course, this was only possible because the horse’s intelligence was beyond that of an ordinary beast.

Mismatched Eyes expressed its desires and intentions with remarkable clarity.

Hieeeng.

Through its cries, gestures, and movements.

Enkrid understood and mounted.

It had been right after he gave a hand signal to Rem, telling him to watch over Crang.

After all, if left alone, the others might just stand around and watch as Crang dropped dead.

And so, as soon as he placed his weight onto Mismatched Eyes—

He felt it.

Not just the power of a regular mount, but a burning, untamed force beneath him.

An invisible energy pulsed through its mane, fine hairs, and every muscle.

"Will?"

It was something akin to that.

A force resembling the Will of Rejection, the Instantaneous Acceleration, and the Crushing Blade he had felt before.

“What the hell are you?”

He whispered just as he settled into the saddleless back.

His vision lowered slightly.

"It's about to run."

No movement. No cry. But the intention was clearly conveyed.

Enkrid immediately lowered his posture—

And the horse charged.

Boom!

Had he ever seen a horse shatter the ground as it ran?

I’m the one riding it right now.

It was too fast. The surroundings turned into streaks of color.

It felt as if he had activated Will, extending his acceleration indefinitely.

But adapting wasn’t difficult.

“Shit—!”

Before he knew it, he was right behind one of the archers.

The man turned his head and cursed.

His horse was a high-bred warhorse, but there was no comparing it to this half-monstrous beast.

Mismatched Eyes closed the distance instantly and adjusted its speed.

It bent its knees and extended them again, using precise muscle control to match the fleeing horse’s pace.

Then, it slammed its body into its target.

Thud!

From the archer’s perspective, the moment he ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) shouted, “Shit!” his entire world had tilted sideways.

That’s how fast and decisive the charge was.

Even after the impact, Enkrid barely felt a jolt.

Mismatched Eyes had absorbed the shock entirely.

Crazy horse.

Enkrid thought as he threw a cheap dagger.

Whoosh!

The blade flew and embedded itself in the fleeing archer’s throat.

“Let’s keep going.”

He spoke.

“Hieeeeng!”

The horse neighed in response, as if to say understood.

Enkrid had no idea why the horse had suddenly decided to carry him.

Maybe it had simply been provoked by the sight of the fleeing enemies, challenging it to give chase.

If so, his guess was correct.

Mismatched Eyes despised its name.

And it really didn’t like the sight of those bastards running away, as if mocking it, as if saying You can’t catch us.

A trivial reason.

But for a creature that lived to run, it was reason enough.

“Let’s go.”

Enkrid took down four more archers.

After that, no further attempts were made.

Even on the way back, Mismatched Eyes ran twice as fast as the other horses, but when it stopped, it was as gentle as a feather settling on the ground.

A horse truly born to run.

“You’ve had a rough time. So, that horse actually lets people ride it?”

The moment Enkrid returned, Crang asked the question.

Enkrid noticed that Crang’s tone had changed slightly.

He seemed more at ease.

Before, it had been as if he carried a stone in his gut.

Even though he had still exchanged jokes and handled his duties well—

This suits him better.

A brief thought.

After dismounting, they resumed their journey.

Crang spoke again.

“What will you do once you become a knight?”

“I plan to end the war.”

At those words, Crang’s pupils constricted.

“You? A mere knight?”

Could a knight really be called mere?

Only someone with a broad mind could say such a thing.

“Why? Am I not allowed to?”

“No.”

Then why shake his head after saying it?

Crang had no choice.

Because he shared the same goal.

But to end it, they would have to make it even bigger, even more brutal.

A contradiction, somehow.

Well, that was how it was.

There were no more doubts.

Oddly enough, watching that lunatic Enkrid ride a wild horse at full speed made some of his worries seem utterly pointless.

“Let’s have a duel sometime.”

“Whenever you like.”

Crang no longer cared about assassination threats.

He openly conversed with Enkrid and the others.

In no time, he had become familiar with them.

Or rather, he had at least exchanged a few words with everyone.

“I hear you get lost often.”

“I simply prioritize going the right way over going quickly.”

He spoke with Ragna.

“You’re really kind of creepy, you know that?”

“If a barbarian forced you to eat something, you can always shake a carrot at them.”

At dinner, he spoke with Jaxon, who happened to be eating boiled carrots at the time.

“I heard your hobby is splitting heads with an axe.”

“Who said that? That’s not a hobby—it’s a specialty.”

He laughed with Rem.

“You seem a little crazy.”

“Do you want to know who’s really the craziest? The captain. He’s the craziest of us all.”

And Rem even shared a secret.

“Are you really a beastman? Not a weretiger?”

“My beast form is a white lion. If you say that in front of me again, I might just bite you.”

“Enki will get mad.”

“...You’re sneakier than you look. Were you always like this?”

He even found amusement in teasing Dunbakel.

As they chatted, before they knew it, the capital of Naurillia loomed ahead.

They had ridden for more than fifteen days straight to get here.

“Why won’t it let me ride it?”

Rem kept trying to mount Mismatched Eyes afterward, but it wasn’t happening.

More importantly, even Enkrid didn’t attempt to ride it again.

As if to say, ride a normal horse unless we’re running full speed.

And so, they arrived at the capital.

A city with the sturdiest walls of any in the land.

The heart of Naurillia.

The city where the king resided.

Crang straightened his posture as he gazed upon it.

The sun had just risen, casting light upon the walls.

At night, those walls would glow faintly, a remnant of ancient magic.

Even the sight of the walls absorbing sunlight was a spectacle.

Crang took in the view and spoke.

“I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

Enkrid, watching the walls beside him, asked.

Crang answered immediately.

“The craziest one here is definitely you.”

What kind of nonsense was that?

Had he been spending too much time around Rem?

Enkrid began to worry about Crang’s mental state.