A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"If there’s something you want to do, do it."

The Marquis stared at Kin for a moment and then immediately turned and left. Kin stood there, lost in thought for a while.

The wind blew, carrying dust with it. Kin didn’t even notice the dust brushing across her face.

‘Is this really happening?’

Her entire body trembled in shock.

The head of the family wasn’t someone who would reverse his words once said.

As she thought about it, the words and actions of the person who had created this situation began to stir her heart.

‘Should I thank him?’

Honestly, she wasn’t uninterested in the man known as Enkrid. That said, she didn’t want to be his wife.

Was it a dream? Kin had more interest in the finished products made from gems than in the process of crafting them.

If she were born into a prestigious family like the Baisars, it would be right to appreciate the finished products rather than dabble in making or selling them.

Therefore, this was something that would be hard to get permission for. It should only be something close to a hobby.

But how does a person’s heart work?

She liked this work. She loved the opportunity to express her will and show her abilities, not to be an accessory to a man.

However, to achieve that, she would likely have to give up certain things.

She could borrow the prestige of her family, but she could no longer live as if she were part of the direct Baisar lineage.

Kin wasn’t so naive as not to realize that.

‘Can I really live like this?’

At that moment, a person living completely on their own terms caught her eye.

His name was Enkrid. She thought it would be appropriate to express her gratitude.

It was because of what he said that this situation was now concluded.

Once she had finished her thoughts, she began walking toward Enkrid, who was swinging his sword in one corner of the training hall. She had barely taken a few steps before she was stopped.

"Leave him be."

The barbarian, leaning against one wall, spoke.

"I have something to say..."

"Right now, you’re naked, dancing... oh, you’re a noble, aren’t you? Either way, no matter what you say, he won’t listen."

There was an unpleasant comparison mixed in, but Kin ignored it and looked at Enkrid.

She saw the man who had his back to the Marquis, swinging his sword. His pupils were unfocused, and his mouth was half-open. He looked like he was under the influence of something. He was already intoxicated by his swordsmanship.

He was a true training addict.

‘No wonder he’s called a madman.’

Kin turned away. Later, she shared this incident with a few acquaintances. The Marquis, though pretending to be upset, was pleased with the boldness and shared this story with others.

As a result, no one in the capital dared to bother Enkrid and his group anymore.

After all, he had rejected even the Marquis Baisar, who had promised him a Duke’s title.

***

Soon after the Marquis and Kin left, Enkrid turned his back to them and immediately swung his sword. He couldn’t delay this fun any longer. Whether anyone was watching or waiting, it no longer mattered.

‘Ah, this is fun.’

Had he learned anything from facing off against Rem, Ragna, or Audin?

No. He was just broken.

Yet, this was fun. The process of swinging his sword, thinking, and recreating the movements again gave him immense joy.

There were movements he had repeated hundreds of times in a day: overhead slashes, horizontal cuts, downward cuts, thrusts—basic techniques. Enkrid started repeating them.

He didn’t expect any new revelations or changes from this.

He simply did it because it was enjoyable.

After a few days of swinging his sword and spending time on simple sparring, news came that the award ceremony for military merit was about to take place.

"Let’s go."

Enkrid set out with Rem, Ragna, Audin, Dunbakel, and Teresa.

Shinar had matters to attend to and didn’t join them from the beginning.

"I’ll skip it."

Sachsen wasn’t the type to attend such events.

Esther, in her leopard form, shook her head. So, only the others went.

In the audience chamber, nobles had gathered.

"The hero of the nation has arrived."

A servant announced from behind, and King Crang, seated on the throne, nodded. Crang looked extremely fatigued, with dark circles under his eyes.

The closest nobles were two. One was the Marquis of Octo, the other was Marcus Baisar.

The Marquis of Baisar was a step behind them.

King Crang, not bothering with the formalities of talking about his greatness or the magnificence of his bloodline, spoke directly.

"I apologize for the delay in the ceremony."

Some nobles, seeing the brevity of the formalities, sighed.

They muttered about the king’s dignity, but kept silent in front of Crang.

The king who had ended the civil war.

The king who had won without calling upon the knight orders.

The king whom the nobles themselves had chosen to follow.

This was his first event. To openly contradict what he had done? Even the most foolish noble would lose their noble title if they had that little political sense.

Several nobles and commanders were given proper rewards. Land or portions of territory were some of the rewards.

Andrew was among them. He received land and gold, and his title was changed. He became the Earl of Gardner. He also received a position within the capital.

The ceremony continued.

"Marcus Baisar, I command you, as the commander-in-chief..."

A monk, who also served as the secretary, conveyed the king's will.

"Due to your accomplishments, you will ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ be granted the title of Count."

When the words ended, the once jubilant atmosphere cooled instantly. It was as if someone had poured ice over it.

"What did you just say?"

The Marquis of Baisar trembled, repeating the question.

Marcus Baisar had to inherit the family. With this, he was supposed to receive the Duke’s title.

But by receiving the title of Count instead, he had kicked the succession to the family head aside.

Enkrid knew this was all Marcus Baisar’s doing.

A small uproar broke out, and the Marquis of Baisar wore a defeated expression.

Though the Marquis of Baisar had eventually sided with Crang, he hadn’t always done so.

After weighing his options, he had chosen to raise the gold coins.

That choice, too, was close to a gamble, but it wasn’t for Marcus.

The Marquis of Baisar stared at Marcus for a moment, shook his head, and closed his mouth.

Enkrid thought the old man looked like a sulking fool.

"Due to your great contributions, I grant you the title of Duke."

The Marquis of Octo became a Duke instead of Baisar. He knelt down and bowed his head.

At this point, those whose names had not yet been called were waiting for their rewards.

Enkrid and the Mad Platoon.

"I’d prefer to do it personally."

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The king rose from his throne. He took a step forward, not casting a glance at anyone around him, and spoke.

"Do you need a title?"

He spoke as if asking his neighbor if they needed firewood.

Enkrid thought, "Not really," and lightly shook his head in response.

His attitude was as if he had left all formalities behind, but who could say anything about it?

A few nobles frowned, but no one dared to speak out.

"I thought so. I’ve kept the report open, so if you want anything, you can take what you like."

"Thank you."

"Afterward, you’re free to return to where you were."

This was the moment Enkrid had been waiting for. However, some still looked at him with suspicion.

"Just opening the treasure vault?"

"Is this really the right thing?"

"What will happen to the hunting dogs after the hunt is over?"

"They’ll be eaten, of course."

Among the mutterings, there were a few who spoke nonsense, but neither Crang nor Enkrid paid any attention.

"I’m busy. I believe you all are as well. Just because the civil war is over doesn’t mean it’s ‘happily ever after,’ not even in fairy tales. You understand that, don’t you?"

In fairy tales, there are no war-torn battlefields. It was an obvious statement.

"So, let’s get to work."

The workaholic king spoke, and the award ceremony ended more simply than ever.

A luncheon was held. The alcohol was absent. Even the king did not attend.

"I’m worried about the king’s dignity."

A few nobles were still concerned about the king’s attitude, but Enkrid discarded such worries.

Hadn’t they already seen it at the memorial coronation?

Crang recited the names of the soldiers on the memorial plaque.

Enkrid looked at the people’s eyes that had been turned toward him at that time.

There was a monk quietly offering a prayer.

A mother was crying while watching the new king.

There were fathers and children.

Even the nobles who were properly loyal after the coronation knelt and swore allegiance.

Without any glow or grand celebrations, the coronation held in the middle of the capital engraved the new king in everyone’s hearts.

‘That’s all that matters.’

Enkrid moved with a light heart. The rest was something Crang would take care of.

It was time for him to return to the Border Guard. But before that, he needed to stop by the royal palace for a report.

How many swords could replace Silver?

"Here."

Even Rem and Ragna showed subtle interest in the royal palace report.

But it looked different from what they imagined. The doors were wide open, and carts were constantly coming and going.

"Ah, still a bit busy."

Marcus himself was the one guiding them. He was the commander-in-chief of the royal army, now a Count, acting as the deputy ruler of Molsen County, and responsible for the capital’s defense forces.

"Isn't it busy?"

"Well, you said you were just stopping by, so you should take a look now. There's no time to leisurely go out to meet anyone."

If he was busy, wasn't it fine to not meet him?

With that thought in mind, Enkrid stepped into the royal treasure chamber to take a look.

This was nothing like he had imagined.

The treasure vault was large, but it was mostly empty. There weren’t piles of gold coins, nor were there magical swords hanging in rows.

"Excuse me, just passing by!"

As a few carts loaded with boxes passed by Enkrid, the workers pulling the carts were sweating heavily and didn’t even glance at him.

Enkrid assessed the situation and quickly figured out what was going on.

Rem seemed to have figured it out too, and before Enkrid could say anything, he asked,

"Are they making up for the damage from the civil war here?"

Marcus nodded, thinking that his barbarian friend wasn’t a fool.

"What about the magical swords?"

Ragna, who thought about weapons that were either enchanted or had a will of their own, or ones that could breathe fire or ice, assumed that even if they were blunt, they’d still be sharp enough for practical use.

"Aren’t they here?"

"There are none."

"Why?"

Ragna’s words grew curt. Marcus didn’t mind their rudeness. After all, what was the point of arguing with a madman?

"They sold them all."

Ragna didn’t press further. If they weren’t there, what could be done?

‘No magical swords...’

Should he try infusing his sword with a will?

A genius’s thoughts were truly unconventional.

Enkrid looked around. There was nothing better than the longsword he had acquired while traveling through the training halls.

Not even a blade mixed with Valerisan steel was visible.

"I’m good."

Rem shook his head.

The true treasures of the kingdom had already been taken by knights and their orders, and the rest were deep in secret vaults within the royal palace. But those were items that couldn’t be given away.

They were national treasures.

Crang might have wanted to say, "Take that," but the sword and shield, or even the Staff of the Sun God, were considered national treasures.

Enkrid didn’t want them, nor could he use them.

"Poverty isn’t a crime," said Audin, who had never been interested in treasures.

Dunbakel, who preferred his own weapon, picked out a shin guard made from monster leather. That was probably the most useful thing. Teresa quietly nodded, following Audin’s lead.

"I haven’t done anything."

Teresa thought she hadn’t done anything remarkable on the battlefield.

She believed overreaching was a mistake.

"Please tell Crang I said goodbye."

Enkrid said as he walked out.

"Hmm, sure. You can at least say the king’s name. It seems good to stay friends with the king, the hero of the nation, the demon slayer, and the slayer of demons."

Marcus spoke freely without getting tangled up in formalities. He was quite free-thinking.

As long as he acted appropriately in public, there was no issue. Marcus didn’t think Enkrid would be foolish enough to misunderstand.

Enkrid finished preparing to leave and started moving.

He didn’t expect any grand farewell. They wouldn’t have the time for it.

Just look at how the royal treasure vault was being handled.

‘As long as the country doesn’t collapse, it’ll be fine.’

No, they must have opened the treasury to prevent the collapse.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t received anything at the award ceremony.

He hadn’t come expecting anything.

After checking on the oddball in the corner, Enkrid walked out through the outer roads of the capital, but halfway there, a group of Royal Guards blocked his way.

At the front was a man in a gray helmet.

‘A duel?’

Enkrid thought.

He was always disappointed when a skilled person left. Maybe the person in front of him felt the same way. Enkrid was ready to accept the challenge.

The Royal Guard captain, removing his gray helmet, knelt on one knee.

"Thanks to you, I’ve opened my eyes and am walking the right path."

He spoke and offered a gesture of respect.

Following him, all the Royal Guards kneeled in unison.

"For the hero of the nation!"

It couldn’t really be called a proper farewell.

Among them was Leorban, who had once known Enkrid.

Having had his contributions recognized on the battlefield, he had now been reassigned here.

"Long time no see."

As Enkrid passed by, he greeted him. Leorban had been one of the few to side with him. Even though time had passed, there were people you couldn’t forget.

Leorban bowed his head deeply.

"I’m ashamed."

Leorban said as he remembered his past, and Enkrid patted him on the shoulder and continued walking.

‘And for my brilliant hero as well.’

Leorban, no longer just a Royal Guard but now a swordsman, silently swore that if Enkrid ever called him, he would rush to his side.

Once all duties were fulfilled, he would do so if Enkrid wished.

Enkrid thought that would be the end of the farewell, but it wasn’t.

As they neared the city gates, a large crowd of citizens filled the streets.

From the noise, it seemed even more people had gathered than during the memorial coronation.

"For the hero of the nation!"

The citizens of the capital watched him leave. It was as if a promise had been made. Among them were healers who had lost their sons, Andrew, and some trainees.

As soon as the award ceremony was over, he had guessed they would come.

Having received land, Andrew, even though he would be busy now, had come out to see him off.

"I knew you’d leave soon."

Andrew approached and spoke.

"I don’t have anything left to do here."

"We’ll meet again, right?"

"Come visit."

"Yes."

As Enkrid exchanged a brief farewell with Andrew, Eshia and the captain of the south gate patrol approached.

"Are you leaving like this?"

The captain spoke, and Eshia reached out her hand. Enkrid took her hand.

"See you again."

It was a simple farewell. The captain bowed, grateful.

Eshia only shook his hand and didn’t say much.

Hearing the cheers of the kingdom’s people, Rem gave a teasing remark.

"At least wave your hand."

Following Rem’s suggestion, Enkrid waved.

"Demon slayer!"

"Hero of the nation!"

"Take me!"

Why is it always people asking to be taken?

Enkrid thought this as he waved his hand some more.

The cheers grew louder.

WAAAAAH!

The roar of the crowd was even louder than the cheers Enkrid had heard on the battlefield. It was a pleasant feeling. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"A noble slayer," Rem muttered, and Enkrid chuckled as he made his way out of the capital.

Now, it was time to really head back...

"Let’s go only halfway."

It was as they were nearing the outskirts of the capital. A few people blocked their way in the middle of the main road.

At the forefront was—

"Aren’t you the king?"

"Does the king only work and live like that?"

It was Crang.

Enkrid had thought there would be no more farewells, but this was truly a noisy farewell.