A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"Weakling. Go die. Crawl here by yourself if you have to."

As if it had been prearranged, they’d gathered in one place—Rem, instead of an axe, used his tongue to corner Ragna.

"Cough."

Just as he was about to speak, Ragna coughed and raised his hand, flipping his middle finger—a curse with an ancient tradition across the continent. Rem nodded solemnly, as if convinced of something.

"Boss, now’s the time. Take his head off. You could slice it clean without much damage if you do it now."

He mimicked chopping his own neck with the side of his hand.

Anyone listening might think Enkrid and Rem had agreed beforehand to kill Ragna no matter what.

Rem hadn’t even asked what had happened before cursing Ragna. When asked about it, Ragna said one of the two knights had escaped. Hearing that, Jaxon chuckled.

He even let out a deliberate pfft, the sound of air escaping, just to make sure it was heard—no doubt he intended to mock. Enkrid was confident enough to bet at least a finger that that was the case.

"Let’s kill that bastard too."

Rem urged Enkrid to just kill them all, but of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

"Finn, go on ahead and report the situation. We’ll catch up to the main force from here."

"Yes, sir!"

Finn only half-listened to what they were saying, and completely forgot his fear of Jaxon or any doubts about the current situation.

Why? Because the people before him were writing a legend.

It might even be the birth of a legend.

Barnas Hurrier—that was a name even she had heard before. And they said Ragna had cut him down single-handedly.

Cypress of Naurillia. Barnas of Azpen.

Just twenty years ago, you couldn’t talk about the military might of either country without mentioning their names.

Finn had known that while out scouting, there was a possibility Barnas the knight might appear on this battlefield.

But that didn’t mean he had accepted defeat.

If luck’s on our side, and more than two mad knights are involved, we might have a chance.

He hadn’t been able to assess knight-level combat strength properly, but thoughts like that had crossed his mind—and yet Ragna had taken him down alone. He’d been seriously wounded, but their side had won.

What remained before Finn now was a corpse, lying alone.

Even without the insignia of the Azpen Royal Knights carved into the equipment wrapped around the body, the gouged earth and splattered blood alone told him how fierce and brutal the fight had been.

Monster.

That man called Ragna was a monster. Just like Jaxon—no different.

"I can still fight."

And he’s insane. Just look at what he’s saying.

"Come on, barbarian."

He vomited blood from injured organs, and those were the two words he managed to force out.

"You little shit, I let you off once."

Maybe it was a blessing that the equally insane Rem hadn’t swung his axe.

Or maybe it was because Enkrid was subtly standing between the two of them.

It was impressive that he had killed Barnas on his own, but Barnas wasn’t the only one Azpen had sent.

There was a man who’d single-handedly slaughtered the entire Fairy Company, and Rem had fought two knights as well.

And above all, Enkrid—who led them all—had slain one knight himself.

They talked crazy, but they never lied.

Everything they said so casually was probably the truth.

Finn, having received Enkrid’s order, moved first.

They’d tried all kinds of tactics to prevent a full-scale war, but if they really wanted to stop the fight, they would need these people.

So Finn ignored his fatigue and started running.

After Finn and his unit had left, Enkrid pointed with his finger across the mountain range.

"We’re linking up with the main ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) force."

***

Enkrid suggested taking a rougher path to rejoin the main unit, and his reason was simple: just because.

If someone had asked, that’s all he could’ve said. It was a feeling—intuition.

Getting back quickly was good, but crossing the mountain range directly?

"He needs treatment."

Shinar spoke. She didn’t have to say who—it was obvious.

Rem and Jaxon both turned their heads in the same direction.

"The baggage, huh."

Jaxon muttered.

"Why not just bury him and come back for him tomorrow?"

Rem followed up on the thought.

At times like this, the two of them seemed to be in perfect sync.

What would happen if those two actually teamed up in battle?

If Rem fought mercilessly by instinct, Jaxon had the sensory skills to fill in the gaps.

They actually might make a good match.

"That look of yours is suspicious again."

"A very unpleasant gaze."

Both of them responded at the same time, their instincts sharp.

Enkrid turned his gaze to Ragna, who spoke.

"Spit’ll fix it."

His knee, shoulder, even some internal organs were damaged, and his eye was injured too.

If spit could heal wounds like those, then there’d be no need for divine power in the world. Healers might as well quit studying and just wander around hawking loogies.

"Get on."

Enkrid crouched down in front of Ragna.

"...Seriously?"

Shinar asked again. She figured there was no need to rush—so why the trouble?

"No harm in getting there quickly."

Enkrid answered nonchalantly.

"Seriously?"

"For real?"

Rem and Jaxon each added a word, then clicked their tongues at the wounded Ragna.

Tsk.

"I now understand that killing those two and burying my sword here is the path to peace for the continent."

Ragna snapped, clearly provoked. But it wasn’t like he could physically fight back right now.

"Get on."

What else could he do?

If Enkrid insisted, it was going to happen.

Shinar lifted Ragna and placed him on Enkrid’s back. Enkrid carried him down the mountain.

The Pen-Hanil range was said to be dangerous—but not for them.

"The one who got away?"

Enkrid asked as they descended.

"Sigh."

Next to him, Jaxon reflexively sighed. Rem glared at him before answering.

"Well, he was all curled up. Probably ran back to the main unit, don’t you think?"

Enkrid didn’t ask what exactly had curled up, but he did hear Shinar mumble behind him, "His balls."

It was a variation on a fairy joke, delivered just loud enough to gauge reactions.

It was probably meant to provoke him, but Enkrid didn’t react.

He just heard an annoying sound.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The only reason he heard it before the fairy did was because he’d activated Will and had been listening with sharpened senses.

"Jaxon."

"I’m going ahead."

He heard the tremor of the earth, the shuddering air, the distant roar of voices.

That’s why Jaxon dashed out first.

His figure disappeared between the trees.

They’d nearly crossed the entire mountain range.

Rem snorted and said,

"I’ll clear the path."

The air reeked of monsters and beasts. Rem stepped aside and began swinging his axe.

Crunch, squelch, crack!

The sound of bones and muscle being cleaved and broken rang in Enkrid’s ears.

Shinar, mid-run, narrowed her eyes.

The sun was slowly dipping toward the west. It wasn’t quite sunset, but the falling light cast long shadows.

As they descended the mountain, the situation came into view.

Uooooooh!

The enemy was charging.

Shinar saw it clearly—what was about to unfold.

Blood wouldn’t just pool—it would flow.

Through the center of a battlefield littered with thousands of corpses, blood would form rivers.

To charge meant needing madness. The battlefield demanded it.

Azpen made up for their plummeting morale with sheer madness.

"Yeeehaw!"

It began with a beastkin shock corps, accepted from beyond Azpen’s northern frontier as part of their interspecies unification policy.

The allied army didn’t charge back.

Still, the clash between the two was inevitable—like the flow of time itself.

Just like how today ends and tomorrow comes—it was an immutable law.

Enkrid set Ragna down.

“We’re at the base of the mountain. There are no monsters here, so hold out.”

“You’ll need my sword.”

“No. Stay put. I’ll come back for you.”

Enkrid said this, then looked ahead.

Why were the enemy suddenly charging from the front?

He didn’t know. And he didn’t need to.

No one had commanded this, and there was no predetermined outcome—but Enkrid knew what he had to do.

“Shinar!”

He shouted as he kicked off the ground and descended. At first, the pace seemed moderate—but it quickly accelerated.

Boom! Boom!

Holding nothing back, each step shattered the ground beneath him, sending dirt and rock bursting up like fountains.

It was a reckless and ferocious charge. Anyone could tell that this wasn’t a normal man approaching—it was a monster.

Behind him, Shinar followed with agile movements. Then, Rem—having just split the heads of a few monsters—joined in as well.

“Jaxon!”

“Too late!”

Jaxon’s voice came in response to Enkrid’s shout. He’d only called his name, but Jaxon understood the meaning behind it.

It was the answer to the unspoken question: Can you stop them?

While running, Enkrid asked himself a question. In the brief moment when his left foot lifted from the ground and touched down again, blood rushed to his head and thoughts accelerated.

Is there a way to stop this charging army?

If their numbers were even, yes. Even if outnumbered, depending on the level of training, they could hold the line.

But that would come at the cost of countless lives.

Any other way?

What about overwhelming violence?

A knight is a monster who can face a thousand alone. What if there weren’t just one, but three such monsters?

It might serve as a deterrent.

This wasn’t a decision born of calculation.

Enkrid could only see people dying meaningless deaths.

No glory, no honor, no fame—just slaughter.

Only the song of steel would greet them, and at the end, they would drown in a black river of blood.

Those who glorify death would welcome such carnage.

But not Enkrid.

To die and to kill is to determine victory—but this? This was death without meaning.

The war was already over.

No matter where or why this conflict had flared up again, he would stop it.

His will turned into belief, and belief into power—it flared within his body. Enkrid felt Will overflowing.

“Audin!”

He shouted, but that alone wasn’t enough to unleash the Will building up inside him. Amidst the chaos, it was unlikely Audin had heard his voice.

Enkrid inhaled again. Then, with all the Will boiling inside him, he shouted with intent.

Let it ring loud.

Let it reach all ears.

“AU—DIN!”

What he lacked in finesse, he made up for in force. Enkrid poured out his overflowing Will.

It was like thunder carrying a name.

And the one who bore that name came bursting out from one side.

“Yes, brother! Audin is here!”

“Block them!”

Enkrid saw something like glimmering dots. Scattered across the battlefield, those dots shone.

They weren’t actually shining. His intuition was responding to his flaring Will and showing him—what? Where he needed to block.

First, the far right of the battlefield. Enkrid pointed between two points where the opposing armies were about to collide.

“Teresa, help him!”

At his command, Audin and Teresa moved to intercept.

But how would they block it?

What was needed was overwhelming violence.

Audin suppressed the desire to awaken divine power, clenched his fists, and swung.

Bang!

No one could ignore that sight. Two men flew into the air from the sheer force of the blow.

If he’d wanted to kill, he would have crushed them. He launched them instead—to draw attention.

Audin had understood Enkrid’s will. Teresa, at his side, had as well. She swung her shield.

With a wide arc, the shield bashed the enemies aside.

People flew like pebbles.

Had they left it alone, the two armies would have clashed before anyone could count to a hundred.

“Rem!”

“I ain’t deaf!”

“There!”

Enkrid pointed to another spot. It formed a line, extending from where Audin stood.

They had to show overwhelming destruction—to freeze the enemy in place.

“Oh, I see what you’re trying to do.”

The sharp fairy, Shinar, grasped it instantly and dashed to where she needed to be.

Her position: opposite of Rem, beyond the battlefield’s center.

After taking her spot, she called out,

“Come this far, and I’ll shrink you down to size.”

It might’ve seemed like a joke, even now—but for Shinar, it was how she showed she wasn’t panicking.

They weren’t reduced to dust, and Ragna had faced Barnas, so they had that much stamina left.

“Jaxon, Rophod, Peld! Over there!”

Jaxon alone wasn’t the type to hold off a large force. So he added two more to him to hold the line.

Still, there was a massive hole in the front line. Only Enkrid could see it.

A hole that would spill blood if left unchecked.

While running, Enkrid shouted. Then he took a deep breath, calmed his lungs, and stopped.

Behind him, allies. Before him, enemies.

Half of them were looking at him in confusion as they charged. The other half charged without thought.

Normally, now would be the moment to show what it meant to be a knight.

From where Audin stood, he would station others who could cut down a thousand alone, grinding the enemy to a halt.

That would be the way to stop this with the least bloodshed.

That’s what he’d thought just moments ago.

What makes people stop in their tracks?

The thought continued as lights danced before his eyes. Enkrid clearly separated what he could and could not do.

Among the things he thought he couldn’t do—now he believed he could.

The overflowing Will gave him a sense of omnipotence.

To stop someone’s steps, what you need isn’t violence—it’s fear.

If fear was needed, he would give it.

Like bursting a dam to release water, Enkrid released his Will in an apparently meaningless wave. It overflowed.

Using that Will, Enkrid built a wall behind himself. Then, he raised his sword and dragged it along the ground.

Skreeeeech!

The blade carved a long line into the earth.

Cross this line and die.

He imbued that line with Will. The line on the ground was his declaration.

Pouring out all his Will, he created a pressure that built a wall behind him.

Enkrid’s pressure was survivable even for those of quasi-knight rank.

So it wasn’t a deep point—but it could cover a wide surface.

The overflowing Will and his aura worked together.

Enkrid had seen countless walls blocking his path. Now, he showed the same kind of wall to the enemy ahead of him.

And just because you see a wall, doesn’t mean you can cross it.

Madness dulled.

Faced with fear, feet slowed, hands lowered.

A wall? There’s a wall?

If we charge, we’ll die.

We can’t cross that line.

The formless wall Enkrid created now stood wide and even, delivering fear to the enemy.

Those who managed to overcome the pressure and move forward—those who still tried to fight—were crushed by Enkrid’s Mad Squad.

“This is as far as you go.”

Enkrid said, and a picture-perfect scene unfolded.

The charging enemy stopped.

“Ah...”

Whether it was fear or something else, the frontmost enemies dropped to their knees.

Not just one or two. Dozens, hundreds fell to their knees or collapsed.

The sunlight slanting westward gathered its last rays and shone on Enkrid.

From the man holding his sword upright, light seemed to radiate.

In truth, it was just sunlight falling on the man standing alone. But since everyone was looking at him, it could only feel mystical.

There are knights who cut down a thousand alone—but none who made a thousand halt alone.

“Enough.”

Enkrid finished.

The war was over.