A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

In distant places — somewhere around Naurillia — there were nobles who did not believe in Enkrid’s fame. No, rather than not believing, they thought perhaps some exaggeration was mixed in.

Hearing bards sing about the "Song of the Iron Wall" and "The Knight Who Stood Alone Against a Thousand," it simply didn't sound believable. They said he drew a line on the ground with a burning sword, and a wall of flames rose up before it.

There were some who composed songs that detailed Enkrid’s deeds a bit more accurately, but these kinds of stories always spread better when they were exaggerated and made no sense.

Fantasy had to be mixed in, after all. It was an era where people entertained themselves by watching hangings; such tales were delightful amusement.

Some people from faraway lands only half believed, or even less. The truly naïve believed that Enkrid actually wielded a flaming sword. But inside Border Guard, Enkrid’s fame soared endlessly.

There were those who had fought directly on the battlefield, and there were their families.

All of them spread Enkrid’s name. It was as if they had witnessed the birth of a true hero.

Slaying a thousand alone would be monstrous, but stopping a thousand, sweating instead of bleeding, and ending the battle — that was Enkrid.

Among those present there, not a single person failed to chant Enkrid’s name.

"I’m going to grow up and become the Knight of the Iron Wall!"

The streets were filled with children shouting like that.

With all that going on, how must the soldiers have viewed Enkrid? Just being in his presence should have been an honor.

And now, that hero declared he would join their training. A knight — no, the Knight of the Iron Wall himself, a ruler over an entire region — was joining the soldiers' running drills.

Even the so-called Mad Platoon was participating.

Every soldier was nervous and excited.

Some had trained with Enkrid in the past, but even they momentarily forgot those memories.

Even those who ground their teeth at the name Audin didn’t think Enkrid would drive people with such ferocity.

Fame ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ had a way of putting blinders on people’s eyes.

Thus, what happened next was unexpected.

Especially for Clemenсе, who had decided to enlist only after Enkrid had left for the west.

Even though there had been no full-scale battle, she had twisted her ankle all by herself. She hadn’t been embarrassed about it either.

Back then, fueled by excitement, she had seen nothing but Enkrid’s back, the wall, and the stopped enemy.

"I heard you’re the soldier who got hurt falling over alone."

It was before that great knight came to her and said those words.

"Huh? Oh, Clemenсе from the infantry division, sir!"

"Ah, this is the one? The friend who scraped her knee in a battle where no one else got hurt?"

"I heard it was a twisted ankle," said Rem, and Jaxon chimed in.

Audin followed, laughing as he spoke.

"Did you hurt yourself falling, sister? Is there something wrong with your ankle?"

"Does that even make sense?"

Even Pell joined in with a jab, and then Rophod said, "Even I can’t side with you on this one," looking at her.

Clemenсе felt her mind go blank.

What is this? Are they mocking me for falling by myself? No one had said anything before.

Enkrid smoothly picked up the conversation.

"It’s because of a lack of stamina. From today on, we will begin mountain runs."

The soldiers’ expressions, especially the veteran ones, hardened as memories surfaced.

Come to think of it, Enkrid was a training maniac.

Not only was he harsh on himself, but he was also harsh on those around him.

Thus, instead of running on the usual training grounds or the fields behind the city, their course changed to the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

Of course, they weren’t crossing through the heart of the mountains, but still — going into a forest half-filled with monsters and beasts just for training?

Recently, Border Guard’s army had killed so many creatures that the monsters had started gathering into colonies.

That wasn’t just a rumor — it had actually happened. It was common for monster and beast packs to form colonies within mountain ranges.

The packs Enkrid had once slain while on patrol had been just like that.

"Aren’t you running? Does everyone have ankle problems like Clemenсе?"

At Enkrid’s single remark, everyone began running.

It was the start of a run where breaks were thrown to the dogs. They ran to the brink of death, and any monsters or beasts that jumped out were just bonus hazards.

"Don’t stop. If you stop, you’re dead."

The knight units handled the bonus hazards. Not fought — handled.

"Go to the side of God!"

Audin’s punches showed overwhelming force that no one dared challenge.

Even without that, anyone who had seen battle knew better than to pick a fight with these knights.

Some soldiers thought it was educational to see knights fight up close, but that thought didn’t last long.

They started running before sunrise, and by the time they returned under the evening glow, some wondered if this was even real.

Especially Clemenсе, who was mentally drained.

"Does everyone want to fall over like Clemenсе?"

Enkrid would shout.

"Do you want to get hurt like Sister Clemenсе? I’ll kindly dislocate your ankle for you, brother. Just say the word."

Audin, that man, kept opening his mouth whenever the mood seemed to quiet down, and his voice boomed across the group.

"You might get hurt even without fighting, but let’s not get injured because of lack of stamina! Run, Clemenсе!"

Even Rophod, their former training instructor, joined in.

"Why do you think Clemenсе or whoever fell down? If you ask me, it’s because she lacks talent."

The final blow came from Pell — and Clemenсе hated that bastard the most.

"You don’t even have the talent to run. No — you lack the talent to simply stand. If you’re lacking, put in effort. E-f-f-o-r-t."

He said it with a straight face, without the slightest hint of a smile. She wanted to kill him. Really.

Clemenсе endured it.

Of course, no one was doing this just to bully a single soldier. Clemenсе was merely a catalyst. An excuse to push the training even harder.

Most commanders understood this, so they treated Clemenсе kindly in the background.

Rophod especially made sure the squad took care of her. He knew how to look after his men in different ways.

Originally, he had been clumsy and awkward, but his time in the Mad Platoon had trained him to do such things naturally.

If no one else would, he had to.

Same with Audin — those guys didn’t know how to do anything except push people until they dropped.

Moreover, it wasn’t just training for the sake of training. There was still time left before they would go to the royal palace. And while individual training mattered, the goal was to raise the entire unit’s ability.

Kraiss explained the fastest way to raise an army’s strength like this:

"Separation by branch. Dividing the unit by each specialty. We’re already doing it, but picking out the exceptionally talented ones takes a lot of work. Making new units with them and organizing them properly also takes a lot of effort."

Among the soldiers, there were plenty who, by ability alone, exceeded normal standards.

Border Guard’s name had spread across the entire continent. The nearby regions were overwhelmed with its fame.

Even corrupt priests who tried to settle here found it hard to push their religions into Border Guard.

Enkrid himself was practically a religion inside Border Guard.

Thus, priests who relied on true faith rather than seeking profit managed to hold on.

As fame rose, so naturally did the number of people who flocked to them.

And just as the priests were filtered out, so were the swordbearers.

There were those who came just for the high pay, but it was impossible to endure here if that was all they sought.

The standing army’s training intensity was brutal — so brutal that people couldn’t help but wonder if this place was hell itself.

Because of this, all sorts of people had gathered. There were quite a few giant-blooded hybrids besides Teresa. Several Frok were seen as well, along with many fairies, dwarves, and beastkin.

Enkrid believed that you couldn’t judge a person's skill just by looking. Broadly speaking, you could feel something from them, but more precisely, you had to observe their stamina, swordsmanship, posture, and even their attitude.

That was what he was doing now. Pushing them to their limits and running them hard, watching their behavior.

Well, honestly, half of it was for the fun of teasing the injured soldier. If she had shriveled up in shame, he would have stopped, but she clenched her teeth and fought through it.

Whenever Clemence’s name came up, a few soldiers grimaced. Some hotheaded and short-sighted ones thought this brutal training was happening because of Clemence.

Rem picked out a few of them.

"You’re out. Fall back and join the others over there."

Enkrid had ordered each officer to select the soldiers they liked or who felt promising and train them separately. Rem, using that standard, picked the rough, violent ones — the ones he wanted to beat up, the ones who would still bare their fangs even after taking a beating.

That was his preference. It was easier to teach by beating them senseless.

Audin picked mainly the devout ones — the ones who called out for the Lord and the Father even while running.

Physical condition could be overcome with training, but sincerity couldn’t be forced.

Both judged the basics, of course, but their standards differed.

Teresa also picked a few, only choosing those with big builds like herself — giant-blooded hybrids, naturally strong ones, or those born with large frames.

Soldiers who had grown up being called warriors in their hometowns.

Rophod looked purely at technique. When fighting monsters during the runs, everyone's habits would surface. When you're exhausted, your body defaults to its ingrained habits.

Pell was uncomfortable with group training. He had been a shepherd, not a soldier. So he declined any direct command, and Enkrid didn’t press him.

Why force someone to do what they hated? This attitude hadn’t changed since the days when Enkrid first became commander of the Mad Squad.

Maybe that’s why people couldn’t help but admire him. Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, and Audin all knew what a mess Enkrid had been in the beginning.

Had Enkrid changed? Sure, some things had changed. But fundamentally, he remained the same.

Even now, he had become a knight, even now, after ending a war with Azpen and closing the gap in skill with his peers.

Jaxon was too busy handling his own subordinates and opted out. Shinar originally commanded the scouts, so her group naturally became her direct unit.

The most peculiar case was Esther, who wasn’t here — she had already formed her own unit.

She had selected a few soldiers with magical talent and trained them. Kraiss even named them the Magic Infantry.

Whatever her reasons, Esther had trained them diligently. Their number had grown close to twenty.

"Run."

Enkrid said as he marked a few soldiers with his eyes. Those who clenched their teeth and refused to show even a hint of weakness.

Skill, talent — all of that was set aside. He was looking only at attitude.

Everyone had their own standards.

One day, two days, three days, four days passed. Some of the Border Guard’s standing army gave up on their enlistment.

It was inevitable.

"This is madness."

Why endure such training?

The surprising thing was, among those picked by the Mad Squad members, not a single one quit.

Maybe their eye for people was sharp after all.

Well, for the ones Rem picked, it was more that even if they wanted to quit, they couldn’t.

"You lot are the Axe Unit from today. Everyone uses axes."

Rem declared right from the start.

"Why are you making us use axes? Damn it, I’ve used a spear my whole life!"

"And you still suck at fighting?"

Rem was brutal. But he backed it up with action. An axe was a short weapon. Shorter than a sword, much shorter than a spear.

But in close quarters, its destructive power was overwhelming.

The ones Rem had picked all had nasty tempers. Whether armed with spears or anything else, they had a habit of rushing straight in.

If you’re just going to brute-force charge with a spear bent under strain, why bother with a spear?

Rem wasn’t the type to kindly explain that. He just beat them senseless.

"When I say do it, just do it."

Anyone trying to run? Rem wasn’t about to let them.

"Run and you’re dead."

Saying that, he even showed real killing intent. Everyone shut up immediately.

It wasn’t like they could complain about the harsh training either.

And truthfully, everyone internally agreed. Training with the axe, their skills really were improving.

"Hey, want to learn some spells too?"

Rem even got a bit greedy. He figured if he taught them a few spells, it might be useful.

But that’s where a problem arose. These guys weren’t Enkrid.

Not everyone would keep trying until they succeeded.

"Just form the damn sigil like this! Why can’t you do it?"

Also, Rem wasn’t exactly gifted at teaching either.

Watching the whole situation, Kraiss wished he had more capable people.

'Rophod’s good at this, though.'

The others were closer to just torturing the soldiers.

Among them, Rophod was the most ideal.

Though from an outsider’s view, even he seemed to be pushing too hard.

Some soldiers complained, wondering why they had to train this hard when there was no immediate war.

But Kraiss, almost as if he had foreseen it, pushed them into the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

'When there’s a perfect real combat training ground right behind us, why not use it?'

There was no reason not to.

Even though he was busy with the treaty with Azpen, Kraiss knew all too well that unless preparations were made ahead of time, nothing ever went right.

Especially when it came to raising an army.

Even if you provided perfect equipment, if they lacked mental strength or had weak legs and collapsed like Clemence, there would be no saving them.

Drills and basic training were important, but when real fighting came, victory or defeat would depend on the unit’s training and the soldiers’ strength.

At this point, Clemence had practically become a proper noun.

"Fall behind, and you’ll be the next Fallen Clemence!"

That kind of joke was now common.

And Clemence gritted her teeth and kept training, eventually being selected for Enkrid’s personal guard unit.

"Phew, I’ll get promoted and beat the crap out of everyone."

She had gained toughness and venom.

A month flew by.

Honestly, it was spent entirely on training.

After the war, there had been a few festival-like days, but it was just a brief moment.

"Then, I’ll leave things to you while I’m gone."

Before leaving, Enkrid entrusted Pell with the care of his personal guards. During training, Pell had acted like his deputy, so it was a natural fit.

It was finally time to head to the royal palace.

"Safe journey."

Graham and Kraiss came to see them off. Enkrid, Rem, and Audin set out together.

Ragna stayed behind due to injury, and Jaxon shook his head — clearly not intending to join.

Shinar seemed completely absorbed in training her unit lately, and Esther’s intentions remained unclear.

Thus, the three of them set out for the palace.

Unlike last time, when they had gone to the capital, the journey now had a completely different atmosphere.

It was the power of the safe road built by Crang and Kraiss.