A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Whether Roman was bewildered or not, Jaxen let Rem' s nonsense and Shinar' s assertions pass in one ear and out the other as he opened up his senses.

All five senses twisted and tangled, just like when entering Demonic Domains.

' Let' s just assume this place is a Demonic Domain now too.'

Even if his senses became a bit confused, the blade he honed would not be dulled so easily.

' Where could the Captain be?'

There was an answer to that question.

' Beelrog, Demonic Domain.'

Jaxen sharpened the edge of his senses, seeking out the most dangerous spot.

He knew the human called Enkrid.

That man was the type to walk straight into the hardest and most perilous place on purpose.

Jaxen' s gaze turned toward a passageway that gaped like the maw of a giant monster, filled with darkness.

There weren' t any stalactites, but the area had transformed into something akin to a vast cavernous chamber.

' This is the center of the passageways.'

Multiple tunnels stretched out in all directions from this place.

And among them, Jaxen' s senses located the spot that felt the most sinister and menacing.

Will, interwoven with his senses, surged and burned as he reached this conclusion.

Simply sensing and identifying it consumed Will.

This was proof that fighting or doing anything inside here wouldn' t be easy.

But did that mean they should retreat?

No, it didn' t.

Jaxen hadn' t shown any real reaction, but someone abruptly cut in beside him.

"Hey. You' ve found it, right?"

Just as Jaxen knew the Captain, Rem understood the Stray Cat' s specialty.

If it was this guy, he' d know the way.

He' d find it no matter what.

It made Rem miss Dunbakel a bit.

If Dunbakel had transformed into her beast form, she would probably have found it by scent.

Well, if the Stray Cat could fill the gap left by the Prisoner, that was good enough.

Jaxen thought for a very brief moment.

He wasn' t in perfect condition right now, but even so, the Barbarian' s stone-throwing could still come in handy.

What he' d seen earlier was definitely impressive.

"I don' t really like those eyes of yours."

At the Barbarian' s keen comment, Jaxen casually turned his gaze elsewhere.

While the two of them were talking, Ropord glanced back and asked,

"Are you suggesting we all fall back?"

The one who answered was Luagarne.

"We can' t do that. We have to stop them, too."

The frog spoke the most reasonable answer for their current situation.

What would happen if they let the horde come pouring in?

The Villagers left behind would be slaughtered.

Securing a retreat and keeping the rear clear was a basic rule of fighting.

Luagarne knew that rushing in as a group wasn' t always the best plan.

"Ropord, Fel, and Teresa stay. I' ll stay too."

Her voice was clear and resolute.

There was no hint of a reckless call to die together.

In short, this meant Rem, Audin, Jaxen, and Shinar would move forward.

As Roman listened in, he felt an urge to scratch his ear—or really, to protest:

Was this really the right call?

' Even after seeing all that, they' re splitting up the team?'

***

Crackle.

Whether it was a cave or whatever it had turned into, the torches set up here and there ensured there wasn' t a lack of light sources.

The torchlight lining the walls illuminated the area well.

Even in the glow, you could see the masters of the Black Mist, cloaked in deep darkness, drawing near.

"Hey, everything up to now, that was just a warm-up."

The voice, deep and resonant, shook the air even though it wasn' t shouted.

It sounded nothing like a human' s.

Even among the mindless ones, a few stood out with an unmistakable presence.

Just by looking, you could tell—they would be tough opponents.

This Giant, a member of a race known for being considered beast kins with red blood, was at least two heads taller than Audin and had arms thicker than most grown men' s thighs.

It looked like he hadn' t bathed in days or maybe even months; his greasy hair was matted, and when he spoke, you caught a glimpse of pitch-black teeth.

"Go ahead," Teresa said.

Even as the deep, echoing voice lingered in the air, she disregarded it completely.

The Giant, who had been stomping forward and shaking the ground, now wore a vicious expression.

His eyebrows shot up, his jaw muscles bulged as he clenched his teeth.

They were close enough now that you could read his face, close enough that he could lunge at them.

Behind him, a formation of warriors stood in ranks like an army, armed with swords, spears, maces, axes, and more.

The Giant looked every bit the general leading his troops.

"No, wait a—" Roman started, making a move to stop them.

"Mm, had a nice nap," said Lazybones, who had managed to enjoy a restful sleep through all the chaos, eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

As Lazybones calmly stretched, Rem accidentally muttered under his breath without realizing it.

"This crazy bastard, I should have just let him die."

You could tell he meant every word, even without emphasis.

There was real venom in his words—a genuine curse.

"What about the Captain?"

And that was the first thing he said upon standing up.

"Oh, looks like he couldn' t find the way back to us. I' ll take the lead and deliver us to him."

And after quickly sizing up the situation, that' s what he said next.

"You should just follow quietly, Brother."

Audin, unable to watch any longer, stepped in.

Rem remained completely silent.

Before he could say anything, his axe would have moved first anyway.

"This way."

Jaxen moved indifferently, as if he didn' t care what anyone said, and Shinar followed close behind.

"You—little—punks!"

The ignored Giant roared.

"This bastard is loud."

Ropord and Fel plugged their ears at the sound.

Their nonchalant attitude showed not a hint of fear or tension.

"What the hell…"

Roman muttered to himself.

It was hard to adjust to the current situation.

Seeing them up close, he realized that calling them madmen didn' t even begin to explain it.

He felt like he' d been thrown right into the middle of chaos.

They could die at any moment.

So how could they act like this?

Not that it was directed at him, but Fel answered the unspoken question.

"Keep your eyes wide open and try to keep up, shy Ropord. I plan on surviving today too and climbing even higher."

Ropord immediately shot back.

"Who' s shy, huh? Simple-minded Fel, you better keep up with me. I was always the one at the front."

As the two bickered, the Half-blood Giant, Teresa, passed between them and said,

"Save your energy, boys. Even talking wears you out."

Watching this, Luagarne puffed her cheeks and grinned.

"Ha ha. This is the day this Frog will push past her limits!"

A Whip of Flame, a single Loop Sword, unorthodox tactics and strategic movements.

Even if she used all those things as weapons, there wasn' t much Luagarne could really do against a true knight.

Still, she wanted to push forward.

She had no lack of desire, more than enough experience, and now the perfect opportunity had arrived.

"If I can' t overcome this, I' ll die."

Hearing her repeat those words, Roman came to his own realization.

"We might die. You know this is almost reckless, right?"

Those were the words a comrade had said to him before they left the City of Oara.

Yeah, everything began because they wanted to move forward, to climb higher.

That had been his mindset right before he fell to the Parasitic Beast.

The resolve he' d forgotten for a moment filled him once again, and Will moved on its own.

Roman understood, instinctively, that even if he survived this moment, even if he got out alive, it didn' t mean he would suddenly become a knight.

' But does that really matter?'

What mattered was never losing the will to keep going right now.

Why did Rem and the others leave?

It was because they all knew Enkrid was in danger.

Their commander would be somewhere even more perilous, more treacherous than here.

That' s why they moved.

Not that they planned to leave without lifting a finger here, of course.

"Let' s take a slight detour then, Brothers and Sister."

It was Audin who spoke.

If they just left like this, it would be far too cruel to those still behind.

Without even looking back, Jaxen nodded.

The group adjusted their course, moving slightly toward the mass of Wraiths.

"Ahhh!"

A Giant charged from the front, but its head was shattered by the corner of Teresa' s shield, and it collapsed.

Twisting her body, she swung the shield like a bludgeon.

Her movements and strikes were unexpectedly light for someone of her size.

Teresa was ready to reveal everything she had kept hidden.

Thus, the fight began anew.

***& nbsp;

Of course, this would happen again and again—countless times.

For Enkrid, days like this repeated endlessly.

Within that endlessly repeating day, Enkrid now faced the Dullahan, going over his name one more time.

"Dorapa?"

"…How do you know my name? No, it' s not Dorapa—it' s Donafa!"

He really couldn' t control his emotions.

Even in that state, he was skilled enough to nearly overwhelm Enkrid with a single, perilous strike.

Of course, Enkrid deliberately spoke to him before he could channel his full power, putting Donafa off guard.

Then Enkrid closed the distance, weaving together flashes and thrusts, repeatedly striking his head with a series of flashes that built into lightning, ultimately slicing his body into four pieces.

Donafa' s head was left hanging from the tip of Dawnforged as if it were a trophy.

When Enkrid shook his sword, scattering the divided pieces, the head—now all that was left of Donafa—let out a shrill shriek.

"My name is Donafa! Do! Na! Fa!"

With that final outburst, he dissolved into the Black Mist, leaving behind only granular specks like grains of sand before vanishing.

' Was I a bit too quick?'

He had killed his first opponent before they could even draw their dual short swords, and he dispatched this one—Dorapa or Donafa, whatever he was called—just as swiftly after he encountered the Dullahan.

Because of that, it seemed, the third opponent with a single-edged sword, who should have appeared immediately, did not show up.

But even if they didn' t come, Enkrid could just take the initiative himself, so he strode forward confidently.

Knowing what would happen here and what lay ahead, there was no hesitation in his steps.

He walked through the shadowed corridor and soon encountered the next opponent—the one who would appear like a signpost on his path.

"What are you?"

The new opponent was caught off guard.

Enkrid saw no need to ask or answer questions, so he immediately pressed the assault.

By starting on the offensive, he forced the opponent—whose strength lay in counterattacks—onto the defensive, making the fight even easier than on the first day.

He used an unorthodox move, hooking the opponent' s foot to break his balance and then stole the man' s signature technique, following up by splitting his head open.

Even after his head had been severed, the opponent managed the feat of speaking through his sliced mouth and head.

"You again."

Enkrid had no interest in whatever the man wanted to say.

Moving forward, he could see an old acquaintance by the campfire, her sword leaning at an angle.

The knight whose name had become that of a city looked at Enkrid.

The Ferryman had gotten involved, but this was a place under the power of a Demon.

Was it possible that they, too, had been forced to repeat that day together?

Oara abruptly shot down the thought that came out of nowhere.

"Oh, you' ve came."

Her eyes were no different from the last "today"—surprised, but with a hint of anticipation, just as before.

"Shall we have a talk?"

Today had played out all over again.

There was only one Prisoner present at this spot.

At the end of their brief conversation, the Red Moon rose, and from Oara' s shadow and body, Beelrog opened his eyes.

-You must be the one who called me, right?

The lines were a bit different, but judging by Beelrog' s reaction, it was clear enough.

Even the Demon before him didn' t know.

No one was aware of the Ferryman' s intervention.

"Yeah, that' s me."

Enkrid let go of the insoluble mysteries, drew Dawnforged, and tossed its sheath behind him.

No, he even undid Penna and threw it behind him as well.

With his hand gripping the sword and his focus sharpened,

Will gathered and became the blade.

Pararararak.

Sensing his intent, the cloak he had received from the Fairy fluttered in the wind, then narrowed in width until it transformed into a thin scarf.

The string also thinned, wrapping itself once around his neck before stopping.

Enkrid' s eyes turned calm and heavy.

Beelrog' s oppressive aura began—chains constricted his entire body.

An intangible force pressed down on him, seizing him with restraint.

' Faster.'

He gathered his will of rejection into Will and activated it, pushing back the pressure.

The two horns sprouting from Beelrog' s forehead moved up and down.

He nodded.

It was a sign that he approved.

Once again, Beelrog waited until Enkrid could endure the oppressive force.

It was probably part of his twisted sense of amusement.

It was likely meant as a test: only those who could withstand this pressure were worthy of crossing swords with him.

Beelrog didn' t exploit the opening created by his own aura.

The confidence he displayed could have been a tactic to break most opponents' spirits.

That he just stood by and watched despite creating such a vulnerability—that meant he believed he would win no matter what.

It was an act that introduced impurities into Will.

Right after overcoming the pressure with sheer refusal, Enkrid still gripped the sword tightly with both hands.

In an instant, Dawnforged sliced through the crimson moonlight and came down.

No warning, not even a breath.

This was the best preemptive strike Enkrid could muster right now.

As he cut through the air with a swift motion, he sensed time around him slow, and he felt a crushing weight bear down on him as if he were sinking into muddy water.

Within Beelrog' s eyes, his irises sparked with flame, whirling violently before suddenly halting.

Those flames stared at him and silently asked: Is that the best you can do?

In this cycle, before he' d even heard the sword' s name, the Black Flame Sword, Surtr, was already raised and crashed down on the Sky-Hued Dawnforged.

Clang!

The second battle had begun.

There wasn' t much difference from before.

There hadn' t even been time to fully absorb what he' d learned from their last fight.

But did that really matter?

He had never let a single day go to waste, and that' s why he' d made it this far.

So, he would do the same now.

Enkrid fought with everything he had, struggled fiercely—then lost.

Thud!

The whip of flame and serpent called Salamandra coiled around his left arm, sinking its fangs into his heart.

It was the opening he' d had to give up in order to block Surtr and even Beelrog' s horns.

Pain—agony—he turned his thoughts over and over, replaying the fight in his mind to escape it.

He thought he' d kept his eyes open and endured, but darkness crept in before he realized it, and as he relived the battle, he suddenly felt the ferryman' s gaze settle on him.