A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

As the crystals shattered, Beelrog's body broke apart and scattered like ash, and from within, a black mass billowed out.

Even so, he could swing his hand one more time.

He had enough strength left for a final act.

For instance, he could have commanded all the lingering thoughts left behind him.

Ordered them to wager everything they had and kill the ones who had driven him to annihilation.

But Beelrog did not.

He did not want to.

He simply smiled, the corners of his mouth stretched wide.

He was born to fight, and he was dying in the midst of it.

So there was no reason not to be satisfied.

His reason for living until now had not been slaughter, but the fight itself.

Born a monster, dying a fighter.

He did not retreat for fear of annihilation.

He was satisfied with that.

It was just a pity that he could not do this anymore.

No, to be a little more honest with himself, he had wanted to play with a guy like that, be it human or whatever.

For longer, for a very long time.

With a madman like that, the one with black hair and blue eyes.

'A pity.'

Even so, he did not leave behind any clumsy, lingering attachments. Beelrog, who had intended to convey his will through telepathy, vibrated his vocal cords for the first time in a long while.

"Hey."

There was no need to ask who the call was for. His gaze was still fixed on the human with the shining eyes.

A gaze that made it seem as if no one else existed in the world but Enkrid.

As his skin tore like clotted ash, the form of the labyrinth above his head likewise turned to ash and scattered.

In the midst of it all, Beelrog finished his words.

"That was fucking fun."

With those final words, Beelrog's face crumbled away and he vanished.

As if he had never been there from the start, like the snow of winter melting with the arrival of spring, everything in the labyrinth, starting with Beelrog, melted and faded away.

No, not everything faded.

The shell that had formed his outer skin fell to the floor with a series of thuds.

The black mist that had flowed in place of bone and flesh, muscle and blood, had drained away, leaving behind a shell stripped of its limbs and wings and horns, looking something like a piece of tanned leather.

With Salamandra and Surtr also gone, it was the only remaining trace.

Audin, who had been watching, opened his mouth.

"May you find the moment you desire in the heavens."

After everything that had covered the sky vanished, an ultramarine sky was revealed.

It was the sky of early evening.

In the distance, a part of the fading sunlight and two moons showed their faces.

The cloudless sky was tranquil.

As always, the sky simply displayed its magnificent beauty.

Enkrid looked at the ultramarine sky, at Oara beyond all that was fading away.

"Thank you, Enki."

She said.

"Don't mention it."

Enkrid replied as if it were nothing.

A part of the lingering thoughts, or perhaps all the souls that had been bound to the being called Beelrog, ascended.

A single hazy light shot up from below.

Starting with that, dozens of lights headed toward the sky.

It was a magnificent sight.

Among them, Enkrid saw three familiar faces.

Through the halo of light, he saw the woman who wielded a single-edged sword cocking her head, the old knight Donafa with a sturdy build and not in the form of a Dullahan, and the artifact expert Rino.

Rino gave a slight nod.

Donafa held up his axe, and the woman with the single-edged sword pressed the pommel of her sword with her left hand and tucked her chin.

It seemed she was from the military, as her greeting was of that sort.

Some of the others were busy ascending, while some left what looked like a gesture of thanks toward Enkrid's party.

Their body language suggested it.

"They are all probably grateful."

Oara said.

Her body, too, was turning into a halo of light and scattering.

Should he have brought Roman?

No, by that logic, he should have brought the soldier who had a one-sided crush on Oara, not Roman.

Enkrid felt the name was on the tip of his tongue.

Millio, that was his name.

Oara smiled even as she turned into a halo of light and faded away.

It was the same smile as when he had first seen her.

The smiling face of Oara had not changed.

"It would sound like a curse if I said 'see you again,' wouldn't it?"

With those last words, Oara became light and vanished.

Enkrid didn't even frown at the pain in both his arms.

His gaze swept over those who had finished the fight.

A deeply sunken mark was clearly visible on Audin's chest.

A trace left even though Enkrid had blocked with his sword and Audin had also blocked with his holy-power-infused Holy Light Armor.

A faint light constantly flowed from Audin's entire body.

"I'm alright."

They were just words.

He was in a state where he had to circulate holy power throughout his body, even if it strained him, just to live.

Still, he was relatively fine because he possessed such a sturdy body to begin with.

Ragna stabbed Sunrise into the ground, leaning on it to support his collapsing body.

His eyes were half-glazed over, and from his muttering, he was half-fainted.

"I should have switched to the blade there…"

What he meant didn't come across intuitively.

It was probably a statement that could only be understood from his perspective.

However, it was rare for a guy packed to the brim with talent to say something like that, so it sounded a bit unfamiliar.

He probably wouldn't do it for long, but Ragna was actually reviewing the fight.

It was likely because he had caught a glimpse of his own shortcomings in the battle just now.

His pride must have been wounded by the fact that even if he couldn't overwhelm his opponent, he ultimately couldn't perform his role perfectly.

Not that Enkrid knew all the details of his inner thoughts.

To be honest, he was just as exhausted.

His skin tingled and his whole body ached.

It felt as if dozens of giants had ganged up and beaten his entire body with clubs.

"Hmph."

Jaxen let out a short groan and revealed himself.

He wasn't fine either.

The dagger Enkrid had thrown had bought him time, not a shield.

The tip of Beelrog's wing had slashed a long gash across his chest.

Even though he was equipped with a defensive item, blood was about to pour from the long scratch—no, the gouge.

Naturally, he hadn't just left it be.

He had slathered on an ointment recently made by Anne by mixing in elven secret remedies, then applied a leaf he got from the elves.

It was a substitute for a bandage, but it could be expected to increase the body's natural healing power and have a hemostatic effect.

Next, on the inside of the leaf, he had applied a medicine refined from a poison that coagulates blood, so that the flowing blood itself would become a seal over the wound.

This was the level of treatment he performed the moment he saw Beelrog die leaving only its husk.

To be honest, if he hadn't done this, he would have been in danger from losing too much blood.

A very large scar would probably be left on Jaxen's chest.

"That was easy."

He then spouted some needless words.

Enkrid let out a chuckle at that.

While the traces of the feeling of omnipotence still lingered in his head, causing a throbbing headache, Jaxen's single remark served as a trigger to slightly dull his heightened senses.

Jaxen had thrown out the joke-like comment because he had recognized Enkrid's state.

"You're all so weak."

And then Rem approached, his cheeks gaunt and dragging his legs, unable to walk properly.

Seeing him pretend to be fine and spew such words, it was clear that his madness was more genuine than Jaxen's 'easiness'.

"Hey, if you guys couldn't handle it, this Vice-Captain was gonna, y'know? Take an axe and slice-slice. Hmph."

Drip.

As he spoke, Rem got a nosebleed.

The traces of wiped blood around his mouth were obvious.

He wiped away the flowing nosebleed.

He didn't know for sure, but Rem's internal organs must have been ringing, yet seeing him act so tough, Rem was Rem.

And there was an elf who was supposed to hear Rem's words and throw a joke about the Vice-Captain being her role as the fiance.

She remained still, her mouth shut.

The boots made of layered leaves were crushed, revealing her bare feet.

"It is called Ars Pugnae."

The name of a martial art passed down through the elven race for generations.

"All elves are born with spirit energy. This is a technique that handles not external spirit energy, but the energy one is born with."

So it cannot be used carelessly.

If used incorrectly, you die on the spot.

What Shinar had done was just that.

The spirit energy she had left in her leaf-blades was exhausted, the place she was in was right in front of the Demon Realm, and with Beelrog's appearance, it had become a labyrinth similar to the Demon Realm itself.

She had few options.

Would she watch as a bystander under the excuse of faith and see everyone die?

'Or would she interfere, knowing it was reckless?'

Above those two choices, Shinar chose not the long life of an elf, but the life of a spark.

"I will not die, Enki."

She called him not by his fiancé's name, but by a nickname.

The kind of nickname close friends use when shortening a name.

"Shinar?"

Enkrid looked at the elf.

The life in her eyes was gradually fading.

"I hope to see you when I wake up again. Send me to the city of elves."

And then Shinar fainted.

Her body crumpled like a wooden block.

It was Enkrid, the man with shattered arm bones.

He couldn't catch her in his arms, so he threw his own body under her collapsing form.

He had stopped her from falling to the ground.

In the meantime, Audin approached and checked Shinar's condition.

A priest who wields holy power also serves as an excellent doctor.

That's because using holy power based on a person's condition is fundamental.

It is a prejudice to think that just pouring holy power on someone will heal their body.

That process also requires delicate control.

"She is not dead."

Audin said.

A thin, long breath continued from Shinar's lips.

"She will be fine."

Jaxen said next.

He too had a knack for grasping a person's condition.

Her breathing was shallow, but stable.

Her condition was similar to when one used a fainting drug that makes you feign death, which was sometimes used in the world of assassination.

To an unknowing person, her breathing was so faint that they would truly think she was dead.

'But she won't die.'

That was what his senses told him from observing her body.

The flame wasn't large, but this light would not be easily extinguished.

That light truly did not go out.

That is to say, this elf had once again manifested a joke in her own unique way.

"Ah, and it would be even better if our wedding ceremony were prepared when I wake up again."

Shinar had slightly lifted only her head to say her piece.

Wasn't she supposed to have fainted?

Everyone was surprised.

Come to think of it, an elf's breath is naturally faint and thin.

Of course, she was breathing even more laboriously now.

That was only natural, as she was exhausted from depleting her spirit energy.

Everyone present was not breathing as they normally would.

Even Jaxen felt there was something off about his senses observing Shinar's condition, and even that Rem had barely managed to walk this far and was now panting.

It seemed the staff that Ragna was leaning on was more needed by Rem.

"Were you surprised?"

Shinar showed a faint smile.

Enkrid just laughed.

Because he had been surprised.

The fight was over.

With the ultramarine sky as their backdrop, they collected Beelrog's husk and headed for the village.

The place they had been was a wide, open space outside the village.

With Enkrid in the lead, they all walked with slow steps.

At the place they arrived, they saw the survivors.

"No one is dead."

Was Ropord's report upon seeing Enkrid.

They weren't dead, but it was clear that they had also fought a harsh battle here.

Ropord had a deep wound on his left forearm.

A wound so deep that even with holy power treatment and Anne's help, he wouldn't be able to hold a sword for a fortnight.

Should he consider himself lucky not to have lost an arm?

He had been in the middle of wrapping his arm with bandages when he spotted Enkrid and spoke.

"Including the residents."

Fel added to the report.

The words that no one died meant that they had protected everyone here.

To be more precise, they had been able to protect them because there were no crazed slaughterers among the attackers.

"The Lord watched over us."

Theresa said.

"Well, was it fun?"

Luagarne, who had lost both legs and her left arm, leaving only her right, greeted him.

"Very."

Enkrid replied and looked around.

He saw the people who were watching them cautiously, the ones he had protected by standing before them.

The residents of the Demon Realm muttered about demonic nature and whatnot as they bowed their heads.

That night, Enkrid had two dreams.

In the first dream, Oara appeared.

"Weren't you supposed to have ascended?"

"Ah, this is a lingering attachment, you see. A real lingering thought. You could call it a final farewell. Anyway, you fight better than me now."

"Is that so?"

"Sir Enkrid."

As he silently looked at her, Oara drew her sword, Laughter.

This was a dream.

And this was a lingering attachment. J

ust as Beelrog had felt the desire to play with Enkrid more, Oara also had a lingering attachment.

She had once dreamed of a life after protecting the city.

'After protecting the city with Laughter.'

She had wanted to wander around with a single sword, looking for fun things to do.

That lingering attachment was now.

"I will face you with my full strength."

Oara said.

Because it was a dream, there were no injuries.

And it was an offer so tempting that he wouldn't refuse even if there were.

Oara was gone now.

Truly gone.

So this would be the last time.

He clashed blades and experienced the artistry Oara possessed more deeply.

It wasn't the technique called 'Connecting Sword,' but her life itself contained within the sword.

'Will is volition.'

Volition is life, a sword extended with that life contained within.

He learns her stance.

No, he reflects on it.

The dream ended.

"Thank you, truly."

Oara's lingering attachment departed.

The second dream began with a wide meadow and a blond man on horseback.

"I have never once lost."

The man said.

Hearing that voice reminded him of the owner of the ferry boat.