A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

'Will is volition.'

To put it simply, that was it.

Ragna, too, knew that principle.

Then was the blade of heat, spewed forth through Sunrise, my will?

'Or was it the will of the sword?'

The abilities I can wield because it is a relic-class sword in which lingering thoughts have accumulated for generations—are they mine?

Or are they the sword's?

These were the words that had been drifting through Ragna's mind since the fight with Beelrog.

The emotion of regret had also found him.

'At the end, I shouldn't have unleashed the heat.'

In the final battle with Beelrog, Ragna had felt dissatisfaction with his last sword strike.

It was a fight that should have ended with his sword.

The blade that should have slashed all three crystals had been blocked.

'Why?'

Ragna always knew the path his sword would take.

It was on the level of seeing the future in advance.

That was why he had also seen that his sword would smash through Beelrog's three crystals.

It had been a determined fact.

But it had failed.

Was it a lack of capability?

No, it was a path that had been visible because it had been possible in that moment.

Though he often lost his way when searching for a path, the Ragna who held a sword did not.

In the midst of that, he had also seen Enkrid break his shell and take a step forward.

He had watched Enkrid's Extinguishing Embers from up close.

The Captain was moving forward.

'Then what about me?'

Had I regressed?

At that thought, funnily enough, his heart pounded, his spirit stirred, and all sorts of emotions intersected before converging into one.

And funnily enough, it was not a negative emotion.

'This is fun.'

The pleasure and elation the Captain had spoken of countless times had found him.

That moment, which had been boring because the path was set, now felt so different.

That was why this time was not agonizing.

He was simply enjoying it.

And just because he found it enjoyable didn't mean he intended to stay here.

The end of all these emotions was felt because he was moving forward.

Ragna was a genius.

He did not miss that principle.

Only by moving forward would this enjoyment continue.

Monster, Beelrog, fight, Captain, Extinguishing Embers, Beelrog again, and then Sunrise.

His thoughts followed one another in a chain, and he walked in search of a dimly visible light.

In that process, Ragna did not feel the slightest bit of boredom.

That was why he had been swinging his sword even when alone, walking within his own world regardless of what was happening around him.

At first, he had thought he was walking alone, but in his mind's eye, the Captain and that mad rabble had approached and stayed one by one, and at some point, the light that had seemed so far away had strode closer.

"Do you get it now?"

Inside his mind's eye, Sunrise spoke to him.

Sunrise was a relic, but not an Ego Sword, so this must have been a delusion, but the sword did emit a faint vibration.

"You'll finally be able to use a sword properly."

To be precise, were they words spoken not by the sword but by the lingering thoughts contained within it?

'If I am consumed by Sunrise, I will remain at a merely decent level.'

Of course, 'merely decent' here was from Ragna's perspective.

The words had come out from the fact that he could not be satisfied with his current state.

It was natural, but there was a clear reason why even the house of Yohan had left such a sword alone and not used it.

If used incorrectly, you are instead consumed by the sword.

A sword that requires outstanding talent to even be granted the qualification to hold it, and even that qualification must be continuously proven.

'Not a Treasured Sword, but a Demon Sword.'

Yes, if he had to categorize it, it was closer to a Demon Sword.

"Blade."

That was why he had to wield it not with heat, but with his own inherent will.

He must not be wielded by the sword, but wield the sword.

He had to do so with his will.

The answer to the conclusion he had reached after repeated thought was 'blade'.

Not heat, but blade.

A sword forged of Will.

Ragna's talent found the light, grasped it, and swallowed it.

"...What is this crazy bastard talking about?"

The man in the black hat said.

It was after he had barely escaped the pressure.

The one with the greatsword was ready to fight at any moment.

"What is it? An enemy? Should I cut them down?"

Though it wasn't clearly visible on the outside, Ragna was steeped in a faint elation.

The sense of omnipotence he had felt when he became a knight filled his body.

But he wouldn't get drunk on it and swing his sword carelessly.

It was just that.

'If I were to fight again.'

If he were to meet the now-dead Beelrog again, he was only filled with the thought that he would not fight as unsightly as before.

In other words, Ragna was now full of the desire to fight.

Should it be said that his state was comparable to a frog just before achieving its goal, a giant drunk on blood, an elf protecting the forest, a dwarf who has discovered a precious gem, and a beastkin who has met an attractive mate?

However, the extraordinary are a species that always breaks the limits set by their kind.

An extraordinary frog would know to hold back even when drunk on desire, just before achieving its goal.

It was the same for other races.

A cool-headed giant, an ascetic beastkin, an emotional and aggressive elf, a dwarf who has transcended material greed.

Ragna had shown such patience just by asking instead of cutting him down on the spot.

Esther recognized that.

For it was a path she too had achieved and walked through magic.

She looked at Ragna and thought.

'And all of this is because of the person named Enkrid.'

It was what she had learned from watching his back.

Just as it was for her, it was for Ragna too.

"No. A guest. For now."

Esther chose her words and spat them out, and the man in the black hat felt his cold reason turn into boiling water.

He wanted to pour out everything he had right here and now and bring them to their knees.

But he could not.

As long as he professed to be someone's subordinate, the command took precedence over his own will.

"I will kill you."

The man with the greatsword, separate from him, revealed his will.

Regardless of the purity of that will, its size was considerable.

Looking at his stance, attitude, and presence all together, he was a man who knew how to fight.

From Ragna's standard, a man who knew how to fight was at a knight's level.

But he didn't quite suit his taste.

At best, it would be over in one or two slashes.

If that is the case, it would just be better to have a sparring match with the Captain.

Of course, right now, reflecting on what he had just realized was more important.

So, if they weren't enemies, he could just ignore them.

After hearing Esther's words, Ragna turned and left with long strides.

The man with the greatsword could not chase him.

Even if he had revealed his will to fight, he too was a subordinate.

"...What in the world was that?"

The man in the black hat asked as if muttering.

He had lived in this world long enough.

And he had met many peculiar people.

The man just now was outstanding even among them.

He was a man in whom madness could be glimpsed.

Esther answered, thinking of Ragna.

"A lost swordsman."

"What?"

There was nothing more to say.

In any case, they were on their way to meet the person named Enkrid.

The portly merchant took out a handkerchief, wiped his forehead, took out a round pill from his bosom, swallowed it, and muttered to himself.

"It protects and calms the mind."

The effect wasn't a fake, as his trembling legs soon returned to normal.

"Phew, there won't be any more incidents like that, will there?"

The merchant said with a smile and started moving again.

And so they went.

How many steps had they taken, when they met someone else.

They hadn't just met them.

It was a similar situation to before, though different.

"Who do we have here?"

The merchant felt something cold and eerie touch his neck.

He didn't know what had just happened, but the warning his instincts gave him was clear.

Stop walking and shut your mouth.

The merchant did so.

The man in the black hat only swiveled his eyes to the side.

His eyes moved beyond the range of a normal human, and he confirmed the person standing next to him.

It was a man with reddish-brown hair and an uncommon appearance.

Having approached at some point, he was standing between the black hat and him, aiming two blades, less than a hand-span long and held so that the handles were not visible, at their necks.

One wrong move and they would be sliced clean through.

The man in the black hat also knew this instinctively.

The man with the greatsword was a step late in retreating and gripping the handle of his sword.

Jaxen's gaze did not change.

He had asked who they were, but he just stared at Esther.

He wasn't trying to pick a fight for no reason.

The moment he saw these three, his senses had reacted.

Regardless of their skill, they were men who exuded a seditious aura.

They had not come with good intentions.

Therefore, if necessary, it was right to subdue them here.

They were such unpleasant people that if it weren't for Esther, he would have attacked first.

Jaxen had always dealt with assassins who aimed for Enkrid or those who snuck in.

For him, this was daily life.

Though not for the people on the receiving end.

"Still guests."

Esther replied flatly.

She did not think they were a threat.

Therefore, she was taking them to Enkrid.

"Hm."

Jaxen retreated just like that.

Since there was no need to exchange any more words, he just went to take care of his own business.

Today was the day he was meeting his lover.

The reason he had stepped up now was with the thought of picking up some trash he had seen on his way, not with the full intention of doing anything.

It was after Jaxen had retreated.

The merchant muttered.

"This is worse than the Demon Realm."

Esther glanced at him.

The merchant gave the impression that if he were to enter the Demon Realm, it would be a hard to survive until he could count to ten.

And yet, if he had experienced not just the border of the Demon Realm but the inside, there must have been a reason.

The information revealed in his tone suggested so.

"It'll be a problem if you're surprised by this."

Esther said honestly.

In The Order of the Madmen Knights, there were others left who would surprise them more than those two.

The road to the training grounds was proving to be unexpectedly rough.

They had set out to deliver a simple message or threat, but instead, they were being threatened.

"Damn bastards."

The man in the black hat was getting a little twisted up inside.

As they continued forward, this time two swordsmen of knight-level, who looked so similar they could have been brothers, stepped forward and were in the middle of a fight, veins popping on their foreheads.

It wasn't a clash of swords, but an argument.

"Hey, there's a new person over there. It's only fair to ask them."

Said the man named Fel.

His former profession was a Shepherd of the Wilderness, and he was now a member of The Order of the Madmen Knights, a hard worker who bet on the moment, discussed talent, and yet trained like madman.

The man standing opposite him, Ropord, shrugged.

"By all means."

Fel, seeing Esther, asked the three behind her.

"Hey there. Between the two of us, who do you think is better looking?"

Fuck, what kind of random question is this?

The man in the black hat wasn't even flustered.

He just felt a daze, as if he had been up for several nights.

There were no sane people here.

"Do I look like a pushover?"

The man in the black hat muttered.

Even though he had once been a corps commander of a beast unit?

Even though there had been countless soldiers who would wet themselves if they saw him, even from a distance?

It was to the point that his nickname, 'Guide of the Black Wave,' was put to shame.

No matter how few discerning eyes there were, how could this be.

The man suppressed his complex feelings with a blank expression.

He was a subordinate.

What he could do here was limited.

"This one."

That was why he answered meekly.

Pfft.

It seemed such a sound was heard from somewhere.

The man's eyes once again swiveled abnormally and swept over Esther.

Only one of his eyeballs was positioned to the side of his eye.

It was an eerie trick.

She was expressionless.

But the sound of laughter just now was definitely hers.

"With eyes like those, no wonder you can't discern anything properly."

Fel did not accept this.

He pointed at the other's eyes with his finger, spoke, and then turned away.

"Right, of course you can't accept it this time either."

Ropord was nonchalant.

It was a fight he had won from the start, so he was acting like a winner.

"It was an unfair fight from the beginning. You hang out with the soldiers every day, and I don't, so if you ask for an evaluation of our looks in those conditions, they have no choice but to say that because they're afraid of your fists."

He had already asked the soldiers a similar question and gotten an answer before coming here.

Sometimes, long words are proof of a disadvantage.

The current Fel was like that.

"Let's go."

Esther ignored them and passed by.

The man with the greatsword debated whether he should draw his sword or not.

Was it not to that extent?

It was ambiguous whether he should draw his sword and threaten them or not.

As they walked on, this time they met a large man and woman who looked so much alike they could have been siblings.

"You are full of a seditious aura."

"If your heart is looking to receive the god of war, you may speak at any time."

The two said only that and stopped.

Esther said again that they were guests.

The two passed by them.

"Because there's a lecture at the temple today."

Said the man who was presumed to be a bear beastkin as he passed.

The man in the black hat mulled over the words the two had thrown.

'Receive the god of war?'

That was what the apostles of the war god often said.

It was the crazy talk of saying that since forgiveness belongs to God, their duty was to send them to God's side.

In other words, it meant, 'speak if you want to die'.

"These bastards?"

Now he was at a point where he couldn't even get angry.

Esther, the witch the man called the Child of the Stars, led them to their destination.

There was the man with black hair and blue eyes.

"Rem, you reek."

There was a beastkin with golden eyes and an ill-mannered tongue.

"Uh, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? Perhaps you want some combat practice?"

And with them was a barbarian who spouted even greater nonsense.

The beastkin held her nose, and the barbarian grinned, taking out his axe.

"Should I just split one of them first?"

It would probably be alright.

But that decision was not Esther's to make.

"Guests."

Esther said and looked at Enkrid.

Two pairs of blue eyes met.

There must have been a reason why Esther had brought them this far.

"You crazy bastards!"

And there was the man in the black hat who, overjoyed at the treatment he had received on his way here, let out a shriek that was like a cheer.

Enkrid looked at him calmly.

They were such contrasting figures.

One was clearly excited, while the other was as calm as could be.