A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"What can a knight do?"

Krais did not let this question converge on a single answer.

'They all have different specialties.'

What if he entrusted a stealth mission to Audin?

'Wouldn't it become a semi-frontal assault?'

He could walk silently if necessary, but his build was conspicuously large.

He wasn't nicknamed the Bear-Beastkin for nothing.

'What if he entrusted a tracking mission to Ragna?'

Killing the target would be a problem in and of itself, but whether he could even return was also uncertain.

Fel was specialized in one-on-one combat, and Ropord fought well while commanding a unit.

Of course, they could manage even if their roles were switched.

Because that's what knights were.

'Is specialty the only problem? Disposition is also a problem.'

For example, what if he told Enkrid to cut down a thousand enemy soldiers overnight?

He wouldn't do it.

Being able to do something and being filled with the will to do it are two different matters.

'He would find the path that results in the fewest deaths.'

That didn't mean he would avoid battle, nor would he turn away from the horrors of war.

The path Enkrid had walked was too harsh for that.

He knows how sharp the blade of reality is.

And that blade cuts through flesh, digs through muscle, and slices through entrails from unexpected places.

He will cut if necessary.

He will fight if it is justified.

Enkrid would do so.

Both specialty and disposition had to be considered.

And so Krais did.

'Then, if we limit it to killing, not fighting, regardless of whether the opponent is a magician or not?'

Jaxen could not guarantee victory in a frontal confrontation with anyone.

But if he was told to kill, it was a different story.

He does not show his true skills.

It was a habit ingrained from living as an assassin since childhood.

What happens when the man named Jaxen sets his mind on a target?

No one would answer honestly, but no one would truly ignore him.

"Information. I need everything you know about the opponent."

Krais had requested a role from Jaxen, and he had asked that as if it were a matter of course.

"I don't know. Because I don't know, you have to do it, Jaxen."

However, Krais only knew a fraction of what he needed to know about them.

"What I know is this. Among the ones belonging to that group, there isn't a single one who hasn't conducted a human experiment. There was a time when such a trend was popular among them."

"A trend?"

"It's an experiment of planting a star in a person."

It was something that made one nauseous just hearing about it.

"They implant a tool that has collected Will or magic into a human body. Shall I put it more simply? They tried to make a human body into something like a spell object, using it as a tool."

The reason?

Esther knew the reason well.

Krais relayed her words.

"It's the same principle as cooking. Using the human body as a cooking utensil."

It was something they did without discriminating against adults, the elderly, or children.

Was this all they did?

Astrail, this group with a grand name, does not see other intelligent beings as people.

In a way, they are more cruel than demons.

Is it because they are human that they can be more cruel to their own kind?

Because humans are a species most specialized in adaptation?

"Living life, sometimes things that don't make sense shamelessly show their faces."

Jaxen, after listening to Krais's words, nodded his head.

A nod of permission.

When faced with things that were outside the realm of understanding, Jaxen dealt with them in a consistent manner.

Krais wanted to see his consistent manner this time as well.

"So you knew we were coming. It wouldn't be magic detection. How did you do it?"

The white robe, embroidered with golden thread, glittered.

The magic imbued in the thread itself was the magician's preparation.

It would be no trouble at all to kill a few knights with the spells embedded in his robe.

At least, that's what he believed.

He had never tested it.

He just felt it was natural because he knew the principles.

Therefore, he thought it was more of a headache to have to kill only the chaff in front of him, leaving the Child of the Stars.

It meant that keeping the Child of the Stars alive while fighting was more of a nuisance.

Their gazes crossed.

Esther, the owner of the blue eyes, opened her mouth.

"It was magic detection."

"You extended your detection range beyond the entire city to this far?"

It was beyond his common sense.

The magician furrowed his brow.

At the same time, a light burst from his robe.

It was because his disciple and subordinate, who had been right behind him, had suddenly charged.

The magician's gaze turned back.

In his eyes, he saw a blade emerging from within a gray robe.

'Where do you think you're going.'

A white light bursts from the magician's robe, and a protective spell activates.

This spell had three effects.

One was that the gravity within a three-step radius of him would increase.

The second was a reflection spell, where if he was stabbed with a sword, a sword of light would be created and stab back.

Even if it was an arrow, it would turn into an arrow and be returned.

Finally, the third was a spell called Light's Restoration, which would save the caster from any injury that was not fatal.

It was a world of spells modeled after divine power.

He believed that this protective spell would save his life at least three times.

And a dagger, two spans long, cut through the carotid artery and the back of the cervical vertebrae.

Sskk.

Even though it cut through bone, there was barely any sound.

The dagger that had cut through his cervical vertebrae was not that fast, nor did it tear through sound.

As the neck was cut, blood spurted, and the half-severed neck dangled and tilted to the side.

No one calls a severed neck a fatal wound.

This was just death.

A moment of demise.

He had received the Reaper's kiss in a single blow.

Jaxen had, at some point, disguised himself as a subordinate in a gray robe, and with a single blow, he had cut the throat of a magician belonging to Astrail.

Krais's request had been to cut the throat of one magician the moment they faced each other.

The first blow, taking advantage of their carelessness, was Jaxen's role.

The skin of the neck, hanging by a thread, was thin.

The severed head was heavy.

The skin, barely holding on, snapped, and the head fell to the ground.

The body, which had been spouting a fountain of blood for a moment, also tilted and collapsed.

Zing-zing-zing.

The light from the collapsed magician's robe flickered and then went out.

A spell exists only if its caster exists.

A world of spells had just come to an end.

Some of the subordinates just blinked, unable to believe the reality.

Something they had never even imagined had happened.

What is this?

Suddenly, their master was dead.

Their reality was shattered.

"They are the same," Esther said and waved her hand.

Following her gesture, blades of blizzard formed.

It was a creation spell that imbued the power of the frozen lands into D'Mulle's scythe.

"Tundra Gale."

At her call, magic flowed and met the world of spells.

The mystery that is a spell struck the necks of the remaining subordinates.

A few raised their staffs in resistance, but it was useless.

A shield of light containing hot heat was created, but it could not block the blades of the frozen lands.

Ssk, ssk, ssk.

Similar sounds echoed in succession, and the remaining subordinates all collapsed with their necks or heads cut off.

"Well, it seems we couldn't even have a proper conversation," Enkrid said, and Rem received his words.

"We can have the rest of the conversation with the ones coming now."

Astrail is a group.

They are not beings who move alone.

But it was also true that for a group, they were a gathering without much binding force.

Esther had seen that there would definitely be someone who would come first out of greed.

Carelessness?

In fact, if you think about it, this wasn't even carelessness.

It was just that Jaxen was amazing.

Jaxen flicked his sword and stood next to Enkrid.

The skill he had just shown was quite surprising.

Seeing the opponent's protective spell activate, he had adjusted the speed of his swing, dodged the reflected sword that was aimed at him, and then, grasping the timing of the gap in the spell's activation, a timing when the reflection would not repeat, he had dug in and cut only the opponent's neck.

On the surface, it looked like a single sword strike, but if you looked closely, it was a total of three attacks.

Naturally, it was an attack that only Enkrid, Rem, and the Dragonkin had recognized.

'He grasped the form of the spell with his left hand.'

The sword was in his right hand.

Jaxen had swung his left hand to find out what kind of effect the protective barrier had.

Then, he had adjusted his reaction speed as he swung his sword.

It was simple if you just looked at it, but the result was shocking.

Of course, that was from the opponent's perspective.

Jaxen, without even a single pant, stood next to Enkrid with his arms hanging loose.

The dead magician's blood stained the ground crimson.

Behind them, a second magician approached.

He flew in on something like a black tray, floating about two spans from the ground.

It was directly in front of Enkrid's gaze.

And to the right, a new magician appeared.

This one was a woman.

She wore a wide-brimmed hat, and thin snakes were coiled around both of her forearms.

Again, from the left, another magician popped out.

He was so short he wasn't even half of Enkrid's height, and he was clad in a full suit of silver-glowing armor.

All three were old acquaintances of Esther.

"Looks like all the men I've dumped have shown up," Esther threw a joke. Naturally, it was meant for Enkrid to hear.

"There's a woman too," Enkrid received her words.

"It seems all the people I've dumped have gathered. The Demonic Witch of Charm, that's me."

"...Isn't that something Rem, or Shinar should say?"

Enkrid asked.

It was none of the two, obviously.

"Why do you always bring me into it? You looking for a fight? Huh?" Rem said, taking out his sling and letting it hang loose.

Esther had said it out of a mixture of apology and gratitude.

She might be a cold-hearted witch, but she was still human.

Everyone makes mistakes.

The moment she had spoken, she had wanted to turn back time.

In Enkrid's eyes, Esther had no reason to be sorry.

From what he had heard, all those belonging to this group called Astrail deserved to die.

The Star-Chasers.

Some of the magicians who had been the origin of the incident of summoning a demon at the Tower of Wisdom in the past also belonged to this group.

They were beings who would burn the continent for the sake of an experiment.

They were also beings who would start a war for their own purposes.

Enkrid opened his mouth and spoke from his heart.

"You wanted to emphasize that you had many suitors, right? If you are envious of my 'demonic' title, I want to tell you that it's not such a pleasant nickname."

A red flush spread across the face of the witch who used composure as her weapon.

"The Demonic Witch of Charm, that's me," Rem imitated her words.

"The Demonic Witch of Charm. Should I move the information guild to spread some rumors?" Jaxen showed his favor.

"That witch is feeling shame right now," the Dragonkin read Esther's mind.

These crazy bastards only got along well in moments like these.

The one who teased her by babbling, the one who repeated her words and smirked, the one who pretended to show favor by offering to spread rumors, and the one who nonchalantly discussed her shame.

Esther, her cheeks slightly flushed, said to the three approaching magicians, "I am here."

It meant that the witch they had been longing for was here.

She had tried to move past being teased, but were they madmen for nothing?

"The Demonic Witch of Charm, it's that woman."

"Right there."

"It's not a pleasant nickname, but if you want, I suppose it would be right for me to call you that too."

"Shameful. Very shameful. It seems you are repeating such words in your mind."

In order, Rem, Jaxen, Enkrid, and the Dragonkin.

Ah, should I just kill them all?

Esther was just contemplating whether to include them in the range of her spell.

There was no sense of crisis.

If you were to ask why…

"If there's anyone among the three of you who's here, right now, in order to do good and save people, speak up."

It must be because of this man.

Enkrid spoke, meeting the eyes of each of the three.

Only Esther knew the full truth.

Enkrid slays spells.

An ordinary spell would not work on him.

Jaxen took a few more steps back.

From the ground where he had been, dirt flew, and four finger-sized vipers raised their heads.

"He dodged?" the witch on the right said with a smile.

She had mastered the art of commanding snakes and had built her world of spells with it.

Moreover, she had even transplanted the blood of a Medusa, said to live in the demon realm, into her own body.

A madness was laced in her smile.

"Do you care for these people? Then I will spare them, so follow me," the magician on the disc in front said.

His specialty was black ore.

He shaped black iron powder and combined it with spells.

He was not an easy opponent.

Finally, the talent of the short magician, who was born with a heavenly punishment, was also extraordinary.

Enkrid ran forward.

Esther gestured to the right, and Rem turned his body to the side.

All the movements were simultaneous.

How could a magician's eyes follow the movements of a knight?

Because they could not, they had also made full preparations.

However, those preparations were a little insufficient.

No, to be precise, they had underestimated the Madmen Knight Order of the Border Guard.

A black iron wall formed in front of Enkrid and enveloped him.

"Sleep in the black coffin!" the magician shouted.

A magician who had reached the stage of taciturn, forced to cast the spell.

It was that much that Enkrid's charge had burdened and surprised him.

It was so even though he had prepared for this.

Enkrid, seeing the wall that was trying to envelop his body, accelerated once more.

And with that, the spell could not follow him.

The Dragonkin's eyes held interest.

'A move he has never shown before.'

A technique he had not seen in their spars until now had come out.

Rather than the interest in the technique itself, his interest arose because he could see the intention of the shining-willed human.

The Dragonkin, who had been watching, stomped his foot.

KUNG.

With that, the snakes that had been aiming for his feet from underground were all killed.

It was a technique of manipulating and radiating Will.

It had been over half a month since he had awoken.

The Dragonkin was slowly awakening the skills and strength he had forgotten.

Enkrid, who had escaped the domain of the spell with a double acceleration, cut the spell.

The prepared spell, a black mass that had flown in succession, was cut like tangled wool.

The spell, which should have exploded and spread a fatal powder to the respiratory system, did not activate.

He slays the spell.

It was a scene that suited those words perfectly.