Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 14 - 14 - Knight
Chapter 14 - Knight
"Come here, you!"
"Lower your voice. This is the infirmary."
"So what, you punk?"
Though he growled, even the fiercest beast posed no threat when kept at a distance.
"It seems we're bound by some sort of connection. Wasn't the first time we met in the lower village?"
It was a bad connection—an ill-fated one that brought them together again and again.
"Why are you acting chummy, you unlucky bastard?"
The one to start the conversation was Vengeance.
Enkrid didn't bother pointing that out.
He wasn't petty enough to argue over such things.
"Fine."
Instead, he turned his body. The ointment Jaxen had given him was highly effective.
Even when moving like this, he barely felt any pain.
"What are you doing?"
"You told me not to act familiar, so I'm pretending not to know you."
"You think this is funny, punk?"
Vengeance yelled furiously.
Had he realized it was a joke, he might not have gotten so angry.
But then again...
'Maybe it's because I'm always surrounded by such savage squadmates.'
Seeing Vengeance after so long felt almost endearing.
Watching Rem, Jaxen, and the other squad members squabble often felt like it was shaving years off his life.
"Ah, you caught on. As expected of the platoon leader, the future of the Cypress Division."
"You... you!"
Vengeance's forehead veins bulged as he picked up his boot and hurled it.
Enkrid quickly caught it.
"A gift?"
"I'll kill you, you punk!"
Rem once said something along these lines:
"I may be pretty good at pushing people's buttons myself, but..."
"I wouldn't dare trade words with our squad leader when he decides to go all out."
Holding the boot nonchalantly, Enkrid's calm demeanor made Vengeance huff in frustration.
And then—
"Bwahahahaha!"
A soldier who had been idly passing time by staring into the air burst into laughter.
It was the kind of laugh that seemed like he might lose his mind from sheer joy.
Vengeance's sharp gaze swung around to the blond man who was now wiping tears from his eyes with a hooked finger.
"No, but 'a gift?' That was just too good. I held back until now, but wow."
Crrrunch.
Enkrid figured Vengeance's molars would probably crack before he turned forty.
Grinding teeth was bad for the gums, too.
He debated whether or not to bring this up.
Any further and Vengeance might lose control, blood rushing to his head, and end up memorialized as "the soldier who died of rage."
"What's your affiliation?"
Vengeance's tone was calm.
Instead of cursing, he asked for the other man's unit.
"Me? Hmm, just a passing soldier."
Oh?
Enkrid admired the man's confidence.
At least Enkrid was a squad leader.
This guy seemed to really be just an ordinary soldier.
But that attitude...
Still, the way he phrased it made it seem like he was intentionally hiding his rank and unit.
And Vengeance, not being a fool, caught on.
"So you're saying you can't disclose your affiliation?"
"It's not that, exactly. But yeah, I forgot my unit. The soldier part's true, though."
Such carefree audacity.
To Enkrid, this blond man radiated an air of nobility.
Because if a simple soldier forgot his own unit, he deserved to be beaten to death.
So the attitude he exuded now could only be called dignified.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Vengeance found himself trapped, unable to act one way or the other.
"But instead of worrying about me, you might want to check behind you."
Both Enkrid and Vengeance had been focused on the blond man.
So they both turned their heads to look behind them.
There was someone there.
'When did they—?'
Enkrid wasn't particularly sensitive, but as someone who had survived the battlefield, he had decent instincts.
He usually noticed when someone approached.
Yet now, he hadn't heard a sound or felt their presence.
"This is it? Where the Fourth Squad Leader is?"
The voice belonged to a woman.
Her figure was slender, her eyes sharp, and her ears pointed—a race distinct from humans.
A fairy.
She stared at the blond man and spoke.
Her tone was natural, suggesting she was of higher rank.
Enkrid raised his hand and spoke.
"Fourth Squad Leader of the Fourth Platoon, Enkrid, at your service."
Only then did the fairy woman's gaze move away from the blond man.
At the same time, a soldier guarding the infirmary tent stepped inside to add context.
"Yes, that's the squad leader over there."
"A fairy?"
Vengeance, seemingly shocked, finally reacted.
The fairy didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, only turning her head.
"Does the 2nd Company teach its men to state someone's race when addressing a superior? I'm more aware than anyone that I'm a fairy."
'Incredible.'
Enkrid saw in her a natural charisma that could crush someone with a single word.
"A-apologies! I am Platoon leader Vengeance of the 3rd Platoon!"
"I have a request."
"Yes!"
"Platoon leader Vengence, please keep your mouth shut while I'm here. You don't even need to answer this request. If you open that mouth, I might end up planting a knife or fist in your face. Understand, platoon leader Vengence?"
Enkrid didn't bother correcting her mispronunciation of Vengeance's name.
Vengeance clamped his hands over his mouth, his face twitching with restrained fury.
"I've heard your squad has some amusing members."
The fairy's gaze returned to Enkrid.
"Yes, thank you."
There was no benefit to getting on her bad side.
He responded politely.
Through their brief exchange, Enkrid found himself wondering:
'Why is she even here?'
The conversation was entirely pointless.
She praised his performance in battle, which, while accurate, wasn't noteworthy enough to warrant a visit.
"Yes, I survived an encounter with a Frog, but it was sheer luck."
"Luck is also a skill. The goddess of fortune doesn't drop coins for just anyone."
"Thank you."
She then turned to the blond man.
"And you, what's your name?"
"Uh, well, it's Krang."
As he answered, his eyes darted around, and his brow furrowed.
'Made that up on the spot.'
The name was obviously fake.
"I see."
The fairy gave a calm response and left the tent.
Vengeance, who hadn't even dared to breathe properly, finally exhaled deeply.
"Damn it."
"Oh, platoon leader."
Startled, Vengeance spun around, only to realize it was just a passing soldier.
"You punk!"
The man calling himself Krang burst into laughter again.
The guard at the infirmary peeked inside, baffled by their antics, and then slipped back out.
Enkrid looked at Vengeance and thought that at least he wouldn't get bored while he was here.
Enkrid reflected on the previous battle.
He focused on two things as he considered his future path:
"To strike with all his strength without pouring all his heart into it."
It hadn't even been a day since he found a clue, and already, his body itched to act.
Yet, he couldn't exert himself immediately—his side still ached.
The only training he could manage was grip strength exercises.
Enkrid worked on his fingers and forearm muscles.
At a glance, it might have seemed foolish.
"The body is the foundation of all techniques."
Even the smallest leaf has weight, and even a drop of water can pierce stone given enough time.
Thus, this seemingly insignificant effort would bear fruit in the future.
Enkrid believed this wholeheartedly and had built his tower of discipline on such a foundation.
"You're working hard, huh?"
It was Krang.
Two days had passed since the company commander left.
Other than reflecting on the fight and his grip strength training, Enkrid did nothing.
He focused entirely on resting.
After all, rest was important too.
The only thing that had changed was Krang—a half-crazed soldier who introduced himself and claimed to have forgotten his affiliation—loitering around him.
"Why are you so intense?"
Krang spoke casually to everyone, including Enkrid, and even to Vengeance.
"I'm a platoon leader! Show some respect to your superior!"
He even teased Vengeance, which made it clear he wasn't recovering from injuries here.
It seemed he had considerable skill as well—his playful steps near Vengeance, always evading capture by a hair's breadth, made that apparent.
"What?"
Since the other was just a soldier, Enkrid responded informally.
"All you do is clench and release your hands all day. Other than that, you just stare into space like you're lost. What are you thinking so hard about? And why are you so focused on clenching your hands?"
He was curious, like an eight-year-old.
But it wasn't particularly annoying.
"I'm a bit bored too."
Teasing Vengeance only worked a couple of times.
Having someone to talk to, even for small talk, was a good way to fend off boredom.
"This is grip strength training. As for staring into space, I'm reviewing the mistakes I made in the last battle."
"Why bother doing all that?"
Why?
"So I don't die in the next battle."
"Never seen a soldier go to such lengths just to survive."
"Then, have you seen any soldier like that live a long life?"
"Hmm, a few?"
What kind of life had this guy lived?
Enkrid suspected Krang was playing some civilian's game.
Not that it changed anything.
If the other wanted to engage in such things, Enkrid could humor him.
It didn't cost him anything.
He didn't envy others for having what he lacked.
If he had, he'd have driven himself mad long ago over someone's talent with a sword.
But Enkrid didn't.
He had his path forward, and the joy of growth fulfilled him.
"I just need to practice my thrusting technique more."
Full-power strikes still required training.
The Heart of the Beast
remained one of Enkrid's pillars of strength.
One step forward.
One step every day.
Even if today didn't repeat, the path wouldn't change.
Of course, not everything stayed the same.
"What do you want to become?" Krang asked.
It reminded Enkrid of when Rem had asked him the same.
The memory surfaced.
"Why does it feel like that was so long ago?"
That day no longer existed.
It had vanished because Enkrid had died.
The playful ambition he had once spoken of disappeared just as lightly.
If he opened his mouth to speak of the future or dreams now...
"Would today disappear again?"
It wouldn't.
Even if dreams were devoured and shredded by reality, traces remained.
Traces—yes, just traces lingered around his heart.
He used to think that.
But now?
"Are only traces left?"
Enkrid looked at his hands.
His palms were rugged, marred with calluses that had formed, burst, and scarred over many times.
The hardened skin on his fingers would likely never fade.
It was the proof of his efforts.
"Is that really all?"
He asked himself.
And found the answer.
It wasn't.
It couldn't be.
Even during the times when all that remained were traces, Enkrid had never given up.
"To be a knight."
A lower-class soldier from a third-rate mercenary background.
At best, a squad leader.
It was a meager position with little skill to boast of.
Yet he aimed for the summit—knighthood.
Vengeance, listening nearby, was ready to burst out laughing.
But Krang spoke first.
"Ah, a knight."
It was strange.
Vengeance wanted to mock him, but Krang's demeanor stopped him.
Not by force, but instinct told him it would be wrong.
Though his tone was calm, it carried weight.
Krang took that absurd dream seriously—he listened with his full heart and strength.
It was a level of attention that was almost staggering.
"Looking at you, I think I'm starting to figure out how I want to live."
Krang's words were simple.
Enkrid shrugged.
The odd atmosphere that had filled the infirmary vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
"Pfft, a knight? How ridiculous!"
And so, Vengeance mocked to his heart's content.
But it seemed laughable.
Neither Enkrid nor Krang paid him any attention.
"I outrank you!" Vengeance tried weakly.
Of course, it had no effect.
Exactly a week later, Enkrid's side no longer hurt.
"Is it thanks to the ointment?"
He healed quickly.
As bedtime approached, Krang asked, "You're heading back tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
Today had been uneventful.
The minstrel who returned after a week sang a hymn to Cypress right next to the infirmary in the morning.
The soldier on guard duty overslept.
While on a light stroll at midday, Enkrid saw Krais.
Big Eyes didn't look well.
Before he could ask anything, Krais walked away briskly.
The rest of the day passed without incident.
As infirmary patients didn't stand watch, Enkrid had been able to rest thoroughly.
"Sleep well, Enkrid."
"You too, Krang."
"Once we're back, I'll deal with both of you," Vengeance chimed in with his usual farewell.
With that, Enkrid closed his eyes and fell asleep.
And then—
"Cypress! Cypress!"
The minstrel's singing woke him.
"Again today?"
He had heard the minstrel never stayed in one place for more than two days, moving from barracks to barracks.
Today, the song should have come from farther away.
Why was he here again?
"Damn it, where's breakfast?" Vengeance grumbled upon waking.
Hearing him, Enkrid's hair stood on end.
He had heard those exact words yesterday.
No, in the repeated today.
"Did the soldier oversleep this morning too?" Enkrid asked.
Vengeance gave him a strange look before laughing.
"What nonsense is this? Yesterday, breakfast came on time."
Enkrid let out a sigh of disbelief.
It was clear now.
Today had repeated itself.
This meant—
"I must have died in my sleep, without a sound."

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