Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 149 - 149 - Feeling Honor
Chapter 149 - Feeling Honor
Amid the tall leaves behind the platform, petals of red and pink swirled in the air.
From the flower field beyond the training grounds, bright yellow blossoms revealed themselves in full splendor.
The scent of sweat filled the air, mixing with the sight of flowers blooming in a place where spears and blades clashed.
Was it a remnant from the days when Border Guard was still a trading city?
Even after that, maintaining the flower field remained a duty of the battalion commander in charge of the city.
A testament, they said, to the city's safety.
Winter had passed, and spring had come.
Was it the first time in a while he'd seen flowers?
"This is a symbol of the city's safety."
A florist had once said those words.
Several florists in the city were responsible for tending to the flower field of Border Guard.
Looking at the flowers, a thought arose.
It was important to ease the tension in one's shoulders.
Not to stiffen too much.
To stay relaxed without becoming lax.
Though it didn't seem like something that suited him, perhaps there were times when watching flowers and loosening up was necessary.
As he relaxed his shoulders, he noticed the shape of the petals.
They resembled swords, straight and sharp.
What was this flower called again?
Its red petals jutted out in a distinct manner—he clearly remembered its nickname.
Sword Flower.
A flower known as the Blade Bloom.
It was said to only react to the magic of spring.
Looking at the sword-like petals, a thought surfaced—
'When bringing a sword down vertically, how can I make it cleaner?'
That question set off a journey of contemplation in his mind.
That mustached man.
A man who had walked a completely different path.
Even from Ragna's sword, he had never felt such refined precision.
A blade honed not only by talent but by relentless effort.
It resonated with him.
So, he wanted it.
Desired it.
To possess it, to consume it, to make it his own.
His thirst remained unquenched.
Like a traveler in the desert yearning for a sip of water.
For Enkrid, that thirst was for the sword and knighthood, for dreams and skill.
'Slowly.'
If one rushed too fast, they would trip and fall.
Had anything ever turned out well when done in haste?
Even without talent, there were things one could see by neither faltering nor despairing.
That was neither impatience nor complacency.
It was the balance between two opposing paces.
To be relaxed yet not loose.
That was the only way to run at the fastest speed within one's ability.
With these thoughts, Enkrid stepped onto the platform.
At the end of his contemplation, the stage awaited.
And in front of him stood Marcus.
They faced each other and exchanged glances.
Marcus' eyes softened, curving slightly as if he were about to play a mischievous trick.
The training grounds were silent.
Somehow, the entire atmosphere felt different.
A warm breeze drifted through the sunlight.
Petals swayed in rhythm with the wind.
A peaceful, tranquil afternoon.
It reminded him of the moment Audin's divinity had touched his body.
That same serenity enveloped the surroundings.
"I've been thinking."
Marcus spoke, his voice breaking the silence.
It wasn't loud enough to reach every corner of the training grounds,
but enough for those nearby to hear.
"Thinking about what?"
Enkrid replied, standing straight.
"What should I give to satisfy a soldier who has accomplished so much?"
At those words, thoughts of fine swords or even a bag of Krona flickered through Enkrid's mind.
But would he truly be satisfied with that?
Hardly.
It would bring some pleasure, but...
What if he took it one step further?
'A magic armor?'
By now, he had a rough understanding of the value of the leather armor wrapped around him.
And that its value was slowly diminishing.
Enchantments were not eternal.
Magic equipment had its limits.
He had only heard such things in passing, unsure if they were true—
but experience had proven it.
The lifespan of his leather armor was nearing its end.
Even his leather gauntlets were something akin to magic gear.
If not, how could they possess such durability?
If not for these gauntlets, back when he fought the Frog,
he wouldn't have just sprained his wrist—he would have lost a hand.
'The very thought is horrifying.'
If he had died after losing a wrist,
would he have ended up like some one-armed swordsman?
Losing a wrist was better than losing an arm,
but both were still the worst outcomes.
Looking back, there were far too many things to be cautious about.
Losing one's life?
It would be painful, but in a way, that was a welcome fate.
But suffering fatal injuries and living to see another day...
'Too many things to consider.'
Still, Enkrid had not sunk into deep contemplation.
He wasn't the type to overthink things to begin with.
Nor did he have the luxury to do so.
'Useless thoughts.'
Rather than just relaxing his shoulders, his mind was being cluttered with distractions.
He let them go.
Even immersing himself fully in the sword and his dream wouldn't be enough.
Would he truly become a knight?
The question still remained, and the answer was yet to come.
"So, I made a decision."
Marcus continued.
Enkrid focused his attention on the man before him.
Listening attentively.
A proper attitude of listening.
The word "expect" was spoken.
He knew well that he wouldn't normally show any emotion for trivial matters.
Honestly, he had no expectations.
Afterward, Battalion Commander Marcus gave him Krona a splendid dagger.
A dagger said to be awarded only to those who have made significant contributions to the royal family.
When he received it, he found the balance terrible.
It had no practicality; it was just a symbol of status.
"By presenting the royal dagger, your position is guaranteed. If you ever show it in the capital, you will become a guest of the royal family."
Enkrid truly thought it was nothing special.
He genuinely believed so.
However, the soldiers beneath the platform thought differently.
"...Enkrid."
"Enkrid."
"Enkrid."
There were no childish cheers like "Long live!"
It was simply the entire company chanting Enkrid's name.
Without cheers or shouts, just murmurs.
Everyday muttering.
Words leaving their mouths.
But when hundreds of soldiers spoke as one,
"Enkrid."
It hit his ears like a roar.
"Heh, looks like they're more excited than you. Turn around."
At Marcus's words, Enkrid turned his body.
It was quite an amusing sight.
Ten days after returning from the battlefield, he felt closer to the men in the unit than before.
Those who had previously spoken filthy words, calling him names, had now lowered their heads.
Those seeing him for the first time looked at him with respect and admiration.
Even on the battlefield, he had already been recognized.
Back then, the battalion commander had called for cheers.
But whose cheers were those?
He thought it was a very nice experience.
But this was different.
The platform was high.
Just the height of a person.
So, he could look down from above.
He could see the heat being emitted by all the soldiers.
That heat took shape and surrounded him.
He suddenly realized that his actions had created this moment.
"What makes a knight?"
Skill?
If someone is just good with a sword, that doesn't make them a knight.
"If that's what you wanted, you should have been a mercenary."
The words of a sword instructor from a certain city still echoed in his mind.
He had asked that question back then:
What makes a knight?
What makes one worthy of being called a knight?
"Skill is, of course, necessary."
On top of skill, honor and achievements are piled up, proving oneself.
"Although things have changed a bit nowadays, in the past, when legends were discussed, that was the way."
Had he just wanted to be someone who wielded a sword well?
No, that wasn't it.
His childhood dream may have started like that.
But as he grew older and saw the limits of his talent,
He was struck in the stomach by a much younger man's sword.
He lost comrades.
He realized that skill and character do not always align.
Even while knowing his limitations, he continued to wield his sword.
With a pure heart, as if this moment might be his last.
Living today as if tomorrow would never come.
He threw himself into the waves of time that kept repeating.
Being swept by the waves, but still never forgetting his sword.
He carried his broken dreams.
For a long time, where did the heart that sustained Enkrid come from?
A knight is someone who keeps the standards they set for themselves.
That's what Enkrid believed.
A person who moves forward without forgetting honor.
He decided to live that way.
So, perhaps it was natural that he felt joy in moments like this.
Standing before these men, proving himself.
Feeling honor.
"This is fun."
Enkrid murmured quietly.
It was hard to sense emotion from just the voice.
But behind him, Marcus felt something unfamiliar in Enkrid's words.
It was the same as before.
Something he had forgotten for a while.
Sword and light.
"Is it passion?"
Marcus smiled.
He really thought Enkrid was an interesting man.
So, he was curious about what kind of effect his prepared gift would have on the man before him.
"That's all."
Marcus said,
And Enkrid turned to show his military etiquette.
"Enkrid."
He descended through the soldiers chanting his name, like a chant.
As the soldiers parted, a path opened.
"That's nice."
He saw his own squad members welcoming him.
Rem grinning widely.
Jaxen looking on indifferently, leaning on one leg.
"You were like a messenger responding to a prayer, brother."
Audin muttered something incomprehensible.
"Are we leaving now?"
Ragna, who found this whole event tedious.
"Nice."
Krais, who had no interest unless it involved him.
Alongside them, Andrew and Mac called out his name with flushed faces.
"Enkrid."
"Captain."
Well, this wasn't just a good experience; it was more than that.
If this wasn't enjoyable, it would be strange.
"Let's go back."
But nothing changed.
Ten days had passed since returning, and the Border Guard was quiet.
The rewards and honors were over.
So what should be done now?
Of course, training.
He was struggling with how to wield a sword.
"Hey, today is a party! Let's eat and die!"
From the stage, Marcus revealed his true intentions.
Can the battalion commander really act this recklessly?
Aren't the people standing behind him nobles?
As expected, Enkrid noticed a group of nobles frowning as he turned away.
But no one stepped forward to say anything.
Why was that?
Did he say he'd cut their heads off if they interfered?
"No, wait, that's something someone like Rem would do."
Marcus was a commander from the capital.
There was no reason or need for him to do something so reckless.
Then why were the nobles reacting that way?
Enkrid decided not to concern himself with the nobles' matters.
There was no need to investigate.
What would it change?
Knowing wouldn't make a difference.
"Party!"
"Cheers!"
"Sounds good! I like it!"
The soldiers shouted.
It almost felt like his eardrums were going to burst.
"What, are we getting something good? If it's just cheap wine, I feel like I might want to split that bastard's head open with my axe."
Rem grinned at the mention of the party.
But this bastard actually seemed to be in a good mood.
The problem was that when he was in a good mood, he wanted to split heads open.
"No, wait, is it lucky that it's not my head?"
Now that he thought about it, Rem had never seriously said he wanted to split Enkrid's head open.
He sometimes joked about wanting to open up his head to see what's inside, but it was just a joke.
"It's annoying."
Ragna honestly voiced her feelings.
Enkrid wanted to cast his vote for Ragna's opinion.
He wanted to train.
He wanted to attach the mustache-shaped sword he had seen to his own body as soon as possible.
"A stiff head only sees stiff things. We need to rest when it's time to rest."
While thinking this, Jaxen spoke.
Maybe it was due to his sharp senses, but he seemed to understand Enkrid's state.
"Everyone, get some rest. I'll be back in a moment."
Enkrid heard Krais' voice from behind, growing distant as he ran.
When a party was held, a gambling den naturally opened.
And if it was a gambling den, Krais was probably the one running it.
He wasn't actually gambling but instead ran the game to take a commission.
Krais still couldn't understand how people would waste Krona on gambling.
"Seriously, why throw Krona at random hands? If you meet a real gambler, you'll be wiped out."
It made sense that there was no reason to use Krona for gambling.
Krais disappeared among the soldiers.
Enkrid watched his retreating back, realizing how strange it was that the big-eyed soldier had come up with a clever strategy.
"No splitting heads, huh? Savage brother."
From behind, Audin murmured.
In the front, the battalion commander happily raised a bottle of alcohol.
"This is some good wine! Everyone will drink the same today! Any objections? Those who have one, come at me!"
That guy didn't seem normal either.
Marcus shouted as he offered the wine.
Watching this, Finn approached and spoke.
"Want to have a drink?"
"Eh?"
It had been a while since he had a drink.
It wasn't something he normally did.
He was too busy training.
Drinking would dull his control over his body.
That meant he wouldn't be able to train properly.
Enjoying the party and drinking were different matters.
He was about to kindly refuse.
"No, human girl, that seat is mine. He's my fiancée."
A voice from behind.
Eh?
"Fiancée? A fairy?"
Finn murmured.
Enkrid stepped back.
The fairy commander approached silently.
"Drink with me."
Was that a command or a suggestion?
A strange tension arose as Finn and the fairy commander appeared.
"Ahh."
In the meantime, Esther joined in, letting out a fierce cry before rushing into Enkrid's arms.
What was this situation?
"...Damn seductive force."
Rem muttered as he watched.
Before Enkrid could explain it was a misunderstanding, the soldiers around him started cheering, calling his name in a different manner.
"Commander of Seductive Force!"
Damn it, just when he thought they had forgotten, those words came up again.

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