Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 252 - 252 - The Horse Thought This to Itself.
After Enkrid and his group departed, Torres heard a feral scream echoing from the forest.
"Shouldn't we send reinforcements?"
A clueless soldier asked, to which Hyo-wun, a guard standing nearby, responded in his stead.
"Reinforcements? Those four could probably roast an entire domain for breakfast."
Hyo-wun, a swordsman with strong pride stemming from his Northern roots, spoke with certainty. Even Torres agreed with his assessment.
"Leave them be. They'll handle it."
Who was really supposed to worry about whom?
Torres instructed his soldiers to gather centaur sinews and intact beast hides, while the remaining corpses were burned.
How many have we lost?
Several dozen had died in the previous battles, and Torres himself had narrowly escaped death during the first skirmish. Zimmer had nearly been killed as well.
It had been a crisis of immense proportions, one where Torres had even considered desertion.
He had voiced his concerns directly:
"Lord Commander—no, my lord—if we stay here, we're finished. Barricading ourselves inside the castle won't hold for long."
The fortress had towers, but no moat. When the centaurs came charging in with their massive wooden clubs, tearing trees apart to forge their weapons, the walls shook relentlessly.
What if the reinforcements didn't arrive?
"And if we abandon the walls, do you have a solution?"
The lord of the castle had asked, challenging him.
Torres had none. Outside was even deadlier.
The creatures, centaurs by name, were relentless. Evading them was harder than holding the walls.
Trapped on all sides.
All they could do was send out a request for reinforcements.
This centaur colony, led by an extraordinary leader, inspired bone-deep terror.
When its leader howled, soldiers faltered. Some even wet themselves.
Yet this seemingly hopeless situation had been resolved by fewer than ten people.
Fwoosh!
Crackle, crackle.
Among the carnage of beasts and monsters, there were three casualties.
One soldier had misstepped and been crushed under a beast's foot. Two others, eager to demonstrate the bravery of the East, had charged ahead recklessly and met their end.
Only three dead.
The number of beasts and monsters slain? Too many to count. Over two hundred, at the very least.
The Madmen Unit wasn't solely responsible for this staggering victory. They were the cutting edge of the assault, shredding through the enemy like a singular, devastating blade.
But the remaining monsters had been dispatched by the rest of the soldiers.
The sky was overcast, threatening snow.
After a grueling day of cleaning up the battlefield and taking brief, restless naps, Torres, while wandering, spotted the returning group passing through the fortress gates.
It was drizzling—soon to turn into sleet with the dropping temperature.
Having risen early to oversee the aftermath of the battle, Torres could finally smile.
It was a day to be thankful for survival and to rejoice in victory.
The ones who had delivered that triumph were now back.
Enkrid and the Madmen Unit walked in with the hazy sunlight at their backs.
The heat of battle had long dissipated, but their presence still carried a weight that silenced all.
"Colony Slayers," someone murmured, breaking the stillness.
A soldier by the gates repeated the phrase louder, and soon the crowd joined in a thunderous chant:
"Colony Slayers!"
"Long live the Madmen Unit!"
"Woohoo!"
"They're amazing!"
"Marry me!"
"Gods! Thank you!"
Relief, victory, and admiration for the overwhelming power displayed combined in a raucous cheer.
As the drizzle turned to frost, Torres watched Enkrid's approach.
Behind him trailed a wild horse emanating a strange energy, and his team carried crates and the glaive of the colony leader, which now rested in Rem's hands. But none of that mattered.
Torres straightened, placed his feet together, and pressed a hand to his waist in a salute.
Bowing his head, he expressed his gratitude for their salvation and the defense of the castle.
Enkrid acknowledged him with a mere nod before walking past.
Behind him, Rem spoke up.
"Hey, know any decent blacksmiths?"
"There's a dwarf working near the outskirts of the market."
"Great."
Rem walked on, followed by the rest of the unit, who paid no heed to the cheers that echoed around them.
The raucous gratitude of the soldiers couldn't hold them back.
"They said there's a dwarf?"
A master of metallurgy, smelting, crafting, and skill—renowned as the epitome of artisanship.
Of course, not every dwarf is a master blacksmith. Elves have their own superior metallurgy, and among humans, there are exceptional craftsmen as well.
However, on average, dwarves are known for their superior and fundamentally exceptional smithing and metallurgy skills.
So when a dwarf wandered into a human domain, it naturally piqued interest.
Especially when such a craftsman was currently needed.
Though dwarves were infamous for their steep demands, no one here hesitated to pour out kronas in exchange for weapons.
In fact, many thought it better to spend some gold for a quality sword.
For those who live and die by the blade, a good weapon was like an extra arm, and sturdy armor was another life.
Even Enkrid felt the absence of a blade on his right hip.
"It wouldn't hurt to have another sword,"
he thought.
A sword forged by a dwarf would undoubtedly be worth having.
He had grown used to cobbling together armor from whatever he could find, and he had just acquired an inner layer made from beast-hide, wound tightly like a bandage.
As they entered the fortress, Lord Martai himself came to express his gratitude.
"Thanks to you," he said.
"No need to mention it," Enkrid replied, observing the courtesies.
After advising them to rest, the lord left.
"We don't have private rooms here. This place is just as barren as the border garrisons," Torres remarked as he followed behind.
Their assigned quarters turned out to be a shared room with eight simple beds lined up in a row.
Just as Torres said, the place was desolate. Apart from the beds, there wasn't a single piece of furniture.
The room had no purpose other than sleeping.
"Shall we stake it here?"
A soldier skilled in handling horses approached, eyeing the wild horse cautiously.
The horse snorted. It seemed to understand it was the subject of discussion, shaking its head.
"Leave it," Enkrid said casually.
He had brought the horse along on a whim, and it had followed.
That was all there was to it. If the horse wanted to leave, he would let it go.
Of course, the horse had no intention of leaving.
With its blood tainted by a monster, it was now half-beast. Its herd instinctively avoided it, sensing the fearsome presence of the monster's blood.
For the same reason, it couldn't enter the stables.
As a result, the wild horse had to leave its home. It was the only way for the rest of the herd to live safely.
As the herd's leader, this was its duty. It had even helped dispose of the burning skull as a final act.
Although, technically, the human before it had finished the job.
Just as Enkrid felt an inexplicable closeness to the horse, the horse also felt a peculiar connection to him. This was what the world called
bonding.
"Good work. Rest," Enkrid said.
The horse neighed softly, as if understanding.
Watching this interaction, Rem stared quietly before speaking up.
"Hey, is there any chance that thing turns into a human too?"
"It doesn't," Enkrid replied firmly.
Unlike Esther, he instinctively knew this for certain.
"Don't be so sure. Who would've guessed the leopard could turn human?" Rem teased, but no one paid him any mind.
While unpacking and sorting through their crates, Krais returned.
"What is that thing?"
He had been busy even here in Martai, running around with a constant air of urgency. Now, seeing the wild horse standing idly outside their quarters, he couldn't take his eyes off it.
"It's a horse," Enkrid answered plainly.
Krais, looking skeptical, asked again, "Does it turn into a human too?"
He wasn't entirely unreasonable—after all, Esther's transformation had set a precedent.
"It's male. And just so you know, if you try to check from behind, you'll get your skull bashed in," Enkrid warned.
While Esther had been fierce, this wild horse carried monster blood. If Krais wasn't careful, he might end up with hoof prints on his chest.
"Do I look like Rem to you?" Krais retorted indignantly.
"Did anyone call you an idiot?"
"What I mean is, I don't go around checking a horse's balls from behind," Krais clarified.
"I was just giving you a heads-up."
Enkrid shrugged. With Krais being as peculiar as he was, it didn't hurt to warn him.
"Do you even realize I'm right here listening to all this?"
"Yeah."
As soon as Rem voiced his complaint, Krais got smacked by him on the head.
Thwack!
"Argh!"
Considering the ridiculous conversation that had just transpired, Krais accepted the blow without protest.
After rubbing the back of his head a few times, the conversation moved on. To be precise, Krais's attention shifted to something inside the quarters as soon as they entered. A scent lingered in the air. The scent of jewels.
"What's in those chests?"
"Gems," Enkrid answered.
Krais's eyes immediately sparkled with interest.
As always, humans had a strange talent for turning their eyes into golden coins at the mere mention of wealth.
Opening the chests one by one, Krais let out a whistle.
"There's quite a haul here."
"Did you see the dwarf that came into the village?"
Ragna, who had been watching Krais examine the gems and coins, asked.
Hmm?
Did Ragna have an interest as well? Was he perhaps tired of using scavenged swords?
While mulling over this thought, Enkrid watched as Krais replied, "Oh, I was just about to mention that. It really is a dwarf. I've never seen one before, but they're quite... pretty?"
Pretty?
What did he mean by that? To confirm, he'd have to see for himself.
After spending the late afternoon unpacking and loosening up his body using the
Isolation technique
, Enkrid decided to visit the estate tomorrow.
More accurately, his goal was to meet the dwarven blacksmith.
After eating dinner, Enkrid closed his eyes. It was time to do what he always did: reflect.
"What if I hadn't missed at the start?"
Because he had let the monster leader slip away, he had to chase it. During the pursuit, he experienced an uncanny focus.
He had always combined concentration with
Sense of Evasion
, but the moment he hurled his sword at the leader's head felt different.
Was it
Will
at work?
No, it wasn't. He now understood what
Will
was.
It was a force rooted in willpower, an intangible strength.
A mysterious phenomenon, difficult to explain in human terms.
While it bore some resemblance to magic or sorcery, it was a power confined to individuals.
It manifested in those who trained their bodies, wielded weapons, or turned their fists into their weapons.
So, no.
What Enkrid felt when he struck the monster leader—when he hurled his sword at its skull—was something crushed, fused, and unified.
He had seen what he needed to do next, and it felt as though his senses had merged into a new form.
"It's called
Sense Arts
," he remembered Jaxen explaining during training.
The countless sparring sessions with Fel, his prior experiences, the insights gained through life, mindset, and even the rejection he had honed through
Will
It all came together to create that moment.
"There's no need to separate the sixth sense and evasion. It's simply
Sense Arts
," Jaxen had said.
Damn Jaxen.
His explanations were as convoluted as Rem's.
At the time, none of it made sense.
Enkrid closed his eyes, merging his senses. He stepped into the realm of the sixth sense. Without dividing them, his senses allowed him to hear, see, and feel.
Half-opening his eyes, he looked ahead. He saw Audin, praying.
"May he follow the will of the Father. Watch over the lamb, that it may not lose its way."
A prayer for Ragna?
That wasn't important. What mattered was that Enkrid felt as though he had opened a third eye.
Despite Audin's thick tunic and wide cloak, Enkrid sensed his body beneath.
The firm muscles, the bursting strength, the unwavering posture even in prayer—
Audin's body was something perfected.
The realization that struck Enkrid came naturally. Without realizing it, he slightly parted his lips, lost in thought.
Through the
Isolation technique
, he saw a new path forward.
The path revealed by merging his senses.
"Without training the body, none of this matters."
Everything starts with the body.
It was an unexpected realization, yet also something he had always known.
To reaffirm what he already understood was, in its way, another form of insight.
Enkrid decided on the direction of his physical training.
Of course, he would need Audin's help.
Rem, watching this moment of realization, muttered, "Hey, didn't someone say there's a temple in Martai?"
Beside him, Krais—polishing a gem—answered, "Yes, there is. It's smaller than a shrine, but there's definitely a priest. Though the rumors about it aren't great."
"That guy is definitely broken, should we send him?" Rem murmured.
Krais glanced at Enkrid. With his mouth half-open and drooling, he didn't exactly look normal.
"That's just how he always is," Krais said.
It wasn't the first time they had seen him like this.
While no one else paid much attention, Dunbakel made a bold decision. Mimicking Enkrid, she parted her lips halfway and tried drooling.
From now on, she would learn and follow everything Enkrid did.
As her first step, she intended to discover why he behaved as he did by copying it herself.
"Should I bash your head in? Why are you copying him?" Rem scolded, but Dunbakel remained steadfast in her drooling.
She was certainly mad.
The door to the quarters was half-open, and the wild horse peeked inside.
For a moment, it deliberated.
"Should I leave?"
Should it take this chance to slip away?
It hadn't responded to Enkrid's words by chance.
Even before the monster blood, the horse had been exceptionally intelligent and discerning.
It knew this was the moment to decide.
If it were to leave, it had to be now.
The horse thought this to itself.

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