Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 422 - The Apostle of Curses Arrives
The boatman felt an ominous presence but couldn't discern its source.
Although the source of foreboding wasn't always a person, this time, it indeed was.
In the hierarchy of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings, those overseeing small parishes were bishops, while those managing several parishes were archbishops. Above them were the Apostles—figures of rare and immense power.
And now, one such Apostle had personally stepped forth.
His name was Reddit.
"I shall turn him into nothing but fodder for the worms."
Reddit steadied his mind as he envisioned Enkrid.
When he stirred his Will, his innate authority surged to life. Yet, Reddit did not unleash it indiscriminately; he amassed its power solely to destroy his target.
The Apostles of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings were beings born with unique powers.
Reddit, born in a village near the Demonic Abyss, exterminated not only the villagers but also their livestock before he turned ten.
His natural ability was Cursing.
With just a glance, he could burst someone's heart or cause insects to fester within their skin.
He hadn't always been an Apostle. That change came when he was fifteen.
Wandering the continent, known as the Incarnation of Demons, Reddit encountered someone immune to his abilities.
"You're quite amusing."
This person remained unscathed when his heart should have burst, even as insects erupted from his arms and swarmed over his body. He didn't so much as furrow his brow.
Even when flies gnawed at his flesh, he smiled.
"Do more."
Nothing worked on him.
"Follow me, and I'll show you how your meager powers can become true authority."
When the smiling man spoke, Reddit saw him enveloped in radiant light. He was salvation incarnate.
"Who are you?" Reddit asked.
The man replied with a serene smile.
"I am the advocate for those betrayed by false gods, a penitent walking the thorny path for my master."
Tears welled in Reddit's eyes.
He felt it then. His life thus far had been for this moment, for this man.
"Follow the Father. I will open a new world for you."
The one who had found him was an Apostle of the Holy Land of Demonic Teachings.
Reddit accepted his teachings.
Under rigorous training, his power was no longer just a curse but a recognized authority.
Thus, he became the Apostle of Curses.
"Father, I will return soon."
The Wolf Bishop was dead, and their plans had been systematically thwarted.
The culprit was clear—Enkrid. His name was now infamous among the faith's leadership.
Such insolence could no longer be ignored.
The Apostle who had taken him in—the man Reddit now called Father—nodded in approval.
Grinding his teeth, Reddit clasped his pus-oozing hands together in a semblance of prayer and bowed his head.
The Father Apostle spoke.
"Go and show them that none may hinder our work."
Under the bright sunlight on the bustling road, they parted ways.
By the time the civil war in Naurilia ended, the Apostle had already infiltrated the kingdom.
Due to his innate authority, Reddit couldn't ride a horse or keep people nearby for long.
Anyone staying close to him for more than a week would inevitably encounter calamity.
His controlled curses could burst hearts or infest skin with insects, but the unrestrained misfortune surrounding him led to lightning strikes or landslides.
His curse was so potent that even a light scratch from a tree branch could fester and prove fatal.
He was a walking curse caster.
Despite no formal training, his innate ability surpassed any shaman, earning the title of Apostle.
Through training, he refined his powers further.
The fewer people around him, the stronger his curses of heart-bursting and insect-infestation became.
However, accumulating this cursed power required careful control.
If he stored it for too long, the misfortune would rebound on him.
For this mission, Reddit pushed his limits, gathering an immense reserve of cursed energy.
His body bore the cost. His skin turned soft and pus-ridden, his face a patchwork of scars resembling a ghoul's visage.
Even his internal organs struggled, barely functioning, while his brittle bones and atrophied muscles screamed with every step.
Reddit concealed himself beneath a large cloak and hood as he reached the Border Guard.
"Who are you, and where are you from?"
"Just a traveler. Cough, cough."
Even speaking a few words made his throat itch and lungs burn.
"Perhaps I've overdone it this time."
Reddit realized he had accumulated too much cursed energy.
Still, it wouldn't be long now. Soon, the pain would subside.
For someone like him, releasing the curse onto a victim provided temporary relief.
This was the only way he could survive.
If not, he wouldn't have slaughtered his village, wandered the continent, or earned the moniker of the Demon of Curses.
Now, as an Apostle of Curses, he was content.
"You seem unwell."
"There's a clinic inside; you should check it out."
The gate guards at Border Guard took one look at him and waved him through without asking for a bribe.
The trade city's guards were focused solely on their duties.
As Reddit passed through, one guard frowned at the pus dripping from his nose.
"Be sure to get treated."
Reddit nodded and entered.
There was no need for an inn; he headed straight for the barracks.
Enkrid was known for his obsessive training.
"Enkrid!" A voice caught his attention.
He turned to see a black-haired, blue-eyed man in front of a smithy, donning metal gauntlets.
It was a sign the Demon God was watching over him.
"The True God watches over me."
Reddit recited the teachings, focusing all his power on a single wave of curse aimed at Enkrid.
But a wave wasn't enough.
Reddit stepped forward, his cursed body protesting every movement.
Pain would soon be forgotten.
Reaching out his hand, he brushed against Enkrid.
"An honor... sir," he murmured, pretending to be a citizen.
Enkrid, unprepared, felt Reddit's hand touch him.
"To the Apostle of War, I ask this: Did you truly spare the heretic? Surely you understand that doing so is tantamount to declaring yourself one of them?"
Audin had a dream.
A fragment of the past unfolded, and the face of someone speaking to him began to distort.
The twisted face soon turned into a grotesque creature, molded from mud.
The creature shuffled forward awkwardly, dragging its clumsy stumps, unworthy of being called legs. Watching it, Audin could sense it had trudged a great distance.
The creature crawled forward, almost slithering, until it reached a person, melted into them, and crushed them.
Upon closer inspection, the crushed figure was none other than the General Brother.
"By the Lord...?"
Audin believed this to be a kind of prophetic dream. While he couldn't determine the true identity of the mud creature, he felt certain some great danger was approaching.
Awakening, Audin realized he'd briefly dozed off in broad daylight while seated upright.
It must have been arranged by divine will, using the dream to deliver a revelation.
Audin's gaze settled on the mad barbarian.
"Where has the General Brother gone?"
"To the city, to meet with a blacksmith."
Rem had just returned with his new axe and was swinging it to get a feel for it.
It was a different weapon from what he'd used so far but shared enough similarities with his old weapon to make adapting relatively easy. Rem was in the midst of repeating this adjustment process.
Audin sighed as he spoke to him.
"If we are too late, it will be because the Lord was negligent."
Audin, normally unthinkable in his behavior, cursed the heavens and began to move.
Rem, puzzled, wondered what had come over him.
What exactly is foreboding?
Enkrid awaited the moment the ferryman's sense of unease would materialize—not with excitement, but with patience.
Yet no news arrived.
Even so, he was not anxious. Life continued as usual.
"Let's spar once I've gotten used to this."
Rem entered with his new axe, which glowed faintly in the sunlight, forged from Lewisian steel.
Anyone could see it wasn't an ordinary weapon.
"How long will you need to adjust?"
"Give me a day. Why are you so eager to get thrashed?"
It was their typical lighthearted banter.
"Oh, by the way, the blacksmith said he has something to give."
"Why didn't you bring it back yourself?"
"Said he wanted to hand it over personally."
Rem thought back to the craftsman who'd tried to give his axe an odd name.
Though he considered taking it by force, the axe he'd received was far too satisfactory to risk offending the smith.
Enkrid nodded.
A royal blacksmith wanting to personally deliver his creation—he could understand that sentiment.
That difference in understanding was likely what set him apart from someone like Rem.
"Sure, why not?"
What was the harm in making a quick trip?
Being a general hadn't changed his daily routine.
It was only other commanders' attitudes that had shifted.
Chiefly, Battalion Commander Graham maintained a courteous demeanor.
So did leaders like Lieutenant Vengeance and Squad Leader Bell.
Beyond that, there were the admiring stares of those who saw him as more than a leader.
Of course, there were exceptions.
His subordinates, for instance, and Shinar—they remained unchanged.
Lost in thought, Enkrid noticed Audin seated off to the side, asleep in a posture so disciplined it was almost impressive.
With that, he descended into the marketplace to find the forge.
It was hot, befitting the season of the salamander.
The salamander, a creature of flame, was sometimes called a fire spirit and sometimes a fire monster.
Seasons of extreme heat were often named in its honor.
Summer sunlight filtered through the trees, casting patterns on the ground.
As he walked, Enkrid pondered new techniques, how to train, and the best ways to apply them.
Once he retrieved what was waiting for him and sparred with Rem, today would be just as fulfilling as any other.
After a brief walk, he arrived at the forge, where the blacksmith greeted him, dripping with sweat.
"The metal from your previous sword was exceptional. While I couldn't restore it as a blade due to the damaged core, I made this."
The craftsman, clearly proud, presented a gauntlet forged from the melted remains of Enkrid's old sword, Silver.
The metallic gauntlet was reinforced with leather on the inside, layered further with fabric for cushioning.
Pure metal wouldn't absorb shock well, after all.
The exterior was polished to smooth curves, making it excellent for deflecting or parrying weapons.
"Your craftsmanship is exceptional."
Enkrid didn't hold back his praise, thinking it a fine gift.
As he turned to leave with the gauntlet, someone called out to him. "Enkrid, sir!"
It was a shoemaker he'd met once before. The man had discovered a mage hiding beneath his shop, a moment when Enkrid had unlocked the Gate of Intuition.
It was a memory impossible to forget.
"Ah, I was just so thrilled to see you..."
The cobbler's tone was unusually formal—understandable, given how much had changed for Enkrid since that day.
The shoemaker worried the now-elevated noble might reprimand him.
"How's your daughter?"
"Are you interested in her?"
"Not like that."
As they exchanged simple pleasantries, another figure approached Enkrid.
"I-it's an honor."
The stranger stammered as they extended a hand. Enkrid thought little of it.
Plenty of people recognized him, from curious duelists to admirers offering greetings.
It never crossed his mind that this could be the foreboding figure the ferryman had warned of.
Why would it?
The man's shabby appearance aside, it was evident he posed no physical threat.
From his stance to his aura, everything screamed vulnerability.
Even a fifteen-year-old could have overpowered him.
The stranger's hand brushed against Enkrid's arm.
"How dare you touch him?"
The shoemaker erupted, furious on Enkrid's behalf.
Enkrid waved it off.
He had felt something in the moment of contact, but it was fleeting—impossible to identify.
Only a vague sensation remained.
"Wh-what is this?"
The man's voice trembled, his reaction one of profound shock.
Enkrid blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in demeanor.
"Must be a deeply troubled soul."
He took the man's hand in his own, refusing to judge someone based on appearances alone.
It was only right.
"A wretched curse?" Even the ferryman couldn't see everything.
He could observe the patterns of repeated days, but when foreboding loomed, its exact nature often escaped him.
Who could have predicted that this pitiful creature would bring a curse?
The ferryman felt a rare pang of embarrassment.
He'd warned of looming danger for days, only for it to manifest as a curse.
No curse in the world could truly harm this madman.
The stronger curse always eats away the weaker one.
The ferryman knew this well, for many reasons.
"Idiots," he muttered, cursing those who had sent the pitiful man.
Whoever they were, they deserved nothing but contempt.
"Moronic fools."

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