Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 682: Chapter 681 - Playing with Fire
"What are you doing?"
AnnE, covered in blood, asked.
Enkrid, holding the burning log, answered.
"Playing with fire."
With that, he tossed the log into the dry brush.
It hadn’t rained in days, and the brittle thickets mixed with thin brown brambles caught fire in an instant.
Fwoosh!
In just a few breaths, the flames had risen to Enkrid’s waist.
"...What?"
AnnE asked again, but the others already understood why he did it.
It was dark—he was using the fire to illuminate the area and flush out whoever was hiding.
They watched as the flames grew larger than anyone present.
If someone claimed a giant of fire had arrived, they might have believed it.
Enkrid sharpened his senses as he observed the rising blaze.
’Where are you?’
Remaining on guard, he stepped in front of AnnE.
The scent was still there.
Ragna, noticing Enkrid’s position, approached and stood behind Anne.
"What’s going on?"
Anne couldn’t sense any killing intent.
But she wasn’t stupid—just from the atmosphere, she could tell something was wrong.
These two were standing in positions to protect her.
Not long ago, a beast’s claw had been severed above her head, and blood had splattered down.
"Looks like you’re the target. You didn’t steal Krona from someone and run, did you?"
Enkrid’s words carried a trace of humor.
Then he glanced at Anne.
If the person they needed to protect became too frightened, it would be a problem.
Was that why he said it?
But Anne didn’t panic.
She wasn’t the type to be easily shaken.
After all, she had traveled all the way to Border Guard alone, relying on a merchant caravan.
"Not much."
She wiped the black blood running down her face.
"You owe a debt?"
"A little. It was urgent at the time. If they come for it, help me pay them back."
"...Alright."
Before coming to Border Guard, Enkrid had worked as a bodyguard.
Most of the time, it had been like playing the role of a noblewoman’s escort doll, but he had still learned a thing or two.
When the enemy’s target was clear, it made deciding where to stand much simpler.
"What is it?"
Ragna instinctively felt something was off, while Enkrid recognized it through experience.
"A spell."
That was all they needed to know.
Anne knew her role—she kept her mouth shut and stayed still.
The ambush had happened before midnight, and they remained on high alert throughout the night.
The fire hadn’t spread too far.
There had been some dry brush, but the area wasn’t large.
"You don’t plan to burn us all alive here, do you?"
At one point, Grida had cleverly set a counterfire to keep the flames in check.
They spent the dawn surrounded by gray smoke, yet the enemy remained silent.
The best opportunity to strike would have been when the counterfire sent up thick smoke, obscuring their vision—but nothing happened.
Grida hadn’t mentioned it, but that was part of her plan.
Of course, containing the fire was another reason, but she had also been testing the enemy.
And yet, they still didn’t attack.
Enkrid fell into thought.
’Are they cautious? Or afraid?’
Perhaps both?
Without seeing the enemy, predicting their intent was difficult.
Even if he could, he wouldn’t have made careless assumptions.
None of them were so exhausted that they couldn’t fight, but spending the entire night on high alert wasn’t pleasant.
It was an unsettling night—one that gnawed at their nerves.
"This is boring."
Odincar muttered as he watched the rising sun.
Enkrid remained silent, still deep in thought.
’Do they see us as prey?’
The thick, acrid scent that had lingered in the area disappeared with the morning light.
Had the scent faded like a withered flower at the end of its life, or had someone deliberately removed the source right under their noses?
The answer was obvious.
It felt as if they had spent the night locked in a silent duel, swords drawn but unable to strike.
Their enemy remained unseen.
’What is this?’
He had no way of knowing.
Only one thing was certain.
Odincar may have found it dull, but Enkrid did not.
Enkrid never turned down a fight.
Neither Grida nor Magrun had fully grasped this side of him.
Regardless of its form, Enkrid never refused battle.
Without that instinct, he wouldn’t have carved out his history of struggle.
If he lacked it, he would have given up after losing to a kid ten years younger than him.
Fighting wasn’t just about crossing swords with an opponent.
It was about resisting a world that told you to surrender, about battling the despair that threatened to consume you.
And, of course, uncovering whatever tricks were being played in the shadows—this, too, was a fight.
"We should head somewhere with water. We need to wash up."
Enkrid said.
Anne was still drenched in beast blood.
Cleaning up was the first step.
Everyone agreed.
Grida, who had scouted ahead the night before, led them toward a nearby stream.
"There’s a brook up ahead."
She was an exceptional guide.
Enkrid had worked as a scout before, but even among those he had met, Grida’s skills were unparalleled.
She had a keen ability to quickly assess and memorize the surrounding terrain.
While Magrun had led them up to this point, it was Grida who had chosen the safest path.
And now, she was doing the same—finding the quickest route to water.
When gathering firewood, she had taken note of the scent of the soil, the way the trees grew, and the direction in which green plants thrived.
Even though they hadn’t needed water at the time, she had already mapped out the terrain in her head.
Why?
Anyone from a pathfinder’s guild would give the same answer—because that’s what a guide does.
She had also noted areas where beasts might appear, traces of monsters, and even signs of wild animals surviving in the wilderness.
And to someone of her level, last night’s ambush had been strange.
Normally, there would have been no attack at all.
If there was going to be one, there should have at least been warning signs.
Because she had chosen a path where such things shouldn’t have happened.
’It feels like a trap someone has set up.’
At times, intuition could be as sharp a weapon as the sword in one’s hand.
Grida knew that well.
There was something—a faint tick of unease lingering in her mind.
Yet, for now, she had no words to explain it.
As she walked, lost in thought, she reached the waterway as expected.
A shallow stream, just deep enough to cover her ankles, flowed gently beneath her feet.
Turning to face her companions, she spotted the freckled healer in her view—Anne.
’Why target that girl?’
She was barely twenty—perhaps even younger.
Just old enough to be called an adult, yet already an exceptional healer.
That was all Grida knew about her.
There were reasons one might be targeted—vengeance, hidden motives, or something beyond her knowledge.
But even considering such possibilities, something still didn’t add up.
The enemy had remained hidden despite having nowhere to hide.
’How common is that?’
Someone who could evade not only her senses but also those of the entire group?
That wasn’t easy.
If such a capable individual was present, then why?
Nothing about this situation made sense.
The party used the water to wash up and refill their supplies.
Their horses, too, drank their fill.
Once everyone had quenched their thirst and prepared, they resumed their march forward.
"The weather is nice," Anne remarked, glancing at the sky before shifting her gaze forward.
"And we still have a long way to go."
As she said, the sun shone through the thin veil of clouds.
Other than the small forest they had passed through in search of the waterway, there were no obstructions to their vision.
Ahead lay rolling mounds, rugged but not impassable.
The terrain was open, with dark soil stretching to either side—earth that looked as if it had been kneaded by hand.
"This place was once a volcanic region," Enkrid noted, scanning their surroundings.
"Some say the demonic cult of the Sacred Fire summoned a fire fiend that took root here for a time."
There was a story about a volcanic eruption caused by that very creature.
The terrain was gradually rising.
If they continued on this path, they would eventually reach the mountain range.
Beyond those distant mounds, they could see the gentle slopes of the Pen-Hanil mountain range—a vast spine across the continent, resembling the back of a massive beast.
"Let’s rest here for the night," Grida suggested as the guide, and Enkrid agreed.
The day had been spent on high alert due to an unforeseen circumstance.
It was a sound decision to maintain their condition.
There was no need to force themselves onward.
"That disease—if it really is a disease—doesn’t strike overnight, nor does it kill instantly," Anne stated.
"From what I know, it takes at least two weeks of suffering before death."
Seeking confirmation, she turned to Odincar and Magrun.
Magrun nodded.
"She’s right. You suffer before you die. And there are warning signs, ones we don’t usually speak of."
"Is that so? That’s good to know."
It was Ragna who responded.
Magrun glanced at him.
Why say it’s a relief?
Was he concerned for them?
Magrun had never had any personal interactions with Ragna.
When Ragna had left, Magrun had yet to prove himself as a competent warrior.
"If death is inevitable, it means you still have time to do the things you’ve put off, doesn’t it?"
Ragna added, his tone light.
Magrun, unfamiliar with the man he once was, simply assumed this was Ragna’s nature.
But was this really the same man who had supposedly abandoned training out of boredom?
’Is there something I don’t know?’
Magrun was briefly puzzled, but dismissed it as meaningless suspicion.
"...Yeah, you’re right."
With that, the group paired off for night watch.
Enkrid and Ragna took turns sleeping in alternating shifts.
"I hate this kind of thing."
Odincar muttered as he checked his weapons.
He was among the top warriors in the Yohan family when it came to one-on-one combat, but he despised hunting down hidden foes or chasing after them.
If he couldn’t fight them directly with his sword, why even bother?
That said, his knightly instincts hadn’t dulled, and his training in Yohan had included basic tracking skills.
The only issue was that he had never taken an interest in them—he had learned just enough to get by.
Enkrid and Odincar took the first watch.
They sat near the makeshift tent, fashioned from unpacked saddlebags, and let the wind flow through it.
Sitting in front of the shelter, the two of them passed the time, yawning.
Even Enkrid couldn’t suggest training under these circumstances.
"Wouldn’t hurt to spar a little, would it?"
When Odincar asked, Enkrid was quick to shut him down.
"Are you out of your mind? Or are you just planning to half-heartedly swing your sword while distracted?"
A proper spar required complete focus.
Likewise, maintaining high alert meant any serious sparring was out of the question.
"I know it’s a bad idea."
"Then stop making a habit of asking questions you already know the answer to. It’s a bad habit. Fix it."
Odincar had a tendency to carefully choose his words, not out of fear of making mistakes, but because he hated having to repeat himself if someone failed to understand him the first time.
Yet, Enkrid always understood him immediately.
More than that, he grasped his intent without issue.
Because of that, Odincar felt comfortable speaking freely with him.
"You have an annoying way of talking."
"True. But if something’s on your mind, just say it."
Enkrid had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, making it pointless to beat around the bush.
For him to notice that hesitation was caused by worry—his perception was remarkable.
With a mixture of amusement and intrigue, Odincar finally voiced his thoughts.
"Unlike the family head’s child inside that tent, Yohan is everything to me."
That was true.
Odincar had always been prepared to return to his home, never hiding his loyalty or respect for his house.
"And?"
Enkrid prompted him to continue.
Odincar, without hesitation, spoke bluntly.
"It’s just... I have a bad feeling."
"A bad feeling? Let’s hear it."
"It’s just intuition. Like something’s happened to my family. I know. Just like Magrun said, this isn’t our family’s domain yet, nor is it imperial territory. Only beyond those hills and mountains can we call it imperial land. Though even then, it’s not fully under imperial control."
Odincar pointed to the distant mountain range with his left index finger.
The bright daylight made it easy to see far.
Little was known about the empire’s structure.
Even Odincar, who was raised in the Yohan family, didn’t know the details, so there was nothing more to gain from questioning him.
Besides, what he was trying to say wasn’t about the empire.
"Still, I feel like I have to go protect my family."
There was a mix of belonging and anxiety in his voice.
Enkrid didn’t offer any words of comfort.
"Shouldn’t I be where I’m supposed to be? That’s what I keep thinking."
As the conversation continued, it became clear that Odincar hadn’t wanted to get involved in this from the start.
"Ragna Yohan. Yeah, I’ve heard of him. But was it really necessary for me to be the one to bring him back?"
"If that’s what you think, then why did you come?"
Enkrid picked up a twig and idly traced lines in the dirt.
The sharp tip of the branch sketched patterns, all related to swordsmanship.
"They said there was no one else to send."
"And?"
He trailed off—there was more to it.
Enkrid knew Odincar had a habit of saving the important part for last.
Even without exchanging many words, it was easy to tell.
If one truly listened, certain things became obvious.
"The head of the family told me to leave."
So it was half a command.
Enkrid understood without needing further explanation.
After that trivial conversation, both of them sank into their own thoughts.
A few hours later, when their watch ended, Ragna and Magrun woke up.
"Get some rest. We’ve got a long way to go."
Magrun said as he took over the watch.
Even if they allowed themselves a brief moment of ease, their task remained unchanged.
Enkrid knew that well.
And as he lay down, using his backpack as a pillow beneath the tent’s cover, he suddenly realized—he was on a boat, swaying with the waves.
It had been a while since he last saw this ferryman.
At the edge of the rocking vessel, a purple lamp scattered its glow.
Through the dim violet light, he could make out gray skin and a sharp, slender jawline.

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