Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 692: Chapter 691 - Something’s off
"It’s a sword."
A simple answer.
"A relic?"
Enkrid asked again.
Just from the name attached to the sword, he could tell it wasn’t an ordinary item.
He had heard that Ragna had come to retrieve it.
He also knew it was in the possession of the family head and that Ragna had asked for it, though he doubted the head would hand it over so easily.
From what he could infer, obtaining this so-called "Sunrise" required proof of something or the fulfillment of certain conditions.
That much was clear just from observing the situation.
’If Krais were here, he’d be making a fuss, demanding to at least get a look at it.’
It was obvious that this wasn’t something a few gold coins could buy a glimpse of.
"It is a family heirloom, passed down for generations."
"...And you plan to take this heirloom and return to Border Guard?"
"Yes."
Ragna didn’t hesitate for a moment.
His tone was no different from when he had first said "sword."
Enkrid was well aware that his personality was a bit unusual.
He was more stubborn and straightforward than most.
To some, that eccentricity might even make him seem like an odd person.
’But not as bad as this guy.’
This was sheer madness.
Who would allow him to take a family heirloom and walk away with it?
Unconsciously, Enkrid’s eyes narrowed.
Ragna, noticing the look, spoke.
"That look is unpleasant. Why are you staring at me like you do at Rem?"
As he spoke, water splashed over Ragna, soaking his hair and shoulders.
He had already removed his clothes, scooping water over himself as they talked.
Enkrid did the same, pouring water over himself.
Dark, murky water flowed down his body.
It had been too long since he last washed properly, and the refreshing sensation was welcome.
"Think about what you just said."
Ragna responded immediately.
"I don’t see any problem with it."
Enkrid started to shake his head but stopped and muttered wryly.
"A madmen’s order, filled with madmen."
The old Ragna might have let such remarks slide out of sheer indifference, but the current Ragna was searching for what he would leave behind.
He couldn’t let mistaken words pass unchallenged.
Even when he didn’t care about anything, there were still things he couldn’t ignore—words that stuck in his mind, gnawed at his thoughts, and refused to be let go.
And what Enkrid had just said was exactly that.
So Ragna did what he had learned to do—he provoked.
"Isn’t that name because our commander goes around breaking women’s hearts?"
Enkrid’s gaze shifted to the weapon propped against the side.
A light warm-up after a bath would be just right.
Ragna leaned against the edge of the large wooden tub, tilting his chin upward in mock arrogance as he continued.
"At least our commander has left behind one legendary tale—shattering the hearts of countless women."
Even though he wasn’t Ragna’s mother, Enkrid found himself somewhat impressed by his growth.
’He’s gotten better at provoking people.’
But that didn’t mean his sword skills had improved.
Would Ragna remain unscathed before waves and flashes of steel?
Was now a good time to test what he had realized on this journey?
Enkrid decided.
There was no particular reason.
He just felt like it.
Objectively, it was madness.
He had told them to wash up before dinner, so he should restrain himself.
But then again, hadn’t he just been reminded of Ragna’s father and mother?
To put it crudely, his blood was boiling.
Splash.
Enkrid lifted his submerged hand from the water.
He made the water his sheath and his hand his blade.
His fingers straightened, tensing, forming the shape of a sword.
Droplets scattered.
Heavy steam pressed down the air.
A cool current slipped through.
Enkrid slashed downward with his hand, carving a line from top to bottom.
"You crazy bastard."
Ragna muttered part of his thoughts aloud as he raised his hands to meet him.
Smack!
Water splashed in all directions from the impact.
Ragna saw Enkrid’s burning blue eyes.
Why attack suddenly?
He neither wanted to ask nor cared to know.
Enkrid had always done things like this.
It was precisely why Ragna liked him.
Nothing had changed now.
Enkrid lived each day as if he might die tomorrow.
That way of looking at life was one of the things Ragna had learned the most from him.
’A day not wasted, no matter the situation.’
That was the kind of life he sought now.
’What do I want?’
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t find the answer.
But should he stop just because he didn’t have an answer?
"If you don’t know, then just keep moving forward. Do what you can do now."
That was what Enkrid always said.
Not with words, but through his actions, his attitude.
Ragna accepted that message and responded.
"Let’s paint this bath crimson."
Enkrid smirked and replied.
"With your blood?"
Ragna, expressionless, denied it.
"No."
A loud and chaotic bath time came to an end.
After washing up, Ragna shook out his dust-covered clothes and set them aside.
An attendant placed clean clothes before them.
"You were told to wash up—what exactly did you two do in there?"
As Grida wrung the water from her damp hair, she made a comment.
From her perspective, it was only natural for such a remark to come up.
Ragna’s forehead hair had been cut as if torn, and Enkrid had taken a bad hit to the cheek, leaving a bluish bruise.
"Conversation."
"Splashing around."
Their answers were different, but there was no need to ask further.
Enkrid gave a vague response while checking the clothes he had on.
He wore gray trousers made with a firm outer fabric and a softer lining, along with a stiff beige shirt.
The rest of his equipment—his gauntlets, gambeson, and a green vest crafted by a Druid artisan of the Fairy race—he had packed separately.
He also carried his sword belt and weapons as usual.
Since he never parted from them, Grida had no reason to comment.
Furthermore, carrying swords in Yohan was commonplace; no one would think twice about it.
Even when cooking, the people here carried twin swords.
Wouldn’t it be only natural for a guest to wear one?
Anne, too, had changed into a loose-fitting dress-like outfit, carrying only a single bag that reached her waist.
Unable to tie up her wet hair, she shook it out and let it fall to her shoulders.
Running her fingers through it a few times, she took a steadying breath.
She had come here with a purpose.
That purpose would be brought up at the dinner table, which made her nervous.
"Let’s go."
Grida once again led the group.
As they headed toward the dining area, the rich and slightly tangy aroma filled their noses.
Having gone without a proper meal for some time, they were looking forward to it.
Upon entering, Enkrid tilted his head.
Among the people seated at the large oval table, one familiar face stood out.
It had been so long that he had forgotten the name, but the face was unmistakable.
Enkrid racked his brain for the name.
"Ray?"
The man also recognized Enkrid.
His eyes widened momentarily before he furrowed his brows and replied.
"...I never told you my name, Border Guard Enkrid."
Though he was initially startled, the absurdity of the statement made him respond instinctively.
Brown eyes, an ordinary appearance—this was the man who had once visited the Border Guard wielding a rapier.
He had even told Enkrid to follow him back then.
The sharp, slanted eyes were memorable.
They gave him a fierce look, yet overall, he had a strangely gentle impression.
As Enkrid recalled his face, he also remembered the man’s long arms and swift swordplay.
"Yo."
Enkrid casually raised his right hand in greeting.
"I don’t recall us being close enough for such a cheerful greeting."
From the man’s perspective, it had been a long time as well, so the fact that Enkrid even remembered him was remarkable.
"Really? My memory’s a bit fuzzy."
Enkrid spoke honestly, causing the man to purse his lips for a moment before responding.
"Well, I suppose one could forget."
The man had already heard news about Enkrid, so he was only surprised to run into him here.
’Why are you here?’
That question crossed his mind, but he already knew about Enkrid’s rise to knighthood and his accomplishments afterward.
’I thought half of it was exaggerated.’
Yet seeing him in person now, he realized otherwise.
That, in itself, was fascinating.
Not that he had anything to say about it.
After all, not everything in life goes as expected.
He prided himself on his ability to predict and deduce outcomes, but he never considered himself a prophet.
’Still, this is unexpected.’
Enkrid wasn’t just any knight—he seemed to be of quite a high level.
Of course, the man lacked the insight to gauge just how skilled he truly was.
That was simply the limit of his perception.
"Now that everyone’s here, let’s eat."
The family head spoke.
’So the son who left long ago has brought guests.’
The eyes of one of rapier wielding man swept over Ragna.
’Was he a child of the Yohan family?’
Well, his talent had been evident even back then.
’He followed the son here, huh.’
Though the reason was unclear, the circumstances made it easy to guess.
Speculation aside, various thoughts flickered through his mind.
Indeed, no one can predict how life will unfold.
The man had once thought that a certain someone—full of dreams and romantic ideals—would soon find those dreams crushed and drown in despair.
Never did he expect to see that person sitting at this table today.
"You know each other?"
Ragna’s mother stood to greet the guests, asking the question.
"He stayed at Border Guard for a while and tried to recruit me back then."
Enkrid replied, summarizing the memory concisely.
"That’s just what he does."
Alexandra remarked nonchalantly and gestured for them to take their seats.
The family head sat first, followed by the sharp-eyed man, Ragna across from the family head, then Anne beside him, with Enkrid next to her.
Grida sat next to Alexandra, while Magrun was nowhere to be seen.
As Enkrid took his seat, he asked,
"When you say ’that’s what he does’...?"
The man had no reason to hide his identity here, nor did he see a point in doing so.
"I’m a recruitment officer for the Empire."
"A recruitment officer?"
"I travel the continent, scouting those with exceptional talent and offering them special opportunities."
Enkrid recalled the moment when this man had once asked him to come along.
Sensing possible misunderstandings, the Imperial recruitment officer spoke first.
"The offer I made to you wasn’t for your combat skills—it was to be my successor. I saw that you had a sharp mind and a talent for handling people."
With a knack for anticipating what others wanted to hear, it was no wonder the Empire had given him the role of a recruitment officer.
He had answered Enkrid’s unspoken question, even revealing his honest thoughts.
By clarifying that he hadn’t made the offer based on Enkrid’s combat potential, he ensured there was no room for misinterpretation.
Enkrid, however, hadn’t expected anything in the first place, so he simply let it slide.
He had known long ago that he was talentless.
The day he first held a sword—another day when a prodigy child had put a hole through his stomach—had already made that clear.
"Interesting connection. Let’s eat."
The head of the house made the suggestion, and no one particularly stood on ceremony.
Enkrid first tore into a well-roasted turkey leg.
Grida, on the other hand, sprinkled powdered seasoning on her portion of the meat before eating.
As he savored the rich juiciness of the turkey, Enkrid observed Grida’s method and mimicked it.
Whether it was a northern custom or something unique to Yohan, he couldn’t tell, but it was a way of eating lamb with a powdered seasoning.
The powder was a blend of various spices, carrying a mix of spiciness, sweetness, and a tangy kick.
Not bad.
The meal, in general, was generous in portion and centered around meat—a logical diet.
The Yohan family was known as a place where people spent their days swinging swords, training relentlessly.
Hadn’t he seen it on the way here?
They lived in stone buildings, each with a personal training ground in front.
Right before the castle, there was even a large open field.
Looks like they all gather there to spar as well.
Some were even lurking around with dull practice swords, showing their interest.
Given this lifestyle, it was natural for them to prefer a meat-heavy diet.
That didn’t mean the meal was unbalanced, though.
There were also dishes like mashed egg salad, greens dressed with olive oil and vinegar, and cheese scattered across the table.
"This isn’t alcohol, but it’ll give you a kick."
Ragna handed him a golden-hued drink.
As Enkrid swallowed the liquid from the copper cup, a sharp tang instantly hit his nose, almost invading his skull.
Then, the bold flavor of wild berries spread throughout his mouth.
"It’s made by diluting and aging vinegar extracted from mountain raspberries. A rare taste to come by."
It was a drink made exclusively from yellow raspberries that grew only on the cliffs of the region.
"I mentioned that I came here with an important proposal, but I see you’ve brought an outsider."
The recruitment officer, who had barely touched his food, spoke up.
"They can hear this as well."
The head of the house responded immediately, casually wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Are you certain?"
"Of course."
The recruitment officer remained silent for a moment before finally speaking.
"What I am about to say is a proposal from His Majesty, the great Emperor of the Empire. Become a Shield Lord, Tempest Yohan."
Enkrid simply listened, not entirely grasping the unfolding situation.
The mention of the Empire’s Emperor did not surprise him.
It was already within his expectations.
Even before this recruitment officer had revealed his position, Enkrid had assumed he hailed either from the great power of the south or the Empire of the north.
If it were neither, it would have been difficult for him to extend such an invitation in the first place.
Most likely, northern and southern recruiters have been scouring the central continent for a long time.
Many talents must have been taken away over the years.
So this wasn’t shocking.
Anyone with a decent grasp of the continent’s affairs could have anticipated it.
The only strange thing was the scent lingering on the man before him—something he hadn’t noticed the last time they met.
Something’s off.
It was the scent of a mage.
It wasn’t an overpowering, sweet fragrance, but still, it was unmistakable.
The attackers they had encountered on their journey here had been mages multiple times.
He hadn’t had a chance to properly bring it up to the head of the house yet, but it was a fact.
And the head of the house responded.
"No."
A firm, unwavering refusal, devoid of emotion to the point of seeming indifferent.

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