A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 800
They performed a preservative treatment with salt and the juice of a special blue fruit that grew only in this region, after which they soaked the hide in a black water made from a mixture of several medicinal and poisonous herbs.
It was a softening process.
Then, onto the softened hide, they applied a special oil used only by the residents of the Demon Realm.
"We mix the fat and brains of beasts, and to mask the smell, we add fruit peels and Bija tree nuts."
Naturally, the brains and fat of monsters and beasts were also used.
The kind from a large boar-like beast called a Giant Boar was said to be excellent, right?
However, such high-quality fat was hard to come by, and it was said that it had to be aged for at least ten years to refine it into a usable state.
Everyone, led by the village chief, had essentially rolled up their sleeves and thrown themselves into the work.
They used every last precious medicinal ingredient and material the village had.
But they didn't just throw things in haphazardly.
They handled each step delicately, observing the hide's reaction one by one.
The craftsmanship itself was, for a moment, reminiscent of Aetri's hammering.
They tended to the hide for a fortnight straight, and then the four women with the best handiwork in the village attached themselves to it and began to sew.
Weaving, stitching, shaping.
Among them, a woman with a keen eye often came to see Enkrid.
Her demeanor was always cautious, but when she was feeling Enkrid's body and taking his measurements, there was no hesitation.
'Will.'
He was constantly reminded of Aetri.
He was a master craftsman dedicated to his art.
This woman, too, was similar.
In reality, nine out of ten residents of the Demon Realm had decent dexterity, but she seemed to be exceptional even among them.
Her blue-stained fingertips, cautious yet bold, checked the measurements, gauging the degree of muscle expansion.
When even a first-rate warrior, let alone a knight, fought, their muscles would swell.
She acted as if she knew this.
"You have good skill."
"You praise me too much."
She spoke, but her eyes and hands did not stop.
She was a woman of extraordinary skill.
Would such a skill come from nowhere?
Of course not.
When you observe for a fortnight, you're bound to see things even if you're not trying to.
To survive, these people had to hunt, tan hides and work leather, and also farm.
'Among those, the leather would have been more special.'
To be precise, he surmised that only their tanning and leatherworking had commercial value.
That was likely the reason for the improved quality of the clothes they wore.
'To be used for bartering, the quality and condition would have had to be good.'
The only items they could trade with the merchants who came here, even if it was a one-time thing, were the leather goods. It was obvious that the goods those sporadically visiting merchants had were also important to them.
No matter how self-sufficient they were, it was unlikely they lacked for nothing.
Thus, even in a society where self-sufficiency was primary, some would have dedicated themselves to leatherworking.
And among them, some would have become masters of the craft.
Was it because of what they had just been through?
Or was it that his experiences up to now were simply showing him the way?
There were always things to be gained when a fight was over.
The reward of experience, engraved into the body through review and training.
Here, Enkrid's thoughts broadened a little more.
The concept expanded.
Perhaps it was because he had broken the mold of having to fight alone.
In truth, he didn't care about the reason.
He just let his thoughts flow as they would.
'If one looks at the word "fight" in a slightly broader category, it doesn't necessarily include only the clashing of swords.'
The residents of the Demon Realm fought to survive.
They fought against irrational violence, the extortion of the Demon Realm, and the threat of monsters.
In the face of all those threats, they kept their heads down, found what they could do, and struggled.
'Something that could only be obtained because they survived in this land, risking their lives.'
That was the art of leatherworking.
And that was the reason a faint Will could be glimpsed even from the artisans.
Enkrid saw a past version of himself in their appearance. Of course, not everything was the same.
It just reminded him of those days when he had struggled.
Because of that time, there is a now.
Because of the past, there is a today.
And you must have today to head toward tomorrow. It was a simple logic, but he found himself reflecting on it anew.
In any case, they had personally tanned and crafted the Beelrog hide Enkrid had brought, creating a thin leather armor that clung to the body.
Its color was jet black, and when it caught the light, a sleek gloss showed the uniqueness of the material.
That was the item Zhoraslav had brought, tightly wrapped in cloth.
Swish.
The cloth fell away, revealing the armor.
"How ominous."
As soon as she saw the armor, Shinar said it, slightly shaking her head.
She had said she was still unable to run, only walk.
Next to her, Rem, who had been getting a nosebleed once every two days, also frowned.
"Is that thing okay?"
At those words, Jaxen stepped forward.
When it came to handling artifacts or spell objects, Jaxen could be said to be more skilled than anyone.
"It's not good."
Jaxen said after touching and pressing the leather with the tip of his broken finger—twisted while dodging Beelrog's wing.
"Lord."
Audin, too, reflexively generated holy power.
A small mass of light gently swirled around his entire body like a firefly.
It seemed this was the best he could do for now, as it was still too much for him to draw out his holy power at full strength.
Especially since he was performing holy power treatments on Enkrid's arms and the others every day.
Ragna just stared blankly.
What's that?
That was the look in his eyes.
It was a question of whether he really needed to get involved in something that had nothing to do with him.
It was also because his interest was more focused on other things.
All the residents of the Demon Realm simply bowed their heads.
They had seen dozens of people stay up all night for a fortnight, engrossed in making this.
And yet the gift they brought was overflowing with ominousness.
It was something even the creators hadn't expected.
After Jaxen, Rem placed a hand on the leather.
His body was a mess, so his senses were a bit dulled, but it wouldn't be difficult to quietly analyze the item.
It was just a matter of briefly scanning its aura based on his shamanism.
Nevertheless, his nose started bleeding again.
Drip.
Wiping the nosebleed with his sleeve, Rem spoke.
"It's full of lingering thoughts."
Jaxen also examined the armor carefully once more.
This was the conclusion he reached.
"The demon of strife, that is to say, the lingering thoughts left in the hide will cause a change of heart in the person who wears it. Their desire for strife will boil up to an uncontrollable degree."
"Let me purify it."
Audin stepped forward at those words, but Jaxen shook his head.
"The lingering thoughts themselves give this leather armor its special quality."
Saying so, he drew his dagger and made a light slash.
With a fluid motion and a hand movement so fast one couldn't even see him draw the blade, a mark was left where the dagger had pressed on the armor.
It was hard to believe it was done by someone with a broken finger.
"It will do more than just block simple metal; the impact won't even be transmitted inside."
He said it while placing his left palm inside the armor and slashing above it with the dagger.
"Again."
And then Jaxen infused his will into the blade. Will, the formless power, was manifested on the dagger. It was unknown whether he could always do it or if he had reached this level at some point, but he too materialized his Will without difficulty.
It was a matter of course.
If he couldn't do that, he wouldn't have been able to break Beelrog's crystals.
Beelrog had fought with its crystals layered in Will-forged ironclad armor.
It had probably even achieved
Indules
Just as one can know the process by seeing the result, he knew by seeing what Jaxen had done.
In any case, that leather armor was based on Beelrog's special traits.
So to say it was sturdy was an understatement; it was incredibly tough.
But that didn't mean it wasn't soft.
To the touch, it was pliable and had elasticity.
Jaxen, though feeling dizzy from overexerting his Will, slashed the armor with his Will-infused blade.
Scrrrape.
"It means it can't be cut by any ordinary slash."
He said, holding out the armor.
Even when he used his Will-blade, instead of being cut, it was only left with a deeper mark than before.
"Hey, Lost One, try cutting it."
He said, tossing the armor into the air.
His body hadn't perfectly recovered, but Ragna should have been able to manage a single slash.
Thump.
But the armor fell limply to the floor.
"Giving me orders?"
Ragna asked back in a nonchalant voice.
It was a question of whether he had to do what Jaxen told him to.
He hadn't so much as lifted a finger from his seated position.
Ah, right. 
He's not the type to listen just because you tell him to.
Jaxen, unfazed, picked up the armor, dusted it off, and said.
"Even if it's cut, it will regenerate. As artifacts of this type tend to do."
Enkrid's voice turned to Ragna.
"Yes."
Ragna replied and stood up.
Jaxen tossed the armor once more, and Sunrise was drawn.
Ting.
The sword born in the east that dominates half the world and devours the darkness.
The blade of shimmering heat came out, slashed the armor, and went back in.
An amazing display of drawing and sheathing the sword.
Enough to make even a knight nod in approval.
It seemed like a response to the skill Jaxen had shown with his dagger earlier.
Well, not that anyone actually nodded their head in admiration.
"You're too serious, you bastard."
Only Rem grumbled.
A red, heated line appeared in the middle of the armor.
The armor had indeed been cut.
But just as Jaxen had said, the leather writhed as if alive, tangling together and restoring itself.
The process was clearly visible to the eye.
Of course, Ragna wasn't an idiot either, so he had only cut the outer surface of the armor.
To add one more thing to that.
"If I had done it properly, I would have cut it through."
He even said this.
It was a reply to Rem's words.
In truth, he had gained much from the end of the fight with Beelrog.
So much so that he wanted to swing his sword and train right at this moment.
He was only holding back because it was obvious that overexerting himself now would delay his recovery.
Moreover, even their captain, Enkrid, was currently crouched down and enduring.
Watching him made restraining this level of desire seem like nothing.
'Even the Captain is enduring.'
That training-crazed man wasn't even doing his morning warm-ups.
A model to be emulated.
Didn't it seem like he was preaching the importance of recovery and rest?
Seeing him rest was a hundred times more helpful than a hundred words.
Of course, Enkrid was simply surprised that Ragna was showing a desire to train.
He wondered if Ragna was mistaken about having some deadly disease again, but the lover of that lazy, directionally-challenged man was the best healer within the Border Guard, if not the entire continent.
So it was unlikely he would repeat such a mistake.
"To what extent it will affect the wearer, that is the problem."
Shinar concluded.
They didn't need any more proof that it was a remarkable item, but it was a cursed item.
That was certain.
The term 'Demon Armor' seemed fitting.
"It seems we have done something unnecessary."
Zhoraslav said, cautiously watching their reactions.
He couldn't understand half of what they were doing, but from the way things were going, it seemed like the right thing to say.
It was an item they had made using their full skill, but it had become a demon armor, no different from a demon sword.
One that affects the wearer's spirit and devastates it.
In reality, it was not Zhoraslav's or their fault.
They had simply displayed their skills to the fullest.
"But I'm grateful."
That's why Enkrid said it.
And he meant it sincerely.
One look was enough to tell it was no ordinary item.
It was imbued with the experience and lives of those who had lived as residents of the Demon Realm, on top of the special material that was Beelrog's hide.
Thanks to that, a very special item had been created.
"I will try it on."
Roman, with a newfound resolve, readily stepped forward.
Before anyone could stop him, he picked up the armor and put it on.
In reality, no one stopped him.
Even if he went half-mad wearing it, they could just subdue him, and even if not, there were many ways to handle it.
The armor was a material that stretched well and was soft to the touch, so it was easy to put on and take off.
It was a type worn as a single piece without any buttons, so Roman just popped his head through.
"Hm. This feels fine?"
As he said that, Roman's hand naturally went to the grip of his greatsword.
Contrary to his casual and calm tone, the sinews in his forearm bulged.
Just before the sword could be drawn, Enkrid placed his foot on top of its head and pressed down on the greatsword's pommel with the sole of his foot.
"Ugh."
Roman strained, but it was no use.
At that, Roman immediately struck Enkrid's calf with his other fist.
Thwack!
The sound was loud, but the foot resting on the sword pommel did not waver in the slightest.
His arms were being treated daily by Audin and Theresa with holy power, but they were not yet in perfect condition.
That was why he used his feet.
Extinguishing Embers.
He demonstrated the basics of the technique he learned while fighting Beelrog.
He had perceived the change in Roman's aura, despite his words that he was fine, and had cut off the start of his attack.
"Oh."
Rem admired.
Ragna's eyes widened slightly.
Jaxen also fidgeted with his fingers, looking interested.
"So that's it."
Among them, the one who was most impressed was, of course, Luagarne.
Not all her limbs had recovered yet, but thanks to eating all sorts of bugs here, both her legs had regenerated enough for her to walk.
Her muscles hadn't fully returned, so she wasn't at a level where she could fight, but she could still walk for a short while.
Her tongue had never been cut off, so she could still speak just fine.
She had recognized the subtlety of the movement Enkrid had just shown.
She too had gained much from the previous battle, and she recognized it thanks to her frog-like insight.
"Uwoooargh!"
Afterward, Roman drooled and charged, and Ropord, Fel, and Theresa subdued him and took off the armor.
"Huu, hu, why did I..."
Control over emotions.
Someone at the level of a knight could resist to some extent, but it would be difficult to put on and take off easily.
"Control of desire is essential. The more a person desires, the more difficult it will be."
Jaxen said.
Zhoraslav, seeing Roman's rampage, bowed his head even lower.
He probably hadn't expected this.
So it couldn't be said to be his fault.
Enkrid thought for a moment, then picked up the armor and put it on.
"If you can't control it, you must take it off."
Jaxen added, as Enkrid donned the armor.
It slipped onto his body and clung to him.
It was armor that had been tailored to Enkrid's physique in the first place.
Though it had elasticity, when Roman wore it, it had looked like he was forcing himself into a child's clothes, but that wasn't the case here.
The armor, clinging to him over a thin undergarment, suited him perfectly.
It wouldn't have sounded too awkward to call it a tuxedo of the battlefield.
Since Enkrid was wearing it, it matched the color and texture of his hair quite well.
A faint luster, like velvet, shed its commonness and revealed its extraordinariness.
"Hm."
Enkrid stood blankly, wearing the armor.
Everyone else had their hands subtly resting on their weapons.
If this were back in their troublemaker squad days, someone would have just stepped up and beaten him down, but the situation was different now, wasn't it?
Unless they planned on cutting off a limb, they would all have to jump him to subdue him.
In the midst of this subtle, rising tension, Enkrid himself couldn't feel the armor's lingering thoughts at all.
'Why?'
A question arose, but no one knew the answer.
"Well, it fits perfectly."
With Rem's words, the situation was concluded.

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