A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 803
"Roman, fight endlessly. Learn from the fight."
Enkrid taught Roman right up until the moment they left, and Roman, though not gloomy, asked with a serious attitude.
"Is my mental strength on the weaker side?"
He had been beaten by the Parasitic Beast and also consumed by the armor made from Beelrog's hide.
Separate from his lofty resolve, knowing his own condition in detail was also helpful for training.
Weak points could be strengthened through training.
"Keep thinking, and if you still see what you lack, contemplate how to fill that gap."
Create a specialty, and then advance circularly like drawing a circle again.
It was a repetition of that.
Furthermore, while he could speak in broad strokes, the intimate details were something one had to contemplate and advance on their own.
He could show the way toward becoming a knight and help establish training and practice methods, but he couldn't do more than that.
Enkrid had realized this principle long ago.
So, as he explained kindly, those beside him also offered their heartfelt advice.
"So you thought you were strong?"
Rem said from the side.
"One must realize their present self to have a next step, frail brother."
Audin chimed in.
"If you're weak, you'll die."
Jaxen pointed out the cold reality.
While Ragna glanced over and turned his head away, Fel suggested a training method of tapping one's head with a hammer, to which Ropord advised that it would only make his head worse and that resolve alone doesn't solve everything, so he should always think two or three times.
"There are flowers that never get to bloom."
Listening to Shinar's remark on top of all that, a dry laugh escaped Roman.
As they say, no matter what you draw, the picture is only complete when you draw in the eyes at the end.
"Did you believe you could win?"
Finally, listening to Theresa's solemn question, Roman was reminded of their names anew.
'A bunch of passionately insane bastards.'
So, was he angry?
Not really.
He had watched their battles from the side until now.
That was why, though he couldn't respect their personalities, he could respect their skill and ideals.
Roman brushed off the teasing and offered the same farewell he had given back in the city of Oara.
He slammed his sword into the ground with a thump and spoke.
"My promise is still valid."
"Right. I haven't forgotten."
Enkrid replied stoically and turned away, at which point the Grand Master of the Order of Cultists Annihilation approached.
"Thanks to you, I have found an interesting trace."
The reason his eyes were shining so brightly was likely because he had found a trace of the heretics.
These were people who would turn into beasts that had starved for three days at the sight of heretics, rushing in and fighting without regard for their own lives.
It was said that one could be on bad terms with the Pope of the Legion, but one must not become a target for extermination by the Order of Cultists Annihilation.
Though he showed such a good-natured smile, his true nature was that of a madman who would not hesitate to commit mass murder to take the heads of heretics.
'Still, he won't fight without thinking.'
If he had, he would not have survived until now.
"This place has traces of the Red Foot cultists, so we have more than enough reason to stay. It is all the Lord's will."
The Grand Master expressed his joy, and Enkrid nodded. Whatever they did, these were people who would take care of their own business.
Next, Andrew approached and summarized what he had said several times over the past fortnight.
"I can't say the atmosphere in the capital is bad, but there's a strange undercurrent, shall I say. In any case, please be careful. There's a saying that what kills a knight isn't the battlefield, but a knife in the back, or a lover's pillow."
Shinar and Jaxen responded to that remark.
"The lover's place is already decided."
"Not a chance."
Rem, seemingly quite disappointed that he couldn't help with Andrew's training because of his condition, said that they must meet again.
"No. That's really not necessary."
Andrew shook his head every time at those words.
And all the residents of the Demon Realm, including Zhoraslav, came out to see them off.
Enkrid shouldered a light backpack and looked back.
It was a bag that was cinched with a string at the top, also a gift from them.
They had all decided not to ride horses.
He could have borrowed mounts from Andrew's side, but they decided that walking would be more helpful for their recovery.
"If you're grateful, it would be good to say thank you."
Roman, who was next to him, said to Zhoraslav.
But the words that actually came out of Zhoraslav's mouth were not words of thanks. He asked a question.
"With bodies like these, are people like us allowed to live on? Are we allowed to enjoy more?"
The leader of the Order of Cultists Annihilation considers many things so that none of his brethren die in vain.
Those who lead a group should rightly do so.
Then what did the leader of these people, who were busy just trying to survive by offering sacrifices to some Red Foot or Blue Foot apostle, consider as he lived?
Was it enough to simply survive?
Or should he have strived for a better life?
Enkrid had seen the efforts these villagers made to not die in vain.
He had seen them live by handling leather, medicinal herbs, and poisonous plants in order to improve their lives, even if just a little.
He had also heard the song of hope they sang.
Was there anyone among them who struggled because they wanted to die?
Were there any among them who did not want to live?
"If you have decided to live."
Then you may.
If you have decided not to sing of surrender, frustration, and despair, but of hope, dreams, and tomorrow.
Then you should be allowed to live.
There was no standard here for who to save and who not to.
He just did as his heart told him.
That was why Enkrid knew he was not king material.
Standards, rules, laws—those are established by a king.
A leader governs all people with them.
He was a swordsman.
A mercenary.
A warrior.
A knight.
Therefore, this was all he had to say.
"I swear on my dawn, I will protect you."
At Enkrid's words, spoken as he gripped his sword, Zhoraslav bowed his head.
With his head bowed, his legs seemed to give out as he fell to his knees.
He wept just like that.
All the residents followed him and knelt.
The old, the men, the women, the children—all of them looked at Enkrid.
Even the children who knew nothing were swept up in the atmosphere.
The majority of the residents knew.
That they had struggled to live, having been cast out from the category of human.
That because of this, there was nothing they could do even if those people came at them with blades, saying they would punish them. There was someone who had fought purely for them.
There was someone who said he would protect them.
There was someone extending a hand to them, who were on a precarious line.
What would you call such a person who saved them without asking for anything in return?
"O, Hero of the War's End who saved us."
Instead of the slogan 'Demonic One' that Luagarne had repeatedly engraved into their minds, they called Enkrid the Hero of the War's End.
"O, Hero of the War's End."
The majority of the residents called him that in unison.
Zhoraslav engraved the name and face of his hero onto his soul.
Until the moment he died, if he ever had a chance to repay him, he would not spare his own life.
This was not just Zhoraslav's thought.
There was a reason they had worked on Beelrog's hide with all their might.
Well then.
It was a moderately cloudy but blue sky. Though they hadn't driven out the entire Demon Realm, perhaps due to Beelrog's death, the color of the sky was clear.
It might have been the sky's way of saying that this place, at the border of the Demon Realm, had now become the land of humans.
The sunlight that revealed itself between the clouds shone down on the residents of the Demon Realm.
No, now it simply shone down on the people of the Naurellian borderlands.
They might be discriminated against for their purple skin, but at least for now, they would live a better life than before. Enkrid thought of the moments he had given up because he couldn't protect them, then simply remained faithful to the sense of comfort he felt now.
"You look to be in a good mood."
Shinar said.
"Nothing to be upset about, I suppose."
Jaxen also said, and Ropord and Fel scratched their heads for no reason.
The residents hadn't only expressed their thanks to Enkrid.
They had spoken their gratitude for everyone.
In the midst of it, a competition had broken out between Rem and Ragna.
"I suffered a little more."
"No, this one got lost inside the Demon Realm and only showed up at the end."
Rem's eyebrow twitched at Ragna's words.
"If my body were fine, you'd be dead. I'm letting you off."
Ragna looked around at the residents stoically and replied.
"The likes of you?"
"Hah, fine. Let's go right now. It won't take long to kill you before we leave."
"If you're so grateful, dig a hole here in my place and bury this guy."
They didn't actually fight.
Enkrid had stopped them at an appropriate moment.
"Enough."
They had not hesitated in their steps when they arrived, and it was the same as they left.
The party departed with the sun at their backs, and for a while after, a song mixing the end of an era and the end of war rang out behind them.
Andrew knew that they had slaughtered monsters, but he didn't know that they had killed Beelrog.
No, for a fortnight, everyone had been focused on rest and recovery, so no one had properly explained it.
Luagarne had given him a few words, but that frog, too, hadn't left Enkrid's side.
So they didn't know.
The Order of Cultists Annihilation, too, only learned a part of what the band of mad knights had done after discovering that the infamous Thornbriar Fortress within the Demon Realm had collapsed.
The residents of the Demon Realm had only spoken of what they knew.
That is to say, monsters had swarmed them and all died, and after that, some kind of cave had appeared, and a fight had occurred.
Andrew and the Grand Master knew that something bizarre had happened here, but they didn't know the full situation.
As soon as they left the village, Ragna tried to take the lead, but he was caught by both arms by Ropord and Fel.
"Not that way, sir."
"That's not the way, where are you going?"
Luagarne stuck close to Enkrid's side and told him to try putting what he had realized into words.
Enkrid, thinking that it was about time to start training again, spoke.
"We're stopping by the capital."
He stated their destination in a simple voice. Everyone nodded. Stopping by on the way would be no trouble. It was a summons from Krang, and it was on their route.
So there would be no problem.
As they were saying so.
Cough, carry me.
Shinar requested, forcing out a cough from beside him.
Anyone could tell it was a fake cough.
Cough, coough, khelek, klock.
Moreover, the sounds of her coughs weren't even consistent.
Was this what they called acting?
Looking at this, one wondered if the concept of theater shouldn't be introduced to elven culture.
Of course, that wouldn't happen.
For the elves who do not speak lies, theater would be like torture.
"No sparring?"
Enkrid ignored the coughing and asked, showing interest in the martial arts she had displayed.
Ars Pugnae, she had called it.
Elven martial arts.
He could forget other things, but there was no way he would forget something that had squarely piqued his interest.
At Enkrid's question, Shinar raised both eyebrows and narrowed her eyes, showing her displeasure.
"This is a time when even carrying me isn't enough, and you ask for sparring?"
After that, Shinar continued to pester him.
"Carry me."
It was something a four-year-old would do, not a four-hundred-year-old.
You don't grant a request just because it's persistent.
This was excessive.
"Hey, would it be okay if I carried you instead?"
Rem, unable to watch any longer, cut in.
"I don't want that."
The elf who knew no lies shook her head firmly.
"You think I asked because I wanted to?"
Rem got irritated for no reason.
It seemed his nerves had frayed as his body's recovery was slow.
"Hoho, then shall this one do it?"
"No."
Audin stepped up, but it was the same result.
Shinar, whose eyes met Theresa's, shook her head gracefully.
In the meantime, the wind blew, scattering her blond hair, and the sight made her look like a sage full of wisdom.
Like a nod saying 'that is not it' to those who ask about the principles of the world.
Of course, the content of it was just her expressing her will not to be carried by anyone other than Enkrid.
"It's not like your back will wear out, so why not just carry her."
Ropord said.
He always found the fastest way.
So he had stated the most efficient solution.
Enkrid's arms weren't fine, but his legs were.
He had proven as much when he subdued Roman.
He had no choice but to carry her on his back and walk.
He was still wearing the armor even then.
The armor still had no effect on him.
Carried on his back, Shinar gave off the scent of grass and spoke.
"This time, I was the first to be carried."
First?
Without needing to think for long, his intuition gave him the answer.
There was no need for it, but his thoughts automatically accelerated and produced the answer.
He had held Esther first before.
He remembered that time, and Shinar had been mindful of it.
Therefore, being carried first meant she was happy.
Enkrid didn't bother to dwell on the meaning of Shinar's words.
His mind was once again engrossed in swordsmanship.
He had started training in his head while walking without a single word.
Those who noticed just figured he was at it again.
It was also a time for the others to reflect on what they had learned and mastered this time around.
"This is nice."
Only Shinar would occasionally say such things.
And so they headed for the capital, and the groups of monsters or beasts that appeared were mainly dealt with by Ropord, Fel, and Theresa.
Shinar was sometimes carried and sometimes walked on her own two feet.
By the time they arrived in Naurillia, although no one knew they had killed Beelrog, word that they had lured monsters from the Demon Realm and killed them had already spread through the grapevine.
The rumor had spread as Andrew and the Grand Master had sent people here and there to request supplies and other things.
Words always travel faster than feet.
"The Monster Slaughterer."
A soldier guarding the castle gate spoke the substance of the rumor.
It was Enkrid's new nickname.

Comments

Loading...