A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The people of the continent often say this about the Easterners:

“They are tough, stubborn, and incredibly persistent.”

Hans was one such Easterner.

And among these Easterners, those who remained in Martai essentially had the mindset of:

‘Let’s see how well you do.’

They held a grudge against the current Lord.

Hans was one of them.

“Stop the colony? Damn, isn’t this all rigged?”

Hans, who was deeply versed in dice games, thought to himself.

If dice games are manipulated, huh? It’s always the same people winning the game.

Originally, whenever a threat appeared in Martai, they would often request support from the Eastern Mercenary King.

However, after losing a battle, the Lord died. The Commander changed, and since then, the territory became subordinate to the Border Guard.

Then suddenly, a big crisis struck the territory, but a few soldiers from the Border Guard came and dealt with it.

‘Damn, I don’t like any of this.’

To Hans, the entire situation was like a dog’s penis.

If the monsters were weak enough to be chased away by a few of them, wasn’t it not dangerous in the first place?

Unlike the soldiers who stood on the battlefield, Hans had become a local thug in the territory and had not seen Encrid’s battle.

During that time, he was drinking and sleeping, considering the territory’s danger separate from his own safety.

There were two subtly divided factions.

The alliance between the Easterners and the Continentals also played a part in the poor flow of information.

Still, those who needed to know, knew everything, but Hans only heard what he wanted to hear.

He was a typical fool.

Hans’ job was to lend his fists here and there to earn some silver coins.

‘If I go out and fight.’

Couldn’t he handle a few ghouls?

A human-faced dog? It’s just a dog with a human head, right?

A single spear thrust would end it, wouldn’t it?

How could an Easterner be defeated by such a wild dog?

As an Easterner, isn’t it a virtue to be brave enough to kill a lion with just a sword?

The Mercenary King was like that.

At the age of eighteen, he killed a lion with just a sword.

It was a beast that had tasted human flesh, having killed dozens of people.

This was the first story of how the Mercenary King proved himself on the Eastern plains.

“They must have had some relic or pulled a trick.”

One of his companions said, poking Hans in the ribs, encouraging him. He handed Hans a glass of wine, which Hans took a sip of.

It was sweet, almost as if honey had been mixed in.

It wasn’t strong, but because he drank it while excited, he felt dizzy for a moment before it quickly passed.

Hans tightened his anus to appear sober and said,

“Tasteless, but it’s good.”

“This is newly imported, isn’t it nice?”

His companion didn’t seem to notice Hans was swaying from the alcohol. He just smiled. Hans nodded vigorously. His movements became exaggerated. He didn’t notice his own changing actions.

After the insignificant conversation, his companion kept talking.

“He looks like an idiot in person, only having a handsome face.”

In the meantime, women would swoon just by looking at his face.

They called him the Squad Leader of Enchantment?

What kind of bullshit is this?

“You know Lenny, right? She seems to have fallen for that enchanted idiot too.”

Lenny, the daughter of the tavern owner, was the woman Hans had feelings for.

His insides were boiling, but everyone around him was cheering as if a hero had returned.

It wasn’t a situation where he could easily express his dissatisfaction, so he held it in.

After the atmosphere cooled down,

Hans heard that the enchanted idiot and his companions were at Lenny’s tavern.

“If you actually face him, he’s nothing special. Hans, maybe you could.”

His companion handed him the wine. As he gulped it down, he began to feel a newfound confidence.

As the sweet, fiery liquid went down his throat and filled his stomach, something hot rose from his lower belly.

“I’m going to beat that bastard up.”

If not now, when will he show the bravery of an Easterner?

Hans entered the tavern with this determination and glared at the man.

Seeing him in person, he really did look like an idiot.

He seemed more suited to being a noblewoman’s bed attendant rather than a war hero.

Hans also noticed Lenny. Her eyes never left the red-haired man with half-closed eyes and tightly shut lips.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Damn it.

Am I supposed to just tolerate this?

Hans was known as a local thug. He rarely lost a fight.

Hans stood up.

Thud, bang!

Standing up forcefully, his chair was pushed back and toppled over.

In the tavern were the enchanted idiot and his companions, Lenny, and a few other villagers.

Some of them frowned.

What is that thug up to now?

---

Encrid found it amusing.

‘Is this trouble?’

He asked with his eyes.

Rem blinked in response. He felt awkward as well.

Rem’s eyes scanned their companions.

Audin, Dunbachel, Teresa.

Even just these three were not ones to be trifled with.

And then there was himself.

It’s not something to boast about, but in the territory, it was rare to encounter someone who would easily pick a fight with him.

Encrid did have a handsome face.

That could make him seem less threatening.

But there had been a battle before.

If anyone knew about that, if anyone had seen it, especially if stories had spread within the territory…

‘And yet, he picks a fight?’

What is this? Who is this idiot?

Encrid glanced at Rem and then sized up his opponent.

His perceptive skills assessed his opponent within the realm of his senses.

The signs of how he used his body, the development of his muscles, the position of his hands, his habit when stepping, even the continuity of his movements when he stood up and pushed the chair.

After observing everything, Encrid subtly extended his left hand forward and slid his right foot back.

Anyone with eyes would understand what Encrid’s movements meant.

But his opponent showed no sign of recognizing it.

Really, not at all.

“Hey, aren’t you being too arrogant in someone else’s territory?”

Hans said.

“Should I kill him?”

Dunbachel asked. Encrid then remembered what the Lord had said.

Hadn’t he told him to take it easy?

“I will.”

Encrid spoke as he stood up. No one seemed interested. Hans’s eyes turned even redder. Or rather, his eyes were severely bloodshot now.

Not that it mattered.

“You bastard!”

The excited man charged at him. Encrid sidestepped, dodging the swinging fist, and pushed against the man’s forearm while lightly kicking his thigh.

All the movements happened at once.

They were natural and smooth.

Seeing this, Rem and the others’ eyes sparkled.

It was an application of the Fluid Sword Technique.

He was performing it with his body, a technique he had recently become engrossed in.

As Encrid pushed him away, the man looked like he was going to smash his head into the tavern table.

But Encrid didn’t let that happen. He grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pulled him upright.

The man had swung his fist once and now couldn’t understand what was happening.

Encrid pushed him away. Hans staggered, trying to stand.

Damn, what is this?

Hans became even more furious.

Unable to control himself, Hans reached for the knife at his waist.

“If you draw that, you’re dead. There’s no turning back from that point.”

Rem said, chewing on a rusk, with his mouth covered in sugar, making him look surprisingly convincing.

Hans didn’t hear him. He couldn’t live without stabbing the man in the belly in front of him.

Normally, he would have come to his senses by now, either dropping to his knees or running away, but he didn’t think of that at all.

He had to kill them all. He couldn’t live under the same sky as this bastard.

His excitement went too far, and his brain stopped thinking.

It wasn’t natural.

Encrid sensed that something was wrong with the man’s demeanor.

As he considered breaking a bone, it happened.

Smack!

With a crisp sound, the man fell forward, his hand still on the knife, eyes rolling back.

Jaxon, standing behind him, laid him down and opened his eyes wide, sniffing his mouth.

“…What are you doing? Do you have a hobby of sniffing people?”

Rem asked.

Jaxon ignored the comment and spoke to Encrid.

“Someone used drugs.”

Drugs?

He explained that it was the kind that could leave someone a lifelong cripple if misused.

“He was made less discerning and hypnotized.”

His tone suggested he was an expert in the field.

And it was an accurate diagnosis.

Clap, clap, clap.

Someone clapped.

“Impressive, you figured it out.”

A man with a leather canteen at his waist, two knives on his right hip, and a shortsword on the left sword belt approached.

With every step, the shortsword in its scabbard swung on his thigh.

Just by his gait, it was clear he was quite skilled.

Far more than the guy who had just charged.

Encrid stared at him without responding. What’s this now?

Despite no one reacting, the man continued to smile as he approached.

He looked like a rat.

“Greetings.”

He said.

No one responded. Even Rem, who didn’t enjoy silence, just crossed his arms and watched. His mouth still covered in sugar, he seemed ready to swing a misbalanced fire axe or the barbed spear once used by a centaur leader.

Encrid’s senses told him Rem was ready.

If left alone, he’d just die.

“Who?”

Jaxon asked.

“Oh, how should I introduce myself?”

The man pretended to ponder, clasping his hands before his chest and then letting them drop theatrically.

Should we just kill him?

Rem’s hesitation was palpable.

“Wait.”

Encrid said. The only one who didn’t understand was the man.

He nonchalantly continued, “I’m from the Black Blade Bandits.”

The Black Blade Bandits were a group of thieves.

Encrid let his arms hang loose. He’d never had a pleasant conversation with them.

The man waved his hands.

“I didn’t come to fight. I just came to convey a few words.”

The tavern workers and a few customers were there.

The man spoke without regard for them.

“Do you have any thoughts of converting?”

The man asked with a smile, and Encrid pondered the question before replying.

“Do you want to die?”

“I really came here with good intentions. You know, the Black Blade Bandits don’t know the meaning of surrender. What you’ve seen so far was just a taste.”

He was saying that the idiot sent under the influence of drugs and hypnosis was just a preview.

“It’s truly a good proposal, an opportunity. Please reconsider.”

The man was serious, and so was Encrid.

“So, you want to die?”

“Pfft.”

Rem, who was listening from behind, burst out laughing.

He could roughly predict what Encrid would keep saying, knowing his mannerisms and his way with words.

“The Black Blade Bandits won’t give up. I’m just a messenger. And Dunbachel, don’t you have a debt? Do you think you can ignore it and walk away?”

The Black Blade Bandit messenger said this, sticking his neck out to look at Dunbachel.

Dunbachel had exercised force as a mercenary for the Black Blade Bandits. She had taken on assignments and contracts and received payment in return.

But that no longer meant anything.

She had been wandering, seeking death since then.

But could that be called a debt?

“Yes.”

Dunbachel nodded.

For the first time, the Black Blade messenger flinched.

‘This crazy woman has gotten even crazier.’

He thought to himself.

“Huh, this is really troublesome. Let me reiterate. This is a truly, truly good offer. We can overlook Dunbachel’s issue and give you anything you want. For instance, if you want to become a Knight, you can join the Knighthood.”

The messenger spoke, and Encrid maintained a blank expression.

A Knighthood—so they knew his goal.

He had talked about it here and there.

This was proof that they had done their homework.

‘What about it, will you refuse this offer too?’

The man asked with his eyes.

Encrid, with a cautious attitude, opened his mouth.

“So, do you want to die or not? Why aren’t you answering the question?”

Pfft.

As Rem laughed for the second time, the messenger’s expression changed.

‘These bastards, should I really show them a lesson?’

He subtly moved his fingers, unnoticed by his opponents.

It was time for a few assassins to drop from the roof.

It was silent.

Huh? The man moved his fingers again, unnoticed by his opponents. Then something fell from the roof with a swoosh.

“Eek!”

A scream erupted from one of the tavern workers who saw it.

Thud! Thud!

Two bodies.

Their necks were pierced. The red-haired man standing next to them spoke up.

“It seems that’s all the tricks they had.”

Damn it, what’s this now?

Everyone knew they had a hand in this, but how did they spot elite assassins so easily?

The messenger’s expression soured further.

“If you kill me, the Black Blade Bandits will…”

Whoosh, thud! Wham, splat! Thud!

“Ahhhhh!”

The messenger reached for a smoke bomb at his waist as he spoke.

And Rem, without missing a beat, threw his axe.

His right hand moved so fast it was a blur. Encrid’s heightened senses caught every detail.

The misbalanced fire axe, instead of bursting into flames, gleamed as it flew, embedding itself in the messenger’s head. The force sent the Black Blade Bandit’s legs flying, his body crashing into the tavern wall before collapsing to the floor.

That was all.

The Black Blade Bandit’s messenger was now a corpse.

The tavern maid screamed once more at the sight, and Jaxon, with practiced hands, searched the body.

He found several neatly folded papers, a leather pouch, a smoke bomb, poison, and a knife.

Inside the neatly folded paper was a strange powder.

It seemed to be a drug used for hypnotizing people.

“Don’t worry too much. If you contact the barracks, they’ll come and clean this up.”

Encrid said while standing. It was just a minor disturbance, like a fly interrupting a meal.

Although there had been a commotion, he didn’t think it was a big deal.

He was just impressed by Rem’s axe-throwing skills and Jaxon’s quick movements.

“Well, it seems the Black Blade Bandits are making moves, brother.”

Audin made a nonchalant comment, and the group started to leave.

Regardless of the Black Blade Bandits’ tricks, they were on their way to see the dwarf.

That was their original purpose anyway.

The dwarf was in one corner of the forge, eating wine, cheese, and bread.

Bang! Bang!

The clanging of metal and the heat didn’t seem to bother him as he dipped his finger in the melted cheese and licked it.

News traveled fast within the territory, and it seemed that while they were at the market, word of what Encrid had done had already spread.

The dwarf looked around at everyone and spoke.

“You seem to be good at fighting.”

His tone was bold. Encrid looked at the dwarf.

How old is this one?

Different races often had ages that didn’t match their appearance, he could be older than Encrid, but he looked like a short girl of about fifteen.

Of course, she wasn’t just any girl. She was a muscular young girl, with a neck that seemed thicker than his.

Her face, however, was quite pretty with delicate features.

Krais’s comment about her being pretty wasn’t unfounded.

But by general standards, she wasn’t exactly a conventional beauty.

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

Rem teased, to which the dwarf replied while chewing,

“I can hear you, gray head.”

She had a fiery way of speaking.

And Rem was just being Rem.

The barbarian smiled softly and asked Encrid,

“Are you interested in a dwarf trophy? Because I think I just found a freshly dead one.”

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