Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 478 - Observation, Nature, Jest, Solitude

Chapter 478 - Observation, Nature, Jest, Solitude

Last night, Rem spoke.

He spoke of the way Enkrid had shown him how to live, the path he walked, had illuminated the road he needed to take.

For that, she was grateful.

Though she found it aggravating that he'd decided to follow this man again, gratitude was gratitude.

And so, Ayul wanted to show him what she cherished—what her family, her friends, and the West loved.

"I want to show you something," Ayul said, leading Enkrid.

The two walked, avoiding ants, observing insects, and feeling the wind against them.

They quickly left their temporary shelter, their strides steady and sure.

In the West, magical beasts weren't as common as across the continent, but that didn't mean one could wander around carelessly.

Still, neither Enkrid nor Ayul were the type to be troubled by a few monsters.

They had already cleared out a few packs while their tribe was settling, so the area was largely safe.

Perhaps only the trickster cat-like creatures, Copycats, might appear.

These weren't dangerous so much as they were a nuisance—creatures adept at exploiting human vulnerabilities through sound.

In fact, the term "stray cat" was often used as an insult in the West.

That was when Enkrid finally realized why Jaxen was referred to as a sly stray cat—it was, indeed, an insult.

Though, even before knowing, it had always sounded like one.

The pair's brisk pace took them up a small hill, and Enkrid glanced skyward.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ayul asked.

Enkrid nodded.

The sky looked like it was draped with a white ceiling, with clouds stretched low and wide, covering the heavens.

Yet it wasn't dark—the thin clouds allowed sunlight to filter through, casting a soft glow on the land.

It was a mesmerizing sight.

"Those are sunshade clouds," Ayul explained.

This was a scene unique to the West, and it was breathtaking—the clouds, the sunlight, and even the distant horizon.

It reminded him of a knight named Oara, whose kindness had been akin to sunlight.

This sunlight was like her smile—neither harsh nor scorching but gently enveloping.

It was different from the blinding light of the city Oara, which fought against the darkness of the magical realm, breaking through the mist with force.

The sunlight of the West didn't break anything; it simply wrapped the land in a gentle embrace.

This sunlight, then, resembled the knight Oara—a protector, nurturing and warm.

"Do you think it's worth protecting?"

One day, the ferryman had asked this question out of the blue.

The intent behind it was obvious, even without a direct object.

"Is what you're trying to protect worth it?"

"Is there a reason to endure the pain and press on?"

Enkrid didn't bother answering; he already knew the answer.

Value is determined by oneself.

Just because someone called a sage says something doesn't mean you should follow it.

What others decide cannot define your standards.

This is your life.

Thus, worth is something you complete through your own perspective.

The people of the West understood this.

Ayul began to speak—a story that might seem unremarkable or, depending on one's view, like the inheritance of the Western spirit.

"On days when the sunlight is strong, heat haze rises over there. Strangely, after such blazing sunlight, it always rains a few days later. We call it the Bear's Blessing."

To explain why it was called that would likely require delving into long myths.

"It's not abundant here, but there aren't too many hardships, either."

What is worth protecting?

Ayul expressed that he loved the West—that protecting it was a joy.

"I've never seen snow, but I imagine it's like the white hailstones we get."

By "hailstones," he meant the hard pellets of ice. Comparing those to soft snow might seem far-fetched, but still—

"Snow must be beautiful too," she added.

Loving the West didn't mean looking down on other places.

Of course, if he said snow was beautiful to the army, they'd likely make him run a lap around the training grounds with their weapons drawn.

But no one could deny its beauty.

There had been days when Enkrid gazed at snow-covered mountains, and others when he admired autumn-colored forests.

In his hometown, two large trees guarded the village entrance.

Their trunks were so wide that even with arms outstretched, one couldn't encircle them.

In autumn, the trees bore fiery red leaves; in summer, lush green ones; and in winter, their bare branches were blanketed in snow.

To Enkrid, those trees were beautiful.

The worth of what you protect is something you determine for yourself.

Ayul was the same.

The people of the West were the same.

"We love this land," Ayul declared.

Therefore, they had no need to covet the rest of the continent.

If something was lacking, they would live with that lack.

What had endured for ages became tradition, and the traditions of the West were rooted in their spirit.

That day, Enkrid saw the sunshade clouds and the cloud tower.

From a high ridge, the horizon stretched out, and from beyond it, a white column of clouds descended like a tower.

They returned in the afternoon after observing the horizon, sunlight, wind, and clouds.

By sunset, Ayul had come again.

"Hira, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Though Enkrid had become a sort of talisman or human totem, he didn't have to stay in the tent all day.

The same curse couldn't strike again unless the someone conducted a group ritual.

Hira understood how difficult such collective rituals were—they likely required sacrifices.

It was no simple feat to spread a strange curse like this, and without offerings, it wouldn't even be possible to attempt.

The eldest shaman had countered the curse by offering his consciousness and lifespan as sacrifices.

Such a curse couldn't be executed or blocked without sacrifices.

This was why the eldest shaman hadn't yet awakened—what was sacrificed rarely returned so easily.

Rem sometimes asked if the eldest shaman would awaken, but even Hira couldn't say when.

"If not for him, the entire tribe would have fallen to the curse," she thought.

By reducing its scale and buying time, the eldest shaman had managed a remarkable feat.

It was easy to say but, from a shamanic perspective, he had succeeded in several gambles.

Luck had been on their side—as if someone somewhere had absorbed misfortune for the tribe.

Hira left it at that.

It wasn't her place to analyze everything.

Her task was to work tirelessly to erase the traces of the curse as quickly as possible.

Heating the short needles in her hands over a flame, she nodded. That was her true response to Ayul's earlier question: "Hira, are you okay?"

"Let's go," Ayul said, once again leading Enkrid.

This time, they were headed to a vast lake.

"You haven't ridden one before, have you?" she asked, holding reins. At the other end was a Bellopter, a creature with vertically slit pupils that observed Enkrid curiously.

Beside her were Juol and the man who had stood guard outside the tent.

The man had short hair and a blade-like pattern etched onto his forehead, his expression naturally fierce.

Ayul had brought four Bellopters with her.

"Do you know where Rem is sleeping?"

When she asked why he hadn't been around, the response came quickly.

"He sleeps with me—where else would he sleep?"

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"It's only natural for a married couple to share the same house," Ayul remarked in a matter-of-fact tone.

What charm could have turned Ayul's heart?

Given that Rem's only talent seemed to be chopping wood, he might have won her over by force.

Enkrid resolved to tell him that such behavior toward one's wife was unacceptable.

Juol, standing nearby, simply chuckled.

The man next to him, however, was discreetly radiating hostility toward Enkrid, and the reason for it was becoming clear.

His gaze kept shifting between Enkrid and the woman who had followed him.

"Benefactor."

It was Jiba's mother, who had insisted on following despite Enkrid's reassurances that it wasn't necessary.

Even now, she was urging him to step on her hands so he could mount the bellopter.

"Please, climb up."

"I can manage on my own," Enkrid replied.

He moved to the opposite side, lightly pushed off the ground, and mounted the bellopter with ease. The creature, apparently docile, didn't flinch despite bearing his weight. It briefly bent its knees to adjust but then rose back up. If it were human, one might say it had excellent reflexes—it seemed to understand how to balance the force placed on its back.

Rem had mentioned the creature was smarter and more agile than a horse, though perhaps not as clever as Weird-eyes. Weird-eyes wasn't just intelligent; it had an indomitable spirit. Despite being part beast, Weird-eyes had dared to mate with mares and was even rumored to have spread its seed near Green pearl. That information came from Noir, who had been Krais's lover and once served under Green pearl's commander.

Why such thoughts surfaced now, Enkrid couldn't say—perhaps seeing the mount triggered them. Shaking off the distraction, he grabbed the reins of the bellopter.

He had been told the reins, clamped in its mouth, would guide the creature with a simple tug. Luagarne, meanwhile, stayed behind at the tents for a reason.

"A peculiar smell lingers," Luagarne remarked once preparations to depart were complete.

"I bathed two days ago," Dunbakel chimed in, her legs stiff from sitting too long.

"It's not that kind of smell," Luagarne said softly, scanning the surroundings.

Enkrid didn't pay much attention. Frogs might have dull senses overall, but when it came to their chosen objectives and desires, they often surpassed beastfolk in sensitivity. It seemed something had caught Luagarne's attention.

"Let's move," Ayul commanded, leading the way.

The bellopter started bounding forward, its strides rhythmic against the ground.

Enkrid tightened his legs and used his core strength to stay steady—it wasn't easy to adapt to the ride, as the creature moved quite differently from a horse.

"Having trouble?" Juol asked from beside him, offering guidance.

"Don't tense up. Let your legs hang loose. The bellopter is smart; just let it take the lead. This one's well-trained."

Following Juol's advice, Enkrid loosened his posture. Ayul slowed her pace slightly.

"Kids with a knack for riding take to it immediately. You're a bit slow, though," Ayul teased.

The implication was clear: someone naturally gifted in physical abilities would pick it up quickly. Still, after a while, Enkrid began to adjust. His improved control over his body played a role in helping him adapt more quickly than before.

They arrived at a vast lake, so large its shores stretched beyond view.

"A grand lake," Ayul commented with a smile.

Western regions seldom had mist over their waters, but today was an exception. Beneath the clear sky, the lake reflected the heavens. Fish darted playfully beneath the shimmering waves, and white pebbles along the shore added to the lake's pristine appearance.

While admiring the scenery, the hostile Westerner spoke up.

"What are your intentions toward that woman?"

Blunt and to the point, a typical Westerner.

There was no need to clarify who he meant—Jiba's mother.

"I have no interest and no intentions," Enkrid replied calmly.

"Remember, Jiba is still a child," the man insisted.

Enkrid reassured him with a cool demeanor.

"Do you know how to fight?"

"...I'm a warrior."

"Then let's spar."

Words alone wouldn't suffice. They clashed briefly, exchanging strikes. The man wielded a broad falchion, demonstrating decent skill. With continued training, he could likely surpass most squires—he had potential.

"I'm not interested, so stop worrying. And yes, I'm aware Jiba is young," Enkrid said, tripping the man and striking his solar plexus.

The Westerner gasped, his face pale from the blow, but he managed to cough and respond.

"Hmph... I know. It's just jealousy."

Typical of a Westerner—transparent about his emotions.

Enkrid found the trait refreshing.

"How skilled is Geonnara?"

"You mean the Geonnara of the Narae Tribe? He's the best warrior," the man replied, with Ayul chiming in.

"The best warrior means the strongest in the tribe."

Enkrid had already deduced as much.

Returning to camp, they resumed training and banter with Geonnara.

"I saw a wide river. Beyond it, I glimpsed my deceased father," someone recounted upon waking.

"And?" Geonnara prompted, while Enkrid also listened intently.

"I crossed the river—how could I not, when he was calling me?"

Even Jiba had joined, ears perked to the tale. The storyteller cast his gaze far into the distance, as if recalling a vivid memory.

"The water reached my waist, but the current wasn't strong. With soaked pants clinging to my legs, I trudged on until I stood before my father."

"And then?" Geonnara asked again, curiosity piqued.

"I socked him in the jaw and came back, telling him it wasn't my time yet!"

Despite his frailty, the man slapped his own arm and raised a fist as if reenacting the act. His claim to have struck his father's chin left everyone laughing.

Geonnara guffawed, Jiba giggled, and her mother couldn't hold back her laughter either.

"So, is this the land of the Sky God? Or did the Earth Mother pull me back? Seeing your face, Geonnara, it seems I'm still in our filthy homeland," the man jested.

Even in his weakened state, he managed to crack jokes.

"Stranger, they say when you wake, you should thank your savior. Did you blackmail Hira for help?" he quipped.

"What do you think?"

"Or did you seduce her with that face? I wouldn't have guessed she'd fall for it," he laughed.

Later, when Enkrid was called a "human totem," the man rose with effort to bow his head.

"Thank you. I would've died in regret otherwise. Stranger, I will repay your kindness."

More woke up, and Enkrid observed the Westerners' way of life. After seeing the great lake, the sky's veiled sun, and rolling hills called Miroreum, he continued training within the camp.

Then came a thunderous voice from outside the tent.

"HU-MAN!"

It was like the heavens roared, tearing through his eardrums. Enkrid stepped out and saw the tent flap ajar.

Beyond it loomed a massive head with bulging eyes, shattering any sense of perspective—a giant.

Enkrid had heard of the two giants threatening the tribe, monsters beyond even junior knights. Now, seeing them firsthand, he understood the danger. Rem entered the tent just as Enkrid turned to follow.

"There you are," Rem said, stepping outside.

Enkrid followed him to a feeble wooden fence.

"Bring me five humans. I'm hun-gry!" bellowed the ignorant giant, wielding a grotesque, blood-stained club. Its foul odor reeked of blood and base desires.

"Quite a formidable foe," Luagarne remarked, gauging its strength.

Enkrid agreed. Among giants, this one was exceptional—a true predator.

Two giants now loomed before them, blocking the horizon Aiyul had shown him earlier.

Rem gripped his axe, ready to charge, but Enkrid, who had approached unnoticed, grabbed his wrist.

"You want to do this together?"

"No."

Then what? Rem's questioning gaze asked. Enkrid stepped forward, speaking calmly.

"I'll handle it alone."

Rem hesitated. He, too, recognized the giants as dangerous foes.

Alone?

Enkrid did not repeat himself. He simply advanced.

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