Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 504 - Is That It?

Chapter 504 - Is That It?

Ragna arrived, having wandered aimlessly without eating or washing, but Enkrid, despite giving everything he had, couldn't bring him down.

The lazy man's sword, now heavier and swifter than before, moved in arcs too daunting to counter. Watching the massive blade curve as if bending itself, Enkrid couldn't muster the courage to block it directly.

Yet, he managed to defend against Ragna's sword nine times—blocking, parrying, and deflecting it—while slipping in what could be called the knight's strike, a piercing thrust.

Ragna merely twisted his body and evaded it.

From Ragna's seamless movements, Enkrid recalled one of the knightly principles Luagarne had spoken of:

"Time."

Wasn't it said that they exist on different timelines?

In the time it took Enkrid to swing his sword once, Ragna had already twisted his body and extended his blade.

Such movements and timing were only possible because Ragna's reflexes, athletic ability, and strength far surpassed normal limits. Yet, his skills weren't lacking either. Ragna was no mere chimera knight; he was a true knight.

How could a knight cut down a thousand enemies? The answer lay right here.

"If a soldier can thrust a spear once, but a knight can thrust it ten times in the same span, such feats become possible,"

Luagarne had explained, and once again, Enkrid felt the truth of those words.

The fact that Enkrid even recognized this was impressive. It was thanks to his predictive ability, the so-called "eyes that see a step ahead."

Not that he was satisfied with his current level—far from it. A relentless desire and ambition burned within Enkrid's piercing blue eyes, urging him to go further.

Seeing those mad eyes again after so long, Ragna couldn't help but feel entertained, even though he hadn't eaten properly or slept for days.

"That all you've got?"

Thus, Ragna repaid him for earlier, towering over the fallen Enkrid and delivering a single taunt. Enkrid didn't get angry; he simply chuckled.

For some reason, the stronger his subordinates became, the sharper their tongues seemed to grow.

"Cut in line? Obviously, it's my turn first, right? Huh? Huh? Aaagh?"

Rem, furious that Enkrid had faced Ragna first, erupted in anger. When Enkrid, stepping forward, declared it was his right to go first, he nearly hurled his axe at him. But to his credit, he didn't interrupt their duel or attack him from behind. His pride wouldn't allow it.

Ragna, meanwhile, quietly observed the returning commander. From a single duel, he could tell that Enkrid had overcome a wall and reached a certain level.

For Ragna, concepts like junior knights, knights, or squires didn't exist. Why? There was no reason—they simply didn't matter to him.

In truth, his genius prevented him from setting such standards. Setting standards meant creating limitations, and limitations constrained combat.

In battle, anything could happen. A moment of complacency could lead to being killed by the awl in a child's grasp.

Of course, if it were Ragna, even if an assassin disguised as a child thrust an awl at his heart, he'd react the moment it grazed his skin.

Such feats were within the realm of possibility for a knight.

Now, Enkrid seemed capable of something similar—able to dodge attacks, even if it meant letting them graze him. Compared to before, his improvement was staggering.

Even so, some areas still lacked refinement.

Reaction time, decision-making speed, and physical limits—these shortcomings stemmed from his incomplete mastery of Will. Ragna instinctively recognized this.

Yet, he offered no guidance. Words meant to help could instead create constraints and traps. Thus, Ragna simply watched in silence.

Jaxen, observing from the sidelines, was equally astonished. The commanding presence Enkrid displayed while facing Ragna stood out starkly.

"Pressure."

It was the natural aura of intimidation that came from someone at a knight's level. The wandering swordsman overwhelmed the commander with sheer presence, but instead of succumbing, Enkrid responded with his own force, effortlessly repelling it.

Not with the Will of Rejection, but through sheer, natural resolve.

It was a striking realization—Enkrid was no longer the man he once was.

"You bastard!"

Unable to hold back any longer, Rem launched himself at Ragna, who hadn't had proper rest. Their fight was fierce but oddly anticlimactic—a battle of equals running parallel courses.

At some point, Enkrid saw their weapons collide at speeds beyond his perception, sparks flying as the heat from their blows radiated outward. Yet, neither was truly serious.

As raindrops began to fall, the heavens unleashed a sudden downpour.

"I went easy on you, lazy wanderer."

"And I see you've picked up some tricks on how to flail about."

Though they continued to snarl at each other, their weapons lowered. The rain made further fighting pointless.

"Let's wash up," Enkrid suggested.

Before long, even Krais had joined them, and they all found themselves in the bathhouse.

The place hadn't changed much—steam thickened the air, and the exuberance of the middle-aged caretaker remained unmatched.

"Come on in!"

Her greeting was as sharp and refreshing as a knight's strike. With unwavering confidence, she ushered the mud-covered group toward the bath.

"Strip down and get in! Give me something to admire for once!"

Though her words suggested interest, it was clear she cared little for the sight of men's bodies.

Stripping down, Enkrid, Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and Krais entered the bath. Only Luagarne and Theresa opted out.

Though much was the same, the bath had its changes—the most notable being a massive stone tub. A skilled stonemason must have carved and polished the large slab into a communal bath.

"A gift from Lord Graham," Krais explained as they sank into the warm waters, their muscles relaxing.

Bathing was a cultural export from the Empire, now widespread across the continent, including Naurilia. Though absent in the West, Rem found himself quite fond of it—the soothing warmth eased his restless mind.

"I let you off easy, wanderer."

"Say your prayers tonight. You're lucky to still be alive."

"Oh, brothers, let us not quarrel. The gods are always watching."

"Idiots."

As they bantered, the bath seemed to grow hotter, though their words were only half-serious. This was their way of expressing camaraderie.

Compared to their first meeting, when hostility had nearly led to bloodshed, their relationship had improved immensely.

Satisfied, Rem seemed content—not because he had avoided a beating, but perhaps because he liked the bath's temperature.

"Where's the beastkin sister?" Audin asked.

Enkrid glanced at him, thinking the question came surprisingly quickly.

"She's visiting the East."

"I see."

And that was the end of it. Respecting another's decision—a trait they once lacked—had become second nature under Enkrid's leadership.

"I heard you gave gifts to Commander Shinar and Esther. What about us?"

Krais asked, his body submerged up to his chin.

Enkrid had something for them, though it wasn't a gift per se.

"It's in my pack back at camp. I forgot."

Had they been present when he arrived, he would have handed it out naturally, but the group had been scattered.

Without a central figure, they had naturally drifted apart.

Krais alone sensed this shift.

"Still, this is better than the old days, where they fought like madmen," he thought.

Even scattered, the group lingered nearby, held together by an invisible thread of loyalty. It reminded Krais of celestial bodies, something he'd once learned from an astronomer:

The world wasn't centered around this land but revolved around the sun.

***

After getting cooked, Enkrid began rummaging through his backpack, pulling out items one by one.

"Picked this up along the way," he said.

First was the Carmen Collection, a jeweled dagger encased in an ornate scabbard. Whoever the previous owner had been, they certainly had a taste for embellishment. Enkrid tossed it to Jaxen, who caught the handle midair.

Shing!

Jaxen partially unsheathed the blade. Though the sound rang clear, the blade itself was invisible. His eyes, rare to widen, did just that.

"The Carmen Collection?"

He muttered to himself, running his fingertips along the invisible blade. Its presence was unmistakable to the touch—though unseen, its form and sharpness were evident.

"Was the road littered with treasure? How do you come back with something like that?"

Krais blinked his large eyes, posing the question.

"Well, you're not wrong," Luagarne interjected, nodding.

She explained briefly—apparently, a deserter had carried it, and Enkrid had taken it from him.

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"That's a rare weapon, isn't it? Maybe luck was on your side."

Perhaps so, Krais thought, though he didn't get the chance to finish his musings.

"This seems like it's for you," Jaxen said, tossing the jeweled scabbard to Krais.

Catching it, Krais appraised the scabbard quickly.

"Not top-grade, but not bad either," he concluded. While the jewels weren't particularly valuable, the weapon itself was far better than most dungeon relics. Plus, it could fetch a good price if needed. A useful addition to their spoils.

"I'll use it well," Krais said, acknowledging the gift.

Jaxen seemed genuinely pleased, even nodding his thanks to Enkrid. But that wasn't all.

"There have been several assassination attempts," Jaxen said nonchalantly. "On the lord, and a few on Big Eyes too."

Krais blinked in surprise.

"When? I didn't notice anything."

Of course, he wouldn't have. While Enkrid was away, Jaxen had taken charge, punishing disobedience and reshaping the remnants of Geogr's assassins into a force that suited his needs. They weren't perfect, but they'd become capable enough to establish a foothold in the city.

Jaxen's men had set traps across the city, catching skilled assassins as they entered. While a few might slip past their nets, none so far had been noteworthy. Most were low-grade, mercenaries working for mere coins.

Krais blinked a few more times, piecing it together.

Considering himself and Graham, they were prime targets.

And there was no shortage of people who'd want to kill them—jealous rivals, scheming nobles, and even Aspen's agitators hoping for the Border Guard's collapse.

"Ha, that's just too much," Krais grumbled. If someone poisoned their food, they could be taken out in an instant. That's why he always carried a silver needle and used silver utensils—silver being the best material to detect poison.

As for valuable gifts, the Invisible Blade was the highlight so far. Next, Enkrid produced a tainted holy relic. Audin instantly recognized it.

"Sinner, you shall pay for your blasphemy. Father, do not forgive them," Audin declared, stepping forward dramatically.

He reached out his large hand for the relic.

"An item to be handled with the utmost reverence. Hand it over," he demanded.

Well, he seemed capable enough, so Enkrid handed it over without protest. Despite the relic's strange aura, none of those present were tempted by it.

"Gin, isn't it?" Krais remarked.

"Correct, Brother Big Eyes," Audin affirmed, securing the relic in a small pouch at his waist.

The Sacred Church had once stolen holy relics indiscriminately, even sacrificing lives to acquire them. Those stolen relics caused disasters wherever they were taken—such as the endless undead uprising that once required intervention from the Holy Knights.

The relic Audin now carried was one of those infamous items. Purifying it was a mission of great importance to him.

If Jaxen's Invisible Blade was a material gain, Audin felt as though he'd regained something invaluable. As he prayed over the relic, Theresa joined him. Now a devout follower of the God of War, she understood its significance. There was no greater mission than restoring such an object to its rightful state.

As the two immersed themselves in their prayers, a snorting sound came from outside the tent. It was Cross-Eye.

Enkrid casually pulled out the Lucky Fish he'd carried and tossed it through the open door. Cross-Eye extended his head, caught it midair, and began chewing. After a few bites, he looked at Enkrid and gave a nod, apparently satisfied.

With his bag nearly empty, Enkrid dusted off his hands. At that moment, Ragna, who had just finished devouring two sandwiches, spoke up.

"Is that it?"