A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 301: He Had Not Been Wrong

"WAAAAAAH!"

The moment they entered Border Guard, the cheers struck like a hammer.

The air itself shuddered with the force of it.

Every single person—men, women, soldiers, civilians—poured into the streets, roaring at the top of their lungs.

"Goddamn, my ears."

Amidst the exhausted soldiers and the falling snow, the people screamed their victory.

The Black Blade had threatened them. The Cult had marched on them.

Officially, it had been Viscount Tarnin’s army—

But that was like dressing up a ghoul in human clothes.

A sham.

Everyone had known. Even the damn innkeeper had known.

Azpen was still out there—

But there were moments that could not be passed over.

When was life most valuable?

When you had survived.

When you had overcome.

When you felt, down to your bones, that you were still alive.

And that’s what the Border Guard people felt now.

They had survived.

They had endured.

Some had fled in the night.

Some had abandoned their homes.

But those who had stayed—

They screamed with all the air in their lungs.

"YOU! You can have what I’ve kept safe for twenty years!"

The innkeeper, Vanessa, hollered.

She had lost her first husband at twenty-five and had never remarried, treating herself with care.

Anyone who tried anything funny got a cast-iron pot to the skull.

"WHO THE HELL WANTS THAT?!"

A towering mercenary shouted back.

Half his face was wrapped in bloodstained bandages, covering his left eye down to his jaw.

He had clearly been wounded in battle, but that didn’t stop him from howling with laughter.

His wound would split open again, but he didn’t seem to care.

"I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU!"

"SNAP OUT OF IT, INNKEEPER!"

Everyone laughed.

The mercenary bellowed, voice booming over the crowd.

"DAMN, YOU GUYS FIGHT LIKE MONSTERS!"

"FUCKING DEMONS ON THE FIELD!"

His cry was met with a chorus of roaring men.

And between them, women shrieked in something close to hysteria.

Everyone was drunk on victory.

"Hey, have you all forgotten Azpen is still out there?! Is this really the time?!"

Kraiss grumbled.

Rem, watching, smacked the back of his head.

Smack!

Perhaps he had been too eager—the hit landed faster than intended.

Kraiss rubbed the back of his head, turning crookedly to glare—

Only for Rem to cackle.

"You gotta enjoy yourself when you can, kid."

"Even before death?"

"Look at you— you’re already enjoying this. And I’m about to split your skull into six pieces."

"Enough."

Enkrid stepped in.

Left alone, Kraiss would’ve gotten smacked at least a few more times.

"You’re strong enough. You don’t need to bully the weak."

Ragna observed, blunt as ever.

Somehow, they had split into two groups.

On the left— the injured: Rem, Audin, Teresa.

On the right— the mostly untouched: Ragna, Jaxon, Dunbakel.

"Huh? What was that? I can’t hear useless bastards who get lost all the damn time."

Rem cupped his hand behind his ear.

Jaxon, always the shit-stirrer, joined in.

"No bullying the weak."

He even gestured as if teaching an animal.

As if speaking to a dog.

Even as the entire city cheered, even as they chanted "Immortal Rem!",

Rem pulled out his axe.

"Wanna say that again, up close?"

"Nope. Nope. Bad idea."

Jaxon crossed his arms in an X.

"This is about to explode."

Ragna helped—

By dumping a barrel of oil into an open fire.

"A guy who broke his arm fighting a dog, and another who barely survived..."

He didn’t sound like he was provoking them.

Which was the problem.

Ragna had a habit of saying exactly what he thought.

That was both his greatest strength—and his worst flaw.

Right now, it was definitely a flaw.

"Brother, are you seeking eternal rest?"

Audin didn't snap.

He simply moved.

Ragna truly believed they were weak.

Enkrid could hear everything.

If he left them alone, they would walk into the city covered in blood.

They were all subtly raising their fighting spirit.

It had been a while.

They had all been getting along too well.

In a way, it was progress.

At least they weren’t splitting into full-on factions anymore.

...Though it was still a mess.

"Aren’t you going to stop this?"

Even Kraiss was nudging Enkrid now.

Enkrid was an expert at stopping them by now.

All it took was one sentence.

"I think I’m faster than you now, Rem."

The tension popped like a bubble.

"...What did you just say?"

Rem narrowed his eyes.

"See for yourself later."

The dangerous atmosphere disappeared.

Enkrid’s gaze shifted forward.

The leopard had gone ahead into the city.

She wasn’t injured, but she looked exhausted.

The one-eyed wild horse walked without needing a rein, scanning its surroundings.

Horses were usually skittish, especially in crowds—

But this one had been bathed in monster blood and survived.

It knew its own strength.

It walked with confidence.

It had galloped through battlefields, kicked down foes, and come out unscathed.

‘This guy counts as part of the unit now.’

Enkrid acknowledged.

As the cheers rang behind them, they entered the city.

Rem blocked Enkrid’s path.

"Dun-dun-dun! Time to check! What’s faster, huh?"

"Are you even in good enough shape?"

Enkrid asked, genuinely concerned.

Not as a taunt.

"Fuuuuuuck you."

Rem grinned.

His face stretched wide—

A grotesque expression.

An exquisite showcase of pure annoyance.

It was honestly impressive.

The atmosphere was oddly peaceful.

"Fine, fine. If you’re slower than me, this won’t even be fun."

Ah, this bastard.

Enkrid settled into his stance.

Before the entire camp, he repeated the process he had realized.

It wasn’t perfect.

He still couldn’t activate it instantly.

But—

When it did activate, he was faster than Lykanos.

Something like the Will of Rejection.

Imperfect.

Unrefined.

But overwhelming when it worked.

Relax. Contract. Explode.

Just as before, he thrust forward.

The blade collapsed the space in front of it—

And split the air itself.

Clang!

Rem tried to parry with his axe—

And failed.

He had to block it with the flat of the blade instead.

The sound of steel rang out.

"You blocked that well."

Enkrid admitted.

He hadn’t aimed to kill—

But it hadn’t been an easy strike to block.

"...What the hell did you do while I was gone?"

Rem didn’t even try to hide his shock.

And he wasn’t the only one.

"Hmm."

Ragna cleared his throat.

Jaxon’s half-closed eyes snapped open.

Audin, mid-smile, froze solid.

A well-carved statue.

Even Ragna, who had seen it before, wasn’t used to it.

If anything—

It proved that killing Lykanos hadn’t been a fluke.

Ragna’s mind registered two words.

‘He’s fast.’

Even now—he was fast.

And if it was this fast...

Who else could stop it?

...Not many.

"Put that to real use. Again?"

Rem grinned.

And Enkrid?

"Sure."

He was calm.

Snow poured down in thick, heavy sheets.

Each person drifted into their own thoughts, their own world.

But there was one undeniable truth—

Watching Enkrid fight had shaken them all.

"Father, guide us."

Audin murmured his prayer.

Dunbakel’s eyes burned.

Teresa, forgetting her wounds, ached for battle.

And Kraiss—who had watched it all unfold—

"Are you serious? You’re sparring at a time like this?"

"What, should we shovel snow instead?"

Rem shot back.

Kraiss sighed, taking a steady breath before turning to Enkrid.

"Captain, one last question."

"Ask."

"Bite his damn head ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) off."

Dunbakel muttered something nonsensical—

And Rem kicked her in the ass.

"You didn’t get beaten enough yet?"

"Why am I always the one getting hit?!"

"Gee, I wonder why."

Ignoring the two bickering behind him, Kraiss pressed on.

"We’re fighting, aren’t we?"

That question held many things.

They could still run.

Abandon Green Pearl, and defending Border Guard would be simple.

They had already overcome one major crisis—

And now, Martai’s army could finally mobilize.

The Cult’s interference had delayed them, but they would likely arrive tomorrow.

So why fight?

Why not wait?

"And if we don’t?"

Enkrid asked.

Kraiss exhaled sharply.

"Captain, I know you already understand, but if we leave them be, holding this city won’t be easy."

That was his conclusion.

Something was wrong in Naurillia.

If things were fine, the reinforcements should have already arrived.

At the very least, Count Molsen couldn’t ignore this.

"The central powers can’t reach this far."

And Marcus’s battalion had been plucked away at the last second.

Nothing about this was a good sign.

The conclusion was the same.

If they wanted to survive and protect this land—

They had to strike first.

While they still had the terrain and timing in their favor.

"What do you think Azpen’s doing right now?"

Enkrid asked, sheathing his sword.

Snow continued to pour from above.

Soon, the world would be nothing but white.

For the soldiers, it was a nightmare.

They were already exhausted, and now they’d have to shovel snow instead of resting.

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If they left it alone, the drains would freeze, roofs would collapse, and fences would snap under the weight.

Fixing it later would be twice the work.

Better to clear it now.

Kraiss thought through the logistics—

And, at the same time, why Azpen was waiting.

What did they want?

His conclusions were unsatisfying.

"I don’t know. If they wanted Green Pearl, they should have already attacked. We need to watch them more."

There were a few bad scenarios he could imagine—

But they weren’t likely enough to be worth considering.

"When the snow stops, we move."

Kraiss finished.

Enkrid nodded.

There was nothing more to discuss.

For now, they rested.

They ate. They slept.

But as the snow kept falling into the evening, the soldiers started grumbling.

"Damn it! Let us drink and celebrate already, you cursed snow!"

Kraiss dismissed it as spoiled whining.

They only had this break because of the snow.

Not that it stopped some of them from drinking anyway.

Enkrid, instead of drinking, reflected.

He replayed his fights, reviewed every step.

Had he missed anything?

Was there anything to learn?

When you re-examined things, there was always something to take away.

He spent a day thinking like that.

By the next, as he stretched his body—

"Here. Use this."

Shinar tossed him a jar of ointment.

A fairy-made healing balm.

He had no idea what ingredients it contained—

But it was good medicine.

It quickly closed his minor wounds, especially the burns on his back.

"I’ll do it."

The Company Captain personally rubbed the balm onto his back.

A sharp sting—

Followed by cool relief.

It worked even better because of his isolation technique, which had enhanced his body’s natural healing.

His body was slowly adapting to recover faster.

"Give me more. There are a lot of injured."

Enkrid asked.

Shinar looked around and snorted.

"They’ll be fine if they spit on it."

With that, she left.

Honestly, Rem seemed worse off than he was.

"This is favoritism. Why does the Captain get special treatment?"

"Do you really not know?"

Dunbakel said, deadly serious.

"Nope. Not a clue. Since I don’t know, let’s train. Hey, Beast, let’s play."

Rem growled—

And Dunbakel bolted outside.

She kicked off the ground, her white silhouette blurring as she vanished.

She had improved.

It was obvious.

Outside, through the swirling snow, she flicked her tongue out at him.

"Coward!"

Her voice reached Rem—

But he didn’t chase.

His coat was ruined—he had patched it into a vest.

Snow still fell.

And it was cold.

Should he go out there and rip out her throat?

It wouldn’t take much.

Even injured, he could catch her.

And his wounds? He could just let them worsen.

"Restrain yourself, Brother."

Audin’s calm words stopped him.

She would come back eventually.

And when she did—

Then he’d beat the hell out of her.

She still had that bad habit of dodging instead of taking proper fights.

She still needed to learn.

And that was the duty of a proper trainer.

Rem swore to himself.

He would teach her.

With his fists.

Nearby, Audin examined Enkrid’s shin wound.

"It’ll heal quickly."

Which was ironic—

Considering Audin’s arm looked far from healing.

Even now, he didn’t use his divine power on himself.

There was probably a reason, but Enkrid didn’t ask.

Instead, he gave a small nod and headed outside.

He needed to warm up.

And there were a few mercenaries who had supposedly fought for the city.

Might as well meet them.

The snowfall had weakened slightly.

A few soldiers spotted him—

And immediately snapped to attention, saluting stiffly.

Considering what he had done on the battlefield, their reaction was understandable.

He had been impossible to miss.

As he walked, his gaze drifted to the barracks entrance.

A woman stood there, red-nosed from the cold.

The moment he stepped out, she lifted her head.

"Ah."

She recognized him.

She approached, dropped to her knees, and bowed her head.

"No matter how lowly I may be, I was taught never to forget kindness."

She spoke.

She looked past forty.

"Thank you for saving my son."

She wept as she bowed.

Everyone had told her to give up.

But he had saved her child.

To her, he was a god.

A savior.

A blessing.

He was everything.

Her son’s life meant more to her than her own.

Enkrid felt something stir.

His heart shook.

It was as if someone whispered in his ear—

"You weren’t wrong."

The voices of Geor and Pete, the ones who had died.

The voice of that child, who had said—

"I support your dream, mister."

He wanted to end the wars on this continent.

He wanted to become a knight and end it with his own hands.

So that no more mothers would lose their children to war.

He lifted the mother to her feet and sent her home.

His fight—

His dream—

Had only just begun.