A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

'The fatigue was too much.'

He had spent two full days exhausting his body and mind in battle. He wasn't in a normal state—nothing like his usual condition.

'If it were under normal circumstances, I could've blocked that easily.'

It wasn't carelessness. Nor was he trying to rationalize anything.

It was a habit—his routine review. What should he do if the same thing happens again? Or how could he prevent such a situation altogether?

The latter line of thought stemmed from the Lua Gharne training style. Not every Frokk trained that way, so it was distinctively Lua Gharne's.

It was a method and combat mindset crafted not by a race, but by an individual.

This time, the core of his thought-splitting technique was enhanced—one of those cores was now filled with Lua Gharne's combat logic.

Enkrid developed the idea further.

'Battle starts with taking position.'

A spot without sunlight. A place free from glare. A position that faces the wind.

Even the slightest advantage mattered.

There wasn't much to think over. The answer came quickly.

If the latter was battle instinct, the former aligned with Enkrid's innate tendency to use reasoning and time as weapons to uncover solutions.

After a short period of reflection, he reached a conclusion of sorts.

'Both body and mind still have room for improvement.'

When Will is fully circulated through the body, the flesh hardens. Naming that process is what became Endure.

'They just named a technique.'

As you move Will and endure shock and pain, the skin begins to resemble that of a giant—an iron hide.

'Will strengthens the body.'

The first person to create Endure or Iron Hide likely aimed to replicate the skin of giants.

After toughening the skin, they probably sought to harden the organs, muscles, and tendons.

Then is Will all that's needed?

No. Before enhancement takes effect, your base must already be solid. You need a sturdy body and mind from the start.

And that, you could build through repeated training.

Even now, Enkrid's level had far surpassed that of a regular knight. But if desire were flame, Enkrid's was fierce enough to incinerate mountains.

So his conclusion was this crude.

'Training.'

Two syllables. That's what remained. More than ever, he wanted to throw himself into training and refinement.

He had just killed a demon—he could've basked in satisfaction. But there wasn't a shred of it.

This was the inner realm, the world of dreams. The Ferryman read Enkrid's heart.

The rippling river lay still. The Ferryman, gazing silently, finally spoke.

"Even in a moment like this, it's training and discipline?"

"...Ah."

Only then did Enkrid raise his head as if just noticing the Ferryman. Not that he made a fuss about it.

"Don't pretend you just noticed me, mortal."

"...Aa."

Enkrid nodded faintly.

"I know full well that you saw me long ago and ignored me while being absorbed in your own thoughts. Do you really think I can't read your intentions in here?"

"Ahh."

Enkrid had no reply, so he responded with a sigh of acknowledgment. It wasn't meant to be sarcastic.

Thankfully, the Ferryman wasn't angry or agitated.

"Yes, you're that kind of fool. I suppose I should give you a proper warning. The blade that struck you carried the will of the demon."

"...I see."

He nodded even though he didn't really understand. Normally, the Ferryman would stop there. No further explanation.

"If you yield to that will... then yes, we shall witness the birth of a new demon."

But somehow the Ferryman was being uncharacteristically thorough, so Enkrid asked,

"Is it... a curse?"

"A curse? You think such a thing could affect you?"

The Ferryman's eyes flared. A flash of violet blazed in his pupils.

"There is no curse in existence that dares presume to influence you."

From the Ferryman's repeated insistence, Enkrid gleaned a few truths.

There had been a real curse in the demon's strike—but the Ferryman had already dealt with it.

"Should I be thanking you for that?"

"No need."

Both of them operated outside normal modes of thought. Their minds reached conclusions through compressed logic, dropping sentences like pebbles into a pond.

Enkrid met the Ferryman's gaze. Despite his rough, gray skin, the Ferryman's sharp eyes and high-bridged nose stood out.

He looked oddly like that shield-bearing warrior Enkrid had seen in a dream.

If he had blond hair and blue eyes... yes, the resemblance was uncanny. Like twins, even.

"Did you always look like this?"

"Now you finally see my face?"

"It's visible, that's all."

Did it mean Enkrid was now closer to the Ferryman's presence? Or was this the Ferryman's intent?

Enkrid couldn't tell. It just felt like coincidence. Or perhaps the Ferryman had let his guard down for a moment.

Not that asking would yield an answer.

"...Why did you help me?"

He asked, because everything pointed to this being the same entity—the one who spoke of walking opposite the fire.

"If you were trapped in such a 'today,' watching you wouldn't be any fun."

The Ferryman responded. A faint smirk twisted his lips. It resembled a smile, though it made his face look grotesque.

After that twisted smile, the Ferryman continued.

"If you don't want to die, then flail around all you like. You don't want to keep repeating this kind of today, do you? I didn't bother sealing it. Left it open on purpose. Thought it might be entertaining."

Behind the Ferryman's back, something crept closer like smoke.

His words had thorns. Malice, too, was plainly present.

While Enkrid silently watched, the Ferryman finished.

"If it swallows you even once, it's over."

Enkrid couldn't understand what he meant. It was like being told the conclusion of something he hadn't experienced yet.

He blinked.

And the river, the Ferryman, and the lantern were gone.

In their place stood the demon.

No, not yet a demon.

He saw the creature before it was called such.

No one had told him, but he could tell—this was him.

The being that had devoured the flesh and blood of fairies.

He had originally been a fairy. One who wanted to climb higher—not just absorb life essence, but transcend entirely.

A fairy drunk on desire, willing to become a demon if that was what it took.

Emotion twisted into blades and stabbed relentlessly. Who could understand that searing hunger and ambition if not Enkrid?

"Look at me!"

The memory invaded him. The fairy's will crept in like mist and seeped into him.

"Look at my life!"

The reason this fairy became a demon—what lay beneath it?

The will was contaminating him. Changing color, blurring.

This was what the demon wanted.

But Enkrid skimmed through what it tried to show him. It wasn't difficult.

Tuning out the Ferryman, focusing on training, ignoring whatever life story a demon or fairy wanted to show—it was all the same.

The demon lashed out. He had to tempt the target.

"No! Accept my will! I will grant you power beyond imagining. I will help you grow your Will!"

Enkrid had never once felt that his Will was lacking.

"I will harden your body! Let you surpass the limits of human flesh!"

Audin had said: everything other than eating, drinking, and training was a false method.

You could grow your body with drugs, but it would deflate once the drugs wore off. Empty muscle.

When it came to muscles and conditioning, Audin had no compromises. Even the Mad Platoon respected that.

Even Rem, in matters of Enkrid's physical training, had entrusted everything to Audin.

"You build today upon today. That's what training is."

That was Audin's belief.

And Enkrid had accepted it. That's why he carried boulders, took punches, and trained Endure until his body was ironclad.

So the demon's words held no weight.

Its tone shifted.

There was a silhouette of black soot, cold sweat running down its form, hastily speaking within his mental world.

"I'll grant you a charm that could seduce anyone, no matter their reason."

Now that he really didn't need.

"...Goddamn."

The demon spoke its own name countless times, but Enkrid let it in one ear and out the other.

To truly listen, one must know how to truly ignore.

Calmly and flatly, Enkrid erased the existence of the fairy-turned-demon.

The fairy race had a tradition of not naming demons, so as not to give them strength.

Their attitude toward demons was rooted in that.

But Enkrid went a step further.

Complete and utter disregard.

The demon tried to scream its existence into permanence—but Enkrid wasn't the kind of human that would work on.

"You mad human..."

That was its final cry.

But even that, Enkrid barely registered. He felt light—opposite of darkness—creep in and opened his eyes.

"Well rested."

He awoke from the dream. His muscles still ached, not as if he'd wandered the desert, but his throat was slightly dry.

He sat up and spoke.

And a voice replied.

"What do you mean 'well rested'?"

It was Lua Gharne. His vision was still blurry. He blinked a few times until his sight returned.

"I had a dream. Can't remember it."

If the dead demon happened to overhear this, it'd probably curse out Enkrid's entire bloodline.

"Talking about dreams now of all times?"

This time it was Pell.

Enkrid looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. It seemed like a room in the fairy dwellings. The air smelled of grass. The ceiling was woven from tree roots.

A sharp scent stung his nose.

"The hero has awakened."

It was Bran.

Finally, he took in his surroundings. Dozens of calm, quiet eyes stared at him. The room felt smaller with them crowding it.

Fairies. The room was packed wall to wall with fairies—standing.

"What... are you all doing?"

Enkrid asked, a little startled. It looked like something out of a nightmare.

"In case something happened, we gathered only the fairies who would be willing to merge their essence to save you. Might be a bit much, huh?"

The answer came from Shinar. She sat in a chair by the head of the bed, her green eyes cool as ever. Her tone restrained but faintly kind.

Enkrid was used to that.

"You slept for ten days," Pell added.

"...No wonder I feel light."

"You know you nearly died, right?"

"No."

Enkrid had forgotten the demon's final moments—not just in words, but truly erased from memory.

Then he heard what had happened to him.

His eyes had turned red, blood tears streaming. His nose bled. Veins across his body ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don't copy, read here) swelled and throbbed.

He'd burned with fever until his lips cracked.

He felt the scabs on his lips even now.

But for all that, he didn't feel terribly dehydrated.

"Shinar didn't leave your side for days, feeding you water," Bran said.

Shinar, right beside him, gently poured water from a wooden flask into her mouth, then leaned forward and showed a subtle smile.

That smile said how she'd given him water.

She drank it down.

It had actually been through a leaf-pipe designed for this, but Enkrid couldn't have known.

Dozens of fairies were present.

He even spotted the one who'd guided him earlier—name forgotten.

Too much had happened that day. Killing the demon had drained everything from him. No room left for remembering names.

Even the maze path was starting to fade.

"Hmm... are you Jorman?"

Enkrid called to a fairy he assumed led the council.

"Who's that? I'm Ermen."

To a fairy, forgetting a name after a few days might be an insult, but he didn't show a hint of offense. Just corrected him with warm generosity.

The atmosphere alone made it clear.

Roughly grasping the situation, Enkrid realized his condition wasn't so bad.

Shinar stood up.

As she did, the surrounding fairies parted in perfect order.

Shinar Kirheis. The Golden Witch in the Border Guard, but here, a fairy akin to a queen.

She moved back a few steps to adjust to Enkrid's line of sight, then knelt down and lowered her head.

Then she spoke.

"On behalf of all fairies, I speak. To you, Enkrid of the Border Guard, I offer our thanks. And before all the fairy clan heads present, your Frokk and seed alike, I say this..."

"Who are you calling a seed?"

Pell muttered, but no one else made a sound.

Maybe they had known what she would say. Or perhaps they'd expected it.

All fell silent.

Enkrid, unsure what was happening, closed his mouth under the solemn mood.

Shinar smiled.

Not a witch now—but a golden angel. Her smile was radiant.

Eyes perfectly symmetrical. Straight nose. Pink lips opening.

"Until the day of your eternal rest... I shall spar with you, whenever you wish."

Enkrid noticed that she had oddly cut herself off mid-sentence—but let it pass.

What she had just said was a phrase from the fairy wedding vow.

Originally:

"Until eternal rest, I shall remain by your side."

She had modified it.