A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 237: What Is a Knight?

“It’s not a sparring match.”

It was an offer—a recruitment.

“This kind of thing seems to happen a lot lately.”

Hadn’t Marcus said the same?

“You should become a battalion commander.”

Enkrid had turned him down.

And now, this time, it was about becoming a knight.

He looked at the man standing before him.

He clearly wasn’t a noble of Naurillia.

But did that even matter?

Not at all. It made no difference.

Even if he had been born in Naurillia, what would the common folk in remote villages care about kings or nobles?

To them, the best ruler was simply someone who kept their bellies full and didn’t cause trouble.

Most villagers never saw the king in their lifetimes. They thought of the local lord who governed their area as their king. That was how Enkrid had grown up—in such a village, far removed from the grandeur of the kingdom.

As such, his loyalty to the nation was far from steadfast.

But his hesitation now had nothing to do with loyalty.

It wasn’t because he was reluctant to accept someone’s help, either.

Enkrid knew he wouldn’t have gotten this far without the advice and assistance of others.

In that regard, he was grateful to Rem, Audin, Ragna, Jaxon, and even Kraiss.

Yet, despite all of this, when he heard the offer, Enkrid felt his enthusiasm deflate.

The pounding excitement in his chest had cooled to a disappointing quiet.

He had come here expecting to see the swordsman’s skills in a proper fight.

That was why he hadn’t minded the pouring rain.

“Should I follow you, even though you haven’t revealed where you’re from?”

“You won’t regret it,” the man replied, his eyes gleaming with conviction—a look that came from truly believing in his own words.

Enkrid knew better than to trust such intentions completely.

Even a stone thrown in goodwill could crush a frog.

Whether the stone was hurled to chase away a snake or intentionally aimed at the frog’s head, the result was the same.

Most importantly:

“Do I even want to join a knightly order?”

Enkrid looked up at the sky, the relentless rain drenching him.

This wasn’t a light autumn drizzle—it was a torrential downpour that wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

His thoughts were brief; this wasn’t a decision that required much deliberation.

Becoming a knight and joining a knightly order were entirely different matters. It had always been that way.

Admiring the crimson cloaks didn’t mean he was willing to give up everything to wear one.

And it was no different now.

“I refuse.”

“Refuse?” The rapier swordsman’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s because I didn’t reveal my affiliation, think again. No one else can offer you a better path than I can. If you want to aim higher, you need to go to a place where those who’ve reached the top gather.”

Do you need to join a knightly order to become a knight?

No.

But it certainly increased the chances.

There were mercenaries and thieves who reached the level of knights, but the majority of knights still came from knightly orders.

For a soldier from a remote, impoverished domain, it was a golden opportunity—a chance that seemed almost too good to be true.

“It’s better than the Crimson Cloak Knights. I guarantee it,” the swordsman insisted.

Even so, Enkrid didn’t nod.

A knightly order, huh?

Sure, it could be an opportunity.

But would joining one truly grant him the skills he sought? Could he reach the heights he wanted?

Enkrid reflected on the path he had walked thus far. Self-reflection was a habit of his.

What had brought him here? What had shaped him into who he was today?

It wasn’t comfort or a perfect environment. He didn’t need either.

Moreover:

“I haven’t even seen the limits of my own men yet.”

He had reached this point thanks to them. Turning his back on them now wasn’t an option.

As he was about to reject the offer outright, a voice cut through the rain.

“Do you know the one thing you should never touch among a fairy’s possessions?”

Where had that voice come from?

Even with his sharpened senses, Enkrid hadn’t noticed the presence until they spoke.

The voice belonged to the Fairy Company Commander. She stood there, her face fresh and radiant as if she had just washed. She wore a light, flowing shirt with long sleeves that fluttered in the breeze.

“An engagement ring,” Jaxon replied.

Enkrid and the rapier swordsman turned to look at him, puzzled.

“That’s right. An engagement ring,” the commander confirmed, smiling slyly. “Do you know what happens if you mess with a fairy’s fiancé?”

“Execution?” Rem chimed in, appearing out of nowhere.

Wasn’t he supposed to stay inside?

“Lord, my master, I beg you. Do not take away our precious commander,” Audin said, stepping forward and dramatically clasping his hands in prayer.

When had they all gathered?

To one side of the sparring ground, a small group had formed.

Audin, praying; Ragna, watching silently with sharp eyes; Rem, smirking and exuding faint killing intent; and Jaxon, standing calmly with Esther at his feet. Even Dunbakel had appeared, her golden beastly eyes glinting.

“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” Dunbakel stated firmly. She always spoke plainly, and her words were never empty. If Enkrid were to leave, she would follow.

The Fairy Company Commander stood a step apart from them, her gaze fixed on Enkrid.

Finally, Finn’s voice could be heard, grumbling as she stepped forward.

“I thought we were just here to watch. So, what’s your decision? Are you going?”

Her last question was directed squarely at Enkrid.

Scratching his head, Enkrid couldn’t help but think about how much these people had done for him, despite him offering so little in return.

“What am I to them?”

What is a knight?

Someone who upholds honor.

What is a knight?

Someone who holds unwavering convictions.

What is a knight?

Someone who fights for justice.

These were the principles Enkrid believed in, the ideals he aspired to embody as a knight.

For him, loyalty to these people was no different from honor, conviction, or justice.

“If you’re not here to fight, then leave. I’m not joining your knightly order.”

Enkrid had already chosen his path to knighthood.

It lay here, in this moment, with these people, as he moved forward to the next step.

“Well, I wasn’t going to stop you anyway,” Rem quipped, his grin widening. Why he was even there was another question entirely.

“I’m better,” Ragna interjected suddenly, his tone flat but full of pride.

“I’m better than any knightly order,” he added, a rare display of his ego. While his words might seem arrogant, Enkrid knew Ragna’s brilliance and found no reason to argue.

Audin simply smiled and said, “It’s your choice, brother.”

Though they had jokingly prayed earlier, Enkrid knew they would have accepted his decision if he had chosen to leave.

These people were strange, but they were his.

And Enkrid?

He was someone who, once he decided, never looked back.

BOOM.

Once more, thunder rolled across the sky, and a blue streak of lightning illuminated the surroundings.

The rapier swordsman, who had been staring intently at Enkrid, nodded slowly.

“It seems you’re not going to change your mind.”

With that, he gave up.

The swordsman, a wanderer traveling across the continent to recruit promising individuals into his domain, was used to such outcomes.

Normally, he would have revealed his affiliation, but...

“I had a feeling he’d refuse.”

So he hadn’t bothered. Even if he had disclosed his allegiance, it likely wouldn’t have changed the outcome.

Still, should he say it now?

No, it was pointless.

Enkrid wasn’t the most talented person the swordsman had encountered—far from it. But from the very beginning, there had been something about his gaze.

It was that gaze that had made the swordsman want to recruit him in the first place.

Even then, it hadn’t been Enkrid’s swordsmanship that had caught his eye.

“Be wary of Swiftblade. He’s not as calm as he looks,” the swordsman warned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Enkrid replied with a nod.

“And don’t overuse Will. A child who tries to run before their legs are strong will ruin their knees and ankles. Strengthen your foundation first, then move forward.”

“I’ll do that.”

It was good advice and worth considering.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. Who knows if we’ll meet again?”

His parting words were unnecessarily earnest.

“Until next time,” Enkrid replied, acknowledging him.

The rapier swordsman turned and walked away. In the end, there was no duel, and that was the only disappointment lingering in the air.

“Are you upset we didn’t get to fight?” Rem asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

Frustrated, Enkrid shot a glare at Rem, his determination reigniting.

“Since I’m already drenched...”

“Fine by me. But I’ll warn you now—I’m not holding back like before,” Rem said, pulling out his axe with a grin.

“I’ve never held back against you,” Enkrid countered.

“Well, obviously. Still, you’ve got quite the tongue on you, don’t you?”

Under the pouring rain, Enkrid raised his sword while Rem hefted his axe. The two ignored the darkness and the deluge, charging at each other without hesitation.

In the end, Enkrid lost again.

“Guess I really can’t go easy on you anymore,” Rem said, standing in the rain, drenched but triumphant.

Fortunately, they had both shown enough restraint to avoid drawing blood.

Rem...

He had the potential to go much further. There was something about him, a self-imposed limitation that Enkrid couldn’t quite place.

But whatever it was, it wasn’t something he felt the need to ask about. That was for Rem to figure out on his own.

For now, Enkrid reaffirmed his own beliefs: loyalty to his comrades was as much a part of his honor, conviction, and justice as anything else.

“What about your axe? It’s broken,” Enkrid pointed out. His sword, sturdy and sharp, had shattered the axe blade during their fight.

Rem shrugged. “You’ll buy me a new one, right?”

“I don’t have any Krona,” Enkrid replied bluntly.

“Neither do I,” Rem admitted.

Both had recently spent their savings—Enkrid on gear for the squad and Rem on who-knew-what.

Their gazes naturally turned toward the barracks.

“Guess we’ll pester old King Eyeballs,” Rem declared, referring to Kraiss.

Enkrid didn’t bother to stop him.

“Will is only just beginning,” Ragna commented, his voice calm but pointed.

For someone who often lazed about, Ragna’s presence in the rain to watch the sparring was unusual.

Nearby, Esther, soaked through, hopped into Enkrid’s arms.

“I know,” he said quietly. He could feel it—understand it.

Debating whether to head back to the bathhouse or just rinse off quickly and sleep, Enkrid’s thoughts were interrupted.

“Commander!”

The shout came from the barracks entrance. It was already well past midnight, and a soldier was calling for him.

Everyone’s attention turned to the noise.

Even Rem, who had been on his way to bother Kraiss, paused and stepped back outside.

“You’re all soaked! At least dry off before coming in,” Kraiss grumbled from inside.

Through his complaints came the soldier’s urgent words:

“There’s trouble!”

The soldier’s voice carried a weight that immediately shifted the atmosphere.

What now? Enkrid thought grimly.

***

As the rapier swordsman left, his companions quickly joined him.

“Well, that was a wasted trip,” one of them sneered.

“It was entertaining enough,” the swordsman replied calmly.

“Are you sure about this? You’re just going to leave that guy behind? He’s up to something shady.”

Each of them had their specialties, but the one speaking now was referring to Swiftblade, the unpredictable lunatic among them.

The swordsman rubbed his chin, a habitual gesture he had retained even after shaving off his beard.

“He’ll handle it himself,” he said nonchalantly.

It wasn’t his concern to begin with. Besides, Enkrid wasn’t someone who could be easily outmaneuvered by the likes of Swiftblade.

“He’s sharp enough to use his head, though,” the swordsman thought to himself.

“But was it real?” another subordinate asked.

The swordsman didn’t hesitate. He nodded.

“A talent I cannot fully see with my own eyes.”

It was high praise.

Of course, Enkrid had only reached this point by dying and coming back countless times, but there was no way they could know that.

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“Wow,” the subordinate murmured, genuinely impressed. Praise from their superior wasn’t given lightly.

“So, where to next?”

“Back to the Empire,” the swordsman said.

His words brought visible relief to his subordinates, who had clearly been waiting for this moment. Finally, they were heading home.