A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

For those who wielded magic, the sense of foreboding was not just a simple three-syllable word.

It was a feeling, a prediction that came from their senses.

Esther felt that something was happening on this land.

Something that was tied to the world of magic.

She had a gut feeling that this would affect her too, and knowing that, she decided she couldn’t simply ignore it without checking.

In other words, immediate confirmation was necessary. For this reason, Esther spoke.

"Protect me."

At her words, Andrew, who had just been about to rush into battle, turned his head.

"Did you say that to me?"

"Should I call Enkrid up front instead?"

With a kind, long-winded explanation, Esther conveyed the urgency to Andrew before closing her eyes.

Her mind was racing.

Andrew paused, hesitating.

Where exactly was he now?

Since he was with Enkrid, he had been accepted as part of their unit.

As a member of Baron Gardner’s forces, it felt awkward to °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° lead troops.

Even if he counted his own soldiers, there were only five.

Andrew observed the battlefield.

Although not overwhelming, things seemed to be going according to his army’s strategy.

Andrew stopped in his tracks. It felt right to listen to the mage Esther's request now.

"Form up."

Thus, Esther, Andrew, and five other trainees formed a circle around her.

Esther sat at the center, ignoring the dirt floor. This was not the time to care about such things.

Her robe touched the ground, spreading out around her.

Then, Esther entered the magical realm and began searching for the work prepared by the opposing mage.

No, there was no need to search.

The mage had not hidden it, instead, he revealed it openly, exposing his power.

This grand display became pressure that weighed down on Esther’s shoulders.

However, she was no ordinary mage.

A witch who wielded the flames of the black world.

A witch who fought and carved out worlds through struggle.

A seeker, burning the truth in flames, learning from it.

She spoke the words of a spell, raising her head.

Esther observed what the mage—Count Molsen—had prepared and unraveled it.

Not all mages were mad, but there was a saying that the greatest mages inevitably nurtured madness.

Esther agreed with that saying.

The mage she faced now proved that very point.

‘He mixed curses with spells.’

Between the flow of mana, the essence of spirits could also be felt. A force was sweeping the area, displaying the mage’s will.

It was darkness.