A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid lifted his head toward the falling rain.

The raindrops, thup-thup, washed the blood from his body. It felt as if the rain was embracing his exhausted form.

It was a sensation he sometimes experienced when sleeping with Esther curled up against him—this felt similar.

Did Esther do something?

It seemed likely. The count’s reaction, the demon’s words—both hinted at it.

The rain thickened, but it did not stop.

It pooled on the ground, washing away the blood and forming thin streams of water.

He had carved his way through ten thousand wraiths and cut down the count.

It sounded simple in words, but it was not something that could be dismissed as simple.

It was an accomplishment. A feat worthy of recognition.

Enkrid stood under the rain, steadying his breath before retrieving the broken half of Silver.

His body groaned in protest as he moved toward the count’s lifeless corpse.

Audin, too, was finally regaining movement now that the paralysis from the Holy Restriction was lifting.

“You’ve done well, brother.”

“So have you.”

Their exchange was brief and unembellished.

Audin walked forward, his boots sinking slightly into the wet earth, and knelt beside the count’s body.

Bringing his hands together, he began a prayer.

It was the duty of a priest to pray for the dead.

Even if his life had been filled with nothing but sin, he would be given a chance to reflect before the Lord.

"May he remain by Your side and receive Your teachings."

The god Audin followed delighted in punishing sinners. His teachings were not kind—they were closer to a personal beating.

A sinner’s repentance would be assisted by the Lord’s fists and feet. That was how it was understood.

“May you find peace there.”

Peace?

Enkrid wondered if that was possible.

Ragna stood up, his movements unsteady. Though he didn’t let out a groan, his body was far from unharmed.

Even he had overexerted himself.

His sword was damaged, the armor wrapped around his body was torn, most of it in ruins.

Fortunately, no one had the energy to mock him for it.

Jaxon, too, was still standing with a hole in his stomach. Yet his expression remained impassive as he slowly pushed himself off the ground.

“It’s over.”

His voice carried an odd sense of relief, mixed with a faint tinge of regret.

Did he want to be the one to land the final blow?

Perhaps.

The rain continued falling.

Enkrid turned his gaze toward Rem, who had yet to rise on his own.

Rem stared right back at him.

What are you waiting for?

Enkrid asked with his eyes.

Rem, after a long moment of contemplation, finally spoke.

“Captain.”