333 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

333. The Spreading Stimulation (2) "Is it alright to just leave him like that?" Graham's deputy looked at his superior and asked. He questioned if this was the right course of action. After all, they had left Encreed with some noble or merchant leader, just tossing him aside. Even though they found him, wasn't this something the lord could resolve by himself? He couldn't articulate all his thoughts inside, so his question remained brief. Lord Graham, holding his sword, responded. "If you don't just leave him behind? I'm still the lord here. If they dislike it, they'll come to sever my neck." The deputy thought their lord was being quite reckless with his own life these days, but held back his words. Even he sensed that if Encreed truly wished, becoming a mere lord was no challenge. Moreover, Graham seemed wholeheartedly willing to lay down his own neck. "Understood." The deputy agreed. There was nothing more to say. Instead, he observed his lord. Graham's unprecedented fervor caught his eyes. Graham half-closed his eyes and slowly lowered his sword in a graceful descent. ‘A pressing sword?’ Was Encreed's display of swordsmanship solely impactful to Esther? No, it was not. For the first time in ages, Graham’s heart raced. His pulse thundered. Uncontainable desires and dreams swirled like a spiral of kindling, fueling his spirit. His emotions became the fuel moving his body. 'Aha.' Amidst the constant swinging of his sword, a small realization struck his mind. Graham recalled the training he had done yesterday, the day before, and throughout the past week. He wasn't neglecting his training. Though he hadn't neglected it, was it truly his best effort? Had he truly exerted himself to the fullest? No. He hadn’t. He had been complacently settled in the present, maintaining the status quo. Making excuses of being busy because he was a lord? Thinking there was no further to climb? Had his initial zeal when first grabbing a sword quietly faded away over time? Could he speak of this openly before that young man? That young man was undoubtedly Encreed. A man with a dream of knighthood. Now walking the path he once laughed off. Back when he first joined the unit, a person worthy only of ridicule. Someone about whom unpleasant rumors spread, of selling himself to fellow soldiers. Just a low-ranking soldier. Having witnessed Encreed's transformation, it was only natural for it to become a source of stimulation. It allowed Graham, through swordplay, to reflect on the entirety of his life. ‘Being a lord doesn’t mean I must abandon the sword.’ Graham knew he wasn’t particularly bright. That was precisely why. He delegated most tasks to his deputy. In the meantime, he entrusted the erratic-eyed lunatic of the battalion, whose cunning was so impressive it evoked admiration, with various tasks. He also minimized his interactions with others. Because now, the desire to wield the sword was driving him to madness. The deputy couldn’t dissuade his lord. And he himself was no different. "Shall we spar?" He, too, belonged to the heavy infantry company, known as a veteran, an elite soldier. Now, he was not only the lord’s deputy but his bodyguard as well. Naturally, he had also witnessed Encreed. Saw his transformation, saw the present, and had even watched the recent battles. To say he felt nothing would be a lie. "Let’s have a match. I’ll show you the difference between us." The lord nodded. It wasn't just an occurrence between the two of them. It was something that affected the entire unit. Even the fairy battalion leader wasn't exempt. Sinar repeatedly practiced the same movements, wielding her sticks. Honing her precision and delicacy. The trigger for her was Encreed’s back when confronting a knight. ‘Block.’ A vivid, sharp emotion comprised of just three words — Sinar saw that. Her sensitivity made her aware of emotions, sometimes allowing her to read the hearts of others. She couldn't grasp everything, but powerful emotions often resonated easily. The stronger the opponent’s will, the more apparent it became. Thus, Sinar could sense the emotion Encreed felt when he blocked the knight. ‘Even in death, even split in half…’ Block. What kind of person could immerse themselves entirely, forgetting everything else? An individual who abandoned all to focus on a single point. Moreover, what were the fragments of emotion wedged in between? Pure euphoria that overshadowed fear. Not a lack of fear. Not ignorant of pain and suffering. Merely wrapping it all in ecstatic joy. By indulging in the moment, he forgot pain. Delaying concern for the impending agony, he immersed in the present. He lived only for now. ‘He’s mad.’ Sinar firmly declared. Claiming he was insane, that his mind was broken. And yet, thinking of him invoked an uncontrollable thrill. For someone who controlled emotions, such thrill wasn’t appropriate for a fairy. But at that moment, she forsook all form of emotional regulation. At Sinar’s fingertips, the sticks began to dance. Starting with delicacy, she moved forward, forgetting form and convention. The latent energy within her, harbored for so long, began to move of its own accord. She let it be. Didn't control it. Right now, all she wanted to do was wield her sword. It was Encreed's back that instilled this desire in her. * * * "Why wouldn't I be able to do it?" Encreed's exploits naturally stirred the soldiers in the unit, especially those who prided themselves on their sword skills. There were even soldiers who had followed him from Greenpearl to this very place, having witnessed his feats on the battlefield. These men boasted openly, claiming they were experienced fighters and insisting on joining the infamous crazy unit. It drew attention. Naturally, one of the original soldiers from the Border Guard approached him. "So, you're quite the fighter, huh? You sure talk a lot." The soldier from Greenpearl didn’t back down from the provocation; in fact, he was the one who had been babbling to Encreed. His name was Janssen. Turning his head, he replied with confidence. "More than a bit." He had fought on the front lines in the recent battle. He had trained relentlessly, inspired by Encreed's example. Underwent grueling regimens he had never attempted before. He was bound to show some confidence. "Bell, take it easy on him." Another soldier glanced at Janssen while cautioning him, which oddly seemed to prick his pride. The opponent in front, this Bell fellow, nodded and stepped forward. Ready for a bout. "You'll get hurt. You know that, right?" Janssen declared. "Yeah, let's see if I do." Bell replied. Bell was a soldier who had often received intensive training from the 'crazy unit'. The soldier from Greenpearl saw stars in broad daylight. He absorbed an incoming punch with his forehead and responded with a perfectly aimed blow to the temple, sprawling out on the ground. Advertisements The difference in skill was obvious. But more so, the difference in mindset was palpable. "Does it hurt? There are plenty just like me here." Bell spoke, wiping his forehead, and the fallen soldier lifted his head. "Janssen." "Ah, welcome." Janssen then joined Bell's squad. This wasn’t just an isolated incident with Janssen. All those who witnessed Encreed's combat devoted themselves fervently to training. Everyone sweated intensely as if possessed. Even without the notorious training sessions from the 'crazy unit', they rigorously pushed themselves. In hindsight, it seemed like a camp full of lunatics gathering. Of course, there were those who didn’t roll themselves over with the rest and opted to rest instead. Some avoided the hustle. Everything was done of their own free will; there was no coercion. But even they knew instinctively. 'If everyone else is pushing themselves and I’m just lounging around...?’ The difference on the battlefield would be evident. And so the stimulus spread. Rem was no exception. He began swinging his axe. Though at the tail end of winter, seeing Rem without his thermal leather armor was a rare sight. "Are you hurt?" Kreis, passing by in a hurry, showed concern. "If you don’t want an axe decorating your head, get lost." Kreis promptly complied. Following Rem's lead, Dunbakel also practiced as if chased by some invisible force. Though Rem didn't torment him like before, he mixed in sparring, training, and advice whenever needed. "Are all beast-men as dimwitted as you?" "That's a racially discriminatory remark." "So what of it? You wanna die?" Sometimes it seemed like Rem was venting his frustration, but it was all for the best. Dunbakel learned what he could, even while taking hits. Aoudin noticed the changes too. Raguna had changed, and so had his commander. The feelings it stirred? Many. Therefore, Aoudin also fell into deep contemplation for a brief moment. He thought it fortunate to have Raguna leading them. 'If it had been Rem who changed...' The barbarian would have challenged for sparring incessantly, enjoying the situation with his superior skills. Raguna wasn’t like that. Advertisements He remained as lazy as ever. Unlike before, he now swung his sword and sparred with the captain but didn’t provoke to crush Aoudin or Rem. More than anything, Raguna, lost in thought, didn’t venture much outside the barracks these days. Yet Aoudin was still unsettled. ‘Moving ahead of me?' He pondered. ‘Is it time to lift the restrictions?’ Had Rem changed as well, it would have prompted deep deliberation, but now wasn't the time. Even though Aoudin sought a solution, he didn’t believe it would prevail upon those who placed limitations on him. Thus, “The path you have traversed, retrace it; therein lies the answer to what obstructs you.” He would recite the sacred texts and pray. So he did. Besides those moments, he devoted time to meticulously refining his physique. Continuously building up, piece by piece, was the source of Aoudin’s strength. He revisited the process — from start to present. Reexamined the transformation of his body, step by step. And he did so thoroughly. As much as Encreed advanced, those around him also moved forward, spreading stimulation that reverberated throughout the entire camp. Quiet, yet fervent. Fervent, yet understated. It was a transformation from within the camp. Previously, there were those inspired similarly, but this time it extended to the lord, influencing the entire city’s atmosphere. * * * "Could there be a better offer for you than this?" Encreed had forgotten the name of his opponent. He attempted to glance back at Graham, but he wasn't there. During the visit from Count Molsen and other dignitaries, Graham had intervened, but with this kind of person, he palmed it off to Encreed. ‘Is this how you treat a war hero?’ Even if calling himself a hero was embarrassing, should he be left to confront others alone? Is that what a lord does? Suddenly, Encreed had an overwhelming urge to spar with Graham. There were many things he could learn from him. Like how to fall gracefully, how to take hits well, or how to pass out painlessly. "My daughter may be mine, but she's the finest beauty in the land." Said a noble who resembled a toad, a merchant likely, as a woman, slightly more human than toad-like, shyly glanced at Encreed before averting her eyes. Should I just kill him? Obviously not an option. Should I just beat him up? “Is it Rem?” The lingering energy within his body moved of its own accord. He let it. Didn’t try to control it. All he wanted right now was to swing his sword. Encreed's back made her feel this way. * * * "Why wouldn’t I be able to do it?" It was only natural that Encreed's exploits had sparked enthusiasm among the soldiers, particularly those who fancied themselves with a sword. Several soldiers had even followed him all the way from Greenpearl after witnessing his feats on the battlefield. These were the ones who couldn't stop bragging, claiming they were skilled fighters and declaring they would join the renowned crazy unit. It drew attention. Naturally, one of the original soldiers from the Border Guard latched onto him. "So, you're quite the brawler, huh? You sure do talk a lot." The soldier from Greenpearl didn’t ignore the provocation; in fact, he was the one who had been mouthing off to Encreed. His name was Janssen. Turning his head, he asserted. "I am." He had fought on the front lines in the recent battle. He had trained relentlessly every day, inspired by Encreed's example. Underwent rigorous training regimes he had never attempted before. He was bound to show some confidence. "Bell, take it easy on him." Another soldier glanced at Janssen, cautioning him, which pricked his pride in a peculiar way. The opponent in front, this Bell fellow, nodded and stepped forward. Ready for a bout. "You'll get hurt. You know that, right?" Janssen declared. "Yeah, let's see if I do." Bell replied. Bell was a soldier who had often received intensive training from the 'crazy unit'. The soldier from Greenpearl saw stars in broad daylight. He absorbed an incoming punch with his forehead and responded with a perfectly aimed blow to the temple, sprawling out on the ground. Advertisements The difference in skill was obvious. But more so, the difference in mindset was palpable. "Does it hurt? There are plenty just like me here." Bell said, wiping his forehead, while the fallen soldier lifted his head. "Janssen." "Ah, welcome." Janssen then joined Bell's squad. This wasn’t just an isolated incident with Janssen. All those who witnessed Encreed's combat devoted themselves fervently to training. Everyone sweated intensely as if possessed. Even without the notorious training sessions from the 'crazy unit', they rigorously pushed themselves. In hindsight, it seemed like a camp full of lunatics gathering. Of course, there were those who didn’t roll themselves over with the rest and opted to rest instead. Some avoided the hustle. Everything was done of their own free will; there was no coercion. But even they knew instinctively. 'If everyone else is pushing themselves and I’m just lounging around...?’ The difference on the battlefield would be evident. And so the stimulus spread. Rem was no exception. He began swinging his axe. Though at the tail end of winter, seeing Rem without his thermal leather armor was a rare sight. "Are you hurt?" Kreis, passing by in a hurry, showed concern. "If you don’t want an axe decorating your head, get lost." Kreis promptly complied. Following Rem's lead, Dunbakel also practiced as if chased by some invisible force. Though Rem didn't torment him like before, he mixed in sparring, training, and advice whenever needed. "Are all beast-men as dimwitted as you?" "That's a racially discriminatory remark." "So what of it? You wanna die?" Sometimes it seemed like Rem was venting his frustration, but it was all for the best. Dunbakel learned what he could, even while taking hits. Aoudin noticed the changes too. Raguna had changed, and so had his commander. The feelings it stirred? Many. Therefore, Aoudin also fell into deep contemplation for a brief moment. He thought it fortunate to have Raguna leading them. 'If it had been Rem who changed...' The barbarian would have challenged for sparring incessantly, enjoying the situation with his superior skills. Raguna wasn’t like that. Advertisements He remained as lazy as ever. Unlike before, he now swung his sword and sparred with the captain but didn’t provoke to crush Aoudin or Rem. More than anything, Raguna, lost in thought, didn’t venture much outside the barracks these days. Yet Aoudin was still unsettled. ‘Moving ahead of me?' He pondered. ‘Is it time to lift the restrictions?’ Had Rem changed as well, it would have prompted deep deliberation, but now wasn't the time. Even though Aoudin sought a solution, he didn’t believe it would prevail upon those who placed limitations on him. Thus, “The path you have traversed, retrace it; therein lies the answer to what obstructs you.” He would recite the sacred texts and pray. So he did. Besides those moments, he devoted time to meticulously refining his physique. Continuously building up, piece by piece, was the source of Aoudin’s strength. He revisited the process — from start to present. Reexamined the transformation of his body, step by step. And he did so thoroughly. As much as Encreed advanced, those around him also moved forward, spreading stimulation that reverberated throughout the entire camp. Quiet, yet fervent. Fervent, yet understated. It was a transformation from within the camp. Previously, there were those inspired similarly, but this time it extended to the lord, influencing the entire city’s atmosphere. * * * "Could there be a better offer for you than this?" Encreed had forgotten the name of his opponent. He attempted to glance back at Graham, but he wasn't there. During the visit from Count Molsen and other dignitaries, Graham had intervened, but with this kind of person, he palmed it off to Encreed. ‘Is this how you treat a war hero?’ Even if calling himself a hero was embarrassing, should he be left to confront others alone? Is that what a lord does? Suddenly, Encreed had an overwhelming urge to spar with Graham. There were many things he could learn from him. Like how to fall gracefully, how to take hits well, or how to pass out painlessly. "My daughter may be mine, but she's the finest beauty in the land." Said a noble who resembled a toad, a merchant likely, as a woman, slightly more human than toad-like, shyly glanced at Encreed before averting her eyes. Should I just kill him? Obviously not an option. Should I just beat him up? “Is it Rem?” Crys’ nagging seemed to echo faintly in his ears. Even Sinar seemed busy today, leaving him without words. Ester had locked herself away, claiming she needed to meditate and showed no indication of emerging. Advertisements Should I have brought Rem instead? He would have managed the raucous Rem and wrapped things up quickly. He should have sparred with Rem in the morning. Even the disruption of such a schedule bothered him. Nonetheless, he couldn’t take out his frustration here. While conversing outwardly, Encreed began an imaginary sparring session within. His mind was busy countering Rem's lightning-quick axe attacks. ‘He used a sling, didn’t he?’ How should I avoid that? Who knows. He would do his best. The journey of learning through experience awaited him. He was eager to embark on it. Patience aside, Encreed felt the futility of his current situation. Surely enough time had been spent. Hasn’t more time passed than it takes to drink a cup of tea? Of course, he downed the tea in one gulp. "So, hmm? What do you think?" Ignoring whatever proposal was made, he responded. "Well then, I’ll take my leave." With a refreshing comment, Encreed stood up. "Huh? Hey, I am a noble and the owner of the trading company responsible for this entire region!" The man recounted his credentials. Encreed didn’t even bother to shoot him a glance. He was eager to dash off and clash swords with Rem’s axe. Whether he was in charge of regional trade or not, wasn’t such a role meant for the absent lord? If the man was truly significant, Graham would have managed it himself. Thus, Encreed bore no responsibility. It was a maddening self-rationalization but not an incorrect one. As Encreed made his exit, the noble and merchant could only gape in bewilderment. It wasn’t just astonishment. The truth was, it wasn’t just this man experiencing a shift in emotions. How many had Encreed sent off like this? Many. Some even harbored a semblance of resentment. "This punk." The noble and merchant clenched his teeth. The muscles in his jaw protruded visibly beneath his skin. The daughter, more human than toad, had tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing a man who never met her gaze stirred her sorrow. Watching this unfold from outside the reception room, Crys observed. "Let's go!" Advertisements Almost an uninvited guest had departed. Crys knew that leaving things as they were could lead to chaos. Why wouldn’t it? It was blatantly obvious. Painfully obvious. Yet the humans who should deal with this were collectively losing their minds. Rather than anger, Crys felt an odd sense of joy. There was only one reason for this delight — it was Krona. It was all about the gold. "Just watch!" The noble and merchant erupted in anger, but Crys had no worries. A woman peeked from behind him and asked. "Is this about being a shield for neighboring merchants?" Crys blinked his large eyes in utter surprise at the woman's question. "Pardon? What do you mean?" "Pretending not to know, huh." Her words omitted ‘this bastard’, but it hung in the air nonetheless. Crys turned away, ultimately confirming her suspicion. Correct words indeed. If neighboring merchants chirped for control of the trade and markets of Border Guard, because such a role seemed vacant, then awarding it to someone was straightforward. They had heard last night about the most suitable figure who had entered the city. News from the Gilpin Guild traveled faster than the watchmen. “I should introduce myself properly as it seems I’ve delayed my greetings. Leona Lockfreid, the guild leader.” “Yes, you’re certainly swift with those introductions.” Leona responded to Crys’s greeting with a smile in her eyes. Both held myriad things within. Thus negotiations, once started, were unlikely to conclude swiftly. However, Crys didn’t intend to invest excessive time in such things.