326 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 326. It was an honor. Enkried was in a half-dead state from receiving the knight's sword, but after two days had passed, he felt somewhat better. His monstrous recovery ability came through once again. Naturally, he was not in perfect condition. ‘My grip feels weak.’ Perhaps it was a blessing that his shoulder got dislocated right after catching the sword. If he had held on a moment longer, it would have strained all the muscles in his arm from the forearm upwards. Though he wasn’t in great shape, he couldn't miss the party. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he couldn't stay idle even if he chose to rest. The people around him simply wouldn’t let him. "Captain!" Starting with Helma, soldiers who had become familiar with him visited one by one, entering the tent where Enkried lay. "Would you like a bite of eel?" The soldiers who were cooking came as well. "You were magnificent." A commander from the reconnaissance unit also showed up. There were even several soldiers who would usually make snide remarks. Some looked awkward, but eventually, they all showed their faces. "It was an honor to fight with you." They spoke in unison. Enkried looked at them silently. The ones who had entered with excitement all shut their mouths when Enkried didn't say anything. They couldn’t even muster a mumble. A moment of silence passed. A cold winter breeze entered through the tent entrance, leaving a chilling touch. Some soldiers felt their fine hair stand on end. 'Did I overdo it back then?' 'I think I did.' The soldiers began to look uneasy, taking cues from one another. "Uh, Captain?" Unable to bear it, Helma spoke up. Enkried looked at Helma without the slightest hint of a smile. There was no need to organize his thoughts. He just needed to express his usual thoughts. However, he wanted to look at each of their faces before he spoke. To instill sincerity, not just disperse hollow words into the air. To engage directly, recognizing clearly who he was speaking to. He had learned this from a certain Crang. Enkried did just that. He acted as he had learned. To the other person, it might have seemed like a chilly blast of wind, but to Enkried, sincerity and genuine intent were more important. "I, too." Enkried began to speak. If receiving the knight's sword was an honor, then fighting alongside these soldiers was something similar, or even greater than that, for Enkried. Why wouldn't it be? These were comrades who took up spears to protect their families, friends, and lives. Some might have done it for the meager coins, but even they had to fight for the comrades beside them. There was a reason the word 'camaraderie' existed. In that sense, they were the same. They risked their lives to understand the enemy terrain. They served as the eyes and hands of the army. Without them, he couldn’t have fought as he had. So how could it not be an honor? For this reason, there was no need to hide his respect for them. His lips opened, and he spoke what he had to. "It was an honor." Enkried continued from where he had paused. After a moment of silence. One of the soldiers, who heard his words, slapped his forehead. A loud smack echoed. "…Ah, damn it, I'm a fool." The soldier muttered as he rubbed his forehead. Especially since he was one of those who used to criticize Enkried. Helma saw this and laughed heartily. The soldier looked at laughing Helma with determination and said, "Go on, Captain, if you permit it!" "What are you babbling about, you fool." Helma grabbed the neck of the babbling soldier and tucked it under his arm. The soldier, though choking, did not ask to be released. Though isn’t it odd to call him ‘Captain’ when the leader is standing right here? When asked if it was all right, a middle-aged man holding a bottle of good wine said, "It's fine. A captain is a captain!" Upon investigation, this person turned out to be the commander and in charge of this unit. Someone like that was the first to say such a thing. And it didn’t stop there. Nurath came over. "Is the captain okay?" Suddenly, she whispered with Crise, a remarkable familiarity between them. Nurath was the personal guard and deputy to Commander Garrett. In other words, calling Enkried a company commander would be more fitting. Yet, she too called him simply the captain. After hearing everything, Enkried roughly grasped the situation. "Hey, Captain, tell us some stories. We've been dying of curiosity about what you've been up to!" Even Garrett said this much. He had single-handedly rushed into enemy lines and swung his sword, affecting the tide of battle from day one. Many incidents followed, including his disappearance and various escapades, but what remained most shocking in the soldiers' eyes was surely the sight of one man's back. The sword wielded by a single individual. The momentum that Enkried had created. "Captain’s sword!" Because someone who saw him fight had dubbed him with a bizarre nickname like that, everyone began calling him Captain. Thanks to the medic who mended his dislocated shoulder, an even stranger nickname caught on. "They're also calling you the Sword of Patience, you know?" Crise, blessed with sharp ears, informed him about what he had overheard. Considering it was due to his incredible endurance against pain, it was an overly grandiose name. In reality, rather than such nicknames, the term ‘mad company commander’ was more commonly circulated, but nicknames are fickle and fleeting. The victory celebration lasted two days. Enkried, acknowledging the importance of rest after pushing his body to its limits, heartily participated. In short, he ate, drank, and rested. "Eel!" "Trout!" From a variety of seafood to roasted suckling pigs, wine, and even expensive whiskey circulated. "For the Captain's sword!" "Let's eat and drink as if there's no tomorrow!" Garrett held his liquor better than expected. Enkried had never lost in a drinking bout before, but Garrett drank exceptionally well. After downing three or four bottles of potent spirits on his own, he sang in a clear voice. It wasn’t the first time such an event had occurred; several soldiers joined in, adding chants between the verses as if it were a chorus. "Hurrah!" When the world calls upon us! "Hurrah!" They say we sell our swords for gold! "Hurrah!" Thus, we sell our swords for gold! "Hurrah!" We are mercenaries! "Hurrah!" We sell our swords for gold! "Hurrah!" And pledge our lives to loyalty, as mercenaries! Enkried had heard this song while wandering the continent, but never had he heard it sung so flawlessly. Garrett's voice was naturally gifted. In terms of swordsmanship, it was like a straight yet supple blade. His voice would burst forth at the necessary moments and then envelop softly. Amidst the soldiers chanting "Hurrah," Garrett finished the song and approached Enkried, who was seated. "I've already made a song for you." This statement made Enkried tilt his head in curiosity. What song could he have made? "I'll sing it for you later." Garrett laughed, patting his stomach. His appearance was endearing, and his personality matched. He was indeed a decent human being. There was a reason Marcus placed him here. Now that he thought about it, Greyham, the lord and commander of Border Guard, also seemed unworried about betrayal. It was Crise who had the concerns back then. He realized again how unnecessary those worries were. "Yes, I'll listen to it then." Having had a few drinks, celebrated victory, and learned some lessons about glory in battle, celebrating with comrades—what he could call brothers in arms—was joyful as well. A few soldiers, observing him, murmured that he was still just a human being. Of course, he was human, not a monster. "Do you all not know? The captain will probably have us up training by dawn after all this revelry. I’d wager on it. It’s the way of a madman!" Crise, seemingly a bit drunk, declared loudly, occasionally slapping his palms between his legs. As a joke, he wagered his manhood. "Really?" "If you don’t believe me, wager." It was a natural flow, and Crise began collecting coins from some soldiers. Enkried brushed off the initial few words, knowing Crise’s antics all too well. It wasn’t something to pay much attention to. While raising his glass, he caught Ragna's eye and offered a nod, raising his cup in silent acknowledgment. 'Thank you.' Though intended for the boatman, the thanks extended to Ragna and everyone involved. He had created what was called the Sword of Suppression. What would he have done without Ragna during the process? He would have found a way, regardless. Enkried would have done so. But it was undeniable that Ragna's presence had shortened that time. Now, he realized the importance of having her around. If she were to leave, he might ask once if she truly meant it. So, it seemed natural to tell Saxon, who had left temporarily for business, to return. 'Is it my greed?' To have people surrounding him, keeping them close. Is it the right thing to do? 'Do I need them as a barrier to cover my inadequate abilities?' It was a continuation of thoughts that had passed through his mind since childhood. But it was unnecessary now. As for inadequate abilities, Enkried made a fist and then opened his hand. The pain was diminishing in real-time. Thanks to the regenerative body based on the techniques of isolation, his body had changed. The sword he wielded had transformed. His mindset hadn’t changed much from the past, but it was clear something had shifted. 'No.' Not a barrier, but friends. Comrades. Sometimes a teacher, and sometimes part of a fighting unit. He would ask them. If at a crucial crossroads, he would definitely ask. Or rather, he would tell them: they are free to leave. What if, like now, it was a path where death was clearly in sight? 'I'll use today.' It was a determination to use even the curses. It was no longer a passive stance, but a proactive direction. And yet, his determination to do his utmost to escape today remained unchanged. If he couldn’t make a mark on today, he would let them leave. That was the right path. Enkried had no doubts. He wasn’t troubled. He simply made a decision. "Let's eat and drink!" Helma shouted from the side, having stripped off his top, covering only his chest. Wasn’t he cold? His abs and the scars on his body were visible. "You're my woman!" One soldier, getting cheeky, got smacked in the head and abdomen, rolled off to the side, and threw up his insides. Sure, she’s yours, all right. Enkried chuckled. For today, he abandoned unnecessary thoughts. He focused on resting. "Our minds need rest just as much as our bodies, brother." Audin had said as much before. He even forgot to mull things over. For just a day, he thought of nothing. He existed purely in reality. He lived the unyielding present. Today, the likes of which will not return, was priceless. Enkried laughed, ate, and drank. "The chef, the chef!" A soldier with culinary skills murmured as he approached at some point, and Enkried responded. "Why are you telling me?" "Come and patronize me." This friend's business sense was notable. Not quite at the level of Crise, but not bad either. "Alright." "It's an honor." To the soldier's remark, two soldiers watching from the side chimed in. "Me too." "It’s an honor." Were they mimicking him now? Drunk and out of their senses, huh? Enkried laughed and playfully cuffed the two on the head. "Ouch!" The two soldiers laughed as they got hit. Was that a clumsy imitation? The next morning at dawn, despite only having slept for two hours, Enkried resumed his training. He warmed up without overexerting himself. Still, a few soldiers, half-dead from hangovers, rubbed their eyes as they watched. ‘After drinking and feasting like that yesterday, waking up to train at dawn? Is this right?’ What could they do? Enkried’s body was more accustomed to training than not doing it at this point. It was only natural that Crise pocketed some coins from his wager. After resting for three days like that, Enkried had sufficiently pulled himself together. It was time to return. Still unable to walk properly, Garrett provided a carriage. Just before departure, Garrett faced Enkried. "Captain Enkried." "Do you have something to say?" Wasn't he frequently pestered about sharing stories and battles he experienced? Although it wasn't difficult, the middle-aged man gazing at him with bright eyes could be a bit overwhelming. He even mentioned composing a song. Still, Enkried hadn’t had the chance to hear it. "How about taking over as the commander of the Green Pearl battalion?" Garrett suggested, leaning against the carriage with a yawn. There wasn't a hint of tension. Enkried had previously turned down similar offers—offers that were, to be honest, even more appealing. From the commander of the Border Guard and the lord of the castle. "No, I'm not interested." Upon his immediate refusal, Garrett chuckled. "I figured you'd say that." "Then why ask if you already knew?" "Because I'm planning to retire." "Then why ask?" "Because I think the successor will have a tough time." When Enkried gave him a questioning look, Garrett elaborated. "Being in this position, the pressure from the central command is no joke. Marcus seems to be shielding us from it for now, but there's no telling how long that will last. Plus, don’t you think the current situation is somewhat reminiscent of a canine's plight?" What was he trying to say? "Are you suggesting a rebellion might break out or something?" Crise butted in from behind. It was yet another conversation just between the two of them, but Enkried grasped a little. They had defeated the external threat of Azphen, but that victory could become a catalyst for some other events. Of course, it wasn't something to worry about immediately. Enkried wasn’t concerned. Not at the moment. He was too busy assimilating what he had gained from the “knight's sword.” So his current concern was returning to the Border Guard, drifting in and out of sleep in the carriage. Seeing their leader indifferent, Crise was also somewhat nonchalant. He, too, believed it wasn’t an issue that would emerge immediately. As they returned to the Border Guard, familiar faces naturally greeted them first. "You’re back?" "The wanderer Theresa welcomes the captain." "Brother, was your journey peaceful?" Enkried realized he was truly back.