352 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

**Chapter 352: Feeling Serenity** Krang thought it was an unusual experience. "Is this what it feels like to be guarded by a knight?" Throughout his travels on the continent, he had never felt such tranquility. Even though there had been more assassination attempts than in any other situation he had encountered. The attacks by those disguised as merchants were thwarted before they even began, but that wasn't the end. Afterward, they entered the city of Midpour. "Thank you! Thank you!" A man, claiming to be the son of the local landowner, was overjoyed, tears in his eyes. Despite the pain in his mangled ankle caught in a trap, he acted as if he might kiss the ground. Of course, he didn’t actually press his face into the dirt. That was just how glad he was. Having narrowly escaped death and then following while still on edge, his reaction was understandable. "Even if that man was an assassin, no one would have been harmed." Krang's guard said, observing the scene. "I think the same," Krang nodded and whispered. If they had harmed the son of the landowner or ignored him, the assassin guild would’ve framed them for murder. Therefore, the landowner’s son was likely unrelated to the assassins. Nonetheless, no one let their guard down. That was the crux of what Krang's guard had mentioned. Throughout their journey, the landowner's son remained at the center of the party. He was in a position where any attempted trickery would have no effect. Meanwhile, Krang kept a clear distance, and Enclide tended to him, even rummaging through his belongings. His touch was thorough, though the son was almost oblivious of it. In agony from the near loss of his ankle, what could he possibly think? Enduring such pain would have been abnormal in itself. For an ordinary person, maintaining composure after sustaining such an injury is impossible. A timid soul wouldn’t be blamed for pleading for life amidst tears and snot. Even someone with courage, experiencing such an ordeal for the first time, would struggle to remain calm. Enclide and the party watched him until they finally entered Midpour. The city was distinguished by its peculiarly structured walls, built with various colored stones after several renovations. Cities in Nowrilia typically emulated the capital's walls as a virtue, which was expected. The capital's walls were known for their formidable majesty. In a continent where monsters and wild beasts roamed freely, even thieves could not move in small numbers. Consequently, there were no villages or small communities. Humans had to construct large cities to survive. Humanity advanced accordingly. As an offshoot, construction technology developed rapidly, and the traces of such advancement were evident in Midpour. Even now, stones were being lined up and stacked in front of one side of the set wall as a new wall was rising. "Thank you so much!" Being a city founded on surrounding farmlands, the ruling lord was always the major landowner. Simultaneously, the lord, governing the region with the kingdom’s most land, was referred to as the Marquess of Fertile Land. There was some back-and-forth about whether the landowner under the Marquess should express gratitude and extend an invitation. And then. "If we were the ones who trapped your son and orchestrated this act, what would you do by inviting us?" With just a single remark, Enclide made the landowner withdraw. Someone at the landowner's level is far from naive. With Enclide's words, it became apparent that his goodwill would not be accepted by them. Subtly, he might have agreed with Enclide’s sentiment. "I shall repay this debt at a later date." The landowner retreated. He would pursue the group that targeted his son or those associated with them. If needed, he might even borrow the strength of the Marquess. It wasn’t something Enclide needed to interfere with. Afterward, the party secured an inn, and a meal laced with poison was served. “It’s poison.” Thanks to Jaksen’s quick discernment, the assassination attempt failed once more. Later, while heading through an alley toward another eatery, someone tossed a dagger. Naturally, it was a poisoned dagger, but Enclide caught and returned it with his gloved hand, with even greater speed than when it was thrown. “Ack.” A dying scream rang out from within the alleyway. “Why would someone who can’t dodge their own thrown dagger try such a thing?” Rem grumbled, seemingly annoyed by the relentless attackers from every direction. Whenever the streets went quiet, they attacked again. Rem assembled his modular spear and rested it on his shoulder, with an arm draped over it. The posture seemed relaxed, but in truth, it was far from careless. There was even a poisoned dart aimed at Rem, but he simply tilted his waist aside, deflecting it with the spear handle. The assassin, like a stealthy rat, kept throwing and hiding. Rem found it bothersome to chase them every time. It was understandable. Even after this, the assassins persistently harassed them. Whenever they let their guard down, poisoned daggers and bolts intermittently rained down. They didn't specifically target Krang. They aimed at the entire party indiscriminately, but it was futile. Useless, really. Occasionally, some attackers jumped out, but they weren’t skilled assassins, just ragtag ruffians. With no small villages in existence, people inevitably gathered in cities. Ruffian gangs were common in all big cities. A few among them dared to attack. Inevitably, it was in vain again. Thwack, crack, thud. A man named Ragna stepped in, dispatching the ruffians with fists and feet smoothly. “A monster!” One of the ruffians fled, yelling, but no one in the party gave chase. “They probably bribed someone with a few kronas to do this. Poisoning the food was likely done in a similar fashion.” Jaksen noted that the poisoning was likely the work of the innkeeper, but Enclide didn’t bother interrogating her. Jaksen advised against it. “It’s a common tactic. They claim it’s another drug rather than poison and instruct to use it.” Krang listened intently to Jaksen. It was a method he hadn’t heard of before. He recalled a past incident when he nearly died from a potent poison. At the time, he couldn’t pinpoint when the poisoning occurred. There wasn’t a single suspect. Was this why? It seemed likely. “One of them might claim to be engaged to a member of the party or part of a noble family, secretly following us. People tend to nod at such excuses. Since we don't fall for their tricks, they deceive others, those unlikely to be suspected, to do their bidding. They often pretend to be concerned about travel fatigue, asking to sprinkle what they claim to be good medicine discreetly, ensuring it remains a secret from their supposed pursuers. That's likely how they went about it.” It’s a trivial scheme but quite effective. What if the innkeeper or a waitress secretly tried the powder themselves? The assassin guild wouldn’t concern themselves with that. Instead, they’d probably use a poison that takes a day to cause symptoms rather than one that acts immediately. Fortunately, the innkeeper and waitress were ethical. They sprinkled the powder entirely on the food, not stealing it for themselves. The waitress who served the meal glanced at the party discreetly, because of this. Of course, Enclide and the others had faces that naturally drew attention. Wearing hoods inside the inn would have attracted more stares, so they boldly showed their faces. Naturally, this attracted attention. Their indifferent attitude towards the pursuers' gaze also seemed to prick the pride of a few assassins. As a result. “Above.” Along with Jaksen’s warning. From a dim spot, precisely when meals became difficult to find at the inn, an ambusher fell from above as they headed to another restaurant. There were so many daggers thrown their way that it seemed they could open a stall with them. Rem, Enclide, and Ragna moved simultaneously. The trio’s weapons sliced through the air above. The body of the elven assassin that had descended from above was split into six parts. Blood rained down to the ground below. Entrails, flesh, severed arms, and legs tumbled onto the alley floor with a dull thud. Had they wielded their weapons like that in the middle of the main street, guards would have raced over at the horrific sight. “Tch.” The assassin’s dying breath was his final words. With skin so pale it reflected the moonlight, his face smashed into the dirt-mixed ground. Several more ambushes followed afterward. But something… “They all collapse before they even begin.” It was just as the guard had stated. Krang saw it the same way. And if that wasn’t enough. “Hold on.” When Jaksen briefly stepped away, the attacks noticeably decreased. During that time, Enclide found a restaurant. “They say their roasted chicken is exceptional here.” “Hm?” Krang tilted his head. Was this really the time to seek delicious food? “Not fond of chicken?” Enclide asked back. Of course not. It was just that he hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time. Having endured poisoned meals so much, he had been eating purely for survival, not for taste. With that thought, Krang entered the restaurant. “Do be careful.” The guard advised but didn’t stop his master. Even he seemed to think it was safe enough to eat now. And so they did. Krang loosened his belt for the first time in ages, indulging in the meal. This place specialized in roasted chicken, and the method was splendid. The chicken was skewered on a long spit and roasted slowly over a wood fire. The process required at least half a day of gently turning the skewered chicken near the flames. “This recipe has been handed down since my grandfather’s time. It’s my pride.” The chef and restaurant owner showed pride. And rightly so. The roasted chicken melted in the mouth. A thin layer of seasoning was applied over salt and pepper, its crisp skin making it superior to any noble’s meal. Jabbing a fork into the meat cut through firm yet tender flesh with ease. Krang continued to eat hungrily. “Haven’t eaten in days, have you? You’re enjoying it.” The owner, noting the hearty appetite, served a juice made from some fruit he’d developed. That too was exquisite, its sweet and tart flavors blending to cleanse the greasy palate. As the urban population grew dense, the most developed art was cuisine. Cities naturally gathered diverse ingredients as central logistics hubs. In agricultural cities like Midpour, livestock thrived. The ever-expanding city walls here were due in part to this. Without walls, villages and facilities were protected by stationed soldiers outside, but livestock couldn’t be housed that way. Not everyone could turn into warriors battling monsters like shepherds of the wilderness. Naturally, cows, horses, chickens, and sheep were raised inside the walls. Elsewhere, some vagrants even lived intimately with a few animals. In winter, livestock helped maintain warmth. Because of this, chickens were abundantly supplied within the city. They were raised extensively. For a city primarily engaged in farming, those who governed effectively allowed surplus grain to feed livestock. That’s why such restaurants existed. “We should kidnap this chef.” Rem joked, causing the chef serving roasted potatoes alongside their meal to pale. “What? This is a landowner-invested restaurant, don’t even think about it.” In this city, the highest authority was the landowner. Enclide reassured him, saying it was just a joke. At some point, Jaksen returned, already gnawing on a chicken leg. “You sneaky cat, walking so quietly?” “You’re just dull.” The two were always bickering. Outside, a wild horse was munching on chicken, though it was a horse. “That’s not some beast, right?” A freckle-faced boy, likely a restaurant worker, asked nervously. “It doesn’t bite.” Enclide reassured the boy, but naturally, the kid didn’t venture close to the horse known as One Eye. Who would want to approach a horse chomping down on chicken bones? “Let’s have a drink.” Rem suggested. “We’ll drink and then pack it up.” Enclide agreed. Though they appeared scattered at tables without order, lacking discipline even to a slight degree, in truth, none let their guard down. Krang observed, listened, and experienced this, feeling a sense of peace. Their calm demeanor brought him that tranquility. Thus, he enjoyed the chicken and had a glass of the cherry-made liquor. The liquor had a distinctive aroma. Had he not been with this group, Krang might have suspected it to be poisoned. But it wasn’t. “Can we buy a few bottles, sir?” Enclide inquired as he purchased several bottles of the drink. Once the party had satisfied their hunger, they returned to the inn. “Get some rest.” After a brief exchange of farewells, Krang washed up, brushed his teeth using a thin brush to clean the meat stuck between them, and rinsed his mouth with a brine made from cheap salt. The cotton-stuffed bed, rather than one made of straw, was a testament to the wealth of this city. A night spent on a bed that was neither scratchy nor hard. If that wasn’t luxury, Krang didn’t know what was. “It’s unbelievable.” The bodyguard remarked. Krang agreed. Miraculously, after just one night, the ambushes ceased. ‘It must be because that red-haired friend disappeared.’ Krang’s insight allowed him to see the situation clearly. Once the man named Jaksen vanished, so did the attacks. What had he done? Suddenly curious, Krang decided not to ask. Just by looking, he knew Jaksen wouldn’t provide an answer. As they left the city, the assassins’ frantic efforts continued. That’s right—it was sheer desperation. “No one gets through here!” A man, claiming to be an arena champion, lunged at them. But— “I’ve got this.” Dunbakkel, a beastman, stepped forward and smashed his knee into the opponent’s face. He deflected the opponent’s spear with his scimitar and charged forward, executing the move. He propelled himself off the ground with his left foot and struck upward with his right knee. It was an impeccable display of martial skill. The champion, his face caved in, collapsed onto the ground. “Where’s this arena? Do they just gather hatchlings to fight?” The beastman glanced at the gathered crowd. In response, the crowd dispersed and fled. The weather cleared as if the storm had never happened. The party mounted their horses and traveled at a moderate pace. Managing the horses’ stamina was key, allowing for a faster journey overall. Maintaining a consistent pace without exhausting the horses was fundamental in long-distance travel. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed through the air toward them. The arrow was aimed precisely at Krang, but Enclide snatched it mid-air. Thunk, quiver. Krang faced the trembling arrow shaft that had stopped just in front of him, but he wasn’t overly startled. It was intercepted, so everything was fine. Holding the arrow shaft, Enclide cast his gaze into the distance. “This one seems authentic.” The end of the clumsy attempts. Their final tactic was long-range sniping. And this time, it appeared to be a skillful archer. Krang didn’t see it, but Enclide spotted the mounted archer firing and fleeing in the distance. Could they catch up if they gave chase on horseback? No, that would be difficult. Then what? Their only option was to deflect every arrow that came at them. The assassins had disappeared, but now they faced a mounted archer. The opponent’s move was tricky but not threatening. That was Krang’s conclusion. Even with tens or hundreds of arrows coming their way, he wouldn’t die. With Enclide by his side, he felt confident of that. That was why he felt at peace. The distant archer on horseback wasn’t menacing. Moreover— Neigh. The wild horse neighed and approached Enclide. “Are we going to catch him?” Hearing Enclide’s reply, it seemed they wouldn’t let the archer go unchallenged.