Eternally Regressing Knight Novel - Chapter 807
Capítulo 807: Chapter 805 – The Scales are Always Fair
Chapter 805 – The Scales are Always Fair
“Oh.”
Marquis Baisar extended a hand.
He was in a state where even getting up on his own was a struggle.
The butler who had been standing by Kin’s side approached, took his hand, and helped him up. Just sitting up made the Marquis’s breathing a little heavier.
“Keck!”
As the Marquis coughed after sitting up, the butler brought a wide metal basin to his mouth, and the Marquis spat out with a wracking cough.
Black and yellow was mixed with a reddish tinge.
After the coughing subsided, Kin wiped the Marquis’s mouth.
“Hah.”
The Marquis, having finally caught his breath, let out a sigh.
Although he wasn’t right next to him, Enkrid caught the scent of death from the Marquis’s breath.
The smell was musty, dry, and thick.
“I have been waiting for you.”
“Why me?”
Enkrid didn’t bother to drag things out.
Wasting time with trivial talk in this conversation would be disrespectful to the Marquis.
“I’m sure you know my purpose.”
For a dying man, the Marquis’s gaze was sharp and upright.
It was on a different level from the gaze of the senile old man he had seen before, who couldn’t even recognize his own wife.
A giant of a noble house who had taken an era by storm—that was Marquis Baisar.
He was a man who had protected his family to the end, sometimes assisting the king, and sometimes standing at odds with the royal family.
The Marquis’s mouth opened, carrying the full weight of that life.
The power in his voice pushed away the god of death who had come to play by his side.
“Please marry Kin. It is my last wish before I die. It would be even better if you gave me a lovely grandchild.”
For a moment, Enkrid was almost fooled.
He even suspected that the old man had gone senile, but that was definitely not the case.
Just a moment ago he had been coughing as if to die and spitting up bloody phlegm, but now the corners of his mouth were slightly raised.
“A jest.”
Seeing Enkrid flustered by the unexpected blow, the Marquis laughed heartily.
Hearing just the sound of his laughter, one would wonder if this was really a dying old man.
If the Marquis’s trick just now were a sword style, it would be the pinnacle of deceptive swordsmanship.
Didn’t they say so in the Valen-style mercenary swordplay?
That the spirit of deception, where one even bets their own life, is the pinnacle of guile.
It was to push forward with a presence that made a lie seem like the truth.
Just like this old man was doing now.
It was an unexpected blow indeed.
All the more so because he had thought he was inured to this kind of joke.
Though it was a brief moment, Enkrid discovered a weak point in himself from the situation just now.
‘If Jaxen had seen that, he would have nagged me a bit.’
Was it said that the one most confident they are never off guard is the easiest to kill?
Had he become too overconfident due to recent events?
Not to the point of feeling omnipotent, but had he been confident that he wouldn’t be pushed back by most things now?
Still, one cannot predict everything.
That was the same in a fight as in a normal situation.
A thorn that pierces the gaps in one’s insight can always stab one’s heart.
‘If I’m fooled, then I’m fooled.’
That is to say, sometimes one must admit that they can be fooled.
One must recognize that they can be hit by an unexpected blow.
Even in such moments, one just has to respond.
Even if flustered or surprised, one just has to react.
‘What is needed is training.’
Knights were beings called calamities.
Through this kind of training, they gradually progressed from the ordinary to the extraordinary.
And that was the same even after becoming a knight.
‘To avoid becoming a half-measure, one can’t just be good at swinging a sword.’
In a way, it was just a small, light joke, but for Enkrid, it brought an epiphany.
It was likely thanks to the experience he had accumulated from the battle at the Thorn Fortress and against Beelrog.
His conversation with Luagarne would have had an influence as well.
The concept of combat arts surfaced in Enkrid’s mind.
It was also an extension of his previous realization.
Static, Centered, Circular, Fast, Flowing—in the end, the one who uses them is a person.
“You regain your composure quickly.”
The Marquis said.
Enkrid’s thoughts were different from an ordinary person’s.
The seemingly long train of thought had ended in the blink of an eye.
“I was surprised.”
At Enkrid’s answer, the Marquis nodded his head.
It wasn’t a joke thrown just to lighten the mood.
The Marquis had wanted to see the change in the man called Enkrid.
He wanted to see if he was still the same as before, going his own way without a care for power or anything else, or if he had changed.
He had attempted that by shaking his opponent’s emotions.
Enkrid was inwardly impressed.
As they say, even a worn sword can have a sharp edge.
He was not a knight, and in a fight, Enkrid could kill him with a single finger, but the true strength of a man who had lived his entire life as a noble holding power was not to be underestimated.
He had seized the moment Enkrid was flustered, and then noticed him regain his composure.
And then the Marquis spoke.
“Do not forget that the seditious movement currently happening in the capital is the work of the south, and that they are always preparing for war. I have told His Majesty as well, but I felt that you, sir, would be even less likely to forget my words.”
It was as if he had predicted that Enkrid would ask why he was being told about war preparations.
Was it the insight born from the intersection of perception and intelligence, or was it an intuition built from experience?
The Marquis led the conversation with an answer that skipped the process of asking and answering.
The undercurrent of seditious movement was the work of the south, and in the south lay the great nation of Lihin-Stetten.
Lihin-Stetten was a country that, bordering the Demon Realm, had fought against countless more monsters and beasts than could even be compared to the central continent.
And Enkrid could no longer smell the scent he had caught from the Marquis a little while ago.
The thick, dry scent of death was gone, and the Marquis spoke with a gaze that was reminiscent of his robust younger days.
“Do not be beaten by those damn southerners. I think my pride would be wounded.”
The man who had once been famous as a noble of the royal family spoke.
It seemed the story he wanted to tell was longer and had more to it, but the Marquis stopped there.
“You can watch from the afterlife.”
It was a counterattack to the joke he had thrown earlier.
At those words, Kin looked at Enkrid in surprise.
Was such a joke appropriate for a dying old man?
Was this bastard even human?
Her gaze was one that wondered if Rem hadn’t come wearing Enkrid’s mask.
On the contrary, the Marquis laughed heartily once again.
“My eye for people is second to none.”
Then, he dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand.
“You may go.”
He had come because the Marquis had wanted to see him before he died.
Now, there was nothing more to say.
That should have been right, but Enkrid opened his mouth before turning to leave.
“Is it a grudge? Or protection?”
Was a knight’s feeling sharp, or was the intuition of the man named Enkrid simply extraordinary?
The Marquis thought he had not revealed his inner thoughts, but Enkrid had read something and spoken.
The Marquis chose his words.
“Let’s say it’s both. I am a greedy man. I would also like to add that I have many lovely daughters besides Kin.”
Had Marquis Baisar always been this eloquent?
Come to think of it, Marcus was not a man who was lacking in words either.
As they say, a tiger does not father a dog, so this must have been the Marquis’s true self.
Or perhaps how he was in his younger, more spirited days.
The droplet of time pierces rock and changes people.
As the years passed and he had more to protect, the Marquis would have become more cautious, unable to speak carelessly.
And yet, in crucial moments, he would have reached his current position through bold choices.
What was the Marquis like, having shed such pretenses?
It was hard to define in a single word.
Enkrid felt a strange emotion as he left the room.
The Marquis looked outside with an indifferent face.
It was literally just greed, but looking at Enkrid reminded him of someone who had died a very long time ago.
“I will protect it.”
It had been the dead man’s favorite phrase.
He was the sword that protected the Marquis’s house, and a friend with whom he had spent his childhood.
He had been born with an innate talent for the sword.
Their personalities were different, their appearances were different, but why did he remind him of that friend?
‘He doesn’t give up.’
That friend had been like that too.
Had the house of the Marquis never faced a storm before?
It had.
Far too many.
One harsh wind had shaken the family’s businesses, and a fierce wave had swallowed people.
At the center of that storm, his friend had gone out to fight with a single sword.
It was an event from over 50 years ago.
The front line with the south had been pushed back, and the royal family had mobilized even the private soldiers of the nobility to fight.
His friend had died in that battle.
If it had been a fair and honorable battle, it would not have been so unjust.
“This was a duel.”
The sword of Baisar had said.
“No, this is war.”
The opponent had replied.
One couldn’t even call it cowardly.
The actual defeat was due to a lack of skill, a lack of national power, and a lack of talent.
It was an era where everything was lacking.
If it weren’t for the unprecedented genius named Cypress, Naurillia would have collapsed then.
The damage sustained at that time had caused the Kingdom of Naurillia to slowly wither, and in time, Aspen came to covet it.
The years were cruel, but.
‘The scales are always fair.’
At the end of those cruel years, the goddess of fortune had placed a heavy weight on one side of the scales.
Having now faced that weight, the Marquis lay down with a satisfied face.
He would be able to sleep soundly today.
He had revealed a part of his inner thoughts that he could not tell anyone.
The Marquis lay down, his heart at ease.
He relaxed his tension.
“Father.”
Kin called to him.
“Go to the Border Guard. And do not return.”
It is said that no matter which of the ten fingers you bite, they all hurt, but there was a finger that hurt more.
He had taken in the child left by his friend’s wife and embraced her into the house of Baisar.
Though he had treated her the same as his own children, that in itself may have been a wound.
How could the Marquis not know?
He was a man who had aged wisely.
He knew everything, but he also knew well that was all he could do for her.
“Go, Kin. My daughter.”
Tears welled up in Kin’s eyes.
She could see her father’s breath growing faint.
In place of the robustness that had momentarily chased away the god of death, all that remained was an old man who had accepted death.
“Yes, Father.”
The Marquis closed his eyes.
Today, he would have a very pleasant dream.
As he closed his eyes, pitch-black darkness rushed in, and then soon, bright sunlight and a meadow, white clouds, and a single thatched hut in the distance appeared.
In front of the meadow, as he had wished, his friend had come out to meet him.
“Have you been well?”
“Can’t you treat me like when we were young?”
“Shall I?”
Besides him, the Marquis met everyone he had lost.
His wife, who had died of illness long ago, appeared and smiled.
It was an expression that seemed as if it would serenely accept any complaint.
A benevolent smile.
She, who had always listened to his stories at any time, was there before him.
The Marquis walked between his friend and his wife.
***
Enkrid turned and thought about Marquis Baisar and his house.
‘To establish oneself as a noble, military power is essential.’
There was also a story Marcus had let slip.
“Even now, the private soldiers of the Marquis’s house possess excellent skill, but it’s not their golden age. Rather, it’s a period of decline. The real golden age was when my father was young.”
It wasn’t difficult to deduce the meaning of those words.
‘They had a knight-level force.’
It couldn’t have been a common thing.
But it was because of that knight-level force that the house of Baisar would have become a Marquis’s house.
Perhaps the reason for the regret Marquis Baisar was showing now was because of the death of that knight?
It was purely a hunch, but he had hit the nail on the head.
Of course, Enkrid himself, who had made the deduction, hadn’t thought about it deeply.
And there was no one besides Krais who could have seen into Enkrid’s inner thoughts.
And if Krais had been here, he would have been extremely frustrated.
“Why do you stop using that good head of yours halfway? Huh? You have to use it to the end, take what you can, and prepare for what you must.”
Of course, if Krais had said that, Enkrid would have serenely retorted like this.
“That’s what you’re here for.”
It wasn’t wrong, so Krais’ mouth would have shut.
Drip, drip.
It was a walk back from the residence, getting hit by the falling raindrops.
“Please take the carriage.”
A servant approached and said.
“It’s fine.”
Enkrid refused and continued his thoughts as he walked.
The house of the Marquis has its pain.
In reality, who doesn’t?
Those who live on the continent always have war, monsters, and beasts by their side.
‘The end of an era and the end of war.’
It was the song the residents of the Demon Realm had sung before.
Enkrid hummed the song as he walked back to the training grounds.
Though it was past noon, the sky was dark.
It was a cloudy day.
“So busy, so busy. You didn’t go to meet a woman, did you?”
Aishia greeted him as he entered the training grounds.
“Please grant me a lesson, Commander Enkrid.”
Aishia continued, bantering.
Enkrid nodded.
His arms were more or less fine now.
It wasn’t a life-or-death battle, so a sparring match wouldn’t be too much.
“A woman? Hmm, is that the scent of an old man and a woman?”
Shinar, who was sitting on a chair in a corner of the training ground, looking as if she had recovered a bit, said while pretending to sniff the air.
“Yes, we know you went to the Marquis’s residence.”
Ropord said from a corner of the training grounds.
The elf with keen ears heard that and looked at him with indifferent eyes.
That was a glare.
“Useless weed.”
And that was an insult.
Ropord heard it and mostly ignored it.
Fel, hearing that, issued a challenge to Ropord.
“Hey, weed, come at me.”
“Who are you calling a weed?”
“If an useless plant is a weed, is it grass?”
The pouring rain was still the same.
A thin but long and seemingly endless rain.
It was a humid day where sweat would flow on its own even if one stood still.
Even on a day like this, be it the knight order or the Royal Guard, everyone was engrossed in training.
In the time when he used to swing his sword alone, everyone was now together.
“You shouldn’t overexert yourself yet.”
Audin said, standing by Shinar’s side.
Enkrid replied as if it were nothing.
“Aishia is a Junior Knight. There will be no overexertion.”
He meant that a light sparring match would be fine.
Sometimes, a simple fact can become an act of violence.
Grit.
Aishia clenched her jaw tightly.
The resolve etched on her face, with its jaw muscles showing, looked truly fierce.
***
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***
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[SHOP BEST BUY] – 50e – Every chapter translated – Latest WN-959 + daily chapters from monday to friday for a month.
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I welcome you to join our discord https://discord.gg/RY7BbJpeAZ
**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST CHAPTER HERE ON WEBNOVEL**
Chapter 806 – Sparring, Calamity, Consideration
“There’s no need to provoke me into doing my best.”
Aishia spat the words through her tightly clenched teeth.
“…Provoke?”
Enkrid drew the sword commonly known by the nickname, Dawn.
The forged blade shed a sky-blue light, as if unbothered by all the battles it had been through.
‘The method of washing with fire.’
Aetri had said that if possible, it was good to heat it once before oiling.
Following those words, he had gone to the royal blacksmith as soon as he arrived, heated it once, and then spread on the seed oil he had brought from the east.
“It is like seeing a beautiful woman who has hidden her beauty with coarseness.”
It meant that though the structure was simple, the devotion contained within was no ordinary thing.
There were many master craftsmen in the royal family.
That was a remark from one of them.
Well, another person had said something different.
“No, this isn’t hidden, it’s revealed. It looks simple, but it has elegant lines.”
“And those elegant lines are hidden by the coarseness.”
“No, look at the leather wrapped around the grip. And he mixed the metals. This, as it is, is a work of art.”
“Art, my foot. A sword is a tool, a weapon for killing. It is faithful to that.”
“It is art because it is faithful to that!”
“You crazy art-lover!”
“Your pragmatism is nonsense!”
Enkrid had watched three master craftsmen fighting in the royal blacksmith.
These three were the most skilled craftsmen in Naurillia.
They had fought, offering all sorts of opinions about Dawn.
To Enkrid, it didn’t look bad.
They fought while asserting their own claims, but they would not ignore each other’s opinions.
‘One must acknowledge to have a next step.’
They knew that too.
Right now, veins were popping on their foreheads and their faces were red from all the blood rushing to their heads, but once they cooled down, they would expand their thoughts in various directions.
‘All sorts of opinions are bound to be attached to an overly outstanding technique.’
For example, how many theories had been produced by later generations regarding the five concepts of swordsmanship established by Leonesis Oniac?
Among them, some were recognized and some were weeded out.
And again, some of those developed and opened new paths.
The concept of the Artful Sword was like that.
It didn’t belong to Static, Centered, Circular, Fast, or Flowing, but had pioneered its own path.
It referred to a sword style that, above the concepts of heaviness, righteousness, deception, speed, and gentleness, focused solely on technique.
‘Eastern-style Artful Sword.’
The Artful Sword was an acrobatic sword style that was once nicknamed Eastern-style because it was mainly used by warriors from the east.
In the same vein, it was said that the south had been skilled in the Illusory Sword for generations, but that had now become a groundless rumor that was difficult to give meaning to.
‘A knight mixes and uses all five sword styles.’
It was right to focus on one while also tending to the others.
The Artful Sword was very peculiar in that respect.
It was a technique that had once even been nicknamed the ‘suicide sword’.
He didn’t know the origin of the technique, but seeing the results, he felt he could roughly guess its source.
‘The shepherd’s technique.’
Traces of the Artful Sword were sometimes glimpsed from Fel.
The Eastern-style Artful Sword must have come from the shepherds of the wilderness.
It was a guess, but his intuition told him this was the answer.
And even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t a problem.
It was just an idle thought about swords.
In any case, the three craftsmen had fought because Dawn was so excellent.
And now, that sword was aimed at his comrade.
It was a spar between a knight and a Junior Knight.
There was no need for wooden swords.
“Yes, you provoked me.”
Aishia said again, extending her sword.
Should he say she was the same as ever?
Her sword contained a strange presence.
Should he say it was a mix of pressure and sword?
Beelrog had fought while scattering pressure, and Aishia tried to refine and project that pressure.
Because she hadn’t become a knight, she couldn’t use it on a subconscious level, but just looking at that presence, it was not ordinary.
‘Like Roman.’
Just as he had once mimicked a knight’s blow, Aishia too had found her own path.
“It wasn’t a provocation. It’s a fact.”
Enkrid replied with a nonchalant attitude, and Aishia’s gentle-looking eyes began to emit a dangerous light.
“Oh, verbal assault.”
Rem admired from behind.
That kind of provocation was worth learning, so he was replaying it in his mind several times.
The training soldiers gathered around one by one, forming a circle.
Among them were Rem, Audin, Shinar, Ropord, and Fel.
Jaxen had, at some point, brought a chair to one side of a pillar and was sitting there.
He sat there carving a piece of wood with a single dagger, his gaze thrown forward.
Even though he was only looking forward, the dagger moved, and the wood was neatly shaved, with thin pieces cut by the blade falling below.
Only Ragna was swinging his sword on the side as if it had nothing to do with him.
To an unknowing eye, it might look like he was swinging listlessly, but to those who knew his genius, it would look different.
“That clueless bastard is over there playing with his stick again.”
Of course, that was what Rem said.
Aishia closed her senses to the onlookers.
She shut them out.
She focused solely on the opponent standing before her.
‘The opponent is a knight.’
If things went slightly wrong, not only would she lose, she wouldn’t even be able to put up a proper fight.
She hated that.
She too had gone through bone-grinding training.
“Don’t you think that’s enough now?”
Her brother had asked in a fed-up tone, but she hadn’t been satisfied.
And it had also been fun.
Only after the skin on her palms had burst several times did she remember the reason she had swung her sword day and night in her childhood.
‘Because it’s fun.’
If it wasn’t fun, she wouldn’t have been able to swing her sword like that.
‘The best possible blow.’
Her gentle-looking eyes narrowed.
Aishia’s sword, having gathered her concentration, moved.
‘Detainment.’
She unleashed everything she had.
She did just that.
From the falling sword, Enkrid read the form of pressure that entangled and bound the limbs in strands.
He could have been a little surprised, but it felt strangely natural.
Enkrid’s intuition was far superior to that of an ordinary knight.
‘Aishia always did enjoy using pressure.’
He remembered when he had first seen her.
“Me? Aishia.”
She had shown him a pressure that was like an formless sword slitting his own throat.
Even when they had fought later, she had used a sword style derived from that.
She had made him see the tip of her sword as a point, restricting his movements.
Now, she had developed even further.
From the blade falling above his head, the will to bind his entire body was clear.
She had developed the specialty she originally possessed.
‘A sword imbued with the will of pressure.’
Though he couldn’t say it was stronger than Beelrog’s.
‘The direction is correct.’
CLANG!
Enkrid, having no need for the Fortress of Rejection, shook off Aishia’s sword style with his will alone and struck her sword.
The pouring rain scattered in all directions, centering on the two of them.
Aishia did not give up just because her blow was blocked.
Thinking she was still far from done, she pulled back her sword and moved her feet.
It was the moment just before Aishia changed the direction of her feet and simultaneously thrust, mixing in a feint.
Enkrid read every possible attack point Aishia was attempting.
‘Five.’
To be precise, there were five possibilities for where the sword could come from.
All of them were read in the realm of his insight.
‘Extinguishing Embers.’
Enkrid’s left foot tapped the back of Aishia’s right knee.
With that, all possibilities of attack were broken.
Aishia pulled back the leg that was hit and struck with her sword again.
The attack points momentarily increased and changed.
To be precise, she tried to slash her sword vertically, from top to bottom.
It was a movement already completed in her mind’s eye, but in reality, she could not.
Slice.
This time, the inside of her elbow was cut.
Dawn, which had closed in at some point, grazed past with a light touch.
Her protective gear was shaved off, and the leather, as if it were a sheet of paper, got wet in the rain and fell to the ground.
Aishia did not give up, and Enkrid showed no mercy.
Every single attack was repeatedly broken and torn apart.
“He’s relentless.”
Rem said.
At some point, Ragna too had stopped swinging his sword and was watching.
“He doesn’t allow it to even begin.”
Ragna also added a word.
Those with discerning eyes all understood the current situation.
On the other hand, to those without such eyes, it would look like the trick of an acrobat.
One side would swing their sword and stop, and the other would just push with their foot or sword, showing only light movements, but all their movements matched as if they had been choreographed.
“Hm.”
Among the spectators was Rierban.
Though his insight was not at a knight’s level, he believed that Enkrid was not someone who did things without reason.
No, it wasn’t just belief, it was blind faith.
If an Enkrid religion were to form right now, he was more than willing to become a follower immediately.
That was why he pondered whether there was some meaning within it, and that became a good study for Rierban.
There were others like Rierban for whom the sparring match itself became a study.
They were those who were prepared because they hadn’t neglected their training, and those who had the resolve and desire to learn anything without prejudice.
The sparring match was not long.
Aishia couldn’t land any proper attacks, and Enkrid didn’t even swing Dawn properly.
“Damn it.”
As soon as the exchange stopped and the two retreated, Aishia’s mouth opened.
She bowed her head, her shoulders trembling.
To the eyes of an ordinary soldier, a Junior Knight is a monster.
But Knights were beings who were beyond even the category of such monsters.
They could not be standardized.
That is what a knight was.
‘A calamity.’
It wasn’t for nothing that such a word was attached to them.
Watching her trembling shoulders, some thought that Aishia was shedding tears.
That she couldn’t hold it back because she was so frustrated.
That’s what they thought.
Enkrid knew all too well that was not the case.
When Aishia lifted her head, her gentle-looking eyes were the same as before, but the will contained within them was all too clear.
“I won’t give up either.”
Were those words steeped in resolve?
They sounded more like the words of one who was enjoying the present.
“Right. From now on, if you miss, you die. You could lose an arm.”
Enkrid said nonchalantly and moved.
From a stance where he had yielded the first move, he boldly struck out first.
Aishia’s sword rose diagonally and met the blade of Dawn.
CLANG.
The two pieces of metal expressed their joy at meeting.
After that, the two didn’t exchange words.
Aishia couldn’t because she was struggling to even catch her breath, and Enkrid didn’t open his mouth because there was no need.
Aishia felt as if she had run into an impossible wall.
She couldn’t control the distance as she pleased, yet it felt as if Enkrid’s sword could pierce her neck at any moment.
To survive all those threats, all she could do was struggle with all her might.
She did just that.
She held on, her fingers just barely hooked onto the edge of a cliff.
Her abs ached and her forearms felt like they would snap.
The sparring match continued for half a day.
“Why are you guys always fighting every time I come?”
Marcus, who appeared later, asked in a monologue and then immediately nodded to himself.
“Well, hm, this is how they normally are.”
Why else would the band of mad knights be called mad?
“Uh, hng, ugh.”
Aishia eventually collapsed from exhaustion, and a few soldiers she was acquainted with supported her and retreated.
“You sure know how to knock down a woman every time.”
There was Shinar’s trivial joke upon seeing that.
The departing Aishia gave Enkrid a nod.
One of her arms was slung over the shoulder of a soldier she was close with.
It was a gaze mixed with gratitude and several other emotions.
Enkrid, who nodded back, fell into a short contemplation.
‘Is it possible?’
He had seen, opened, and helped Aishia’s potential.
But he couldn’t guarantee that she would become a knight.
‘I see now how lucky Ropord and Fel were.’
Looking at Roman and then at Aishia, he understood.
He couldn’t hastily predict the future of those two.
He could probably raise them to a higher level of Junior Knight.
Considering that there are skill differences even among Junior Knights.
‘If it’s at least at the level of Lord Graham.’
Couldn’t he literally grab them by the scruff of the neck and drag them up, even if by force?
At least the possibility was far higher than becoming a knight.
But beyond that?
‘I don’t know.’
He had opened a path for Roman as well, but he might remain in that place for the rest of his life, and just because a path is made doesn’t mean one will necessarily walk it.
It was the same for Aishia.
Becoming a knight was originally such an arduous process.
“Enki, I need to ask you to escort His Majesty tomorrow.”
Marcus, who had approached, said.
It was just as the rain that had been pattering down stopped.
“Me?”
“It was Aishia’s job, but in that state, it looks like she’ll have a hard time being okay tomorrow, don’t you think?”
That was right.
It was because he had fought with consideration.
He had pushed her so that she could learn and rise up even a little.
Thanks to that, there probably wasn’t a spot on her arms and legs that was fine.
That was Enkrid’s brand of consideration.
A sparring match that pushed the opponent to the next step, rather than one that left them unscathed.
“I’ll do it.”
There was no reason to refuse, so Enkrid nodded.
And the escort that Marcus had requested was regarding Krang’s inspection of the capital city.
In other words, the king was going to look around the capital.
He does not postpone his duties just because of a seditious movement or an undercurrent.
That was likely the will that Krang possessed.
“I would also like to spar.”
Rierban, who had been watching, said, mustering his courage.
After him, others who had gained some sort of epiphany lined up.
“If Big-eyes was here, he would have charged a few gold pieces per sparring match.”
Rem said with a chuckle.
And then he turned his eyes toward those who hadn’t noticed anything in the sparring match just now.
“You all, come here. Your mental fortitude is lacking.”
What kind of insight was it that couldn’t recognize a good thing even when it was shown to them?
Following that, wails echoed from the training grounds.
***
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**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST CHAPTER HERE ON WEBNOVEL**
***
If you enjoy the series and want to get more chapters early, head over to https://payhip.com/Samowek
[SHOP BEST BUY] – 50e – Every chapter translated – Latest WN-959 + daily chapters from monday to friday for a month.
-KNIGHT – Cost 20e – Chapters 894-959 + daily chapters from Monday to Friday for a month
I welcome you to join our discord https://discord.gg/RY7BbJpeAZ
**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST CHAPTER HERE ON WEBNOVEL**