A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 268: Imitating Kraiss

"You're leaving me behind? If that's the case, step over me first!"

Rem's dramatic declaration prompted Enkrid to move instantly. He stepped forward with his left foot, pushing his body smoothly forward.

For a moment, it looked as if he had vanished.

Of course, no one in the room truly lost sight of him.

But...

‘That footwork?’

Jaxon, observing closely, was slightly startled.

‘Snake Step?’

Audin seemed to notice as well.

Enkrid had blended their techniques into his own, digesting them and making them uniquely his.

What was swordsmanship? And what was the essence of a blade?

These questions had driven Enkrid through a continuous cycle of revelations, leading him to create a style that incorporated full-body movements—including footwork.

In fact, whether it was swordsmanship, dance, or martial arts, footwork was fundamental. Footwork often accounted for more than half of any physical discipline.

Naturally, Enkrid had paid as much attention to his steps as he did to his swordsmanship.

The results were evident.

His left knee bent and straightened smoothly, pushing him forward with a controlled burst of power—reminiscent of Jaxon’s silent steps. His right leg followed with a serpentine twist, mimicking the Snake Step Audin had taught him.

In truth, he had merged the two styles haphazardly, making them seem entirely new to an untrained observer.

As he feigned stepping over Rem, the barbarian snorted and rolled his body sideways, spinning away.

Enkrid stomped the ground with his right foot, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Aren’t you supposed to let me step on you in situations like this?"

"Who said I’d let you? Want to learn how I dodged? It’s a secret technique called the 'Unstompable Dung Beetle.'"

It was painfully obvious he had made it up on the spot.

"No thanks," Enkrid replied, dismissing the offer.

Despite Rem’s exaggerated antics, it was clear they couldn’t bring him along. Just because the village they were heading to was tied to the powder didn’t mean they could march in with an army and start tearing it apart.

"I know I told you to crush them, but keep in mind we’re part of the kingdom. You know what that means, right? Our actions are already under scrutiny," Marcus had warned.

The political landscape was tense. Count Molsen, in particular, was constantly scheming.

And it wasn’t just Molsen. Other nobles had their eyes on the region, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any misstep.

During Enkrid’s absence in Martai, one noble had even defected.

"He’s probably looking for another noble to take him in. He’ll sell our secrets to get a quick reward. Idiot," Marcus had spat, seething with disdain.

But according to Kraiss, there was more to it.

"Apparently, someone gave him a proper beating before he left. Nobles who don’t handle things well end up getting smacked around, no matter their status," Kraiss had said, shrugging.

Some fled because they were caught cutting corners, while others escaped to avoid the relentless demands placed on them.

Marcus, Kraiss speculated, might have even hoped for such outcomes.

"If I know Marcus, he probably wanted all the nobles to leave. Sure, he claimed it was to replace them with loyal personnel, but who knows? Maybe he’s biting off more than he can chew."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Kraiss had replied, his worry evident.

Enkrid didn’t press further. The matter at hand took precedence.

The village’s culpability had to be proven first.

Even if the Black Blade had sent assassins and hired swords to intercept them, Enkrid couldn’t act recklessly. Proof was needed—if not real, then fabricated.

More importantly, as Marcus had pointed out:

"There are bound to be innocent people in the village."

It was a fair point. A blanket punishment for the entire village wasn’t justifiable. Some might not even know they were producing illegal substances.

Thus, Enkrid decided:

"It’ll just be me, Captain Shinar, Finn, and Jaxon."

A small infiltration team would be sent to gather information. Captain Shinar, having spent nearly a year investigating this, would lead the operation.

"Nearly a year, and you only found one village? Were you gambling away your time at some dice table?" Kraiss had quipped, raising an eyebrow.

The idea of the Pixie Captain gambling was absurd, but Kraiss’s skepticism wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

If travelers passing through had learned of the village, it shouldn’t have taken this long to uncover its location.

"Maybe they’re good in a fight but lousy at tracking. That’s probably why Finn was brought in," Kraiss mused.

"Are you defending your fiancée?" Enkrid asked.

The question earned a flustered response, but Enkrid quickly moved on.

Audin had taught him many techniques, including ways to inflict pain without causing permanent damage. Enkrid decided to demonstrate one such move on Kraiss, grabbing his arm and locking it in a joint hold.

With a sharp pull, the sound of a pop echoed.

"Does that hurt?"

"Ahhh! It’s going to break!" Kraiss howled.

Enkrid let go, his tone indifferent.

"Maybe I should’ve just cut it off."

Kraiss bolted, but Enkrid didn’t chase him. It had been a joke, though he regretted it immediately.

‘I’m acting like Rem,’ he thought, shaking his head.

Pushing the thought aside, he turned to see Ragna standing nearby.

"Why can’t I come with you?" Ragna asked, crunching on an apple.

Behind him, Audin and Teresa stood as well.

The reasons were obvious. Both Audin and Teresa were too conspicuous, their imposing figures ill-suited for stealth.

Ragna, meanwhile, had another problem.

"If things go south, we’ll need to scatter and regroup. Can you guarantee you’d make it to the rendezvous?"

Ragna, oblivious to his terrible sense of direction, didn’t respond.

"Besides, there’s no need for your sword this time," Enkrid added, patting Ragna on the shoulder.

Ragna, though slightly disappointed, didn’t argue.

Enkrid knew they weren’t trying to interfere; they were simply showing concern for his absence.

‘What would happen if I weren’t here?’

The thought crossed his mind but was quickly dismissed.

As for Rem, he remained in his corner, wrapped in layers of heated fur and clutching a warming stone, loudly proclaiming:

"I’m going rogue! Starting today, I’m going astray! Wahhh!"

Despite clearly being too warm, Rem’s stubbornness knew no bounds. His insistence on joining was baffling but easily ignored.

Enkrid turned his focus to preparing for the mission.

He checked his weapons—two swords, six throwing daggers retrieved from the assassins, and a few vials of poison.

Though unfamiliar with the proper use of poison, Enkrid opted to discard it. Jaxon, however, took everything for himself.

With their gear ready, the team gathered in Captain Shinar’s quarters for a briefing.

Shinar planned to station part of her unit nearby—two platoons positioned just far enough to avoid detection.

The team couldn’t wait indefinitely, though. Winter monsters and beasts were becoming more active, and prolonged exposure to the elements would attract attention.

"Two days should be enough to figure things out once we’re inside," Shinar said, spreading a map across the table.

"If not, we’ll withdraw and regroup," Finn added, her presence a reminder of her sharp wit and charm.

"Still spreading your allure wherever you go, I see," someone remarked, earning a laugh.

The departure was set for dawn. Shinar would lead the operation, and Enkrid had no objections.

As he left, Shinar called after him, "Your fiancée can stay here tonight."

Ignoring the comment, Enkrid walked out, the sound of Finn’s laughter following him.

‘What’s so funny about that?’ he wondered, shaking his head.

Enkrid couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought about it. Jaxon, noticing the brief smile, spoke up.

"That Pixie...," Jaxon began.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you should just go along with her for once."

Was he joking? Or was he serious?

Enkrid didn’t bother asking. Jaxon, seemingly realizing what he had said, quickly brushed it off, turning his head and muttering, "Forget I said anything."

Still, Enkrid found it strange. This wasn’t like Jaxon, who normally kept his thoughts to himself.

Was something bothering him?

For Jaxon to blurt out a thought, distracted enough to lose control of his own tongue—it wasn’t normal.

Looking closer, Jaxon’s expression seemed heavier than usual, something Enkrid could only sense after spending so much time together. His finely tuned instincts, honed through combat and training, picked up on the subtle shift.

To anyone else, Jaxon’s face might have seemed as stoic as ever. But to Enkrid, it was clear:

‘His focus is scattered.’

Not enough to affect his immediate tasks, but it was as if Jaxon’s attention was elsewhere—like he was gazing past the horizon, searching for something beyond the immediate landscape.

Yet, there was also a sharp, cutting aura about him, like someone steeling themselves for something significant.

‘What is he preparing for?’

Was it just the mission? Did he dislike the idea of dealing with the powders?

That didn’t seem likely. Jaxon had always been pragmatic about alchemical tools, even if he didn’t use them himself. He didn’t smoke, drink, or take substances, but he often helped Kraiss sort and identify them.

No, it had to be something else.

Enkrid didn’t ask. It felt like the kind of thing Jaxon wouldn’t answer anyway. And even if he did, what would change?

As they continued, Enkrid spotted Esther nearby, standing with the wild horse.

The horse neighed at him, as if asking, Where have you been?

Enkrid smirked. "That’s my line, odd eyes."

He still hadn’t settled on a proper name for the horse and had been calling it whatever came to mind.

The horse snorted, clearly offended.

Next to it, Esther let out a soft growl-like sound, as if amused by the exchange.

"I’m heading out on a mission," Enkrid told her. "I’ll be gone for about a week."

Esther tapped her paw on the ground, pointing to herself and then to him, signaling her intention to join.

"Alright," Enkrid said with a nod.

The black leopard was adept at stealth, and after their time apart, it seemed like she had grown irritated with being left behind.

Even so, Enkrid occasionally found it strange that Esther could transform into a woman with long black hair and striking blue eyes.

Despite seeing it happen with his own eyes, it was hard to think of her as anything but a leopard.

The wild horse snorted again.

"Take it easy, odd eyes," Enkrid said.

The horse neighed in irritation, clearly understanding part of what he said and disliking the nickname.

When it stomped its hoof in protest, Enkrid tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You don’t like the name?"

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The horse nodded.

After a brief pause, Enkrid shrugged and said, "Fine. How about Bul-gul?"

The name, which could be translated as "Unyielding" or "Steel Will" in the eastern dialect, seemed to strike a chord.

Esther gave Enkrid a curious look, as if surprised he knew such a term.

While many thought of Enkrid as someone obsessed with swords and battle, he had a surprising fondness for ancient tales and knightly legends. He would often pay storytellers a few silver coins to hear their tales, and in doing so, he’d picked up a wealth of knowledge.

"Still, with those mismatched eyes, ‘Odd Eyes’ suits you better," Enkrid said, smirking.

The horse neighed loudly in protest, stomping the ground again. Enkrid, however, didn’t seem to care much about the name.

The next morning, the group departed at dawn, leaving the estate behind.

"I’ll lead the way," Finn said, taking point.

Following Meelun’s directions, they walked for two days straight. Eventually, the village he’d described came into view.

Their plan was simple: pose as wandering merchants.

Enkrid and Shinar would act as guards, Finn as an assistant, and Jaxon as the merchant.

"Will this work?" Finn asked, voicing her concerns.

It didn’t take long for Jaxon to prove her wrong.

The moment they entered the village, his demeanor shifted completely.

"What a fine village this is! Can you tell me where I might trade goods here? Surely there must be a market for fine wares in such a prosperous place!"

Even Enkrid, who had seen Jaxon’s adaptability, was momentarily taken aback by how convincingly he transformed.

Jaxon turned back to them with an exaggerated smile and continued his act.

"Can’t you tell just by looking? See how the people here look healthy and well-fed? Not a single gaunt face among them! That must mean this is a wealthy and generous village, perfect for trade! Don’t you agree?"

As he spoke, he clapped Enkrid on the shoulder in an overly familiar manner, his gestures bold and his tone cheerful.

It was a performance perfected to draw attention and lower suspicion—an endless stream of chatter, what Kraiss would have called "the magic of a silver tongue."

Enkrid watched in awe as Jaxon mimicked Kraiss’s style flawlessly.