A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 427: The King’s True Intentions

As far as Enkrid knew, Kraiss was not the type to cling to lost causes.

“You’re not needed.”

At the mercenary king’s words, Kraiss quickly gave up on trying to impress him.

“Yes, I see!”

It wasn’t as if he had truly planned on following him anyway.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have changed his stance so quickly.

“A guest arrives, and yet you bring no gifts?”

Instead of trying to win over the king, Kraiss set his sights on his gold.

Enkrid had also heard the rumors while traveling across the continent—that the East had warehouses overflowing with gold.

There were even stories of a coalition of thief guilds attempting to infiltrate, only for not a single one to make it out alive.

Enkrid had always taken those rumors lightly.

‘Gold, huh.’

There was probably a lot of it.

That was the extent of his thoughts on the matter.

He didn’t particularly need that kind of wealth, so why bother looking into it?

Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon were the same.

The Mad Platoon had no lingering attachments to króna.

But Kraiss was different.

His eyes glowed with an eerie light.

Like the spirit of a man who had been betrayed by a sworn lover, trapped in the ruins of his home for a hundred years, with only his obsession remaining.

The heat in Kraiss’s gaze as he spoke of gold was almost maddening.

Enkrid simply thought that he had picked the wrong target.

“A gift? What, do you want Eastern gold or something?”

“That would be nice.”

“No.”

“The King of the East is said to have a heart as vast as the ocean. How can you be so stingy?”

“I’m not a generous man.”

“You are the King of the East. Does this meeting mean nothing to you?”

“I can’t hear you.”

Enkrid had never considered the King of the East particularly eloquent. But in terms of pulling others into his pace, he had an undeniable talent.

Kraiss didn’t get angry. He didn’t grit his teeth.

He simply continued speaking in the same tone, with the same smile.

“Is that so? Then I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

From a distance, it might have looked like a friendly conversation.

The king merely laughed and nodded.

For a brief moment, Enkrid was concerned.

If Kraiss ended up getting hit even once, he might not live to see the next day.

“Are you sure about this?”

So, as Kraiss emerged from his meeting with the king, Enkrid asked him.

Kraiss, with his back turned to the king, merely mouthed his response.

‘What a petty bastard. Shouldn’t we just kick him out?’

Kicking him out wouldn’t change anything—he wouldn’t leave anyway.

Besides, Enkrid still had much to learn. The king was a useful teacher.

“You do know who you’re dealing with, right?”

When he asked again, Kraiss frowned but nodded.

“Yes.”

“And you still want to ask for gold?”

“Yes.”

Enkrid stared at him, silently asking why.

Kraiss shrugged and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“He’s the King of the East. Do you really think someone like that would just kill a man over this? More importantly, he came here because he’s desperate to recruit talent. He’d rather leave a good impression than a bad one. There’s no way he’ll resort to violence. And besides, do you know where Eastern gold comes from? The iron of Rewis Mountain? Eastern. The black steel of Ubel Mountain? Also Eastern. Would you really let an opportunity like this slip away?”

The first thing he said was meant to put Enkrid at ease.

He had noticed the concern in Enkrid’s expression and had chosen to address that first.

But the fire in his eyes spoke of only one conclusion.

Gold.

Would he fold in the face of immediate danger just for the sake of gold?

No, Kraiss wasn’t that foolish.

A knight wouldn’t kill a man who made a reasonable request.

And the King of the East wouldn’t act recklessly.

He and his lieutenant had arrived here alone, without a grand escort, showing their lack of pretense.

He had repeatedly dueled with their captain, even offering lessons.

Adding all this up, Kraiss had clearly analyzed the king’s personality before making his move.

That was just the kind of man Kraiss was.

“But, Captain.”

The golden glint in Kraiss’s eyes dimmed slightly as he turned to Enkrid.

“What?”

Enkrid had just finished his hundredth downward strike, wiping the sweat from his chin with the back of his hand as he answered.

“You’re not going, are you?”

The King of the East wasn’t hiding his intentions.

And yet, there was nothing unlikable about him.

He was openly trying to take all of them back to the East.

Yet, strangely enough, he had never once made that offer to Enkrid himself.

Starting with Rem, then Ragna, then Dunbakel, Audin, and even Teresa—he had made his offers to all of them.

But not to Enkrid.

The first time they met, he had said something similar, but since then, he hadn’t brought it up even once.

Was it a matter of pride?

Did he not want to repeat himself?

That wasn’t it.

The king was the type to tirelessly repeat his words over and over again.

It was only Enkrid he didn’t say it to.

Instead, he simply sparred with him and offered small pieces of advice.

If he were to ask now?

Enkrid already knew the answer.

“I’m not going.”

The words were spoken simply because the decision had already been made.

Kraiss let out a subtle sigh of relief, though a hint of unease still lingered.

‘If Captain leaves, will the five border cities still hold?’

Kraiss had subtly urged the expansion of fortress walls in every city where Enkrid held command.

He had also spread certain rumors through the traveling merchants.

It had all been a calculated move.

By making the five cities feel like a single entity, he ensured that everyone would recognize a singular ruler—a new lord.

At the same time, he encouraged each city’s lords and merchants to invest in securing trade routes.

‘The movement of króna has changed dramatically.’

All of this was only possible because of a single focal point: Enkrid.

Kraiss was among the few who understood what his captain truly wanted.

A knight.

A knight worthy of the songs sung in heroic ballads.

What he sought was chivalry.

Honor and integrity.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He was a man who would uphold those values as he moved forward.

‘So, would the East appeal to him?’

Through Kraiss’s eyes, the King of the East was overflowing with charisma—so much so that it practically burst forth like a fountain.

Even though his attention was solely on this battalion, there were already those watching from afar.

Among them were mercenaries who had once made names for themselves but now served the Border Guard.

Even a few swordsmen who had previously been knights sworn to nobles were showing interest in the king.

Kraiss had also seen the urgent letter that arrived a few days ago.

What had been written inside?

It had been sealed for Enkrid’s eyes only.

Kraiss hadn’t asked about its contents.

But if Krang knew the current situation, it was clear that the letter had promised many things.

Kraiss had a habit of imagining the worst-case scenarios.

And so, deep in thought, he stepped out of the training grounds.

***

Rem spun his axe in his grip, watching the table he had just carved.

The light axe twirled over his fingers, tracing strange patterns through the air.

“Are you doing that because it’s fun?”

The King of the East approached, his guards trailing closely behind.

“It’s a process to familiarize my hands with the axe.”

Spinning the axe and carving furniture were done for the same reason.

Even though the one asking was a monster over a hundred years old, Rem didn’t bother turning his head.

It didn’t matter whether the man was the King of the East or anyone else—Rem had never cared for such things.

“You’re a man without greed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just seem that way.”

“I have plenty of greed.”

Rem was honest.

The King of the East shook his head.

“If that were true, why don’t you follow me?”

If one wanted gold, he would grant gold.

If one wanted women, they would claim them for themselves.

If one sought worthy opponents, he would provide them.

And yet, Rem wanted nothing. That was how he seemed in the king’s eyes.

“Shall we go on a hunt together?”

The king made the suggestion, though his intentions were unclear.

“Well, why not?”

Rem shrugged without much thought.

His body was itching for action anyway.

While Enkrid spent his time sparring with the crazy old man in front of him, Rem had been refining some of his techniques as well.

It was based on a small realization.

After killing the Undying Madman, Rem had used some of his tools to cast other people’s sorcery.

‘I thought my body would break down or that I’d suffer a severe curse.’

But nothing of the sort happened.

The side effects were minimal, far less than expected. It wasn’t just a matter of natural limits.

‘Did my body change?’

He would still go west, but it was only natural to properly understand his own condition first.

That was why he had been carving chairs and tables with his axe—refining his control.

Now, it was time to let loose.

He needed to swing his axe against real monsters and beasts.

Until now, he had focused on fine-tuning his senses. Now, he needed to unleash what he had gained.

“Alright, let’s go!”

At the king’s boisterous shout, Dunbakel, who had been watching from the side, raised her head.

She saw the mad axeman standing beside the King of the East, clearly in agreement with him.

‘That bastard... is he really going to go with him?’

If he fit in with that man, it wasn’t impossible.

And if that happened, she would lose the one person who regularly beat her into shape.

‘And without that, it’ll be much harder to grow stronger.’

She didn’t exactly enjoy getting beaten down by Rem, but one thing was undeniable—the more he tormented her, the stronger she became.

Dunbakel’s gaze shifted to Enkrid.

He seemed completely unbothered.

As always.

***

A normal noble’s hunt and a hunt with the King of the East were entirely different things.

Especially when your hunting partner was Rem.

Neither of them had any intention of chasing down nimble little deer.

“The mountain range behind us is Pen-Hanil. You ever been there?”

“When I used to roam this continent, it was my playground.”

“Sure it was.”

“Of course it was.”

The two exchanged banter.

Asaluhi thought that his king had taken quite a liking to this man.

And conversely, Rem wasn’t exactly rejecting the king’s company either.

The way they joked around made them seem like old friends.

The three of them headed toward the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

At the entrance stood an outpost that Kraiss had deliberately built.

It was three times the size of the other outposts—practically a small town on its own.

It was constructed solely to block the monsters and beasts that descended from the mountains.

After all, securing a safe route here required constant suppression of the creatures emerging from Pen-Hanil.

Left unchecked, the place would once again be infested with gray ghouls, bloodsucking flies, and troll brothers—the same monsters Enkrid and his unit had wiped out before.

However, establishing the outpost came with its own set of problems.

Rem took one look at the mountain’s terrain and knew—blocking off the monsters this way would only cause trouble later.

The inner parts of the range provided ample places for creatures to huddle together and hide.

If the beasts started avoiding the outpost, they would gather into colonies instead.

Eventually, when they surged out, they could number in the hundreds.

“This won’t solve the problem. This is just setting up a massacre for later.”

The King of the East realized it as well.

Clearly, he wasn’t just some brute who only knew how to fight.

He could read the land just as well as Rem.

“What are you staring at? Didn’t I tell you? This place was my playground once.”

Half of that statement was bravado.

Rem knew that much.

Pen-Hanil was still a place filled with unknown secrets.

It was ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) a fool’s first choice when treasure hunters sought quick fortune.

No place like that could ever truly be a "playground."

But—

“You’re not bad at this.”

It was an ability worth acknowledging.

“Of course.”

For a king, he was oddly down-to-earth.

And strangely enough, Rem liked that.

The two of them entered the mountain range.

By controlling the monster population with the outpost, they had created an unintended problem—the creatures inside had grown wary and started forming colonies.

Kraiss knew this too.

But he had decided that it was easier to let the Mad Platoon periodically wipe them out rather than trying to manage them continuously.

Rather than saying, “Monsters may jump out at any time, but you’ll be fine!”

It was better to say, “You won’t see any monsters, but we always have soldiers standing guard just in case.”

For the merchants and travelers passing through, those two statements meant vastly different things.

If they could secure a safe passage through the Pen-Hanil mountains, they would create the fastest shortcut to the trade routes.

For that reason, the moment they stepped inside, they immediately spotted a monster nest.

More than thirty trolls.

The entrance was covered with tangled vines and leaves.

There was a faint scent of crude sorcery.

Some monsters were born with an innate ability for magic or supernatural power.

This particular troll colony seemed to have such a creature among them.

“This is the place.”

“This is it.”

The two exchanged glances.

They were completely in sync.

Kruooohh.

A troll caught the scent of humans and poked its head out.

“How’s it going?”

Rem asked before immediately lunging forward with his axe.

A downward strike.

His blade cleaved through the troll’s skull as cleanly as slicing through soft meat.

Even as its head split in two, the troll swung its massive left hand.

Rem brought up his other axe and severed the wrist.

Another troll lifted its head nearby.

A hulking, deep-green creature covered in grotesque lumps, towering over a man, its jagged teeth bared.

The King of the East grinned at the sight.

“This is going to be a fun hunt.”

Thirty trolls would be a serious threat, even to a seasoned knight.

And with a sorcery-wielding one among them, they were an even bigger danger.

But not for these two.

The king drew his weapon—not his jambiya, but the long spear his lieutenant, Asaluhi, had been carrying.

The moment Asaluhi tossed it to him, he unraveled the cloth wrapped around the spear and adjusted his stance.

With a flicker, the cloth flew back with the wind, and Asaluhi caught it mid-air.

The king wasn’t planning on playing around.

He wanted to show the Western warrior something.

Something greater than what Enkrid had demonstrated.

For the trolls, it would be a tale of misfortune.