A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Time is segmented. The domain of perception widens.

You go beyond sight—listening with your ears, smelling with your nose, feeling with your skin.

Because his body had already reacted on its own, calculating the exact moment the projectile would strike was effortless for Enkrid.

He perceived the timing and trajectory of the incoming arrow and had his answer.

He lifted his arm into the path of the arrow and clenched his fist.

Tap. Brrrr.

The arrow landed in his hand.

Its target had been clear—right under the shoulder.

"They weren't aiming to kill."

Everything happened just after he heard the wind whistle. Enkrid froze in place with his right hand raised, the arrow's shaft and feathers trembling in his grip.

He could sense the intent behind the arrow—but had no clue where it was fired from. According to trajectory logic, it came from the front. His mind processed it that way—but his senses disagreed.

The gap between fact and feeling was... fascinating.

"I can't read anything."

Pell spoke.

Enkrid scanned the surroundings, arrow still in hand. Nothing was visible to his eyes either.

As they stood observing—

Piiing.

Three more arrows flew in.

Whoever fired them was so in sync, the sound of three arrows splitting the air overlapped like a single shot.

That was just the sound. In his widened perception, Enkrid knew immediately—it was three projectiles.

He had caught one—why not catch three?

Letting go of the first, he snatched two arrows from the air with both hands and kicked the third.

Smack!

The kicked arrow deflected sideways.

Catching arrows was impressive—but kicking one away? That was borderline miraculous.

Only a knight could manage such a feat.

"Likely enchanted,"

Pell commented from behind, his hand resting on his sword's hilt. He meant they couldn't sense the attackers because of a spell.

Enkrid silently agreed, continuing to wait for a response.

They weren't being welcomed, that much was clear.

Should they respond aggressively?

Would doing anything trigger another hail of arrows?

Maybe if he blocked them all, they'd start talking?

"Kind of a lively greeting, don't you think, you pointy-eared bastards?"

Lua Gharne snapped, lacking any reason to be polite toward those who'd just shot at them.

"...Outsiders are not permitted entry."

A voice came from beyond the green mist.

Even hearing it, Enkrid couldn't pinpoint its origin. Still that same sensory dissonance.

Not that he was helpless—cutting down a few of the trees behind the mist was one option.

"That would definitely piss them off."

Fairies—even the ones Enkrid had only glimpsed in the past—shared a distaste for tree-cutting.

It wasn't that they'd die to protect a single tree or blade of grass. More accurately, their defense of the forest was about defending their home.

Just like any race, they prioritized survival and prosperity. And forests were ideal for fairies: their staple diet was leaves, grass, dew, fruit. Forest energy was their lifeblood.

That's why they worshipped a massive tree at the center of their city—calling it the World Tree.

Sometimes it held magical or mystical power. Other times, it was simply a well-grown tree.

In any case, Lua Gharne had just thrown a harsh insult, so a typical fairy would've told her to go to hell. But instead, the voice merely repeated:

"This is not a place for outsiders."

"I see."

Enkrid responded nonchalantly.

"If I shouted 'Shinar, let's play,' would she show up?"

Unlikely. So should he charge in and stir up chaos?

He was still weighing his options. Two arrows in hand was a decent threat, depending on who you were dealing with.

"We acknowledge your skill. But even if you kill us, the barrier will not open."

Another fairy voice replied. Logical, calm, detached—even with their life on the line, fairies spoke in reason. That coldness reminded Enkrid of Shinar.

Even though they were conversing, it felt like talking to air. The voice was crystal clear—but the speaker's location? Still undetectable.

After mastering sensory arts, Enkrid could tell a northeast wind from the fluttering of a banner. He'd even imbued his body with Will. Yet he still couldn't locate the speaker.

He wasn't here to threaten them—or to cause trouble. Though if things turned ugly, a few sword swings might be in order.

If they were the ones oppressing Shinar? Then he'd have to try conversational swordsmanship for a bit.

He'd used it before—on burning spirits, on holy knights. It wasn't a "pleasant" conversation method.

After those thoughts passed, Enkrid finally spoke.

"Shinar Kirheis."

He declared the fairy's name he'd heard before—stating his purpose.

Still no presence could be felt in the forest.

"I've come to find her."

He added, giving them enough time to process.

"...Who are you?"

Finally, a halfway normal response.

Enkrid figured he had little to say. Surely the fairies didn't know him.

But that wasn't quite true. Fairies might live behind barriers, but they weren't cut off from the world.

They traded. They interacted.

Pell, raised in an isolated shepherd's village, had seen how even secluded societies knew the names that mattered.

If someone like Enkrid became famous—there was no hiding it.

He also figured introducing himself before saying he was from Border Guard would create a better impression.

Honestly? He just wanted to speak up first.

Pell stepped forward. Before Enkrid could say anything, Pell raised his voice.

"Lord of Border Guard, Guardian of the Border, Knight of the Iron Wall, Demon Slayer, Heartbreaker of Wom—ah, forget that one. The Mad Knight Enkrid!"

Clear and loud—his voice rang past the green mist.

Maybe he was still bitter from the beating  during their sparring. He'd slipped in a jab. But it worked.

"Knight of the Iron Wall?"

Another fairy's voice, not the first speaker.

"Protector of the Demonic Lands?"

Yet another.

Ugh, the nicknames were starting to blend.

Enkrid almost said something, but didn't. After all, you don't change titles with words—you do it with action.

The fairies still spoke softly and calmly, but now their voices carried faint emotion: admiration, surprise, subtle as a leaf trembling. Only someone sensitive would even notice.

"Heartbreaker? Then maybe that's why Shinar returned alone..."

Some stray mutter from the background, but Enkrid ignored it.

At least they weren't keeping Shinar locked up.

"May I visit, then?"

Enkrid asked.

Fairies only welcomed invited guests—that was their rule.

"If you truly are the Knight of the Iron Wall."

The voice returned.

They didn't take his claim at face value. More questions and answers followed.

But honestly—catching arrows and kicking them aside had probably proven enough.

If a fight broke out, hiding behind the mist wouldn't save them. Even the fairies behind it knew that.

In short—a person that strong didn't need to impersonate anyone.

"It's an honor, Demon Slayer."

A clear male fairy's voice replied.

"I've never seen someone catch arrows like that. Truly remarkable, human knight. And kicking one away..."

This time a female fairy spoke. Hard to guess her age from tone alone.

Their voices grew clearer. The mist began to thin and spread.

Now he noticed—the mist had been perfectly still the entire time.

"A perception-blocking spell."

He realized only once it moved.

He recorded the sensation in his mental library. It wasn't intentional—more of a reflex, like training sensory techniques.

As the fog dispersed, hazy forms appeared.

The mist didn't vanish completely—but as sunlight dipped and shadows stretched, five fairies became visible.

Most imagine fairies as frail, delicate. Reality was... different.

Three of them were small—not dwarfs, but shorter than human adults. More like young teens. Their bodies looked fragile—yet they carried longbows taller than themselves.

Despite the delicate appearance, you could see toned muscle along their forearms. These weren't children.

The three archers were female—the ones who'd fired at him.

The remaining two were male. One was fairly large, the other had white hair.

Enkrid's gaze stopped on the white-haired one. He lingered just a second longer on his hair—and the man noticed.

"Curious? Fairies go gray as they age."

"It's my first time seeing it."

"Most return to their homelands to die. So yes, rare. I'll apologize for the arrows. They were meant as warning shots. Didn't expect you to catch them."

Enkrid nodded. As the fairy said, none of the arrows had aimed for lethal points.

The later three had been tests—of skill.

So, it really wasn't a big deal.

He was here for Shinar. And now, he was face to face with someone who might offer answers.

He stared at the white-haired fairy. Seemed like the one in charge.

Shinar had once mentioned that fairies respected age. The older, the wiser—and so their voices mattered more.

She'd emphasized it a few times, right after telling him her own age.

"Come. Let's go inside."

The elder invited.

Enkrid nodded. Pell and Lua Gharne followed.

"Demon Slayer."

The big male fairy called.

His sharp jaw and stern eyes gave off a confrontational vibe—but a faint glimmer of respect shone in his gaze.

You had to really look to catch it.

They'd been trained from childhood to restrain emotion. So for them, this was akin to humans bursting into cheers.

The other fairies' eyes had similar expressions—though three of them held a strange yearning in their gaze.

Barely noticeable. Enkrid only picked up on it because he'd spent so long with Shinar and honed his senses.

The fact that they knew his name—and looked at him like that—definitely not ordinary.

The large fairy spoke slowly and {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} precisely, one word at a time. His tone was stiff, cold, but carefully measured.

"It is an honor to meet you."

Not the words, but the sincerity.

Yes—he meant it. Enkrid read it in his voice and nodded.

This had been the same fairy who had said it was an "honor" earlier from beyond the mist.

"If the chance comes later... may we cross swords?"

He added.

Same calm tone. Enkrid was already used to it.

"A duel?"

"Yes."

"Anytime."

As they spoke, the white-haired fairy cut in.

"You think now is the time, Zero?"

Still a neutral voice.

"Apologies, Elder."

Zero bowed his head.

If they were human, you might think he wasn't really sorry. The other three fairies remained silent once revealed.

Apparently, they weren't the chatty type.

Enkrid had nothing else to say.

"Quite the combative fairy."

Pell commented dryly. A sarcastic jab. Not that anyone could tell if he was serious.

The fairy stared at Pell. Pell stared back.

A brief spark—but the fairy looked away, and the tension dissipated.

"Lame."

Pell muttered.

To be fair, Pell was no stranger to picking fights. It's just that Rem usually outshone him.

"I need to keep my head on straight."

Enkrid made a mental note, using Pell as a lesson.

"This way."

The elder turned and led the way.

He walked into the mist, barely making a sound. Light steps—the natural grace of the fairies. They really were born assassins.

As they walked into the green mist, visibility worsened. It was a magical barrier that prevented even light from penetrating.

Thanks to Esther, Enkrid had picked up enough magical knowledge to understand that much.

Eventually, the terrain sloped downward slightly—and before them appeared a peculiar tunnel.

Leaves curled around in a perfect circle, forming a long cave. The floor and ceiling were made entirely of leaves.

How they'd crafted this—Enkrid couldn't guess.

He walked inside, losing sense of time.

Only leaves in every direction, the scent of grass and flowers, like a dream.

It didn't even feel magical.

Then suddenly—he opened his eyes, and the cave was gone.

Before him lay the fairy city.

"Welcome to our city,"

said the white-haired elder.

There were no towering walls or grand castles—but something incredibly striking appeared at first glance.

Puff.

A massive figure made entirely of wood raised a branch-like arm—and took a drag from a cigarette.

"What are you staring at? Never seen a tree smoke before?"

The tree giant asked.

Enkrid had the sudden urge to pinch his own cheek.