Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 517 - Rotten Eyes

Chapter 517 - Rotten Eyes

Esther's previous spell realm was born from observing nature.

She originally lived in the mountains and wandered through the forests.

Though she often hunted monsters, fought magical beasts, and faced off against mages, those battles were fleeting moments in a life that was otherwise steeped in nature.

Now, however, Esther found herself fascinated with observing people.

Even after parting ways with Enkrid, she continued to explore the marketplace:

people bargaining, porters carrying loads, noblewomen wearing wide-brimmed hats to avoid the sunlight, children running and laughing in the sun, their parents scolding them, and a man inside a newly opened café pulling at his hair over some beverage he was concocting.

It was all observation—a process of discerning their thoughts and intentions.

Interesting.

To her surprise, watching them proved to be quite entertaining.

Even the process of getting here had been amusing in its own way.

Esther understood that to purchase anything in the market, she needed Krona.

She chose the most rational method to acquire it: quietly and persistently following Krais around while simply staring at him.

"...Nurat, what did I do to deserve this?"

Krais whispered, glancing at Esther, and Nurat tried to assess what she could do against a powerful mage like her.

Relying on her intuition as a woman, her instincts as a warrior, and her familiarity with Krais, she chose the best course of action she could think of.

"Apologize to her."

"That's probably the quickest solution."

Krais nodded.

For now, he decided to admit fault.

After all, no matter where he went, the witch's eyes seemed to follow him.

It was a recipe for nightmares.

To Krais, Esther was no longer a beautiful woman; she was a witch.

Perhaps she was still upset about the time he targeted her claws back when she was in panther form.

"Yes, I was wrong," Krais said aloud.

The head of the construction guild, who had been standing nearby to ask Krais for a favor, blinked in confusion.

"Pardon?"

"Not you," Krais clarified.

At that moment, Esther glided toward them as if she were sliding over the ground.

Thud!

"Ugh!"

The construction guild leader fell backward in surprise, while Krais, though startled, managed to keep his footing—a testament to the resilience he'd developed during his time with the madmen unit.

Esther approached without saying a word, her gaze locked on him.

She thought to herself

What would happen if she kept following and staring at this man, who feared her and carried a pouch filled with Krona?

Especially a man as perceptive as Krais?

"...What do you want?"

Krais asked cautiously, trying to understand her intentions.

Was this some strange influence from Enkrid?

Though Enkrid had his admirable qualities, Krais often thought his commander seemed completely unhinged.

"Do you need something?" Krais pressed.

"Ghost!"

The construction guild leader, still on the ground, shouted in fear.

"No, she's not a ghost... She's a member of the Madmen unit, under the command of General Enkrid," Krais corrected him.

Hearing this, the guild leader blinked again and finally noticed Esther's striking appearance—her pale skin, black hair, blue eyes, long legs, and subtly revealing attire. A flower blooming beside a demon slayer.

"Oh."

Ignoring the guild leader's reaction, Krais turned back to Esther.

"Do you need Krona?"

Esther extended her hand without a word.

Looking at her, Krais wondered what he was supposed to do with someone as eccentric as this.

If she needed something, couldn't she just go to the quartermaster?

Still, he couldn't picture someone like Esther going to the quartermaster and asking for a few silver coins.

Reluctantly, Krais handed her a pouch containing over a hundred silver coins—more than enough for her needs.

But Esther didn't withdraw her hand.

"Give it in gold," Nurat advised.

Following her suggestion, Krais handed over gold coins instead.

That day, Esther ended up with three more pouches.

Reflecting on the incident, Esther found the experience oddly enjoyable—the reactions of her target, her own actions, everything about it.

Then why did I let Enki go?

Recalling the moment she saw Enkrid leaving earlier, Esther felt a strange pressure in her chest.

It was a sharp and aching sensation.

What was the source of this feeling?

Why did her heart feel so heavy?

Should she have followed him?

Was she worried about his carelessness in not carrying even a single gold coin?

She didn't know.

Perhaps it didn't even matter.

There wasn't a clear answer, and maybe that's what bothered her.

Still, this sensation was a part of who she was, and Esther never ignored the voice of her own heart.

Observing Enkrid, she had noticed something subtle—his eyebrows. The front part seemed slightly raised, giving his expression a hint of weariness.

The shift in his demeanor, Esther believed, reflected a change in his state of mind.

That was what her observations told her, though she saw no reason to address it.

From a distance, she watched Enkrid's back as he disappeared beyond the market. For now, this life of observation and spell reconstruction was enough for her.

Someday, if he needed her strength, she would lend it—not out of obligation for freeing her from a curse, but simply because she wanted to.

Esther focused on her task: observing and rebuilding her spell realm. For now, that was all she needed.

***

"You've come?"

The owner of the forge, a seasoned artisan, recognized Enkrid immediately. Even from a distance, his distinct appearance was hard to miss.

The forge, located on the outskirts of the city, had recently been established by the artisan, who had brought his own tools and equipment. Though he was originally supposed to return to the capital, he had decided to stay in the Border Guard.

The reasons were unknown to Enkrid, but he assumed there was no issue with the arrangement. And he was right—both the artisan and the guild master in the capital had accepted it without complaint.

The artisan preferred the simplicity of his work in the Border Guard. The area, known as a haven for merchants, provided ample access to rare materials.

Focused solely on forging weapons, the artisan took no apprentices and rejected mass production, sticking to his own standards.

Despite these quirks, the Border Guard supported him, ensuring he lacked for nothing. Thanks to Krais's efforts, the artisan supplied weapons to the military barracks, ensuring a steady stream of work.

"Sometimes, I just want to make what I want," the artisan had told Krais, who respected his independence.

This was the same craftsman who had forged weapons for Rem and Ragna using iron from the Lewis Mountains and dark gold. Even Krais, a man of few words, had praised the quality of his work.

To Krais, a weapon's craftsmanship directly reflected the skill of its wielder—a belief echoed by the madmen unit.

It was this reputation that led Enkrid to the forge, now an official supplier for the Border Guard. Among the artisans working there were humans, Frogs, and dwarves.

As the three stood there silently, the blacksmith asked if they needed something.

"I need to get a few things taken care of," Enkrid replied.

While he was speaking, a young apprentice with a towel wrapped around his head stepped out from the back of the forge.

"Oh! The Demon Slayer!" the apprentice exclaimed.

"Good to meet you," Enkrid replied with a nod.

The apprentice quickly lowered his head in apology. "Ah, I'm sorry!" He realized he had addressed the visitor too casually in his surprise.

Enkrid waved dismissively. "It's fine."

"So, what do you need?" the blacksmith asked.

Enkrid began unfastening his weapons one by one, placing them on the counter.

"This one's joints are loose, and I'm not sure if this other one can even be repaired. Also, if you could sharpen the blades, that would be great," Enkrid said.

"Is that... Aker?"

The sword hummed faintly, causing the blacksmith to remove his hand from its grip in astonishment. The trembling blade had startled him.

The blacksmith had once worked on royal armory maintenance and had seen Aker before. Much like how a young man might never forget the face of an extraordinary beauty even decades later, the blacksmith remembered Aker vividly.

"It is," Enkrid confirmed, standing casually.

The apprentice, sensing the need, fetched a short-legged stool, the type used in their work since there weren't any chairs for visitors. Enkrid sat down without a fuss.

"How did a royal treasure end up here?" the blacksmith asked, incredulous.

"They gave it to me," Enkrid replied.

"This? They gave you this?"

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Enkrid nodded.

Though a few people knew about the sword being gifted, the majority didn't. If word got out, even the Marquis of Baisar might question Krang about it. Not to reclaim the sword or insist it couldn't be given away, but certain formalities demanded at least a gesture of protest.

Krang had quietly handed over the blade, ensuring most wouldn't know. Should the issue arise later, he likely planned to deal with it then.

"I can't touch this blade. The fact it remains sharp at all is a mystery. I don't know how to forge weapons with magic," the blacksmith admitted honestly, glancing toward the dwarf sitting nearby before returning his attention to the gladius. Picking it up, his eyes sparkled with anticipation at the challenge of improving it.

However, his expression suddenly stiffened. He set the sword down and turned to Enkrid.

"Allow me to introduce Argan," the blacksmith said, gesturing toward the dwarf with his finger.

"Nice to meet you," Argan said, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"The Demon Slayer and Border Guard General, huh? You've got some luck," Argan added, his boozy breath mingling with the smell of spirits.

Despite the lively conversation, the Frog seated nearby didn't glance their way.

Enkrid, unfazed, asked calmly, "What luck?"

"I'm about to forge something remarkable here in this smithy," Argan said with pride.

Enkrid looked back and forth between the confident dwarf and the human blacksmith, beginning to understand why the latter had stepped aside.

He turned to the human.

"Is he better than you?"

"Yes," the blacksmith admitted without hesitation, showing no signs of wounded pride.

"Hah! That's an understatement," the dwarf interjected with a belch.

"There are some conditions, though," Argan continued.

"Get me some good booze and a decent house to stay in. Oh, and cover my tabs back in Martai. I've got some debts there."

He ended with another belch, accompanied by the smell of cured meat.

Dwarves were said to be children of fire and steel, naturally gifted in working with both. Not every dwarf shared this affinity, of course, just as not every giant was a merchant. But this particular dwarf clearly excelled in his craft, likely surpassing most blacksmiths by a wide margin.

"I'll vouch for his skills," the blacksmith said, still shaken by Aker earlier.

Enkrid nodded, then handed his gladius to the human blacksmith.

"I want you to handle this," Enkrid said.

The dwarf, who had been reaching for the sword, froze in disbelief. He had assumed it would naturally be entrusted to him.

"I don't care how skilled you are or what you claim. I don't entrust my sword to someone with rotten eyes," Enkrid declared.

The Frog, who had been busy with its task, finally raised its head and glanced in their direction, its large eyes rolling lazily.

The blacksmith looked at the gladius thoughtfully, while the dwarf let out a heavy snort.

"Rotten eyes? What did he just say?"

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