Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 84: Upon deciding to save someone, a gap appeared.

‘Heat.’

It was an explosion. He revisited the final moment several times.

It happened so suddenly, without him even realizing it.

When the half-blood elf assassinated him before, at least they had exchanged a few words before his death.

But this time, there was nothing of the sort.

Only the suffocating heat and the agony of burning to death remained.

When he was stabbed by swords or spears, it usually felt like being skewered by a hot iron rod.

This time, however, he was literally burned alive.

‘A trap? Considering the explosion, it must have been a magic trap.’

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Thinking about taking on a new request.”

After finishing breakfast and responding to Rem’s question, Encrid headed back to pick up new requests.

“Please, I’m begging you. Can you handle this?”

It was, of course, the sewing squad leader making the request.

Did this guy send him knowing about the situation?

But judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he didn’t seem to be making a joke. There was no playful malice—just the look of an exhausted soldier.

“Seems like you’ve got a lot on your plate lately.”

“The guys who usually mess around at night have calmed down, but we’ve been getting more external monster attacks lately, so a lot of manpower is tied up with that.”

His face looked almost on the verge of tears, and the sincerity in his words was evident.

Truthfully, even if he was lying, all Encrid had to do was refuse the request.

And if he accepted, as long as he didn’t enter the shoemaker’s shop, the same thing wouldn’t happen again.

So it was something that could be ignored.

‘It’s like a wall I can easily avoid.’

Thinking that, Encrid asked:

“What if I don’t go?”

“Then we’ll just have to let it sit.”

Some requests within the unit were mandatory for soldiers, but there were others that could be ignored.

This one was the latter.

“Yeah, there’s no real need for you to go. But that shoemaker isn’t the kind of man to spout nonsense. I’d like to go myself, but the platoon leader keeps an eye on me, so I can’t slip away.”

He sounded genuine.

When Encrid hesitated to reply, the sewing squad leader spoke again.

“Hey, you remember me, right? With that bundle of leather, yeah?”

“I remember.”

Back in the city, Encrid had assumed he’d find the squad leader spending his time drinking, but instead, here he was, working hard.

“I’m worried, that’s all. That old man, I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

“Alright.”

He decided to at least check it out and see what was going on.

If it was a typical trap, it would have been poisoned needles, not an explosion of fire.

There hadn’t been any sounds or signs that the trap had been triggered.

If it was magic, though…

‘If it’s magic.’

There was nothing he could do.

This wasn’t something thinking could solve.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, he arrived at the shoemaker’s shop a bit later than usual.

When he knocked on the door, there was no answer.

“This is the Border Guard. Open the door.”

After knocking harder and calling out louder, the door finally opened.

Instead of the shoemaker, a young woman appeared.

She had long, braided brown hair and freckles covering her cheeks.

“You’re with the Border Guard?”

Her eyes were as wide as a deer’s.

“Here for a request.”

As he peeked inside, he noticed that the shoemaker was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a gaping hole lay in the middle of the shop.

“Um, my father said he found something under the shop, so he went down there.”

Damn it.

Muttering under his breath, Encrid gently pushed the shoemaker’s daughter aside and stepped in.

Crumbs of dirt tumbled into the hole.

‘What an impatient old man.’

The shoemaker must have grown tired of waiting for the soldiers and gone in himself. Maybe he didn’t think anyone would show up at all.

He likely assumed soldiers wouldn’t come for something like this.

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it? I told him not to go, but…”

The freckled girl’s face twisted in distress as she bit her lip.

“I’ll go in and bring him back. Wait here.”

“No, I’ll go too.”

It didn’t seem like she’d listen to reason. More importantly, Encrid had to stop the explosion from happening.

Instead of arguing, he immediately leapt into the hole.

Grabbing the edge, he slid his left foot in and rode the slope downward. His movements were fluid.

His ability to control his body had improved thanks to mastering the technique of isolation, making such actions feel effortless.

Though this wasn’t the time to marvel at his own progress.

As soon as he reached the bottom, Encrid’s trained ears picked up the sound of footsteps.

Looking ahead, he saw the shoemaker hesitantly step into the first passageway.

The shoemaker’s daughter, who had followed Encrid, tried to rush past him.

“Dad!”

Encrid caught her by the waist and placed her behind him, shouting:

“Stop!”

The shoemaker turned to look back, tension and confusion etched on his face.

But it was too late—he had already taken the step.

Encrid felt the air compress around him, squeezing his body with a deafening blast.

It all happened in an instant.

Flames, fire, and an explosion.

Whoosh!

“Argh!”

The shoemaker’s brief scream was cut off as fire engulfed him.

Both the shoemaker and his daughter were consumed by the flames.

Boom!

As Encrid died, he thought to himself that the explosion would likely surge upward.

It was a futile death. As he endured the pain, darkness took over. Drifting through a river of black, like in a dream, he opened his eyes to greet the morning once more.

* * *

“Had a bad dream?”

Rem asked from beside him. It was hard to call it a pleasant dream.

In the dream, the ferryman of the black river had smiled at him.

In the past, when this day had repeated, it always felt like things began and ended with his own actions.

This time, however, there was a sense of injustice.

It felt like an inevitable failure.

‘If I leave them, they’ll die.’

First the father, then the daughter.

How far would the aftermath spread?

It didn’t really matter. If they were dead, the task was already a failure.

‘I could just ignore it.’

If Encrid turned away, both of them would die—without a doubt.

So what if they did?

This was a world where people killed and got killed.

It was the way of the times.

As a soldier on the battlefield, Encrid had taken many lives.

But…

‘They aren’t part of the battlefield.’

They were just people trying to run their shop.

Encrid knew he wasn’t the kind of knight that bards sang about, upholding some grand chivalric code.

He had to live according to reality, the way the world had changed.

Even so…

‘I don’t want to lose.’

He could walk away from this.

It wouldn’t be a big deal.

Just another shoemaker and his daughter dead—that’s all.

Only Encrid would know it had happened.

If this were a battle beyond his control, then yes, perhaps he could let it be.

But…

‘I can stop it.’

And if he could stop it, he couldn’t just let it happen.

He wouldn’t call it chivalry.

It was just stubbornness.

That didn’t mean Encrid’s idea of knighthood was diminished.

Even if no one else knew, if there was something he had to protect, he would protect it.

That, to Encrid, was what it meant to be a knight.

A dreamer cannot betray their dream.

And so, Encrid had to go—he had to save the shoemaker and his daughter.

“This is a real pain.”

Rarely expressing irritation, Encrid began his day in frustration.

He was annoyed at himself for walking too slowly the previous day and letting them die.

“Sounds like you had a seriously bad dream,” Rem murmured from behind him.

As Encrid ate and prepared to take on the request again, he thought:

‘Should I go down each path, one by one?’

It would be an absurdly tedious task.

Who knew how many traps lay hidden there?

But there were no better options.

He couldn’t bring any of his squad members along, either.

‘What would they think if I told them there might be undead monsters beneath the shoemaker’s shop?’

They’d probably make fun of him, and no one would come along anyway.

He could force them, but that didn’t feel right.

Should he rely on others every time something went wrong?

Or should he handle it alone?

Was his dream to stand behind others and bark orders?

Or to stand at the front, wielding his sword?

Whether or not this task required a sword, Encrid had made up his mind.

‘I’ll do it alone. I’ll protect them.’

This wasn’t something to burden his squad with.

“You know I’m worried about that shoemaker, right?”

“Yeah, and how was that snake liquor?”

“Delicious.”

As the sewing squad leader smacked his lips at the memory, Encrid took the request and headed off at a brisk pace.

“Where are you rushing off to?”

Jaxson called from behind.

“To save some unlucky civilians at the shoemaker’s.”

“…Did the shoes or boots start bothering them?”

No, it’s the underground tunnels.

Encrid kept that thought to himself and made his way to the shop.

Before he even reached the door, the sound of hammering greeted him—thump, thump, thump.

When he knocked forcefully on the door, the shoemaker, sweating from his work, emerged.

“Look here, see that hole?”

“Yes, I see it. Let’s have a look.”

Encrid helped pry open the hole using a hammer and a thick iron rod as leverage.

Once the opening was wide enough, he said, “I’ll go down. Stay here.”

“But what if there are monsters—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Before descending, Encrid lit a torch with a flint.

Whoosh.

Even just looking at the fire made him uneasy. Dying in flames twice was more than enough.

The moment he descended, a strange feeling washed over him.

It was a primal instinct, a fear born from the memory of death.

He didn’t want to enter the tunnel.

But turning back wasn’t an option. He pushed forward.

If he kept running away from things he hated, he’d spend his life in retreat.

He’d fled many times before to survive, and every time, he regretted it.

He didn’t want to experience that regret again.

So Encrid didn’t turn back. He moved forward.

The first tunnel looked increasingly ominous.

There were six passages—five more to check.

‘Where is it?’

Whoever built these tunnels wouldn’t have trapped every passage.

Would the second one be safe?

Encrid cautiously raised his torch, inspecting the floor, walls, and ceiling.

Nothing stood out.

Just another branching path.

The size of the tunnels was about the same, and the darkness stretched on endlessly.

Whoever created this space beneath the city was insane.

It might even connect to the sewers.

Thud.

Dust fell from above.

It didn’t seem like a hastily made tunnel.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t collapse on him.

For now, it was time to explore deeper. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person had built this.

‘Let’s go.’

He approached the second passage.

‘If the first tunnel ends in flames…’

What about this one?

As he stood at the entrance to the second passage, that same unpleasant feeling surged again. But he ignored it and stepped forward.

The first step, taken with bated breath, yielded no unusual results. No explosions, no flames, nothing else.

Encrid inspected the surroundings carefully, raising the torch high to observe every corner.

After thorough observation, he concluded:

‘I can’t figure anything out just by looking.’

There was barely enough time to focus on mastering his sword, let alone learning how to navigate dungeons.

Identifying traps was a skill for those with proper training.

So…

‘There’s no answer.’

The only way was to move forward.

The oppressive sense of foreboding clung to him, like a monster waiting with its jaws wide open.

It felt like he was willingly sticking his head into the beast’s mouth.

As he steeled himself to push on—

“What are you doing?”

The shoemaker had followed him down and spoke from behind.

That one question dulled Encrid’s heightened instincts, making the next step seem less daunting.

What had felt so ominous moments ago now seemed trivial.

“Don’t come closer.”

He’d had enough of dying together with the shoemaker.

As he took another step forward, that unsettling feeling returned.

He couldn’t quite place it, but it was the same sense of something being off.

Like he had just made a critical mistake.

‘A step I shouldn’t have taken.’

That thought was the answer.

Whoosh.

Just like the first tunnel.

Explosion. Pressure. Flames.

He didn’t know what lay at the end of the passage, but it was guarded by deadly traps.

Boom!

The sound echoed as fire consumed him again. Of course, he didn’t just die quietly.

‘Ah.’

As he perished, Encrid let out a brief sigh. Regardless of the pain, the Heart of the Beast allowed him to assess his situation with clarity.

And as the third day came to a close, he realized something unexpected.

Then, he greeted the fourth day once more.