Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 570 - Traces in the Forest

Either the child was exceptionally intelligent, or someone had trained her rigorously for such scenarios.

Then came the lingering question:

"Why is a Paladin involved directly?"

From what Enkrid had gathered, the pursuers from the Holy Nation were from the Paladin Corps—a select force within their military.

But why deploy such a group for a single child?

What significance did this pursuit hold?

The presence of Paladins necessitated notifying the kingdom, which suggested a situation beyond mere pursuit.

After a brisk reconnaissance around the forest's perimeter, Enkrid came to a singular conclusion: the Saint's gambit failed to account for a force capable of shredding through both terrain and opposition without delay.

Enkrid's effort to circle the forest had proven fruitful.

If he had pursued step-by-step, meticulously following the traces, he might never have discerned the Saint's ploy.

The pursuers were concentrated in the eastern forest of Felheim.

The traces abruptly ended at the forest's edge but indicated movement deeper within.

"Alright, I've unraveled this puzzle. But what about the Paladin Corps?"

Had they anticipated this scenario?

Perhaps they had, given their familiarity with the Saint and their persistent pursuit.

They would not have fallen for the same trick twice without preparing countermeasures.

"So, is that why they increased their numbers?"

The Paladin Corps had dispersed kronas, not merely to form a net but as bait to provoke a reaction from the Saint.

Yet even in this tactic, their frugality with kronas was evident—almost laughable.

Listening to accounts confirmed this: the Paladin Corps operated knowing their hired hands would not succeed.

They minimized advance payments and even invoked their god's name as collateral, an audacious and creative display of exploitation.

While bounty hunters pursued one trail, the Paladins likely took another.

From a distance, their strategy was apparent: drive the target like a rabbit, using hunters as hounds to flush her toward the traps.

"They've outmaneuvered me," Enkrid muttered.

No one is infallible.

Winning and losing in pursuits had always been a coin flip, even now.

His knighthood had not changed that.

Enkrid was not trained as a master tracker but had honed his instincts through experience.

Was he late?

Perhaps.

But that was no reason to stop.

In the past, being captured never meant the end, and missing a lead didn't signify failure.

Success often came from persistence, not perfection.

"We return to the city. Keep pace with me," he ordered and took off running.

The ground shattered with a loud crack as Enkrid surged forward, holding nothing back.

Grrrraaaa!

A ghoul blocked his path. Enkrid didn't even draw his sword.

Passing by in a flash, he snapped the creature's neck with his hands. The Valah martial arts style shone through.

The ghoul's spine protruded grotesquely as it collapsed lifelessly.

Enkrid dispatched every beast and monster that crossed his path, pressing forward relentlessly.

Reaching the city, Enkrid filled his lungs, then bellowed:

"Deutsch!"

The resonating cry startled a boy feeding a donkey, who fell over in fright.

A carpenter building an inn accidentally smashed his hand with a hammer, howling in pain.

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"Ow!"

Ignoring the commotion, Enkrid sprinted toward his target.

Soon, a figure appeared, shoeless as always.

"What's going on now?" the startled Deutsch stammered as Enkrid's glowing blue eyes locked onto him.

"Do you know the Paladin Corps' location?"

He did.

Deutsch had continued gathering information even after Enkrid's departure.

"They were spotted near the northern outskirts."

The Paladins weren't adept at hiding their movements, making them easy to track.

However, that was the extent of the lead. North? But where exactly?

Once again, Enkrid resolved to compensate for incomplete knowledge with sheer effort.

"Let's run," he declared, shaking the city with his booming voice before sprinting off.

"See you around, brother!"

Following behind was a towering bear beastkin.

"Indeed. My thanks, on behalf of my betrothed," quipped a peculiar fairy.

The three dashed to a manor, arriving and departing as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Deutsch feeling like he'd seen a ghost.

Enkrid always brought chaos and unpredictability.

After catching his breath and returning to the manor, another visitor soon arrived.

"Do you know where the members of the Holy Order went?"

The man had a benevolent expression with downturned eyes.

Likely in his mid-to-late forties, he wore armor that suggested a formidable presence.

The most striking feature was his eyes: silver pupils.

If there was one more thing worth noting, it would be his apparent age.

He seemed older than he looked, though it was purely a feeling.

"If it's inconvenient, you don't have to answer, but I'd appreciate it if you would. I assure you, no harm will come of it. Brother."

The man spoke, and Deutsch realized he couldn't carelessly refuse.

The air, the demeanor, and the tone—all of it made it clear that this man possessed extraordinary power.

Even so, should he act solely out of self-interest here?

No, he should still speak.

Whatever the man's intentions, Deutsch could follow up and address any fallout.

Despite his earlier intent to withdraw from the tangled situation,

Deutsch made a decision.

"Let's go together."

He resolved to face the complications head-on.

The silver-eyed man smiled broadly.

"Then, thank you kindly."

***

The first thing the girl who would become a saint ever held was a bow.

The first thing she ever made was a trap.

A crude snare with a stick propped against a rock, a strip of leather stretched taut, and a small stone balanced precariously on top—meant to fall with a "thud."

It wasn't even good enough to catch a mouse, but it was her toy, her game.

That was the childhood of the saint.

Now, as a fugitive, she had decided to shake off her pursuers here.

'Felheim.'

She muttered the name of the city under her breath, as if out of habit, while memorizing the surrounding terrain.

If she left traces near the edge of the eastern forest, she could lose most of her pursuers.

It was something she had learned through experience.

'They'll be careless, won't they?'

To those chasing her, it might look like she was running in a panic.

She made it appear that way deliberately.

However, regardless of what they thought, the saint had no intention of venturing deep into the forest.

She knew, even if this wasn't where she grew up, just how dangerous forests could be to humans.

'Unless it's just one or two ghouls or man-faced hounds.'

In the open fields, her keen eyesight was an asset that reduced danger.

But in the forest, that was no longer true.

Even with heightened senses and the ability to remain half-alert while resting, death felt much closer.

She knew this instinctively.

'Don't die.'

One couldn't enter a forest unprepared.

One couldn't scale a mountain unprepared.

Her grandfather's teachings and her own experiences had taught her that.

Thus, she wouldn't enter the forest—not really.

But she could make them believe she had.

Hadn't she already risked her life three times to move in ways no ordinary person could fathom?

By choosing an improbable route, she could force her pursuers into a single line of thought.

'Leave footprints here.'

She deliberately left traces leading into the forest.

Breaking a few branches would make it seem like she had fled in haste.

After creating just enough clues, she tied a rope around her waist, attaching a blunt, elongated rock to its end.

Whoosh, whoosh.

Swinging the weighted rope, she hurled it at a branch. The sturdy fabric absorbed the rock's weight, looping around the branch several times before holding firm.

Climbing the tree, she moved horizontally along the branches, leaping from one to another.

This created a "tree path," tricking anyone following her trail on the ground.

She would circle the forest's edge and then return to the outskirts.

To do this, one needed a specific skill: the ability to move through trees as effortlessly as a flying squirrel.

She had that skill, so she used it.

Of course, she remained vigilant.

If she sensed any aerial monsters, she would need to flee immediately.

The sound of wings or a presence in her sensory range would mean danger from unpredictable creatures.

This too was a risk to her life, but it was one she calculated to be minimal.

At this time of day, neither specter-like abominations nor large flying monsters would likely appear.

The greatest threat might be an owl-beast, but it was daytime, so the chances of encountering a nocturnal predator were slim.

This was precisely why she chose to flee now.

Her planning and execution had brought her to this point.

'Not bad.'

Her grandfather's teachings, combined with her own insights, had carried her this far.

Naturally, it hadn't been easy.

Escaping from the Holy Kingdom was never going to be simple.

To get here, Seiki had to rely on the compassion of some and the sacrifices of others.

There had been a priestess who had cared for her like a nanny and a monk who ultimately risked everything to help her escape.

'They'll be branded heretics and killed.'

She hadn't understood at first, but after eight months of being trained to become a saint, Seiki had come to understand the truth.

She now knew what the church intended to do to her.

'Why is making holy water or potions so important?'

The teachings claimed to prove divinity, but it felt more like brainwashing.

She had hidden her doubts, maintaining a calm facade.

She had no other choice.

For now, Seiki pushed those thoughts aside and focused.

While finishing her so-called "tree path," she pressed her feet against the trunk of a tree, gripping a branch to steady herself.

Few would be able to follow her trail this far, but she wasn't taking any chances.

"Whew."

Taking a deep breath, Seiki bent her knees and launched herself.

With a solid kick against the tree trunk, she soared briefly through the air like a flying squirrel.

As her body angled downward, she braced for the inevitable fall.

She tucked her shoulders, rolled on impact, and rose to her feet in a seamless motion.

Thanks to her impeccable landing technique, she emerged unscathed, save for a slight ache in her wrist—nothing that wouldn't heal quickly.

She unwound the rope from the tree and tied it securely around her waist.

Now, it was time to circle back near the city and bypass it.

As she moved, Seiki recalled how this ordeal began.

That day had been utterly chaotic.

She hadn't realized it then, but in hindsight, it was clear.

Perhaps, if she had handled things differently that day, she wouldn't be on the run now.

But then again, who could say?

The church would never have relinquished its hold on a saint so easily.

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