A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“You were born with the qualities of a Saintess.”

“...Who was?”

What? A Saintess?

At first, suspicion took hold.

In her cloak, she kept a hunting dagger the [N O V E L I G H T] length of a handspan, its blade freshly honed.

If some half-baked conman tried to pull a trick, she was fully prepared to cut off a few of his fingers. And if he approached because of how she looked, she was more than ready to slice off something else entirely.

That’s how Seiki lived.

From the outside, she looked like a small, delicate girl. Which meant she looked easy to rob or beat to death. And that appearance didn’t help at all in her life as a hunter.

Had any monster ever hesitated after seeing her?

If anything, they saw her as easy prey and charged in without a second thought.

Was this just another one of those cases?

Then again, what did she have that would make someone try to bait her with that kind of line?

Was this like that storyteller last year?

That guy had tried to get handsy under the guise of telling tales, and Seiki had made sure he never tried that again by removing one of the parts attached to his body.

From experience, Seiki knew that things tended to go smoother if she showed a bit of her strength when something felt off.

‘I don’t think he’s going to comment on how I look right now.’

Seiki coldly assessed herself. She didn’t need a mirror to know the state she was in.

She hadn’t bathed in a while, so her face was smudged with black grime, and her fur hat was pulled down so low it covered her ears.

The man speaking to her said he was a priest from some temple. His platinum hair was immaculately brushed, and he held something that looked like a golden cluster of grapes with seven beads in his hand. It seemed symbolic—solid, heavy-looking.

Seiki didn’t know, but it was, in fact, a sacred item representing the god he served. It also identified his status and affiliation with the church.

‘A weapon?’

It didn’t look like one.

He didn’t seem dangerous, either.

His priestly robes, his overall impression—none of it screamed threat. And more importantly, this wasn’t a secluded field or mountain path. They were in a corner of the market in a small city.

What kind of idiot would try something shady here?

And on top of that, even her instincts weren’t warning her.

If anything, the man before her gave off a sense of overwhelming kindness.

She had just sold some hides and byproducts, then went to buy salt and seasonings. She hadn’t planned to meet anyone.

They had simply crossed paths, and the man stopped her abruptly, whispering his claim about her being a Saintess.

He kept speaking kindly afterward.

Come visit the Church, he said. You are a daughter of the divine. You’ve been blessed.

Normally, she would’ve ignored him and walked away, but things were different now. Seiki stayed quiet and began to think.

‘Will I live the rest of my life eating animal guts? Maybe it’s time to broaden my view and see more of the world.’

Coincidentally, her grandfather had been away for over three months now.

To be honest, she didn’t feel up to it. “Why bother?” was her first thought.

She didn’t care about saints or gods or whatever.

Being killed by monsters or beasts wasn’t a matter of bad luck or divine abandonment—it happened when you weren’t prepared or properly trained.

But her grandfather had usually been right. So maybe this time, too, he had a point.

“What happens if I become a Saintess?”

Even at her vague question, the priest responded with a smile.

“Everything you desire, anything the Church can provide, will be yours, Saint Child.”

The Church often referred to Saintesses or Saints as children of the divine.

“My name’s not Saint anything. It’s Seiki.”

Thirteen-year-old Seiki knew the ways of the world, but that didn’t mean she had mastered them.

In short, she got fooled.

Everyone makes mistakes, and Seiki believed this was one of hers.

Was that priest a bad person?

No. He wasn’t.

He had looked at Seiki with genuine joy, had truly blessed her, and believed with all his heart that her happiness and everything she’d dreamed of lay within the Church.

Even if she had ignored the kindly-looking priest and passed by, even if she had refused to accompany him, once the Holy Nation knew of the Saintess’s existence, they wouldn’t have left her alone.

Afterward, Seiki was taken to some monastery the Church had built.

It wasn’t in a city—it was up on a mountain ridge. The priest who had led her there had shed tears of joy, offered a blessing, and left.

“Oh, the Lord has shown us His care. The fruit is His, and prosperity is His gift.”

Seiki half-listened with one ear as she entered the monastery. Within two days, she realized she was trapped.

“Where are you going?”

There was always someone stationed by the door. A priest from the Church of Plenty, as they called it, constantly watched over her, claiming to teach her the Saintess’s manners and teachings.

On the surface, she could walk around freely. But anything she actually wanted to do outside was forbidden.

Which meant she was effectively imprisoned.

Her body and spirit felt locked away.

A prison... She had been locked up once before, at age twelve, for three days.

That had been for stabbing someone in the city.

Her grandfather had sold a precious hide to get her out, hadn’t he?

This was no different.

So what’s the problem?

There was one.

Sensing something strange in the air, Seiki started using excuses to scout out the monastery—walking its halls, scanning it with her eyes.

As she did—

“What’s that place for?”

She discovered a cavern beneath the monastery, and traces of people led into it.

She hadn’t gone down there. She hadn’t had the chance or the time.

“It’s a chapel for fasting prayer.”

They said it was for praying without food, but Seiki had caught a faint scent of food from within.

She’d also seen fallen bread crumbs along the path, or tiny animals, or rat droppings.

What did that mean?

‘They’re locking people in there?’

“What kind of things can a Saintess do?”

After that, she played dumb, asking innocent-sounding questions.

Some of the answers were useless, but some were valuable.

The fragments she gathered were enough to piece things together.

“You can create holy water and potions. The divinity of Saints and Saintesses is vastly different from that of regular believers. It’s the power to give. In that sense, Saintess Seiki is still immature and must be trained further.”

That was what Head Sister Shilma had said.

‘Underground. Food. Imprisonment.’

A Saintess can make potions.

So what was her current value?

She didn’t yet know how to tap into the divinity inside her.

But if she learned how to use it properly, what would they make her do?

Most likely, she’d be brewing potions for the rest of her life. Otherwise, why else would they trap her like this?

Seiki had dreams, and she had entered the Church to pursue them—not to be caged.

It’s not like she could just say, “I quit being a Saintess, let me go now,” and expect them to open the gates.

So Seiki began observing people. She studied the buildings. Memorized the layout.

It wasn’t hard. She had grown up memorizing the forest’s features and the locations of traps just from the landscape alone.

If she hadn’t done that, she’d have died long ago.

Compared to where she’d grown up, the monastery’s buildings, the mossy spots in the shade, and the ivy-covered walls were all too distinct.

The layout took shape in her mind.

Not just the terrain—she tracked the people, their weapons, everything. It all went into the map in her head.

Even the people moving in real time were mentally mapped out.

It was part of the skills she’d learned from her grandfather. Her only real assets and abilities.

And she kept it all secret from everyone around her.

After building that 3D map, she came to a conclusion.

‘There’s no way out without help.’

Seiki’s escape attempt succeeded on the very first try. It began with her holding a knife to her teacher’s throat in the middle of theology class.

It was a dinner knife. But whether it was a knife or not didn’t matter—when it came to cutting someone’s throat, it was plenty threatening.

She’d been pretending to be docile, pretending to be weak.

No one could’ve seen it coming.

It was just the two of them in that little room for the lesson.

Seiki had already studied the habits of the place she was in, so she used that knowledge to move.

From the position of the windows, to the terrain—like the underground storerooms built due to the nature of monasteries—she took in everything. Which paths people used, which were left empty, which areas were full of people who could knock her out with a single punch, and where those people were likely to move.

Pretending to escape and scattering traces everywhere, Seiki then hid in the room of a young monk who had pitied her.

“Thank you.”

“...O Lord Father, punish and correct the sins of the Church.”

The young monk admitted through prayer that he understood the absurdity of the current situation.

That didn’t mean there was anything he could do about it.

All he could do was help this pitiful child.

All she asked was to be hidden for a short while.

That was enough. Or he could tell her why she should remain imprisoned for life.

There was no reason to keep her locked up. So, there was nothing to say.

It wasn’t an argument, but there was nothing wrong in what she had said.

And so, the monk granted her wish.

That was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Why? Because if he openly criticized this kind of corruption, he’d be dragged straight to a heresy trial and burned at the stake.

He was like the last shred of conscience left in a rotten Church.

And Seiki had sensed the kind of person he was.

When you hunt or chase monsters, you use everything around you. That was the way.

And that’s all she had done.

This place was more a fortress than a monastery, and everyone here was either a believer or a monk.

But that didn’t mean they were all bastards.

She hid in the monk’s room for just half a day.

Right around the time those chasing her began to realize they’d been tricked—or perhaps started to doubt—Seiki walked out dressed in the young monk’s robes.

She left under a believable pretense, accompanied by a priestess who had cared for her like a nanny.

Two helpers—without them, escaping the monastery-fortress would’ve been impossible.

Leaving behind the colonnade lined with pillars, the statues of the Seven Martyrs at its center, and another sculpture symbolizing the god with seven grapes, Seiki walked out of the prison they called a monastery.

“Thank you.”

The middle-aged woman who had played the nanny replied with a soft smile that made her eyes crease. It was a genuinely kind look.

“Please, live as you wish.”

“It’ll be dangerous for you if I leave, right?”

“You’re not the kind of girl to stop over worries like that, are you, Seiki?”

The woman was warm and compassionate.

If gods or divine incarnations existed, shouldn’t they be like her?

Seiki nodded as she recalled the surface-level theology she’d picked up.

“Sorry. I have something I want, and I’ll live to get it.”

She couldn’t stop just because someone felt sorry for her.

So she left the temple. After that, she walked and ran through cities and fields alike.

She had to avoid the traces of monsters and beasts, and once she realized someone was tailing her, she had to pull off a stunt or two.

She charged through a swamp where dozens of Lizardmen prowled—alone and unarmed.

It was a path no one would think to take, which is why she thought she’d shaken them off.

After somehow making it through, she had no choice but to enter another city.

Naturally, those tracking her followed her there too.

Was it a mistake?

No. If she hadn’t entered the city to prepare and buy supplies, escape afterward would’ve been impossible.

So that’s what she did. She sold the handspan-long silver candlestick she had taken from the temple and bought supplies.

‘Shame about the dagger.’

Her hunting knife had long been taken, and she was weaponless.

She bought a new dagger and used the remaining krona to get thick-soled boots, a cloak, and some clothes.

All this happened before the pursuers caught up. If not, she would’ve been caught by the guards already.

She told them she was a scrappy little hunter joining a party outside the city—one that included her parents. They opened the gate easily for her.

And then she kept walking, brisk and steady.

She wasn’t good at disguises to hide her identity.

Instead, it was the skills she’d been taught and practiced since childhood that carried her forward.

‘Grandpa.’

Of course she thought of the man who raised and taught her.

The early morning air was chilly. Sometimes, by afternoon, the sun warmed the land enough to make her sweat.

She walked with her eyes on the fields whenever she could.

Not quite to the horizon, but she avoided hills, caves, and mountain lines.

She used her senses to search and navigate as she walked.

After pushing through several tight spots, she arrived in Fellheim.

She had planned to shake off her last pursuers here.

‘Persistent bastards.’

Just as she entered the city and tried to leave again, the number of pursuers suddenly swelled.

Earlier, it had felt like less than ten. Now, it was dozens.

They were spread wide, like a massive net closing in.

If you know you’re being chased, you don’t back yourself into a corner. That’s common sense. But she did exactly that. She cut off her retreat and ran into the forest.

Why? Because that was the best escape route available.

‘It’s not the worst-case scenario.’

She’d taken a few hits along the way, but Seiki was recognized by the Church as a Saintess.

Which meant she had innate divine qualities.

She didn’t know how to express them externally or use them consciously.

But if you could call it compensation, she healed fast.

She wasn’t affected by poison and had somehow recovered from injuries that nearly cost her a leg.

“You a half-breed fairy? Or half-breed Frokk?”

“Frokk lay eggs. Did you hatch me from one? Ask Grandpa, not me.”

“Your mom is my daughter, you little brat.”

That’s what her grandfather had said, in his usual blunt tone.

It had always been that way.

A human-Frokk hybrid was supposed to be impossible, so she’d just shrugged it off as some weird quirk back then.

How was she supposed to know it was because of divinity?

Anyway, Seiki planned to keep racing north and shake off all her pursuers.

Escape into the forest, run north. Simple plan—but she had poured in no small effort to make it work.

Half a day passed that way.

Whether the sun or moon was up, she cut into her sleep to keep moving.

She had already mastered the art of sleeping undetected by monsters or beasts.

Fatigue made her limbs feel like someone had strapped stones to them.

After circling around the city, she came upon a stretch of mountains.

It was part of the Gigant mountain range, sometimes called North Fellheim.

And this place... was not just dangerous—it was extremely dangerous.

Fire-breathing monsters called this area home.

Seiki intended to attempt another escape route through those peaks.

That had been her plan.

Until the people blocking her path came into view.

“Saint Child.”

A woman at the center, wearing a warm and gentle smile, spoke first.

“My name is Seiki.”

Seiki declared her identity clearly. She was not some sacred child. She was Seiki.

And the woman in front of her? She was the one who had congratulated her on becoming a Saintess back in that prison of a monastery.