WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 104: Ressa's Message

“Damn it.”

Finn bit her lip and muttered softly. Her defeated voice only reached Enkrid and Torres, who were barely within earshot behind her.

The three had barely turned around when they encountered a group of soldiers.

Leaning against a gentle curve in the wall, Finn peeked her head out and tossed her torch behind her.

Once the light source flew away, only the faint glow from the torches ahead remained, plunging the surroundings into darkness.

Torres crouched down, staring forward.

Although he couldn't see through the dark, he had trained for moments like these, allowing him to roughly estimate the number of enemies and their armament.

“Shit, there’s a lot of them.”

A quick glance revealed more than twenty soldiers. Their equipment wasn’t light either. They carried crossbows by default, with short swords strapped to their waists. All of them were similarly armed.

What did that mean?

“They’re a trained unit.”

This wasn't just a ragtag band of mercenaries. That was the crux of the problem. A trained force of soldiers was far more dangerous than a pack of beasts or monsters.

Especially in such a narrow tunnel, facing enemies armed with crossbows.

“We’re screwed.”

While Torres surveyed the enemy, Finn pondered. Should they turn back and try escaping through the Cross Guard instead?

Had their retreat route only been blocked? Or was something waiting for them on the path they originally intended to take?

As Finn and Torres found themselves spiraling into a light panic, thinking in silence to avoid making a sound, Enkrid suddenly bolted forward.

He shouted at the top of his lungs, “Messenger! I’m the messenger of Captain Roger!”

Torres was shocked. Finn was even more shocked. Neither could make a sound, nor even think of extending a hand to stop him.

“Crazy bastard.”

It was practically a suicide move. If just three or four crossbowmen fired, Enkrid would end up skewered in no time. He knew that, but still, he charged ahead without hesitation.

It made sense, though. Roger was the name of the captain of the spear unit. By shouting something confusing like that, it made the enemy hesitate.

“Can’t find a weak spot? Then make one. Fight honorably? Does that ever save your life?”

That was what Jaxon had said. Deceiving the enemy? If it was necessary, why not?

Just because you dreamed of being a knight didn’t mean you were going to become some idiot who only fought duels. Sure, if the situation called for honor, he’d do so.

‘In the first place, laying a trap, using a sorcerer, and even bringing in lycanthropes— what’s there to be honorable about?’

This wasn’t just about fooling the enemy to survive today. As tension left his shoulders, his vision expanded. The clearer his vision became, the more Enkrid could assess the situation and what he could gain.

From past battles to recent ones, it was all a recurring pattern. What should he aim for and obtain amidst all this?

There was no point in struggling just to survive today.

‘A battle against superior numbers.’

Not just any numbers, but elite soldiers. How often did you experience that? And to be caught in a trap, unable to escape?

This wasn’t like the tall grass ambush. Back then, he could just avoid it.

Here, he was facing spears, arrows, the captain’s orders, a shielded front line, and arrows raining from the rear.

One wrong step would lead to instant death.

He might dodge a couple of arrows, sure, but how does one dodge a rain of them? It wasn’t like he could deflect every arrow with his sword like some wannabe knight.

In short, there wasn’t even time to practice swordsmanship in a fight against elite soldiers. A fight like this would be over in an instant.

One lapse in focus, and you’d be dead. What did you need to do at such a moment? What weapon could you rely on?

A line connecting the dots. Seeing the dots was a momentary thing, and connecting them even more so. The realization dawned on him.

‘Instant judgment.’

The ability to quickly make decisions in a fleeting moment. Even if they stayed here, the spear unit would be upon them before half a candle burned out.

So what needed to be done?

They had to take the head of that damn crossbow unit's captain and go on a rampage. Without taking out those archers, there was no tomorrow.

“Captain Roger? A messenger?”

It was a tunnel. Without bringing a torch closer, it was hard to make out faces. Recognizing whether they were part of the Azpen Duchy’s forces was even harder.

Even if someone had sharp eyes. How could they clearly see the fast-approaching Enkrid in that short span of time?

“City! The city!”

Enkrid shouted whatever came to mind, anything to further confuse the enemy.

“Shit! A monster!”

The pupils of the captain tasked with blocking the retreat trembled. Though Enkrid couldn’t see it, he didn’t need to.

The important thing was maintaining distance, and the torchlight allowed him to confirm the faces. More importantly, Enkrid knew exactly who the captain was.

That’s why he rushed forward without hesitation.

“Huh? Hey, stop!”

The enemy soldiers at the front tried to shout, but it was far too late. Hadn’t Enkrid been running his mouth this whole time, just to create this brief opening?

He covered dozens of steps in an instant, leaving no time to catch his breath.

Ching!

He drew his sword, gripping it with both hands. Pulling it to the right, he slashed horizontally from right to left, performing an upper-level cross cut. The enemy’s helmet and armor didn’t protect their necks.

The two soldiers standing to his left, who were roughly the same height, couldn’t react.

Slash!

With a single swing, two deep cuts were carved into their necks.

Gush!

Blood sprayed from their severed throats.

“Huh?! Fuck!”

As another soldier panicked and tried to react, Enkrid saw the captain retreating. With his left hand gripping his sword, Enkrid’s right hand swiftly reached for his waist and flung something forward.

Whistle!

It was a Whistling Dagger. Far more dangerous and sharper than ordinary throwing knives, the blade pierced the captain’s leather helmet with a thud.

More than half of the blade was embedded in his skull.

‘If he survives that… he’s not human.’

“Kill him!”

Three or four enemy soldiers drew their short swords with a shing. Enkrid, thankful that the tunnel was wide, removed the buckler from his back and flung it.

Thwack!

The round shield spun through the air and struck a crossbowman’s head a few steps away.

“Urgh!”

By taking the crossbowman out, Enkrid bought himself some time. Then, he pulled his sword close to his chest. Tilting his blade just right, he parried the short swords aimed at him.

Clang! Ting! Ching!

He deflected the attacks using the side of his blade. It wasn’t anything fancy— just basic swordsmanship, using the blade as a makeshift shield.

Then came the next step.

“Hah!”

With a sudden shout, he startled the enemy soldiers, catching them off guard. Analyzing their positions and the direction the crossbows were aimed, he threw himself forward.

Enkrid didn’t just roll away. While rolling, he grabbed one of the enemy’s ankles and yanked it hard.

Crack!

The enemy’s ankle twisted, causing him to lose balance and topple over. Enkrid, coiling his body like a snake, immediately sprang up.

Wrapping his left arm around the soldier’s neck, he twisted the right hand, breaking his wrist. The short sword clattered to the ground.

Thunk.

The dirt floor absorbed the sound of the falling blade.

“Kek.”

Killing the soldier would’ve been amateurish. Keeping him alive was key.

Crossbows were lethal at range, but with a shield, and in close quarters, it was possible to withstand them. And now, in place of the buckler he threw, Enkrid had a human shield.

‘This feels just like the first time.’

Back then, he had also picked up shields on the battlefield. This time was no different. Except now, the shield was a person instead of wood.

As Enkrid leaned against the tunnel wall, the soldiers with crossbows hesitated. The ones with short swords did the same.

“I’m alone! Come at me! Long live Captain Roger! Azpen’s dogs! Are you just carrying those crossbows, or do you know how to shoot them?!”

In the brief moment of silence, Enkrid’s taunting echoed through the tunnel.

“You all afraid of me? A lone man? Is this how Captain Roger taught you?!”

‘They should be moving any second now.’

He wasn’t spewing nonsense for no reason. Even the dumbest of them should’ve acted by now. Sure enough, his expectations were met.

Fwoosh.

With an Ael Karaz-style grapple, it was possible to subdue a person without making even the slightest sound.

The darkness, the torchlight, the noise, and his rambling— all these factors momentarily shielded his movements.

“Shoot him, you bastards!”

“No, wait! Don’t shoot!”

A panicked soldier shouted, while the one caught in Enkrid’s hold yelled in protest.

Now was the perfect time. The longer this dragged on, the more advantageous it became for him.

Back there, Finn was probably knocking out enemies by crushing their windpipes or choking them in the Ael Karaz style.

Meanwhile, Torres was likely picking them off with his crossbow, silently driving bolts into their throats or skulls.

In a head-on battle, the two would be at a disadvantage, but in this kind of situation, the tables had turned. Now, who had the upper hand? Who was really surrounded?

“The day breaks, darkness fades, the sun shines, and the moon dies! Long live Roger! Long live Roger!”

Enkrid kept shouting, singing a makeshift song in a steady rhythm to hide Finn and Torres' movements.

The captain, with a dagger stuck in his head, was already dead, and two more soldiers had been taken out, screaming as they went down.

Despite the chaos unfolding around them, the instigator, Enkrid, kept spouting nonsense. It was enough to drive any soldier to madness.

“Shit, what the hell are we supposed to do?”

One of the enemy soldiers groaned, pondering whether he should just shoot the captured comrade in the head and be done with it.

The captain was dead, and without his orders, they were left floundering.

At that moment—

Thwong!

The distinct sound of a crossbow string snapped through the air.

Thud!

The bolt buried itself deep in the head of the soldier Enkrid had been holding as a shield.

‘Ah.’

In the end, someone pulled the trigger.

“Kill him.”

It must’ve been the soldier who shot that muttered those words. They were a well-trained unit, after all. There was no disagreement to the fact that letting this drag out any longer would only worsen their situation.

“Raise the torches! Behind us!”

And at that moment, Finn and Torres were exposed. It wasn’t as if their enemies were master assassins, so this was inevitable. However, in the meantime, they had taken out six crossbowmen.

‘Not bad.’

How many times had today repeated? Even in the countless loops, they hadn’t taken out six men as effectively as they had this time.

Now for the next part.

Enkrid pushed the body of his human shield forward.

The corpse, its head pierced by a quarrel, shuddered before collapsing. Just as it began to fall, in that fleeting moment, Enkrid pulled out the Whistling Dagger from his waist.

With a flick of his elbow, he snapped his fingers, sending the dagger flying.

There was no wasted movement— his hand moved swiftly and decisively. In the blink of an eye, six daggers flew through the air.

Whistle!

The high-pitched sound of the daggers cutting through the air was followed by

Thud!

Complete silence.

Six more bodies fell.

Now, there were only three left. One crossbowman and two soldiers with short swords, standing in a defensive stance.

Everything had happened in an instant. To the remaining soldiers, it was nothing short of a nightmare. Just as they prepared to make their last stand, a deep, commanding voice echoed through the tunnel.

“Forward.”

The heavy voice resounded from the passageway ahead. Roger, the captain of the spear unit, had arrived. He and his men, thirty elite spearmen, appeared from the opposite side of the tunnel Enkrid and his group had come from.

Their synchronized footsteps shook the ground and the very air around them. The remaining crossbowmen regrouped, while Roger and his unit marched forward, carrying several torches that lit up the tunnel.

Roger remained calm. Even after witnessing the aftermath of his men being slaughtered, his expression was indifferent as he surveyed the scene.

One would expect some shock upon seeing his forces ambushed and beaten back, but there wasn’t a flicker of emotion.

This was a regiment of thirty highly trained spear-wielders. Roger’s eyes briefly met Enkrid’s before turning toward Finn.

“You’ve got the luck of a wildcat, woman.”

“It’s not luck, it’s skill, asshole.”

They glared at each other as if ready to kill. The crackling of the torches was the only sound in the otherwise silent tunnel. From the very first loop, it was clear these two had history.

Enkrid didn’t care much about that. His attention was on Roger and the spear unit, which had paused at a certain distance.

Whoosh.

In a flash, Enkrid moved again. He dashed forward toward the three remaining crossbowmen. With a quick thrust, his sword pierced the neck of another soldier.

Thunk.

As he withdrew his blade, he heard the familiar twang of a crossbow string. Enkrid instinctively ducked.

Whoosh!

The quarrel flew by, barely missing his scalp.

‘That was close.’

He was lucky this time. He hadn’t expected them to fire another shot so quickly. But since luck was on his side, he took full advantage of it.

“I see you.”

He darted toward the crossbowman who had fired at him, but instead of attacking head-on, he swerved at the last second. With another quick motion, he stabbed his sword into the skull of a nearby soldier.

Thud!

The sound of bone splitting echoed as Enkrid yanked the sword free and made a feint backward, pretending to retreat, while his sharp gaze fixated on the last remaining enemy.

Thanks to the additional torchlight brought by Roger’s men, everything was brighter now. Enkrid’s face and eyes were fully visible to the remaining soldier.

Seeing Enkrid’s intense glare, the soldier’s thoughts immediately turned to the rear, thinking there must be someone sneaking up behind him.

After all, several of his comrades had already been killed from behind.

But when he turned to check, all he saw was darkness. The unlit corners of the tunnel, the passage, and bits of loose dirt falling from the ceiling.

The moment he turned back, his eyes caught a glint of metal. The heavy, cold glint of steel.

Thud.

In that instant, Enkrid lunged, stabbing the soldier in the neck and killing him instantly.

It all happened in a flash. Just as Roger was about to give the order to charge, Enkrid spoke again.

“I bring a message from Ressa!”

Roger froze at those words.

Ressa, the sorcerer who had orchestrated this entire event, was named. How could he not be caught off guard?

“Run!”

Without hesitation, Enkrid shouted.

“What?”

Torres instinctively repeated, but despite his confusion, he started running. Finn didn’t even bother responding. She scooped up two crossbows and took off after Enkrid.

“Catch them!”

Roger’s furious roar echoed behind them. The spear unit wasn’t heavy infantry; chasing after them wasn’t impossible.

Once they exited the tunnel, the spearmen could easily level their weapons and run them down. As Enkrid ran, his mind raced through various scenarios.

The same went for Torres and Finn.

Both had many questions about the situation, but there was no time— or breath— to ask.

For now, all they could do was run.

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