WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 106: Dodge and Dodge Again

It was when he had parted ways with Leona Rockfreed. In front of the walls of the Border Guard fortress, a bodyguard named Matthias drew everyone’s attention in an instant.

It was clearly intentional. It was what they called “presence.”

“Killing intent is all about presence. Once you open the Gate of the Sixth Sense, you can do it. It’s easy. Though, for someone like the Platoon Leader, it might be a bit tricky.”

Damn Jaxon. His words were sharp, as if his tongue had been forged in a blacksmith’s shop. Every sentence was a blade in disguise.

Not that Enkrid really cared about what he said. He just dismissed him as a crazy bastard. In the end, though, Jaxon had been right.

Enkrid had opened his Sixth Sense.

Even though he had tried using something like it during the cat-catching mission, mastering it had been difficult.

But this time, he had gotten the hang of it. Once he relaxed his shoulders, it came surprisingly easily.

He had used it when he told Torres and Finn to be careful, raising his presence to add weight to his words.

And now,

“Move aside. I’ll distract them.”

“What?”

Finn reacted instantly.

“What the hell are you saying?”

Torres also shot back.

They had only known each other for a short time, and neither of them had much reason to put their lives on the line for each other.

“Shit, Rangers don’t abandon their comrades.”

“Same here.”

But for some reason, both of them seemed unusually committed. Their eyes shone with determination.

Sure, you’re both good people. I get it.

But,

“Get lost. You’re in the way.”

Enkrid was cold. He didn’t have time to explain everything. He had tried explaining in other loops, but,

Like ticks, they wouldn’t let go.

“…Why does that sound cool?”

Finn muttered.

“This asshole?”

Torres flared up but got the message, as did Finn. Enkrid was dead serious.

“Wait at the maximum range, and when it's done, regroup. I have a plan. We can all make it out alive.”

It was practically an order. He had done this several times before, and showing resolve was more effective than explaining every detail. There was no time for that.

Soon enough,

“See you later.”

Torres spoke with a hint of dual meaning and then moved aside first.!Finn hesitated, looking back twice, but followed.

As Enkrid watched them go, he thought.

Even if they separated, he needed all the spear-wielding soldiers to chase him. How could he make that happen?

He already knew the answer. Enkrid glanced back once and shouted.

“Roger, take off your helmet!”

To anyone else, these words would have meant nothing.

“Roger! The one who sent my hair to the heavens before my soul!”

Like a bard reciting poetry, Enkrid shouted with a booming voice.

During one of his seventy-eight iterations of today, he had learned about Roger. While the reason for his grudge with Finn was different, there was one thing he knew.

Roger was famous for never taking off his helmet. It was something that had stuck with him. From the top of his head to his forehead, a desert stretched across his scalp.

It was his greatest shame.

“Do you carry a barren wasteland on your head?”

At first, Enkrid hadn’t been sure this would work. It had been easy enough to confirm. In one of the previous loops, when Roger had captured him, he had managed to knock off Roger’s helmet by chance.

“You’re bald.”

That one comment had made Roger’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. In conclusion, he had to redirect Roger’s rage toward himself and away from Finn.

‘I feel a bit bad about it.’

Enkrid ran his hand through his own thick black hair, letting the strands slide between his fingers.

“That son of a bitch…”

Roger’s eyes went wild. If he were caught now, it wouldn’t be a simple death. Torture was a certainty. So Enkrid ran, and even though Roger saw Finn and Torres retreating, he gave the order.

“Catch that bastard!”

Fueled by fury, twenty-nine spear-wielding soldiers charged after him. Even in his rage, Roger would eventually think to split his forces and stick a spear through Finn and Torres’ necks as well.

‘Almost time.’

Just as the thought crossed Enkrid’s mind, from the opposite direction, the lycanthropes let out a howl.

Awooooooo!

The dual moons illuminated the night, and the surroundings were bright. The moonlight revealed the charging figures of the monsters, their hulking forms clear in the distance.

They were Lycanthropes, monsters with the heads of wolves, running on two legs as they sprinted toward them.

“Hah.”

Enkrid exhaled, steadying his breath before coming to a stop. This was his gamble. He had to pit the spear unit and the lycanthropes against each other.

‘Focus on me.’

The art of projecting presence. It meant pouring all of your killing intent into your entire being. You had to believe, with all your heart, that you could kill everyone in your vicinity.

Shing.

He gripped his sword hilt, slowly drawing the blade. The moonlight gleamed off the steel as it came into view.

Enkrid stepped forward with his right foot, signaling with his entire body.

Approach me, and I will cut you down.

Presence, killing intent, and pressure.

Call it what you will, but an invisible force rippled outward, palpable to anyone nearby. Both the spear unit and the lycanthropes, which had forgotten about Finn and Torres, were drawn to this aura.

They surged toward Enkrid, as if compelled by some magnetic force. At the center of it all, Enkrid stood. To any observer, it might have seemed like a suicide mission.

Roger was getting annoyed. This whole thing had gone awry because of one wildcat of a woman. Should he just let her go?

No. He wanted to kill her. She had killed his brother, after all.

“Damn it, chase them!”

He had made up his mind. He was going to kill her, no matter what. But just as he was about to give the command, Enkrid’s voice rang out.

“Take off your helmet,” “barren wasteland”— those words stabbed at his very core. His heart pounded. Rage boiled his blood.

“That son of a bitch…”

Roger made a decision.

When he caught that bastard, he wouldn’t kill him quickly. He would make him beg for death. His reason vanished, and he yelled for his men to give chase.

Even Roger himself began to run after him.

But then,

Awoooo!

A monster’s howl split the air. Roger’s rage flared as he saw the lycanthrope pack emerging from the other side.

‘Damn it.’

How had things ended up like this?

‘That bastard.’

This was all that asshole’s fault, for mocking him about his hair. Because of that bastard’s taunts, he had lost his focus for just a moment.

“Damn…”

Roger cursed under his breath, trying to regain his composure, but it wasn’t easy.

So what should he do?

The answer came to him quickly.

‘Kill them all.’

Whether Ressa cared about these beasts or not, it didn’t matter. Monsters were just monsters.

If they formed a proper formation, even a colony of lycanthropes could be handled. Just as he was about to give the command,

The one they had been chasing exhaled, stopped, and drew his sword. He stood still, but his body screamed with intent. His presence screamed with intent.

‘Come any closer, and I’ll cut you down.’

In Roger’s eyes, everything else faded. Only the figure of the man with the drawn sword remained. If even Roger could only see him, what must the other soldiers have been thinking?

Without thinking about tactics or formations, they were caught up in the aura and the battle began.

No command to stop was given. The spearmen at the front did what they always did— when they saw an enemy, they fought.

And so,

Whoosh!

One soldier thrust his spear with all his might.

Awooooo!

Clang!

Just as the spear was about to land, a lycanthrope’s claw swiped it aside.

The clash of wolf howls and claws against spears created a dissonant cacophony.

The noise snapped Roger back to his senses, a sliver of cold logic cutting through his anger.

‘Damn.’

They had rushed in without properly forming ranks. He had been too hasty. No, it was that bastard’s taunts that had thrown him off.

And that overwhelming presence…

Everything had spiraled into chaos.

Whoosh.

The first to reach Enkrid was a lycanthrope. Its claws swiped at his throat. Watching its broad arm swing down, Enkrid stepped back.

“Hoo.”

He steadied his breathing. He couldn’t afford to be gasping for breath in a situation like this.

This was a narrow path between cliffs. There was no room for mistakes, no margin for error, and no space for carelessness.

What did he need in a situation like this?

‘Boldness, and’

The Heart of the Beast began to beat.

Thump.

Though he was surrounded by lycanthropes charging from one side and the spear unit from the other, Enkrid remained calm.

There were enemies on all sides, and yet, he felt no reason to panic. After all, he had crafted this battlefield.

‘Now, what’s next?’

He sharpened his senses. Beyond the five basic senses, he reached into the realm of the Sixth Sense. He had to dodge claws and spears coming from behind.

And he did.

Enkrid stepped forward with his left foot, sweeping his sword to the side. It wasn’t a powerful slash, but

Clang!

It was enough to deflect the claws of the lycanthrope lunging at him.

Pivoting on his left foot, he executed a northern-style passing step, spinning to the side. Normally, at this point, the next move would be a heavy downward slash to break the arm or weapon of the enemy attacking from behind.

‘Forward again.’

But instead of attacking, Enkrid ducked low.

Whoosh!

The lycanthrope’s claws slashed through the air above his head.

By now, Enkrid had half-closed his eyes. His vision blurred intentionally, making it look as if his gaze was unfocused, like the dull stare of a fish out of water.

‘Focus.’

Instead of concentrating on one opponent, Enkrid widened his awareness, choosing a method that would allow him to survive.

‘Spread it wider.’

He sharpened his focus, spreading it outward. His attention expanded to encompass his entire body, including the area where his sword would strike.

Victory or defeat in battle came down to judgment, distance, time, and position. He made snap judgments in each moment.

He gauged the distance between himself and his enemies. He measured the time it would take for his feet to move and for his enemies’ weapons to reach him.

He calculated how long it would take his sword to strike where he wanted it to go. He assessed the position of his current stance and where he would need to step next.

With that, Enkrid danced alone amidst the chaos.

Clang, clang!

Every so often, the claws of a lycanthrope clashed with his blade. At times, spearheads scraped against the side of his gambeson.

Claws swiped near his neck, and enemies tried to stomp on his feet.

But Enkrid cut no one down.

When an enemy closed in and almost stepped on his toes, he simply gave them a light shove with his shoulder.

And the result,

“Guh!”

A soldier’s dying scream followed.

The soldier he had shoved stumbled into the path of a lycanthrope, which immediately sank its fangs into his neck.

Blood sprayed out, splattering across the monster’s face. That hadn’t been his intention. He dodged again, and again.

Growl!

When a lycanthrope tried to bite his shoulder, he crouched low to avoid it.

Snap!

Hearing the sound of the monster’s jaws snapping shut, he rose and pushed it backward.

And that,

Thud, thud, thud!

Graaagh!

Caused a spear to pierce the belly of the lycanthrope that had been targeting him. Enkrid wasn’t attacking; he was fully focused on dodging.

Circling the outer edges of the battlefield, he slipped away unnoticed, leaving the lycanthropes to fight the spear-wielding soldiers.

The lycanthropes had no choice but to focus on the soldiers in front of them, while the spear unit had no choice but to defend themselves from the rampaging monsters.

And all of this unfolded right before the eyes of Torres and Finn.

“...That guy.”

“He’s crazy. Absolutely nuts.”

Torres and Finn took turns muttering to themselves. They had forgotten their own situation and stopped in their tracks, their eyes fixed on a single figure— Enkrid.

He dodged and dodged again.

Every now and then, a spear grazed him, or a claw nicked his skin, but he managed to avoid any fatal wounds. More importantly, look at what he had achieved with just a few words and a surge of killing intent.

The battlefield had devolved into utter chaos. A brawl had broken out between the monsters and the elite soldiers.

“The humans are probably going to win, right?”

Even though the formation had collapsed, the soldiers were still elites.

Groups of three or four gathered together, covering each other’s backs.

They used their shields to defend and their spears to strike, regaining some of the energy they had lost during their charge.

It was working.

And then, Roger moved. He single-handedly fought off two or three lycanthropes, driving his spear through the head of one.

Abandoning his long spear for a short one, he fought with the ferocity of a tiger.

“If we leave him alone…”

Finn didn’t need to see it to know that Roger was now heading straight for Enkrid.

She could tell his eyes were filled with murderous rage. He had always gone berserk whenever someone made fun of his hair.

“Damn lunatic.”

“We need to go help him.”

Torres shouted, coming to a decision as Finn muttered to herself. Meanwhile, Roger, the enemy commander, charged forward at terrifying speed, thrusting his short spear at Enkrid.

“Agh.”

Finn let out a small scream when she saw it. From her perspective, it looked as though the spear had pierced Enkrid’s side.

“Shit… no, he dodged it.”

Torres spoke up. He was right. It had only been an illusion.

Enkrid had trapped the spear between his arm and side, catching it with his armpit. It looked like a close call, like he had barely avoided it.

To Torres, it appeared like an incredibly narrow escape.

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