WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 111: Swollen Cheeks

‘No way I can just leave things as they are.’

It had been unexpected that the Elf Company Commander had taken the entire Troublemaker Squad with her. Now, they were Platoon Members, not just squad members anymore.

If Enkrid hadn’t seen the empty lodgings with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. Even Kraiss, who had been away from the barracks for several days, must have had no idea.

That’s probably why he had asked for Ragna.

‘Guess I’m lucky I wasn’t dragged into the deployment.’

Maybe it was a favor to leave Kraiss behind because Enkrid had stayed back. Or had he just used the excuse that he would join up later?

In any case, Kraiss had been left behind, and the squad members were gone. Enkrid would have to save him alone.

There was no way to recall the squad members who had already gone to the battlefield. As for mobilizing the Standing Army for something internal to Gielpin’s guild?

‘Not a chance.’

Like they would help. Sure, maybe if there was someone you could count on, but who would that be? Perhaps the Elf Company Commander could, but even if she stayed, it would be a risky gamble.

How about Torres? As the Platoon Leader of the Frontier Slaughterers, it might be difficult to help in an official capacity, but perhaps as an individual...

‘But the Frontier Slaughterers are about to deploy as well, with only a few left behind.’

The fact that they had let Enkrid rest for a day after filing his return report showed how much the unit cared for him. Maybe it meant that they valued what he had achieved in his recent mission.

Enkrid shook his head slightly from side to side. His thoughts were cluttered with random ideas. He just needed to focus on what needed to be done.

What was there to do here?

“We're going to save Kraiss. Yes, that big-eyed guy.”

He said this while stroking Esther, who had nestled into his chest.

Esther kept glancing at him, her expression curious, so Enkrid clarified again, saying that the friend with big eyes was the one they were rescuing.

It was a goal spoken aloud for no reason. Hearing that, Esther gazed at him with her clear, lake-blue eyes. Enkrid met her gaze with his own eyes, a similar shade of blue.

“What?”

Of course, Esther didn’t respond.

How could a leopard talk?

Still, it felt as if her gaze was asking something—like she was wondering if saving Kraiss was really the only reason for going.

“Not entirely.”

Enkrid revealed a part of his true feelings.

He wanted to test his strength, which had been boiling up intensely ever since his encounters with Lycanthropes, the Gray Hounds of Azpen, and the sorcerer.

He was driven by the urge to assess his own skills, to see how far his sword could reach.

‘How much have I improved?’

He didn’t know. He had no sense of it. That’s how it always was. You only understand when you see, but every day was new for Enkrid.

He was like an explorer discovering new lands daily. A pathfinder, always forging new paths. A climber scaling mountains for the first time, a hunter treading on hunting grounds he had never seen before.

Even though he followed signposts, he never knew exactly where he stood.

That’s why, upon hearing that Frog had shown up, he had calmly evaluated his condition, rested for a full day, and set out only now.

Frog seemed like the perfect person to help him gauge where he was.

‘Will my sword work?’

The last time he encountered Frog, a single blow had shattered his ribs, making his body protest his own weakness.

But what about now?

Not all Frogs were the same.

‘Still.’

There could hardly be a more suitable opponent for comparison. If he failed, Frog would become the wall blocking his progress today—but that was fine. It didn’t bother him.

If any squad member had been around, he wouldn’t have had to do this. That’s why this was something only Enkrid could handle now.

Was it ironic?

Or was it luck?

Or maybe it was just another bout of misfortune. Misfortune, after all, was always like a friend trailing behind him.

It was up to him to swim through the rivers of misfortune.

Thinking about Rem and the other squad members made Enkrid realize just how narrow his view of the world had been.

‘Ridiculous.’

At one time, he had considered his squad members to be mid-rank soldiers or above. Mid-rank? How laughable. A joke, really.

None of his squad members were confined by the soldier ranking system. He knew that now. If any of them were here, there’d be no reason to fear a mere Frog.

‘But right now, it’s just me.’

He couldn’t abandon Kraiss. Nor did he want to back down. As he took a step with his left foot, he thought of the days he had sparred with Rem.

With his right foot, he remembered everything he had learned from Jaxon. His left foot again brought Audin to mind. With his right, he recalled Ragna.

Every step he took reminded him of what he had learned so far. All the instructors he had met, the countless repetitions of today. Facing Frog, there was no fear. Perhaps it was the Heart of the Beast at work.

Calmness, boldness, and beyond that—an emerging sense of eagerness to fight.

Enkrid’s pupils flickered like flames.

Tack.

Esther tapped his chest with her paw, as if telling him, ‘Not yet.’

“I know.”

Enkrid answered, walking forward, and soon they arrived at the mansion. Gielpin, the bald man, was waiting.

“Where is he?”

“The reception room.”

Where was the reception room again?

Following Gielpin’s lead into the mansion, Enkrid stopped in front of the reception room door.

‘Am I about to charge to my death?’

Or was it just his thrill-seeking nature driving him crazy?

He didn’t know. The answer lay beyond the door. Esther slipped out from his chest and bounced off to the side. Watching her, Enkrid thought,

‘Will this guy be someone I can talk to?’

The fact that Frog had kept Kraiss alive so far suggested that might be the case. He probably could talk.

That didn’t change the fact that Frog needed to be subdued first. He had come to fight, after all. What would be the point of talking?

Enkrid took a short breath, deciding to skip the conversation and speak through action.

Bam!

He kicked the door open, rolled forward, and flung something with his right hand. A Whistling Dagger cut through the air, flying at terrifying speed.

Whistle!

The sharp sound followed, and almost immediately, Frog’s arm flashed into motion like lightning.

Was this guy insane?

A presence, followed by killing intent. Killing intent was always accompanied by an attack. There was no hesitation.

It was as if he had planned the whole sequence before even standing in front of the door. The door was kicked open, and Frog saw the guy’s arm move.

The moment he saw the flying blade, Frog instinctively drew his weapon and knocked it aside. For a normal human, such a move would have been like a circus stunt.

But not for Frog.

Whoosh, shwick. Thud!

He deflected the flying dagger with the flat of his blade. The Whistling Dagger embedded itself in a crude leather ornament hanging on the wall.

Then, the man who had thrown the dagger charged, drawing his sword in a single fluid motion.

Sching!

The blade drew a powerful arc from high to low. Frog hooked his finger into the loop attached to his sword’s hilt.

Frog’s slippery skin often prevented him from properly gripping weapons, so he had invented a weapon he named the Loop Sword.

When it took the form of a sword, it became the Loop Sword. He hooked his finger into the ring and bent it so that his three rounded fingers met the palm of his hand.

From there, he just had to swing.

Whoosh, clang!

The clash of steel echoed, signaling the start. Soon, swords clashed and danced, the sound of their collisions playing an orchestra of steel.

Tattattattattattang!

Sparks flew through the air as a barrage of attacks followed at a monstrous speed.

Frog, who had blocked more than thirty of Enkrid’s attacks while occasionally countering, found himself impressed by the opponent.

‘This guy is interesting.’

Kraiss sat in the corner, neither bound nor broken, but he knew escape wasn’t an option. It had only been two days, but Frog’s brute strength had been on full display.

He barely slept, always staying near.

Kraiss could relieve himself and eat without issue, even sharing meals with the bastard Frog.

But running away? That was a different story.

‘What would happen if I ran?’

Everyone would die. All of the remaining guild members.

If he got caught, Kraiss would end up as just another piece of meat lying next to the dead guild members. Frog was definitely the kind to do something like that.

Though they had said Frog would come much later in spring, here he was, earlier than expected.

Kraiss had placed his faith in one thing. If even one or two of the squad members came, they could figure something out.

That’s why he had named Rem, Audin, Jaxon, or Ragna.

‘Not the Platoon Leader!’

When the door opened, Kraiss had felt hope. But when he saw who had come charging in, he had felt disappointment.

Now, though, his mouth hung open in shock.

‘What’s going on?’

Tattattattattattang!

The continuous sound of clashing steel threatened to tear apart the reception room. All Kraiss could see were arcs of light, trails left by the blades.

The sparks flying between them were all that stood out.

What was this?

It was certainly the Platoon Leader who had entered, but this Platoon Leader—

‘Is holding his own against Frog?’

It didn’t even seem like he was losing. At least, not to Kraiss’s eyes. Enkrid watched the opponent’s strangely curved weapon, carefully parrying with his own sword.

Thud!

The impact rippled through his forearm, spreading across his body.

Relying purely on strength would have been foolish. He deflected the force, mixing in techniques from the Flowing Sword Style. What had seemed like impossible maneuvers before were now within his grasp.

Crack!

He redirected Frog’s blade to the side, then thrust forward with his own sword. Whoosh went the blade as it cut through the air.

Frog quickly struck back.

Tadang!

Block. Block, deflect, and dodge again.

How was this even possible?

It was thanks to his experience fighting the sorcerer’s thorny vines. The countless battles had trained Enkrid’s body to move his sword, dodge, and block naturally.

The foundation was defense.

Block and block again.

Frog’s weapon was a broad, hunting-knife-like blade—a typical weapon favored by Frogs.

Most Loop Swords followed this form.

The weight of the weapon was something else, but Frog wielded it as if it were a rapier, a testament to his exceptional strength.

Enkrid lost himself in the rhythm of the swordfight. His sword, and the opponent’s sword.

Connecting point to point, lines formed, bending and crashing down like a bolt of lightning.

That’s what Frog’s weapon was like. Enkrid accepted the falling lightning with his sword.

Unable to fully deflect it, his knees bent slightly. But as he absorbed the force, he gracefully brought his sword down in a counterattack.

Frog stepped back half a step and thrust his weapon forward. A broad blade executing a thrust.

It was unconventional.

Yet, to Enkrid, it felt as sharp as a spear. His sense of the blade danced at the edge of that thrust.

While Enkrid had always been somewhat sensitive to such movements, the training with Jaxon had sharpened his instincts even more.

And so, in the world where only he, the opponent, and their swords existed,

Enkrid lost track of time.

Blocking and blocking again.

When he saw an opening, he would thrust, slash, and cut. He mixed in techniques from the Vallen Style Mercenary Swordsmanship.

Pretending to slash only to stop and thrust instead.

It had become a swordsmanship that was now ingrained in him. After the Heavy Sword Style, this was a continuation of his training.

Frog batted away anything lesser with brute strength. His superior physical strength made that possible. His enhanced physical capabilities and reflexes were also key factors.

Tadang! Ping! Thud!

Some blows were dodged, others deflected. One of Frog’s swings grazed Enkrid’s cheek, while Frog’s fist struck against Enkrid’s armor.

Enkrid blocked the punch with his sword and countered by thrusting at Frog’s heart. Frog twisted his body mid-spin, dodging.

“Grrr!”

Frog let out a growl, frothing at the mouth with excitement. Enkrid remained silent, exhaling no battle cries.

His focus was absolute. He focused entirely on one thing.

‘Don’t scatter your energy.’

Gather and concentrate it.

He didn’t dodge by watching the sword—he dodged by relying on the feel of the blade. As those moments stretched on, Enkrid found himself stepping into a new world.

The way Frog’s fingers were hooked into the ring,

the slight shifts in the soles of his broad

feet,

the violent muscles hidden beneath his slippery skin—

All of this became clear to Enkrid. In response, his hand moved, his arm extended. His feet shifted, and his torso twisted.

A moment of total concentration.

When he forgot the points and the lines they created, when he focused purely on the flow of the battle,

Enkrid saw the outcome of the fight a split second ahead. Maybe it was just a fleeting image. But because he saw it, he knew.

Because he felt it, he knew that his victory lay in that moment.

Enkrid acted immediately.

Up until now, he had aimed for Frog’s heart at every opportunity. No, he had aimed only for the heart.

This thrust was no different. It was a thrust filled with the determination to pierce through, cutting through space like a beam of light.

Frog stepped back with his right foot, dodging with his footwork.

Ping. Scratch.

The blade grazed Frog’s Heart Armor. Upon seeing this, Frog’s cheeks puffed out.

Bruuk!

Did he just graze my heart?

Unable to control his rage, Frog’s blade came down toward Enkrid’s neck, even faster than before.

It was a strike like lightning. A split-second window to act. Enkrid pulled back his thrusting sword.

Taaang!

The two swords met in mid-air, halting the rapid exchange.

“You think you can fight me with brute strength? Stupid human,” Frog growled like a beast.

Instead of answering, Enkrid recreated the move he had envisioned.

‘Like this.’

Ting.

In that halted moment, he bent his knees slightly, softening his stance. As he absorbed Frog’s strength, he blended the Flowing Sword with the Correct and Precise Sword.

Frog’s overconfidence in his strength made it seem like his blade would split Enkrid’s head in half, starting at the forehead.

“Shit, Platoon Leader!”

Kraiss’s shout rang out, but both ignored him. At that moment, Enkrid applied force to his sword and pushed Frog’s blade forward, redirecting it.

Tingtingting!

Enkrid’s sword slid along Frog’s, rushing forward. For a split second, Frog’s stance wavered, as he had relied too much on brute force.

Reflexively, Frog raised his right forearm, blocking his chest. If Enkrid had aimed for the heart again, it would have been another meaningless blow. So instead,

Enkrid’s sword drew a smooth arc.

Slice.

This time, he aimed for Frog’s left arm.

Frog dodged, but not entirely. Blood sprayed out, though the arm wasn’t severed completely.

Enkrid’s blade had cut through Frog’s slippery skin. Meanwhile, Frog’s puffed-up cheeks swelled even more, and his blade moved.

He wasn’t going to just take a hit. His broad blade swung down again. Enkrid raised his right hand to block it. The blade fell onto the gauntlet he had taken from the sewer-loving sorcerer.

Thwack! Crack.

A horrible sound rang out as the blade was deflected to the side. The gauntlet’s surface was cut and slashed, but his wrist remained intact.

It was a combination of the deflection technique he had learned from Audin and the extreme durability of the gauntlet.

“You’re a crazy bastard.”

Frog muttered.

His left arm dangled, still bleeding. Even with his regenerative abilities, this wasn’t something he could enjoy.

Bleeding heavily, Frog glared with terrifying eyes.

‘Ah.’

Enkrid sensed the end of "today."

His right wrist had lost its strength, and he had dropped his sword. Though he caught it with his left hand, how much longer could he last?

He didn’t know.

But for now, he was satisfied with that final strike. He had aimed for the heart, creating an opening for a successful hit.

That alone felt like an achievement.

Frog was a natural judge of talent. Looking at Enkrid, Frog felt a deep unease.

Why? Was it because his talent was exceptional?

No. It was because Enkrid was a type he had never encountered before. He had to be killed.

He had to die.

The human appeared to be reaching his limit, but how had he managed to pull off such a move?

He had used Frog’s own downward slash against him, constantly aiming for his heart.

‘And that’s how he got my left arm?’

In that brief moment, the human had absorbed the force by bending his knees, shifting his weight, and pushing forward with his foot as if scratching the ground.

He had bet everything on that one move, and it had worked against Frog.

If Enkrid’s right wrist had been in perfect condition—

‘Would I have lost?’

Frog’s cheeks swelled even more. He had to kill him. His blade rose once more. One final strike, and it would all be over.

Enkrid remained calm. Frog found his composure even more irritating.

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