WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 134: A Ripened Heart (1)

Under the command of Battalion Commander Marcus, the infantry established a new camp.

The location was a bit farther than their previous position. Enkrid found the placement a bit ambiguous, but he kept his opinion to himself.

After all, setting up the camp and deciding its strategic placement was the commander’s responsibility.

Besides, Marcus didn’t seem like the type to handle things carelessly.

His actions alone—publicly declaring Enkrid the top contributor to their victory—showed his calculated decisiveness.

As the camp shifted, Esther began complaining.

“Nyaaah, nyaaaah!”

She whined incessantly.

‘Now that I think about it, isn’t she a bit strange?’

Though Esther was a spirit beast, she had peculiar qualities that made her seem oddly human at times.

Lately, whenever she opened her mouth, it felt like Enkrid could understand her words perfectly. For instance, right now, it felt as if she were saying,

“Such a bother.”

Enkrid scooped her into his arms to stop her whining. When he had first encountered Esther on the battlefield, she had been a tiny leopard cub.

By the time she saved him—spearing Mitch Hurrier and dragging him away from the mustached knight—she’d grown slightly larger.

Since then, she had stopped growing entirely, remaining just the right size to be cradled in his arms.

And yet, this small leopard had once dragged him by the nape of his neck at a breakneck speed.

What kind of strength was that?

“You’re a beast of incredible strength yourself,” Enkrid said, stroking Esther’s head.

Snarl!

Apparently, she didn’t appreciate the compliment. Esther nipped at his finger—not enough to draw blood but leaving faint teeth marks behind.

If she had been serious…

‘I’d have lost a finger.’

Curious, Enkrid examined her sharp fangs more closely, leaning in to get a better look at her maw. Esther glared at him with clear annoyance, making her seem all the more human-like.

“Let’s move,” called Kraiss from outside the tent.

Building a new camp was a complicated and labor-intensive process.

Shelter needed to be reconstructed, supply routes reevaluated, and perimeter defenses redefined. Scout routes had to be reassigned, and countless other tasks awaited adjustment. Despite the complexity, Marcus had insisted on setting up the new position.

“Hey, squad leader,”

Andrew began, sidling up to Enkrid.

“I’m pretty sure I fought harder than anyone else, but it felt like all the cheers went to you. Is it just me?”

No, it wasn’t just him. The atmosphere of the battlefield had indeed flowed in that direction.

Cheers for the “Mad Platoon,” shouts of “Enkrid!”

When Enkrid thought back to that moment two days ago, at noon, his chest tingled slightly with an unfamiliar warmth. It wasn’t a bad memory.

“Hmm.”

Enkrid remained noncommittal, so Audin spoke up with a chuckle.

“Haha, mad brother, you just took down a Giant. That’s all.”

“A Giant?”

“Brother, I personally smashed through dozens of enemy soldiers.”

Audin wasn’t exaggerating, Enkrid had seen it himself. That brute force, the way Audin wielded his massive club, struck terror into enemies and relief into allies alike.

Of course, some allies who had witnessed Audin up close admitted to feeling a strange fear of him too. Enkrid had heard it directly from Vengeance.

“Hey, that squadmate of yours, the one obsessed with religion. Why does he kill people with a smile? Is it me, or is that just weird?”

Vengeance said, tapping his head with a finger. Enkrid had offered a quick defense, explaining that Audin was simply overjoyed to send souls to the god he worshiped.

“That’s… somehow worse.”

Vengeance muttered.

Still, Enkrid thought it was the best explanation he could give. Calling Audin a “murder-obsessed zealot” would have been far worse.

“If we’d left those ten mercenaries addicted to blade work alone, they could’ve done serious damage.”

Ragna interjected.

His comment seemed to darken the atmosphere. Then, from nearby, Jaxon’s voice cut through,

“Idiots.”

All three turned to glare at him. A sharp tension filled the air, pressing down on the space between them.

It felt like violence could erupt at any moment, a throwback to the Mad Platoon’s typical chaotic dynamic when Enkrid wasn’t around.

But now, Enkrid was here. Kraiss, observing from the side, wasn’t worried. He felt no tension at all.

Without Enkrid, this might have turned dangerous, but since their leader was present, it didn’t bother him.

Andrew, however, hesitated.

Should I step in?

As the squad’s vice-leader, it was his duty to defuse the situation before Enkrid intervened. But the memories of past beatings gave him pause.

Mack, sensing Andrew’s thoughts, tugged on his sleeve and shook his head. It was as if he were silently saying, ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Enkrid gazed upward. The sky had changed with the season. It was clear and blue, free of clouds. It was spring. The weather was pleasant.

“What a perfect day to break up a fight.”

Enkrid decided there was no need to physically step between them this time. Instead, he drew his swords.

Schiiing.

One blade with his right hand.

Ting!

The other with his left.

The right-hand sword swung downward in a clean, vertical slash aimed at Rem’s head.

The left-hand sword swept horizontally, targeting Jaxon. Enkrid advanced with his left foot, letting his right follow, executing a modified move he had been practicing for days.

The technique was inspired by Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship but adjusted for dual blades.

Instead of feinting with the first strike, both cuts were meant to carry weight.

The right-hand slash stopped as Rem deflected it with his axe.

The left-hand slash hit nothing but air as Jaxon had already retreated.

One blade was halted, the other rendered useless. Enkrid sheathed his swords with deliberate calm.

“What the hell was that?”

Jaxon asked.

“You looking for a fight? Sounds fun,” Rem added, clearly entertained, his tone tinged with glee.

As Enkrid moved suddenly, Esther, nestled against his chest, let out an irritated cry as she was jostled.

“Let’s take this elsewhere.”

Enkrid said, his expression calm, his tone firm. Fighting here, in the middle of their camp, would be absurd. Satisfied, Rem sheathed his axe and nodded.

It was another peaceful day for the Mad Platoon. Enkrid put away his swords, calmed Esther, and resumed walking.

“At least that’s over.”

If someone had forced him to carry supplies on top of everything, his irritation would have flared even more.

Fortunately, the Mad Platoon’s load was significantly lighter than other units.

“Heroes of this battle deserve better,” Marcus had declared boldly, allowing them to carry only their personal equipment. Meanwhile, other units hauled the materials needed for tents and supplies.

This naturally slowed their pace, but Marcus didn’t seem in any rush. While Enkrid’s earlier clash with his squadmates had drawn attention, most soldiers quickly returned to their tasks.

They’ve seen us bicker before—it’s nothing new. As Enkrid walked, he pondered their next move.

Will we strike the enemy’s rear next?

He voiced his thoughts to Kraiss, who shook his head.

“They won’t,” Kraiss said confidently.

“Why not?”

If they had the advantage, wouldn’t hitting the rear deal a decisive blow? Kraiss sighed and explained, his tone casual,

“If we attack their rear now, the enemy will learn the size and position of our forces and adjust accordingly. They’ll send reinforcements to counter us, likely a unit strong enough to turn the tide. If their heavy hitters—Giants, assassins, and mercenary groups—have failed, what do you think they’ll send next?”

“Knights.”

Enkrid answered without hesitation.

“At least squire-level troops, maybe a small elite force. It’s not about fear, though. This is about gaining the most advantage with the least loss. If we stay here and hold our position, we pressure the enemy without spending resources. Meanwhile, Marcus and the main forces will push forward. The enemy will be too tied up to redirect troops toward us.”

Enkrid nodded, accepting the logic.

Holding ground made sense. For now, all they had to do was wait. The Mad Platoon gathered at the edge of the camp.

“Rem,” Enkrid called.

It didn’t matter who went first, but by unspoken agreement, it was always Rem. The wild glint in his eyes warned everyone of what might happen otherwise.

As Ragna lounged nearby on a warmed rock, Jaxon, Audin, Andrew, and Mack turned their attention to Enkrid.

“Let’s begin.”

Rem grinned, flashing his sharp canines.

This is my squad leader. His smile seemed to say it all. Though satisfied, a thought crossed Rem’s mind,

I hope this guy doesn’t die.

“Fair warning,” Rem said, his tone light but firm. “You could die doing this.”

“Fine by me,” Enkrid replied without hesitation.

Death wasn’t an obstacle to him.

His life was a cycle, each day repeating, each moment a chance to claw closer to his distant dreams.

His eyes gleamed with fervor and determination. Rem’s gaze mirrored his. When had he last met someone like this?

Never.

This man, this human—he truly was insane. Rem chuckled darkly.

“Let’s do it. Let’s see if we can kill each other.”

And so, the session began.

For Enkrid, it was time to absorb what he had witnessed from Rem during their fight with the Giant.

His heart raced with excitement, yet his mind stayed calm. This strange harmony of anticipation and serenity was a sure sign.

The Heart of the Beast had ripened fully.

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