WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 141: Rem of the Mad Charge

“Move the base forward. We can’t leave things as they are. Let’s seize the forest area and strike from the rear.”

“What are you saying? If we march in, what about retreat? Do you have any idea how many rear-guard troops Azpen has?”

“Then what? Are you suggesting we just let that guerrilla unit run rampant?”

“Leaving them unchecked is already lowering morale.”

It was a strategic meeting. Around the central table, company commanders and their aides argued loudly.

The 1st Company Commander, Graham, was in favor of advancing.

Paltor, however, proposed a different approach. The 3rd Company Commander, Rayon, had been killed by an elf assassin in the previous battle, leaving his position vacant.

In his stead, the 1st Platoon Leader of the 3rd Company had stepped up, though he kept his mouth shut throughout the meeting.

The rest of the attendees were Marcus’ lieutenants who were presenting, verifying, and cross-checking opinions. Watching them, the elf company commander thought all of it was a waste of time.

The problem was clear.

‘The enemy has someone with a brain on their side.’

And on their own side? Nobody.

Battalion Commander Marcus had earned the nickname "War Maniac."

Contrary to his nickname, he wasn’t stupid—his attitude toward Enkrid made that obvious.

He knew how to uplift his subordinates, manage morale, and read the battlefield atmosphere.

Compared to the previous battalion commander, Marcus was practically an archangel. However, he wasn’t a strategist.

When Marcus needed to turn the tide of battle, what did he do?

Brilliant strategies? No. He either took the field himself or unleashed a powerful armed unit. Take the previous battles as an example. The two "blades" he relied on were:

The 1st Company, a heavily armored unit.

The Frontier Defense Unit, under his direct command.

This made Marcus a commander who prioritized brute strength over tactics. On the other hand, the enemy—

‘They’re definitely thinkers.’

The elf company commander had lived long enough to gather extensive experience. In such cases, rash reactions often led to traps.

What if this was bait to lure them further in? If the main force advanced deeper, only to encounter an enemy ambush, the situation would turn catastrophic.

Even gathering intelligence wasn’t easy in this enemy-controlled territory. Deploying reconnaissance deeper into enemy lines would only lead to a high-stakes chase along the ridgelines.

Ignoring the enemy and hitting their rear? It might not be a bad idea. To the west lay the Cross Guard. To the northeast was the enemy’s main force.

What should they do?

If they couldn’t decide, holding their position seemed the safest option. After all, their mere presence was already threatening the enemy’s main forces. Ignoring the enemy’s provocations might be the wisest move.

Bang!

Marcus slammed his fist onto the table, causing game pieces and a few pins on the map to topple over.

“To put it bluntly, are you saying we can neither advance nor retreat? Then tell me, what can we do?”

Even he found the situation frustrating. By now, the main force should have crushed the enemy and turned back. Instead, they were stuck in this prolonged battle.

Meanwhile, the enemy guerrilla units kept poking at their forces, which was driving him to come up with a plan to eliminate them. But all the suggestions were nonsense.

In the end, the strategy meeting wrapped up with no meaningful conclusions.

As the elf company commander returned to their barracks after the unproductive meeting, a strange figure stood in their path—a platoon leader with twin swords hanging from their waist.

Resting one hand on a sword and lowering their head in salute, the platoon leader, Enkrid, opened their mouth.

“I would like to propose a tactical suggestion and request temporary operational authority.”

The elf stared at Enkrid, noting the man’s handsome face, and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what his suggestion was.

In her view, Enkrid didn’t seem like the type to rely on complex strategies. He was straightforward, preferring to fight head-on.

“If you’ve come to propose marriage, your timing is poor, Platoon Leader.”

She joked in her usual manner. Having grown accustomed to such humor, Enkrid replied with a straight face.

“This is about military strategy.”

Could the suggestion of a mere platoon leader be ignored? No, it couldn’t.

Regardless of her personal fondness for him, Enkrid had proven himself in every battle so far.

“Speak.”

Enkrid, keeping his explanation concise, proposed:

“Give me temporary command to disrupt the enemy’s camp.”

“And?”

“I’ll need one skilled scout for navigation.”

“That’s it?”

“In addition, the main force should start moving westward.”

The elf tilted her head, signaling him to continue.

Enkrid explained the current position of their forces, the possible impact of their movements on the enemy, and the outcomes they could achieve based on those observations.

“What if it goes against expectations?”

“Then we retreat.”

The strategy was, in essence, a fallback plan. The elf company commander wasn’t a fool—she quickly realized it was the most viable approach given their current circumstances.

‘Not bad.’

No, it wasn’t just "not bad"—it seemed like the best option under the circumstances. Even though the plan appeared simple, combining its elements could yield significant results.

If luck was on their side, and if Enkrid personally led his platoon, the chances of success would be higher.

“You’re doing this yourself?”

The elf asked.

“No.”

Enkrid shook his head. He had no intention of stealing credit from one of his subordinates.

“This is Kraiss’ idea.”

Kraiss had suggested it out of frustration, hoping it might work. Even if it didn’t, he figured the command staff would have their own ideas.

But as it turned out, this was exactly the suggestion they needed.

“Very well.”

The elf left those words and walked off toward Marcus’ command tent, where the strategic meeting had taken place earlier. Soon, the army’s movements changed. The troops began vacating their positions and preparing for a march.

In the meantime, Enkrid armed his platoon and addressed them briefly. He wasn’t one for long speeches.

“Rem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want to hunt down that archer?”

Rem’s eyebrow twitched—a sign of satisfaction.

“Sounds good to me.”

The smile that followed seemed to carry the scent of blood.

“Just a warm-up. Anyone want to sit this one out?”

Enkrid met the eyes of each soldier: Ragna, Audin, Jaxon, Andrew, and Mack. If anyone had wanted to back out, he would have let them.

But none did.

Additionally—

“This is Finn. She’s joining the platoon today.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Finn, a skilled ranger, had been reassigned as a squad leader.

Originally part of the light-armored archer division, her previous unit had been absorbed into the 2nd Company, leaving her position unclear.

As a result, she was transferred to Enkrid’s platoon.

The situation felt awkward—less than ten soldiers, and now they had two squad leaders. A bizarre arrangement, but such was life in the Mad Platoon.

Finn had transferred here for personal reasons. She wanted to stay close to Enkrid and had a vested interest in observing him.

Perhaps, given the chance, she wanted to share a more intimate moment with him. She also had someone else she was eager to meet.

“I’m Finn. Don’t expect me to act high and mighty just because I’m a squad leader. Let’s get along.”

Her directness and forthrightness set her apart. Then, she turned her attention to one of the platoon members.

“You’re Audin, right?”

Audin nodded with a faint smile. “Yes, ma’am. I go by that name.”

The two shook hands, while the others either ignored the scene or offered polite nods.

“Let’s start with the operation details,” Enkrid said, gesturing to Kraiss.

Kraiss cleared his throat, stepping forward.

“The enemy’s guerrilla tactics have been a nuisance, so we’ll do the same to them.”

He kept the explanation simple and straightforward, knowing that any elaborate wording would only confuse the others.

The idea was to disrupt the enemy’s main camp instead of focusing on the elusive guerrilla forces. When asked why, Kraiss had a clear answer.

“If they had spare troops like knights, they wouldn’t be using guerrilla tactics. The enemy wants to keep us stationary, but we’ll do the opposite. We’ll move where they least expect us to.”

Kraiss’ reasoning was solid, and Enkrid gave a nod of approval. Still, Kraiss couldn’t shake his unease and found himself reiterating his points to Enkrid.

“Does talking help you feel less nervous?” Enkrid asked, half-amused.

“You wouldn’t understand, Platoon Leader,” Kraiss muttered, looking at Enkrid.

To him, Enkrid was an anomaly. How could someone dedicate themselves so relentlessly to improvement, to chasing dreams that seemed impossible?

Despite his apprehension, Kraiss couldn’t deny that standing near Enkrid eased some of his fears.

With Finn leading the way as their pathfinder, the platoon moved forward. Traces of the enemy’s guerrilla forces were visible, including a few traps. They ignored them, focusing instead on heading directly toward the enemy’s rear lines.

Through dense forests and over ridges, they eventually reached the enemy’s rear guard.

“I’ll go first. And if anyone tries to beat me to it, I’ll take them out myself,” Rem growled.

No one objected. Most had little interest in being the vanguard.

Kraiss observed the enemy formation—a widely dispersed unit spread across the terrain. Their platoon approached from the enemy’s rear-right flank.

“Any knights among them?” Enkrid asked.

Jaxon, whose sharp eyes scanned the area, shook his head. “Nothing dangerous in sight.”

It was time to begin.

Rem charged down the ridge with Enkrid and Ragna following close behind. Dust rose beneath their feet as they descended toward the enemy.

The rest of the platoon stayed behind, ready to provide cover or respond to any unforeseen developments.

A pair of enemy sentries spotted them.

“What’s this?”

One sentry muttered, unsure of what to make of the approaching trio. Rem raised a hand and waved as if greeting an old friend.

“Hey!”

The casualness threw the enemy off. But as the distance closed, suspicion turned to alarm. The sentry opened his mouth to issue a warning—too late.

Thunk!

A hand axe, hurled with devastating force, lodged itself in his skull. His body jerked backward, and his limbs spasmed before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

The second sentry, panicking, brought a whistle to his lips. But Rem, with explosive speed, closed the gap. His hand shot out, twisting the sentry’s wrist with a sickening crack.

“Guh—!”

The scream was cut short as Rem’s axe slashed across the man’s throat. Blood sprayed, painting the ground red.

“Pathetic.”

Standing between the two fallen sentries, Rem muttered with his voice filled with disdain.

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