WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 142: Coordination of the Senses and the Body

Rem, who had just killed the sentry, turned around. Neither Enkrid nor Ragna had a chance to step in.

There was no reason to wait for the enemy here.

“How dull,” Rem said, spinning the axe in his hand. Blood splattered from the axe blade, droplets falling on the ground.

Enkrid turned his body away at the sight.

“Ragna,” he called, and Ragna obediently followed behind his platoon leader. It was an element Kraiss had emphasized repeatedly—never leave Ragna alone.

If left unattended, it was only a matter of time before Ragna got lost and wandered off like a child.

“You barbarian, know your limits.” 

Ragna muttered while trailing behind the platoon leader. From Ragna’s perspective, it looked like Enkrid was about to take action but was robbed of the opportunity.

Barbarians should know when to step forward and when to retreat. There was no way to let such a failure pass without reprimand.

Naturally, Rem didn’t take it meekly.

“Huh? What did you just say? Want me to give you another mouth on your neck? Should I slit your throat open for you?”

“Enough.” 

Enkrid intervened calmly, trying to keep the peace between them. After all, they had just begun.

They climbed back up the ridge. It should have been several times harder than descending, but compared to what Enkrid had endured while training with the isolation technique, this was nothing short of child’s play.

The same went for Rem and Ragna. Among the mad squad members wielding axes and swords, none had stamina so poor that this terrain would trouble them.

“Let’s go, Finn,” Kraiss urged, as though reminding them it wasn’t time to fight.

Finn nodded and started moving again, leading the way over the ridgeline.

Finn was at the forefront, followed by Enkrid. Behind him were Ragna and Kraiss.

Kraiss, for his part, kept up well, showing he wasn’t lacking in stamina. Mack, watching their movement, couldn’t help but feel surprised.

‘Fast.’

Their steps were decisive and unhesitating. It seemed like a forced march. However, ignoring the toll on their stamina, none of them showed signs of wear.

Mack decided it was best to focus on keeping himself together.

“Breathe slowly and deeply.”

Whether this was a march, a raid, or a strike mission, it wouldn’t end quickly. They needed to conserve energy.

Andrew nodded.

“I know.”

The reply was curt but showed understanding without needing further explanation. Hearing that, Mack felt a strange sense of pride.

“When did he grow this much?”

Mack reflected, thinking that once this battle was over and they returned to the city, it might finally be time to seek his rightful place again.

“It’ll be tough, but... well, I don’t know. I’m looking forward to it,” Andrew said aloud, his gaze fixed on the back of his platoon leader.

Mack nodded imperceptibly, too faint for Andrew to notice. He, too, harbored anticipation.

How far would their platoon leader go?

Would he truly grasp that elusive something he was chasing?

Mack had ears and intuition. He understood that what the platoon leader sought was something beyond his current reach.

Andrew’s ambitions, too, were lofty enough to be dismissed as foolish. While he was here to help, whether Andrew could save his family remained uncertain.

“There’s no giving up,” Andrew muttered to himself. The boy who once chattered arrogantly, trusting only his skills, was gone.

In his place stood a man changed by watching his platoon leader’s back.

“There’s no such thing as giving up,” Mack replied warmly, a hint of pride in his voice. Though it wasn’t Enkrid’s intent, Andrew had changed.

And that change had, in turn, affected Mack. Saving his family? That would, of course, be something Andrew could achieve.

Mack, organizing his thoughts for what lay ahead, adjusted his breathing. Slow and steady, reducing unnecessary movement.

Andrew, walking beside him, mirrored his breathing adjustments.

As the two whispered to each other, Enkrid kept walking, listening to the breathing of his squad members.

“You listen and listen again.”

If visual acuity developed through observing movements, auditory senses improved similarly.

Distinguishing and processing sounds faster—this was another form of training. The clinking of gravel, footsteps on the ridge, the breathing of his squad.

‘Shallow and steady.’

That was Mack and Andrew, preparing for what lay ahead. What about Rem? His breathing was erratic, unmeasured. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, making it hard to discern.

It suited his personality perfectly.

Audin’s breathing was so long and drawn out it was hard to tell where it started or ended.

Ragna’s breathing was ordinary.

Jaxon’s was completely inaudible.

And what about himself?

If anything, his breathing was most similar to Ragna’s, ordinary. It was enough to breathe steadily and walk steps familiar to his body.

“By the way, were you ever trained as a Ranger?” Finn suddenly asked, turning her head slightly back. 

Enkrid responded nonchalantly, as usual.

“I picked it up by watching a Ranger I knew.”

It wasn’t a lie. He learnt it by watching Finn, after all. This exchange brought back a sense of déjà vu.

Hadn’t someone asked him a similar question, and hadn’t he given a similar answer?

It was with Enri. He had asked him where he had learned about the plains, and he had given him a similar reply.

He wondered if he had returned safely to the city. After being assigned to join the unit escorting prisoners of war, there shouldn’t have been any trouble.

Even as he reminisced, Enkrid didn’t stop what he was doing.

Listening, observing, feeling.

He divided his senses, refining them as he walked. On the ridgeline, the enemy was to their right, and their allies’ base was to the left.

By now, their allies had likely moved as well. Enkrid’s only task was to fulfill the mission given to him.

While walking and training, he directed a question toward Rem.

“What was that charge earlier?”

“If you’re asking how I did it, it makes me feel like smacking you upside the head.”

Rem’s response was blunt, his tone clearly scolding.

Why?

Enkrid quickly realized,

‘I asked without thinking.’

He had asked reflexively, expecting an answer without giving it thought. Perhaps he’d grown used to giving orders recently.

People weren’t perfect. Enkrid was no exception.

Though skilled at dealing with people, used to advancing alone, and possessing the grit to crawl forward without turning back, even he made mistakes.

‘I’m lacking. I forgot to think things through.’

But Enkrid was quick to recover from mistakes. He acknowledged, recognized, and corrected them.

Without replying to Rem, he sank back into his own world. If it was a question he shouldn’t have needed to ask, the answer must already lie in what he’d learned.

Charging, dashing—what was required for these actions?

Strength, muscle, leg power.

The “Heart of the Beast,” a body imbued with monstrous strength. Focusing that power into full-body motion—what would that achieve?

Of course, training and time were necessary. But simply seeing the path ahead brought him joy.

Ah, so that’s it.

A fleeting smile of exhilaration crossed Enkrid’s face. Noticing this, Rem smirked. Why ask something so obvious?

That was the meaning behind Rem's smirk.

The group, with Finn leading, continued their march. As they walked, Finn found herself newly astonished. Every single one of them was a monster.

Not one of them lagged behind. Was that even possible? It shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t easy, and they weren’t taking breaks.

And yet none of them had undergone Ranger training, had they?

‘That one doesn’t match his delicate face at all,’ he thought.

Among them, the squad member nicknamed “Big Eyes” stood out the most. Despite not being a combatant, he wasn’t falling behind.

Of course, compared to the others, he was more doggedly keeping pace rather than relying on stamina.

Still, that alone was impressive.

They traversed the ridgeline, stopping at a patch of ground sparsely covered with short shrubs.

“This should put us in the rear,” Finn observed.

The benefit of moving in small numbers was clear. The biggest advantage? Mobility.

And they fully utilized it.

Descending the slope, this time it was Audin and Jaxon’s turn to lead.

“Ah, why?”

Rem pouted, his lips sticking out slightly, but it had already been decided that they would take turns leading. If something went wrong, they’d need to retreat with evasive maneuvers, and someone had to guard the rear.

Not to mention, Kraiss required a guard as well.

As Enkrid descended the slope, he briefly wondered if Esther was still watching from somewhere. He had brought her along, but as soon as they started climbing, she had hopped out of his arms and disappeared.

Was he out hunting somewhere?

Who knew? It wasn’t something he needed to worry about. Descending the slope, Enkrid encountered an enemy sentry.

This time, luck wasn’t on his side.

Fweeeeet!

The enemy blew a whistle the moment they spotted him.

It was a swift reaction. Holding his spear steady in front of him, the sentry shouted, “Who’s there? Stop right there!”

Without a word, Enkrid approached.

One of the sentries ran his hand over his belt, clearly preparing to throw a knife. A throwing knife hung inverted in his hand, its blade glinting.

‘See with your eyes. React with your body.’

Move in response to your senses. The key was to enhance reaction speed. This was the essence of the “Sense of Evasion.”

Whoosh!

The knife flew toward him. In response, Enkrid lowered his posture and dashed forward.

This was different from activating “Focus Point” to evade. It wasn’t about concentration but about pure reaction speed.

Calmly and steadily.

That was the crux of it, and so, he moved accordingly.

Without activating the Heart of the Beast, Enkrid imitated the steps of a knight charging into battle.

Thud, thud.

His feet pounded the ground as the enemy thrust their spear forward. The extended spear tip aimed for his chest.

Enkrid dodged, countered, and deflected—all within a single breath, weaving his movements seamlessly together.

Planting his left foot forward, he twisted his body to avoid the spear tip, then pushed the spear shaft away with his palm.

Thwack!

The spear shaft was shoved aside, throwing the sentry off balance.

“Ah!”

The shock in the sentry’s eyes grew closer as Enkrid closed the gap without slowing his pace.

Just as Rem had once demonstrated.

Charging forward, Enkrid shoved the spear away and pressed into the sentry’s guard.

From there, the fight was predictably quick.

Squelch!

Enkrid pulled out his dagger and stabbed it into the sentry’s throat before withdrawing it.

Blood gushed diagonally from the open wound. Satisfied, Enkrid cleaned his dagger.

‘It works.’

It wasn’t something he had repeatedly practiced; it was a skill he had learned through experience.

“Sense of Evasion” was an art which enhanced coordination between the senses and the body.

Through this training, he had learned something fundamental. The speed of his physical reactions had changed.

And what did that mean?

Without relying on Focus Point, he could still move faster than his opponent. That meant gaining the advantage in both attacking and controlling space.

It was only natural that the fight ended so quickly.

The enemy was of mediocre skill, and even though Enkrid felt as though he was just starting to get the hang of things...

‘It works.’

The realization brought him joy.

Jaxon, watching Enkrid, was pleased. Yes, that’s how it was done.

Basic, but clean.

It could be criticized as brute-force training, or praised as determined perseverance.

And that was the core of this training—persistence and more persistence.

Wasn’t it a technique that suited Enkrid perfectly?

The more he trained in synchronizing his body with his senses, the faster his reaction speed would become.

‘Wasn’t his dream to become a knight?’

Even if it seemed like an impossible dream, there was no rule against chasing it.

It was the same for Jaxon.

If he had voiced his childhood dreams or hidden goals, no one would have refrained from laughing.

Even as these thoughts continued, Jaxon’s hands moved with precision. At some point, he had slipped behind another sentry and pressed his dagger to their throat.

Slash.

Unlike Enkrid, Jaxon didn’t feel the need to make the blood gush like a fountain.

“Ghk!”

The sentry, clutching their spear with one hand and their throat with the other, tried to press down on the wound.

Pointless. The blade had already severed the main artery in their neck.

Jaxon, with his wealth of experience, had seen many die in such a manner. Blood leaked through the sentry’s fingers and began to trickle down.

With a kick to the back of the knees, Jaxon sent the sentry sprawling to the ground.

They let go of their spear, writhing on the ground like a fish out of water as life ebbed away from the body.

They didn’t even have the strength to cry out or blow their whistle.

“Let’s go.”

In an instant, they had dealt with two sentries. However, the whistle’s sound had stirred movement deeper within the enemy unit.

It was time to retreat again.

“Agreed,” Enkrid replied, showing satisfaction as he turned.

It was time to move through the mountains once more. And so, they moved again. Their retreat was as swift as ghosts slipping away.

The Azpen unit, responding to the whistle, saw only the backs of figures climbing the mountain slope.

“After them!”

The furious rear commander of the Azpen forces shouted, sending troops after Enkrid’s party.

But how could they hope to chase a small, elite force moving through the ridges?

Faster than their pursuers and prepared to counterattack any small group sent after them, Enkrid’s team was untouchable.

To Kraiss, this outcome was obvious.

Why wouldn’t it be?

If the enemy could strike with small elite forces, then so could they. Of course, only a group like the Mad Platoon could make it meaningful.

“Advance in double time,” came Enkrid’s voice.

Kraiss glanced at his platoon leader, wondering if he had fully grasped his intentions.

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