WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Ryuu
Editor: Abstract
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES
Chapter 145: The Season of the Hunt
What are these guys?
Finn blinked her eyes in confusion.
She recalled the previous battle—the one before coming to the battlefield. Was it with Enkrid and Torres, or maybe Toros? They had fought alongside members of the Frontier Defense.
It had been intense. Fierce.
She had given it her all to survive, barely making it through.
‘If these guys had been there, wouldn’t it have been over in a flash?’
That seemed likely. The three warriors clad in chainmail armor were experts in combat.
Each wielded a blunt weapon. One wielded a hammer, another had a morning star, and the last one used a long staff with an iron lump affixed at its end.
They all seemed formidable and despite such heavy equipment, they moved without sluggishness.
‘If it had been me…’
Even handling just one of them would have been difficult.
Finn found herself poorly matched against them. Even if she managed to stab them up close with a dagger, they would likely endure it due to their equipment.
Judging by the thick gambeson beneath their chainmail, she’d probably have to plunge a shortsword in at least halfway to make it effective.
Would they even give her such an opening? And even if an opening presented itself, then what? Would the one stabbed just stand idly by?
No, they’d probably smash her head with a hammer or morning star. Her head would explode, and she would die.
She wasn’t confident in the slightest yet her allies toyed with these three formidable enemies.
“Brother, it’s time to go.”
The fanatical soldier, more devoted to the Lord than most priests, closed the distance to the soldier wielding the morning star. Then, with his fist, he struck the enemy’s head.
‘Wasn’t he supposed to be a master of Valaf-style grappling?’
Nothing of the sort was evident. The fanatical soldier simply overwhelmed his opponent with brute strength.
The morning star-wielding enemy retaliated by swinging the weapon and striking the fanatic’s forearm, but it didn’t seem to leave so much as a scratch.
Though Finn intended to check later, from what she could see, the fanatic’s arm remained unscathed.
Thud.
Even after such a sound, the fanatic’s body didn’t waver. Not a groan of pain. He merely spoke the words he intended and did what needed to be done.
“Go. Be with the Lord.”
The enemy, struck in the head, staggered.
Then, pivoting on his left foot, the fanatic twisted his waist. A small whirlwind seemed to form around his massive frame.
What followed was a kick executed with the balance of his rotating pelvis and torso.
A roundhouse kick. As the kick landed squarely on the enemy’s head again,
Thud!
The struck soldier’s eyes popped out.
Even though the kick struck the helmet, the pressure generated was too much for the soldier to withstand.
‘Wow. Damn.’
Finn couldn’t close her gaping mouth. The other two foes met similar fates. The madman with the axe first cackled in laughter, despite his earlier rage.
“What? You think wearing that’ll keep you alive?”
His opponent was the one wielding the long staff with the iron lump.
As the weapon swung down, the madman avoided the lump and reached out, grabbing the lower part of the staff with his palm. Then, with a powerful tug, he lunged forward and struck with his axe.
It was terrifyingly swift. The axe struck the enemy’s abdomen.
Bang!
It sounded like a leather drum bursting.
Crash!
The axe tore through the chainmail at the soldier’s waist, shattering it and spilling blood.
That wasn’t the end.
Reversing his rotation, the madman swung the axe back to the same spot.
Slash!
The second strike ripped further into the already damaged chainmail, cutting through more than half of the soldier’s side.
“Guh—”
It was no surprise the enemy died. Pink entrails spilled onto the ground along with gushing blood.
The soldier knelt and collapsed in a heap. The red-eyed blond soldier, known for his laziness, now moved with intense fervor.
Clang! Clang!
Twice, he deflected the descending hammer with his sword, then thrust his blade forward. The motion was fluid, as though the blade was destined to emerge from the enemy’s abdomen.
Slash!
The sword pierced halfway through the chainmail and into the inner cloth armor. As the lazy soldier drove his blade in with force, the enemy raised their hammer overhead, aiming for a deadly strike.
The hammer descended toward the blind spot above his head.
Moments before the hammer crushed his skull, the lazy soldier released the sword embedded in his foe and drew another from his waist.
Clang.
With an upward swing, he deflected the hammer. The motion was so swift and confident that Finn’s eyes couldn’t follow every action.
‘How good are these guys at fighting?’
The deflected hammer’s momentum caused the sword’s flat side to strike the enemy’s helmet.
Thunk!
The struck soldier dropped their hammer, clutching their head, and staggered before collapsing. The lazy soldier calmly approached, standing before the fallen enemy, and drove the sword deeper into their abdomen.
“Stop… Please, stop.”
Crack, crunch, squelch.
It was hard to describe the scene without a shiver of dread. Goosebumps rose, and knees buckled.
The lazy soldier pushed the blade deeper, driving it through the enemy’s body until it embedded itself in the ground beneath. Straightening his posture, he stepped back. The enemy, having lost the hammer and holding only a shield, continued shaking his head. He clutched the blade embedded in his body until he collapsed, crying and dying on the spot.
While these three skilled enemies were dispatched with relative ease, something unexpected happened. A surprising number of spectators among the enemy soldiers had died.
The cause? Beheading.
At some point, one of their own had begun cutting down their dazed comrades’ necks. Not with a longsword, but a single dagger.
‘When did that guy even start doing that?’
Finn, overwhelmed by the shock and absurdity of it all, finally spoke.
“What… are you guys?”
Right next to her, Kraiss, his wide eyes blinking, opened his mouth.
“I was wondering the same thing.”
Internally, Kraiss tried to calm himself. Why had he been so worried?
They were so good at fighting. The Mad Platoon was performing several times better than he had expected. He had used Enkrid as a baseline, but these soldiers defied all expectations.
A strange thought crossed his mind.
How skilled must knights truly be if soldiers like these exist?
He couldn’t help but admire the person who had first brought these individuals together.
‘Whoever decided to send the squad leader here is a genius. That’s undeniable.’
Otherwise, this group might have caused a massive implosion within the main battalion.
“Set it on fire. Squad Leader Andrew,” Kraiss said.
“Huh? What? Fire?” Andrew, who seemed as astonished as Finn, wore a slightly pale expression that quickly reverted to normal. For some reason, he also seemed a bit relieved.
“Set it on fire. If we stay here, the enemy’s main forces will come. Do you want to face them?”
No, of course not. That would be impossible.
“Let’s move.”
Mack, Andrew, and Finn began striking flints. Among the supplies, there was a pile of hay meant for feeding the horses.
Perfectly dry and ready for burning.
“Hurry.”
Kraiss urged them, and no one questioned why.
“Damn it, monsters!”
“Spare me!”
Not all the enemy soldiers had been killed. As soon as they reached a state of near annihilation, the squad ceased their attack.
There was no point in chasing and killing all of them.
“Leave them.”
That decision came not from Kraiss but from Enkrid.
“Understood.”
Rem’s response confirmed their obedience to Enkrid’s orders. As the squad members set the hay ablaze, Enkrid commented.
“I think I’m destined to be linked with fire somehow.”
What nonsense was this? Had he been struck on the head during the fight?
“What?”
“No, it’s nothing. Let’s go.”
The fire ignited the traps the enemy had dug. Being spring, such a bonfire wasn’t necessary.
It was just fire. Roaring flames. The blaze rose high, announcing its presence.
Enkrid and the Mad Platoon slipped away like the wind.
Finn, who was guiding the path, finally declared that they only needed to move in a straight line. She then joined Audin’s side.
“Hey, what was your name again?”
“Audin, Sister.”
“Really? Could you teach me a few things later?”
Finn seemed intrigued, her eyes scanning Audin’s arms. As expected, there wasn’t a single scratch.
This wasn’t related to Valaf-style grappling. Finn’s gaze held a peculiar mix of curiosity and ambition. Enkrid didn’t care what the two were discussing.
Instead, he focused on walking once more, contemplating his training.
“I didn’t use my sense of evasion properly. It’s an issue of skill.”
Jaxon’s words resonated with him, lingering in his thoughts.
“You want to wield two swords? Don’t forget, it’ll only be worth it once it feels more comfortable than your own hands.”
Ragna had evaluated him similarly.
“You did well to use the Heart of the Beast for the first time. That’s what I mean, you did well.”
Surprisingly, Rem praised Enkrid’s personal tactics. Perhaps it had been impressive. Enkrid, however, didn’t concern himself with such opinions.
“Keep training, Brother. Rolling is the way to grow stronger.”
Audin’s comment, made after glancing at Finn, was true. Enkrid also believed in rolling, though that was for when they returned.
For now, he pondered how much longer they’d need to traverse these ridges. Perhaps it was time to pull back. They had others to meet, after all.
As expected, two days after smashing the enemy’s trap with brute force, they encountered persistent pursuers.
The squad had turned toward the main battalion to evade the enemy’s relentless pursuit. While chewing on jerky during a brief rest, an arrow flew into their midst.
Thwack!
The arrow had been aimed at Rem’s head, but he dodged it with beast-like reflexes.
He twisted his body just in time.
Although he didn’t dodge it perfectly—his earlobe was grazed, and a splash of blood spattered the air. Still chewing on his jerky, Rem grinned.
“A hawk’s cub, huh?”
For some reason, Rem had seemed in high spirits lately. Enkrid examined the arrow embedded in the ground.
Short and sturdy, different from before.
“They’re serious this time. No traces of their presence.”
Ranger Finn commented. The enemy unit, the so-called Hawk’s Talons, which had been harassing the rear lines, had returned to hunt the Mad Platoon.
In truth, they had been cornered.
Which was expected.
“Are you alright?”
Finn asked. Enkrid nodded. This had all been part of Kraiss’s plan, and Enkrid understood it well.
From the beginning, the Mad Platoon’s purpose was clear. To draw attention and clean up afterward. It was time for the cleanup now.
While the Mad Platoon gradually whittled away at the enemy forces, Marcus's main battalion advanced toward the Cross Guard.
Could they conquer the city with such a small force?
Unlikely.
Still, the possibility existed.
During this time, a guerilla unit attacked their rear, diverting attention. Azpen had few choices. As a commander, his options were severely limited.
“The Cross Guard won’t fall. But the fact that it was attacked will leave a stain. For the sake of the next battle, if not for now, we must send reinforcements. You must eliminate the remaining enemy forces in the bypass.”
The strategist’s advice left Azpen’s commander deep in thought. Several scenarios swirled in his mind.
Attack the city? With such limited troops? It won’t fall. It can’t fall. But the fact that the Cross Guard was attacked remains.
It was a battle of pride.
The failure of their giants and sorcery had already placed them in a precarious position.
Would he go down as the commander who let the duchy’s front yard be trampled upon?
‘No. That’s not acceptable.’
Even if the city wasn’t conquered, the fact that it was attacked would remain. He’d be remembered as the commander who failed to protect the city. Could he shoulder such disgrace?
Or perhaps this was an opportunity. It was a dilemma, one weighted heavily towards a single outcome.
Azpen had played their hand and failed. Naurillia had advanced deeper, expanding its territory.
If things remained as they were, the borders between the two nations would be redrawn.
‘Can I let this happen?’
By eliminating the enemy forces in the bypass and enduring Naurillia’s remaining assaults, he might turn the tide. If he succeeded, they could strike back from the bypass.
Moving troops to the Cross Guard while leaving the bypass undefended, however, would be a disastrous mistake.
The madman commanding this ploy was gambling. But was it necessary? They already had the upper hand on the battlefield.
In that case, wasn’t this an opportunity? With the bypass unprotected, their detached units had more room to maneuver.
“Sigh.”
The commander exhaled sharply through clenched teeth, issuing his order.
“Mobilize swift units and send them to the bypass.”
The words fell from his lips with a faint whistle of air escaping through a gap in his front teeth.
“Yes, sir!”
Azpen began to mobilize. Meanwhile, the adjutant felt an ominous foreboding.
‘If this goes wrong…’
It wouldn’t just change the borders. The adjutant couldn’t help but think of Abnair.
The duchy’s brilliant strategist, the one who had weaponized giants and other forces at such a young age.
‘What a waste.’
Abnair’s background had ultimately kept him from being fully utilized. Still, it was a useless thought. In the adjutant’s eyes, Abnair was a genius. He would take care of himself.
“Send the knights.”
If Naurillia had their Red Cloak Knights, then the duchy had the Azpen Royal Knights.
The Azpen Royal Knights. Despite their unremarkable name, their skill was anything but ordinary.
“Send two, no, three.”
Did the commander feel the same ominous foreboding as his adjutant? The quality of the forces sent to the bypass increased. Their quantity grew as well.
If the Hawk’s Talons could handle the pests harassing their rear lines, and the remaining forces, including the three proto-knights, advanced as planned, this could turn into a decisive counterattack.
“Captain, do you know the difference between a sniper and a hunter?”
Rem asked, moments after dodging the arrow.
According to Kraiss’s plan, the Hawk’s Talons, or Hawk’s Claws, Talons, Eyebrows, whatever they were called—were next on their list.
The decoy strategy had lured them in. As a ranger, Finn left just enough traces to draw their attention.
“They’re sharp. We’ll need to be cautious,” Finn said.
Meanwhile, Rem grinned widely, as though he couldn’t be happier. Enkrid turned his gaze toward Rem and asked casually.
“Do I need to know?”
“Not really, but I wanted to say it anyway.”
Rem often spoke unnecessarily. This was one of those times. He was always talkative, after all.
“A sniper shoots a target from a distance, while a hunter, well, hunts their prey.”
So, what’s the difference?
“It’s more fun to hunt than to snipe from afar. Especially with an axe. Ah, nothing beats it.”
So, what’s your point? Enkrid’s expression said it all as he stared at Rem.
“All I’m saying is, just sit tight while I’m gone. Don’t go around getting hit by stray arrows. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“To hunt, of course. If someone sends you a gift, it’s only polite to return the favor.”
Rem plucked the arrow from the ground. With a soft pop, the arrow came free. Tucking it into his belt, Rem casually stepped into the underbrush.
Should they just leave him alone?
He’d manage. He wouldn’t have gone if he wasn’t confident.
As for the rest…
“Jaxon?”
Enkrid asked, wondering if Jaxon had any intention of joining Rem for an ambush duet.
“No.”
Firm and decisive. Fair enough. Rem could handle himself. They had to trust that.
“For us, we’ll move in our own way, I suppose.”
Rem was the hunter, the Hawk’s Talons were the prey. And the Mad Platoon were the hunters stalking the Hawk’s Talons.
Hunting was better suited to summer, but spring hunts could be enjoyable as well. After all, it was shaping up to be the season of the hunt.
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