WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 152: What’s Different about a Knight?

Aisia found it somewhat peculiar on her way back.

‘Feels like this is the first time.’

Someone who doesn’t even know how to wield a knight’s power, yet managed to endure the pressure barehanded.

He didn’t overcome the ‘pressure’, he just endured it.

No, when all was said and done, he’d even managed to nudge his foot forward by about half a fingertip.

She was a squire, and her sharp eyes caught even the subtlest of movements. He was trying to step forward and advance.

How many soldiers can do that?

Does such a person even exist?

Probably not.

‘Well… if he ever realizes his potential, he might become a real monster.’

But how easy was that, really?

‘Let’s just drop it.’

Frog is still there, so let him handle it.

She was asked to help, she did, and that was that. Once she returned, it was over.

And so, Aisia forgot about Enkrid.

There was no real reason to remember him, though she rather liked that vigor, that stubbornness.

She also liked his face, if she were being honest.

‘We probably won’t meet again, anyway.’

Talent can be cruelly merciless. The goddess of fortune is always unfair.

Clip-clop.

The horse carrying her kicked the ground and moved on. It was time for her to return.

‘Why?’

Vengeance felt anxious and uneasy, for no obvious reason.

A member of a knightly order had come to see Enkrid. They tested his skill, and Frog—known for talent appraisal—also came by.

The result was harsh words thrown around.

‘Why go that far?’

Hoping he’d lose motivation? Because they hate seeing him throw himself into training so fervently?

It was impossible to guess what Battalion Commander Marcus’s true intentions were.

Why was he poking at Enkrid, who was just minding his own business?

Telling him to quit because he can’t be a knight, that his limit is obvious?

Why? Why go out of your way?

Vengeance didn’t know Enkrid’s dream, nor did he know about his conversation with Battalion Commander Marcus.

Hence these questions naturally arose.

Enkrid had never really hidden his faded dream, but neither did he go shouting it in everyone’s ear.

“That bastard battalion commander’s got such a rotten personality.”

Cursing Marcus for no particular reason, Vengeance headed toward Enkrid’s quarters.

Knock knock.

“It’s me, Vengeance.”

“Oh? The ugly platoon leader. What’s up?”

At the knock, Rem came out and turned his stomach upside down.

He had to ignore it. If he opened his mouth, Rem would probably take it as a challenge.

And then? For Enkrid, it’s just one quick knee to the thigh and done, but with Rem, you couldn’t even imagine. Bottom line: best not to provoke him.

“Where’s Enkrid?”

“He’s asleep.”

Wasn’t he more knocked out than just sleeping?

And why’s this jerk so casual?

If anyone was likely to be screaming about how the battalion commander had broken the platoon leader’s spirits, threatening to chop his neck with an axe, it would’ve been this guy.

But if he were going to do that, he’d have swung his axe long ago instead of brooding here.

That would fit him, anyway.

Inside, there was that guy called Ragna, sleeping again.

Was he really out cold? He sure seemed deeply asleep, not snoring, but breathing evenly, his chest gently rising and falling.

Off to one side, Jaxon was rolling up some tobacco leaves.

He was doing it very carefully.

I heard that a woman named Finn joined them, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Kraiss was gone too.

I only saw Frog earlier during the morning watch, and there he was.

It was nearly noon and they looked content to just laze around.

They seemed so carefree it felt odd. Shouldn’t they be comforting him when he wakes up?

Or maybe they planned on saying nothing and just acting like it never happened. Either they won’t mention it at all, or they’ll brush it aside as if it didn’t matter.

As Vengeance cleared his throat, right on cue, Enkrid woke up. As soon as he opened his eyes, he quickly got up.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Vengeance said first.

Then, right afterward,

“They said you can’t become a knight. Not even as much chance as a ghoul’s brain.”

Rem spat it out in a hurry.

“Brother, you’re awake? Here, try some.”

Audin, next to him, offered some bread.

It was pale, moist bread from somewhere. I heard a decent bakery opened in town recently; maybe he got it from there?

But shouldn’t they be focusing on something else right now?

Ragna kept sleeping.

Jaxon was tucking the carefully rolled tobacco leaves into a leather pouch.

“Mm, okay.”

Enkrid was subdued. He responded plainly, munched on the bread, then went outside.

Frog, quietly observing, finally spoke.

“They said you can’t become a knight. Are you okay with that?”

Enkrid turned his head and nodded once, up then down.

“Yes, sure.”

He wasn’t sure of the man’s status, but if he came with a squire, he was probably a knightly order member at least.

And Frog, revered as a talent appraiser, would likely hold rank akin to nobility.

So Enkrid thought and answered.

He didn’t appear shaken in the slightest.

Somehow, Vengeance had ended up blocking the doorway, blinking as he watched Enkrid.

“Looking to settle last night’s spar?”

Enkrid asked.

“No, not exactly.”

Vengeance found it hard to say he came because he was worried.

“What, you ugly platoon leader, did you come for revenge or something? Then go on, bring it.”

Rem tried to provoke him, but Vengeance didn’t bite.

They’d already scuffled once, after all. The bruise on his thigh still hadn’t faded.

Enkrid headed outside.

Vengeance stared at his retreating figure, a bit dazed, then turned around.

“Aren’t you guys gonna comfort him or something?”

Vengeance watched Enkrid’s back and asked.

Comfort, or at least show concern?

What if he suddenly gave up the sword?

What if he just quit?

What if he walked away?

They’d provoked him with talk of having no talent, maybe he’d feel defeated—

Vengeance realized how silly this was.

Who was he to step in like this?

If Enkrid quits or not, what’s it to him?

But after seeing that scene, he couldn’t leave it alone. It wouldn’t sit right with him. No one ordered him to do it. He wasn’t trying to gain anything.

He just felt that way.

He simply couldn’t stay idle.

Rem burst into laughter at Vengeance’s question. That laugh was the same as always, he wasn’t faking it.

“Who do we comfort? The platoon leader?”

Rem said.

“Haha, brother, it seems you don’t really know our platoon leader.”

So said Audin.

“A platoon leader is a platoon leader, that’s all.”

Even Jaxon chimed in.

“Yawn, you said platoon leader?”

Ragna, having woken up, asked casually. Vengeance reflexively pointed outside.

“He left. Training?”

No idea. Ragna didn’t even wait for a reply. He twisted his neck side to side, grabbed his sword, and moved along.

Vengeance stepped aside again. Ragna left without saying hello or goodbye.

What’s with these people?

He felt a bit ignored.

“Our platoon leader won’t be bothered by this.”

Rem wrapped it up.

Hearing this, Frog spoke.

“How can you be sure?”

“Experience.”

They exchanged that short dialogue; then Frog stood up, brushing himself off.

So “experience” meant if he went out and saw for himself, he’d get it. That was it. So he, too, went outside. He’d see firsthand how that Enkrid fellow carried on.

Ragna was already out and Frog followed suit.

Vengeance’s mind was still in a tangle. Could Enkrid really be totally fine after hearing that?

“How strong was our platoon leader before? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, Ugly Platoon Leader?”

Rem went on, lazing on the bunk, halfheartedly messing with Esther, trying to poke at her.

Esther bared her claws, swiping. Rem jerked his finger back just in time.

Esther’s blue eyes regarded Rem, and Rem flashed his palm as if to say he’d stop fooling around.

Vengeance stared at that for a moment, mumbled something, then turned away.

‘Well, at least he’s good-looking, that bastard.’

Or something along those lines.

‘Why’s he always calling me ugly, damn it.’

Seeing Rem stirred up a bit of anger.

How can someone be that skilled and have that face, too?

Ah, but at least…

He’s sure got a weird personality. No wonder they call them the Mad Platoon.

Anyway, I’d say my personality’s better, even if nobody notices.

Mulling it over, Vengeance headed back to his own quarters, thinking all sorts of things.

Above all, Rem’s last words stuck with him.

“How strong was our platoon leader before? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, Ugly Platoon Leader?”

Plod, plod.

It doesn’t make sense at all, does it.

No matter how you see it, it’s baffling. Especially how quickly he’s grown.

How was Enkrid before? Day after day, swinging his sword to no avail, just thrashing about—a pitiful fool.

“If it were me, I would’ve quit ages ago.”

Onlookers sometimes said that, word for word. Vengeance remembered that kind of talk, too. The same people used to say,

“What’s with that loser being a squad leader? Tch, that’s messed up—someone must be giving him a free pass.”

He felt nauseated recalling it.

Back then, he wasn’t fond of Enkrid, either, but still…

“Seriously, you can’t even handle swinging your sword every single day, and you talk big about someone else? You’re nuts.”

What did he do to that jerk, anyway?

Right, he beat him up good.

He just hated it, hated everything—those punks, their nonsense, even Enkrid’s daily, stubborn sword-swinging.

Lots of people badmouthed Enkrid back then. And right now, one of them happened to cross his path.

“Hey, you.”

When called, the soldier approached.

“Yes, Platoon Leader?”

“You think Enkrid’s current skills make sense?”

“...Sir?”

“I mean his skills.”

“Uh, well, he’s gotten better.”

Now the soldier showed a different sort of emotion—admiration and determination.

“And why do you think he got better?”

“Uh… huh?”

‘What’s with this moron?’

It was written all over the soldier’s face. Vengeance simply shook his head.

“Never mind.”

He let the soldier go and mulled it over.

Truthfully, there’s only one reason. His daily doggedness. What makes that possible?

‘He doesn’t know how to give up.’

He doesn’t seem to know despair or surrender. That’s the same reason I hated him and yet couldn’t really bring myself to despise him.

Both the reason to dislike him and the reason to appreciate him.

He doesn’t turn back. He doesn’t retreat. He only moves forward and imagines the future. He dreams. Someone who advances for the sake of his own life.

That’s why he shines.

That’s why he draws people in.

“Damn.”

Vengeance suddenly felt like swinging a sword.

‘Next time I spar with him, I want to hold out a bit longer. Let that be my new goal.’

So he set aside his worries, took up his blade, and started to practice. Training time. The entire unit was swept up in a training frenzy, and he joined in as well.

As soon as Enkrid woke up, his first thought was,

‘Training.’

He’d missed all of the morning practice. And there was a lot he needed to do today.

Starting with the Isolation Technique, then the Sense of Evasion, Heart of the Beast, Focus Point, Heart of Superhuman Strength, Blade Sense, Valaf-style Grappling, plus fundamental sword drills.

‘Since I missed the morning session, I’ll do it this afternoon.’

He’d cut down on his rest. He knew rest was important, but…

Times like this were exceptional.

Because he’d collapsed in the morning, precious hours had slipped away.

He shelved any curiosity about what Squire Aisia might have pulled.

First, he’d do what had to be done.

A daily habit.

He couldn’t skip this routine training.

He’d just woken up and kept overhearing someone say something about not being able to become a knight, some strange chatter.

He wondered why Vengeance had come, but then Audin gave him bread, and he bit into it and headed outside to the training yard, where he started working through his drills.

“Hoo.”

Before long, he was drenched in sweat. His undershirt was soaked in no time.

Even though he’d been knocked out cold earlier, his head wasn’t heavy, nor did he ache anywhere.

Thinking back, he felt like he would die at that moment, but was fully immersed in training now.

While staying focused, he was still thinking.

He’d become accustomed to dual wielding, so doing multiple tasks at once felt more natural.

‘What in the world was that, anyway?’

He could exert a certain aura of pressure now. Simply glaring had once pinned a cat in place.

But creating illusions for others to see? He couldn’t do that.

However, he saw it himself—an illusion.

Those blades—a whirlwind of countless blades. A storm of blades that prevented a single step forward. They demanded he step back or face death.

A push and a coercion, as though Aisia’s blade itself had told him so.

Did she even draw her sword?

Probably not.

“Hoo.”

He exhaled deeply, bringing his breathing under control. Then back to training, training and more training.

Not long after he made up the missed morning session—

“They said you can’t become a knight. Doesn’t that shock you at all?”

It was Frog. He came striding over and asked.

“Shock?”

Shock? Over what?

He truly didn’t understand, so he echoed the question.

“Well, then.”

Frog scratched his nose with a thick finger.

“You’re quite an interesting fellow.”

Frog added, and then Ragna came from behind him.

“What did you see?”

Enkrid turned toward Ragna.

Ragna walked over, sword in hand. He raised it straight up in front of his face. The blade covered half of his face, leaving the other half visible.

Faintly, the blade’s surface reflected his partial features. It wasn’t evening yet, but soft sunlight bathed the surroundings.

Standing amid that gently waning light, Ragna asked,

“What’s different about a Knight?”

His tone didn’t sound like a question at all. Enkrid set his swords aside, giving him his full attention.

Frog was there too, or not—he didn’t mind either way.

A knight had shown him something. That’s what he wanted to figure out. Ragna had brought it up. Perfect timing. He’d been planning to ask after finishing his practice, anyway.

Now was the time to listen.

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