WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 153: Unchanged, As Expected

“How do you see it, Brother?”

Audin voiced his words into the empty air after Ragna, Frog, and Vengeance left. Though it was a question, his tone and manner made it seem like a prayer.

Rem picked his nose as he answered.

“Like hell, he’ll figure it out.”

While giving that answer, Rem reflected on how someone told the platoon leader, whose dream was to become a knight, that it was absolutely impossible.

He’d said to Vengeance that there was no need to worry and believed it himself, but still, an undercurrent of unease was inevitable.

If he had heard such a thing himself, how would he have reacted?

‘I’ve no idea.’

He’d never encountered a situation like that.

When he was out west, there were few whose talents could compare to his.

Among them, he was always on top.

Dwelling on it was pointless.

‘He’ll be fine.’

Worrying won’t change a thing, neither would anxiety.

Rather than fretting, Rem decided to focus on ways to help train the Heart of Superhuman Strength.

‘When he comes back, I’ll put him through the wringer.’

Resolved anew, he pushed his unease aside. That made him feel better.

Swish, swish.

Jaxon was sliding a dagger along the grain of a piece of wood. He was carving. It was taking on some jagged shape.

Working with his hands, Jaxon mulled over Audin’s question.

‘You can never become a knight.’

Depending on who said it, the weight of those words differed.

What if the one saying it was Frog, the Talent Appraiser?

‘Would that be shocking?’

Under normal standards, yes. It’d be a shock—potentially life-changing words.

What if someone told me I could never achieve the thing I’d wanted, that I’d put all my effort into?

‘I’d probably carve a slit across the bastard’s throat.’

So what about Enkrid? About the platoon leader?

‘Would he waver?’

Scritch.

Jaxon continued carving, his thoughts drifting on.

If the platoon leader came back and said he was leaving, how would that feel?

‘I’d be relieved, maybe.’

Then he himself could just go his own way.

Scritch, Jaxon steadied himself with his carving. Relief, but a tinge of regret too.

Can he truly become a knight?

He was a bit curious to see how those efforts would end. How that unwavering practice might turn out.

Slurp.

Esther licked a front paw, imagining someone telling her she wouldn’t be able to cast magic by tomorrow.

‘I’d set fire to that jerk’s mouth.’

Back in her younger days, she wouldn’t hesitate to do that. She’d lived being called a witch from time to time.

Worry? Anxiety? She’d rather recite another spell in that time.

It was a trivial concern.

If Enkrid decided to leave it all behind and depart, it wouldn’t matter much to Esther anyway.

All she needed was the process by which some curse was lifted in the arms of that man, Enkrid—

Not his sword or his martial skill.

His dream was irrelevant.

But.

‘It’d be a shame, I suppose.’

She’d never seen anyone in her life burn with such passion, so there’d be a small sense of loss. That didn’t mean she planned to influence his decision.

She wasn’t going to visit his dreams to persuade him or expend her magic to do anything about it.

‘Still.’

She did feel like appearing in his dreams tonight at least. Perhaps to sing that lullaby she’d heard when she was very, very young.

A melody that soothes the soul.

As for the bear-like brute of a squad member who’d asked the question,

Audin fully believed that something was likely to change with the platoon leader.

‘Is that simply a given, Lord?’

Maybe if he hadn’t begun to learn anything at all, if he were still cluelessly hacking away, it’d be fine.

But Audin had watched many aspiring paladins face similar trials.

When one started to learn something and their progress became tangible was when the toughest trials began.

How does a dullard feel, watching someone leapfrog him with natural talent?

And how does it feel to be that late-blooming genius, newly awakened?

Some people gave in to envy and jealousy, letting a snake fester in their hearts, and eventually left the Lord’s embrace.

‘Lord, You say You give trials to those who need them. Then this too must be a necessary trial, mustn’t it?’

He prayed silently in his head.

A subtle hush filled the quarters. There was no outward anxiety. Perhaps they could’ve used a fuss from someone like Vengeance to break the silence.

That would give them the chance to say, “No, you don’t know the platoon leader,” or something along those lines.

Ragna probably trailed after them due to his own unease as well.

The spring sun came streaming through the square window, and as time passed, the light grew fainter. Dust motes floated in the dimming rays.

If Kraiss had been around, he’d probably have insisted they clean up the place.

As evening rolled in, dispersing the dust revealed by the sunlight, their stomachs began to rumble. It was just around mealtime, so the idea of eating something finally crossed their minds.

They each carried on quietly with whatever they were doing.

Rem tossed his axe from hand to hand, then caught it again.

Woosh, thunk.

The only sounds breaking the hush. The whoosh of the axe spinning through the air and its dull thud when he caught it.

Audin knelt in prayer without moving an inch.

Jaxon’s whittling contributed little scraping noises, while Esther licked her paw.

Then came the moment.

They’d said that food is important just like training. It was about time for the platoon leader to return.

Thunk. Creeeak.

The door opened, and everyone turned to look.

The sound of the axe slicing through the air and the carving knife scraping wood halted in perfect silence.

“...What? Were you waiting for me?”

Finn entered halfway, one foot inside the quarters, and spoke. Sensing something off in the mood, she just stared blankly.

“Quit blocking the way and move aside, huh?”

Enkrid’s voice came from behind her.

Finn stepped inside and moved out of the way. Everyone’s gaze naturally landed on Enkrid.

Swords, knights, and dreams.

What he had seen and experienced with Aisia.

A new flame of longing surged in Enkrid’s eyes. That same heat and desire reached Ragna. He could sense the intensity just by looking.

‘As expected.’

Had he been the sort to falter and give up, he wouldn’t have inspired Ragna to feel such fire.

“Shooting beams of light from your sword, or taking down hundreds with one strike—that’s not even possible for a knight. But a knight who’s blessed, or someone who’s gained a comparable awakening, can slay hundreds in sequence, stabbing and cutting no matter what’s in their hand.”

Ragna found himself surprised by how smoothly his words came out.

But it made sense.

He’d anticipated the day he’d need to say something like this, knowing Enkrid dreamed of knighthood.

He’d planned these words.

He’d once told Enkrid to wait a while, back after seeing that squire in action on the battlefield.

Now was the time to deliver on that, time to give a sort of answer to the one who waited.

“How can they do that?”

It had once been Ragna’s own question. Of course, he solved it quickly.

He’d never felt it was an obstacle.

‘The path is laid, you just have to follow it.’

For him, that was how it worked. But for others, it meant fighting with all their blood and sweat.

That gap, someone else’s blazing passion to surmount it—it always set a spark in Ragna’s heart, as it did now.

“Becoming a knight narrows down from a pool of ten thousand talents to a thousand, then from a thousand to a hundred, and from there to ten or fewer, they say. Many people wield a sword well. Plenty manage to surpass their limits. But only a rare few discover ‘Will.’”

That’s why even a knightly order often has only a few dozen members.

“Wow, won’t that just discourage him more?”

Frog chimed in from behind, adding unnecessary commentary. He was sitting on the ground, resting his arms on his knees, basically spectating. Ragna and Enrkid ignored him.

Enkrid fixed his focus on Ragna’s words. He listened, taking them in.

A new milestone on his journey was emerging.

“Will is what grants knights power beyond human limits—an all-encompassing term. Will is determination, determination is Will. The first step to grasping Will is to reach the human limit.”

Gather all the most gifted, and among them, only a fraction experience that moment of surpassing one’s limit.

And among those, only a fraction awaken to Will afterward.

Sometimes it’s one in ten thousand.

Sometimes not even that.

Will—some call it resolve, some call it a mysterious force. Or simply the power knights attain after exceeding human bounds.

In short, no Will, no knighthood.

That was Ragna’s message.

“What happens once you reach that limit?”

Hungry ambition and desire moved Enkrid’s lips.

“That’s where it begins. After that, you realize Will, hmm...”

Ragna trailed off. Is his method correct? He wasn’t sure. Should he divulge everything he did know?

He regarded his own knowledge as limited.

Would that be enough?

When his doubts arose, his mouth paused. Surprisingly, Frog stepped in to fill the gap.

“Some folks realize it after ten thousand swings alone. Others, after countless hours of meditation. Some see Will the moment their potential clicks. So, how’d it go? Aisia’s intimidation?”

Frog explained, then asked. Enkrid’s gaze shifted. He looked toward that big frog-eyed man.

“I saw an illusion of blades closing in.”

But how to say it?

It sounded childish to call it a “storm of blades,” or a “tidal wave of blades.”

“Decent intuition.”

Frog commented, letting out a loud gurgle that resembled laughter.

“Say what you want—my view is firm. You can’t do it.”

Propping his chin on his hand, Frog spoke firmly.

When has the Talent Appraiser’s verdict ever been wrong?

Surely, there’s a margin of error, nothing is perfect in this world.

That includes Frog. Even so, some things are plain as day. A glimmer of possibility has to be visible for it to exist, but…

He couldn’t see a speck of that in Enkrid. Not the slightest bit. Honestly, the level he reached is astounding.

‘He must have brushed against death countless times.’

Frog’s keen intuition told him that the man got here by barely surviving hundreds of life-and-death crises.

Even so…

The dark-haired, blue-eyed man—whose unusual looks and striking handsomeness stood out—showed no trace of doubt in his gaze.

How was that possible?

Grug.

Frog’s cheeks puffed, then relaxed. This time it was admiration. His emotions played out in his cheeks.

Of course, to a human observer, it was impossible to tell if he was angry, happy, impressed, or sad.

Enkrid was reminded of those voices from the past.

All who said it couldn’t be done.

He’d always heard that.

Everyone said the path he walked was wrong. The whole world said it was impossible.

Yes, it had always been like that.

So this time was no different.

“I see.”

He gave a bored sort of response, using polite speech to respect Frog’s status.

And that was all.

Whatever Frog’s aims might be, Enkrid would walk his own path. That was what he did. He was on a journey toward a dream he wouldn’t abandon.

He was a traveler in search of his dream. A wanderer stepping forward with the signposts he’d found.

“Well then, may I ask one more thing? How do I reach my limit?”

Enkrid turned his gaze back to Ragna, opening his mouth again. Ragna marveled at how unchanged he was.

Even though he expected it, he found it amazing. Precisely because he knew, he found it impressive.

“Hone every skill you have. Only you can tell when you’ve hit your limit. And once you reach it, well…”

Ragna’s words got tangled. Business as usual.

Enkrid nodded and cut him off.

“Ah, got it.”

So basically, keep doing what I’m doing.

That’s how Enkrid interpreted it. He’d used all these lofty words just to say “keep at it.” Could’ve said that in simpler terms.

“Hey, isn’t this where you drop to your knees and lament over your sad talent or something?”

Frog asked, rolling his big eyes around.

“I don’t have the time for that.”

Enkrid answered plainly, then swung his sword. Reflecting on what he had, reviewing, and pressing on.

It was what he’d always done.

Nothing new there.

‘Seriously, that guy’s insane.’

Frog’s cheeks puffed further, GURRRK!—the noise grew louder. This time it showed intense curiosity.

Ragna merely watched Enkrid.

Frog also stared at the man who’d been the real reason for his stay here from the start. It wasn’t Ragna. It was always Enkrid.

This wasn’t about evaluating talent, it was purely from experience—Frog’s sixth sense.

‘A guy like that will definitely cause some trouble.’

He can’t become a knight. So what will he become? That’s what excited Frog.

‘I’ll stick around a bit longer.’

And so Frog decided to remain.

Enkrid continued to swing his sword.

Over and over again—as always.

Regardless of whether Frog or Ragna watched, he worked on the basics. A signpost had appeared once more.

His faded dream was regaining color.

While everyone else worried about his despair, Enkrid alone saw hope.

It’s something they call Will. Some call it willpower, some say it’s a mystery.

He just had to learn it.

They said to reach one’s limit, then surpass it. How hard could that be?

He’d been doing that all along, time and again. That was all there was to it.

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