WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 160: A Stepping Stone for a Small Goal

= = =

"Just do that fifteen more times."

Rem said it without looking up.

Enkrid stared at him.

"Do that and your hand reaches the wall. That's how you get over it."

Something was still lodged in Rem. Still unresolved.

Enkrid caught it, but he was too busy turning over what had just happened to dwell on it.

One exchange.

There was more to gain from it than he could carry. He knew that instinctively.

"Good work."

He said it and turned away. He wanted to think it through, work it over. That one spar, that one exchange of offense and defense, what was buried inside all of it?

"Brother, looks like you took one on the chin."

From behind him, Audin's voice, teasing Rem.

"You want to go eat lunch with the Lord? You massive idiot?"

Then the sound of Rem and Audin bickering.

Enkrid ignored them. Lately, even when they fought, they stopped at a reasonable point. They weren't exactly close, but somehow each kept to their line.

How did I cut him?

He'd drawn a scratch across Rem's cheek. The fact itself was surprising enough, but he was far more absorbed in picking apart how.

This wasn't a new kind of experience. He knew how to think back, how to dig through it.

So.

A frog trapped at the bottom of a well, leaping up and glimpsing the world outside.

What does that give you?

A frog that's jumped high once knows it can jump again.

Outside the well, Enkrid wanted to see a new world.

Departure was two days out, and still he pressed on without pause. Strip away the basic drills and he'd spent every remaining hour just turning things over. The more you know, the more you see, and following that faithfully had laid bare how much he still lacked.

Correct and Precise Sword, Heavy and Fierce Sword, Illusionary Sword, Fast and Faster Sword, Soft and Flowing Sword.

Of the five, he'd built on the Heavy Sword Style as his foundation.

Was that enough?

The same thought that came whenever he used the dual-sword technique.

He wanted to try other weapons too.

A Knight was said to handle ten weapons with competence. That wasn't for him. Competence in ten meant learning one and understanding ten, and that required talent.

He didn't have it. Not by a long stretch.

Then what?

If I can't learn one and know ten.

What about learning all of them, one at a time?

Repeating the same work every day was one thing. But on the path forward, if there was a way to walk instead of crawl..."Then I will."

The resolve came out on its own.

Obvious.

He'd lost track of evening coming on, so deep was his focus. Even at meals, whatever else he did, part of his mind had been replaying and reworking it all.

The moment he'd drawn that scratch on Rem's cheek.

What Enkrid felt wasn't satisfaction. It was hunger.

He looked at the road ahead.

That was where it all led.

He muttered to himself, rose from his bunk, and moved.

The lodging wasn't large.

Every eye in the room turned to him.

Enkrid stopped at Ruagarne's bunk.

She'd been getting ready for sleep. She looked up from where she lay, watching him.

"Do you know the Correct and Precise Sword?"

Tomorrow was the day they left.

The lamplight stretched shadows long behind them.

Everyone had come back from the washroom. Finn had been last, damp hair still dripping.

Esther had been at Enkrid's spot, trimming her claws. She went still and looked up.

The panther's deep blue eyes fixed on his back.

"It's a specialty of mine."

Ruagarne answered without getting up.

"Teach me."

Enkrid wanted to learn. He wasn't waiting for someone to offer.

To his eyes, Frog was an exceptional teacher.

Beyond the whip, she handled other weapons well, the Correct and Precise Sword especially. He'd known that through the occasional lessons and sparring Ruagarne had given him over time.

Watching and learning, mimicking over the shoulder, that had its place. But he needed something different.

Ragna's Northern-style Heavy and Fierce Sword was excellent. The other techniques he shared weren't bad either.

But Ragna had picked those up over the shoulder too.

"I'm just imitating what I've seen once or twice myself."

He said it often enough.

Learning the way a genius learns wasn't enough.

As always, what he felt was thirst.

Frog had something none of the other Squad members could give him.

Rem? His way of fighting didn't take any fixed form. It was axe-work born from instinct and the sixth sense.

He'd drawn a scratch on Rem's cheek in the spar.

Under that electric feeling, Enkrid had seen something.

That figure who'd looked like a demon in that moment.

Was that Rem's true nature, or an illusion his own heart and eyes had made?

He didn't know.

But if he had a wish.

See it again.

He wanted to push Rem into that place once more.

Not breaking through his limits right now. Not yearning to grasp the Will. That wasn't his way.

Years spent clinging to scraps of a dream.

If he'd learned anything from all of it, it was one thing.

Step by step. Crawling if you have to, but forward.

However slow those steps, moving forward had always shown him something, let him feel something, brought something within reach.

One step forward. He decided to take on a small goal.

To see something real from Rem's face. Demon or ghost, whatever it was, something genuine.

And if possible, from Audin, Ragna, and Jaxon too.

"All right."

Ruagarne nodded without hesitation.

Enkrid gave a small bow and lay down.

Tomorrow they had to reach the pioneer village and carry out the commission. There was a road ahead of them. Arriving tired would be bad. Best to sleep early.

"You know, just occurred to me: when someone's too plainly straightforward, it starts to look like madness from the outside. Just putting that out there."

Rem muttered from his bunk. Enkrid didn't answer. Bite back and they'd be talking for a while.

Luckily, Rem fell quiet too. Just idle commentary, nothing worth chasing.

"Ha, brother, I pray the Lord's grace be upon you. Please, at least keep that mind of yours intact."

It almost sounded like being called a lunatic, but a prayer was a prayer and a blessing was a blessing.

Everyone else stayed quiet.

The night passed.

Morning came.

Enkrid set out with the same steady bearing as always.

Out past the city gates, Ruagarne and Kraiss fell in behind him. Finn walked ahead. Esther had pressed herself against his chest and refused to leave, digging her claws in whenever he tried to put her down.

Well. She was coming along, then.

"Move out."

Led by Finn, the group followed the road. They ran into Ghouls before long.

"Already?"

Early for an encounter. Even for a monster-prone stretch, this was quite close to the city.

Not that it was a problem.

Two Ghouls. Gray-skinned creatures. Things that loved human flesh and blood.

Enkrid drew his sword.

The same unhurried cuts he'd use on any ordinary morning.

Thud. Crack.

Heavy and Fierce Sword was grounded in strength.

One swing took a neck. Another split a skull.

Black blood and gray matter spread across the ground.

A few drops of Ghoul blood spattered Enkrid's body.

"The foundation of the Correct and Precise Sword is waiting."

Ruagarne spoke from behind him. The road was the practice ground, every step a continuation of training.

The teaching had begun.

* * *

A scab had formed on his cheek.

Running a finger over it, Rem found himself thinking back to the day he'd first met Enkrid.

More precisely, the day he'd first had his fun at the man's expense.

"You want to spar? With me?"

What is this guy, he'd thought.

This Squad leader who'd shown up swinging his sword every day like he was fighting for his life, and now he wanted to go at it.

Third-rate at a glance. Second-rate if you were being generous. By the soldier tier system, somewhere between low-rank and mid-rank.

A man with remarkably little talent.

"I think there's something I can learn."

What weapon had Enkrid been using when they first started? He grabbed whatever was nearby, but back then it had been swords.

Two swords, one in each hand, swinging away.

Same habits as an axe-user.

Easy fight.

Thump.

Enkrid caught his foot and hit the ground rolling. Landed badly, scraped his face.

Some of that had been deliberate.

Some noble's pretty-faced brat as Squad leader, was he.

Mess up the face and you'd see a reaction. He'd been curious about the man's background too. Noble? Someone's blood? Military backing?

None of that.

Enkrid, face scratched up, ignored his own wound, stood, and said:

"Can we go again?"

"Again?"

A nod.

Half-mad?

Honestly, Rem had never met anyone more reckless than himself.

He'd hit him. Knocked him around. Put a knife-line on his throat to scare him. Sliced the skin of his forehead and made him bleed.

Blood from a forehead wound covers the eye. People who'd never had it happen didn't understand. The world turns red. A strange kind of fear, that.

Still, the new Squad leader hadn't backed down.

Even with his face painted in blood, looking every bit like a blood ghoul.

"I'm curious, what are you planning to do if you die from this?"

Mid-spar. Rem had room to spare. Enkrid did not.

The man who'd kept coming at him through the changing seasons, steadying his breathing, answered:

"Then I guess that's the end."

Completely insane.

That's the end?

That wasn't supposed to be an option.

"You're in bad shape."

Rem said it and, that day, taught him the Heart of the Beast. If he was prepared to die, fine, something would come of it.

Turned out to be a waste.

His disposition wasn't suited to learning the Heart of the Beast. He'd close his eyes when things turned dangerous, which meant the boldness never took root. Even with eyes open, he couldn't see properly. His body seized at critical moments.

"You really have no talent."

The words came out on their own.

And yet the Squad leader's spot, which had swapped hands so many times, stopped changing.

He survived. Stubbornly.

Was sparring with him enjoyable?

Hard to say. It was just something he did. The man wasn't some remarkable figure in his life. Rem liked women, so it wasn't anything strange in that direction either.

Just, watching him felt agreeable somehow. Like watching bright sunlight, or dry open plains, or a beast running across them. Something you just liked looking at. Nothing more.

He's going to die doing this.

Watching him throw himself into battles, Rem had found himself lending a hand. At least he didn't want to watch the man die in front of him.

Sparring continued.

Time passed.

"How did you do that?"

Enkrid had taken on the Heart of the Beast.

From that day, he started to change.

His skill grew. Sometimes visibly, in sudden leaps. Other times, painfully slowly, barely moving at all.

Through all of it, had Enkrid changed?

No. He was the same.

Same as the very beginning.

"Spar?"

His words had gotten shorter since the first day, and by now Rem knew exactly how that mouth of his could flip everything inside a person upside down.

Still, the sparring continued.

A scratch on the cheek. The scab hardened.

Ha. Enkrid? That Squad leader?

Rem had needed to show something real. He'd nearly reached for the skill he kept buried.

No. Not yet.

A personal wish, if he were being honest. Just not yet. He still needed to be playing above Enkrid. He wanted to keep at it a little longer.

To do that, this wouldn't do. Getting caught up with, fighting seriously, where was the fun in that?

To tease and spar at the same time, he couldn't fall behind.

Not even for a moment.

That one strike that scratched his cheek, even if only by a hair's breadth.

He'd been caught.

That sat badly. There was even a flicker of impatience creeping in.

On top of that, the question Kraiss had thrown out during the battle had lodged in his chest.

"Can you handle a squire?"

"If they come at me, I can kill them."

He'd answered seriously because the question was serious.

There was something oddly forceful about this big-eyed man too. Curious creature. That surprisingly sharp-minded one had nodded at the answer.

Meaning he'd understood even from that much.

I can kill one, but not while thinking about what comes after. Life on the line, maybe fifty-fifty? Honestly, the odds sat somewhere between thirty and forty percent.

After that question, Kraiss had apparently decided to avoid the enemy's main force. The battle had played out that way, which made sense. Probably the right call.

That had stung his pride all the same.

"Tight-lipped lazybones."

That was why he hadn't followed along. There was work to be done here. That idiot probably felt the same way.

Rem's words drew Ragna's head up from where he'd been half-leaning against the lodging wall.

"Want to go at it with half a life on the line?"

The usual playful tone, but something real underneath.

"...Let's."

Ragna stood. The lazybones had changed. Even without Enkrid there, something like a flame had come into his eyes.

Rem headed for the training ground without a trace of amusement.

"Hey, big guy, come if you want."

He called for Audin on the way.

"Ha, the Lord calls."

Audin smiled and rose.

He left Cat out of it.

Frontal combat was never that one's specialty to begin with.

If needed, he'd show up.

Cat wasn't the type to come just because you called. And above all, he was a genuinely cunning creature.

Rem was a hunter by background. Cat was the kind who hunted in the dead of night, or hunted people.

At one end of the training ground, Rem picked up his axes.

Ting. He clicked the two blades together and took his stance.

"Don't blame me if you die."

Ragna said from across the way.

"Look who's talking."

The two of them moved.

Every soldier training nearby stopped and became an audience.

Clang. Crack. Ring.

Each impact sent a deep sound rolling across the yard.

Three of them rotating through the sparring.

The ferocity made everyone watching click their tongues.

"I want in."

The Elf Company Commander stepped forward.

"We're putting half a life on the line here."

Rem asked.

She just smiled and drew her sword in answer.

Her Naidhl, shaped like a leaf, caught the light.

Statement enough.

After that, she showed that her skill was every bit their equal.

They fit together. No one said it, but everyone understood they felt the same, you could see it in the exchange of blades, the clash of fists.

Not yet.

Truly not yet. Even if it was the stubbornness of an eight-year-old troublemaker dead set on staying ahead of Enkrid, they'd decided to be fully in this moment.

Putting half a life on the line. It was the beginning of change, and an acceleration.

All four had been called geniuses.

All four were sharpening themselves.

Only, they weren't stopping at sharpening.

Rem pushed Ragna, Ragna pushed Rem, Audin slipped in between. Sometimes Jaxon crashed the party. The Elf Company Commander rotated through them all.

When things got too serious, the rest would pile in together to break the tension, ease back out, then do it again.

Talent was bursting open. By the time Enkrid returned, there would be more to show him.

* * *

Back on the road, Enkrid was finding the journey rougher than expected.

"Kraaah!"

One pack of monsters after another kept leaping out.

Well, he wasn't complaining.

For Enkrid, every encounter was a chance to train, a proving ground.

= = =
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried

= = =

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried