WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Abstract
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES
Chapter 188: The Manticore and the Bear
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"Even if they're just a bandit group, we can't ignore the Black Blades' military strength. If we bring them in, Martai will tuck its tail and retreat."
Martai was a Naurillia city with a tangled history.
Sometimes it belonged to the eastern Mercenary King, sometimes it returned to Naurillia.
Because of that, it had become a mixed city of two peoples. At present, it was a Naurillia city, yet also territory ruled by a man calling himself a general.
In other words, half Naurillia, half eastern city.
And Martai had just announced it would send Border Guard something close to a declaration of war.
So of course this kind of talk came up.
The man speaking was one of Border Guard's nobles.
Border Guard had several nobles. Their power was pitiful compared to the central nobility, but they were not men you could dismiss outright.
Each of them held real influence in the city of Border Guard.
The bastard in front of Marcus was one of those petty nobles.
What was his name again?
Marcus didn't even remember.
'The one stuffing his face with Black Blades gold.'
That was all he remembered.
To Marcus, he was basically one of the Black Blade Bandits.
He wanted to cut him down right there. He wanted to lop off his head and act like nothing happened, but...
The Elf Company Commander was his subordinate in public, but she was no ordinary subordinate.
Any move he made around her felt like it would come with a price.
Marcus trusted his instincts.
For one reason or another, he couldn't just split this man in two.
To begin with, Marcus wasn't some rabid brute. He wasn't the type who solved everything with a sword.
More importantly, if he thought a little harder, killing this man wouldn't be difficult at all.
Narrow-minded bastards were always easy to bait.
"Martai's advance is a headache, but we can handle it by focusing on defense."
Marcus cut him off. The Black Blades noble jutted out his lower lip, then pulled it back in.
If he had said one more thing, Marcus might really have snapped and cracked his skull.
'Not that I'd actually go that far.'
Still, he could make him feel that way. Publicly, Marcus's nickname was War Maniac.
He had crafted that image and that nickname on purpose.
Marcus stared at him without expression. You could call it a glare, or just a steady look, but the effect was obvious.
The war maniac's cold, brutal eyes shut the noble's mouth.
Once he'd silenced him,
"Next item?"
It was a regular council meeting. Border Guard was both a military city and a fortress city.
Just because they had pushed Azpen back didn't mean there was no work left.
Even now, news was coming from the south that some nobles had failed to properly deal with demon creatures, then exaggerated their reports, and now a fairly large group of Demon Creatures was moving north.
If they left that swarm alone, it would become a real problem. So it had to be handled.
The fact that unrest in the southern monster zones was affecting northern Border Guard was, frankly, a complete mess.
'Bastards.'
Nobles were rotten anyway. All they cared about was their own land and their own wealth.
This was exactly why people said kingdoms collapsed.
That nameless noble in front of him was no different. Marcus couldn't stand the sight of him.
If he kept dwelling on this, he'd die young.
So Marcus deliberately forced his thoughts elsewhere.
They landed on Enkrid. That noble was someone whose name he didn't want to remember, but Enkrid was someone he couldn't forget.
'He jumped into a gnoll legion to save Pioneer Village?'
That story was enough to make anyone marvel.
They said he had cut down a thousand gnolls alone.
There was probably some exaggeration in there, but one thing was certain: his skill had improved. The 4th Company Commander had confirmed it herself.
"In a real fight, no one could easily guarantee a win."
Marcus alone had sensed the Elf Company Commander's true skill.
She was better than most famous warriors. Her battlefield record proved it.
And that same elf acknowledged Enkrid.
'She used to call him a brute with terrible skills and nothing but insane training.'
People had also called him a lucky soldier.
Nonsense. It wasn't luck. It was skill.
He had the character to match it too.
It didn't always show on the surface, but his attitude and the results of his actions made it clear.
Most of all, the look on Enkrid's face when he spoke of his dream remained etched in Marcus's mind.
Battlefield, sword, and something shining.
Could he really become a knight?
Marcus had seen countless people across long years. Rationally, he could say it with certainty.
It was impossible.
But if he spoke only from what he'd seen and felt from Enkrid himself,
'I don't know if he can, but I hope he does.'
Day or night, he was the same.
No matter how the weather changed, he was the same.
Unchanging. Every day alike. The kind of man who lived each day as if it were this one. A sudden urge rose in Marcus to help that man keep walking forward.
A soft smile touched Marcus's face.
Seeing that, the Black Blades noble suddenly spoke again.
"I think it's unreasonable to appoint him straight to Company Commander without even giving him a proper formation first. Even the mission he used to prove himself is widely rumored to have been exaggerated..."
It was about Enkrid's appointment.
At those words, Marcus's brow tightened. The corners of his mouth dropped. His expression hardened.
"That's enough. It's my decision. If you don't like it, then you be the Battalion Commander."
When it came to bringing in the Black Blades, Marcus had still left room to probe even while refusing.
The moment Enkrid's name came up, that mercy vanished.
His stance was unmistakable: no objections, no opinions.
If anyone challenged him here, he looked ready to cut them down for real.
The Black Blades noble hated that more than anything.
But he couldn't kill Marcus.
'Son of a bitch.'
So all that anger turned toward Enkrid.
If someone received cheers, trust, and love,
then somewhere, someone else would hate him just as deeply.
The Black Blades noble, one of Border Guard's core power figures, was exactly that person.
He hated Enkrid. Hated him for no reason at all. He even wanted to kill him immediately.
After the meeting ended and all the nobles had left,
the Elf Company Commander looked quietly at Marcus and said,
"Who gave you the nickname War Maniac?"
The elf was quick-witted, and Marcus didn't bother denying it.
"I did."
"You're clever."
"I'll take that as praise."
It was the truth. Marcus didn't truly love war, and he wasn't some lunatic obsessed with fighting.
He had simply made himself look that way from the outside.
Why?
It gave him a convenient excuse to stay out of central politics, and it was useful for making enemies drop their guard.
In reality, Marcus wasn't exceptionally gifted at warfare either.
He knew how to send troops at the right time, but his real talent lay elsewhere.
Like having a palate sharp enough to pick out good tea.
"By the way, you don't use that joke on me?"
The banter between Enkrid and the Elf Company Commander was fairly famous around the barracks. That was what he meant.
"I happen to hate jokes."
The Elf Company Commander said that and turned to leave.
Marcus mulled over what she meant, then let out a dry laugh.
"Man, this is hard. Elf-style humor."
It had to be elf-style humor. Naturally. That elf loved jokes.
* * *
The Black Blades noble's name was Bansento.
Bansento had grown up in a border region crawling with monsters.
The Cursed Grounds had a strong influence there, and food was always scarce.
So to young Bansento, everything was something you took, not something you bought. That was normal.
A human life was worth a loaf of bread. Sometimes bread was worth more.
Bansento survived that merciless childhood and somehow drifted into a city.
Luck stayed with him, and he managed to build a small merchant company.
Its growth came with swords and blood, fists and threats, but nothing became a fatal obstacle.
Around then, he made contact with the Black Blades.
Their power was overwhelming, and it became a solid backer for Bansento's rise.
After ten years of that life, he sold his company and paid a huge sum to become a noble.
Just like in childhood, he built his life by taking what he wanted.
Now Bansento's target was Border Guard.
More precisely, he wanted to swallow it whole using the Black Blades' power.
He had no hereditary noble blood, and his title had been bought with gold, so there were obvious limits he couldn't easily cross.
That was why Bansento wanted something greater than a title.
A city, for example.
That was the future he dreamed of.
A land ruled by the Black Blades, with himself holding the city.
Becoming this place's mayor and castellan didn't sound bad either.
'When that happens, I'll grab that elf bitch first.'
That elf, the 4th Company Commander, left his mouth watering every time he saw her.
"Should I kill Marcus for you, or that unruly brat?"
"Not Marcus."
If he died here, the center would pay attention. Bansento didn't want that.
"Then we'll weed out Enkrid."
At Bansento's words, the Black Blades member serving as his guard nodded.
That guard also found Enkrid irritating, for some reason.
'They sure love hyping up a nobody.'
A common trick. Sparring? Anyone could fake that with coordinated platoon men.
All the stories going around were flimsy.
A thousand gnolls? Ridiculous. What was he, some squire? A knight-order member?
He had seen Enkrid's skill once. Not recently, but a few months ago he'd watched him train in the barracks.
'Useful, but...'
Still below him. That was his judgment. Narrow-minded people always decide that only what they've seen is true.
Enkrid had changed absurdly since then, but he never tried to look properly. He dismissed him as a joke and stopped thinking there.
'Though those platoon men...'
They were impressive. Very.
The kind of men who were still hard to handle even two-on-one.
Why fighters that good were wasting themselves in a frontier fortress city, he couldn't understand.
In any case, the plan was moving smoothly.
The Black Blades kingdom would start here.
Small at first, then bigger and bigger.
Naurillia would disappear, and a Black Blades kingdom would rise.
Lost in his own dream, the guard, a Black Blades member, released a pigeon.
The bird would carry the message.
Even when removing a single annoying stone, the Black Blades never used people carelessly.
That was the kind of group they were.
Of course, they had bigger goals than just killing one man.
* * *
After receiving contact from inside the city, the Black Blade Bandits sent ten warriors.
Every one of them was formidable.
The captain leading them, for example, had once been a known name in mercenary circles.
A beastkin named Dunbakel. Despite her delicate looks, her scimitar style was quick and devastating.
It had made her a city-class powerhouse.
In simple terms, she was strong enough to make a name for herself in any city.
The other nine who came with her were at roughly the same level.
"Pressure them? So you want us to scare them a little? Fine."
Dunbakel nodded. She had been paid, so she'd do the job.
That was right before they entered Border Guard.
Dunbakel's nose twitched. A pungent, sour scent, with a damp rot underneath.
The smell of a magic beast, or a demon creature.
Mixed in with human scent too.
Dunbakel's head snapped sideways.
A man in a black robe stood there.
Beside him was a magic beast, its vicious eyes gleaming.
"What are you?"
Dunbakel dropped into a fighting stance immediately.
The other side did the same.
One quick-witted Black Blade Bandit read the mood and said,
"Doesn't look like he's here for us."
By chance, both groups had come targeting Border Guard.
One side was the Black Blade Bandits.
The other was an assassin sent by the Cursed Ground Holy Sect.
They had already sent assassination specialists several times, and every time contact was lost.
That meant something was happening inside that city.
He had come both to confirm it and to stir up some chaos in that clueless city.
"Who are you?"
the cultist asked. He was either a monk or someone who used cult techniques, not someone to treat lightly.
A quick-witted subordinate answered for them.
"Black Blades."
"Your objective?"
Dunbakel had had enough of the cultist's tone and was about to lunge when a subordinate behind her grabbed her arm.
Why?
Dunbakel asked with her eyes. Why not just cut this pathetic cultist's head off?
She didn't like him. The subordinate shook his head.
She tried to shake him off, then restrained herself.
After all, she was basically in a hired-mercenary position.
Even as captain, she held that spot by force alone.
A subordinate standing farther back rolled his eyes, then said,
"This could actually be a good opportunity."
"Handle it."
Dunbakel sounded cold. She clearly didn't care, folded her arms, and looked away.
Once Dunbakel stepped back, one of the Black Blade Bandits and the cultist quickly struck a deal.
"Then we'll each take our own profit."
"Our objective is clear."
They would remain wary, but move with the same objective.
"I'll start."
The cultist said it with a twisted smile. He reached out and stroked the mane of his magic beast.
Grrrrrr.
The growl sounded like a hellhound clawing its way up from hell.
And calling it that wouldn't be far off.
It was the kind of magic beast that made people shiver just by looking at it.
Three rows of razor-sharp fangs, a tail like a scorpion's, and a lion-like body and head.
Its eyes glowed slit-yellow, and every claw looked like a finely honed knife.
A manticore, a high-grade demon creature said to be able to devour an entire company on its own.
"Go. Enjoy your feast."
At the cultist's command, the manticore shot forward. Its steps were terrifyingly fast, and with one hard kick off the ground, it ran up the wall.
It didn't even need to go through the gate. It simply crossed the wall. That was no ordinary high-grade monster.
"Kuh-huh-hung!"
A roar that drove terror into its foes, the manticore under the moonlight, and in front of it,
'A bear?'
Dunbakel narrowed her eyes.
Something bear-like seemed to be standing in front of the manticore.
It was far away, and moonlight alone wasn't enough to make it clear.
Still, something was definitely there.
He might have taken plenty behind the scenes, but outwardly he was still a Naurillia noble.
So if she cut him down, it would count as the murder of a noble. At least she couldn't do it in front of witnesses.
'Better to kill him in secret.'
Of course, that wouldn't be easy either.
The man attached as the noble's guard looked formidable at a glance.
'Should I start sounding out the 4th Company Commander?'
Wasn't that elf a born assassin?
With senses that sharp and movements that quiet, couldn't she slice off a neck like his in one stroke?
'Still, that would be a burden in its own way.'
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