WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 191: White Lion

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Audin quite literally toyed with the Manticore.

He made it look that way just by smacking its face.

After taking those hits, the Manticore tucked its tail and edged backward.

Grrr.

Its sharp teeth, torn fur, and dark blue blood were scattered across the ground.

When it tucked its tail, Audin still wore that gentle smile and crooked a finger.

"Time to leave, brother Demon Creature."

His tone stayed the same, but the meaning did not. It was a death sentence.

The Manticore pulled one paw back. Anyone could see it was scared.

It looked ready to bolt. Most of the soldiers watching thought so, but Audin did not.

A Manticore was an upper-grade Demon Creature, and a very crafty one.

It would draw back like that, then suddenly lunge forward. A true surprise strike, without sound or warning.

Its raised claws stabbed in, and its tail slammed down from above.

Audin expected it. He swatted aside the foreclaws, seized the tail, then added the creature's own rushing force and slammed it into the ground like a throw.

Boom!

A blast of sound burst out.

Grrngh!

A pain-filled groan spilled from the Manticore.

It was an upper-grade Demon Creature, a monster that could face an entire company alone, but it had met the worst possible opponent.

When it hit the ground, stone shards sprayed in every direction. The startled soldiers had now turned into a cheering crowd.

"Nice!"

"Oh!"

"Madman!"

Why they had to add "madman" was beyond him.

Audin walked over and slapped the Manticore's face a few more times.

After throwing the monster around again and again, he suddenly climbed onto its back, grabbed its neck, and snapped it backward with a crunch. The Manticore stuck out its snake-like tongue.

Its eyes rolled back, it let out a thin final breath, and collapsed. Its forehead hit the ground with a heavy thud.

The upper-grade Demon Creature that had been getting smacked around was now an expensive corpse.

Teeth, hide, organs, every part of it was worth good money.

"What are you?"

A voice full of disbelief came from one side. It was opposite where the soldiers were gathered. From Audin's position, the soldiers were to his right, and the voice came from the left.

"I do not believe a Demon Creature like this would come alone. Where are you from, brother?"

Audin stood up on the Manticore's back, moonlight behind him.

Where his words pointed, a Cultist had climbed onto the gallery at the end of the wall.

Audin had expected this. He had to.

Upper-grade Demon Creatures were clever and sharp.

A Manticore was not stupid enough to see a human fortress and rush it.

After getting beaten this badly, it kept attacking to the end? That did not fit either.

Unless it was starving badly.

No, even then, he had shown it openings where it could have slipped away, yet it kept pressing to the very end.

That meant someone was controlling it.

Audin waited for that person to appear.

That was why the fight took so long. The instant he felt that presence, he killed the Manticore.

It had outlived its use.

"How dare you!"

At that shout, a bluish light flickered in the man's eyes. Audin recognized it.

A trace of the Cult.

He was a servant of the God of War.

"So you are a brother who serves the Cult."

It was a low murmur.

In his days sent out as an Inquisitor, there had been times like this too. Days spent beating down Cultists.

The Cultist with glowing blue eyes raised his hand. The motion was still in progress.

The soldiers were too shocked to finish a sentence.

An opening.

Boom!

Audin vanished. Or that was how it looked. The body that kicked off the ground closed the distance faster than the Manticore.

Bang!

A second boom rang out, separate from the sound of his kick.

To the soldiers' eyes, only a lump flying to one side and embedding into a wall remained.

Its fingers twitched in the air. Then it was just a corpse.

"As God watches over us."

Audin's prayer echoed faintly as he recited it alone.

Where the soldiers' eyes turned, a monster with the build of a bear stood frozen with his right fist extended.

Audin of the Madmen Platoon.

A member of the unit now rumored everywhere to become an Independent Company.

The soldiers did not even properly see Audin's strike.

The event happened, and only the result remained.

From that extended-fist stance, Audin brought his hands together and returned to his usual self.

The soldiers checked the flying lump. The shattered body was wedged where it had slammed into the gallery wall.

On the half-caved body, one thing that should have been there was missing. Above the neck was empty.

"Where did the head go?"

No one knew. The only clear thing was that this crazy zealot had erased a man from the world with one punch.

The radial spray of blood on one side of the gallery was the proof.

"...I seriously pissed myself."

The smell of urine rose between one soldier's legs.

It was scarier because they had not seen it properly. How could a human like that even exist?

Dead Manticore, dead Cultist.

Most soldiers still had no proper grasp of the situation.

At least one squad leader who climbed up onto the gallery late started trying to take control.

"Attack, uh, neutralized? Looks like there's noise outside too, so maybe more came. Everyone get down and support..."

"There is no need for that, brother."

Audin said it while still staring blankly below the wall after his prayer.

"Huh?"

"It's ending."

In Audin's eyes, he could see his company commander fighting.

He had known from all their sparring, but seeing his commander in real combat felt different again.

'You have improved further, brother.'

In the way he used his body and swung his sword, things appeared that had not been there before. Confidence, and faith with it.

Anyone who knew his earlier self would call this a staggering leap.

That made Audin deeply glad. What could he do, he had come to simply hope that man did well.

'Your servant asks. Is this your will? Did you guide him?'

His Lord still did not answer.

But now, he did not absolutely need an answer. Audin too had gained a small realization here.

It had started through Enkrid.

'Needing an answer may be proof of my own weakness, so I will move forward without demanding proof and without doubt.'

A man lived like that over there. A man who followed the words of scripture and pushed through hardship without bowing to anything.

How could watching such a person not bring joy?

Audin had once wished blessings upon Enkrid, who burned his life away.

But he had seized blessings for himself and moved forward.

So now, he could pray for him, but he no longer needed to beg God for anything on his behalf.

"Good."

Good in what way, the squad leader had no idea. He blinked at the bear-like man.

But was it really fine not to go down?

The commotion outside still bothered him, so he moved his feet anyway. When he went down, he saw a soldier with a hole in his belly and another with blood pouring from his thigh.

"That one is a spy."

The soldier clutching his stomach said it. He was pressing his own clothes hard against the wound, probably to stop the bleeding.

The squad leader said to the soldier behind him:

"Detain him."

The squad leader picked up the spy Enkrid had left behind and checked outside through the open side gate.

From atop the wall, that fight had not been visible clearly.

Out there, one person in black was cutting and stabbing through a black-clad group alone.

It was a very familiar face. The most famous bastard in Border Guard right now, the mad squad leader himself.

* * *

The Black Blade Bandits were in absolute hell. Dunbakel most of all. This was a first for her.

"A knight? No, a member of a knight order?"

Dunbakel spoke, one hand resting on her scimitar. Was this opponent just too bad a match?

Or had they come here without knowing what they were walking into?

Five of the people who came with her were now corpses.

Two had lost a leg each.

Even if a high-ranking priest came and poured divine power into them right now, they would still end up limping.

Of course, such a priest would never come, and even if one did, there was no chance he would spend divine power on them, so they would be crippled.

That was only if they were lucky. Looking at how much blood they had lost, they were about to die soon anyway.

The one who made this situation was flipping his sword back and forth and giving small nods as he inspected it.

He did not even pretend to hear her words. He looked relaxed.

"What the hell are you, really?"

Dunbakel asked in disbelief, and Enkrid just shrugged again.

Against someone who came with killing intent, unless he planned to explain from top to bottom that his dream was to become a knight and he was not one yet, there was not much to say.

More than that, Enkrid looked at the sword, more precisely, the blade.

'This thing cuts ridiculously well.'

He swung to cut around the thigh, and it split thick leather pants cleanly.

The cutting power was exceptional. Was that because the blacksmith had sharpened it well, or because the sword itself was excellent?

He decided it was both.

The balance around the pommel grip was good, and the leather wrap fit his hand perfectly. Along with its cutting power, he liked the sword's toughness a lot.

At a glance, it looked solid.

It did not seem to be Valerian Steel, yet it was a high-end blade of very high quality.

For Enkrid, this was his first time holding something this expensive.

A sword like this really was a first.

"Not coming?"

Enkrid called out lightly.

He wanted to use this sword a little more. And the techniques now settled into his body, too.

He had dismissed Rem as someone frustrated and pent up.

'Am I the same?'

Somehow, he was itching for more fighting too.

Dunbakel frowned at his words.

'Where the hell did a bastard like this come from?'

Even his smell was different. A beastkin's sensitive nose could be a measure of an opponent's level.

To be exact, it was more in the realm of instinct for keeping oneself alive.

Dunbakel was starting to get a clear feeling.

'Looks like this is my grave.'

Then should she run?

She did not want to.

Well, had she not lived half her life ready to die anyway? If so, closing the book of life here was not so bad.

She had wanted to die in battle, and that was why she stood here. Dunbakel steeled herself.

More than anything, the one stepping up as her last opponent was not bad. Looks and skill, both were to her taste.

'More than enough.'

Thinking that, Dunbakel let out a short laugh without realizing it. A laugh that did not fit the situation.

At that sound, the only Black Blade Bandit left alive shot her a glare.

From him came the smell unique to someone terrified.

It smelled close to piss.

"Hey, do you want to live?"

Dunbakel asked the remaining comrade, a bandit whose name she did not even know.

"What?"

Like, what the hell is this crazy woman saying now?

"Never mind."

The instant she finished, her swollen, muscle-packed fist smashed into his face.

Boom!

A heavy impact rang out.

"Ttughk!"

He let out a short, strange death cry, and his feet lifted off the ground.

From one punch, his right eyeball, which had been forced inward, popped back out, blood sprayed, and shattered facial bone jutted out to the side.

No, some of it broke and scattered all around.

He had been tense and focused only on Enkrid. One side of his face caved in, and of course he died.

"Good burial ground."

Dunbakel spoke with her fist still extended. She did not explain what she had done. She showed her true self instead.

"Hey, let's fight properly."

The moment Dunbakel said that, her eyes changed. Her pupils split vertically like an animal's.

Grrrrrr.

What made lycanthropes and beastkin different?

It started with appearance.

Normally, beastkin were humans with animal traits mixed in.

That was why they did not pull transformations like this.

Even if something wild settled into them and caused slight shifts, they did not end up with full wolf heads.

Fangs might lengthen, eyes might change, and fur might grow a bit, but they still did not leave human form by much.

That was how ordinary beastkin were.

Dunbakel was different.

With something human still left in her while beast blood surged through her whole body, she began to change.

Rustle.

Long white fur started growing all over her body.

The structure of her face cracked and reshaped into that of a lion.

Enkrid had seen a few beastkin in his life, but this was his first time seeing anything like this.

Why is she transforming?

The explanation was long, but the change itself happened in a blink.

"Demon Creature?"

Enkrid asked. Can that bastard even speak?

That form resembled a lycanthrope's.

Of course, her appearance was that of a lion, a white-furred lion at that, and the presence she gave off was entirely different.

To be honest, she looked less like a monster and more like a guardian from some legend or myth, the kind that guards a heavenly temple.

At least that was how Enkrid felt, but the first word that came to mind was still Demon Creature.

"Grrr, I hear that a lot."

Dunbakel spoke with a growl. It was a verbal habit that came out when she transformed.

From her aura, her attitude, and the way she spoke, Enkrid felt something strange.

When she said "burial ground," it did not sound like she meant his. It sounded like she wanted to die herself.

Well, that was probably not what mattered.

"You coming?"

"Of course! Grr!"

The instant she finished, boom, the White Lion kicked off the ground and charged.

The claws on her left hand shot out and slashed wide, and with the opposite hand she swung the scimitar she had drawn before anyone noticed.

Claw and blade crossed as they aimed for Enkrid's chest and waist.

Enkrid saw all of it without missing a thing. He held his sword upright and chopped forward twice in a snapping motion.

Both were cut-off strikes, impact-loaded blows.

In that instant he activated Heart of Superhuman Strength, a defensive method that gave no chance for a bind.

He beat them away by force.

Clang!

Thud!

He knocked aside the claws and knocked aside the scimitar.

Even so, the beastkin did not pull back.

An unyielding charge, a rush made with death already accepted.

Enkrid could have been startled in that moment.

They were that close, and as if she had expected her attack to be blocked, the White Lion threw her neck back and drove her forehead forward.

'Vallen Style Swordsmanship?'

A headbutt after a charge, it was a familiar attack.

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