WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 227: Sparring, Sparring, Test

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"How did it come to this?"

The rapier swordsman was used to teaching.

Because he taught so often, his eye for people had gone beyond familiarity and become true skill.

A Frog's talent reading came from that race's inborn gift, but the rapier swordsman's eye was clearly from a different school.

It had been forged from personal talent and accumulated experience.

From what he saw, Enkrid had definitely improved.

So much that it was hard to believe he still had no Will.

At times, when those blue eyes flashed and he drove forward with a storm of chained strikes, his pattern even cut off his own retreat.

"Built on the Correct Sword."

And he had mixed in Heavy Sword. He was moving toward one complete form.

His opponent had exceeded his expectations.

At first, he had not expected anything at all.

That was how he had judged his talent and skill.

Without question, this was the first time his judgment had been this wrong.

It shook the rapier swordsman. It struck his heart and stirred his mind.

"Instruction, then sparring."

He had decided that from the start.

He had wanted to walk the path of a knight, but his talent had fallen short, so he turned away.

Even so, he had never lost to someone without Will. That was still true now.

"He improved."

It was remarkable, and the skill was excellent. But the black-haired man before him still could not face a true squire.

That was his judgment.

Clangclangclangclang!

Blade met blade again and again, sparks flying.

Between the relentless exchanges, blue eyes narrowed long and sharp.

"Even his footwork."

It was no joke. He had crossed human limits. That much was certain.

If his opponents were lazy fools who trusted mediocre talent and stopped there?

The man in front of him would win.

Then what about his loss to Swallow Blade?

He had seen that fight, and now he had crossed swords with him himself.

"If the goal is not killing, if the goal is fighting, if sparring comes first."

Swallow Blade was the opposite. That bastard fought to kill.

Even then, the difference had only been a hair. To his eyes, it was just a question of who took that first step first. Swallow Blade had not even noticed.

Hadn't his skill improved so much he was nearly unrecognizable?

It was enough to shock anyone, again and again.

That was why.

Those words telling him to give up had stuck in his mind and made him pick up his sword like this.

He started slowly, evenly.

There was no need to swing while showing his full original skill.

Even so, he stayed fast and strong, and the art mixed in was Flowing Sword Style. He blended softness into speed. Strike while flowing, flow while striking.

He wanted to show that this kind of swordsmanship existed too.

At the same time, he set up a game of moves.

If someone told you to dig into only one form, saying "Correct, Heavy, Illusionary, Quick, Flowing," that was bad teaching.

Having a specialty was fine, but learning all five sword forms was right. At the very least, you needed to skim all of them.

Why?

Because you have to know to block, know to dodge, and know to do anything at all.

That was why.

In that sense, the rapier swordsman forced diversity in swordsmanship. He also showed that a game of moves did not always have to take the shape of the Correct Sword.

For example.

"Flow it away."

As he moved to flow the blade aside, Enkrid's eyes flashed. It was a trap.

Enkrid brought down a vertical slash that looked like it could cleave anything. It was a lightning strike.

The rapier swordsman moved as if to meet it blade to blade, then twisted aside.

Flowing Sword Style, flowing without contact.

The lightning-like blade sliced through empty air by a hair.

Whoom! The sound of torn air rang out clear.

Was it a high-grade form, or a deeply mastered one?

Then he raised his point and thrust, and Enkrid's posture naturally broke.

From there, the advantage belonged to the rapier swordsman.

He kept pressing. Slowly, little by little. It was a craft called frog-killing.

To boil a frog, you start with cold water and heat it gradually.

The foundation of this swordsmanship was pressure.

Words spoken through the sword.

"You cannot cross this point. This is where you end."

He pressed and pressed, and in the end, the target was penned in and forced to stop.

Enkrid had run into a wall he could not cross, not with Heart of Superhuman Strength, not with Sense of Evasion, not with every sword art he had learned.

So did he despair?

He had no time for that, and even with time, he was not the kind of man who thought that way. Enkrid simply swung his sword with weight.

Still, the rapier swordsman did not like that either.

The spar had gone in a completely different direction from what he had expected.

To put it simply, he saw no flash from his opponent.

"Was he not the hidden genius I missed?"

If not, this growth rate made no sense.

Then why was there no flash at all? Why was the color of that talent so dull?

He had expected the frog to leap out of the pot. At least kick once. But all he saw was it slowly drying to death.

"We stop here."

"Huff, huff, that was good instruction."

Enkrid showed respect.

It deserved respect. This man had not aimed for his throat, and he was not after fame. He had appeared out of nowhere and taught him.

"I'll go today too."

The half-giant stepped forward with sword and shield.

This spar had not put much load on Enkrid's body. He only needed to catch his breath. Enkrid nodded.

Their fight was similar to before.

Its intensity and brutality made it dizzying to watch.

If the fight with Swallow Blade was the kind where your body might be pierced or cut apart at any second,

the fight with the half-giant felt like some part of your body could be crushed at any moment.

Enkrid endured head-on.

His injuries stayed around the same level as day one.

This time, the half-giant showed a trick, grabbing the tip of her sword and swinging it like a blunt weapon. She also shook her shield up and down, mixing in feints.

Enkrid answered by mixing Heavy Sword and Correct Sword to drive her back.

It looked like he was applying what he had just learned from the rapier swordsman.

Of course, the rapier swordsman was not satisfied.

"No growth."

A genius showed change after even one spar.

But this Enkrid, at best, fell into the ordinary range.

That bothered him.

His eyes narrowed on their own.

"All right, that's it for today. If you're bored, take one contract each and clear nearby Magic Beasts. The reward is generous, and it will loosen up your stalled pace."

"That's not bad."

At Kraiss's words, Swallow Blade lit up.

His hands were itching so badly he felt like he would die.

More than anything, both opponents he had seen today looked tough.

One was his hard counter, and the other seemed to be hiding his real level.

"Crazy bastards."

Even so, he could not run now. If he ran because of his situation, Black Blades might send an extermination squad after him.

He had spent the bandits' Krona recklessly this whole time.

Now it was time to bet his life.

Most of all, his murderous urge made his blood boil. If he ran now, he would not be able to swing his blade however he pleased for a while.

"Ah, I want to kill."

He craved the feeling of piercing soft flesh.

But he could not kill some drifter in the city and get beaten to death by a mob, so he could not kill just anyone.

The men around him looked ready to foam at the mouth and jump him the moment he tried something.

Every one of them had sharp eyes and strong skill.

"I got myself seriously trapped."

He had never thought this would be easy, but now everything had twisted into a mess.

"I'll just cut down Magic Beasts."

That was a rational decision.

Kraiss nodded and spoke to the soldier who had joined them.

"Yes, this way."

With the guiding soldier leading Swallow Blade away, today's sparring ended.

Enkrid had to be half-carried. His thigh muscles were trembling too hard for him to walk.

"This much gets better with a little rest."

Enkrid said.

"Yeah, sure."

"It will heal, yes, but if this keeps repeating, it can still ruin your body, brother. Faith is good, but we were told to avoid overconfidence."

Audin recited, mixing in scripture. Trust your body, but do it in moderation. That was the point.

"Mm, right."

Enkrid nodded. Of course, not even a dog would believe him.

"When we get back to the lodging, let's do some simple Hand Blade sparring."

Ragna said.

"If you sharpen your senses, it's easier to predict one move ahead."

Jaxon spoke from the side.

Everyone seemed to have a lot to say.

More precisely, they did not seem happy watching Enkrid get battered around.

Was it different when they were the ones beating him?

Enkrid did not care.

What did that matter?

He had a mountain of things to do right now.

He had learned and practiced, but he still could not do everything at once. That could not be helped.

Then he would just take another step.

At least now, something like talent had settled into his body, so he was no longer stuck like before. Even that alone was huge progress.

With those stray thoughts, Enkrid returned to the lodging and continued Hand Blade sparring with Ragna.

"You're really doing this with an injured body."

Finn clicked her tongue when she saw.

Finn looked pretty busy these days too. She whispered with the Elf Company Commander, and she had been going out before dawn often.

"Where have you been going lately?"

Rem asked, sounding bored. Finn answered roughly. She did not even look at him, just sorted her gear while speaking.

"I heard night dew is good for your skin."

"...He's messing with me, right?"

Rem muttered. Enkrid agreed inwardly, but he took Finn's side.

"That's your victim mindset. You have a habit of taking people's words the wrong way."

It was not revenge. It was definitely not because Rem kept saying his head was broken.

"Hm?"

As Rem frowned, Ragna shoved Dunbakel forward.

"Go. Go do what you're supposed to do."

And what exactly was that supposed to be?

"Huh?"

Dunbakel moved toward Rem against her will.

"Ah, right. Training. It's been sparse lately, huh?"

It had only been two days since getting hit twice a day had been reduced to once.

So what was sparse about that?

Dunbakel cursed him with her eyes, and Rem looked pleased.

"Yeah, that look, that spite. Good. Today we'll get fired up and get hit, no, train!"

Dunbakel wanted to cry, but her pride held back her tears.

Then those two went out.

Enkrid kept doing game-of-moves sparring.

Time passed like that, and when his body healed again, he grabbed one of the people staying at the inn and jumped back into sparring.

Swallow Blade was a master of sharp cuts and unpredictable irregular attacks.

Enkrid could learn from him too.

The half-giant swung sword and shield with heavy force.

It was a harmony of Heavy Sword Style and shield technique.

Correct Sword was mixed in, but the deeper you went, the more varied her Heavy Sword and shield techniques became.

Even the shield charge that had crushed him at first was still threatening.

Show even a tiny opening, and she would press in with monstrous stamina.

In pure stamina, Enkrid did not fall behind, but her huge frame itself was already a weapon.

The rapier swordsman stayed the same.

Every time, he repeated the same thing.

Edin Molsen also kept charging in without rest, but he was no match. After getting thrown hard backward and knocked out in their third spar, he stopped talking about rushing in so easily.

His guard stepped in instead.

"Name?"

"No need for you to know."

A blunt, prickly man.

Enkrid did not care. He also did not care why the man was only stepping in now.

He was just glad to have one more good opponent.

So he smiled.

"You're definitely not normal."

The guard said. Enkrid ignored him.

The guard's swordsmanship was based on Flowing Sword Style. Flow, then stab into the opening.

It felt familiar to Enkrid. He had seen it before. It was no mistake.

Things he had reviewed and replayed countless times were not things he forgot.

"This."

It was a technique from Azpen's side.

More exactly, it was the style of the man Enkrid had cut down with his left hand. Some opponents leave names you never forget.

That name was Mitch Hurrier. The Hurrier Family symbolized Azpen's military might.

So was this man a spy?

He did not care.

As long as he was a worthy opponent to cross blades with, that was enough.

So they clashed.

They fought and collided. Their skill was even, and he could not win easily. Enkrid was not focused on winning.

"If you were trying to kill, you'd have died a hundred times already."

Rem said, needling him, because he did not think Enkrid was a man with only one stubborn style of swordsmanship.

"What do you get from killing?"

This was not a battlefield. They were people who had come to test skill.

When it was time to speak through swordsmanship, he just wanted to do that.

"He's smiling again? You really find this fun?"

Swallow Blade laughed often. His smile deepened, and his tone grew rougher.

He kept smiling while picking at Enkrid's smile.

In that state, he kept crossing blades with Enkrid.

At some point, only Enkrid remained in Swallow Blade's head.

He had been filled with thoughts of killing his opponent, but no other impulse interrupted.

Only one person remained.

All his killing intent converged on Enkrid. Even for Swallow Blade, it was the first time he had felt that.

The half-giant went through something similar. She felt something else instead of killing intent.

"Why does he keep charging?"

She was ahead. That was clear. If the man called Enkrid had truly wanted to kill, sure, he could kill someone like Swallow Blade.

But the rest were too much.

In truth, Swallow Blade surely had hidden trump cards too, so if they fought with their lives on the line, the odds would be fifty-fifty.

That was her judgment.

Even so, did this sparring leave anything behind?

Then why was he enjoying it so much?

"Good, today it's you."

Why was he so happy even while getting beaten by her like that?

He raised his sword with a faint smile, and the emotion on his face was crystal clear.

Clear even to her, someone who was bad at reading emotions.

He looked like a child.

A child meeting a moment of pure joy.

That same innocence, as if a birthday feast were about to begin.

She had heard that man was not so young.

Then why did he make that face?

"Let's begin."

How could he say it so brightly?

She did not know. One thing was clear. Everything about that man was making her blood boil.

Fighting spirit. Competitive spirit. The giant blood mixed in her body surged.

At this moment, she was not a Cultist but a warrior. And for the first time, she wanted to be a warrior, not a believer.

It was the moment a crack formed in what had been carved into her through brainwashing since childhood.

In that moment, she recognized and awakened desire beyond the Cult's teachings and orders.

Something she had always felt quietly in life swelled up.

Feelings she had never shown, feelings no bishop and no one else knew, tangled in her chest.

"You're really a weird one. You."

The half-giant said.

Her speech was clumsy, but her meaning was clear.

"I told you from the start. He's broken up here."

Behind Enkrid, a gray-haired subordinate pointed beside his own head and spun his finger in a circle.

She had ignored that attitude at first. Now she understood it.

"Yeah, you're broken."

The half-giant said it. And she was too.

Enkrid, as if it did not matter, pointed his sword forward.

"I said let's fight."

He only craved battle. He showed his hunger. He enjoyed the moment.

A smile-like curve rose on the half-giant's lips before she noticed.

Enjoying the act of fighting itself, this was a first in her life.

It was full of newness. Meaning filled even this blade work that had once felt pointless.

She could not help but smile too.

And so the free-for-all sparring continued, again and again.

More than ten rounds against each opponent.

At times, Enkrid was badly injured.

At other times, it ended with minor wounds.

After all that sparring piled on sparring, the rapier swordsman shook his head.

"No, still not it. This is your limit. But I might have judged wrong, so I should test it. Can you overcome it? That is all I want to know."

Muttering that messy monologue, the rapier swordsman faced Enkrid.

Before Enkrid could make sense of it, countless blades rose from the rapier swordsman's body.

Enkrid had already experienced this once.

From Eisia, a member of the Red Cloak Knights.

Will, formless blades of intent, tempered Enkrid's entire body.

It was Oppression.

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