WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 253: A Stimulating Night

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If you realize something, move. Act right away.

“If even the smallest clue comes to mind, do it immediately. If you put it off, it will slip through your fingers and be lost. What slips away and gets lost usually stops being yours. Miss it, and it disappears. Even the smallest realization should be engraved into your body by moving.”

He remembered it as a short lesson.

It was at a swordsmanship Training School in the Gate Territory, right before entering the southern continent, and the instructor had brown skin.

Enkrid did exactly as he said. He stood up at once.

He had only just returned to the territory today. Whatever he had been doing before, whether it was time to sleep, none of it mattered to him.

When he stepped outside, the sun was already down.

The sleet had stopped, and the ground was muddy. A torch on the stand beside him burned bright, lighting the area.

Fwoosh.

The wild horse he had saved looked at him.

Without a word, Enkrid passed the horse and began moving his body in front of the barracks.

‘What muscles matter when swinging a sword?’

All of them. The forearms affected grip strength, and a strong waist became the foundation that supported a centrifugal strike.

‘When cutting flame.’

His thoughts continued until he reached the moment he had cut through flame.

A spell cast through a scroll.

It had been shocking and mysterious, but what had happened in front of him was simple: a fireball had been fired at him.

He recalled that movement.

He swung his sword in a line perpendicular to the ground.

‘Back.’

Inside Enkrid’s head, the muscles of his body split and scattered.

He crushed the five senses together and opened a single intuitive sensory field.

Then he observed his own body and turned that into continuous training.

Enkrid mimed chopping firewood.

This was the movement he needed right now. At the same time, he observed the motion of his own muscles.

It was the start of change. The base of growth. Something that would become a cornerstone.

People were watching from inside the barracks. The Madmen Company.

Dunbakel drooled, slurped it back, and rose from her seat.

If she copied that too, would she get something out of it?

“Don’t, sister. You’ll wreck your body.”

This time, Audin stopped her. He restrained her and stepped forward.

A man was out there doing something close to moonlit madness, and Audin found him truly fascinating.

‘Why do You grant joy to this sinful one?’

Audin murmured to his master, his father, his god, and took a step.

What was Enkrid trying to do right now?

He was not just following instructions. He was in the process of finding joy for himself.

He was walking a path where he observed what his body lacked, understood it, and trained it anew.

How could that not be joyful to watch?

He had taught the Isolation Technique, or weaker versions of it, to countless people.

Still, none had reached this realm.

In all that teaching and learning, finding people who felt joy in the process itself had always been difficult.

“Weight, center, breathe in and fill your belly. If your center breaks, it’s all useless, brother.”

Audin stood beside him and spoke. Enkrid absorbed every word.

Yesterday’s technique and today’s technique would be completely different.

Up to now, it had been habit and inertia. Starting today, he would row like a boatman who had found his bearing, guiding his skiff in the right direction.

That made Audin so happy he laughed out loud while teaching.

Loud enough that passing soldiers turned to look.

Everyone’s pupils shook.

“Why are they like that?”

“I heard he came back today.”

“Why is he dancing around with a rock in his hand?”

“So the Madmen Company isn’t called that because they fight like madmen, but because they’re actually insane?”

Those kinds of words passed around. From their point of view, this was not normal.

Inside the lodging Audin had left, Rem quietly pulled the door shut.

“Cold wind’s coming in.”

Dunbakel regretted it being closed. She wanted to watch more of what Enkrid was doing.

“Hey, just ignore it. Don’t pretend you get it. If someone’s going to go crazy, at least do it neatly. Why do that at bedtime? It’s embarrassing just being nearby.”

No one responded to Rem. They were always like that.

Dunbakel could not hold back and went outside. Rem did not bother stopping her.

Truth be told, he had a lot on his mind too.

‘Seriously.’

What kind of man was that?

He went to war and fought.

He showed absurd force and did not get excited.

He brushed off the cheers of the people he had saved.

He saw an axe with sorcery mixed into it and still felt no greed.

Gold coins and jewels did not move him either.

Then he dropped into meditation, eyes unfocused, drooled, and ran outside to do that.

‘Is that normal?’

No. It was not. But that abnormal sight still stirred Rem too.

And had he not just gotten an axe that held flame?

It was clearly an item imbued with sorcery.

That was why he could handle it so easily.

There had been a grudge in the axe too, but Enkrid had erased it.

Rem looked back on what he had left behind when he departed his tribe.

Things he would need to reclaim someday.

As those thoughts kept coming, he began digesting the stimulus Enkrid had given him.

Rem gripped the axe and sank into his own world.

There were times when physical training mattered most, and times when refining and manifesting what one already had mattered most.

For Rem right now, it was the latter.

For Ragna, it was the former.

He also could not take his eyes off Enkrid. Even after Enkrid left, he stared blankly at the door, and kept staring after Rem closed it.

It was the same when Audin went out, and the same when Dunbakel followed.

‘Was this what it felt like?’

Like his blood was boiling?

If blood literally boiled, a person would die.

Still, that was exactly how it felt.

In a lodging that felt spacious and cramped at the same time, he sat on the edge of a bed.

Ragna felt his blood bubbling. His pounding heart told him something too.

Go out now and swing your sword.

But he did not.

The custom training sword made back in Border Guard was terrible.

‘Muscle strength.’

Ragna was a genius, and he had recognized his shortcomings long ago.

He had already established his training method too, but he needed help from tools.

Things he normally would not need.

‘Look at that man.’

How could anyone see that and stay calm?

That was why impatience had entered a laid-back genius.

It was an intense impression that pushed him onto a road he had never wanted.

So Ragna decided to make his own tool.

Could a dwarf blacksmith make what he wanted?

Ragna yearned for it.

He wanted to go further.

This was beyond simple motivation to swing a sword. It was a fierce stimulant.

It felt like touching poisonous mushrooms or drugs he should never touch.

His heart and head shook and burned on their own, beyond his will.

It was not just those three who were stirred.

Teresa’s eyes trembled nonstop behind her mask.

What made that man move like that?

The answer was inside her.

‘The joy of battle.’

The instinct for struggle, the blood of giants, moved. Teresa kicked the door open and went out as well.

She felt she would never sleep unless she sparred with him right now.

It would be an untimely moonlit spar, but did that matter? It did not.

Teresa kicked open the door and stormed out.

‘What’s with her now?’

Kraiss looked up from examining jewels and various items.

Every last one of them was abnormal.

Through the open door, he saw Enkrid and Audin, with Dunbakel beside them.

Dunbakel heard a few words from Audin, then froze in a half-crouched stance.

Whenever she wavered even a little, Audin smiled, grabbed her shoulder with his palm, and pulled.

“Ow! That hurts!”

Dunbakel spoke. Pain was suffering, and suffering had the power to make people open their mouths immediately.

“It’s meant to hurt, sister. So fix your posture.”

Audin’s voice carried over.

Then Teresa muttered something beside them.

He could not hear it. A few nearby soldiers glanced over to watch, and the wild horse watched it all indifferently.

Kraiss felt a flicker of concern, then ignored it.

In his hand was an expensive ruby nicknamed Crimson Flame.

‘If I get proper payment for this, it’ll be worth more than several hundred gold coins.’

What was it called, some explorer’s tomb? And there were more tombs like that across the continent?

Should he switch to being a Treasure Hunter while he was at it?

‘No.’

That was something he should never do, even with extra lives.

No matter how great a swordsman was, one wrong step on a trap and he would be knocking on heaven’s gate, or swimming in hell’s river.

‘Better to stick around here.’

Enkrid was someone who caused upheaval.

If he stayed by that captain, they might find another tomb, and even if not, similar opportunities would come.

Besides, the Border Guard guild was already bringing steady profit.

He wanted to live buried in gold coins.

With eyes full of gold, Kraiss looked outside, then spoke to Jaxon beside him.

“Anyway, they’re all weird people, right?”

He said it without realizing how it sounded. Normally, Jaxon would have ignored him and let it pass.

“Are they?”

But an answer came back.

‘What’s with this guy now?’

Kraiss turned to Jaxon.

A similar fire burned in Jaxon’s eyes.

Cold, but hot.

That was the feeling.

Jaxon had been stirred too.

“What do you want from a technique made for killing?”

It was a question his master had asked him.

Why had he asked that then?

“You enjoy this too much. I don’t know if I should be teaching you. Well, not my concern.”

His master’s words rose again. The man had been broken in many ways, but those words had not been false.

Jaxon had enjoyed learning techniques.

He had also enjoyed honing techniques for killing.

After carving in his master’s words, his past-life experience, his goals and purpose, and all of that, he had forgotten enjoyment.

He had not needed it.

But now, someone had forcefully dragged up a desire he had buried deep beneath the abyss in his chest.

‘Ah.’

Jaxon’s heart pounded like when he first held a blade.

Urge and desire merged into a stimulant that made him want to swing his sword.

What if he honed Sensory Art further?

He wanted to revisit every technique and train through all of them so he could go farther.

His desire for growth boiled over.

All of this happened because Enkrid had run out under the moon.

Because it was happening inside each of them, the lodging stayed quiet, yet it was still a moment of clear change.

“Anyway.”

Kraiss shook his head and focused on his own business.

So the night of stimulation passed, and Enkrid rose at dawn the next day as well.

Before, using Refusal had been so enjoyable. Now, training the Isolation Technique was so fun it drove him mad.

Just moving his body felt like a special stimulant.

After morning training, the lord invited them to a meal.

“Let’s go fill our stomachs.”

Enkrid took everyone with him.

“I should thank you again, but what was that last night? Why were you doing that under the moon?”

Even the lord, who knew Enkrid, said that much. Last night had been that unusual.

“It was a good night for training.”

Enkrid answered roughly. Even if he explained in detail, they would not understand anyway.

That someone like him could not miss even a tiny clue.

That he set his life in that direction and kept moving forward.

That his dream now touched his fingertips.

How could he explain all that one by one?

“Fine, enough.”

The lord gave up trying to understand.

Breakfast was a feast.

Perfectly roasted lamb, marinated pork ribs, steamed catfish, butter and cheese, wine mixed with milk and water, and clear water on the side.

The standout was the bread.

Its white, soft interior truly made Martai worthy of being called the territory of bread.

“This is incredible.”

Even Rem admired the meal.

“What about the blond one?”

the lord asked.

“He likes sleeping in.”

Kraiss answered instead.

He meant Ragna. Enkrid did not care, and the lord let it slide.

In the first place, were they not all madmen?

Not responding to a lord’s summons was nothing unusual for them.

Resting well and eating well were important too. Enkrid ate and drank without pause.

Their unit members did the same.

“They eat well.”

The lord offered thanks to those who had fought for his territory.

Since taking over the territory from the captain of the garrison, he had gained a certain weight to him.

“Are you heading back this afternoon?”

“No, we’ll stay a little longer before we go.”

When Enkrid said he planned to place a request with a dwarf, the lord nodded and said,

“The locals here can be a little rough. Even so, I’d appreciate it if you keep things moderate.”

What was that supposed to mean?

With catfish in his mouth, Enkrid nodded casually.

After finishing the meal, they moved their bodies again for a while.

The effects of last night’s stimulation lingered.

Only after washing off their sweat did they head to the market.

Kraiss guided them.

“I already learned the routes.”

It was a habit of his to read the surroundings, including escape paths.

The first place they reached after entering the market was a small tavern.

Martai’s market was lively, but the roads were narrow and crowded.

They saw newly built houses here and there, and also round-roofed buildings. Temples.

Seeing that, Rem carefully said, “Go check that out, captain,” but Enkrid ignored him.

As Kraiss entered the tavern, he said,

“The bread here is another specialty. I think it’s called rusk? They sprinkle sugar and butter on it, and the taste is really...”

He gave a thumbs-up as he spoke.

That was how good it was.

It was bread that had not appeared at the breakfast feast.

Just as Kraiss said, it was excellent.

It was not soft, it was hard, and they said it was made by baking already baked bread one more time.

So was that not basically half burning it?

Still, if it tasted good, that was enough.

So they had rusk and deeply steamed duck for lunch.

It did seem like they were focusing only on moving, eating, and drinking.

After lunch, they planned to go see the dwarf.

While they were still eating, someone kicked the tavern door open and walked in.

“What are you staring at? Bring me a plate of bread.”

Then he sat down and fixed his gaze on Enkrid.

From the way he opened his eyes to his overall attitude, it was obvious. Anyone could see he was picking a fight.

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