WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Abstract
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES
Chapter 254: So You're Saying You Want to Die
= = =
People on the continent often said this about Easterners.
“They are tenacious, rough, and stubborn as hell.”
Hans was one of those Easterners.
And among the Easterners who had stayed in Martai, most of them shared the same mindset.
‘Let’s see what you can really do.’
In other words, they held a grudge against the current lord.
Hans was one of them.
“They blocked a colony? Fuck, this has to be rigged, right?”
Hans, who knew his way around dice games, came to his own conclusion.
In dice too, once the game is rigged, huh? The same guy keeps winning.
When Martai was in danger, they often asked the Eastern Mercenary King for support.
Then they lost a battle, the lord died, the commander changed, and after that the territory fell under Border Guard control.
Then suddenly a major threat hit the territory, and a few Border Guard soldiers came and drove it off.
‘Fuck. I hate every part of this.’
To Hans, the whole thing felt like complete bullshit.
If a few of them could drive those monsters off, then it was not truly dangerous to begin with, was it?
Unlike the soldiers who had stood on the battlefield, Hans had turned into a local thug, so he never saw Enkrid fight.
At the time, he was busy getting drunk and passing out. He treated the territory’s danger and his own safety as separate matters.
The two factions had quietly split.
And the under-the-table cooperation between Easterners and continentals also helped keep information from flowing properly.
Still, anyone who needed to know did know, but Hans only listened to what he wanted to hear.
He was a textbook fool.
The one thing he could do was throw punches, and he made bits of silver by selling those fists here and there.
‘Even if I went out and fought.’
A few ghouls would not be a problem, right?
Man-Faced Hounds? Were they not just mutts with human heads stuck on?
Grab a spear, stab once, done.
Getting done in by wild dogs, and you call yourself an Easterner?
An Easterner’s virtue was supposed to be courage, cutting down a lion with a single sword.
That was what the Eastern Mercenary King had done.
At eighteen, he killed a lion with one sword.
It was a beast that had bitten dozens of people to death and tasted human flesh.
That was the first tale that proved the Mercenary King on the eastern plains.
“He must be carrying some relic or pulling tricks.”
A companion said that. More precisely, he jabbed Hans in the side. Egged him on. Then he handed him wine, and Hans took a swallow.
It was sweet, like honey had been mixed in.
It was not that strong, but maybe because he drank it while worked up, he felt dizzy for a moment before it quickly passed.
Hans clenched his asshole so he would not look drunk, acted fine, and said,
“Not very strong, but it tastes good.”
“Just got this in. Not bad, right?”
His companion did not seem to notice he was swaying from the alcohol. He just smiled. Hans gave a big nod. His movements grew exaggerated. Hans did not notice his own movements changing.
After that trivial exchange, the companion kept talking.
“When you see him in person, he just looks like an idiot. All he has is a pretty face.”
And somehow, women were falling for him left and right just from his face.
His nickname was something like the Alluring Squad Leader.
What kind of fucking bastard is this?
“You know Reni, right? Looks like she totally fell for that alluring idiot too.”
Reni, the tavern owner’s daughter, was the woman Hans liked.
His insides boiled, while people around him cheered like some hero had returned.
The mood made it hard to show his displeasure, so he forced himself to swallow it.
Then, after the excitement died down, he heard the alluring idiot and his group were at Reni’s tavern.
“If you really went up against him, he probably would not be much. Hans, maybe you could.”
His companion said it while offering more wine. Hans chugged it, and confidence he did not even have began to rise.
The sweet, burning liquid ran down his throat and filled his stomach, and something hot rose from his lower belly.
‘I’ll beat that bastard.’
If not now, then when would he show Eastern courage?
Hans entered the tavern with that thought and glared at him.
Seeing him in person, the guy really did have an idiot’s face.
He looked like he belonged as some noble lady’s bed attendant, so how the hell was he a war hero?
Hans also saw Reni. Her eyes would not leave the reddish-brown-haired man with half-lidded eyes and tightly shut lips.
Why the hell does he look like that too?
Fuuuck.
I am supposed to swallow this even after seeing it?
Hans was a well-known thug. He had rarely lost a fight.
Hans stood up.
Scrape, bang!
He pushed himself up in one burst, and the chair slid back and toppled over.
The only people in the tavern were the alluring idiot’s group, Reni, and a few villagers.
A few of them frowned.
What is that thug bastard trying to do?
* * *
Enkrid found it refreshing.
‘This is a provocation, right?’
He asked Rem with his eyes.
Rem blinked. He looked awkward too.
Rem’s gaze swept over the group.
Audin, Dunbakel, Teresa.
Those three alone were enough to make most people think twice before starting anything.
And there was Rem too.
Not to brag, but it was rare in this territory to meet someone who casually picked a fight.
Enkrid had always had a pretty face.
Maybe people looked down on him for it.
But there had just been a battle.
If someone knew about that, if someone had seen it, and if stories had already spread through the territory.
‘And he still comes at us?’
What is this? What kind of idiot is this?
Enkrid looked at Rem once, then studied the other man.
His sharpened perception, now in the realm of instinct, scanned the target.
Traces of training, degree of muscle development, hand position, habits in footwork, even the chain of movements from kicking off the chair to standing up.
After taking it all in, he lightly put his left hand forward and slid his right foot back.
Anyone with eyes should have known what that stance meant.
But the other man showed no sign that he noticed.
Really. Not at all. Not even a little.
“Hey, do not swagger around so much in someone else’s territory.”
That was what he said.
“Kill him?”
Dunbakel asked. Only then did Enkrid remember what the lord had said.
Take it easy.
“I’ll do it.”
Enkrid said and stood up. Nobody cared. The other man’s eyes grew redder. No, his eyes were seriously bloodshot now.
Not that it mattered.
“You bastard!”
The enraged man rushed in. Enkrid twisted aside, dodged the swinging fist, pressed his forearm, and tapped the man’s thigh with a kick.
Every movement happened in one flow.
Natural and smooth.
Rem and the others saw it, and their eyes lit up.
An application of Flowing Sword Style.
He was doing it with his body. A technique he had become absorbed in lately.
With Enkrid’s shove, the other man looked ready to smash his head into a tavern table.
But Enkrid did not just watch. He grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him upright.
The man had thrown one punch, then suddenly thought, what the hell just happened?
Enkrid shoved him again. Hans stumbled and caught his footing.
Fuck, what is this?
For some reason, his anger flared even higher.
Unable to hold back, Hans put a hand on the knife at his waist.
“If you pull that, you die. From there, there is no going back.”
Rem said it while chewing rusk. Sugar was all over his mouth, which made him look very convincing.
Hans did not hear him. He could not live unless he buried a knife in that bastard’s gut at least once.
Normally, by now he should have come to his senses and dropped to his knees, or turned and run, but that thought did not come to him at all.
Everyone had to die. He could not share the same sky with this bastard.
He was so worked up his brain stopped functioning.
It was not natural.
Enkrid felt something was off.
He was watching, wondering if he should break one of the guy’s limbs.
Snap!
With a crisp sound, the bastard’s eyes rolled back while his hand was still on the knife, and he collapsed forward.
Jaxon, who was standing behind him, caught him, laid him down, pried open his eyes, then opened his mouth and smelled his breath.
“...What are you doing? Got a hobby for smelling breath?”
Rem said.
Jaxon ignored him and spoke to Enkrid.
“Someone used a drug.”
A drug?
He continued, explaining that if used wrong, it could leave someone a lifelong idiot.
“His judgment was dulled, and he was hypnotized.”
His tone sounded like someone with deep expertise in this field.
And it was an accurate diagnosis.
Clap clap clap.
Someone was applauding.
“As expected, you noticed that.”
He was a man with a leather canteen at his waist, two knives at his right hip, and a shortsword on a sword belt at his left hip.
As he walked, the sheathed shortsword swung against his thigh.
You could tell from his gait alone. He could fight.
Not even comparable to the man who had charged in earlier.
Enkrid stared at him blankly without answering. What is this one now?
No one reacted, but the man kept smiling and walked closer, unbothered.
He had a rat-like face.
“Greetings.”
He offered a greeting, and again no one answered. Even Rem, who usually did not enjoy answering silence with silence, only folded his arms and stared. Sugar still covered his mouth, but if things turned ugly, he looked ready to swing that badly balanced fire axe, or the halberd once used by the Centaur leader.
Enkrid’s senses told him Rem was fully ready.
If they left this alone, that guy was just going to die.
“Who are you?”
Jaxon asked the question.
“Ah, how should I introduce myself.”
The man pretended to think for a moment, spread his hands in front of his chest, clasped and unclasped them, and joked around.
Should I just kill him?
You could almost feel Rem thinking it.
“Wait.”
Enkrid said.
‘Wait for what?’
The only one who did not understand was the other man.
He brushed it off and said,
“I came from Black Blade.”
Black Blade was a bandit group.
Enkrid let his arms drop. He had never had a good talk with those people.
The bastard waved his hands.
“I did not come to fight. I only came to deliver a few words.”
There were tavern staff and a few patrons around.
He did not care and kept talking.
“Would you consider switching sides?”
He asked with a grin, and Enkrid mulled over the question before answering.
“So you want to die?”
“I came with sincere goodwill. You know this, right? Black Blade does not really know how to give up. What I showed you just now was only a sample.”
So sending that idiot after drugging and hypnotizing him was the sample.
“This is a truly good offer. An opportunity. Please think again.”
The man was serious. Enkrid was serious too.
“So you want to die?”
“Pfft.”
Rem, listening behind him, burst out laughing.
He could already predict what Enkrid was about to keep saying.
He knew Enkrid’s verbal habits and the way he used his tongue, so he saw it coming.
“Black Blade will not give up. I am only a messenger. And Dunbakel, do you not have a debt? Do you think you can ignore that and walk away?”
The Black Blade messenger leaned his head forward and said it while looking at Dunbakel.
Dunbakel had used force as a mercenary for Black Blade. She had carried out requests, signed contracts, and taken payment.
But none of that meant anything anymore.
After that, she had wandered around trying to die.
Could that really be called a debt?
“Yeah.”
Dunbakel nodded.
For the first time, the messenger flinched.
‘This crazy bitch has gotten even crazier.’
That was what he thought.
“Hah, this is truly troublesome. Let me say it again. This is a really, really good offer. We can let Dunbakel’s issue slide, and we can give you anything you want. If you want to become a knight, we can even get you into a knight order.”
The messenger spoke, and Enkrid kept a blank expression.
A knight order, huh. That meant they already knew his goal.
He had talked about it plenty here and there.
It was also proof they had looked into him.
‘Well? Will you reject this offer too?’
The man asked with his eyes.
Enkrid opened his mouth with deliberate calm.
“So, do you want to die or not? Why are you not answering the question?”
Pfft.
Only when Rem laughed a second time did the messenger’s expression change.
‘These bastards? Do I really need to show them?’
He flicked his finger. A covert signal invisible to his opponents.
It was time for the assassins on the roof to drop in.
Silence.
Hm?
The man flicked his finger a few more times out of sight. Only then did something drop from the roof with a whoosh.
“Kyaaah!”
A tavern worker screamed when she saw it.
Thud! Thud!
Two corpses.
There were holes in their necks. Then the reddish-brown-haired man standing beside them spoke.
“That seems to be all of them.”
Ah, fuck, what is this now?
He knew these people could all handle a blade, but how were they finding top assassins this easily?
The messenger’s face twisted even harder.
“If you kill me, Black Blade will...”
Whoosh, thud! Whirl, smash! Boom!
“Kyaaaah!”
The messenger spoke while reaching for a smoke bomb at his waist.
Rem saw it and threw his axe without even taking a breath.
His right hand looked like a blur. Enkrid’s enhanced senses caught every step.
That badly balanced fire axe flew, showing off its blade instead of fire, buried itself in the man’s skull, and the force lifted the Black Blade bastard’s legs off the ground and hurled him backward. His back slammed into the tavern wall, then he collapsed on the floor.
That was all.
The Black Blade messenger became a corpse.
The maid screamed again at the sight, and Jaxon searched the body with practiced hands.
He pulled out neatly folded papers, a leather pouch, smoke bombs, poison, and knives.
Inside one of the folded papers was a strange powder.
It looked like a drug used to bewitch people.
“Do not panic too much. If you contact the barracks, they will clear this out.”
Enkrid said it while standing there. A fly had simply buzzed into their meal.
It was noisy, but he did not think it was anything major.
If anything, what stood out was Rem’s axe throw and Jaxon’s movement.
“Heh, looks like your allure can move even a bandit crew, brother.”
Audin tossed out a pointless joke, and the group started moving again.
Whether Black Blade played tricks or not, they were going to see the dwarf.
That had been the point from the start.
The dwarf was eating wine, cheese, and bread at one side of the forge.
Clang! Clang!
As if steel noise and furnace heat meant nothing to her, she licked melted cheese off her fingers.
Rumors spread so fast in this territory that while they were out looking around the market, news of what Enkrid had done seemed to have already spread everywhere.
The dwarf looked over everyone and said,
“Looks like you can fight a bit?”
Her tone was cheeky. Enkrid looked at the dwarf.
How old was she?
Different races did not match appearance to age, so she might have been older than him, but by looks she seemed like a short fifteen-year-old girl.
Of course, not an ordinary girl. She was a muscular girl whose neck looked thicker than his.
Still, her features were compact and pretty.
Kraiss had not been talking nonsense when he said she was pretty.
Though by ordinary standards, calling her a beauty still felt a little uncertain.
“You think that is pretty?”
When Rem mocked him, the dwarf said while chewing,
“I can hear all of that, gray head.”
Her way of speaking was definitely fiery.
And Rem was still Rem.
The barbarian smiled softly and asked Enkrid,
“You planning to get stuffed dwarf decor or something? Feels like I just picked up a freshly dead dwarf.”
= = =
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried