WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 286: Ageless Madman

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The instant the words left his mouth, a sharp spearhead dropped from above.

A straight vertical thrust. Rem kicked off the ground. The moment he flung himself aside, the spear tracked him as if it had eyes.

It changed direction in midair on its own.

'Inherited Weapon?'

Before he could finish the thought, Rem swung both axes.

With the axe in his right hand, he smashed the shaft. With the axe in his left, he turned it flat and blocked the spearhead with the broad face.

Thud, crack!

Half success, half failure.

He blocked the spearhead, but one of his already cracked ribs snapped from the impact.

Still, he had broken the shaft, so that counted as half a win.

'Got tricked.'

It was not an Inherited Weapon. Inherited Weapons were relic-like armaments passed down in the west.

Of course, those were completely different from what this continent called relics.

No real Inherited Weapon would break that easily.

He had struck it on purpose, expecting one. He had planned to sever the connection in that one blow.

Because an Inherited Weapon absolutely required a link with its owner.

"Not bad."

What went unsaid was, for holding out.

The westerner came into Rem's view.

"What are you?"

Rem asked. He was baffled. That one exchange had told him enough.

'He's strong.'

Power, speed, and precision in how he targeted his opponent.

Every part of him was exceptional.

He was far beyond some sloppy mercenary.

"You step onto a battlefield where people kill and die, and you're asking questions?"

The man answered while lightly tapping his own shoulder with his trademark throwing spear.

He looked completely at ease.

His appearance was strange. A leather cuirass over his chest, leather guards from shin to thigh, and matching guards from the back of his hands up to his shoulders.

His whole body was wrapped in leather.

His hair was graying, but only half his face was wrinkled. The other half was pale and smooth like a child's.

Anyone could see it was unnatural.

The man let go of the spear he had been tapping on his shoulder. Instead of falling, it stopped around knee height and floated in place.

'What kind of bullshit trick is that?'

What was that now?

'A technique?'

It was not a spell or sorcery. No, it definitely gave off a sorcery vibe, but the spear itself had no sorcery power.

So it was not an Inherited Weapon, yet it floated there by itself.

Showing weakness would gain him nothing, so Rem raised his left arm and casually covered his side.

Pain followed, but if he could not endure even this much, he would have died long ago.

"Come quietly."

"Where to? Home? Why? You giving me something?"

Rem ran his mouth out of habit while looking for an opening. Every time he prepared to throw an axe, the other man shifted his footing.

More than anything, that floating spear bothered him. It stayed within a fixed radius around the man, bobbing in the air, and looked ready to shoot in at any second.

'Where did this thing even come from?'

Just before this, three wolf magic beasts had wrecked his ribs.

It looked easy from the outside, but it had been a brutal fight.

The Cultist Wolf Bishop had blown up in rage over losing his beasts.

But the beasts were not the real problem.

"I'll rip your tongue out."

Whoosh.

The moment he finished speaking, a throwing spear shot in.

Not from in front of his right knee, but from the left hand he'd slipped behind his back.

Rem traced the trajectory in his head and swung his axe.

It was the same axe strike Enkrid often said looked like a beam of light.

Boom!

A heavy crash rang out. One spear got knocked away, and Rem felt a sharp tremor run through his hand from the impact.

Then the spear floating in the air shot in too.

Not an Inherited Weapon, yet he used it like this?

There was no time for answers. Rem kept swinging.

Clang-clang-clang!

Spear edge and axe edge collided, throwing red sparks through the air. Hot flecks scattered, and heat rose around him.

He forgot the cold as sweat began to stream down his body.

Even the warmth of the Warmstone tucked against him started to feel irritating.

Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!

Even then, the spears kept pulling back and stabbing again.

He knocked them away over and over, and they kept coming back.

After blocking around eighty spear strikes, Rem stomped down with his left foot and shattered a stone lodged in the ground.

With a pop, fragments burst forward.

A thick chunk of stone blocked the space between them.

Thud!

A spearhead pierced the stone and stuck. Just for a moment, it restricted the spear's movement. Rem immediately smashed the remaining spearhead aside with the axe in his right hand and bent its course away.

Then he threw the axe in his left hand.

The left-hand axe reached the enemy's head in an instant.

As usual, it looked like it would split his skull.

Instead, it stopped in midair.

Bzzzz. The blade and haft trembled.

"So that's what you've been using this whole time."

Rem said it, finally catching on.

The other man tilted his head.

"So you're only half-baked?"

With that pale skin that did not match his white hair, Rem now knew who he was.

In truth, he had figured it out earlier.

"You're the lunatic chasing agelessness, the Ageless Madman, right?"

"Knowing that won't save you."

He said it with a gentle smile. The smile looked grotesque all on its own.

With a face like that, it was only natural.

Rem remembered stories he had heard back in the tribe, then shoved them aside.

"Half-baked brat who never learned properly. And that left side, how many are gone now? Two? Three?"

The man asked.

Rem had pushed himself too hard with cracked ribs and ended up breaking two of them.

He had only held on by locking his muscles and enduring it. If things had gone even a little worse, broken bone could have pierced a lung or organ and killed him.

And he could not deny the half-baked remark either.

It was true.

Rem had relearned part of what he learned in his tribe in his own way.

But he had abandoned other things he truly needed to learn and inherit.

So yes, half-baked.

"So you're a fool who never even mastered the art. No Inherited Spirit either."

Whiiiiing.

As he spoke, the man pulled a small metal pellet from his chest.

A blue beast shape shimmered around his left arm.

'Ah, sorcery.'

And spirit-invocation sorcery at that.

That left arm now carried beast strength on top of his original force.

Even the simple stone in his hand felt like a huge threat.

Rem thought for a brief moment. Sorcery, spirit invocation, all that crap aside, his ribs were busted, and his left ankle had also taken strain from blocking the two spearheads, but he shoved all of it aside.

'Go all in and kill him?'

If he gambled his life, he could do it.

But did he need to?

On the outside, he looked like a dumb warrior who never retreated, but Rem was a man who lived however he pleased.

So.

"Hey."

He called out. The ageless madman, the bastard who massacred a western tribe and stole all their secret arts, answered.

"Why?"

"See you again."

"...What?"

Rem pulled out two fist-sized balls wrapped in paper.

Pop!

The moment the man saw them, he threw a spear.

At the same time, the balls in Rem's hand burst.

Gray smoke quickly billowed up and blocked the view.

Whoosh!

The spear tore through the smoke. A moment later came a boom and crack, telling them it had smashed a tree.

"You little bastard?"

The Ageless Madman listened closely. His target was also a skilled hunter.

A hunter was as good at hiding as at chasing.

Still, giving up would be ridiculous.

The Ageless Madman closed his eyes, then opened them.

Blue light soon bled from his eyes.

Sorcery.

As the sorcery activated, the madman's eyes pierced through obstacles.

"Run all you want."

The madman moved.

He followed the trail his eyes had found.

His pace was not the slightest bit slower than Rem's.

* * *

"Did he go out to play?"

It was almost a mutter to himself. At Enkrid's words, the whole company nodded as if they agreed.

"He'll come when it's time. Whatever."

Enkrid was not worried about Rem at all. Not because he had no room to worry right now.

It was because that was Rem.

A mad barbarian. The man who gave them the nickname Madmen Company.

"He might've gone back to where he used to live."

Jaxon made a pointless comment. It sounded like wishful thinking.

Those two really did have a warm relationship.

Now that Rem was gone, listen to him sounding all worried.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about."

Enkrid said it while tending his sword.

"...Me? Worried?"

Jaxon leaked killing intent.

One wrong word here and he looked ready to actually stab someone.

"Heh, maybe our barbaric brother is off taking a nap somewhere."

Audin smoothed things over.

Worried? Not at all.

Enkrid thought of Rem.

'He'll come when it's time.'

That was just how he was.

He would mess around on his own and return on his own.

When they regrouped and heard the report, Kraiss's operation had been a huge success.

Sinar had cut down four commanders, and the Cultists had lost part of their supplies.

"Rem? Maybe he'll show up from somewhere."

That was what Kraiss said about the gray-haired barbarian's absence.

Even this was coming from a man who always talked about bad omens and unease.

Enkrid still thought he should just focus on what needed doing.

So he did.

He watched and assessed the situation they were about to step back into.

"The enemy?"

"As intended."

They were in Graham's tent again.

If both armies fought head-on from the start, who would win?

"Who else? Azpen."

The side hanging back and watching would sweep this whole region clean.

So they could not pull out the army sent to Green Pearl.

If anything, that side was asking for reinforcements.

That meant Azpen's garrison was positioned aggressively.

If things turned, they would strike.

So there was only one method.

Kraiss had to break apart the Black Blade Bandits and Cultist army with minimal losses.

'We don't need to kill all of them.'

Break their morale and make them retreat. Buying time was enough. They had to do it while preserving as much allied strength as possible.

That was the best move.

Hit both sides before they charged. Then force a full battle they could not avoid.

One battle only.

In that battle, make them retreat and collapse.

They had to break and pull back on their own. That was the condition.

"First, we break the blade the enemy prepared. Captain, that part has to be you."

Kraiss spent days thinking about what he would do if he were the Black Blade Bandits commander and the Cultist commander.

This was the answer he reached.

They were wary of the Madmen Company. Even if they did not know their exact strength, they would have prepared at least one hidden weapon.

If they met it unprepared, the damage would be severe.

'Make them bring it out in the main battle.'

After losing supplies and commanders, the two enemy forces would gather together.

And they would know this was not a fight that could be dragged out.

Then there was Enkrid's presence.

'More than enough to draw it out.'

"Second, Baronet Tarnin must die."

Cut off their pretext.

"Third, the instant the battle ends, we run to Green Pearl."

Meaning they had to finish this before Azpen moved.

"If this goes bad, we'll all bury our bones here."

Graham said.

Kraiss had no intention of dying here no matter what happened, but he nodded anyway.

Either way, many people would have to fight with death on the line.

Exactly as Kraiss intended, the Cultists who lost part of their supplies did not requisition nearby villages and instead joined the Black Blade Bandits main force.

The combined Black Blade Bandits and Cultist army began advancing toward the wide plain.

The Border Guard regular army left the wall and moved forward.

Holding the wall defensively was the same as telling Azpen, "Our back is open, hit us as hard as you want."

They had to go out.

A cutting wind blew, carrying dust between the two forces.

Under a dim sky and over dry, frozen ground, the armies faced each other.

"We have to win."

The Madmen Company gathered near the center.

Kraiss came out with them as well. If the battle fell apart, he would have to run, so he needed to stay close to Enkrid.

Enkrid guessed what he was thinking, but let it pass.

He thought it was a reasonable survival instinct.

'We have to win.'

Enkrid turned Kraiss's words over in his head. If they had to win, he did not think it had to be him in particular.

In the end, they only had to show a winning fight.

A few thoughts flashed through him, but he said nothing to Kraiss.

From here on, it was time for those who held swords.

Just as he was about to step forward.

Clatter-clatter! Clatter-clatter!

It was the enemy. Someone rode out on horseback and threw something near the center between both armies.

It landed just outside arrow range.

"What's that now?"

Vengeance frowned and muttered.

"Go fetch it."

Then he gave the order.

One of the scouts rode out and picked it up.

Soon it was in Enkrid's hand.

It was a familiar weapon.

Ragna looked at the recovered axe and said,

"That's the barbarian's keepsake."

"Mm. We'll make him a grave and bury him. We can bury that with him too."

Ragna and Jaxon each threw in a line.

At times like this, they were weirdly in sync.

A few soldiers recognized the axe, and some of them noticed Rem's absence.

Part of the force stirred.

"What? Is Captain Rem dead?"

"No, a few days ago they said he went to torch the Cultist bastards' camp..."

"He never came back."

"Maybe he's on another mission?"

"What mission is more urgent than this?"

Enkrid let the voices pass through one ear as he examined the axe.

Its edge was badly chipped, and deep ugly gouges covered it.

It clearly had been through a rough fight.

"Looks like he'll come back after fooling around a bit."

Enkrid said.

"We can just treat him as dead."

This time Dunbakel muttered.

Such sincere people.

Every one of them sounded deeply heartfelt.

Enkrid half-listened and watched the opposing side.

One side was packed with wolf magic beasts, and the other was full of human troops.

The allied forces of the Black Blade Bandits and the Cult.

Among them, Baronet Tarnin stepped out in chain armor that did not suit him and shouted.

"I will personally cut off the heads of these rebel whelps and offer them before the king! Cut down the traitors who dared plot rebellion!"

As he spoke, he raised his sword high.

He had a strong voice. It carried far, perhaps with a magical tool.

But no one moved.

"That idiot."

Kraiss cursed the pig who had no value beyond being a pretext.

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