WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 306: Variable

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Whether it was good luck or bad luck, the sky was too clear. Even the wind was mild.

For winter, it had been unusually warm day after warm day.

Warm enough that the old snow was quietly melting away.

Green Pearl was never the kind of place where snow piled up much in the first place. The upper ridges of the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range stayed white year-round, but that was a different matter.

In other words, it was a damn good day to fight. Even the sky felt like it was shoving their backs and telling them to battle.

"The enemy is right in front of us."

That came from a messenger.

Even then, Enkrid was still weaving through the rank-and-file soldiers.

"Meet them at the palisade! Everyone out!"

At the commander's shout, Enkrid moved too.

"Hey, shouldn't you be going back to your position?"

Helma turned and spoke to Enkrid as he came up beside her. She was just stepping out, buckler and short spear in hand.

Enkrid matched her pace and answered vaguely.

"It's fine."

Helma blinked.

Fine? What was supposed to be fine?

Still, can this guy actually fight?

Usually pretty boys like him are useless in a brawl, aren't they?

Helma worried about Enkrid, even though she'd only known him for two days.

"If your superior sees this, you're getting your nose broken."

Enkrid gave another vague answer.

"I got permission."

He had just asked himself and gotten an answer. That counted as permission. Besides, this had already been agreed on.

What kind of variable would he create on this battlefield?

There was only one thing Enkrid could do.

"Hey, if you're gonna do that, then get all the way to the front."

A soldier said it in a flat tone.

He'd been grumbling for a while now.

There was some odd hostility in it, but Enkrid ignored it.

They were all about to fight shoulder to shoulder in a bloodbath, so this much whining was honestly cute.

Compared to Rem, it was nothing more than a child's tantrum.

"Sure."

He answered and kept walking. He was already heading forward anyway.

Helma seemed to belong to the vanguard unit to begin with, and shifted her steps that way too.

"Mind your own business."

Helma snapped back at the soldier behind them.

The other soldier said nothing else.

He hadn't expected Enkrid to really go.

By now, Enkrid had gotten a rough read on the soldiers' level.

Rem had graded them in his usual dumb way, but even by Naurillia's ranking standards, Enkrid could spot a few high-tier soldiers.

Helma was at least mid-tier. Their overall strength was better than expected.

Most were closer to low-tier, and their forces were only infantry and archers, but their discipline was solid.

They kept horses, but had no cavalry, and wagons were prepared by the supply route in the rear.

Naturally, those wagons were loaded with supplies and such.

'If things go south, they're perfectly set up to run.'

Whether they became war criminals or fugitives, they weren't planning to die pointless dog deaths here.

Neither I nor my men will be left that way.

The formation and preparations felt like Garrett's voice was still in them.

Enkrid liked that too.

As he walked, he loosely rolled his arms.

The pain was faint. His right arm had recovered well enough, and his left shin was fine now.

The wounds all over him were now just traces. Jaxon had looked him over and said his face wouldn't scar.

His shins, forearms, and body would still be left with various scars, though.

After hearing that, Kraiss had started talking nonsense again.

"A scar on your face wouldn't be the worst thing, but no scar is still better."

He was dead set on dragging Enkrid to a salon.

Ridiculous guy.

Enkrid moved around, feeling the soft armor wrapped over his shoulders, chest, and thighs.

Even though it was relatively thin leather armor, it was stiff. And with a thin gambeson under it, it felt cramped too.

If he took it off, he'd be colder, and his defense would be cut in half.

A manageable level of discomfort would soon pay off in protection.

"You're carrying three swords? Anyway, if you fight up front, you'll die."

Helma said it with concern. She was a kind person.

Enkrid was about to answer when Jaxon came up from the side. No, he practically popped up.

Enkrid had sensed him already with his sharpened senses, but Helma hadn't.

"I brought him."

Helma jumped. It looked like a man had suddenly sprung up from the ground.

He wore a thin cap instead of a helmet, and a blond man, constantly adjusting his leather helmet, joined them at his side.

"You came?"

"Yes."

"What about Dunbakel?"

"Big Eyes pulled her out separately with Sinar. Said we should keep that card hidden."

"Oh, yeah?"

It was a trivial exchange. Helma couldn't really follow it.

Still, she realized the man in front of her wasn't ordinary.

No, she'd known that already. It was just hitting her again. He had stood out from the beginning.

He moved as if the tension spreading through camp meant nothing.

Enkrid paid no attention to Helma's gaze.

He focused on what he had to do.

What he needed was a variable.

Something the enemy wouldn't expect.

Enkrid decided that would begin with the very first strike of the battle.

Kraiss agreed.

It had worked well so far.

An unexpected opening blow let him see how the enemy reacted. Then he could confirm part of the cards they were hiding.

He didn't need to see everything. Even part of it was enough. From that, he could infer what came next.

That would make this completely different from fighting blind.

'Please, just please.'

Kraiss was trying to suppress his worst fears.

Enkrid stayed calm.

'There are a lot of them.'

Even with the enemy right in front of them, he wasn't very tense.

So he didn't feel immediate danger.

Whatever the enemy had prepared, he felt he could handle it.

His danger-sense stayed quiet, and his body felt better than expected.

His right arm was more than half recovered too.

'Nice.'

Really not bad.

"Waaaaaaah!"

Battle cries from both sides shook the air. Azpen still maintained a slow advance.

The moment the approaching enemy entered arrow range, Enkrid's side fired first.

Piviviviv!

Arrows sliced through the air and marked the start of battle.

Azpen fired too. Black rain began falling overhead.

It was the smoothest opening to a fight they'd had in a long time.

"Hold!"

"Shields up! Don't lower them!"

"Agh!"

"You idiot bastard!"

High-arching arrows rose like black dots, then poured down. One struck an unlucky soldier in the shoulder.

A comrade dragged him back. Another soldier raised a shield over them.

Their coordination was good. Their training showed.

Still, they were lacking.

Compared to the Border Guard regulars brought as reinforcements, they were weak. The gap was like hard stone versus packed mud.

'Train them harder.'

He should put together training schedules for whoever survived today.

A pointless thought, maybe, but not a bad one. Promising yourself a future, a later, a next time, always helped.

That kind of thought was preparation too.

It steadied the mind.

Preparation wasn't only tightening your sword belt and resetting your grip.

Enkrid watched incoming arrows and dodged as needed.

He could dodge daggers thrown in his face. This was nothing.

He hadn't brought a shield. Full equipment mattered, but

'For now, just three swords.'

This felt better.

He glanced aside. Ragna widened the distance with a light hop, dodging arrows without even looking, and Jaxon was already gone.

'He'll handle himself.'

Any reason to worry about Jaxon? Probably not.

Enkrid focused on his own role.

"Hoo."

He steadied his breathing. No matter the battlefield, no matter the opponent, no matter whether his condition was good or bad.

Danger existed, and threats couldn't be ignored.

As always, Enkrid brought out his best.

He started with one sword held in both hands.

Shing.

A blue-tinted steel blade slid from its sheath. He raised it into the brilliant winter sunlight.

The edge was chipped in a few places, but it was still sturdy.

He maintained it, and still this happened. He had used it too hard.

Only a good sword could endure this much. A normal steel sword would have broken long ago.

A good sword was always right.

'One more time.'

Enkrid spoke to his sword. He'd lay it to rest properly when the time came, but not yet.

The roars of both charging armies slowly closed the distance.

Enkrid moved with them. He strode straight ahead without hesitation. Half a step ahead of his allies, then beyond their line, then farther, and before long the gap widened from one step to two.

Naturally, he looked like he was charging out alone.

"Hey, where are you going!"

Someone shouted from behind. It sounded like that grumbling soldier.

"You crazy bastard! Hey!"

Enkrid ignored him. It was time to draw every eye.

"Shake them with the first strike, please."

Kraiss had asked for that, but Enkrid's blood had already started to boil first.

What did you prepare?

A squire knight? A demon sword? Magic? Sorcery? Did you bring a full knight?

If not, how do you plan to stop me?

That clutter of thoughts flashed through his head once, and Enkrid stepped over the arrow-studded frozen ground to meet the enemy.

He was first because he was the fastest.

"You crazy bastard!"

A tense enemy soldier thrust out his spear.

Enkrid changed the rhythm of his sprint.

In an instant he lowered his center and accelerated. Before the enemy's eyes could track that change, Enkrid's foot had already swept the man's shin.

He kicked straight through while running.

Thud, crack!

Bone snapped in a single hit, and the enemy soldier's body popped into the air before crashing down.

"Agh!"

Leaving the scream behind, Enkrid smashed the head of the soldier beside him with his elbow. He used his foot and elbow almost simultaneously.

"Ghk!"

A death rattle rang out. Thud, crunch. The struck soldier's neck cracked, and blood spilled through the gaps in his helmet. One blow had crushed his skull.

Only then did Enkrid swing his sword. Pivoting on his left foot, he cut once from his right hip to high left.

The heavy blade drove diagonally with the wind. Heavy Sword Style rotational slash.

Enkrid added a variation.

Using the force of that swing, he switched his pivot from left foot to right. As he switched, he dropped the blade from high left and then swung from low left to high right.

His feet crossed and traded places, and in that motion the blade traced an infinity symbol.

Everything caught in that edge snapped and shattered. Things were severed, split, and flung away.

"Gah!"

"Aaagh!"

Those screaming were the lucky ones who didn't die in one hit.

Anyone whose neck or head got caught in the blade's path ended right there.

Nine enemy soldiers died from two clean sword strokes.

Because he kept switching footing left and right as he moved, his blade covered a wider arc.

"Kill him!"

A nearby commander shouted, eyes bloodshot.

Even after seeing all this, he didn't retreat. He clenched his teeth.

'Their discipline is better than ours.'

Their training was better, their troop quality was better, and their commanders were better too. Enkrid was focused on the fight, so he didn't catch everything.

But his instincts spoke. He needed to cut down the commander who had just shouted.

He felt it in his skin first. That would raise their odds.

As he moved again, spearheads thrust in from every direction.

Long spears stabbed and stabbed again.

Enkrid knocked away what needed knocking away and dodged what needed dodging.

He cut his way through a forest of spearpoints. Then he closed to the commander's range and brought down one overhead slash.

With a snapping cut, the head didn't split. It burst with a dull crack.

That was the shape of brute strength.

The blade smashed through the helmet and passed on, and shattered skull punched through scalp. Blood and brain matter spilling out was inevitable.

"Hoo."

He swung his sword wide in warning, and enemy soldiers flinched.

Enkrid took one breath and activated the Heart of Superhuman Strength. That power wasn't endless, but right now was the time to stab, smash, cut, and break.

"What the hell is this!"

An enemy soldier shouted. Enkrid's blade didn't stop. He was a reaper, collecting lives as he carved through enemy ranks.

"Crazy!"

Another enemy shouted. Meaningless. There wasn't the slightest hesitation in Enkrid's blade.

He cut down dozens by himself, again and again, so the enemy line breaking apart was inevitable.

"Are you just going to watch!"

An enemy commander roared, and someone stepped forward.

If they left this alone, their formation and ranks would collapse completely.

A warrior from Azpen's side, who had been steadying his breath, stepped out.

He walked toward Enkrid, then stopped.

The man sized up his opponent.

'Heavy Sword Style.'

A style that prioritized weight and ignored smaller attacks.

Assessment done. Time to fight.

The man moved forward too.

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