WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 320: Second Praise.

= = =

Morning broke on the same day again.

Enkrid lived through that same day again.

The ominous chain, beyond even his Sense of Evasion, still tightened around him.

His limbs locked up, and he could not move.

And as always, he had to watch people die.

As evening drew near, Enkrid said what had to be said.

It was the bare minimum of preparation.

"Ragna, keep your sword in hand and rest."

He warned them in advance, but the sword was not the problem.

They were exhausted.

They were injured.

They were not in top condition.

Knowing that did not mean he could stop what was coming.

That was why it was a calamity.

It was called a calamity for a reason.

The knight killed all his comrades again.

The third today passed, then the fourth.

It repeated.

Ominousness, tightening chains, his comrades' deaths, his own death, pain, and sometimes the Boatman on the river.

"Despair."

The Boatman appeared again and planted that word in his head.

Enkrid did not answer.

"Despair."

Twelve todays passed.

He repeated the same day over and over.

Bound by that ominous chain, frozen in place, Enkrid watched his comrades die.

He never looked away.

He could not.

Kraiss, terrible at fighting, still stepped in front of him.

That man talked about running every day, so why did he show his back to protect him at this moment?

It was a curse.

That was why it never dulled.

Physical pain and inner pain were the same.

He had to endure the same pain every time.

He had to watch everything every time.

Enkrid had never intended to look away in the first place, but pain was still pain.

"This is despair."

The Boatman passed by in that light tone.

It was the twenty-second today.

Twitch.

Right after Sinar's chest split open, Enkrid's finger moved.

This repetition was slightly different from the previous twenty-one todays.

"Fiancee."

She did not die.

In the first today, he thought she had died, but her skill was far from ordinary.

With Naidhl, she shifted the sword's path and minimized the wound.

It blended two sword styles, a flowing sword and a receiving sword.

And Ragna? Instead of matching the opponent's slash with speed,

he set his blade and endured with force.

They were all people he could learn from.

Twitch.

Ragna, Kraiss, Dunbakel, Esther.

After watching all of them die, Enkrid finally regained freedom in his hand.

"Now you move."

Then came that short line.

"Hm?"

Even then, the blade in the brown-haired man's hand still pierced his heart.

Enkrid died again.

Splash.

The black river and the Boatman.

As if he had nothing better to do, he kept showing up.

"Despair."

The Boatman, delivering his message, turned his unfocused gaze toward Enkrid.

Enkrid looked back at him indifferently.

He said despair every time, yet never showed even a hint of fatigue or boredom.

As Enkrid watched, his body slowly began to blur.

It was time to return to reality.

He had to live through today again, the day where he watched his comrades die.

It was time to head back to the today where death repeated.

As his body and face blurred like smoke,

the Boatman looked at Enkrid.

The Boatman did not speak through expressions.

Still, sometimes he showed a sliver of what he felt.

He did so now.

As time in the dream ran out and Enkrid blurred away, the Boatman revealed part of his feeling.

He put it into words.

"Are you smiling?"

* * *

The river vanished.

Enkrid woke from the dream.

Which meant another repeating today had begun.

It was the thirty-second.

"Rough dream."

Enkrid muttered as soon as he got up.

This was the first thing he always did.

He treated the previous today as a dream.

More accurately, he used it as his first step forward.

A today where he could do nothing.

That was very, no, deeply unpleasant.

It felt like bugs crawling all over his body.

"What kind of dream was it?"

Kraiss asked from the side, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"A dream where you die."

"That's bad luck."

Kraiss answered sincerely to Enkrid's honest reply.

"I dreamed of you dying too, Ragna.

Keep your sword in hand."

"That really is bad luck to say."

Ragna answered with equal sincerity, and it made for a strangely warm morning.

Ragna was not superstitious, but hearing that out of nowhere could still stick in your mind.

And it was Enkrid saying it.

"Did that barbarian's nonsense rub off on you?"

Ragna let out something like a complaint, which was rare for him.

His tone was flat, but the content was awful.

Enkrid gave the expected response.

"An insult?

I accept your duel challenge."

Who kept saying he was like Rem?

He tossed it back as a joke, and Ragna gave no reply.

Enkrid moved more energetically than on any previous today.

Despair was not a word that reached him easily.

Yes, it was an extreme situation.

Yes, the opponent was absurdly monstrous.

But the answer was clear.

'Once.'

If he endured the first strike, the man would leave.

So this was despair?

No.

Even if there had been a way to avoid it, he would not have taken it.

The opponent was a knight.

Even if that knight had come as a grim reaper, Enkrid still felt pure joy that his dream had come to him.

As much pain as there was, there was also exhilaration.

Bury his comrades' deaths as dreams and move forward. That was where Enkrid started.

In other words, no one would die.

So only one clear answer remained.

'I just need to receive it.'

And if he could not?

Then he would do it until he could.

If he had to, he would do anything.

Then that was enough.

He had to watch his comrades die every time?

And that was despair?

'Flimsy.'

How many todays had he already crossed?

There were many ways to twist a repeating today.

Did a repeating today always have to produce the same events?

He already knew it did not.

Now he could do things he had not even considered before, because back then his body would not move.

Enkrid first gathered his gear from the corner of the barracks.

Should he wrap himself in bandage armor too?

No, that would be meaningless.

He had seen the knight's sword.

Armor could not stop it.

What Sinar wore was no ordinary armor either, and it still got split apart.

Something was imbued in that strike.

He thought he knew what it was.

'Will.'

A knight was one who used Will.

Enkrid recognized that clearly.

Then what should he do?

Try deflecting first?

Would Snake Sword work?

He had already forgotten that his body was in terrible condition.

A similar today passed.

"Good work, everyone."

Enkrid always said similar things.

Even in repetition, some things should not be allowed to dull.

Enkrid did not forget that.

After a few more trivial exchanges,

"He's got that charm, that charm."

Kraiss finished speaking, then rip, the tent tore open and the brown-haired man stepped in.

It was always the same opening.

"My apologies."

The man spoke, and Enkrid began preparing.

"If you endure one strike, I will leave.

That would at least respect my honor."

He looked like a man doing something he disliked.

Even so, they had never blocked that one strike.

While he was still talking, Enkrid moved.

Truthfully, Enkrid was not listening.

He had heard it too many times.

Some things dulled through repetition, and some did not.

The words that stayed in memory had only become tiresome.

Honor or not, his focus burned.

The fetter of ominousness wrapped around him and tightened, but he had already begun overcoming it once.

He ordered every muscle from his fingertips onward.

Move.

Enkrid's foot stepped forward naturally.

His body moved by his will.

Ominousness still coiled around his neck and tightened, but it did not matter.

He could ignore it.

At least he could move.

The man first noticed the one who stepped forward without listening.

His gaze turned to Enkrid.

Enkrid spoke.

"Me first."

"Fiancee."

Sinar tried to stop him, but she was already too late.

"I'm the target, right?

Or not?"

As he spoke, he finished the step.

He was right.

From all those todays, he had already learned everything worth learning.

To get past today, he had to identify what he needed from this today and face it head-on.

'His target is me.'

And if someone stepped up boldly, he was the type who would never ignore it.

Enkrid said what he had learned by replaying the situation and faced him.

The man, the knight, raised his sword.

Ting, the chipped shortsword came free, the grim reaper's weapon.

The grim reaper of dreams lifted his weapon.

"How bold.

You."

He swung.

Thud.

Enkrid tried to block, but the opponent's sword was faster.

Faster than Lykanos?

Like Jaxon's Pierce Without Killing Strike?

He had seen it countless times, but this was his first attempt to block it.

Enkrid felt the speed difference.

The opponent started from his feet and released the blade without any readable transfer of force.

It was a sword whose timing could not be read.

'I was too slow.'

That was Enkrid's conclusion.

He was slow and missed it, so his heart splitting open was only natural.

Death approached.

Even so, Enkrid grinned.

Had he not achieved the first thing he wanted?

The grim reaper saw it too.

'He's insane.'

He saw through Enkrid in an instant.

The opponent was not normal.

Of course, Enkrid did not care.

He was simply satisfied that his trick had worked.

If he did not want to watch Sinar, Ragna, Kraiss, Dunbakel, and Esther die, then he only had to step forward first.

His eyes closed.

Death approached.

Splash, the black river.

It was not even time to open the mental world, yet the Boatman forced his way in for a moment anyway.

As he passed, he left high praise.

"Crazy bastard."

That kind of praise had already come twice.

Enkrid barely managed a reply.

"Thanks."

There was no time for more.

Was it his imagination that the ferry, receding over the water, looked like it was shaking hard?

No way to know.

Anyway.

'My body moves.'

Then all that remained now was to receive it.

"Hoo, good."

"What's good about it?"

Kraiss asked when Enkrid spoke right after waking.

"Don't worry about it."

Enkrid thought.

Could he restore his body right now?

No.

Still thinking, he picked up Ragna's sword and set it beside his bed.

"...What is this?

You asking to spar?"

"Keep it."

Action was easier than explaining.

Either way, if he wanted to raise even a little heat in his body, it was important not to stop moving.

By the brazier, he kept stretching his muscles and performing movement after movement to stimulate recovery.

Even then, he did not stop thinking.

'How do I block it?'

It still felt hopeless.

Just because his body moved now did not mean he could block it right away.

Still, was it not only one slash?

'No.'

It was not only one slash.

It was a knight's sword.

'This really is absurd.'

Enkrid was not a fool.

He knew what he had done on the battlefield.

His sword was not something ordinary soldiers could stop by numbers.

He had cut down skilled mercenaries, and men from the Hurrier family too.

Among them were mages and sorcerers.

Most recently, he had even been trapped in enemy ranks.

He got out by relying on his senses, but it was not easy.

To someone who did not know today repeated, it would look mystical, beyond merely impressive.

With one sword, no, three swords to be exact, but still only swords in hand, he had made it look like he crossed that hell.

"You were a mage?"

Kraiss suddenly asked, and it was understandable.

Even Esther looked at him as if maybe.

Of course he was not.

He did not know spells.

He replayed the knight's sword in his mind again.

Now he felt like an ordinary soldier.

His thoughts continued.

If Jaxon were here, would he have noticed?

No, if Jaxon were here, would he have been beaten by the knight so easily?

Would Jaxon have done something, somehow?

What if Ragna had not been injured?

They were stray thoughts.

So this was despair?

Was this the residue of emotion the Boatman had shoved into his head?

Enkrid did not force any of it away.

He let it sit naturally.

It did not matter.

What was despair?

Having nothing to look toward, cutting off hope, collapsing.

Collapsing while pitying yourself.

None of that had anything to do with Enkrid.

He would fail to receive the knight's strike and be trapped in today?

He would rather welcome that.

Rather than scraping through each day doing nothing, with no turning point at all, watching the dream he held fade, tear, and wear down.

"Let today be fierce too."

Then he would struggle, so what if death approached?

It did not matter.

Whatever happened, he was not living just to die.

More than anything, the todays that had passed, the things the Boatman called Anguish and Ignorance, and the countless todays before that

had cracked one of Enkrid's shells.

Just like when he first faced this today, his mind stood straight and steady.

It was a small realization.

It was also a great realization.

'No rule says I cannot use today.'

He had used it against lycanthropes and mages, and he had used today fully when breaking through spell traps too.

This was an expansion of the concept.

Struggle, endure the curse of repetition, and use it.

It was the moment he recognized with his mind what he had been doing with his body all along.

Enkrid's eyes widened.

He thought of what he had to do.

"Ragna."

"...What is it?"

Strength naturally entered his voice.

Ragna reacted to Enkrid's change in attitude.

Why was he suddenly like this?

"Assuming your body is in perfect condition."

Enkrid's eyes shone.

They were strangely excited, almost thrilled.

As Enkrid kept going in that state, Ragna cut him off.

"I'm fine right now too.

More than you are, captain."

In some ways, bluff was the strongest weapon.

Ragna's bluff shone as brightly as Enkrid's eyes.

Enkrid took it naturally.

"My condition is nine out of ten."

In truth, it was five.

"I am fully recovered."

"Looks like I just fully recovered too."

Sinar, listening to the two of them, spoke in a low voice.

"What are those two doing?"

"They're competing to see who's the bigger idiot."

Kraiss summed it up.

"I'm not hurt."

Dunbakel chimed in.

She was hurt too.

Of course, no one reacted to her words.

Enkrid and Ragna also ignored everything around them.

More precisely, once Enkrid ignored it, Ragna naturally followed.

This was the main point.

"Can you receive the knight's sword?"

That question, that attitude, the weight in his words and eyes, the thing burning beyond bluff.

All of it was a stimulus.

Ragna received the question and sank into his own world for a moment.

This fight had become a turning point.

Ragna could see a path.

He could see very clearly where his talent was leading.

But seeing a path and walking it were different.

He had not experienced it yet, so he could not know for certain.

Still, had his brilliant talent not already shown him the path?

A path shown again by talent awakened through a turning point.

Ragna was half certain.

This was the path to becoming a knight.

So.

"I can block it."

Even without the bluff, that was true.

If he first opened the way with the cut imbued with Will, the thing he had gained this time, he could block even a knight's sword.

It was a faint certainty.

It was confidence too.

At least he would not be crushed helplessly by one strike.

Thinking things through was not sitting alone clutching your head and acting like an idiot.

And just as Enkrid had changed, he had also quietly felt Ragna changing.

In particular, each time the knight appeared in this repeating today, Ragna's response shifted a little.

What did that mean?

Did it not mean he was seeing something?

Doubt and questions.

Enkrid saw an easy path.

He sought the answer from Ragna.

"How?"

Then tell me the method.

Ragna felt almost drugged.

Enkrid's voice and eyes did that to him.

So he opened his mouth without resistance.

He imagined and traced the knight's sword.

In pure talent, he was a man who could be called among the best on the continent.

He did not hesitate.

His mouth opened at once.

= = =

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