WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 324: Separation Gap

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Because offense was the best defense, Enkrid took in every part of his opponent's body.

He did not read the gaze. He read the intent in the movement itself.

For an instant, it felt as if his head and eyeballs were on fire.

He gathered that much focus.

The vessels in his brain throbbed, and his pulse hammered through his whole body.

Focus Point activated at maximum intensity.

The opponent moved.

Tiny motions followed one after another.

A chain of motions, and Enkrid read the hidden meaning within it.

Like reading between the lines of a sentence to understand words that seem meaningless, he followed the context.

He was deciphering movements he once thought meant nothing.

How did a knight's sword move?

He still could not fully know.

The process was hard to grasp.

But had he not seen it again and again through countless deaths?

Had he not watched even while frozen stiff, unable to move?

Had Ragna and the others not shown it to him even as they died?

So he saw it.

A very brief opening, the tiny interval between drawing the sword and swinging it, the Separation Gap.

If he had not repeated this day, if he had not accumulated those repeated experiences, he would never have seen it.

Even with the blade of Sensory Art sharpened, even while staring through Focus Point, it was still a gap that should have remained invisible.

Enkrid aimed for that gap.

With experience sharpening his senses to the extreme, with his brain vessels feeling like they were burning, he dragged out every last drop of concentration.

It was just before the opponent drew his sword.

Enkrid felt time slow.

Even so, he calmly continued what he had to do.

Exactly as he had planned, in the order he had prepared.

He triggered Heart of Superhuman Strength first.

Thump-!

At the same moment his heart beat, blood whipped through his entire body like a storm.

His condition was not perfect, but this was the best he could do.

Enkrid calmly took a Gladius grip and turned his body at an angle.

By then, the knight's sword was fully drawn.

It came with an irritating ticking sound.

He steadied his breath.

In that slowed time, his thoughts flowed relatively fast.

Ideas flashed through him in an instant.

The first sword he created, Snake Sword.

A flowing sword.

The second sword he created, Lightning Thrust.

A technique carrying Momentary Will.

A sword built on the theme of speed.

And then the third.

'There was no preparatory motion.'

Enkrid watched the enemy knight's sword.

He had seen it countless times.

He had experienced it through death.

So he observed the opponent's swing and studied its principle.

Transfer of force, shift of center of gravity, the following linked motions.

He also took in Ragna's sword.

That sword called Lightning Strike.

He did not know its name then, but he carved the movement of that slash into his mind.

He added one more thing, mimicking elf techniques to read the opponent's intent.

He read, then read again.

With all the experience stacked through this repeated day, the spacing of that gap became vivid in his eyes.

'Right before the sword is drawn and swung.'

Too fast would fail. Too slow would fail.

Everyone's eyes gathered there.

Ragna's pupils widened wordlessly.

For a moment, it looked as if his commander's movement overlapped with the movement of the man who had suddenly barged in.

Sinar's gaze was the same.

'What is he doing?'

It happened before anyone could even process what was going on.

Dunbakel and Kraiss did not grasp the situation at all, and Esther was only just pushing herself up, fur bristling.

In that strange silence, the intruding man drew his sword, and Enkrid released a strange pressure.

Whether everyone was watching or not, Enkrid did what he had to do.

'I can't block it.'

That was Enkrid's conclusion.

Then what should he do?

If he could not block, what about striking first?

He had never tried it, but he saw the possibility.

He clearly remembered Ragna blocking that sword and ending up with blood on his hand.

Back then, even as he died, lightning flashed through his mind.

Sword, knight, power, defense, failure.

Everything came together and gave one answer.

'If I can't block it.'

Then he would strike first.

Enkrid unveiled his third sword.

A heavy sword technique based on Heavy Sword Style.

He layered Will onto Heavy Sword Style.

A Will he had grown familiar with from suffering it countless times, intimidation.

He could not wield perfect intimidation, but he had honed it until he could blend it into swordsmanship.

It was the sword art that had shocked Ragna when he saw it.

Of course, that day had vanished, so Ragna would be shocked again today.

Enkrid also mixed in Vallen Style Swordsmanship techniques.

Advancing normally began with a forward step, but Enkrid stepped sideways.

The knight's eyes briefly swept down to his footing.

'What?'

It should not have mattered, but it was enough to plant a question.

The knight's sword did not slow, but a gap opened in his thoughts.

Enkrid targeted that timing.

Thud.

He kicked off the ground.

He slid his left foot sideways and loaded force into his rear foot, his right.

Vallen-style mercenary sword, Cross-Step Walk.

A step meant to bother opponents with sharp eyes even more.

It was footwork to pry open the tiniest gap and raise his odds, even a little.

'Speed won't work.'

He already knew that.

So not speed, but pressure.

Enkrid's trick worked.

The knight did not flinch, but his sword did not come flying in either.

Enkrid stole the timing and moved forward.

Clang!

He drew his sword and held it upright.

With the blade held vertical, he applied pressure through Will, intimidation.

The knight moved his sword on reflex.

His senses, trained over many years, urged him.

This had to be blocked.

The third sword art, Crushing Sword.

Like a mountain pressing down on the earth, like a finger crushing an ant, it imposed suppression and pressure.

That pressure stripped the opponent of options.

In other words, it forced a block.

Compared to Lightning Thrust performed with Spark, it was slow.

But the force of that Will-based pressure was heavy enough to weigh on the opponent.

Knight Jamal did not lower his guard, but he had not expected this.

No, he could not have.

Who would expect this?

He tore through a tent to enter, then immediately had his timing stolen and took a heavy-sword strike?

The draw was slow.

After that, the speed rose comparatively.

A moderately fast blade traced a path the opponent had no choice but to block.

Even so, the knight did not go down easily.

'Not so fast.'

His sword vibrated on reflex and smashed against the descending blade.

Vmm, the sword rang in a span so brief that even 'an instant' felt too long.

It was a sound Enkrid could not hear.

He was already focused and already bringing his sword down with all his power.

He used even the margin he would normally reserve for what came after.

Boom!

An explosive crash burst out.

Crack!

The sound of bone twisting followed.

Enkrid felt weightless.

From an old Shortsword he could have snapped with bare hands, he felt a ridiculous rebound.

With that floating sensation, his body flew backward.

Pain followed with a heavy impact on his back.

It burned.

He had slammed his back into the brazier.

Enkrid rolled sideways.

"Uh!"

Startled, Kraiss let out a short cry.

Flames rose from the brazier that had toppled onto its side.

The explanation was long, but in reality, all of this happened in an instant.

The intruder tore through the tent, said something, and they were fighting right away.

Enkrid's head dropped to the side.

Only for a moment, but he blacked out.

Right after Enkrid collapsed.

Whoosh.

Ragna reacted.

It happened at the same moment Kraiss blurted out his shocked cry.

Boom!

A second explosive crash rang out.

It was the sound of the knight slashing upward at Ragna as Ragna unleashed Lightning Strike.

Ragna was thrown backward too.

He was launched into the air, but unlike Enkrid, he did not roll to one side.

He jumped back and drove his sword into the ground.

The blade bit into the earth and dragged a long line with a harsh screech.

"Hup."

Ragna took a short breath.

One clash was enough to tell.

That opponent was far above him.

Instead of charging, Sinar beat at Enkrid's burning back with a blanket.

After several hard strikes, the flames quickly died.

A sharp cracking sound came from Ragna's sword.

One clash had brought it to the brink of breaking.

Ragna threw that sword away and drew another.

It was the weapon Squire Bill had used.

Aya's weapon was better in quality, but this one had a length and weight Ragna was more used to.

Chring.

He drew it and leveled it.

He steadied his breath, rose from one knee, and set his stance.

Ragna took a fighting posture.

"Stop."

Enkrid spoke while still lying down.

The knight's eyes turned to him.

Ragna halted the foot that was about to charge.

Sinar quietly stepped back and placed a hand on Naidhl.

Anyone could tell at a glance.

'Monstrous.'

Could anyone really do this with a single Shortsword that looked ready to snap?

To do that, there had to be power in his body beyond simple muscle.

In other words, he was a knight.

"Doesn't seem like someone who should be here."

Sinar said.

The knight said nothing.

He quietly watched the fallen man, or rather, the man who had suddenly landed a strike on him.

Enkrid had not even recovered from the burn on his back before he was singed again by flame.

His armor was not magical and could not block heat.

Naturally, he suffered burns down his back.

Fortunately, it was not severe.

Sinar had put out the fire quickly.

His other injuries were worse than his back.

'Makes giants look tame.'

Both shoulders were dislocated.

And that was not all.

Crushing Sword had worked, but the counterattack was brutal.

'If I hadn't bled off the force at the end.'

It would not have ended with dislocations.

Both palms were torn open too, blood streaming down.

Of course they were.

Right before the clash, Knight Jamal had triggered his specialty, Blade Echo.

A technique that used high-speed vibration as a main weapon to add explosive force.

The knight remained silent, and Enkrid coughed.

He waited without speaking.

He had expected this to some degree.

He had dreamed of becoming a knight and longed for it, so it was only natural that he knew them well.

Enkrid had collected and heard many stories about knights, so he also knew the honor they spoke of.

That meant he understood what Jamal had said.

"Didn't you say one strike would be enough?"

So he spoke.

The knight glared at Enkrid in silence.

"What was it called?"

"Crushing Sword."

"Excellent."

Ting.

The knight withdrew his sword.

Ragna still gripped his sword with the tip leveled forward.

Enkrid stood up on leg strength alone. Because his dislocated shoulders would not let him raise his arms, he swung one roughly from the waist and rested it on Ragna's shoulder.

Pain followed, and it looked close to acrobatics, but it was still possible.

"Don't charge him today."

Enkrid said.

Ragna quietly stepped back.

He had the talent people called genius.

He knew it too.

The opponent was a knight.

To put it plainly, if he charged now, he would die every time, one hundred out of one hundred.

"Name?"

Enkrid asked.

"Jamal."

The other man answered readily.

"Are you with the Azpen Grand Duke's Knight Order?"

"I am."

He could not hide it.

Unless he broke his word right now and cut everyone down, there was no way around it.

If he could not do that, he could not hesitate to state his affiliation.

A knight's duty was to stand proud anywhere.

He had offered the minimum courtesy, and the other side had accepted it.

Now he had to uphold the honor and trust he still had.

That was what a knight was.

"It was an honor."

Enkrid said.

Whatever this situation looked like, he meant it.

Jamal's eyes flickered.

What was this man?

And what was this situation?

Yet absurdly, a laugh escaped him.

"An honor?"

He asked back, laughter in his voice before he knew it.

"It's not often you get to take a knight's sword."

"You swung first."

"I thought I'd get hit if I waited."

Was he sharp? Was his judgment good?

Or was he just lucky?

Had he stepped back and happened to catch a rat underfoot?

Had the goddess of fortune truly blessed him?

Jamal kept laughing in disbelief.

There had been no tension from the start.

Now he had even withdrawn his killing intent.

Once the intent to kill vanished, the man standing there looked far too ordinary for a knight.

"I believed you because you spoke of honor."

"You'll become someone great."

Jamal was a knight.

Naturally, he could recognize another person's talent.

He could see current skill and future growth alike.

For now, the blond man with red eyes stood out first.

The one who seized attention at a glance was Ragna.

But.

Sometimes, apart from talent, there were people with something no words could describe.

The man before him was one of them.

"We'll meet again."

Jamal said.

Now that things had turned out this way, he actually felt at ease.

He had made a promise on his honor, and he had to keep it.

Even Abnaier would have no choice.

Had he not agreed to one swing himself?

"An honor indeed."

Standing straight, Enkrid felt his thigh and calf muscles throbbing too.

Somehow, every time he crossed the Boatman's walls of Anguish, Ignorance, and Despair, his body came out less intact.

"Offense is the best defense. That was good."

As if finished speaking, Jamal turned away.

"...We're just letting him go?"

Dunbakel asked with an uneasy face.

"Then what, you want to rush him?
Unless you're insane enough to want all of us dead, we let him go.
At this point, we should probably guide him out."

Kraiss picked up the line.

He shuddered as he spoke.

He understood how terrifying the opponent's strength was.

He had read that much from the situation.

"Ah, Kraiss, we really can't afford a disturbance, so guide him out."

When Enkrid said it, Kraiss's eyes widened.

"What did you just say?"

"A knight's sword is safer than a street thug's dagger."

"You do know that guy is the enemy, right?"

Kraiss lowered his voice as he spoke.

He did it in case the knight heard, but hearing it would not change anything.

Yes, the Azpen Grand Duke's Knight Order was the enemy.

He knew that.

But today, they had spoken of honor.

"Of course.
We still keep what we have to keep."

They had to let him leave in peace.

Kraiss was not stupid.

If sentries found that man and caused a commotion, it would become a bigger problem.

So who should go, Dunbakel, or Ragna?

Sinar?

Overpowering him by force was already out of the question, so the best choice was someone with a working brain to see him off.

Strength did not matter at all.

The opponent was a knight.

Kraiss knew that too.

Big Eyes, wearing a miserable expression, headed outside.

"Damn it."

He had complaints, of course, so he muttered anyway.

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