WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 325: Thanks.

= = =

Only after Kraiss left did Enkrid sink to the floor.

His legs had no strength left. He could not stay on his feet.

He hit the ground butt first.

A heavy jolt shot up through his hips.

‘That felt harder than being trapped by a thousand soldiers.’

A full day of thrashing against a crowd while overloading his body had been worse.

Of course it had.

This time, he had swung his sword only once.

Even so, the fatigue packed into that brief instant was brutal.

His head swam, and his mouth was dry.

A deep lassitude spread through him.

It felt like all strength had drained from his muscles.

And that was separate from the pain in his dislocated shoulder.

He compared it to the other version of today.

For the time spent, the gap was absurd.

The Boatman had not sung about despair for nothing.

Sometimes he talked so much Enkrid wondered if he might actually compose poems and sing them.

Still, he had endured it.

No, more accurately, he had taken control of the situation and forced it through.

He had flipped the very idea of "receiving" an attack.

By striking first, he got past that "one time."

In the end, it was no different from receiving the knight’s sword.

After all, his dislocated shoulder and trembling body were still alive, proof that he had won.

‘Luck.’

Luck had played a part, but calculation and effort had mattered more.

Enkrid tried to lie back, but someone stopped him.

“You need to watch out for the brazier.”

It was Sinar’s hand.

If he lay down, the burn on his back would only worsen.

Her palm gently supported the back of his head.

Not all of it had burned, but singed hair crumbled and fell to the floor like graphite dust.

“This is something else.”

Sinar spoke while looking at where the knight had vanished.

“Yes, it really is.”

Enkrid replied, looking in the same direction.

“Monstrous.”

Ragna muttered to himself.

Hearing that from Ragna made the knight’s strength feel all the more unreal, all the more inhuman.

Even Ragna had called it monstrous.

After receiving the knight’s sword, Ragna confirmed his path again.

The opening had appeared, and the path he had seen became clearer.

So what he needed to do was clear too.

Keep this drive alive.

Thankfully, he did not need to force it.

“Next time.”

Enkrid was already muttering it.

He had faced a knight’s sword, and he was already talking about next time and glory.

Ragna felt a sharp urge not to fall behind him.

That felt oddly fun.

So he laughed.

“You got hit once. What’s so funny?”

The captain tossed out a pointless remark.

“Then why are you smiling, Captain?”

Even Enkrid, saying that, wore a grin.

As if he felt no pain, with his back scorched and his body collapsed, he still smiled.

“If I want to laugh, I laugh.
Hahaha!”

Dunbakel chimed in from the side.

No one answered her.

* * *

Knight Jamal left under Kraiss’s guidance.

No one blocked him.

“Captain Enkrid’s orders.
Come out.
Don’t block him.
Clear the way, clear it.”

Kraiss went ahead and opened a path.

Inside the camp, the name Enkrid was like a famous blade that cut through anything.

Who would dare block this?

Even Battalion Commander Garrett could do nothing, so it was almost the same as wielding power built on the soldiers’ respect.

Even so, a few soldiers flashed savage looks now and then.

The knight’s calm attitude must have gotten under their skin.

There were hot-blooded soldiers everywhere.

“Move.”

Kraiss deliberately glared.

Knight Jamal paid no attention to the people around him.

Why should he? They were only soldiers he could cut down if they rushed him.

It would not be honorable to strike first, but if someone charged him, he could stab and cut without hesitation.

Thankfully, no one did, so Jamal asked with plain curiosity.

“Does he always do insane things like that?”

He did not need to specify who.

Kraiss understood immediately.

No matter how Jamal thought about it, that bastard Enkrid had recognized him and attacked.

Since he asked about his affiliation, he probably had not known exactly who Jamal was, but he must have roughly gauged his level.

That was why he had suddenly launched a strike carrying Will.

A crushing downward sword mixed with pressure, one he had no choice but to receive.

It felt like the first time in a very long while he had been forced to swing his sword.

It had been a fresh experience.

Abnaier would be dumbfounded to hear it, but some things could not be helped.

That line of thought led to this question.

Was that man always that crazy?

‘If it had gone even slightly wrong.’

That bastard Enkrid would have died.

He had brought that sword down with his life as collateral.

Separate from talk of honor, it was a blade that forced itself through a tiny gap.

And the path he forced through was like a corridor packed with blades.

If Jamal’s judgment had been even a little slower.

If his angle had shifted even a little.

‘He would have died.’

Yet had there been any hesitation in the other man’s sword?

He brought it down with his life on the line, so how could there be no lingering fear?

He had called it the Crushing Sword.

For exactly one instant, Enkrid’s sword had lived up to that name.

It crushed down.

It forced him to react.

After seeing that, how could Jamal view him as normal?

A knight was still human, with fear and instinct.

That bastard Enkrid looked like someone outside the ordinary track of people.

A knight’s eye really was different.

From a single clash of swords, he had seen everything he needed to see.

Kraiss chose his words carefully and answered.

“You have good eyes.
Yes, he is crazy.”

Kraiss inwardly admired what a knight was.

That intuition was astonishing.

He had seen the captain’s madness at a glance.

“I see.”

The knight left.

Jamal had nothing more to ask.

It was grim news, but he had delivered his message, and it was time to return to his post.

Would this become the trigger for Naurillia to decide on a full-scale war?

A knight’s blade had been used, so the repercussions would be large.

* * *

Garrett ran into the wrecked tent late.

He came only after safety was secured. His survival instinct was nearly on Kraiss’s level.

“What in the world happened?”

Even so, he looked shocked.

Enkrid explained everything, and Garrett did not spread the story.

There was no good in telling people that a knight had come and gone.

The soldiers had only just begun to think they had won and it was over. Should he tell them a knight might come and cut their throats next?

Even if he told them the knight would not return, accepting that emotionally was another matter.

Though everyone here already looked as if they had cast worry aside.

Garrett also had another reason he could not speak.

“I need to report to the center first.”

That was Garrett’s decision.

Kraiss had just returned from seeing off the knight, and he narrowed his eyes at that.

“We could sit on this and let it pass, couldn’t we?”

“That is not for us to decide.”

Kraiss frowned.

Politically, this stank.

Would this set off something else?

Of course it would.

‘Political leverage.’

Azpen had broken the oath first.

It was not a non-aggression treaty, but they had still been told not to cross the line for now.

They ignored that, crossed the border, and lost.

Then they even sent a knight?

There was no way this could be brushed aside.

Naurillia would likely gain a huge political advantage from this.

They would probably set a condition of no immediate war in exchange for covering up the knight’s intervention.

To Kraiss, it was obvious.

Naturally, it was not something he could control much, but it was not irrelevant to him either.

A stink was a stink, and while this was going on, should they not skim what they could skim?

‘From the Border Guard’s position.’

This could be a huge gain.

If he got his hand in it, he would gain too.

His mind turned on its own toward ways to earn Krona.

“Hoo, anyway, get treatment first.”

After looking things over, Garrett lightly clapped his hands as he spoke.

The sharp clap drew everyone’s eyes. He stepped outside, barked orders, and after the commotion, a group of soldiers came in and cleaned up the ruined tent.

Two medics reset Enkrid’s dislocated shoulder.

Even though the pain of setting bone was no joke, Enkrid remained calm.

When a hard crack sounded as the bones locked back into place, Dunbakel frowned without meaning to.

It was a grating sound even to hear.

“...Doesn’t it hurt?”

One medic asked without thinking.

The medic had heard of a rare illness where people could not feel pain from birth.

The medic wondered if Enkrid had that.

“No, it hurts.”

“But you didn’t even groan once.”

“Groaning won’t make it hurt less.”

Not wrong, but people were not usually like that.

If it hurt, a sound usually slipped out on its own.

“You are amazing in every way.
Captain.”

Why was this guy calling him captain?

Enkrid had no energy to answer.

He did not groan or scream, but he burned with fever for two days.

In the meantime, Azpen withdrew and went back.

Enkrid heard that news half asleep.

This time, he really had driven his body to the brink.

Still, it was not a bad thing.

During the fever, he briefly met the Boatman.

“Do not get cocky.”

The Boatman said.

Enkrid felt a little wronged.

He had not said a single word. He had only sat on the boat and quietly watched the black river water.

For a moment, he had only thought that even a pitch-black river with nothing visible could still be worth seeing.

He had even wondered whether, if this counted as scenery, it might look different depending on one’s state of mind.

“Cocky.”

The Boatman said it again.

There was no other conversation.

There was not much to say anyway.

“One day, a wall will block your way again.”

That was the Boatman’s third line.

Enkrid nodded.

As always, it would keep happening.

The Boatman had called it a curse.

But Enkrid did not feel it was a curse.

To him, it was a chance.

A chance that let him close the gap between those with talent and those without.

A chance that had brought him this far.

A chance that had let him receive a knight’s sword.

He did not know why.

He suddenly felt like saying it, so Enkrid spoke.

“Thanks.”

As always, he said it sincerely.

The Boatman was different from ordinary people.

Even at those sudden words, he did not look flustered.

That was all.

Enkrid woke from the dream.

When he came to after the fever, he saw Dunbakel nodding off in front of him.

Why was she doing this again?

He felt something resting on his forehead.

A wet towel.

It was pleasantly cool.

It seemed she had been changing it the whole time.

“Hey. Lie down and sleep.”

“Ah, I just dozed off for a second.”

Dunbakel wiped drool away and opened her eyes.

She blinked a few times, yawned wide, and scratched her cheek hard.

Then, shyly, though she did not honestly look shy, but if she was Beastfolk maybe this counted as shy, she spoke in a smaller voice than usual while scratching up to her neck with the same nails.

“It felt like taking care of a sick little sibling back when I was young.”

“I’m older than you, though?”

“Anyway, I’ll get stronger.
Strong enough to stab through even a bastard like that, so don’t die.”

Dunbakel had glimpsed Enkrid’s death for an instant.

Her Beastfolk survival instinct had gone wild.

If you charged that thing, you died.

Even so, Enkrid had charged.

He charged even though the opponent looked like death itself the moment you saw him.

Dunbakel reflected on herself for failing to step in at that moment.

Self-loathing welled up in her.

‘I haven’t changed at all.’

That was the worst.

Had she not stayed here because she wanted a life different from her days living by a bandit’s blade?

But she did not want to die either.

Two paths, one fork, and she could not walk either one.

Then what should she do?

‘Get insanely strong.’

That was her conclusion.

She had had enough of sinking into gloom in the past. She had to move forward.

Was that not what she had learned from that crazy captain, Enkrid?

“You don’t die either.”

Enkrid answered on reflex.

After he went down, or when he could not move, Dunbakel had charged the knight’s sword again and again, her face twisted.

Anyone could tell she had charged while expecting death.

Even so, she charged.

What had driven her that far?

“Too reckle...”

“I’ll definitely get stronger.
Sniff.
So if you ever need a woman’s body warmth, tell me.
I’ll lie down with you.”

Before Enkrid could finish, Dunbakel moved her tongue first.

Had she learned from Rem to only say what she wanted to say? Somehow she was even picking up this.

“Esther is enough.”

A panther was already settled in Enkrid’s arms.

Eyes like a blue lake looked at Dunbakel.

Dunbakel met Esther’s gaze with her golden eyes and said,

“No monopolizing.”

What was that supposed to mean now?

“Grrh.”

Esther made something like a snorting sound.

Was it just Enkrid’s imagination, or did it sound like, if you want to take him, try?

Dunbakel stopped there and backed off.

After sleeping a little more, he woke to a commotion outside the camp.

Azpen had retreated, so they had won.

Which meant the party was starting.

= = =

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