WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 340: Run and Laugh

= = =

This time, their target was not a Cursed Ground, but demon creatures active along the foothills of the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range.

Including this lot, people called them one of Border Guard's three great disasters.

It was a serious issue for the royal palace, and even for Border Guard itself, but they did not officially classify it as a disaster.

That name came from nearby villagers and traveling merchants, whispered among themselves.

To them, it was a disaster.

It was two days away on foot, even counting rest breaks.

"Should we run?" Enkrid asked, though the answer was obvious.

Why waste time?

If it took two days on foot, they could just run without resting.

That made it half a day.

"Let's do it."

With Rem in front, everyone nodded, and Enkrid took off.

He did not sprint at full power. He ran at a steady pace.

The whole group followed him.

Sinar was once again impressed by that man's decisiveness.

'Run all the way there.'

Most people would never even think of it.

They had both the stamina and the sheer brute stubbornness to cut a two-day distance down to half a day, and they actually did it.

Making soldiers run to absurd lengths during training had never been pointless.

Rapid marching was one of the highest priorities in any army.

Naturally, the ones who made others do it had to run better themselves.

Who would follow someone who could not prove his own skill?

They kept running and quickly reached the foothills northeast of Border Guard, where Green Pearl could be seen.

The master of this third low-grade Cursed Ground was five trolls.

These things were drifters that used the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range as their base.

In truth, this was not really a Cursed Ground issue. The problem was that the five of them roamed a vast mountain range, using it as their hideout.

People called it a low-grade Cursed Ground, but those five demon creatures acted as if the whole region were theirs.

They watched merchant caravans, and if a group looked even slightly weak, they killed and looted it. At night, they also raided houses built near cities.

Last year alone, three merchant groups were killed.

If the number of escorts was even a little short, those bastards caught it instantly.

On the other hand, if people prepared thoroughly and hunted them down, they vanished like smoke.

They were a monster pack born to hunt.

Witnesses said they carried hard wooden clubs and hid themselves in brush.

That meant they were smart demon creatures that knew how to hunt.

Enemies like that were the worst to deal with.

Just finding them was already a task.

Enkrid remembered what Kraiss had said.

It was about how to deal with the Troll Five Brothers.

"We'll probably use bait to draw them out."

Kraiss naturally had another plan.

'Too much hassle,' Enkrid thought.

"Can you track them?"

So he chose the simpler method.

He threw the question to Dunbakel.

"Not by scent. Too many foul smells mixed in."

Beastfolk were born trackers.

Their sense of smell was even sharper than an elf's sensitivity.

Still, Dunbakel shook her head.

Those Troll Five Brothers bastards had relieved themselves all over the mountain range to wipe their scent trail, and they rubbed things like tree sap on their skin to muddy the smell.

"If we keep following, I can sort the scents out eventually."

"How long?"

"Well... a month?"

She was not sure.

Which meant she did not know how long it would really take.

So it could take more than a month.

"I'll track them."

Rem stepped up.

He scratched inside his ear and casually swept his gaze over the edge of the range as he spoke.

Enkrid did not know Rem's past.

He knew a little, but not in detail.

Still, when Rem said he would do something, it meant he could do it properly.

Enkrid himself had done some pathfinding and had worked as a bounty hunter, but experience did not mean he had exceptional skill compared to others.

He only had the basics.

He had once learned tracking from a hunter named Yenrid in Green Pearl, and that would help, sure, but it still was not enough to instantly find five trolls that had stayed hidden this long.

These five demon creatures were not ordinary.

Not all humans were the same, and not all demon creatures were the same either.

Not every ghoul was alike.

The same went for that insect called Bell.

Why would man-faced hounds be any different?

There was individual variation.

Among them, these five trolls looked specialized in hiding and hunting.

"I'll chase and drive them in. You kill them."

He said it simply, but it was not a simple job.

"I'll help too," Sinar said.

She stepped up right away.

Elves were creatures specialized for the environments where they were born and raised.

For her, forests and mountains were easy ground to operate in.

If she had met that knight bastard in a forest before, she would not have lost so easily.

Even then, she probably still could not beat him down or overpower him by force, but she was confident she would not go down easily.

In any fight, you only know once blades cross.

Sinar had learned that truth by watching Enkrid.

He did not give up, even when the result was already visible.

Thinking back, maybe that was why she had wanted to spar from the start. She liked that side of him.

"No need," Rem said.

He shook his head.

Their methods were different.

That meant they would need time to sync up.

It would be a waste of time.

Sinar nodded too.

If he said he was enough alone, that was enough.

Even if the trolls were extraordinary, this side was a gathering of people beyond extraordinary.

"How long?"

A stale smell had started to rise from Enkrid's body.

Spring had come, but mornings and nights were still cold.

He washed his face, hands, and feet, but not his body.

He felt grimy.

So he wanted to finish as quickly as possible and head back.

You could endure discomfort, including bad smells, but if you did not wash, you became more vulnerable to illness.

So washing mattered.

The others likely felt the same.

Ah, except Dunbakel.

She was a beastfolk with a sensitive nose, yet she hated bathing.

Enkrid found that absurd, those two things existing together, but if she hated it, what could he do?

In the end, all he could do was force her to wash.

Everyone else generally agreed with Enkrid.

"Light a fire and relax. Let's finish before dawn," Rem said.

Then he started toward the mountain range.

He seemed to be walking slowly, but at some point he slipped inside and disappeared.

"Let's roast jerky," Enkrid said after watching Rem vanish.

Rest time had to be used properly too.

"Let's," said Audin.

Audin and the others settled in, and Sinar dug a hole beneath a large tree and filled it with dry leaves and straw.

She had been stuffing dry twigs into her pockets as they walked, so there was no need to gather more kindling.

Travel was easier with diligence and preparation.

In that sense, they were all prepared travelers.

Even after the squad that had come to greet them left, no one had any trouble camping.

Not one of them had lived without wandering the continent at least once.

Everyone handled their own part.

Audin brought a long branch and stripped the bark with his palm.

It was an impressive trick every time Enkrid saw it.

It made cleaner skewers than washing with water.

Meanwhile, Dunbakel twitched her nose, went into the forest at the edge of the range, then came back with several squirrels.

From there, Enkrid took over.

He pulled a small pot from his pack. While Dunbakel skinned the squirrels and drained the blood, Sinar lit the fire.

It was a pit fire that produced almost no smoke.

She really was a talented elf.

"Fire is mysterious," she said.

She was always warning people to be careful with flames, so comments like that always left him wondering.

Enkrid put the bled squirrels in the pot, took out a clean cloth, and crushed them whole.

After crushing even the brains and innards, he sprinkled in a little salt and pepper and shaped the meat into balls.

Then he unhooked his canteen, poured enough water into the pot to shallowly cover everything, set it over the fire, and brought it to a boil.

He dropped the meatballs into the boiling water, then tore in a few pieces of seasoned jerky.

Seasoned jerky worked as seasoning on its own.

As the broth deepened, a rich aroma spread.

It was a recipe he had learned from Rem.

The western tribes supposedly ate an animal from head to toe.

"Good," Audin said.

He smiled more deeply than usual.

No matter how inhuman your combat strength became, you still had to eat well.

That was what Enkrid believed.

Did knights not get hungry?

Will was mysterious, sure, but it could not solve hunger.

The more muscle training added to the body, the hungrier you got.

"Let's eat."

The well-cooked squirrel meatballs, jerky, and seasoned broth were excellent.

One bite filled the mouth with flavor.

No fishy taste, just pure umami.

The soft meatballs and hot broth warmed the stomach, and the soaked jerky gave a satisfying chew.

It had become a proper quick stew.

"It really clings to your tongue," Dunbakel said.

Everyone agreed.

Enkrid also drank the broth and chewed a meatball.

Amid the umami-rich, meaty meatballs, the jerky still kept its own character.

It was genuinely good.

He was not gifted at cooking, but he had eaten a lot of delicious food.

Because of that, he had naturally gotten better at making things too.

That was how they all filled their bellies.

Afterward, they kept warm by the fire and passed the time.

Thinking over what each person had taught him, Enkrid repeated the motion of gripping and releasing his sword hand.

He was mulling over the striking weapon art Audin had just taught him.

'The core is grip strength.'

Hold loose, then tighten at the instant of impact.

Delivering force mattered more than speed.

Thinking it through again, it was hard to sort this into categories like Straight, Heavy, Bewildering, Fast, and Soft.

You could not explain everything in the world as straight, heavy, deceptive, fast, or soft.

The swordsmanship once compiled by the genius of the past, Leonessis Oniac, had now branched in different directions.

Among those branches were people who reorganized swordsmanship in their own way.

This technique felt like something that came from one of those offshoots.

'Focus striking force into one point.'

Was that all?

Then how did you focus force?

What exactly was striking force?

The more he thought, the more questions came.

Instead of asking for answers, Enkrid immersed himself and studied alone.

It was difficult, but he felt he could grasp it, even if only roughly.

This was different from before.

He had already reached a level where he could create swordsmanship from his own experience.

He had even realized a fragment of Will.

Now Enkrid stood in a place where his old talent could no longer define him.

Even so, he could not understand every principle of everything.

He had received a knight's blade, but he had not read everything carried in that blade.

Did that make it a problem?

No, it did not.

'No need to know everything.'

He could understand part of it and move forward from there.

He had walked that road even with nothing.

Now it felt like walking a paved road with signposts.

Again and again, Enkrid swung his sword through empty air, trying to grasp the technique.

Grip strength was not the only key.

You had to make the muscles explode in an instant.

How?

You had to loosen your whole body, then tighten it.

Then how did you transmit that into the weapon in your hand?

You moved from tensed muscles into the action of tightening the hand that had been holding softly.

'Without Isolation Technique, this cannot be learned.'

That was his conclusion.

So he could learn it.

He already had the body built through Isolation Technique.

"Amazing," Audin muttered as he watched.

Enkrid looked up and met his eyes.

The bear-like soldier who always faced him with a smile now had a straight mouth.

He was truly surprised.

The technique he had taught was one of the order's weapon arts.

In the War Order, techniques from many sects often mixed together, and this was one he had restored and learned.

Its name was Gather-and-Burst.

He had thought it would be quite difficult to read the principle of this improved old technique, but watching from beside him, Enkrid seemed to have worked out a rough outline.

"Can you do it?" Audin asked.

"It needs repeated training," Enkrid said.

Understanding it and immediately performing it with the body were different matters.

Even so, the fact that he understood it at all was shocking.

Audin had thought nothing could surprise him anymore, but this truly did.

Had he not seen Enkrid learn weapon arts from Rem?

His talent had no balance.

It was the extreme of absurdity.

A bizarre contradiction that made no sense from front to back.

When you watched him learn and train, he looked terrible, then at impossible moments he jumped over entire stages.

There was no way to explain that process in words.

It simply did not make sense.

Outstanding talent?

No, that was not it.

It was strange and unique.

Close to mystery.

This time was different, though.

He struggled, dug in, and tore through it while learning.

You could see the process.

He grasped the principle, held onto it, and kept thinking without stopping.

The power to persist.

From the moment Audin showed Gather-and-Burst, he had probably kept it in his head the whole time.

He said he learned by asking all kinds of questions, but what he focused on was Audin's bursting strike.

What he had learned was astonishing, and prioritizing Audin's technique was wise, smart, and admirable.

"Heh heh heh."

Audin burst out laughing.

"Still far to go," Enkrid said.

The sun was sinking low, the kind of hour when they might consider staying another day.

The moment Enkrid answered, a distant "Kkwoooaaak" cry drifted in from far away.

It was a troll's roar.

Sinar, who had been stirring the campfire with a twig, scattered the flames and muttered, "Fire safety."

Why was this elf like this?

Enkrid started to rise, but someone shot out first, swift as wind.

"I'm going ahead, brother."

That voice sounded brighter and livelier than ever.

Hm?

Before he could even respond,

"Hahaha."

Audin burst out laughing.

No one knew why, but Audin had gotten fired up.

"What, you crazy bastard."

Rem reacted from the other side.

He had already come close enough for his voice to carry.

Behind him, they could make out the trolls.

Two held clubs, and the other three gripped spears in reverse grip.

Rem had lured them while almost, but not quite, exposing his back, so they looked ready to throw spears the moment they saw an opening.

Because Audin came charging in while laughing, Rem stopped in confusion, and the two trolls who saw that threw their spears.

The spearheads, thrown with full-body force, ripped through the air.

At the same instant, a slicing whoosh rang out.

= = =

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried