WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 343: [Having Fun?]

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"Am I falling behind?"

Sinar felt something close to danger.

Enkrid's growth was what made her feel it.

Did winning or losing matter? No. The problem was this: if she got pushed back this hard, she would not be able to give the man in front of her the kind of thrill he deserved.

He lived for fighting.

What was the best gift for someone walking the path to knighthood?

What made that man's heart pound the hardest?

Not peerless beauty. That much was certain. Romantic charm would not shake his heart.

Then what?

The sword.

Something expressed through battle, skill, and ability.

Of course, Sinar had a hidden move too. She just had not expected to reveal it here.

Elves grew by feeding on the essence of the forest, and once they trained past a certain level, they could raise a tree of essence inside their bodies.

Normally, that took centuries to build up. That was the elven baseline.

But Sinar was different from ordinary elves.

She had talent.

A talent for absorbing raw essence itself and cultivating it.

Holding it inside her body, then using it when the moment came.

A hidden move. Her trump card.

Sinar brought it out. She wanted to see Enkrid's shocked face and watch him go wild with excitement.

Why?

That did not matter.

Ah, this is fun.

This was the first time Sinar had felt this.

Her heart pounded. Ecstasy swelled in her chest. From the moment she sensed her opponent's emotions shifting, one thing rose in her.

Joy.

Fun.

It sent goosebumps over her skin.

"Are you having fun?"

She asked inwardly. Enkrid's entire body reacted. Watching that was pure delight.

Control your emotions.

She had heard that ever since she was born, ever since she first became aware of the world around her.

Elves could feel others' emotions directly, unfiltered, and that racial trait naturally made them emotionally easy to sway.

That was the downside of sensitivity.

Once they recognized the problem, solving it was the obvious next step.

And elves did exactly that.

They faced it, then solved it.

Afterward, elves trained the mind.

They learned to govern and control their own hearts.

No matter what happened, stay composed.

In some ways, it was similar to Heart of the Beast.

Control your mind, then your body, then your emotions. Sinar had passed through every step of that process, which was why she could stand here now.

If the condition for a Frog to leave its homeland was not losing its head over the word heart, then the condition for an elf was control over body and mind.

They traded blows and sweat. She watched sweat run down Enkrid's face and drip to the ground.

His black hair and blue eyes curved softly.

His crescent eyes looked as if they were glowing. It was a little past noon.

The full spring sunlight poured down, wrapped around his hair, cast a long shadow forward, and laid shade across the left side of his face.

As she watched him blend into the scenery, it felt as if he gave off a strange aura.

The elf saw, smelled, and felt all of it with her keen senses.

Elves were born beautiful.

Perfectly symmetrical eyes and brows, and a sharp nose line down the center of the face, often left those who looked at them lovesick.

The phrase inhuman beauty did not come from nowhere.

Elves were beings beautiful beyond humans.

Of course, now and then one fell far from that ideal, but most looked unmistakably elven.

Sinar had been born an elf, so she had seen countless faces like that.

If it was only about his face, she was not sure.

The atmosphere around that lively man pulled in everything nearby. She had felt that many times before, but Sinar's attitude now was different.

It was not resolve, and not determination. It was simply a natural flow.

She would swing her sword while leaning into her emotions.

And that was what Sinar did. She acted on emotion, not control.

* * *

Instinct, or sixth sense.

An ominous sensation brushed the back of his neck. Enkrid felt a chill, and every hair on his body seemed to stand on end.

It felt like the Reaper had come up beside him and whispered in his ear.

Everything he saw, heard, and felt blurred together and entered the realm of sixth sense.

A strange viewpoint opened, as if he were looking down at his own body from above.

Enkrid saw another blade aiming for his back.

The moment he saw and felt it, he moved.

He twisted sideways. He shifted onto his right foot as a pivot and drew his Gladius with his left hand.

As he drew, he twisted his wrist and caught the blade on the flat.

Thunk.

It was not heavy, but it felt like being stabbed.

At some point, Sinar had vanished from in front of him.

His body hair stood up again.

His thoughts accelerated, and Enkrid knew what he had to do. No, he felt it.

He needed an answer close to instinct, so he gave one.

He threw the Gladius toward the direction that felt wrong.

Whoosh.

As the blade shot out in a straight line, he drew Spark.

Tiri-ring!

Without even a second to steady his breathing, he carved a wide arc with Spark. Spark was made for thrusting. It was not a blade built for cutting, but this attack would be unexpected.

It was.

Sinar did not panic, but she did acknowledge that Enkrid's strike was brilliantly creative.

She met the blade and redirected it.

Chiririririring!

Spark and Naidhl clashed, and sparks scattered.

Enkrid released Spark too.

Then he gripped his silver longsword with both hands.

Hup.

After taking a short breath, he raised his senses to the limit and activated Focus Point.

He did not know how, but Sinar's blade was in front of him and behind him.

Both were physical, solid blades.

A trick of Will?

It did not look like that. It did not feel like that either.

Enkrid brought his sword down at the Sinar in front of him.

Sinar lifted her blade as if to block, then her entire body blurred like a mirage.

At the same time, Naidhl thrust in from both left and right.

High-speed movement?

No. Every one of them had physical substance.

A spell? Something mixed with magic?

There was no time to think.

The instant he brought his sword down, Enkrid leaped forward and rolled.

Two sharp lines slashed into the ground where he had been.

Sinar stopped moving her sword.

Instead, she only stood there, silently steadying her breath.

Still motionless, she looked at Enkrid, who had not relaxed his stance.

"What did you do?"

After rolling, Enkrid asked from one knee.

The blade in his hand reflected sunlight.

He still had not dropped his battle stance. His posture alone, and the pressure from his blade, were threatening, but an elf's eye and judgment were far from ordinary.

"Are you planning to propose here?"

What is she talking about?

Then Enkrid realized he was down on one knee.

"I'm saying I can still fight."

"Is that so?" the elf asked without a smile.

By then, more eyes had gathered around them.

From guests who had come just to cross blades with Enkrid, to Rem, Audin, and Ragna. Dunbakel and Teresa had naturally been drawn in too.

What had pulled in the Madman Company?

The divine skill Sinar had shown.

Her technique and mastery were exceptional.

So exceptional that even Ragna, watching, could tell this was no ordinary display.

Did he think all elves could fight like that?

He had wandered plenty, and spent time with many elven swordsmen along the way.

The most memorable had been a dual-blade elf who targeted vital points with perfect precision.

The Sinar before him now was several times more dangerous than that elf.

She had clearly been in front of Enkrid, yet it looked like a blade had burst out from behind him.

How was that possible?

Because it was precise and delicate?

No. That was just a characteristic of elven swordsmanship.

She had clearly swung at empty air, yet the strike came from behind Enkrid.

Rem narrowed his eyes too.

What had that elf just done?

Audin watched with a grin.

"Magic?" Dunbakel asked, almost to herself.

"No," Teresa said. She had fought many mages before. Her instincts said this was not magic.

Sinar heard them and let their words drift aside, then looked at Enkrid.

A faint smile rose on her face before she even noticed it herself.

It was the first smile Enkrid had ever seen on Sinar.

With that faint smile still there, she spoke.

"Having fun?"

It was a simple question.

Sunlight, dust, gentle air.

Feeling all of it, Enkrid nodded.

She was asking if he was having fun. Of course he was. He had never faced a technique like this before. He did not understand it at all.

The thought of breaking down its principle and grasping it sent a sharp thrill through his whole body.

The fine hairs on his skin were still standing.

Enkrid rose.

"More than anything."

"Then sparring with me must be the most fun."

It was completely unexpected. Enkrid could not answer right away.

The most fun?

They were still in the middle of a conversation.

After the elf spoke, everyone paused to think.

A short pause, but long enough.

Then a heavy thud came from behind the elf.

Thunk.

It was the kind of sound that naturally drew everyone's gaze.

It came from behind Enkrid. Audin stood there in a short-punch stance.

"Brother Captain, have you started getting the feel for Point-Blank Burst? Once you get the hang of it, you'll find a different kind of fun. There is no joy in life greater than learning and mastering things."

Hm?

Enkrid's thoughts stalled for a second.

He wondered what that sudden line was supposed to mean.

Audin was not finished.

Beside him, Ragna swung his sword.

Whoosh, whoosh.

"Heavy-and-Fast Sword."

A sword infused with Will. That was not the kind of sword you learned just because someone taught it.

Maybe his old self would not have known, but his current self did.

If you wanted to become a knight, imitation was not enough. You had to make it your own.

He knew that better than ever because he was already walking that path.

"You may not be able to learn it outright, but can you really say sparring gives you nothing to feel?" Ragna asked, as if reading Enkrid's thoughts. He stopped his sword, his eyes shining. His will showed plainly, like a steadfast, solid blade.

Enkrid doubted this was the moment to stir up momentum like that.

As he stared in thought, the third one stepped up.

"Look, I once saw some crazy old geezer do this and picked it up roughly. It'd be good to learn."

Rem was wrapping rope around his axe.

What were these guys doing?

Were they trying to stress that sparring with them was fun too?

"So was fighting Wandering Teresa not fun?" Teresa asked, and Dunbakel rolled her shoulders, looking ready to charge in at any moment.

They all seemed to be voicing silent protest, and Enkrid let out a small laugh without meaning to.

What was there to say?

Just because what Sinar showed him had sent a thrill through him, would his interest in sparring and fighting with these people disappear?

People said that when you gathered a hundred people, you got a hundred colors.

Enkrid felt like he could die of joy just from learning and experiencing new things.

So their reaction did not bother him at all.

Enkrid laughed.

At that moment-

"What, do you need to stand in line to talk to Captain Enki?"

There were many people watching the spar, from blade-savvy mercenaries to regular soldiers.

Bell and Vengeance were among them.

They turned toward the voice.

It was familiar.

"Been well?"

His neatly groomed beard and hair showed a professional touch.

His clothes also looked different from Border Guard gear.

A man using a short cane stepped out from between the soldiers.

It was Marcus Baisar, the former castellan.

The way he raised the hand holding his cane made him look like an idle drifter dropping by next door, but the guards behind him gave off no easy presence.

Dust clung to their shoulders. They looked like they had come straight here at the end of a journey without even washing up.

Enkrid gave Marcus a military salute in greeting.

"Not even a cup of tea? Do you usually leave your guests standing outside?" Marcus asked, and Enkrid thought tea was something you asked the castellan for.

Still, he could not exactly turn him away.

Judging by their appearance, Marcus had arrived in the city and come straight to him without even visiting the castellan.

"So, no tea?" Marcus asked again.

Enkrid nodded.

It was time to end the spar.

No one seemed disappointed. Enkrid also needed time to replay what Sinar had shown him.

A sword strike that could be felt and had real substance, yet was physically impossible.

How was that possible, and what was the principle?

He needed to mull it over, replay it, and think it through.

"What a buzzkill."

Rem summed up the situation in one line.

Sinar turned away with an indifferent face and said,

"A meddler. A meddler."

There was no way to tell from her face whether she truly meant it.

Still, she withdrew without complaint.

Watching Marcus's smiling face, Enkrid thought he had stepped in at exactly the right time.

"Let's go."

There was no chance of tea in the barracks. Enkrid headed for the dining hall.

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