WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 349: Hard at Work Even in This Weather

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"Still diligent even in weather like this."

Kwarrrrrng!

Lightning cracked the moment Enkrid muttered it.

"Something coming?"

Crang asked. Enkrid nodded.

The weather had gone mad. A storm had rolled in out of nowhere.

It had been raining since they set out, but no one expected it to turn like this.

At this point, it felt like the weather wanted to be friends with Ragna. Its wild mood swings were just like that crazy bastard with no sense of direction.

Yesterday had been a bright spring day, and now this sudden tempest.

"Seven ahead, ten left, eight right, six behind."

Jaxon said.

Dudududududu!

The rain showed no sign of easing.

It looked ready to dig the ground open.

They had oil-treated robes over themselves, but the wind bent the rain and slapped their faces anyway. Their cheeks stung.

The wind itself was vicious. It was so strong that keeping their eyes open was difficult.

The rain pounding their clothes felt like blunted arrows thrown in volleys.

And they attacked in this weather?

Calling that diligence was putting it mildly.

The other side was deeply professional.

If not, then they had come here against their will.

"Did someone take your family hostage? Is that it?"

Enkrid raised his voice toward the front.

As he spoke and stepped forward, the muddy road swallowed half his boot. One of those days where every step got on your nerves.

They lay in ambush in weather like this, then rushed in too?

Wouldn't they catch a cold first?

He was almost sincerely curious.

They called this a royal road, but really it was just a broad path with large, straight stones laid out left and right.

Supposedly, one of Crang's ancestors, a king known for his wisdom, had built it.

That was why it was called the Royal Blessing Road.

It ran from the frontier to the royal house. Follow it long enough, and you'd reach the royals.

Naurillia's core was built around that structure, cities lined up along the road.

A fresh question came to him.

What exactly was Ragna, if he could still get lost on a road like this?

As if on cue, Ragna, genius of getting lost under any circumstances, turned toward the rear.

The men covering the back advanced one step at a time.

The ones blocking the front did the same.

Enkrid narrowed his eyes and forced his vision open, and once he did, he saw everything he needed.

Three or four in armor with short swords. Several others with their hands hanging low.

The one in front spoke, no, shouted. His voice rang through the rain.

"Mercenaries? Or standing army? You don't need to risk your lives over this. We're only after one man."

Bullshit.

Everyone except the one speaking shifted their momentum.

Talking while striking, wasn't that also a trick in Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship?

The enemy pulled something similar.

Enkrid tried to read the tightening steps from all sides, then gave up.

Rain had to be moderate for sound-reading to work.

In this gale and downpour, there was no sorting anything by ear.

"Who?"

Enkrid asked even though he knew. As he asked, he cupped his right hand to his ear and let his left hang loose.

"That is..."

The man trailed off, the kind of delivery that made everyone wait for the next line.

After drawing everyone's eyes, the man in front completed the setup.

Kwarrrrrrrrr.

The rain above their heads began to take shape.

Ah.

Enkrid was genuinely impressed.

So they brought a mage.

These were not half-baked opponents.

He stopped at admiration. That was enough. He did not dodge, and he did not cut it apart with his sword.

He didn't need to.

Sorry, but this side had someone close enough to a mage too.

"Hmph."

Behind him, Esther rose in human form, not panther form, and flicked her hand.

The rain that had gathered into a round sphere broke apart and scattered in every direction.

It was spectacular.

Boom!

The burst of gathered rain rang in everyone's ears.

For a moment, the rain directly overhead disappeared.

In its place, wind three or four times stronger than before blasted outward from the point where spell met spell.

Enkrid drove strength into his legs and rooted himself in the mud. Whoooosh! The gust nearly threw him back, but he tightened his core and leaned forward slightly to endure it.

Naturally, everyone else held their ground too.

The assassins hurriedly dropped their bodies low.

"A mage!"

One of them shouted.

They were wearing oil-treated robes too.

But the sudden gale had stripped plenty of their hoods away.

Through one half-peeled hood, he glimpsed the man who had been shouting. A middle-aged man, clearly past fifty.

His gaze snapped to one side.

He was so startled he didn't even think to pull his hood back up.

Where he looked, Esther stood upright, taking the rain in an unconcerned stance.

Rain bounced off her robe, and even the wind weakened as it neared her.

A mysterious sight.

Between refracted streaks of rain, Esther raised her hand.

Index finger and thumb extended, the rest folded, she aimed at the man who had shouted "mage" and whispered.

"Dmueller's Arrow."

No one heard it over the rain. A spell formed from compressed wind took shape and flew.

"Tsk!"

The enemy mage clicked his tongue.

Pop!

His head exploded.

"Die."

Esther's voice was only clearly heard after she'd already killed him.

Enkrid found himself thinking that in moments like this, she should say "He's dead," not "Die."

"...What."

That mutter came not from the assassin leader, but from the whip-wielding escort.

Surprised?

So was he.

Enkrid said it to himself.

He had known Esther was a mage, but he hadn't known she could crush an opponent like this.

"Why are you so good at fighting?"

Rem asked Esther in a flat tone.

"I've always been good."

Esther and Rem got along better than expected. She answered without hesitation.

"Nice."

Rem just nodded.

"Kill them all!"

The assassin leader came to his senses and shouted. Only then did they rush in from every side.

Had they already forgotten the failed spell? No, they were well trained.

What did well trained mean?

Doing what had to be done when it had to be done.

That was exactly what they did.

Keeping the encirclement intact, they fired poisoned daggers and crossbows. They did not recklessly charge.

"Ah-"

Enkrid had escaped places where soldiers boxed him in, terrain was used to deceive him, and even sorcerers and mages joined the assault.

Compared to that, this barely counted as an encirclement.

And now he had Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, Dunbakel, and Esther with him.

And their mage had started the fight by getting his head blown apart.

This was more than breakable by force.

Enkrid thought it and swung at once. Five crossbow bolts aimed at Crang struck his silver longsword and bounced away.

The whip escort also pulled out a shield and covered one side.

Daggers slammed into it in rapid bursts. The tall shield, long from top to bottom, did exactly what it needed to do.

At the same time, Rem plunged into the assassins like an enraged beast.

As he broke in, the assassins scattered in all directions.

The moment they spread, arms and legs flew through the air.

They were too slow to get away from Rem's charge.

Rem reached them before they could escape.

Enkrid caught sight of Rem's axe when he paused briefly after the rush. A weapon he had taken to the forge and modified.

"Make the handle this long."

Its shaft was longer than a normal axe.

His old hand axe had been about half a forearm. Now it was half again longer than that.

The axe traced silent arcs, severing and splitting arms, legs, heads.

Its real reach was far longer than it looked.

"You dodged?"

Rem said, turning.

One man had barely avoided the axe Rem had swung in full earnest.

In weather like this, gambesons and metal armor were hard to wear.

The enemy was the same.

He wore thin, studded light leather armor and held two shortswords.

He tore off his half-loosened cloak and shouted.

"You crazy bastard!"

He looked less like an assassin and more like a mercenary confident in his own skill.

"Do you know who I am?!"

He shouted.

Rem answered with steel.

The axe wasn't all he carried.

Two throwing axes dangled at his waist, and one collapsible short spear was strapped to his back.

He also had short daggers tucked all over his body.

One of them split rain and wind.

The moment Rem's left hand flashed, a spinning throwing axe flew out and buried itself in the man's skull.

The struck mercenary's legs kicked back as he crossed both swords in front of his chest.

A motion imprinted just before death. He guarded the front, but the axe was already in his head.

The two swords crossed pointlessly, clacked, and collapsed downward. His arms dropped, his body lost strength. He flew backward and hit the ground.

The axe stayed lodged in his skull like one buried in a stump, proving its presence.

The pouring rain quickly washed the blood away.

Watching that, Enkrid realized it.

This was beyond simply breakable by force.

They didn't know.

That much was clear immediately.

These assassins had come for Crang's head, but they had no idea who had joined to guard him.

They made the call in haste, moved right away, and pushed their speed.

Instead of weighing details, they had been busy blocking the road.

Naturally, that had been the plan.

That was why Kraiss said taking the royal road and moving fast would favor them.

Even Enkrid hadn't expected them to walk into it this perfectly.

"Ugh!"

"Ack!"

A chain of screams rose from the rear.

Ragna was rampaging. Every time the long, thick sword in his hand moved, blood sprayed from enemy necks.

Did it look like flashy heavy swordsmanship? No.

He killed them one by one with exact posture and precise thrusts.

While Rem rampaged and Ragna sealed the rear, the one having the most fun sprang out and started wrecking everything.

"Here, here! Over here!"

Dunbakel charged while swinging her scimitar. She kicked off the ground, loaded her thigh muscles, and shot forward like a line.

Three assassins targeted her with slings.

They whipped cords and launch straps over their heads and hurled hand-made rounds, neatly carved stones.

The moment Dunbakel saw that, her eyes went feral.

"Where did you find this cursed crap!"

All the frustration she'd built up burst out.

Naturally, their speed and force were nowhere near what Rem could throw by hand.

Dunbakel drew her scimitar and twisted her wrist.

She caught the rounds on the broad face of the blade.

The collision should have cracked like an explosion.

Was the sound swallowed by the storm?

No.

Dunbakel accepted the incoming force on the blade face and flicked it aside.

Tididididing.

A marvel of precise angle control.

A stunt where delicacy and boldness locked together.

Dunbakel too.

Was she in the genius class as well?

Maybe.

Then again, if she weren't, Rem would never have kept her close and trained her.

She knocked the rounds aside as if letting them flow past and rushed in.

If Rem looked like an enraged beast, Dunbakel looked like an actual beast.

Because she was beastfolk.

Her fur was soaked by rain, but it didn't seem to weigh her down. She was incredibly fast.

Her scimitar made broad sweeps, forcing enemies back or cutting chunks from careless bodies, and she smashed heads with her claws.

Anyone caught by those claws had their leather helmet split long and open, useless at that point.

"Where did these monsters come from?!"

One assassin shouted.

Enkrid was still knocking away crossbows and daggers aimed at Crang, popping dropped blades up with his instep, grabbing them, and throwing them.

One of those daggers buried itself in the shouting man's forehead.

"Ah, sorry. Were you talking?"

The dead man said nothing more. With a dagger in his forehead, he only twitched on the ground, limbs trembling.

The rain had no intention of easing.

Sshhhhhhh.

Kwarrrrrng!

Same with the lightning. Far away, another flash burst, and thunder rolled.

Enkrid spoke casually.

"Were you always this popular?"

He was asking Crang.

"More than before, lately."

Crang answered.

"Must make the continent's greatest bard jealous."

"Just a moment of passing fame."

Crang calmly returned Enkrid's joke.

Crang had written poetry and prose since childhood, so he was good with jokes too.

The whip escort wanted to ask if this was really the time for jokes, but kept his mouth shut.

For good reason.

The fight was ending almost as soon as it had begun.

Esther, who had killed the mage, stood impassively beside Enkrid.

Rem threw axes at those trying to flee and wiped out the group that had blocked the front.

The one presumed to be leader had his head split open in the first charge.

Ragna was no different.

The six who blocked the rear thought one clean strike would kill him.

Ragna had only made himself look that way. If they were sharp enough to see through that, they would have read his level at first glance.

They only realized the gap after they were picked off one by one by thrusts that looked like practice drills, and by then it was too late.

Jaxon merely pivoted now and then, stabbed through the hearts of anyone circling around or trying to exploit an opening, and returned to his original position.

Dunbakel killed the rest.

"Hey, where are you going!"

She even cried out sadly to enemies trying to run.

"They're running."

"Ah."

When Enkrid said it, Dunbakel let out a disappointed sigh.

Crazy woman.

The escort had figured out what Dunbakel was too.

Still, madness aside, one look at how she fought made it obvious. She was absolutely not beneath him.

Naturally, Dunbakel hadn't been idle all this time.

The beastfolk trained and drilled under Rem was different now from when she first fought Enkrid.

But what shocked the escort most was the man in front of him.

Enkrid.

Even while tossing out jokes, he knocked away flying daggers, crossbow bolts, and sling rounds in this storm with his sword.

It was close to a stunt.

And he did it like it was nothing. A startling skill.

Enkrid had already noticed that his Sensory Art had become much sharper and more developed than before.

Was it because of the experience of being tightly trapped in enemy lines?

The blade of instinct activated with exceptional sharpness.

So even without seeing, blocking was simply easy.

"You really do fight well."

Crang said in admiration. Corpses were strewn across the ground in near total slaughter.

Whether these bodies would later become ghouls, or become Drowners, monsters said to be born only in rivers or torrential rain, was unknown. But that was not something to care about now.

"Then we move out again."

Enkrid simply led the group onward. It was handled, so they moved.

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