WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 36: The Fog of Annihilation

Ragna felt confused but quickly stopped thinking about it.

‘He was always strange.’

From his perspective, Enkrid was far from normal.

"In that case, do I start now?" Enkrid asked.

"Yes," Ragna replied.

Under the clear sky, they began anew, starting with how to hold the sword. No, they began with finding the right weapon.

"Since you have good strength, there's no reason to use a light weapon. Switching to a heavier longsword would be better. Let's trade."

Ragna handed over the sword at his waist. Enkrid thought it was a drastic suggestion. Who easily gives up a weapon they've gotten used to?

"I haven't used it long enough to get attached," Ragna added.

It wasn’t a particularly good sword, Enkrid realized. His own seemed better, but he agreed. The person teaching him was Ragna. He decided to follow his advice.

"Got it."

He switched from an arming sword to a longsword. The longer grip allowed for two-handed use, the blade was a handspan longer, and it weighed more. Though not a top-quality sword, the balance and finish were decent.

"Right hand in front, left hand behind."

After switching swords, they began with the basics of grip. Enkrid immersed himself completely in it. Ragna felt the same way. Teaching Enkrid was stimulating; he too got engrossed. They spent the entire morning this way, unaware of the time passing until they were interrupted.

"Skipping meals to play like kids, what are you doing?"

Rem arrived, making Enkrid aware of the time.

"Come to think of it, I'm hungry," Ragna muttered.

"You bastard, are you bothering our squad leader?"

"Screw off, barbarian."

"You're the one who should screw off, lazy bum."

The two bickered. Enkrid, drenched in sweat, let his sword hang. He was quite exhausted. Starting over wasn't easy.

‘There’s not enough time.’

There simply wasn't enough time. Initially, he planned to learn techniques efficiently, expecting his skills to improve since he could repeat today.

‘It’s the exact opposite.’

He hadn’t realized his basics were lacking. And he realized something else. Building basics under the watchful eye of a skilled swordsman was vastly different from doing it alone.

"Why did you position your feet that way?"

"You're gripping too loosely."

"Are you trying to thrust or slash?"

"What are you trying to do?"

"This won't work. Let's start with proper walking."

Ragna's criticisms rained down like a storm. Each piece of advice became a valuable asset. While bickering with Rem, Ragna suddenly asked Enkrid.

"But don't you want to improve your sword skills just to show off?"

Ragna remembered why he had picked up a sword as a child. Who wouldn’t want to stand out and be recognized?

Enkrid naturally had ambition and a competitive spirit. Among his fantasies was receiving a handkerchief from a lady he was protecting.

Who wouldn’t want that?

Everyone had a desire to be acknowledged.

"Of course, I want to show off. A lot," Enkrid admitted. He wanted to be cheered by people and be the hero of a minstrel’s song. It was only natural.

Ragna nodded. That seemed to answer his question.

"What are you saying? Anyway, assemble. The enemy has been spotted," Rem announced.

It was time for battle again. Enkrid nodded. Seeing this, Ragna thought he had made a mistake.

‘Will he survive today?’

If Enkrid went into battle like this, what would happen?

Unfamiliar with his new sword, his skills were clumsy and awkward. It was the sword he had honed today. He expected Enkrid to die.

‘He has no talent.’

Building basics had shown Ragna how poor Enkrid's skills were. It wasn't something that could be fixed overnight. Ragna briefly blamed himself.

‘Did I push him into death?’

He regretted it. His mouth had gotten him into trouble. What good had ever come from his interventions?

Now he had done it again. With a sigh of regret, Ragna resolved to stick close.

‘I want to protect him today.’

"The enemy!"

The time for battle approached quickly. Before they even dismantled their makeshift camp, the enemy infantry emerged from beyond the tall grass, advancing rapidly. It was an unnaturally swift march.

As the units gathered to face the enemy, the way the enemy’s units assembled was peculiar. Scattered groups each carried a tall banner.

Flap!

The flags on the banners fluttered strongly as a sudden wind blew from the enemy towards them. Squinting against the wind that stung his eyes, Enkrid sensed that this battle would not be easy. His survival instincts, honed over years, warned him. That instinct proved accurate quickly.

"What the hell?"

A squad leader at the front of the assembled infantry muttered. A familiar face. Squad Leader Benzence. They had exchanged awkward salutes when parting ways at the medical tent.

Now, thick fog began to form between Enkrid and the squad leader.

"We've been hit!"

Before the squad leader could speak, the Elf company commander assessed the situation. The elf's sensitive senses picked up the battlefield’s shift.

‘Magic? Sorcery?’

Thick fog began to roll in. It was not natural. The elf, attuned to nature, sensed something unnatural. The fog thickened quickly, soon obscuring everything.

"Commander!"

From the panic in the squad leader’s voice, the Elf commander realized something important.

‘No one was prepared for this.’

Suddenly, no one could see. Everyone must be panicking. This wasn't just a problem for the 4th Company. If this fog was artificially created, it wouldn't end soon.

This ominous feeling soon became reality.

Thud thud thud thud!

Bolts and arrows began to fly. Invisible arrows rained down. It was a sudden onslaught of death from beyond the fog.

Thud!

Bolts struck soldiers nearby, one even hitting the squad leader in the head. The Elf commander heightened her senses and quickly moved back. Arrows struck where she had stood.

She drew her sword and swung it.

Ting!

Two arrows clattered off her sword. She then grabbed the fallen squad leader’s body to use as a shield. Without it, she would be killed by stray arrows.

Fog and arrows.

‘A planned strategy.’

They had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

"It worked!"

The commander of Azpen's forces felt a surge of joy. He would soon decorate this battlefield with victory. They had expended considerable resources for this. Failure was not an option. As the fog thickened, the commander shouted.

"Fire!"

His command, filled with joy and excitement, released a volley of prepared arrows and bolts at the enemy.

Azpen had used sorcery such as " The Fog of Annihilation" to blind their opponents! At the commander's cry, the sorcerer smiled with satisfaction.

The sorcery had succeeded.

It was a ritual using the blood of a hundred newborn lambs, calves, and foals, and water from an untouched lake. It wasn't just simple ingredients. Much had been sacrificed for this sorcery. The commander didn't know the details.

Nevertheless, the sorcerer had poured his heart and soul into it. The terrain, the climate, and the rain rituals had all been for this moment. The ground needed to be wet for the spell to work. The blood-soaked flags and poles were the medium for the spell. The soldiers protected by the poles were unaffected by the fog. This was the sorcerer’s trick.

But calling it "just a trick" was an understatement.

While the enemy couldn’t see, they could. Even a fool could see the immense advantage this provided in a large-scale battle. The sorcerer didn't care about the battle’s outcome. The success of the spell was his only joy.

"Happy with your success?"

The squad leader guarding the banner asked. He was the same skilled swordsman who had cornered Enkrid earlier.

"We almost failed, so yes, I’m happy," the sorcerer recalled the enemy’s night raid.

Their attack had nearly ruined months of preparation. Thinking back, it was terrifying. The squad leader remembered the one who led the night raid.

‘That bastard.’

As a member of the Gray Hound, also known as the Tenacious Lover, he wanted to kill that man himself. That man must be somewhere in the enemy camp. The Azpen squad leader would never forget the face illuminated by the torchlight. The delicate face of the enemy soldier. He wanted to meet him again.

As the fog spread, it carried the scent of water. Simultaneously, visibility vanished. Squad Leader Benzence, who had been in sight moments ago, disappeared.

Not only him. Ragna, who had been right next to him, was gone too.

"Sorcery!"

Someone shouted. No, it was Rem’s voice. He sounded frustrated.

"Which fucking bastard?"

Sorcery? What sorcery?

Enkrid crouched as he thought. Arrows and bolts flew overhead.

"Good job. Keep your head down."

A voice beside him. It was Ragna.

Ting! Thud!

Sounds of arrows above his head. His ominous feeling had become reality. Enkrid thought with his head down.

‘Sorcery.’

Why was there a sorcerer here?

Even among the Western Frontier tribes, sorcerers were rare. Why here?

The question was meaningless now. Enkrid dismissed the thought. Suddenly, a spearhead thrust toward him.

Thump.

The Heart of the Beast reacted. Boldness surfaced. Without it, he would have frozen and died. Enkrid instinctively twisted left and swung his sword upward.

Thwack!

He couldn’t cut the greased spear shaft with a clumsy slash. The shaft bounced away. A spearhead suddenly lunged from the fog. Enkrid gauged its position and tried to move forward.

Another spearhead came.

Thwack!

He barely blocked it again. As he did, he thought his stance was off, and his weight shift was messy. The only thing he did right was grip his sword tightly. He had forgotten all the things Ragna had nagged him about.

‘This is bad.’

He never expected to master it after one lesson. So, what should he do?

"Move back."

Ragna said. Enkrid moved the opposite way. Thanks to Jaxon, his hearing had sharpened. He couldn’t see, but he could hear.

"Argh!"

"Screech!"

"Die!"

"Damn it!"

Amid the screams and curses from all around, Enkrid moved.

"…Squad leader!"

Ragna’s startled shout came from behind him.

Then.

Thunk!

A spearhead pierced his neck.

‘Accurate.’

It was better than having his body pierced clumsily. Excruciating pain spread from his neck to his entire body.

Darkness began to close in.

"Crazy bastard."

The soldier who had speared Enkrid muttered. He had been startled when Enkrid suddenly lunged.

"Die."

The soldier kicked Enkrid away. The spearhead pulled out, causing a second wave of intense pain. Enkrid felt death approaching. A few more breaths, and darkness would envelop him.

He welcomed death.

What were excruciating pain and the terror of death, no matter how many times it happened?

‘Because of this.’

A new "today" had begun, where he could learn basics from Ragna. That thought filled him with joy.

"Gah."

Enkrid laughed through the blood. The enemy soldier recoiled, thinking he was facing a truly madman. Darkness came. When he opened his eyes, today began anew.

"Why do you go that far?"

Ragna asked. This time, Enkrid answered immediately, without scratching his forehead.

"Because I want to be good with a sword."

A different answer, but the goal was the same.

"Do you want to learn swordsmanship?"

Of course. Ragna offered again, and Enkrid accepted. The second day of basic training, the second "today" began. And he stood on the battlefield. The fog spread.

"Oh? Damn it!"

Rem cursed again. This time, Enkrid parried the spear shaft three times before letting it pierce his neck again. Unluckily, it hit at an angle. His neck skin tore, spilling blood on the ground.

‘Damn it.’

Bleeding out was too painful. Before he could think further, another enemy soldier thrust a spear at him. He was grateful.

Thunk.

He died again.

And the third "today" began.

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