WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 363: That’s a Stretch.

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"Go on with what you were doing."

The marquis said it, sat down, and two guards stood behind him like statues.

The murderous pressure only lasted a moment. The two guards neither smiled nor showed any displeasure.

They were expressionless, like men simply doing the job in front of them.

Ragna thought their posture was quite good.

Not rigid, not arrogant. They looked like the type who would use exactly as much force as needed when the moment came.

That stood out to him.

If Ragna read posture, Rem read momentum.

That vicious air came from being in a dangerous place, not from offense.

That was how it looked.

So Rem judged there would be no fight with the guards. Next came the marquis. He looked like an old man with nothing better to do.

Don’t you have anything to do?

He did not say it out loud.

The man had come to see Enkrid, so this was not Rem’s place to step in.

Rem found himself amused by the fact that he thought he did not need to step forward.

Is this right?

Was it suddenly awkward? Not really. It just felt so natural that thinking about it made it seem strange.

Respect him because he is Enkrid’s guest?

At some point, Rem had realized he was following Enkrid.

It did not bother him.

He had started following him naturally, before he even noticed.

Esther sensed magical energy from their side, but judged there was no mage among them.

A relic.

A mage’s greed and curiosity stirred, but she easily pushed both down.

If she acted on her own, Enkrid would be the one put in a difficult spot.

Thud.

Right beside her, Enkrid slammed his axe-spear down with force.

Without even answering the marquis, he did as told and kept training.

"If you focus on balance and end up with no power in the strike, what’s the point?"

Rem took a step back and tossed out advice. The axe at his waist swung and tapped his thigh. One of the guards glanced over, but since they only traded looks and said nothing, it never turned into a real standoff.

Rem focused entirely on Enkrid.

"Then?"

"Foot."

He meant Enkrid should move his left foot forward and shift his center of gravity further.

Then I’ll pitch forward.

Where did you sell off Heart of Superhuman Strength?

Rem did not say it out loud, but if Enkrid asked why one more time, that was what would come out.

That short exchange gave Enkrid a quick realization.

If someone has strength beyond human limits, they can build attacks around it.

Strength beyond the limit. Overwhelming power.

Thinking only he could do that was arrogance. He had to assume his opponents could do it too.

Rem was teaching a technique called Giant-Splitting.

The name was Giant-Splitting, but in practice it was a method for dealing with weapons swung with giant-level strength.

It was Rem’s original technique and training method.

And he had made it recently.

Turning unique experience into technique.

Had Enkrid not already shown that right in front of him?

The Captured Sword technique had been enjoyable to watch on its own.

Rem did the same thing.

He laid experience as a base, gave concrete form to what he gained from it,

then set clear stages and order so that the finished result settled into the body through repetition.

He could experiment through Enkrid. Rem also learned as he taught, and pushed it further.

Enkrid knew what Rem was doing too.

Once again, he felt that even this bastard with a broken head was a genius. It changed nothing. It was simply true.

Learning and mastering things was too exciting to care whether this guy was a genius or not.

So he did what he always did: learn in earnest, train, repeat.

Rem simply enjoyed watching that.

"Harder."

Rem said it, and Enkrid moved exactly as told.

If he wanted to take a giant’s attack, he first had to know what a giant could do.

Strength beyond the limit was called superhuman strength.

What could someone with that strength do?

The marquis found it fascinating that these people were training this seriously with him sitting right there.

Jaxon watched the marquis in silence.

No killing intent, no pressure, no trace. He just watched.

Jaxon thought there was a high chance the leader of the Black Blades was one of the nobles.

But not someone like the Marquis of Okto.

If he held that level of status, would the Black Blades’ leader not have stepped out openly by now?

Aside from Count Molsen, he was effectively one of the most powerful figures in and around the royal palace.

Jaxon knew that because he had already finished investigating the palace’s internal power struggle.

Not him.

He had the bearing that only a man born and raised as a noble could have.

The marquis could not be the Black Blades’ leader.

The Black Blades’ head had entered the palace as a bandit leader. A man like that could not fully erase his old habits.

While Jaxon observed the marquis, one of the guards looked at him.

He caught it and looked back even though Jaxon had not leaked even a trace?

That side had its own method. Not the same kind as his. Still, that made sense. They would need someone that skilled to survive assassination threats.

Right now, everyone with any standing in the capital was under threat of assassination.

Will?

He had not trained sensory techniques, and he gave off no scent of Jaxon’s kind. If he still caught Jaxon’s gaze, then it had to be Will.

Jaxon had ways to hide himself further, but it was pointless right now.

He withdrew his gaze.

A strange tension lingered despite never becoming a direct standoff, and then the marquis spoke.

"You will not even offer me a cup of tea, Baronet Gardner?"

"Ah? Yes, of course."

Caught in the middle, Andrew sweated as he had tea and snacks prepared.

There were only a handful of servants in the mansion to begin with.

One maid recognized the Marquis of Okto and approached with trembling hands.

To a young maid, the high noble before her was nothing like Andrew.

Andrew could hurt her too if things turned bad, but he was her master, whom she saw every day.

She was used to him, and she knew he was not that kind of person.

But the man seated there now was a great noble.

Literally, with a gesture or a word, he could throw her life and her family into ruin.

If he outranked Andrew, it also meant her own master could not protect her.

She did not fully understand all of that, but instinctively, the maid was terrified.

In the end, her shaking hands spilled the tea. The tea that should have gone into the cup trickled off to the side.

It ran across the table and dripped onto the marquis’s knees.

The marquis calmly stood and moved to the next chair.

The maid could not even speak. Her face went pale, her body shook, and she dropped to her knees.

"F-for-forgive me."

Enkrid had just finished training.

"Your hands are still unsteady."

The marquis said it. Mack brought a handkerchief on the maid’s behalf, but one of the guards was faster.

He immediately pulled a clean handkerchief from his coat and wiped the moisture from the marquis’s knees.

Enkrid’s gaze reached the marquis. Without caring about anyone else’s eyes on him, the marquis spoke.

"Baronet Gardner."

"Yes."

"You would do well to pay attention to your maid’s training."

"...Yes."

Mack cleaned up the table. The maid kept trembling the whole time. Andrew sent her inside.

Her legs shook as she headed into the mansion. Somehow, she managed not to collapse.

After that, Andrew poured tea himself, and the marquis nodded.

He showed neither kindness nor harsh scolding.

The marquis lifted his cup and took a sip, and Kin Baisar quietly sat in the seat beside him.

"I can get a cup too, yes?"

Kin said.

"May I trouble you for one as well?"

The Marquis of Okto added to Kin Baisar’s request. There was no refusing.

"Of course."

Andrew nodded. Meanwhile, Enkrid walked over and sat across the table.

The small commotion ended.

Enkrid did not put on elaborate manners, but he was not rude either.

He simply sat. A plain attitude. The marquis watched him and raised the cup to his lips.

Steam curled up from the tea and dampened his lips.

"What do you think would have happened if I had comforted that maid just now?"

The marquis asked while holding his cup. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not.

Enkrid found it hard to read what kind of person the marquis was.

He had met all sorts of people, but this kind was difficult.

If Crang was like a sun shining on its own, the marquis was like a waterway.

A current with no knowing where it would flow or how it would change.

"One of two things. She would feel relieved, or uneasy."

Enkrid wiped sweat with his forearm, left his hand on the table, and answered.

"Oh? Why uneasy?"

"Because she might think you comforted her in public, then might hurt her later."

"So that maid only sees the world as dark?"

"Or if she tells someone about this later, someone might say this: You spilled tea and he comforted you instead? Be careful. Something like that."

Enkrid summoned an imaginary older sister the maid might know. The imitation was poor, but it got the point across.

How many old nobles said it was fine in public, then preyed on maids in private?

So rather than comfort her, it was better to act a little displeased.

Once this passed, the maid would actually feel relieved.

She would think she had paid for her mistake.

The marquis did not get angry, but he did fault her unsteady hands.

That was all.

"You are quite thoughtful."

"I often hear I’m not very noble-like."

"...Is that so."

Kin Baisar almost spat out her tea at that line. Instead, she only tightened her grip on the cup.

What was this man saying, when people called him a noble among nobles?

To call him not noble-like here was almost wordplay.

Could someone who flared up over one maid’s mistake be called a noble?

"Why did you come here?"

"Why do you ask?"

A question in return, to a marquis no less.

Kin Baisar’s heart pounded. Her gaze naturally turned to Enkrid.

"I want to know what kind of person you are. Can you answer?"

What would he say?

Kin knew how Enkrid had come here.

She could also roughly guess why.

His answer should have been obvious.

He could say he came to help someone’s royal path, or because he accepted a request.

Even if he said he came because the whole situation looked interesting and he wanted to lend a hand, Kin would have nodded.

He might answer like that.

If it was Enkrid, that would not be surprising.

But would the marquis like that answer?

Probably not.

The marquis looked neither expectant nor pleased. He was simply calm. That calmness made the pressure heavier.

Enkrid opened his mouth.

"I came for a world where children do not appear on battlefields."

At that unexpected answer, everyone, including Kin, fell silent.

Enkrid continued in an ordinary tone, almost as if reciting.

It was a quiet declaration, a public vow, a statement of will.

"I came to reduce Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts. I came to protect those who know how to cherish their own people. I came to punish those who oppress others by force. I came because I want to protect the weak and guard the dreams of those who still have dreams."

Empty words. Lofty words. Words that could be dismissed as talk.

No, they had meaning. They were words filled with conviction. Filled with sincerity. Not words from the mouth, but from the chest.

For a moment, Kin, the marquis, the guards, and even Rem, Dunbakel, and Andrew watching nearby felt swept into the storm that was Enkrid.

Words have no power.

Anyone can speak.

No, words do have power.

Because these words carried will and conviction.

While no one spoke, the marquis set his teacup down with a tap and said,

"You said your dream was to be a knight?"

His dream could not have spread that far, so the marquis must have had sharp ears.

Enkrid nodded.

"Yes."

"I will cheer you on."

"Yes."

The marquis stood. Why had he come here?

Surely not just to confirm Enkrid’s dream and leave?

Kin was flustered. But as a beauty who had moved men’s hearts for years, she kept her expression controlled.

The marquis rose, ended the conversation sooner than expected, and turned away.

He took a few steps as if leaving, then turned back before even five.

"Ah, but if a man says he will protect the weak and become a knight, does he just watch as people die in the capital? Something happens every night. Or do you only move when there is a request?"

The marquis’s tone and movement were rather awkward.

He acted as if the thought had just occurred to him, but his words and behavior were calculated from the start. He made that obvious on purpose.

So you only use that chivalry, that conviction, when there is Krona or some reward.

That was how naked the marquis’s words sounded to Enkrid.

That’s a stretch.

What happened in the capital was the watch’s jurisdiction.

Enkrid belonged to the Border Guard standing army, so causing trouble here would put him in a position to be reprimanded.

Should he accept this forced push?

Enkrid looked into the marquis’s eyes.

A faint smile appeared there.

Ah.

A provocation. It was a provocation. He felt it clearly.

Can you do it? You do not have to.

You know it does not have to be you.

But is that really your chivalry?

What was your dream again? A knight? Kniiiight?

You are not dodging this because you do not think you can solve it, are you?

Those words brushed past his ears in an instant. The marquis had not actually said any of them, but Enkrid heard them anyway.

A high noble wrapped in dignity would never say it that way in public, but it felt as if he had heard every word. Enkrid had to take the bait.

Because this was how he proved himself.

Because if his words were to carry sincerity, action had to support them.

If words ran ahead alone, no one would follow. No one would stand behind him.

"I will start tonight. I’ll look into it and solve it."

"I leave it to you."

Their eyes met, and the marquis smiled. The corners of his eyes softened. Enkrid smiled back.

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