WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 365: Only a Point Was Visible

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This was another reason Enkrid had come to the capital.

"I might get to clash with the Masked Knights, right?"

The threat of Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts had not only advanced cooking and construction.

It had also drawn the strong inside the walls.

That was necessary for survival, and for defense.

Among all those who gathered and kept gathering, knights stood at the top, so the capital's knight orders were symbols of military might.

When people divided standards into city-class, nation-class, and continent-class, where had that begun?

Where had the term "squire-class" come from?

All of it was measured against knight orders.

This was one of those cases.

The Marquis had investigated Enkrid. He had roughly figured out the man's tastes.

What did a man like Enkrid value more than krona, women, rank, or power?

If you dug into a man's past, knew the road he had walked, and understood what drove him, you could know that man.

The Marquis had done exactly that.

"He said I could just tell you I'm a gift. What does that even mean?"

Eisia said that as she stepped into the estate, and behind her, Enkrid could almost see the Marquis smiling.

Eisia stood at one side of the training ground, sword at her waist, lightly equipped.

Slippery snake.

Had Andrew once said he was a man who swallowed dozens of snakes and ended up with a hydra's guts?

That description fit him perfectly.

A man nobody could read.

Was he on the Queen's side, Crang's side, Count Molsen's side, that bastard Viscount Mernes's side, or was he planning to become a new faction himself?

No one knew.

He simply remained in the capital as the Marquis of Okto.

A great noble so powerful that even the Queen could not treat him carelessly.

At present, the kingdom had no Grand Duke and no rank above duke, so he was one of the two men splitting state power.

Would a marquis like that stand with Crang?

If a new Grand Duke appeared when none had existed before, it would affect his own power as well.

That was why Enkrid had heard Marquis Baisar did not welcome Crang either.

Marcus had said it himself.

And yet, even though anyone could see Enkrid was on Crang's side, the Marquis had come in person, spoken to him, and asked him to handle work.

No one could tell what that man was thinking or what he would do next.

Still, none of that mattered right now.

"You don't need to worry about that."

Enkrid was glad. One of the people he had wanted to meet and talk into a match stood right in front of him.

"Talk casually."

Eisia nodded and spoke. She looked the same as before. Gentle face, short hair.

She brushed up her orange hair with one hand and stared at Enkrid.

It was shocking, and absurd.

From her perspective, none of this made sense.

Just seeing him standing in front of her felt strange.

Back at Border Guard, she had done something like a skill test at Marcus's request.

She still remembered clearly how this guy, Enkrid, had nearly fainted under pressure.

Ruagarne did say he was a little different now.

Eisia trusted her own instincts more.

In a way, it was natural to trust your own experience over other people's words. She was someone striving to become a knight, someone who had to carry conviction on her own path.

From her perspective, Enkrid had been the kind of talent who would be lucky to reach squire level.

No, even that had been generous. At the time, she had judged he could not grow past that point.

Yet this man named Enkrid was here now. He had built a reputation and stood proudly, meeting her gaze.

How did you do it?

What had he done to stack up achievements like that?

Something close to competitive fire rose in her. She wanted to measure his skill herself.

She had come here for work, but the moment she saw him, she knew.

She had not joined a knight order and risen to squire for nothing.

If you were not obsessed with swordsmanship, or with whatever weapon suited you, and with body techniques, combat, and fighting itself, becoming a squire was hard.

Talent had to be matched by desire.

Enkrid looked into Eisia's eyes, stopped what he was doing, and faced her.

"Do that again."

He had told her to speak casually, so she did. Direct and brisk. Eisia liked that.

"What?"
she asked.

"The pressure."

"You'll foam at the mouth, kid."

"Do it."

This time, he felt nothing behind him. Back then, when she had used pressure, hadn't a bunch of his men been glaring together?

Andrew Gardner did not even register to her. The only ones who concerned her were that man's subordinates she had seen before, but they were not here either.

Eisia raised her pressure. She pivoted, turned her stance sideways, and made as if to place her hand on her sword grip. Pressure was a willpower-based technique that crushed the opponent's will.

Kneel, or die.

Enkrid felt killing intent mixed into that pressure.

An imaginary blade flew at him. Enkrid knew it was not real. The Enkrid from the past who shut his eyes at a sword no longer existed, and neither did the Enkrid who got crushed by pressure.

Refusal rose and pushed the pressure back.

Enkrid took a step toward Eisia.

Her pupils widened. She had heard the rumors, but only after seeing it herself did she accept it.

He was the real thing.

Ruagarne had been right. The judgment built from experience had missed.

He was not forcing his body through it like before. He had answered with Will.

"Spar?"
Enkrid asked.

"Good!"
Eisia shouted.

Ching!

The thin, straight rapier at her waist flashed out.

Eisia held the blade vertical in front of her face and said,

"You don't think pressure is my only specialty, do you?"

"If losing isn't your hobby, you'd better do this properly."

Enkrid returned the line. A subtle provocation.

Eisia grinned. Her face said, I need to fix your attitude, punk.

Enkrid liked that change in expression.

While she held her drawn blade upright, Enkrid adjusted his sword belt and narrowed the draw angle at his grip.

At the same time, he shifted his left foot and let his arm hang naturally. Preparation right before a fight.

A spar the moment she arrived.

Work talk and everything else could wait. None of that mattered.

Eisia had gone serious from the start.

There was no need for either of them to test the waters clumsily.

They were both squires. They had that level of strength.

You could tell just from him breaking through pressure.

"I don't know how many Wills you use, but look forward to this. It'll be fun."

As Eisia said that, she lowered the vertical blade and aimed it forward.

Enkrid measured distance on reflex.

They were five steps apart, but with her sword drawn and pointed forward, the tip felt right in front of his nose.

Enkrid stepped sideways and changed position. He moved to a spot with the sun at his back. Eisia did not step. She used her left foot as an axis, turned, and moved only the sword tip.

The tip still blocked Enkrid's view.

At first Enkrid watched Eisia. Then he watched the shoulder at the center of her body.

Focus Point activated on its own.

She was a real squire from an actual knight order.

Just because he had once received a knight's strike did not mean he could overwhelm her.

He drew boldness from Heart of the Beast.

He held her in view with Focus Point.

He sharpened his sensory techniques and prepared.

He was fully ready to strike first at any moment.

Yet as Enkrid watched her shoulder, his field of view narrowed more and more.

His sight, which had taken in her whole body, tightened to shoulder and hand, then to the rapier and the hand holding it.

After that he saw only the rapier's blade. A little later, his gaze cinched down to the rapier's tip.

In the end, he saw only a point. But that point felt large enough to fill everything in front of him.

He understood it in his head. She had only raised her sword and aimed forward.

But still.

I can't read the distance.

It had clearly been five steps, but distance itself vanished.

Only the sword tip remained, a single point.

Only that point remained.

There was no pressure. No oppression. Naturally, Refusal did not activate.

He could only see the sword tip.

Enkrid could not even try to find an opening. How could he do anything when all he could see was a point?

The deeper his concentration became, the larger that point she presented grew.

What is he doing?

To Andrew, watching from the side, it was baffling.

He told her to try something, took one step forward, then suddenly asked to spar.

Then they drew swords, aimed, and froze.

Enkrid had shifted his feet a few times as if to set position and gauge distance, but now both of them were still.

Are they not fighting?

He had expected to watch a high-level spar, but a lot of time had already passed.

Should I at least say something?

"Leave it."

Right as he thought that, Rem appeared from nowhere, draped an arm over his shoulder from behind, and spoke.

Andrew's body jerked still as his shoulder and neck were locked.

"If you mess this up right now, that blade flies into you."

Rem said that and pulled him back. Andrew quietly followed.

Rem was not alone.

Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbakel had come out too.

All three fixed their eyes on the center of the training ground.

Sweat started running down Enkrid's forehead.

Eisia was not calm either.

Her opponent's momentum was violent and rough. If she showed even a tiny gap, he was like a volcano ready to erupt in an instant.

If that erupted, she would not be able to keep this advantage.

Leonessis had divided swordsmanship into five types: Correct and Precise Sword, Heavy and Fierce Sword, Illusionary Sword, Quick Sword, and Soft and Flowing Sword, then organized their strengths and weaknesses into a cycle where each checked another.

Correct and Precise Sword was weak to Illusionary Sword.

Correct and Precise Sword swung clean and straight to trap the opponent inside its intent, so it was weak to deception.

Illusionary Sword was weak to Heavy and Fierce Sword.

Illusionary Sword deceived and tricked, so it was weak to straightforward force. A stubborn, weighty single strike was Heavy and Fierce Sword's specialty.

Heavy and Fierce Sword got caught by Soft and Flowing Sword.

Because it was straightforward, it was carried by flow and pushed off line.

Then Soft and Flowing Sword had trouble against Quick Sword.

Speed that struck before deflection gave no chance to deflect at all.

Finally, Quick Sword was vulnerable to Correct and Precise Sword.

Once trapped inside prediction, the power of speed was cut in half, so it was natural for Correct and Precise Sword to catch it.

A correct and precise sword was weak to an illusionary sword.

An illusionary sword was weak to a heavy and fierce sword.

A heavy and fierce sword was weak to a soft and flowing sword.

A soft and flowing sword was weak to a fast sword.

A fast sword was weak to a correct and precise sword.

Of course, that did not mean Quick Sword always beat Correct and Precise Sword, or that Correct and Precise Sword was guaranteed to lose to Illusionary Sword.

Everything changed with training level, so a fight's result was never simple.

You could die even against someone far weaker than you.

An old proverb.

A sword had no eyes. If a blind sword hit you, anyone died. Death was fair to everyone.

To escape that fairness, humans tried to break past their limits.

That was Will. Willpower. The culmination of that willpower was the knight.

Eisia's sword was Illusionary Sword.

A technique that used the opponent's concentration against them and fed them a counter.

The moment Rem, Jaxon, and Ragna saw Eisia's technique, each of them thought of ways to break it.

They were geniuses, so that was natural.

Of course, if they fought her directly, Eisia would add irregular moves, so no one could know the direction of the fight until they actually crossed blades.

Dunbakel could not read the whole technique at a glance, but she knew what she would do.

Hit before she draws.

Enkrid did not grasp Eisia's technique at one glance. Still, he had a tower built layer by layer, and a road made step by step.

That had become his swordsmanship, entirely his own.

So what if he saw a point, or a line?

If he could not break through, then he would break it here.

The moment he judged time was not on his side, Enkrid moved his hand.

Shik!

The sound of the draw was strange. He had drawn too fast and too straight. A draw cut with minimal friction.

It was the result of repeated training.

It was the Will of the instant. The blade he drew was Spark.

Spark became a white streak and struck the point.

Clang!

Metal rang on metal. The moment something touched her sword tip, Eisia detonated the fully coiled muscles in her body.

Whoosh!

Before her sword could even be seen as knocked away, it flew in at twice that speed and sliced at Enkrid's neck.

Blood should have burst out at once, but it did not.

Enkrid had barely dodged. He snapped his head back.

Eisia stopped there. Any farther and this would have become a killing match.

For a first spar, this was already vicious.

Vicious enough that it barely felt right to call it a spar.

Even inside knight orders, people got angry if a live-blade match went this far.

Are you trying to kill each other?

But then.

"One more time?"

Enkrid's eyes sparkled. A faint smile rose on his face. He looked thrilled to death.

Had he not just barely escaped death? Then why that expression?

No matter how bold someone was, no matter how much they loved fighting, when you nearly died, some negative emotion usually appeared.

Yet in Enkrid, there was not even an ant-speck of resentment, complaint, dissatisfaction, or any other negative feeling.

"Huh?"

For Eisia, this was a first. The first time she had seen this kind of person.

"If you're tired, we can rest a little first."

Enkrid said that, and voices came from behind too.

"There he goes again."

"It's flaring up."

"Hm."

That order was Rem, then Ragna, then Jaxon.

Dunbakel kept her mouth shut. She had no confidence she could block the sword Eisia had just shown.

Raw speed was not what scared her.

If it was only speed, Enkrid's sword was even fiercer.

So no, speed had not shocked her. What terrified her was how the timing was stolen.

My breathing gets cut.

She knew because she had watched in full focus without realizing it.

Eisia's sword entered the gap between breaths where no dodge was possible.

If it had been her, her neck would have been cut.

Of course, if someone held a sword out like that from the start, she would not have fought like Enkrid anyway.

She would have run first.

She would have opened distance and started again.

Could I win if I did that?

Probably not. Dunbakel disliked that thought and snorted.

"You seem kind of strange."

Eisia finally said it to Enkrid.

"You're smiling right now too."

Enkrid answered.

He was right.

Eisia too was feeling fun and exhilaration, a rare thing for her.

She had not had this much fun in years.

"No breakfast? I came without eating anything."

Eisia said.

"Andrew?"

Enkrid called the estate owner. Andrew nodded.

These people never skipped meals, so meal prep should have been ready.

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