WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 378: Repetition

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"How did she achieve movement that delicate?"

In his memory, Sinar swung her sword. Her footwork was as light as a butterfly. The Leaf Blade in her hand was light to match.

Even with its leaf shape and swollen middle, the blade still seemed to flutter.

Watching it move like it was dancing, it looked as if there was not an ounce of force in it.

But in a real clash, it was different. Every strike carried proper power. Enkrid knew that well, because he had crossed blades with her himself.

How did she do that?

To do something precise, you had to tense up. But to recreate that kind of movement, you had to relax.

He understood the method, but another question remained. Could a body really move like that?

'Is it a path I don't know?'

No. He already knew it. He had learned it, trained it, and rolled through it so many times it had sunk into his body.

"Do you think there is only one way to apply force? Without precision, the Isolation Technique means nothing."

Audin had said there were many kinds of muscles.

There were large muscles, and there were small muscles that controlled fine movement.

Sinar had her precision because she trained those muscles again and again.

Enkrid needed that too.

"If you sharpen your senses, you can feel it."

Jaxon had said that countless times as well. Using that as his base, Enkrid half-closed his eyes and began swinging the weapons in both hands.

He drew an imaginary line in the air, then swung exactly at that line. It did not work in one try. That was fine. Enkrid repeated it.

It was similar to drawing a circle on a tree and training to hit only that spot, but there was a clear difference in level between smashing a large marked circle and the drill he called Tip-to-Tip Meeting. The precision and delicacy were on a different tier.

Using Naurillia's military ranks as a comparison, it was the gap between the lowest soldier and one beyond the highest rank.

On top of that, his opponent's blade never stopped moving.

'Eisia never stays still.'

She shifted her feet little by little, twisted her body, and kept changing her blade's direction.

The answer was clear. He needed the precision to pluck a feather from a bird in flight.

That was why he needed tip-against-tip training. Enkrid sank so deep into it that he felt like he was swimming in a sea of concentration.

Then voices reached him.

"It is not a barbarian's place to step in! Go suck goat milk!"

The third training session of the day itself was not much different from usual, but the meeting with the Security Commissioner, the point where everything began, was completely different from before.

When Enkrid looked over, Rem was grinning and gripping his axe haft.

"Goaaat?"

Ah, too late to stop him now.

Thinking that, Enkrid halted the step he had been about to take.

In front of the commissioner, the South Gate Guard Captain desperately tried to hold things back. Out of loyalty, thoughtlessness, or confidence in his own skill, one soldier drew his sword and brought it down.

"You bastard!"

Shouting, he rushed in and swung for Rem's head.

Right before steel touched hair, Rem moved.

He kicked off the ground and hopped to the side.

The sword split empty air. Rem immediately spun his axe, changed direction, and swung.

Thud!

A crisp, lively sound rang out. It was not a slicing strike like a ray of light, but a blunt smash from the axe head.

The abdomen struck by the back side of the axe head caved in for an instant, then sprang back. It was not meant to kill, but it was nowhere near a gentle tap.

"Guek!"

The soldier flew through the air after taking the blow to the stomach.

'That hurt.'

Enkrid knew because he had taken plenty of hits himself. That was no soft mallet. If Audin's hammer was barely bearable, this could break bones and rupture organs if it landed badly.

The soldier flew off to one side and rolled across the ground.

Then he vomited. Tears and snot poured out with it. Blood was mixed in too.

After another roll, he gagged, rolled his eyes back, and passed out. He had only been hit in the stomach.

Rem snorted and muttered,

"Weak."

It was quiet, but it came from the man who had shut everyone's mouth with one blow. Quiet or not, everyone heard it.

The commissioner gaped in shock. Then he closed his mouth, ground his teeth, and shouted,

"...Treason!"

If this continued, Rem would start slaughtering people. Ragna and Jaxon behind him would fight with him, not stop him.

The moment the commissioner finished speaking, Enkrid moved. He stepped in to persuade them again.

A light kick off the ground. He lowered his body and drove forward. Closing the gap, he chopped the neck of the man blocking his way with the edge of his hand.

The man had been staring blankly at Rem, then heard "treason" and instinctively tightened his grip on his spear.

The veins standing out on the back of his hand were striking, but that same tension had frozen his body.

Even if he had not frozen, he lacked the skill to respond.

Crack!

The man hit in the neck made a choking sound and dropped. Before his body even hit the ground, Enkrid spun once, added centrifugal force, and slammed his palm down on the helmet of the soldier next to him.

Palm and helmet collided with a heavy pop.

"Uk!"

The soldier's knees gave out like octopus legs and he collapsed.

His brain had been rattled, so he would not recover his senses anytime soon.

They were exactly the two soldiers blocking the line between Enkrid and the commissioner.

After dropping them both, Enkrid grabbed the commissioner's ankle as he sat on horseback. The startled commissioner looked down at him.

Their eyes met, so Enkrid gave him a small smile and pulled.

Crunch!

"Aaaagh!"

The commissioner's opposite leg, still caught in the stirrup, snapped. It was what Dunbakel had done before, now shown by Enkrid's own hand.

Then Enkrid struck the commissioner's head, half-hanging over the stirrup, with his elbow and knocked him out.

Thud. Crack.

A neck bone shifted, but he was probably still alive.

All of it happened in the span of one or two breaths.

Hiiiiiing!

Only then did the horse panic and rear. Enkrid had already done everything he needed to do, so he stepped back twice and avoided its forelegs.

The squire standing a step behind the commissioner could only glare, half-drawn sword in hand.

Right beside him, the Security Captain had one hand on his sword and stopped.

"Why not just kill him?"

Rem muttered again from the side. Enkrid stared at the unconscious commissioner dangling from the horse, then frowned.

"What was the commissioner's name again?"

He had paid so little attention that he forgot.

"Polman Vertes."

The Security Captain answered while reading the room.

"If you are done, better leave."

Enkrid said that, and the squire opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it.

What could he even say in this situation?

Everyone stayed silent. The soldiers had nothing left to say. The Security Captain decided there was no reason to step in and get his own leg broken too.

A silence even heavier than when Rem sent a soldier flying settled over them.

"You seem worse than me. I should pass down the title of Noble Hunter to you."

"Keep it."

Rem tossed out nonsense, and Enkrid tossed it right back.

Clop-clop-clop!

Then came hoofbeats at full sprint, impossible to mistake, and a shout.

"Save me!"

It came from the depths of his guts, full of sincerity. Of course, it was a familiar voice, and exactly what Enkrid expected.

Marcus.

It was something that had already repeated twice.

Enkrid pushed straight through the soldiers blocking one side and climbed up onto the wall.

The soldiers did not even dare try to stop him. They moved aside instead.

Rem followed and climbed onto the wall too. Dunbakel hopped up beside them.

"Rem."

As Enkrid spoke, he watched Marcus being chased and looked behind him. He spotted a pursuer in unusual clothes.

"The Undying Madman. We missed him before, and he was messing around here. I am going to beat him down."

"Go."

Enkrid answered at once, and Rem launched off without looking back.

He kicked off the wall and showed airtime that barely looked human.

He leaped sideways as if flying, landed on another roof, then pulled out a throwing axe and shouted while dashing again.

"You bastard, try running this time too!"

There was no option like waiting in hiding to catch him later.

The opponent turned at once. Rem welcomed it.

Catching someone who charged you was too easy. He wanted to chase down a runner, catch him, and beat him down. It was pure hunting instinct.

"You crazy bastard."

Rem heard "crazy bastard" from the Undying Madman, shut his mouth, and kept running. Soon he crossed roofs and walls and hit the ground. He shot forward at terrifying speed, and the Undying Madman fled just as fast.

Both vanished from sight quickly.

On top of the wall, Enkrid turned only his body, raised one hand, and spoke.

"I am going to the royal palace. Who will go block Viscount Mernes's troops from entering in the meantime?"

He shortened what Squire Ropord had said before and pushed things forward.

Maybe what was meant to happen on a large scale always happened anyway.

Ropord's change of heart was similar.

What did the man sitting on that wall mean by those words?

Why was he himself standing here?

"Ragna, Dunbakel."

Seeing the shift in Squire Ropord's eyes, Enkrid called the two.

"Understood."

"Hnh, got it."

They answered, and just as Marcus began saying something impossible had happened in the royal palace, an assassin group appeared.

"Stab..."

Maybe there was honey spread on that wall, because they stood there again. The white-haired assassin with a monocle in the center had just started to speak.

Enkrid rushed him the instant he saw him.

What was the point of talking? There was none.

He was ahead in timing, and the skill gap was obvious. He charged, leaped onto the wall, and drew his sword down from above.

In that instant, as he struck, a short thought passed through his mind.

'Has my sword gotten more precise than before?'

No way to know.

He still could not feel any change in his body yet.

To the assassin, something suddenly flew in, and something dropped straight down.

He did not even try to dodge, and offered his head to the blade.

Thud, crunch!

The falling blade split his head vertically. The severed skull burst sideways, and blood and brain matter dripped down along the sword's path.

After killing one, Enkrid jumped back.

Thuk-thuk-thuk.

Three daggers and five darts flew into the spot where he had just been.

Enkrid dodged as if he had expected it, then spoke.

"I will tell you in advance. You stabbed me. So the contract was fulfilled. It hurt, yes, it hurt, right? That is what you ordered, right? I even have the scar here."

He lifted his left arm as he spoke.

With his forearm guard wrapped tightly, no scar was visible, of course.

"That crazy fucker."

Another assassin muttered.

"No creativity in that insult."

Enkrid replied casually. Getting under people's skin was something he was born good at.

"You!"

The man could only get angry.

Assassins were experts at hidden stabs.

When things went wrong, they cut, stabbed, and killed. How often did they need to provoke someone with words?

And they were rarely on the receiving end of that kind of taunt.

So this worked well.

Regardless of skill, it naturally drew every assassin's eyes to him.

A single sword strike and a few words. That was all it took.

At some point, Jaxon had already vanished. Even without being told, he would do what he needed to do.

The white-haired monocled assassin in the center ground his teeth and shouted,

"The information leaked! Respond, all of you!"

Enkrid had reacted too fast. In his eyes, it was so fast that no one could do it without advance knowledge.

And what was that nonsense he said after?

Stabbed? Where? Wait.

After a moment, he thought he understood.

He was talking about the contract.

They had ordered him killed, and he was claiming that being stabbed counted.

Then why was he asking for creative insults?

It was all nonsense.

From the start, he had come to fight.

He was one of the leaders of the Assassin Alliance too. He knew how to fight when it mattered.

Of course, all of this happened only because Enkrid had repeated today, but there was no way for him to know that.

Familiar movement patterns unfolded again. Enkrid was reminded how many years of training these assassins had.

Did they not start fights in almost the same form no matter the situation?

The throwers threw. The ones who had to peel off peeled off. The poison users used poison.

In that gap, Jaxon moved a little differently in each of these three todays.

At first he had rampaged with a longsword. This time, before anyone noticed, he was already running along the wall with stilettos in both hands.

Blood sprayed from the pointed blades.

He had already stabbed four assassins to death.

Enkrid found that oddly fascinating.

The enemy's reactions were the same, so why was Jaxon different every time?

'Is he matching my movements?'

It was only instinct, but he felt that had to be right.

"Hit that side first!"

This shout came from somewhere else, not the white-haired man. It was aimed at Jaxon.

That reaction came because Jaxon was that dangerous.

Watching it, Enkrid slipped out and called Odd-Eye.

"Give me a ride."

As he ran toward the outside of the mansion, Odd-Eye came up beside him.

Marcus was mounted at the mansion entrance.

That was because Enkrid had motioned for him not to dismount. Marcus then guided his horse over beside him.

This was the third today.

Enkrid judged this was better than hiding Marcus away somewhere.

Most of his decisions were similar to the first today, but nothing could be perfect.

From the beginning, he always made the best call he could, staking everything on today even while repeating it.

'Not everything can be perfect.'

He knew. So he only had to accept it.

"Where will you hide?"

"I can take care of myself. My lord is tied down in the royal palace. Looks like the knight order has stepped in."

"Yeah, I know."

"...What?"

Dududududu.

After that, Marcus's words were drowned out by accelerating hooves.

Marcus also peeled away to the side quickly.

He clearly meant to hide on his own.

During a brief pause, he even tore his shirt and tightly bound his wounded arm.

It was not a major injury that needed immediate treatment.

Enkrid kept riding along the outer road toward the royal palace, clearing obstacles as he went.

"Whoa."

He even caught a glimpse of a stunned soldier's face before racing past.

When Odd-Eye stopped, Enkrid matched the motion and launched himself sideways, almost like flying off. Even Odd-Eye looked surprised.

As if asking, you can do that too?

"Thanks."

Enkrid gave a rough reply and strode into the royal palace.

On the way, an old nemesis stepped out as if to greet him.

"You..."

Smack!

Before he could finish, Enkrid burst forward with a moment of Will and took his head off with Silver.

The severed head slammed into the neat white wall by the palace garden.

With a wet thud, blood splattered across the wall.

Before the bullshit-spouting instructor and his men could react, Enkrid plunged through them.

Still like a lone wolf, he stabbed and cut down the pack that had acted like dogs.

After speaking with the maid, he kept his running speed and went deeper inside, where he met the orange-haired wall.

"Yeah, that is as far as you go. Let us start now."

Enkrid said it while running.

Before Eisia could say anything, he aimed his blade.

Sword-Tip Aim.

Enkrid brought his sword down toward that tip.

The start and end of that fight were not much different from before. He still was not at a level where he could surpass Eisia.

The only difference was that the man he saw on the first day never appeared again.

Instead, once Eisia defeated Enkrid, she turned immediately.

"I have something to check."

She turned and left, then never came back. Darkness followed.

After that, repetition, and repetition again.

Enkrid kept doing the same thing.

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