WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 38: The Flags Flutter, and the Soldiers Dance with Swords (1)

“Do I really have to learn the sword all over again?”

Ragna had made a sharp remark. It implied that Enkrid's body wasn’t following properly, and it was true. Enkrid wasn’t born with talent. He lived by adding stubborn effort to his dull body.

However, he had met countless instructors, learned swordsmanship, and spent time contemplating alone. His thinking was flexible, and his adaptability was excellent. Learning was difficult at first, but once he mastered it, entering real combat was different. He had a natural talent for it. Flexibility and adaptability were Enkrid’s talents.

'Use anything as the situation demands, as needed.'

By the standards of the Kingdom of Naurillia, he was at least intermediate. In the mercenary world, he was also intermediate. Wherever he went, his skill level was about average; that was Enkrid's current position.

But regardless of his skill, his combat power in actual battle was exceptional. Having lived with meager talent, Enkrid knew how to make full use of what he had.

A soldier’s spear flew towards him. His keen ears heard the whoosh of the piercing air.

It wasn’t as precise as what he saw with his eyes, but he grasped the direction. He envisioned the enemy’s movement in his mind.

‘Side-stepping step.’

Enkrid stepped. The Heart of the Beast granted him boldness. He put strength in his left heel and pulled his right foot back, turning his body. Due that move, the spearhead whizzed past his eyes. Even though the spearhead suddenly appeared out of the fog, Enkrid wasn’t flustered.

There was no need to be. It was a spear that had already stabbed him to death dozens of times. He had dodged the first thrust over two hundred times. Instead of drawing his sword, Enkrid grabbed the middle of the spear shaft and pulled. With a yank, the enemy soldier was pulled forward and opened his mouth in surprise.

“What?”

The soldier’s head emerged from the fog, and Enkrid grabbed and twisted it.

Crunch.

The soldier’s neck broke. A broken neck is fatal. The enemy soldier collapsed, and Enkrid took the dead soldier’s spear. He recalled the enemy’s formation in his mind before the fog spread. They were all clustered together.

‘No matter where I throw, I’ll hit someone.’

He stamped the ground with his left foot and threw with all his might. The spear flew through the air and struck something with a thunk.

“Ack!”

A death cry was heard.

“What the hell?”

“Damn it!”

The enemy’s voices of confusion followed. Listening carefully, Enkrid bent low and ran forward. Even if someone could see through the fog, it would be difficult to spot someone charging in from below.

Thud, thud, thud!

Bolts and arrows flew overhead.

“Argh!”

“Ugh!”

“Shit, arrows!”

The screams and curses of his allies erupted from behind. His hair stood on end, but it was fine. He had done this countless times before. The real problem was the lack of tension. Enkrid closed the distance and drew his longsword. His ears gauged the distance accurately.

Swish!

He drew his sword and held it with both hands, swinging it horizontally in an upper slash. Originally, an upper horizontal slash is a technique to block the opponent’s sword with the guard and cut with the back edge. Enkrid modified it as he pleased. The stance was similar.

He held the sword horizontally above his head and changed his grip. It was a thumb grip with the thumb up. In that stance, he drew a circle with the sword. Because of his low posture, the upper horizontal slash became a lower horizontal slash. It was a ridiculous stance, so there wasn’t much force behind the sword.

But it was an unexpected strike. The enemy didn’t react.

Whoosh!

Thud! Thud!

He felt resistance as the blade cut through.

“Argh!”

“What the hell!”

“The ground!”

‘Oh, they spotted me quickly.’

Emerging from the fog and rising up, Enkrid saw the enemy soldiers. Though his field of vision was limited to the range of his sword, it was better than nothing. He saw the enemy and their weapons and his own sword. The situation was different from before.

Three enemies had deep cuts on their shins. They were all armed with crossbows. One of them gritted his teeth and aimed his crossbow.

Enkrid sidestepped. He stepped diagonally forward with his left foot, followed by his right. In an instant, his position changed.

The bolt flew through the space where he had been. Enkrid didn’t just dodge the quarrel. He attempted a vertical slash simultaneously. The heavy longsword fell from above.

The enemy soldier with the crossbow instinctively drew a shortsword, trying to block by crossing it with the longsword.

Enkrid crushed it with force.

Clang! Crack!

Unable to withstand the force, the shortsword’s opposite edge pressed against the leather helmet and dug into the soldier’s head. It wasn’t a cut but a crushing blow.

Crunch.

With a spurt of blood, the soldier with the crushed head fell backward. Blood flowed through the indent in the leather helmet, creating a red curtain in front of the soldier’s face.

“Ugh, ugh.”

The soldier couldn’t speak and fell on his butt, his eyes growing dim. Enkrid retrieved his sword, took a step back, and turned. He quickly moved a step sideways. A spear flew into the spot where he had been standing. The spearhead grazed his left side, tearing his cloth armor slightly. That was all.

After dodging, he thrust his sword. Not quickly, but slowly. The soldier who swung the spear reflexively pulled back and blocked with the spear shaft.

Thunk.

The sword and the spear shaft met. The sword began to slide down the shaft. Advancing, he followed with a bind and a cutting motion.

Scrrr!

The spear shaft grated under the sword.

Thud!

The sword’s final destination was the soldier’s chest. The blade had slid down the shaft and tore into the soldier’s chest. Flesh was ripped, and bones were shattered. When he withdrew the sword, blood spurted out.

The blood splattered on Enkrid’s chest. He slightly bent his knees as he retrieved the sword and stood up. With a snap, he straightened his knees and stood tall.

All he had learned so far were the basics. It had been a time to break bad habits and build anew. To be fair, he had only just reached his previous level.

But now, having trained the basics, he was vastly different. It was like attaching wings to a lion.

Enkrid's flexible thinking yielded results beyond his skill. Blood-soaked, his sword moved among the remaining soldiers. Enkrid silently danced with his sword.

There were six flag units.

The commander of the Duchy of Azpen thought.

‘Even if they notice it’s sorcery, they won’t know which of the six flags to destroy.’

Victory was assured. It was time to consider what kind of victory to claim.

“Cut off their retreat.”

The Gray Hound unit, acting as an independent force, moved. It was behind the Kingdom of Naurillia's troops. If the startled troops tried to retreat, they would encounter the Gray Hound unit. The commander issued orders and reviewed his plan for errors.

There were none.

General Frog had come to ensure this operation wouldn’t fail. Otherwise, a general wouldn’t have come to this battlefield.

The commander gave another order.

“Kill them all.”

This battle would change the positions of Azpen and Naurillia. As his orders were issued, Enkrid was dancing with his sword in the first flag unit.

“Damn it!”

The battalion commander of Naurillia thought he was having a nightmare.

‘We were caught off guard.’

If the enemy had prepared something, so had they. But if they lost their troops here, all preparations would be for naught.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Shouts to retreat echoed everywhere. The battalion commander wasn’t composed.

“Ack!”

Bolts flew at the retreating allies.

‘Damn crossbow units!’

The battalion commander felt a chill. He marveled at how they had hidden so many crossbows.

Where? The scout reports had already answered that.

‘The tall grass!’

Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about this. The battalion commander’s mind sought escape from reality.

“Get a grip! Regroup!”

Two competent company commanders tried to reorganize their units, but the enemy’s skill was exceptional.

The unit retreating backward was the Gray Hound unit. The independent company that the Azpen army was proud of. The battalion commander realized they were trapped. He desperately tried to regain his composure.

“It’s the Fog of Annihilation! Azpen's sorcerers have cast it!”

Those bastards.

“How do we dispel the fog?”

Few of his officers had an answer.

“Bring me someone who knows!”

He couldn’t see ahead, and enemies were pounding his troops from front and rear. At this rate, they could be annihilated. No, they would be annihilated without a doubt.

Soon, an officer brought an answer.

“We must destroy the sorcery medium!”

The medium? The flagpoles.

“Charge toward the flagpoles!”

The battalion commander shouted.

“...We don’t know where the flagpoles are.”

An officer uttered in despair. The enemy troops had rotated positions like clockwork. They kept moving positions like clockwork. They kept moving in circles, making it impossible to pinpoint their location.

The battalion commander couldn't erase the thought of annihilation from his mind. While he was groaning in frustration, the elf company commander of the fourth company realized the enemy wouldn’t let them retreat so easily.

Her prediction was correct. And it wasn’t a good thing.

‘Without a turnaround, we’ll all die.’

She thought the battlefield needed a new wind, but that wind didn’t blow. The battle ended in a crushing defeat. The elf company commander narrowly survived, evading death.

As she fled, the fog lifted. It was annihilation. Less than fifty of their allies survived.

Clang!

Enkrid fought well. He fought exceptionally well and was satisfied. Although his allies were nearly wiped out, he alone had taken down about twenty enemy soldiers. Blood flowed from his hand that gripped the sword. It was because his forearm had been slashed in the recent battle.

‘I’m losing strength.’

He had only spent time training in the basics so far. Ragna had said not to spar until he was complete— until he had gotten rid of his bad habits.

And then he immediately added.

“This isn’t something you can say on the battlefield.”

Even he must have realized it was nonsense. Telling him not to fight to eliminate bad habits in the middle of a battlefield.

So, should he just quietly die?

But Enkrid could do it. By calmly surrendering his life, he excluded combat practice. And today, for the first time, he demonstrated his skills in actual combat.

‘Different.’

Until now, he had fought using whatever means necessary, whether it was Vallen Style mercenary swordsmanship or anything else. That hadn’t changed. The only difference was that swordsmanship now formed the core of his fighting style.

‘I want to learn more.’

The desire to learn surged. He didn’t want to stop at the basics. The enemy soldiers didn’t easily approach Enkrid, who had killed the soldiers of two squads by himself.

For some reason, while holding his ground, Enkrid's vision cleared. The sorcery-induced fog no longer affected him. He saw the enemy soldiers forming a semicircle in front of him. All of them held crossbows.

“Let’s fight one-on-one, like men.”

Wanting to test his newly acquired skills one more time, he said.

“Crazy bastard.”

The soldier who appeared to be the squad leader responded.

Thud, thud, thud!

Crossbows twanged. Bolts embedded themselves all over his body. The bolt that struck his eye brought excruciating pain.

‘Agony.’

But he was also happy. As he lay dying, Enkrid thought of what he needed to do in the repeated today. Ragna had constantly emphasized the basics.

“Train and train again. Keep fighting for your life, and eventually, it’ll stick to your body.”

It was irresponsible advice, but it had meaning. Enkrid needed more real combat. The words ‘death’ settled over his entire body. Before taking his last breath, an enemy soldier looked down at him and said.

“You tough bastard.”

Even then, Enkrid held his sword tightly. The blood he shed pooled on the ground.

“No matter what, even if you’re dying, never let go of your sword. That’s the first thing.”

Countless instructors had said this, Ragna had said it, and Rem had said the same. Enkrid did just that.

“Ptooey!”

An enemy soldier who had lost many comrades spat on Enkrid’s face.

That was the end.

Morning dawned.

A new today began.

Enkrid reflected on what he gained from yesterday's fight.

‘I need more real combat.’

That was the conclusion he reached. He sought Ragna again to learn.

“The basics are solid, but it’s like you’ve trained alone your whole life. Where did you learn the fundamentals of swordsmanship?”

That was true. He felt the same. What he needed now was real combat.

“Here and there.”

“...Here and there? Okay, let’s go with that. It’s good to make what you’ve practiced come out naturally in sparring. And whoever your teacher is, they taught you well.”

That teacher was you. Ragna unwittingly praised himself. Enkrid responded in his mind and focused on sparring. It was incredibly enjoyable.

In the next repeated battle, Enkrid alone cut down thirty enemy soldiers. It wasn’t solely due to his skill. Bolts and arrows were flying. He dodged them skillfully and achieved this. He had to use his wits. That was the only way to extend his real combat experience. He repeated several todays and swung his sword again.

Before long, the basics had stuck to his body perfectly.

“In terms of basics, there’s nothing more I can teach you.”

Eventually, Ragna said this, acknowledging Enkrid’s significant improvement.

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