WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 422: The Apostle of Curses Came, But

= = =

The Boatman sensed something ominous, but he did not know what it was.

An ill omen was not always a person, but this time, it was.

In the Cursed Ground Holy Sect, the one in charge of a small parish was a bishop. Above that was an archbishop who oversaw several parishes. Above even that stood an apostle.

Which meant one of the cult's few apostles had moved in person.

His name was Redit.

"I will turn him into worm feed."

He steadied himself as he thought of that bastard Enkrid.

If he raised his Will, his divine power would be unleashed. Redit did not release it all at once. He stored it, all of it, to kill a single man.

The apostles of the Cursed Ground Holy Sect were born with divine power.

Redit was born in a village near the Cursed Ground, and before he even turned ten, he slaughtered every villager and all their livestock.

His inborn power was curses.

With a glance, he could burst a person's heart or make worms boil beneath their skin.

He had not originally been an apostle.

He became one because of a meeting when he was fifteen.

Back when he wandered the continent and was called the incarnation of a demon, Redit met someone his power did not work on.

"What an interesting one."

That man's heart should have burst, but he was fine. Worms tore through the flesh of his forearm and writhed all over his limbs, yet he did not even frown.

He smiled while flies gnawed at his skin.

"Try more."

Nothing worked on him.

"Follow me, and I will make your pitiful force worthy of being called divine power."

The man said it with a smile. Redit saw a halo around him. He shone. He was his savior.

"Who are you?"

Redit asked.

The man smiled and answered.

"I am the spokesman for those betrayed by a false god, and an ascetic walking a thorny road for my lord."

Tears spilled from Redit's eyes.

He could feel it. He had lived his whole life for this man.

"Follow Father. I will open a new world for you."

The one who came for him was an apostle of the Cursed Ground Holy Sect.

Redit accepted his teachings.

He trained until his ability was worthy of the name divine power.

That was how he became the Apostle of Curses.

"Father, I am leaving."

The Wolf Bishop was dead, and everything the sect pushed had collapsed again and again.

Whose fault was that? By now, there was no major cult figure who did not know the name Enkrid.

So they could not leave him alone any longer.

The apostle who had brought him in, the one he now called Father, nodded.

Redit clenched his molars, pressed his oozing hands together, and bowed his head as if in prayer.

Seeing that, Father Apostle spoke.

"Go and show them. No one should dare stand in the way of our work like that."

They exchanged those words on a bright, sunlit road.

By the time Naurillia's civil war ended, the apostle was already inside the kingdom.

Redit could not ride horses because of his inborn divine power, and keeping people near him was hard too.

If anyone stayed by his side for more than a week, misfortune struck them without fail.

Crushing a heart with a look and making worms writhe beneath skin were curses he could control. But things like lightning strikes or landslides hitting people just for being near him were not under his control.

His curse was so vicious that someone could die from a scratched branch wound that turned septic.

He was, in every sense, a walking curse sorcerer.

He had never formally learned anything, yet his curses surpassed those of trained sorcerers.

Then he trained further so it would fully deserve the name divine power.

That was how he learned to strengthen his own power.

The fewer people around him, the stronger his heart curse and worm curse became.

Still, he had to control accumulation very carefully.

If he stored curse power for too long, the misfortune rebounded onto him.

For this mission, Redit gathered curses up to his limit.

Enough for backlash to wreck his own body if things went wrong.

His skin softened and leaked fluid. Scabs bloomed all over his pockmarked face, making him grotesque to behold.

At a glance, he could have passed for a ghoul's brother.

His opponent was strong enough to belong to a knight order, so this much preparation was necessary.

For a single curse, Redit roamed only empty roads and drew curse power in.

He did it like an ascetic fasting in prayer.

After all that, this was what remained.

Pitted, mangled skin. A body that creaked with every step. Bones so brittle that a little strain could break them. Guts that could not properly digest food. Dried-out muscles barely doing their job.

It was the heavenly punishment of one born with curses.

He hid his body under a wide cloak, pulled his hood low, and arrived at Border Guard.

"Who are you, and where are you from?"

"Just a traveler. Cough, cough."

Just speaking a few words made his throat itch and his lungs feel scorched.

"This time, I pushed too hard."

Redit knew he had overcharged his curse power.

Still, this would end soon. A few days at most, and he would be able to forget this pain for a while.

A body born under heavenly punishment briefly improved by pouring curses onto others.

For him, using this divine power was also the only way to stay alive.

Otherwise, he would never have slaughtered an entire village, wandered the continent, killed and killed again, and earned the nickname of a demon who cast curses.

Now, Apostle of Curses was enough.

"You look very sick."

"There is a clinic inside. Go get checked."

The gate guards at Border Guard looked him over and nodded.

They did not seem interested in bribes.

Border Guard had recently been rising into a trade city. You might expect guards to hold out their hands, but these men focused only on their duty.

Redit nodded and passed through.

One guard frowned at the fluid running down the bridge of Redit's nose.

"Make sure you get treatment."

The soldier called out. Redit dipped his head once and went inside.

He did not need an inn. He planned to head straight to the barracks.

They said Enkrid was always obsessed with training.

"Enkrid-nim!"

At that moment, someone's voice caught his ear.

He turned and saw a man with black hair and blue eyes.

It was in front of a heat-blasting forge.

The man was pulling metal gauntlets onto both hands.

Clear proof that the god of the Cursed Ground was watching over him.

"The god has watched over me."

Redit recited the teachings. The true god was in the Cursed Ground, and that god did not reject him as a demon.

Then he gathered every bit of power he had.

An invisible wave of curses rose and rushed toward Enkrid.

No, a wave alone would not be enough.

Redit moved.

His cursed body, branded by heavenly punishment, screamed.

This would all be over soon anyway.

He stepped closer and reached out.

Enkrid looked at him.

"It, it's an honor."

Acting like an ordinary citizen, Redit reached toward him. Enkrid did not guard against it. At last, Redit's hand touched Enkrid.

* * *

"I ask the Apostle of the God of War. Is it true you let a heretic go unpunished? You did not do that without realizing it is no different from calling yourself a heretic, did you?"

Audin was dreaming.

A scene from the past appeared first. Then the face of the one speaking to him twisted.

The twisted face soon changed into something like a monster molded from mud.

The creature dragged two lumps that could hardly be called feet, alternating them as it crawled forward. Just watching it, he could feel it had come from very far away.

That monster crawled up, clung to one person, melted him, and crushed him.

When he looked closer, the one being crushed was his General Brother.

"Lord?"

Audin thought it was a kind of prophetic dream. He did not know what the mud monster was, but he felt certain that danger was coming.

He opened his eyes and realized he had dozed off while sitting in broad daylight.

The god must have arranged it this way so revelation could come through a dream.

Then Audin saw the mad barbarian.

"Where did General Brother go?"

"He went to the city to see a smith."

Rem had just gotten his axe back and was swinging it to get used to it.

It felt different from what he had been using, but also somewhat similar to weapons he had used in the past, so adjusting would not be hard. Rem kept repeating the same motions.

Audin sighed and said,

"If we are late, it will be because Father was lazy."

It was something he would never normally say, almost blaming his god, and then he moved.

Rem watched him and wondered what had suddenly gotten into him.

* * *

What was an ill omen?

Enkrid had waited, no, looked forward to when the Boatman's warning would arrive.

But nothing came.

He was not anxious. He simply went through his routine.

"Let's spar once I get used to it."

Rem walked in carrying his new axe as he said it. Lewes steel caught the sunlight and glowed softly.

Anyone could tell it was no ordinary axe.

"How long do you need to adapt?"

"Give me a day. Why are you so desperate to get beaten up?"

The same pointless banter as always.

"Oh, and the smith said he has something to give you."

"Why didn't you bring it when you came?"

"He said he wants to hand it to you himself."

Rem said it while remembering the craftsman who had tried to stick a weird name on his axe.

He had considered taking it by force, but he liked the axe too much for that.

It was sturdy enough not to break easily even against Aker, the new sword Enkrid had obtained.

Enkrid nodded.

The smith sent from the royal palace wanted to present his own work in person.

That ability to understand someone else's intent and feelings was probably the biggest difference between him and Rem.

"Fine then."

A quick trip was no big deal.

Becoming a general had not changed Enkrid's daily life.

Only the other commanders had changed the way they treated him.

Battalion Commander Graham in particular kept a formal attitude.

So did Platoon Leader Benzence and Squad Leader Bell.

And more eyes than before now held not just respect, but admiration, when they looked at him.

Not everyone was like that.

His own troops were not. Sinar was not either.

They were the same as ever.

As Enkrid walked with idle thoughts, he saw Audin asleep off to one side. Even in sleep, his posture never collapsed. That alone was strange.

After seeing that, Enkrid headed down to the market and found the forge.

It was hot. A true Salamander season.

Salamanders were one of the demonic creatures that breathed fire. People also called them flame spirits, or fire-type demonic creatures.

When a season became brutally hot, people compared it to that creature's name.

Summer light passed through tree branches and lit the ground.

As he walked, Enkrid thought about new techniques, how to train them, and how to use them.

He would collect what he came for, return, spar with Rem, and today would be another rewarding day just like any other.

By the time he reached the forge with a light sweat on him, the craftsman greeted him, soaked in sweat himself.

"The steel from your previous sword was excellent. The core was ruined, so I could not forge it into a sword again, but like this."

The craftsman was full of pride. He held out the gauntlets he had made.

They were forged by melting down Enkrid's old sword, Silver.

The metal gauntlets had leather lining inside, and inside that leather were several layers of cotton.

If it were made only of metal, it would not absorb shock.

The outer surface had been finished into smooth curves, making it good for deflecting or knocking away most weapons.

"Your workmanship is excellent."

Enkrid did not hold back his praise. He thought it was a great gift.

He took the item and turned to leave.

"Enkrid-nim!"

Someone who recognized him ran up and called out. It was the cobbler he had crossed paths with before.

A mage had been hiding under that man's shop, and that was when Enkrid opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense.

He could never forget it.

"Ah, I, I was just so happy to see you."

The man's tone was much more polite than before. The Enkrid who had explored the basement under his shop and the Enkrid of now were different in rank, and in everything else.

The cobbler had called out in delight, but he also worried that this man, now almost equal to nobility, might rebuke him.

"Is your daughter doing well?"

"Are you after my daughter?"

"Not that."

As they exchanged brief pleasantries, someone approached Enkrid.

"It, it's an honor."

The man spoke and reached out a hand. Enkrid did not think much of it.

Quite a few people did this after recognizing him.

Some said they came to spar but only stared at his face. Others simply reached out a hand like this.

He could not have imagined this person was the source of the Boatman's ill omen.

Anyone would have struggled to guess that.

Unimpressive looks aside, he clearly looked like someone unable to use force.

From posture to bearing.

Enkrid could tell from his bearing that he looked weak enough to get beaten by a fifteen-year-old boy.

The hand touched his arm.

"How dare you touch him?"

The cobbler saw it and barked angrily.

Enkrid waved it off.

The moment that hand touched him, he felt something, but it vanished just as fast.

Only a vague sensation remained, impossible to define.

"Th-this, this?"

The man's voice shook. He seemed deeply shocked.

Enkrid blinked at the sudden change in emotion.

"He looks very sick."

Enkrid took his hand and shook it back. Just because someone looked shabby, was it right to lash out at him?

No, it was not.

* * *

"What kind of idiot is this?"

Even the Boatman could not see everything.

If a day repeated, he saw most of that repeating day, but even when he sensed ill omens approaching like this, he could not always identify exactly what they were.

So he had never expected that idiot to show up carrying a curse.

For once, the Boatman felt embarrassed.

He had been saying for days that an ill omen was coming, and it turned out to be a curse.

Nothing in this world could place a curse on this madman anyway.

For several reasons, the Boatman knew that curse would fade out and amount to nothing.

"Fucking idiot."

He cursed the group that sent that guy. He did not even know who sent him, yet he kept swearing at them.

"Braindead bastards."

= = =

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried