WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Abstract
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES
Chapter 425: Where Am I Now?
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Every fine hair on Enkrid’s body stood on end.
It felt like the other man’s blade could slash his throat at any moment.
Could he block it?
His hands and feet moved before the thought could fully form.
He shifted his footing and placed a hand over his sword belt. It was the most comfortable stance to draw at any moment.
As he adjusted his posture, dozens of ways to attack flashed through his mind, then vanished just as quickly.
What if he threw a Whistle Dagger to steal the man’s focus?
Or rushed in and brought down the Crushing Sword?
Should he try Giant’s Strike?
Focus Point activated on its own, and he did not even allow himself to blink.
He saw his opponent’s eyes.
Those yellow eyes held a playful glint. That playfulness alone could kill.
Yes, it could.
So what would that change?
His concentration flared, and the Eye That Sees One Inch Ahead activated by itself.
Every method of attack would be blocked. That was how it would go.
So what? What did that matter?
Raised body hair, pounding heart, sweat running down his skin, a chill that did not match the weather.
Enkrid decided to forget everything.
When he had endured against that knight before, his method had been simple, move first and strike first.
Without that, he had no confidence he could block even one attack.
Back then, that had been the best option.
Then what about now?
Enkrid had been beaten down and broken countless times, yet still kept walking after a faded dream.
He swung his sword all day without rest until his palms split open.
There was not a single day he had not lived that way.
The sun rose new every day, but Enkrid had not wasted even one of them.
Would it work?
A sudden urge surged inside him. He wanted to do everything.
Could he do it now?
He wanted to. Heat boiled up inside him, everything around him faded away, and only his opponent remained.
Was this arrogance, or overconfidence?
Before he became the troublemaking squad leader, those endlessly repeated todays had already started to feel like a distant past.
Even then, Enkrid had once felt something like confidence.
How could he not?
He had swung his sword like a madman, over and over.
He had not known that effort was not rewarded equally for everyone.
No, he had known and looked away anyway.
Confidence born among mediocrities stirred his urge to challenge stronger people.
How far have I come now?
Thinking that, he went looking for someone worth fighting.
He stepped forward on nothing but baseless faith that he had changed.
And what was the result?
Spring, age twenty-seven.
Enkrid realized his talent was insignificant.
A quarrel picked up on the street made that clear.
In five exchanges, the sword in his hand was knocked away, and a hole was opened in his stomach. Pressing his palm over the wound, Enkrid asked,
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
Twelve. The answer was absurd.
This was what a real genius looked like.
“Sorry, that was my first real fight.”
That was what the kid had said.
The memory was still vivid. He still could not forget the face of that genius child.
Even so.
A sword that had forgotten confidence could cut an opponent, but it could not defeat one.
“If you’ve got time to hesitate, just swing.”
That was what Rem said.
“Cut until it cuts.”
That was Ragna’s advice on cutting stone that would not split.
“If the mind is lacking, train the body. If the body is lacking, train the mind, brother-nim.”
Audin had said training that left no room for thought was the answer.
“Just stab them from the shadows.”
That was Jaxon’s answer when asked what to do against a stronger enemy.
Maybe even now he wanted to test his skill with groundless confidence.
So what if he did?
He had stacked up a tower called effort, still found it lacking, clawed his way up a wall in desperation, and reached this point.
Enkrid wanted to test himself. He wanted to quench his thirst. He wanted to level his sword at this man.
How far has the current me come?
Compared to when he met the knight of Azpen?
Compared to when a child genius drove a blade through his stomach?
It was force and stubbornness, pride and obsession.
The other man saw that too.
He had loosened up, yet this one still tried to rush him.
The man in the vest looked straight at Enkrid and smiled.
There was plenty to laugh at.
Not just this bastard’s stubbornness, but how the others naturally went along with the flow too.
“I don’t know. Me neither.”
The man moved. A sharp thud came from the ground as he kicked off, and his body seemed to stretch forward.
Acceleration beyond human limits.
The instant Enkrid recognized it, his sword moved too.
It was neither Giant’s Strike nor the Crushing Sword.
His body reacted before any thought could form.
Boom!
A blast rang out. Enkrid felt himself shoved backward, but he bent his knees, lowered his center of gravity, and held.
Rrrrrk.
Dirt scraped under his boots. Holding that posture, Enkrid pulled back his deflected blade and thrust. Minimizing every movement to target an opening was second nature.
It was a response born from pure instinct, built through countless spars with Rem.
“Hiyah!”
With a shout, the man knocked that away too. His weapon was a dagger with a thick, curved, hand-length blade called a Jambiya.
It had clashed with Aker and did not chip or break.
Clearly, it belonged among renowned blades.
Rem, Ragna, or Audin could have stepped in, but none of them did.
Clang! Tak-tak-tak!
Their weapons collided again and again.
Instead of retreating, Enkrid kept his eyes on the dagger’s path.
Amazingly, the dagger seemed to vanish moment by moment, but each time he predicted it with the Eye That Sees One Inch Ahead activated by Will.
It was like seeing the starting point and predicting the destination.
He still had to read part of the blade’s path, and that was only possible with help from the Eye That Sees One Inch Ahead.
Because of that, he could not commit to big techniques, but he could barely endure.
After dodging and deflecting twelve times, Enkrid dropped his left hand to his waist in a flash, then shot it forward. He had drawn Spark and thrust.
It was faster than ever, swift was the only word for it, and the sword shot out as a single point.
Then Spark’s blade was caught in the man’s hand.
With a sharp tap, the blade stopped dead, as if wedged between rocks.
Before he knew it, the Jambiya in the man’s other hand was at Enkrid’s neck.
With one hand gripping Spark’s edge, he slipped past the arm holding Aker, wedged himself in close, and set the dagger against Enkrid’s throat.
“That’s enough. You’re a fun kid.”
The man said it.
Only then did Enkrid’s vision widen. Until now, he had seen only the man in front of him.
Now he saw everything else.
The familiar training ground, the three trees, all of it.
At the same time, every muscle in his body tingled faintly. It felt like the strain after forcing himself through days of training at his limit.
“Which order of knights are you from?”
Enkrid asked.
“A knight? I’m not one.”
The man answered with a shrug. The gesture looked oddly innocent, nothing like his scarred body and rough-cropped beard.
“Shouldn’t you introduce him first?”
A brown-skinned man in a wide cloth hat and turban approached late, looked around at everyone, and spoke.
His tone was calm, as if the commotion moments ago had been nothing.
“Allow me to introduce him. This is Lord Anu, commonly called the King of the East.”
Even Enkrid froze for a moment at that sudden introduction.
“Surprised?”
The King laughed heartily as he spoke.
Mercenary King of the East, greatest explorer on the continent, owner of a griffon, the man who killed a lion with one sword at eighteen.
“Now then, let’s see. I hear you enjoy fighting. I also hear you staked your life on killing demons. Come under me. I will gift you knight-level martial power that can kill demons.”
Those words came from a man of many titles who had already proven himself.
The reason no one, including Rem, had stepped in was obvious.
That bastard called the King of the East had shown not even a trace of killing intent.
He had accepted Enkrid’s stubbornness. It had been a kind of lesson, so it was hard for anyone to interfere.
But the weight of what he said now was different.
Even Ragna, who had been staring blankly in thought, changed his gaze at those words.
“You sound awfully confident.”
Rem said, unable to stay quiet, and Audin let out a dry chuckle.
He had not called himself a knight, but the strength he showed was enough for anyone to call him one.
Then he stood straight and spoke with open confidence. It gave off a similar air to Crang.
Ruagarne watched closely, this man who claimed he would do what even Frog, who dared explore the unknown, could not.
She had to hear exactly how he planned to do it.
Blazing sun. A corner of the training ground without a scrap of shade. Dust scattered across the blue stone with each movement, then settled again.
The sunlight, hotter than warmth, swept over the dust and the people gathered there.
A brief silence passed, just before Enkrid could speak.
“My lord, you should not make promises you cannot keep.”
The turbaned man who had come with him spoke up again at last.
Hm?
At those words, Enkrid’s brow twitched slightly.
“Do I look like I can’t do it?”
The King asked sternly.
“How exactly will you do it?”
The turbaned man asked back.
“Well.”
“Doing it well does not make everything possible.”
“Then with effort?”
“Still not possible.”
“If I keep at it, it might work.”
The King’s eyes burned with zeal as he said that last line. Anyone might have wanted to believe him. But the Lieutenant did not yield.
“If it cannot be done, it cannot be done.”
“You give up too early!”
“This is not giving up. I’m saying you should not throw around promises you cannot keep.”
The King snorted.
Watching that, Enkrid caught Rem’s scent.
A different type, but clearly another mad bastard.
“We asked to visit because rumors were everywhere, but it seems we barged in like this. Please accept our humble apology. Still, we mean no harm.”
The Lieutenant spoke in a thick Eastern dialect.
Everyone could understand him. At least the part about meaning no harm.
Even Enkrid could tell the man had accepted his stubbornness.
“Welcome.”
So he greeted them simply.
“Would it be all right if I stayed a few more days?”
The King of the East asked.
“You look like the type who’ll do what he wants even if we stop him.”
Rem cut in.
The King laughed loudly.
“Good instincts!”
He was not the kind of man who would listen if told no. Enkrid did not feel much resistance either.
He was already talking to Rem, Ragna, and Audin, so he seemed very sociable.
That did not mean those three were the sort to keep just anyone at their side.
“Look at your size. Bet you’ve got some strength.”
“Only a little, brother-nim of the East.”
“One of my brothers, a fellow named Gestarian, has some strength too. You two would suit each other. Every one of you looks capable. How did you all end up gathered here?”
His tone was odd. He spoke lightly while treating everyone like children.
“This has really caused a disturbance on our side.”
The man who seemed to be the Lieutenant said awkwardly. Enkrid sank into thought for a moment.
That spar had left something with him.
Not the strain on his body.
The techniques from that instinctive domain Rem had tried to teach him countless times.
No matter how much they were polished, techniques that could not be used in real combat were not true techniques.
Could he try those against this man?
From the way he spoke, it seemed he would accept a spar request anytime.
More than anything, unlike Rem, Ragna, and Audin, this man could take it even if Enkrid used everything he had.
In other words, he could get a chance to fight with all his strength, ready to kill.
Enkrid had already thought that far before saying those five syllables, welcome.
“If it’s about five spars a day.”
Enkrid murmured, and the Lieutenant blinked.
“Pardon? What did you just say?”
“Could we make it ten?”
Enkrid said it while thinking that would not be bad either, if his body could endure it, and looked at the Lieutenant.
“Sounds like you heard me.”
“I heard you, yes.”
The Lieutenant thought to himself that until now, he had believed the king he served was the maddest man alive, but now there was someone similar here.
That was how the King of the East’s stay was decided.
“Take good care of me, you young punks.”
The King said.
“How old are you?”
Rem asked.
“I’m over a hundred.”
Everyone clicked their tongues at the age that did not match his appearance. It was no lie.
He was the man who led the mercenaries and many other talents who followed him, then founded a kingdom in the East.
Stories of that founding had already been around for over fifty years.
He had lived from then to now, still full of vigor, a monster. That was Anu, the mercenary king of the East.
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