WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 45: Enduring Countless Battles (1)

"Come at me!"

Platoon Leader Vengeance shouted, swinging his sword down. The mustached man held his sword horizontally, blocking the strike in the middle.

Platoon Leader Vengeance's and the mustached man's swords clashed.

Clang!

As the swords collided, the mustached man stepped forward, using his weight to push his opponent backwards.

Vengeance, focused solely on swinging his sword, was helplessly thrown backward.

"Ugh!"

Losing his balance, he rolled back and forth, raising a cloud of dust where he stopped, right next to Enkrid.

Platoon Leader Vengeance and Enkrid's eyes met. A brief silence hung between them. A cold wind blew from somewhere. Vengeance's face turned bright red.

Enkrid chose his words carefully.

"...You said you came to save me."

Vengeance's pupils shook violently.

"Why is that bastard so strong?"

Enkrid let out a helpless laugh. He came to save him, yet he got knocked out in one hit. Vengeance rolled over and stood up, grabbing his fallen sword and taking his stance again.

"Damn it, you bastard."

He glared at the enemy and shouted.

"Shoot!"

Half of Vengeance's platoon were archers.

"Shoot them all!"

At his command, arrows flew.

"Block it!"

"Raise your shields!"

Several soldiers following closely behind the mustached man rushed forward, raising their shields.

Thud, thud, thud!

Arrows struck the shields. Their timing was perfect. Peeking over the shield, the mustached man glared at Enkrid with murderous intent. Then he snatched a shield from one of his subordinates.

This crazy bastard.

Enkrid gritted his teeth and stood up abruptly. A burning pain shot through his leg and his back where the bolts were embedded. There was no time to groan.

Growl.

The panther bared its fangs beside him. Meanwhile, the shield which the mustached man held closed the distance quickly.

"Crazy bastard!"

Vengeance shouted in surprise. Enkrid endured the pain and drew the shortsword from Vengeance's waist.

Clang.

The mustached man was right in front of him. Retreating wasn’t an option.

Whoosh.

Vengeance swung his sword diagonally to intercept the opponent's strike, intending to halt the charge with force. The mustached man pretended to clash swords, but twisted his wrist, pulling back his sword and diverting Vengeance's blow.

Swish.

Vengeance's sword sliced through empty air. Meanwhile, the panther sprang forward. The mustached man wasn't like an ordinary soldier. He angled his shield downwards, blocking the panther's path and pushing it aside.

"Yelp!"

The panther let out a cry as it was thrown to the side. All this happened within mere seconds. Enkrid, gripping the shortsword, channeled his concentration. Soon, only he and his opponent remained in his mind.

Focus Point.

The injuries, the relief, the emotional shifts all brought forth heightened concentration. Time seemed to slow down for a moment. Enkrid saw the bloodshot eyes of the mustached man. At the same time, he saw the opponent's hands.

The mustached man gripped just above the pommel, extending the reach to deliver a single, decisive slash. In that stance, he swung his sword in an arc, from above to below.

Enkrid didn't even realize when the sword had been raised, but now it was coming down. The blade descended like a guillotine. It felt like the mustached man's blade was urging him to repeat today.

Enkrid didn’t like that.

He held his breath. There was no time to exhale. No time to whimper about the pain. He had learned heavy swordsmanship, but he couldn’t rely on the basics he learned from Ragna now.

So then.

Out of the dozens of sword techniques he had learned, practiced, seen, and mimicked, which could he use now?

Countless defeats had led to endless study and practice. Always learning and observing. His body moved instinctively. The shortsword was weak against impact. If he blocked with force, it would shatter. The mustached man was confident of his victory. He believed he would take the life of the annoying foe in front of him.

Whoosh. Ting, screeech. Thud!

In the end, the mustached man's strike failed. He only managed to cut Enkrid’s shoulder. The wound was deep, and blood spurted out, but he wasn’t dead. He had failed to kill him.

"You..."

Instead of attacking again, the mustached man's eyes widened in surprise. His eyes were filled with disbelief.

"Where did you learn that?"

The mustached man shouted. Enkrid answered honestly.

"From fighting."

Mitch Hurrier had demonstrated the flowing technique countless times in front of Enkrid. His technique was truly exquisite. In a dangerous moment, it had unconsciously emerged.

As the mustached man's sword came down, Enkrid had deflected it with the shortsword, diverting it to the side. He had intercepted the middle of the blade, absorbing the force and loosening his grip to let it slide away.

Distribution of the force and timing, everything had to be perfect for it to work. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have just ended up with a shoulder wound. Enkrid was surprised himself.

‘It worked.’

Though he had seen and studied it countless times, this was the first time he had used it in practice. Without any rigorous training, the technique had succeeded. It was a miracle for someone like Enkrid, who was notoriously talentless.

For the first time, Enkrid’s heart raced. The flowing sword technique he used was something even well-trained swordsmen struggled to imitate.

"You bastard!"

Behind the mustached man, Vengeance swung his sword and charged again. The mustached man turned, parrying Vengeance's sword and raising his shield again.

Thud!

An arrow lodged in the shield. A skilled archer had aimed for him, but he blocked it.

Clang! Clang!

In that place, the mustached man exchanged a few more strikes with Vengeance. He glared at Enkrid with fiery eyes. Enkrid was only staring at the shortsword in his hand. He couldn’t rush to kill him again. If he stayed stuck here, they’d all be doomed. The mustached man turned.

"Retreat!"

He shouted and withdrew. As he did, he made one final remark to Enkrid.

"I won’t forget you."

Enkrid replied sincerely.

"You don’t have to."

He meant it. What good would remembering him do?

Vengeance's platoon didn't chase too far. Even at the forefront, they were far ahead of their own troops. If they advanced further, Vengeance's platoon might get annihilated in a counterattack.

"Hey, your shoulder!"

Vengeance had been glaring at the retreating mustached man, but now he returned to check on Enkrid. Blood was streaming down his shoulder. He had deflected and diverted the blow, but it wasn’t perfect.

Still, Enkrid smiled.

‘It worked.’

He repeated the words he had thought when the technique succeeded earlier. He tried to recall how he had diverted the opponent’s sword, but couldn’t remember clearly. His body had moved on its own. He was filled with exhilaration. It was a new feeling.

"This isn’t the time to smile, you madman."

Vengeance approached and wrapped a cloth around Enkrid's shoulder.

"We have no bandages! We’re retreating now. Fall back to the 3rd Platoon!"

Vengeance ordered his platoon to fall back. They had already won this battle. The company commander had instructed them to pursue the enemy's rear but not too deeply. Having been severely affected by the sorcery, they needed to regroup too.

"You've lost too much blood."

Vengeance said, supporting Enkrid. Enkrid looked at Vengeance and spoke.

"We need to take the panther too."

They had saved each other's lives. He couldn’t leave it behind now.

"You crazy bastard, worry about yourself first."

Despite his words, Vengeance picked up the fallen panther. He checked for injuries and saw blood dripping from its teeth.

'So that's what was running down my back.'

Despite bleeding from its gums, it hadn’t let go of him. Enkrid cradled the panther in his arms. It wasn’t heavy. How had such a small body produced such strength?

Whimper.

The panther whimpered in his arms.

"Let's go!"

Then Vengeance supported Enkrid as they left the battlefield.

From that point, Enkrid was half-conscious. He had lost too much blood. The ferryman of the black river appeared in the air and asked.

"Hey, why do you go to such lengths?"

He was hallucinating due to the blood loss. He couldn’t muster the strength to answer, so he stared at the ferryman, who continued.

"You can just start over."

"It repeats endlessly, countless times."

"Why go to such lengths?"

"What's wrong with living carelessly if today will just repeat?"

"Settle down, stop, hone yourself, and face today again. If you die, you can start a more perfect today."

"Is it the fear of death? No, you’ll get used to it. What’s wrong with letting go of your sanity halfway? Who's watching? Who cares? Today is solely for you."

Enkrid had no energy to speak. He couldn’t walk properly, half-dragged now. So, he answered internally.

Why should I settle?

Just because it repeats, because there’s another chance, why wouldn’t I give it my all today?

If I keep repeating, there will be a stagnant me.

Living like that, I’d be trapped in today.

And just like that, there would be no tomorrow.

Without tomorrow, there are no dreams. Without dreams, it’s meaningless.

‘I don’t want to stop.’

Even if each step was a fraction of what others took. He wanted to move forward. That’s how he wanted to live. Even if he couldn’t become a knight, he wanted to struggle to become one.

Thud.

He lacked the strength to walk and stumbled over a rock.

"Don’t die."

Vengeance mumbled right next to his ear. His vision blurred. He couldn’t see clearly. At some point, the ferryman of the black river disappeared. Enkrid realized the nature of this curse.

"I could do better if I started again, couldn’t I?"

This thought would inevitably come as he repeated today.

But not for Enkrid.

He always wanted to walk towards tomorrow. Instinctively, he knew that a failed tomorrow was better than a perfect today.

‘Settling means the end.’

That’s why this is a curse, not a blessing. Repeating today endlessly would mean never seeing the next day. At the end of his thoughts, Enkrid asked himself.

‘So, was this the best?’

He didn’t know. Only the gods knew what a perfect today looked like. The "today" Enkrid lived was partly luck. There was no guarantee that luck would be present in the next "today."

So, as always, he would walk towards tomorrow. A warm body was nestled in his arms. With blurred vision, he looked down to see the black panther staring at him.

Its blue eyes were like a lake.

And Enkrid lost consciousness.

He thought he might die. Then he would repeat today again. He wouldn’t be discouraged by failing to reach tomorrow. He would struggle to live once more.

Darkness came and enveloped Enkrid. He became a wanderer invited to the world of darkness, losing consciousness.

"Did I make the wrong choice?"

The ferryman of the black river appeared. Enkrid heard his soliloquy.

He turned his head. The ferryman’s smooth, black mirror-like face was still there.

"Let’s see."

His single remark brought Enkrid back to consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he saw the tent ceiling.

"Wow, you survived? I really thought you’d die this time."

Rem's voice was heard.

His shoulder, back, leg, and side were all hurt and his head felt dizzy.

"The cut on your shoulder was serious. I don't know who did it, but it was a clean cut."

Rem continued to chatter. Enkrid, who had been half out of it, blinked a few times.

He then realized there was warmth beside him and reached out. A dull pain throbbed from his shoulder. He felt soft fur under his hand.

"Grrr."

The black panther purred contentedly at the touch.

‘I made it through today.’

"You’re making a habit of fainting."

"Who faints because they want to? I’m thirsty."

"Really?"

Enkrid saw Rem sitting with his arms crossed. Standing behind him was Big Eyes. Big Eyes brought water. A few sips moistened his parched throat like rain on dry ground.

"Wow, our Squad Leader is tough. Look, he's alive."

Big Eyes said, watching him drink.

"He lost a lot of blood."

Jaxon said nonchalantly. At the back, a squad member deep into his religion prayed.

"Lord, we offer gratitude for answering our prayers."

Ragna quietly watched him and spoke.

"Are you alright?"

"It’s not bad enough to die."

He could say that because he had survived. He could say that because he had lived through today and faced tomorrow.

Enkrid smiled modestly and laid back down.

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