WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 455: Selling Faith to Buy Action

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Knight's Strike.

That was the one thing Enkrid wanted.

What would it take to get there?

He had no feel for it, so he asked.

"Move your Will? Just, you know, do it," Rem said.

Enkrid was reminded once again that the lunatic with a hobby of cutting off noble heads was a genius.

"Huh, so you can use Will like that," Ruagarne said, turning into a scholar and starting her research. After that, her words were a real help.

"What about breaking it down piece by piece?"

Break down the motion. Load Will into every movement, from the draw to the thrust. Start the preparation process differently, that was what she meant.

Enkrid kept rephrasing his questions and listening to the answers. He asked Romen over and over too.

One day he stayed close to Aoara and asked her as well.

"How am I supposed to explain something that just happens?" Aoara's answer was about the same as Rem's. Ragna would probably say something similar, and Audin too. Would Jaxon be any different?

Ragna would swing his sword and say, "Just do it like this."

Audin would say, "Pray and it all works out."

Jaxon would probably say, "Feel it with your instincts."

Enkrid felt like he could hear their advice from all the way back in Border Guard.

Prayer would not be the answer, but meditation might be.

Swinging loosely would not cut it, but he could not forget to stay natural.

Would sharper senses let him feel Will? Not exactly, but they would tell him how his movements differed from the usual.

When the student surpasses the teachers, things like this become possible.

For the first time in his life, Enkrid had reached the point of hearing one thing and grasping two.

Anyone who knew where he started would have been stunned, but no one could know that now.

Even Rem, watching from beside him, could barely tell.

Horizontal slash from high, diagonal cut, top-down slashes, counters, half-sword fighting, deflections, glances, chain strikes, close-in attacks, draw-and-slice.

He went over every technique he owned, then pulled one out.

A thrust. That was where his instincts pointed.

He would follow them.

Enkrid poured everything into the single motion of driving a sword forward. Raise Spark, drive it out. The insight gained by repeating the same day over and over lived inside that motion, and so did everything he had come to understand about Momentary Will.

Should I separate them?

No. Combine them.

The toes.

Step forward and thrust. That was all there was to it.

What did it take to make that impossible to even think about stopping?

Speed and force.

No imitation could reach this territory.

Of the five virtues, this one was speed, a focus on swiftness.

He repeated it. Time passed. He let day after day go by. The hourglass that only ran for Enkrid kept dropping its grains.

Time that should have eaten a person's mind until they broke.

Time that should have been filled with cries of despair and frustration.

Time for cursing whatever power gave him such impossible odds.

Time for resenting the gods, for resenting parents whose faces he had never seen.

He poured every one of those hours into training instead. He did it while listening to Aoara's screams in the distance.

"You're enjoying their deaths." The Boatman sneered.

Enkrid ignored it.

Soldiers died. Millio died. Rowena died.

"Are you having fun?" the Boatman asked.

He gave no answer. He thought only of his sword.

"You cannot cross this wall," the Boatman said flatly.

It went in one ear and out the other. After a while, the words stopped reaching him at all.

"You will beat the ground in regret. Some things never change." The Boatman's light tone carried something close to worry by the end.

Enkrid heard that too and let it pass.

You have too many scattered techniques.

He took Aoara's words about cutting them away and folded everything together instead. His body naturally pulled it all into one.

Was this the road toward becoming a knight?

Or a wrong turn?

Just desperate thrashing?

A waste of time?

Doubt could have crept in, but Enkrid only took one stubborn step forward.

Walking like that, he reached today.

A shriek tore through the air.

Enkrid woke to it without even wiping the sleep from his eyes, told Rem to follow, picked up his sword, and walked out.

"Block this."

He said it without preamble and drove the sword forward. Rem, who had followed him out, moved his axe on pure reflex.

Rem saw the point arrive faster than sound and barely got it up in time.

Clang.

The point of the sword touched the flat of the axe and pulled away.

"What the hell, were you trying to punch a hole through my axe?"

If he had gone full force, there might actually have been a hole. Enkrid opened and closed his hand a few times.

Could he do that twice?

Even with a body tempered by the Isolation Technique, one single thrust had left his ankle, his lower back, and his shoulder all aching at once.

His muscles screamed. He did not care.

"Let's go."

Enkrid headed for the battlefield.

Inside his mind, he ran through that single moment again and again, more times than he could count.

This was only the beginning.

"Dunbakel."

The Beastfolk, who looked strangely anxious, came at his call.

Her face was grimy from not washing, and the sour smell hit his nose. He spoke to her almost in a whisper.

"Did I ever tell you?"

"...Tell me what?"

The sudden warmth in his tone put her on guard immediately.

Her Beastfolk instincts spoke up. This bastard is up to something.

"I actually trust you."

"..."

A dog barked somewhere in the distance. Dunbakel blinked.

"You're the prettiest Beastfolk I've ever seen."

The number of female Beastfolk Enkrid had seen in his life could be counted on one hand.

Without question, Dunbakel was the first he had ever looked at closely.

Either way, it was a strange thing to say out of nowhere.

"Suddenly?"

"You're strong."

"Rem, is he sick?"

"I've always thought your potential was greater than mine."

That part was true. Enkrid knew well enough that his own talent had never been anything to speak of.

"No fever," Dunbakel said, pressing her palm to his forehead.

"So it's fine if you run."

There was a saying on the continent: even a Dragonkin will dance at a compliment.

Even Dragonkin who cared only for themselves found that kind words landed well.

Enkrid did not want Dunbakel to become a cat so soaked in fear it wet itself.

"Running is fine, so fight until then. Do what you can, while you still can."

Dunbakel stopped walking.

Did this one know something she didn't?

She had been suffering because she wanted to live, because staying alive was the only thing she wanted entirely.

Is just surviving enough?

Beastfolk were born with sharp survival instincts. Dunbakel's ran even deeper than most.

She could do anything to stay alive.

At the same time, something in her gut told her that only surviving would never make her into anything.

What do I even want to become, besides someone who survives?

Enkrid's words stopped her feet. Everyone else kept moving while she fell into thought alone. It did not take long.

Before anyone had taken three steps, in just the time it took to draw a few steady breaths, Dunbakel stood still and thought.

Why am I here?

She dropped a stone of a question into the lake of herself. Ripples spread outward.

Before they had even settled, an answer surfaced. It was a kind of realization.

Proof.

Dunbakel wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with her, that she was not a failure her own kind had produced, that she had lived properly even without her parents' love.

That was what she wanted to show.

She had spent her life denying herself, so she envied Enkrid for walking so purely forward.

Though he had hardly walked that road easily.

"Ah."

A short sound escaped her, and Dunbakel started moving again.

She had decided what she needed to do right now. The fear that had been soaking through her until moments ago had faded, just a little.

One thing cannot overcome everything. But just as some people can walk forward when they have a landmark to aim for, Dunbakel could at least see the path she wanted to take.

* * *

"Rowena is..."

"If you're going to save her, come with me."

Enkrid cut through the commotion in front of the gate.

"...What?"

Rowena's man stared at him.

The words were so abrupt that his mind stalled for a moment. But once the meaning landed, the soldier moved.

"You're coming with us?"

"What's your name?"

Enkrid had never actually learned this soldier's name.

"Admore."

"Right. Let's go."

Enkrid needed his intention to land with these people.

It reminded him of the time back when he was a squad leader, persuading Andrew in the tall grass.

Back then he had started by showing what he could do, but now that was not necessary.

"Eisia!"

At his shout, Eisia came from the side, wearing armor with a cloak draped over it.

He had heard that the knights' cloaks were fire-resistant and enchanted to hold in body heat when wrapped around the body. On top of that, they stopped simple spells outright. The cloak was a symbol of the knightly order.

It was not a cumbersome thing to wear. It was practical, which was why she wore it.

"What?"

"Did I ever tell you?"

He raised his voice just enough for everyone nearby to hear, and felt the soldiers' gazes pull toward him.

Not just them, Aoara, and the junior knights and Squires at the front, were all listening as well.

"...Tell me what?"

Eisia was not sure what this person was doing.

The one who sometimes did reckless things had just manufactured a strange atmosphere and drawn every eye in the area.

Enkrid noticed her reaction and ignored it.

He did not have time to address every detail.

"That I was once a Demon Creature hunter with quite a reputation."

That had never been true.

He had been a Demon Creature hunter, yes, but never one with a reputation.

"Were you?"

"I've got a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"There's something coiled up in there like a snake. Deep inside."

Eisia followed his gaze and looked in that direction.

The Cursed Ground had an unsettling quality that pricked at the skin, that much was true, but she felt nothing specific.

"What are you talking about?"

Aoara asked from the top of the wall.

"The air has changed. My Beastfolk has been picking up a scent too. She says the smell of something being plotted is coming not just from the Screaming Spiders but from deeper inside the Cursed Ground."

"Me?"

Dunbakel pointed at herself from the side. Rem stepped smoothly in front of her and said, "Shut up and watch."

It seemed like their captain was setting something up.

He had no idea what.

Should be interesting, though.

Rem did not think it through beyond that. He trusted him.

"Rem, Dunbakel. Come back quick."

Then Enkrid looked at Rem.

"Where exactly am I going?"

"Over there."

Enkrid pointed toward the inside.

Admore, who had come out to rescue Rowena, fidgeted nearby and watched the exchange.

"That's the inside of the Cursed Ground."

"You scared?"

"Is that supposed to be a provocation?"

"No, I'm just asking."

"Hell if I know what this is, but I'm in. Let's go."

"Finish it fast and get back."

Rem could have asked a dozen questions.

Something like, "I don't know what's in there or what I'm supposed to be doing, what exactly are you saying?"

That would have been fair. It was a frustrating set of instructions by any measure.

If Rem had said that, Enkrid might have had to play prophet and say, "Just go and you'll see."

Or maybe just admit it was a gut feeling.

Enkrid had no answer prepared for any of it.

"Sure," Rem said, and nodded.

Enkrid told Admore to follow behind Rem.

"Look for a trail. You'll be able to save what you're trying to save."

Admore had no other choice and fell in quickly behind Rem.

The departing shape of Rem's back caught Enkrid's eye as he walked away.

Back in the old days, wandering the continent, no one would have listened to a word he said.

In his days with the problem squad, he had used force in situations like this.

Andrew came to mind, just like that.

There had been times he had to beat someone into following him.

Now?

He could buy action with faith.

Through many repeated todays, Enkrid had known Rem would respond exactly like this.

"Let's move. Eisia."

"Where am I going?"

Eisia beside him was just as baffled as anyone.

"You need to command the Squires and fight."

Enkrid was firm.

"Now? Me? Over there?"

"Eisia of the Red Cloak Knights, you're watching Thousand Bricks fall into danger and you want to stand in the back and watch? And after that you'd still want to wear that Red Cloak?"

The sudden rebuke lit a fire behind Eisia's eyes.

"Is this a fight?"

"Encouragement."

She went anyway. Eisia had received too much from this man to refuse him.

He was also the one who had made it possible for her to wear the Red Cloak in the first place.

After the civil war, she felt she owed him a debt. Quite a large one at that.

So there was no reason not to hear him out on something like this.

Enkrid killed six spider Demon Creatures that had been tearing loose in front of the four Squires, then lifted his foot and slammed it into the ground.

The heavy stomp rang out, and heads turned, Romen's included.

Aoara looked at him too.

"No one hunts Demon Creatures better than I do. From here on, I'm commanding the front line."

"...Was there something off about the drink earlier?"

Romen muttered under his breath.

Enkrid ignored it. He had bought action with faith. Now it was time to buy faith with action.

"Tunneling spiders. Watch the ground."

Repeating the same day over and over had given him an advantage in information. That meant, within a certain range of prediction, he could know the order of the enemy's attacks.

Thud.

The dirt floor trembled. A moment later, the soil burst open and a spider poked its head through.

"Oliver, hit it."

Whose order it was did not matter. Oliver brought his mace down on pure reflex.

Crack.

The spider's head burst and sprayed black fluid.

"Romen, below your feet."

Before Enkrid had even finished speaking, the ground beneath Romen began to stir with a soft hiss of dirt.

These were not people who would be caught off guard by something bursting out of the sky or the earth.

Naturally, shattering the skull of a spider that stuck its head up when everyone already knew it was coming was no trouble at all.

Crunch.

Romen's club-like greatsword drove in vertically and crushed the spider's head.

One by one, spiders poked their heads through within the range Enkrid called. When a formation of them pressed in together and the rear gate looked about to open..."Close the gate. We hold what's left with the people already standing here. Archers, aim only over our heads!"

Enkrid spoke quietly, then bellowed the last part.

Not like himself at all. Aoara watched from the top of the wall and nodded with a curious look.

It was plain to see from where she stood.

Those words and that bearing came from certainty. She could watch and find out what he was trying to do, and step in whenever she wanted if it went sideways.

Besides, she did not think the call itself was a bad one.

Enkrid moved as he intended.

He bought action with faith.

He bought faith with action.

What came after?

Now it was time to fight like hell.

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