WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 478: Watching, Temperament, Jokes, Alone

= = =

The night before, Rem had said it.

The way Enkrid lived, the way he walked through life, had shown Rem the path he needed to take.

He was grateful for that.

It was irritating to say he wanted to follow this man again, but gratitude was gratitude.

That was why.

Arath wanted to show him the things she loved, the things her family loved, her friends, the West.

"There's something I want to show you."

She said it and led Enkrid out. The two of them walked, stepping around ants, watching insects, pushing into the headwind.

They left camp behind quickly. No hesitation in their steps.

The West did not have Demon Creatures as thick on the ground as the continent did, but you could not wander around treating it lightly either.

Still, neither Enkrid nor Arath were the kind to be brought down by a few Demon Creatures.

While the tribe was getting settled, they had swept out several nearby Demon Creature packs, so the area was nearly clear.

Maybe a Copycat would show up, one of those wildcats that lured humans in.

Those were more of a headache than a danger.

They were clever about it, working sounds to dig into a person's weak spots and reel them in.

That was why wildcat was treated as a common insult in the West.

Only now did Enkrid understand why Jaxon had been called a sneaky wildcat. It had been an insult all along. Well, even before he knew that, it had sounded like one.

Both of them walked fast, and Arath climbed a small rise without slowing.

Enkrid followed, and then he looked up at the sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Arath asked.

Enkrid nodded.

The sky looked as though someone had laid a white ceiling across it.

Clouds hung low and wide, covering the heavens from edge to edge.

But it was not dark.

Thin clouds. Sunlight pressed through them and lit the ground below.

A strange sight.

"Sun-shading clouds," Arath said.

A sight you could only find in the West. Beautiful. The clouds, the sunlight, the horizon stretching beyond them.

Knight Aoara, bright as sunlight.

The thought of her came on its own.

That warmth was like her smile. Not scorching, not sharp, just soft and enveloping.

Nothing like the sunlight of the City of Aoara. That was something else entirely.

The city's light was the kind that drove back the darkness of the Cursed Ground, the kind that smashed through fog and became strength.

The West's sunlight did not break anything. It wrapped around you and held you gently.

This warmth resembled Knight Aoara, not the city named for her. She fought at the front, yes, but in ordinary days she was the kind of person who wrapped the whole city in that same warmth.

"Is it worth protecting?"

On one of those days, the Boatman had asked him out of nowhere.

No object given, but the intent was plain enough. Are the things you want to protect worth protecting? Is there enough reason to push through the pain?

Enkrid had not bothered to answer.

The answer was already settled inside him.

Worth was something you decided for yourself.

Did you have to follow whatever some person called a sage proclaimed? What another person decided could not be your own standard.

This was his life.

So worth was something completed through the eyes with which you yourself looked at the world.

The people of the West were like that.

Arath began to talk. A story that seemed unremarkable from one angle, and from another seemed to carry on the spirit of the Western people.

"On days when the sunlight is strong, heat haze rises over there, and funny enough, a few days after that kind of blazing sun comes pouring down. We call that Bear's Blessing."

Why it was called Bear's Blessing would probably take a whole myth to explain, the story went that long.

"We're not rich. But there isn't much hardship either."

What is worth protecting.

Arath said she loved this West of hers.

That protecting this land was something she genuinely enjoyed.

"I've never seen snow, but it must be something like white hailstones, right?"

Hailstones was what she called it. Hard stones and snow were nothing alike.

"Snow is probably beautiful too."

Loving the West did not mean looking down on everything else.

Of course, if you told the army that snow was beautiful, the number of people who would instantly grab their weapons and charge at you would fill a parade ground more than once over.

More than that, probably. Not less.

But you could not deny that it was beautiful.

There were days when he had looked at snow-covered mountains.

Days when he had seen forests blazing red with autumn leaves.

In Enkrid's hometown, two trees stood guard in front of the village.

Trees so wide that even with both arms spread you could not reach around them.

Those trees put out brilliant red leaves in autumn and went green in summer.

In winter, snow piled on the bare branches.

Enkrid had always liked the look of them.

The worth of what you choose to protect is yours to decide.

Arath was the same.

The Western people were the same.

"We love this land," Arath said.

So they did not covet the continent. If something was lacking, you lived with the lack.

What has been handed down over long years is called tradition.

Western tradition had settled into the spirit of its people.

That day, Enkrid saw the sun-shading clouds. He saw cloud towers as well.

Standing on a high ridge, he could see the horizon, and from beyond it white clouds descended like towers.

An afternoon spent looking at the horizon, sunlight, wind, and clouds, then walking back.

Around sunset, Arath came by again.

"Hira, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Enkrid had become a Curse Ward doll, or rather a Human Totem, but he did not need to stay inside the tent all day.

If the Fortune-Teller Tribe did not perform their group ritual again, the same curse could not come a second time.

Hira knew that a group-scale ritual like that was no easy thing. It would have required a sacrifice to pull off.

To spread the Violet Demon Lord's Curse widely enough that the name alone sounded absurd, attempting it without a sacrifice would have been impossible from the start.

The eldest Sorcerer had needed to fight fire with fire. He had offered up his own consciousness and his remaining lifespan to stop it.

In other words, this was the kind of curse that could neither be cast nor blocked without a sacrifice.

That was also why the eldest Sorcerer had still not woken. What you gave as a sacrifice did not come back easily.

Rem stopped by from time to time to ask whether the eldest Sorcerer might wake. Hira did not know when that would be.

If not for him, the entire tribe would have collapsed under the curse.

What the eldest Sorcerer had done was shrink the scale and buy time. Simple to say, but from a sorcery standpoint, he had pulled off several desperate gambles in a row.

He had been lucky.

As though somewhere, someone had warded off misfortune on the tribe's behalf.

Hira let her thoughts stop right there and did not press further. It was hard to keep track of everything happening everywhere.

She only did what needed doing, sleeping in snatches.

Erasing the traces of the curse as quickly as possible, one day at a time, that was her work.

Hira heated the short needles in both hands over the flame and gave a single nod. Her answer to whether she was alright.

"Let's go."

Arath led Enkrid out again.

This time they were heading for a very large lake.

"You've never ridden one, have you?"

She said it as she asked. In her hand was a lead rope, and at the end of it was a Velopter, watching Enkrid with vertically slit eyes.

Beside her, Juol and the man who had been guarding the tent entrance followed along.

Short hair, a blade-like pattern etched above his brow, and an expression that was anything but gentle.

Arath had brought four Velopters.

"Do you know where Rem's been sleeping? Haven't seen him around."

That was why she asked.

"With me, where else would he be?"

The answer came straight away.

Had they made up already?

"Spouses sharing a home is only natural," Arath added, matter-of-fact.

What charm had Rem used to turn her around? His only real skill was swinging an axe, so maybe he had just overpowered her.

Enkrid resolved to have a word with him about treating his wife that way.

Juol just laughed beside them.

The other man had been quietly hostile toward Enkrid from the start. He thought he understood why now. The man's eyes kept moving back and forth between Enkrid and the woman who had followed him here.

"Benefactor."

It was Jiba's mother, who had insisted on coming despite being told everything was fine.

Even now she had placed both hands on her knees, pressing down to make a step for him to mount the Velopter.

"Please, go ahead."

"I can get on by myself," Enkrid said. He walked around to the other side, pushed lightly off the ground, and climbed up.

The creature must have been a calm one, it did not flinch when his weight settled onto it. It bent its knees briefly to bear the load, then straightened again.

If you were talking about a person, you would call it good physical instincts. It knew how to distribute the weight coming down on its back.

Rem had said Velopters could outthink a horse and run better too.

Still, they could not be smarter than Odd-Eye. Smart was one thing, but Odd-Eye had a resolute will on top of it.

Despite having Magic Beast blood mixed in, the stallion had the audacity to cover mares without a second thought.

He had heard Odd-Eye had sired offspring out near Greenfield. That came from Nuare, Krais's lover, who had served under the Greenfield Battalion Commander for a time.

He had no idea why that memory surfaced now. Probably because he was looking at a mount.

Enkrid shook the idle thought loose and took hold of the Velopter's reins.

The reins sat in its mouth and it would move however he pulled them, he was told.

Ruagarne had stayed behind at the tent. There was a reason.

"There's a strange smell," she said, once everyone was ready to move.

"I washed two days ago?"

Dunbakel was beside her, foot going numb from kneeling too long.

"Not that kind of smell."

Ruagarne said it gently and told them she would look around the area.

Enkrid did not worry much about it. Frogs were said to have dull senses in general, but when it came to whatever they had fixed their mind or desire on, they were sharper than even a Beastfolk's nose. Something must have caught her attention.

"Let's go."

Arath took the lead. The Velopters kicked off the ground and started to run.

Enkrid tightened his legs and held on with muscle alone. Getting used to a Velopter was not simple. It was nothing like a horse.

"Having trouble?"

Juol noticed and came up beside him.

"Don't tense your legs, let them hang loose. Velopters are very smart. Just give your body over to it and it'll handle the rest. This one's well-trained."

Enkrid listened to the Western drawl and did as he was told.

Arath slowed a little.

"A talented kid picks it up the moment they get on. You're a bit slow, aren't you?"

She meant that someone with a natural gift for using their body would learn immediately.

Still, after riding a little while he got the feel of it.

His ability to control his own body had doubled from what it used to be.

They rode out and arrived at an enormous lake.

Too wide to take in from end to end at a single glance.

"Big lake," Arath said, and smiled.

Sometimes a thin mist settled over it, rare for the West, though not today.

Under a clear sky, the lake mirrored the heavens. Fish leaped and played in the rippling water. The white gravel shore made the water look even cleaner.

While they were taking in the view, the hostile Westerner spoke up.

"I'd like to ask what you intend with that woman."

Straight to it with no preamble, which was very Western of him. No need to ask who he meant. He was not even trying to hide his hostility. He meant Jiba's mother.

"I'm not interested and I have no intentions."

"Don't forget that Jiba is still young."

The man said it, and Enkrid calmly cleared up the misunderstanding.

"Do you know how to fight?"

"I'm a warrior."

"Then let's spar."

Words would take too long. They crossed blades and traded a few exchanges.

The man used a wide falchion and his technique was not bad. If he kept training at this rate, he could probably eat through any Squire he faced. There was talent there.

"I'm not interested, so drop it. And I know Jiba is young."

He said it after tripping the man and driving a palm into his solar plexus.

The man could not breathe. His face went pale, but he coughed and gasped and answered anyway.

"Hk, I know. Just jealousy."

Western temperament. Nothing stayed hidden. To Enkrid, that looked like a strength.

"How well does Geomnarae fight?"

"Geomnarae of the Narae Tribe? He's the top warrior."

The man said it and Arath added, "Top warrior means best fighter in the tribe."

He had already figured that from context.

They rode back to camp, trained, and traded jokes with Geomnarae.

"I saw a wide river. On the other side stood my dead father."

Another person had woken up and was already talking.

"And then?"

Geomnarae asked from beside him, and the man lowered his voice for effect.

"I crossed it, didn't I? My father was calling for me."

Jiba had wandered over at some point and was listening closely. This man had a real gift for storytelling.

He let his gaze drift out toward some distant emptiness for a moment.

Then he spoke.

"When I crossed, the water came up to my waist. But the current wasn't strong. I dragged myself through, soaking wet, and came face to face with my father."

"Face to face, and then?"

Geomnarae asked again. Enkrid had already shifted into a listening posture without realizing it.

"I cracked him on the jaw and turned around. It's not my time yet!"

No real strength left in him, yet he slapped his right hand against his left forearm and thrust his left fist into the air.

He was saying he had punched his own father in the jaw. Everyone laughed.

Geomnarae bellowed with laughter, Jiba let out a bright, childlike shriek of delight, and her mother burst out laughing too.

"So, is this the place the sky god keeps? Or did the Mother of the Earth hold me here? I can still see your face, Geomnarae, so I must still be on our stinking ground."

Managing jokes like that less than half an hour after waking up, that was a talent in its own right.

"Foreigner, I heard you're supposed to thank someone without asking questions the moment you wake up. Did you dig up some weakness on Hira?"

This man was something.

"Does it look that way?"

"Or did you charm her with that face? Hira, I didn't think you were the type."

The man laughed freely and kept the jokes coming.

Later, after Enkrid heard himself called a Human Totem, the man forced himself upright and bowed his head.

"Thank you. It would have been a bitter end. Foreigner, I will repay your sacrifice, that I promise."

A few more people woke after that. Enkrid watched Arath and the people around her and caught glimpses of Western life.

The great lake, the sun-shading clouds, something called the Mother's Glow at dusk, a long ridge called Mireoeum, he saw all of it.

He was doing light exercises inside the tent when the sound came.

"Hu-man!"

Thunder cracked outside. That thunder spoke words, and it sounded like it might split his eardrums.

Enkrid stood and looked outside. The tent entrance was open.

Through it he could see a massive head and eyes rolling wildly.

A size that shattered your sense of distance.

A Giant.

He already knew about it. The tribe had mentioned two Giants threatening them all, monsters that exceeded junior knight level.

He stood and turned toward the entrance, and found himself face to face with Rem, who was just stepping inside.

"I looked everywhere and couldn't find you," Rem said.

Rem turned back around. Enkrid followed him out.

In front of the weak fence of cloth and wood.

"Bring out five humans! I am hun-gry!"

A Giant that had come without any idea what it was walking into. Thick furs, a black and mottled club large enough to crush a grown body whole in a single swing.

The reason the club was black and mottled was the blood of those it had killed, dried and caked onto the wood.

Every time the Giant moved, a raw smell drifted over.

The stench of blood and base hunger, a dull, sickening reek.

"Not something to take lightly," Ruagarne said from behind them. The Frog's gaze was already sizing up the Giant's strength.

Enkrid could do the same.

His eyes saw what was in front of him too.

Even among Giants, whose raw strength set them apart from everything else, this was a standout specimen.

Humans were not all the same kind of human, and Giants were not all the same kind of Giant.

Two Giants that could actually fight were blocking the view right now.

Blocking exactly the horizon Arath had shown him.

Rem gripped his axe and stepped forward. Enkrid was beside him in an instant, catching Rem's wrist.

"You want to go together?"

"No."

Then what? Rem's eyes asked. Enkrid took one step forward and said it.

"Just me."

Rem had eyes. These were not opponents to take lightly.

And yet, alone?

Enkrid did not repeat himself. He simply walked forward.

= = =

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