WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 505: Deep Night, and Rain Falls

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Enkrid nodded. He had not prepared any of it as gifts, but somehow Ragna had ended up with nothing.

Krais had figured the jeweled scabbard, and the merchant company that would come with it, counted as his gift.

Esther, who had been sitting to one side like a painting, held up one of the things Enkrid had given her. It looked like a Magic Beast fang.

"Received."

No one had asked, but she said it anyway. Right on cue, Sinar stepped into the barracks.

"Mind if I take the dagger you gave me as an engagement gift?"

She said it with an elf's sense of humor.

When you thought about it, Ropord and Fell had not gotten anything either, so Ragna was not exactly bitter.

"Get out here, you savage. I'll take your head off."

He simply figured the savage bastard had clearly meddled somewhere along the way.

Whether he became a knight or not, feeling sour was feeling sour.

Swinging a sword well did not make a person a sage or a saint.

"Fine, come at me."

Neither of them actually went outside. It was just the usual back-and-forth.

"Where've you been, anyway?"

Enkrid tossed the question out to change the subject, and Ragna pulled his eyes off Rem to answer. He genuinely was not bitter, so his tone was even.

"Just went to get some air. Spotted Odd-Eye wandering around lost on the way back and brought him along."

"Who brought who?"

Rem snorted from beside him. Ruagarne nodded. Rem had it right.

Jaxon said nothing, and Audin was still in prayer. Krais seemed to have grown drowsy and only yawned.

It was peaceful. Rain poured down in a steady rush outside, and Enkrid brought out the question he had been waiting to ask once everyone was together.

"If you were dropped in the middle of a desert, how would you get out?"

It was not a simple question. What would a knight do if their physical capabilities were stripped away?

Enkrid had made it out of the desert, but he figured luck had played a hand. So if you removed luck from the equation, how would you get out?

He had been curious since the moment he woke up after escaping the desert. Unlike him, what would these people do?

Ragna answered first. Finding his way around was Ragna's specialty.

"I would read the stars and find my direction."

The world's greatest lie, but not technically wrong.

"That's a disease you have, you bastard. And it wouldn't work. The sky was completely blocked out over that land."

Rem added that, and Enkrid nodded. Ragna continued, unfazed.

"Then I'd find it by instinct."

Absurd. Enkrid had not expected much from Ragna to begin with. Rem muttered something about a crazy directionally-impaired bastard, then gave his own answer.

"Pick a direction and keep walking. Every place has an end to it."

It was the kind of thing said by someone who had a rough sense of how deserts worked. A desert was not some legendary labyrinth, it was just land. So you endured and kept moving.

Besides, if things went bad, he had already been planning to go find Enkrid. The Bird of Longing would point him in the right direction, and he would head that way.

"At my level I could last a month without eating or drinking, but honestly there's no need. I'd just run."

It was something possible because of his Sorcery. That was what lay beneath Rem's words. Calling the velopter spirit through divine descent, he could run for days on end.

Next was Audin.

"I would ask God and listen for the answer."

Audin carried a divine nature, and that divinity had shown miracles, healing the bodies of ordinary people. For someone who bore divine nature, miracles were everyday things.

So asking God and receiving an answer might sound like nonsense to anyone else, but to Audin it was completely sincere.

If something like that happened, God would grant a revelation.

Enkrid listened to Audin speak and understood that he meant every word of it.

Jaxon answered with a question instead.

"You said you could not find your bearings no matter what you tried. Was that truly the case?"

You could not undo the past. But by turning things over in your mind, you could avoid making the same mistake again.

That was what Enkrid had meant by asking. Beyond that, he had also wanted a glimpse into how these people thought.

Jaxon had zeroed in on exactly that point.

Was that really the best you could do?

Jaxon sat in his chair with his legs crossed and spoke.

Rain had darkened the sky, but the fire burning at the center of the barracks was more than enough to light the space. Without anyone quite noticing, everyone had drawn in closer around the flame.

"Did you hear anything? The sound of the wind? What was the wind like in the West?"

Rem heard that and thought, sure enough, that was the sly wildcat for you. Even in the desert, the West had its guides, people who moved through it like they owned the place.

Rare, but they existed.

That said, they had no particular skill for tracking people through the desert.

If they could have walked in and out of the desert like it was their own home, Rem would have persuaded them with a fist of longing rather than a Bird of Longing.

It was not possible, so he had let it go.

Those desert guides always said the same thing: they walked by following the wind's path.

It was something only possible for those born with a sixth sense, something that went beyond sharp ordinary instincts.

"The direction the wind blows, the smell, all of it becomes a trail and a clue. You cannot get lost."

Jaxon could find his way even through a labyrinth. His senses were not rattled by ordinary spells or Sorcery.

The detection ability born from Will was one of the weapons that had brought Jaxon to where he stood today.

He had not won the title of Master of Georg's Blade and the name Lord of the Morning Dew by playing card games.

"Interesting subject."

Sinar joined in. She knew the desert, it was the opposite of a forest. But did that mean the land had no spiritual energy?

Working with spiritual energy meant seeing spirits.

Sinar was born with the talent to receive the blessing of that energy. There had to be spirits in the desert too. Or at least traces of their presence.

"A desert doesn't mean there's no spiritual energy. I'd walk by reading the paths of it."

"But do we really have to get lost in a desert in the first place? I think I'd just make sure that never happened."

"Stop talking nonsense. The premise of the question is that you've already entered the desert."

The moment Sinar finished, Ropord cut in, and Fell shot back at that. Ropord smiled as he spoke, though somehow it looked a little stiff.

"Right, so I make sure it never happens."

"Which means the premise is flawed. Shepherds of the Wilderness don't get lost, so we'd get out somehow. And I always carry a few days' worth of food on me."

"I'm saying you just don't go in to begin with."

Ropord said it again, and this time he was not smiling.

"That's stupid."

Fell crossed his arms and said it.

"Want me to smash your face in?"

"The Idol Slayer doesn't pick and choose. You know that, right?"

"As long as I never get near it, I'm fine. Sounds easy."

When had it started?

It might have been after the crack formed in Fell. He and Ropord did not get along.

It looked a lot like the early days of the mad squad.

Perhaps it was because the two of them pointed in different directions.

Ropord thought calculating the odds was what mattered, while Fell leaned toward trusting the judgment of the moment.

Their views on swordsmanship were different, and skill would be the argument that backed up each position.

On top of that, Fell of the Shepherds did not know how to choose his words, and Ropord had never quite learned how to handle someone from outside a knightly order who lacked manners. For one reason and another, the two of them had come to genuinely dislike each other.

Enkrid watched them for a moment, then spoke.

"Enough."

One word was enough. Both of them cooled off. They did not even glare at each other. In that way, at least, the two were alike.

No point wasting energy on something useless.

Fell pushed down whatever had been simmering inside him. The crack in his mind was the crack, and the crumbling was the crumbling, but still, he wanted to smack the head off this bastard Ropord who had learned nothing but pretty swordsmanship.

Nothing stopping him. Catching up to a bastard who had gotten lucky and stepped one move ahead was nothing.

Ropord felt much the same.

That bastard had no manners. He did not know how to respect others. He needed educating.

If he wanted to win in a fight, he could just live like Enkrid every single day. Ragna was back now too, so there would be more chances to spar and learn the sword.

Ropord had already completely forgotten about going back to his knightly order.

Watching the two of them, Enkrid thought how nice it would be if Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon listened this well.

He knew better, of course.

He had asked his question and gotten his answers. Enkrid understood now that everyone thought differently.

Some pushed straight through by brute force. Others used whatever ability they had.

Could I have smelled the wind, too?

Jaxon had said that if you could not hear, you could at least try to smell.

He could not see spiritual energy or spirits the way Sinar could, but had there really been nothing at all brushing against his sixth sense? He was not sure.

There might have been something.

"Knowing it ahead of time, studying it, that would have helped."

Ruagarne had said that partway through, and she was right. Knowledge becomes strength. Enkrid organized his thoughts.

Everything these people had said was useful. His thoughts kept moving and led him back to the soldier who had rushed at him the moment he arrived at the barracks.

A soldier whose name he had not known. Marco.

He used Will.

What kind?

The soldier had steeled his own spirit by refusing to step back.

He had sharpened his resolve by warning his opponent, and he had tried to seize the psychological upper hand by opening with what he was most confident in.

It did not have to end in one thrust. But he could burn into his opponent's mind just how sharp his spear was.

The first strike would be the strongest, the fiercest attack.

The warning, the thrust, his stance, his attitude.

All of it was tactics.

Everyone had their own tactics, and Enkrid found things to learn from each one.

"There is no single method."

Enkrid murmured it to himself.

"When Will is full, it changes what the body can do."

What Ragna had said was also true.

After the final step in the desert, every step he had taken since carried Will in it, and that was what had made it possible.

Enkrid sorted through his thoughts and etched each thing he had gained. The King of the East, mercenary king Anu, had told him to experience as much as he could.

Why? Everything Enkrid had seen and lived through showed him differences. Was that all he saw? He saw common threads too.

What he had understood coming out of the desert, what he knew now, what he had drawn out through questions.

It felt like moonlight. That was how it seemed to him. Visible like moonlight but impossible to hold. There were still pieces he was missing. They would not come from forcing it right now. So there was no need to rush.

"Now that we're all here, tell us a story, dear fiancé."

Sinar pulled one knee up onto her chair and hugged it to her chest as she spoke, and Enkrid looked up.

"What on earth have you been doing that words like savior of a city and pioneer of the West are going around?"

She said it again. Her expression was far more relaxed than usual, at least, that was how it looked to Enkrid.

Enkrid had not realized it, but the things he had done had given rise to a few nicknames here and there.

Nothing he could not share, so Enkrid started talking.

How he had gone from Demon Slayer to savior of a city and pioneer of the West.

He told it well. Everyone listening found themselves swallowing hard without realizing it, fully absorbed.

"Why didn't you become a traveling bard instead of a knight?"

Krais said it like the thought had just struck him.

"Not bad."

Ruagarne puffed out her cheek and said that too. It was something she had lived through herself, but hearing it from Enkrid's mouth made it somehow more interesting.

Not that he was anything like the continent's greatest traveling bard, his way with words was poor enough, setting Krais aside.

Krais had chimed in at just the right moments, which had made the story richer than it might have been.

Of course, what surprised everyone most was the story about Rem's wife and child.

"Garbage."

Krais's interjection was perfectly timed.

Many children had been abandoned by their parents when they were young. Krais was one of them, and he despised parents who threw their children away.

"You want to die?"

"Leaving behind a wife and child..."

"Arath is a strong woman. And she has things she wants too."

The truth was that Arath had pushed Rem to leave. She was a remarkable woman who knew how to cheer on someone with a big dream.

"Marriage? Did you threaten someone?"

Ragna asked, and Jaxon answered by swinging his axe.

Jaxon dug a finger in his ear a few times. He felt like he might have heard wrong.

An axe came flying his way too, but he dodged it easily enough.

Audin offered a blessing prayer.

"It is said that even a wingless bat finds its match, so God shall surely look upon this with favor."

The blessing sounded like it had a personal opinion mixed in.

"What kind of blessing is that?"

That was why Rem had flailed in the middle of it. They talked until dawn. Sinar, out of character, shared a story about wandering through a forest of spiritual energy, and it ended at a labyrinth made by a demon.

"If you fall in there, you die. Every last one of them died."

It had clearly started as a warm, gentle forest story.

Looking at it that way, Sinar's talent for telling stories was not much better than anyone else's.

Audin told the story of Teresa finding her way to God.

Teresa could not forget the past, but she had learned to look toward tomorrow instead of yesterday.

She had been looking at Enkrid as she said it, and the gaze carried real heat. It was not romantic longing, more like gratitude mixed with a competitive edge toward the one who had taught her something.

"Any Cultist you see, you kill on sight. That's the right answer."

Ruagarne said that.

Ropord and Fell ended up speaking too, somehow.

Fell talked about the Shepherds of the Wilderness, and Ropord said that even after joining a knightly order you rarely got to see an actual knight, then looked around the room.

As it happened, there were three people here who fought at a knight's level.

Jaxon talked about the Carmen Collection, and even though the air still carried leftover heat, it was a story that sent a chill down the spine.

It was the story of one person's desperate, all-consuming revenge.

Jaxon spoke with more clarity and order than you might have expected, though. He simply did not talk often, but when he did, he did it well.

"Walked around and cut a few people who could handle a sword."

Ragna summed up his story of getting lost in one line. Beyond that, training, sleeping, and lazing around was all there had been, there was nothing much to say.

The reason he had even gone out on that walk was because Enkrid was not around.

He had felt his drive going dim and fading, so he had forced himself out the door to find some spark.

"Is he out of his mind?"

Rem threw in the comment, and this time Ragna threw a fist instead of an axe.

Rem did not get hit, naturally. He tilted his head and dodged, then started throwing his own punches from where he sat.

Audin, who had somehow ended up sitting between them, held both of them back from his seat. With his hands, of course.

Whatever the level, knight or otherwise, a Master of close combat was something else entirely.

Somewhere between laughing and talking, a few soldiers came in carrying several bottles of drink and some food.

Krais had ordered it. Everyone ate and drank. An impromptu gathering, almost like a company dinner.

Enkrid felt, somehow, that now he had truly come home.

Pointless jokes, stories, each person's own words.

They talked through all of it as the night deepened.

The bickering stopped at some point too. Now it was just real talk.

"A Balrok, huh. A difficult opponent."

Ragna said something like that partway through. It was after hearing about Aoara. The assumption, taken for granted, was that Enkrid would naturally go to kill the Balrok.

No one told him to give it up. No one said it was dangerous.

If it was something to be done, it would be done. Every last one of them thought the same.

"Not right now."

Enkrid said that back.

Krais let out a sigh in the middle of it all.

"Will someone please try to stop him. A Balrok."

Was that not the kind of Demon Creature whose name an ordinary person would never even hear in their lifetime?

What? It swings a flame whip and a sword wreathed in fire?

The Gnoll god hiding inside the Cursed Ground.

Stories of the Cursed Ground Holy Sect, stories of childhood, Jiba and Jiba's mother met in the West, and the man who loved her.

Fragments of what Aoara had left behind.

Those were the things that passed between them through the night.

Deep into the night, rain fell, cups went around, and the burning fire chased away just enough of the damp.

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