WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 513: When Someone Like This Wields Will

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"This is a little strange."

Rem waggled his axe as he said it. The purpose of the sparring had been clear, so there was no need to keep going. They had just traded blows without stopping, never bothering to decide a winner, and then it was over.

Everyone who had squabbled over their turn to spar shared Rem's intention, so they all felt the same thing.

Not exhausted yet?

Jaxon kept the thought to himself.

"You should be tired by now."

What Ragna said meant the same thing.

When you awaken Will and first manage to circulate it through your body, the very first thing you feel is omnipotence.

The sensation that you can do anything. Literally anything.

At its most extreme, people reported feeling as though they could reach up, grab a fistful of cloud, and shape it into a sword right then and there.

Obviously that was absurd, obviously impossible, but in the moment it felt like it could be done.

That sense that anything is within reach, that intoxication of omnipotence, left a person more elated than any drug, several times over.

That elation brought action, and action brought careless overuse of Will. You moved and moved, high on it, not even noticing you were burning out.

Part of that process was learning the difference between what Will could do and what it could not. On that front, at least, Enkrid had made the distinction.

Oh, this works. That doesn't.

You have to actually walk up and get within sword range before you can cut a throat.

Waving your hand from a distance won't fell a tree.

Like a newborn learning to walk, that was the process of mastering how to handle omnipotence.

But setting all that aside, what happened when you overused Will?

Exhaustion. The energy drained out of you completely and you crumpled. If you kept forcing yourself to move even then, your body broke down.

You would recover in time, naturally, but if someone kept pushing you to burn through everything and collapse over and over, they could not only shorten that recovery window, they could help you calibrate it so the damage left nothing permanent on your body or your mind.

He had not thought it would come to that, though.

Rem scratched his cheek.

Still, was this not a little too odd?

Ragna and Jaxon had both competed for this first spar specifically to help manage the exhaustion. That was even why Jaxon, unusually, had stepped forward to spar at all.

This was the moment to get Will under control. Who would not want to guide someone through that?

There had been a reason all three went so far as to roll dice over it.

And yet.

"I'm still fine."

Enkrid was drenched in sweat, but his energy had not dropped at all. He was exactly the same as when they started.

"It really is strange."

Rem said it again. Audin only chuckled.

He had gone through it himself the day before, so this was expected. Those three had deliberately avoided watching Enkrid move ahead of time, not wanting to spoil the fun of sparring him. That was why they were surprised.

Enkrid stood there completely unfazed. He should have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.

"Well, I mean, let's move on."

Rem dusted off his hands. This was not a problem thinking would solve.

There were all kinds of things in the world, and anything could happen. Rem knew that too well to argue with it.

Ragna and Jaxon felt the same.

Rem let it go and thought about what came next.

If bringing on exhaustion was off the table, what was next?

Refinement.

Once you climbed to the level where you could handle Will comfortably, something more detailed emerged within that space. You could push Will to a sharper edge, or swing it the other way and make it heavier.

Sorcery was no different, so Rem knew this territory well. For him it was sorcery power and the strength of spirits standing in place of Will, and he used it in a somewhat different manner, but the underlying shape was similar.

Still, this part was a little vague. Hard to put into words.

For someone who had just become a knight, Enkrid was a bit blunt about it.

His sword-handling skill and instinct, his courage, those had grown by a wide margin, unmistakably. But the way he used Will was clumsy. If anything, it felt heavier and duller than before.

That did not mean his ability had regressed, but still.

Which meant there was no single defining characteristic to point at. Stronger, faster reactions? Sure. A bit rough and messy on top of that? The most notable thing was that he did not tire.

The rough and messy part was how it looked from Rem's perspective. Ropord or Fell would have no idea what he was talking about.

That was how large the gap between Enkrid and the two of them had grown.

So what do you do when it is clumsy? A little rough? Messy?

Did it matter?

It did not.

No one could say where things would go from here. No one.

Even so, no one thought this was a bad thing.

Only, Ruagarne included, everyone had wondered something similar before, at one point or another.

What would happen if someone like this became a knight?

If the size of his Will grew in proportion to the vows he kept.

If the weight of those vows was a tower reaching the sky, what would the Will on the other side of that-that formless force, amount to?

The answer was right here.

No one could measure it.

There was no set road ahead of Enkrid.

"Face the boundlessness. What stands before you is not a wall, but an open plain with nothing in the way."

Someone seemed to be saying that.

Was that right? Enkrid had stepped into unknown terrain. He had just taken his first step. Was it the right direction? He did not know. Did that mean standing before a boundlessness he could not navigate? No.

Enkrid smiled. What lay before him was not a wasteland without a signpost, but a wide road that had no need for one.

So he just had to walk.

That was why he smiled.

"Well, it's good to see you smiling."

Rem smiled too.

Jaxon showed a faint smile, and Ragna broke into a grin.

More skill is going to be needed.

One round of sparring and Enkrid already had a sense of what he needed to do next. Something that would have been unimaginable before.

He used to swing the sword aimlessly because he did not know what to do. He had climbed steep mountains barehanded once, thinking it would build his grip strength.

He was not saying none of that helped, but he had not done any of it knowing why. That was why he used to wrap up Krona and go hunting for a sword instructor.

Enkrid was not denying the road he had walked, or the time that had passed.

He simply recognized that he was no longer at the level where he needed an instructor the way he once had.

The knack for wielding Will.

Put into words, it was like a new sense organ had appeared and he was in the process of learning to use it. For most people that process was not especially difficult, but for Enkrid it had become something harder.

That was because his Will was too vast. His vessel was simply different. So it would not happen overnight. He already knew that. It did not matter.

"Hh."

Sunlight fell on him and sweat ran, and the wind that came through picked up the heat and carried it off.

"Mind if I ask for your impressions? My fiancé?"

Sinar had come up without him noticing and asked.

Enkrid's gaze settled on the elf.

With her came the memory of her arm scattering like dust.

She was not the only one.

He remembered Rem, with more lines in his face than before.

He remembered Jaxon watching him with a twisted expression.

Ragna standing there staring at him blankly.

Audin, blood pouring from every opening in his face, eyes, nose, mouth, light blazing out of him.

Memories only he carried. Those faces, those expressions, those moments.

"It took longer than it should have, thanks to a bunch of slow ones, but, it feels good."

He said it while turning his gaze to Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, and Audin. Ropord and Fell were elsewhere.

Esther stood to one side, and Odd-Eye was there too.

Enkrid's gaze swept over them both.

Everyone's eyes were on him.

It was an absurd joke.

He was here because of them. He knew that and was not pretending otherwise. That was what he meant.

Sinar showed a rare, faint smile.

Enkrid's smile, never hiding how happy and glad he was, was simply a pleasure to look at.

"Oh, get out of here."

Rem snorted a laugh. Audin broke into prayer, Jaxon breathed out a short dry laugh, and Ragna picked up his sword. It was his turn next.

Enkrid settled back into his stance.

No exhaustion. No fatigue. Not drunk on omnipotence.

The rough edges of his fighting style were something time would sort out.

Ragna just wanted to fight.

Watching was not enough.

Jaxon stepped back and fell into thought.

Difficult to deal with.

You could find a gap and land a wound. Poison could tilt things in your favor.

Only, both were uncomfortable to use in sparring. Against a savage opponent he would have no problem going straight to those techniques, but here.

Most of Jaxon's techniques were awkward in sparring to begin with.

That was why he stepped back. He had already seen there was no exhaustion to bleed off, so there was no point forcing a spar to drain him.

He had only stepped in because it seemed right to handle it himself rather than leaving it to the barbarian or the directionally-impaired bastard. That was all.

Thinking that, Jaxon split his two daggers between his hands and got in line.

His actions were the opposite of his thoughts.

"My turn next."

His words were too.

Watching their captain had a way of stirring heat even in an assassin's cold heart.

Enkrid was still smiling. More precisely, it was a smile full of anticipation.

No one would know.

There had been a time when Enkrid watched Rem and Ragna spar and dreamed of standing in that same spot himself.

And that dream had been fulfilled here, perfectly, right now.

He raised Aker and took his stance.

, Hey, this one's actually pretty good.

It was the influence of Will circulating through the blade. The sword had drunk in the Will and passed along a thought. The hum of the blade's vibration turned into words and moved through his head.

Enkrid ignored it and focused.

Then Black Lightning fell without a sound from above.

Even with Future Sight carrying him beyond five senses into a sixth, seeing it and the blade arriving were simultaneous.

Enkrid's Aker blazed white and rose to meet it.

Chlank!

The two swords met, locked, and split apart.

A few exchanges, footwork, everything at a knight's level.

Ragna won the spar.

After Ragna came Jaxon, and that one ended in a draw. Jaxon was the first to dust off his hands and pull back, and Enkrid acknowledged to himself that catching Jaxon's footwork was not going to be easy.

Whether Ragna or Jaxon would have won if things had gone all the way to the end, no one could say.

Rem picked his axe back up and came at him again.

The sparring went on until the sun went down, and through all of it, Enkrid's Will did not run dry once.

"You've turned into a monster."

Rem's words were the right ones. Everyone nodded in agreement.

Among them, Ruagarne was gurgling and letting oil seep freely from her body. She was moved that deeply.

* * *

"I trust you."

The owner of the throne sat above three steps on a red carpet trimmed with gold thread on both sides, and spoke.

The man standing before him raised his head from a deep bow and answered.

"I will reclaim the lands of Azpen that were taken unjustly."

The man's nose was black, his ears like a wolf's, and the shape of his pupils entirely unlike a human's. He was a wolf Beastfolk, so that was only natural.

"Then go."

The wolf Beastfolk general turned.

He had once been honored with the title of Guardian Deity of Azpen, but had long since been pushed aside to a minor post. The old general walked out of the great hall, and two humans and a Frog were waiting for him outside.

"And Abnaier?"

The wolf Beastfolk asked the moment he was through the door. Something was clearly bothering him, he gave a rough snort.

He had left the great hall, but the throne was only a single door away, and still he spoke without restraint.

Those who knew his nature said nothing. Even the attendants paid no attention to him.

"It would be better to refrain from speaking that name within the royal palace."

The one who answered was a neatly dressed man. He held a knight's rank, but he knew better than to be reckless with the Beastfolk before him, so his manner was thoroughly respectful.

Were all knights the same? Hardly.

A knight of Azpen, the one who had once gifted a sword blow to Enkrid and Ragna and a few others, understood that well enough.

"If you were going to throw honor and all that behind you anyway, why not just kill him when you had the chance?"

The Beastfolk growled the words. Did he actually mean it? Half right, half wrong. He was not telling the man to do it. He was criticizing him for leaving that act as a smudge on his conscience, something unresolved, when if he had done it, he should at least have been able to stand tall inside himself.

"Because of the vow..."

"You are going to die from excuses and pretexts. Were you not taught that a knight who fails to uphold honor leaves a stain on his own heart, and that stain is what destroys him? Am I too old to remember it right? Hm?"

The Beastfolk cut him off and launched into a full lecture. The man felt a flash of anger, but said nothing back.

Answering a teacher who was already complaining about excuses would only bring more of the same.

And excuse? It was not an excuse. It was a fact. The vow had left him no choice.

Whatever happened with honor, his sword would not grow weaker. His blade had a clear identity.

The man stayed quiet, but the wolf Beastfolk read enough of his mind anyway.

"Tch."

Not satisfied, the Beastfolk clicked his tongue and shifted his gaze to the next person.

"Don't push yourself too hard. Fighting drunk on omnipotence will get you killed. There are plenty of fighters in this world."

"Yes."

He would answer, but he would not agree. That kind of man. Even now confidence was spilling out of him. Carrying that kind of will meant the Will built from it drifted faintly around him. A man who could not even keep his own Will in check. Tch.

Last was the Frog.

The same one who had once kicked Enkrid in the ribs.

"Ready?"

The wolf Beastfolk asked with a tilt of his head, and the Frog nodded.

"More or less done."

Going one on one against a knight would be a stretch, but if this was a war rather than a duel, it would not matter if the other side had knights.

Battle and war were very different things.

Completely different.

The wolf Beastfolk understood that gap well.

Which was why he would not be the one to discuss strategy and tactics, and for that purpose, Abnaier was needed.

A friend who had once been called a genius strategist.

Kill him as the man responsible for a defeat?

That was what people said, those who disliked Abnaier's noble blood, the so-called aristocrats. That attitude was a sickness at that point. Why kill talent like that, those lunatics. The Beastfolk general had publicly requested his execution and then quietly folded Abnaier into his own command.

Abnaier had, even after all his preparations, gone into seclusion claiming he could not kill one human, but a few firm strikes had brought him crawling back out.

Hmph.

The wolf Beastfolk let out one more breath through his nose.

The breath was strong enough to stir the edge of a curtain over a nearby window.

"Let's move."

The Beastfolk went first, and two humans and a Frog followed.

Long strides, and the group matched his pace behind him.

The royal palace corridor was wide enough for five people to stand abreast with room to spare, but with these four walking it, the corridor looked narrow.

Outside, two more lieutenants were waiting. Under clear sunlight, both bowed their heads in greeting.

These two were also knights.

So, setting the Frog aside and counting the Beastfolk himself, there were four knights in all.

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