WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 539: The Knight Who Cuts Down a Thousand

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"Pathetic wretch. Go crawl off and die somewhere. Come back on your own, even if you have to drag yourself."

They had gathered as if by prior arrangement, and Rem was driving Ragna into a corner with his tongue instead of his axe.

"Kh-hgh."

Ragna had been about to say something, but coughed, raised his hand, and answered by extending his middle finger, returning the insult in the continent's oldest tradition. Rem nodded as though his mind was made up.

"Captain, now's the time. Lop his head off. We could get a clean snip without much trouble."

He mimed chopping at his own neck with a Hand Blade as he said it.

Taken at face value, it almost sounded like Enkrid and Rem had agreed in advance that they would absolutely kill Ragna.

The moment Rem showed up, he had started insulting Ragna without even asking what happened, so Enkrid asked how things had gone on that side. Rem said he had let one of the two knights escape. Jaxon heard that and snickered, making sure the air-leaking sound was loud enough for everyone to catch. The intent to mock was plain. Enkrid could have bet at least a finger on it, if not a wrist.

"Let's kill that one too."

Rem was urging Enkrid to kill them all, but of course no one was going to listen to that.

"Finn, go ahead and report the situation. We'll join the main force from here."

"Yes, sir!"

Finn had only been half listening to what they were saying, and she had forgotten all her questions about Jaxon's unsettling nature and the current circumstances.

Why? Because the people in front of her were writing legend as she watched.

This might have been the kind of moment where a legend is born.

Barnaas Hurrier was a knight whose name she had heard before, and they were saying Ragna had cut him down alone.

Cyprus of Naurillia. Barnaas of Azpen. Even twenty years ago, talking about the military power of either kingdom without mentioning those two names had been pointless.

When Finn had set out on her scouting mission, she had known that Knight Barnaas might appear on the battlefield where they were stationed. That did not mean she had felt defeat coming.

There might be a chance if luck holds and at least two of these mad knights are thrown at him together.

That was the kind of thought she had entertained, since gauging knight-level fighting power was beyond her eye to judge. But they were saying Ragna had cut him down alone. He was gravely wounded, but this side had won.

The evidence was right there in front of Finn's eyes, in the form of a corpse.

Even without the insignia of the Royal King's Knights of Azpen carved into the equipment wrapped around the body, the cratered earth and blood-soaked ground made it easy to piece together that a brutal, vicious fight had taken place.

Monster.

The man called Ragna was a monster. Jaxon was the same. Every last one of them.

"I can still fight."

And on top of that, they were all insane. Just look at what he was saying right now.

"Barbarian, come at me."

He had spat blood from damaged organs, and those were the two sentences he managed.

"Tch. I let you off easy, you little shit."

Was it lucky that the equally deranged Rem did not swing his axe?

Or was it because Enkrid had quietly positioned himself between the two of them?

Killing Barnaas alone was already remarkable, but Barnaas had not been the only one Azpen sent. There was a man who had cut through the elf warrior company alone, slaughtering them nearly to the last. Rem, too, had faced two knights. And Enkrid himself, who led all of them, had cut down one knight as well.

These were people who joked freely but never told outright lies.

Everything they said so casually was the truth.

Finn heard Enkrid's order and moved out ahead.

They had used every method available to prevent an all-out battle, but to truly stop the fighting, the presence of these people would be needed. So Finn pushed her fatigue to the back of her mind and moved her feet as fast as they would go.

With Finn and her soldiers gone, Enkrid pointed out the route cutting across the mountain range and said, "We join the main force."

* * *

Enkrid suggested taking a slightly rougher path back to the main force. His reason was simply that. If anyone had asked, that was the only answer he could have given, it had come from instinct.

Getting back quickly was fine, but going straight down across the mountain range by the shortest route?

"He needs treatment."

Sinar said it. She did not need to say who.

Rem and Jaxon both glanced in the same direction.

"A burden," Jaxon muttered.

"What if we bury him and come back to dig him up tomorrow?"

Rem picked that up.

In moments like this, the two of them seemed to be on a surprisingly similar wavelength.

What would it look like if those two actually joined forces in real combat? If Rem fought with merciless instinct, Jaxon had the talent to fill the gaps by feel. In a way, they might even complement each other.

"That look in your eyes again, full of suspicious thoughts."

"An unpleasant gaze," the other added.

Both of them, quick on the uptake, answered at the same time.

Enkrid's gaze shifted to Ragna, who said, "A little spit and I'll be fine."

His knee, his shoulder, his organs were somewhat damaged, and one eye was hurt too.

If injuries that bad could be cured with a bit of spit, then divinity would be worthless in this world. Healers could throw down their books right now and wander around spitting on people.

"Get on my back."

Enkrid crouched down in front of Ragna and said it.

"Do you really have to?"

Sinar watched and asked. She saw no particular rush.

"No harm in getting back faster," Enkrid answered flatly.

"Really have to?"

"Absolutely have to?"

Rem and Jaxon each added a word and clicked their tongues at the injured Ragna.

Tch.

"I see now that cutting those two down and burying my sword here would be the righteous path for the peace of the continent."

Ragna said it, furious, but he was not exactly in a position to come at them physically right now.

"Get on."

What could he do.

Enkrid was the kind of person who pushed until things happened.

Sinar lifted Ragna and set him on Enkrid's back, and Enkrid carried him down the mountain.

The Pen-Hanil Mountain Range was said to be dangerous, but not for these people.

"The one who got away?"

Enkrid asked as they descended.

"Hff."

Jaxon exhaled reflexively. Rem shot him a look, then answered.

"Well, he probably shriveled up good and scurried back to the main force, don't you think?"

Enkrid did not ask what specifically had shriveled up, but he heard Sinar murmur from behind, "His balls, I'd wager."

It was an elf-style variant of a joke, said just loud enough to be heard while watching for his reaction. She had meant to catch him off guard, but Enkrid did not react.

He had simply heard something land oddly on his ears. There was only one reason he had caught it before the elf did, he had been activating Will by instinct and sharpening his hearing.

"Jaxon."

"I'm already moving."

The rumble of the earth rolling across the mountain range, the tremor in the air, distant battle cries.

He had heard those things, and Jaxon shot forward.

His figure slipped between the trees and vanished.

They had nearly finished cutting straight through the mountain range.

Rem exhaled through his nose and said, "I'll clear the path."

The smell of Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts drifted in from the surrounding area. Rem stepped off to the side and started swinging his axe.

Thwack, thunk, crack!

The sounds of bone and muscle splitting, cleaving, and shattering rang in Enkrid's ears.

Sinar stopped mid-run and narrowed her eyes.

The sun was dipping toward the west. The sunset was not quite visible yet, but the falling sun was stretching shadows long across the ground.

When they came down out of the mountain range, the situation came into view.

Uwaaaah!

Enemy soldiers were charging.

Sinar could see plainly what was about to happen.

Blood would pool, and then it would run. Across a battlefield where thousands would die, blood would carve a stream and become a river.

Once the charge was launched, a battlefield needed madness.

Azpen was filling the collapse in morale with exactly that.

"Iяa-ho!"

Leading the charge was a Beastfolk assault unit, absorbed from beyond Azpen's northern border as part of the racial integration policy.

On the allied side, no one charged to meet them.

Even so, the two forces meeting was a foregone conclusion, as unchangeable as the flow of time itself, like tomorrow following today, one of those immovable laws.

Enkrid set Ragna down.

"You're at the foot of the mountain. No Demon Creatures here, so hold on."

"You'll need my sword."

"No. Stay put. I'll come back for you."

Enkrid said it and looked forward.

Why were the enemy suddenly charging head-on?

He did not know. He did not need to.

No one had ordered this, and no answer had been decided in advance, but Enkrid knew what he had to do.

"Sinar!"

He shouted and kicked off the slope, dropping down in sharp bounds, each one faster than the last.

Boom! Boom!

Holding nothing back, the earth tore open wherever his feet landed, dirt and stone shooting up like fountains.

A brutal, fearless charge, visible to anyone watching as a monster far beyond human limits closing in fast.

Sinar kept pace right behind him, nimble and quick. Then Rem fell in too, having made short work of a few Demon Creature and Magic Beast skulls on the way.

"Jaxon!"

"Too slow!"

Enkrid called the name and Jaxon's answer came back. He had only called the name, but Jaxon knew the meaning behind it.

It was an answer to the question of whether he could hold.

Running, Enkrid asked himself a question. In the brief span between his left foot leaving the ground and touching it again, blood rushed to his head and thought accelerated.

Is there a way to stop a charging army?

With equal numbers, yes. With fewer, possibly, depending on their training.

But any of those options meant an enormous number of people dying.

What other way is there?

What about overwhelming violence?

A knight is a monster capable of cutting down a thousand alone. What if there were not one but three such monsters?

It could serve as a deterrent.

This course of action had not come from calculation.

All Enkrid could see were the people who were about to die for nothing.

This was a battle where nothing remained but slaughter, stripped of honor, prestige, and glory.

Only the song of steel would greet them, and at the end of it, they would be left drowning in the Black River.

Those who worshipped death might welcome a slaughter like this.

But Enkrid did not.

The reason for killing and being killed was to decide who won and who lost, and this was nothing more than meaningless death.

The war was already over.

Then no matter where this had started, he would stop it.

Will became conviction, conviction became force, and it burned through his body. Enkrid felt his Will boiling over.

"Audin!"

He shouted, but the Will swelling inside him did not burst free with the cry. In the chaos around them, it was hard for Audin to pick out Enkrid's voice.

Enkrid drew another breath. Then he poured conviction into the rising Will and shouted.

Ring out. Reach every ear.

"Au-din!"

What skill lacks, volume can make up for. Enkrid poured out his overflowing Will.

It was as if thunder itself carried the name.

He threw those three syllables out, and the owner of those three syllables came bursting from one side.

"Yes, brother! Audin is here!"

"Hold them!"

Enkrid's eyes found what looked like glowing points of light. They shone across the battlefield in several places.

They were not actually glowing. It was his instinct responding to the boiling Will, showing him something. Showing him what? The points that had to be held.

First: the far right edge of the battlefield, the gap between the two spots where the armies were about to meet. That was the place Enkrid pointed toward.

"Teresa, help him!"

At the word, Audin and Teresa moved to hold that point.

What would they do, and how?

What was needed was overwhelming force.

Audin suppressed the urge to awaken his divinity, clenched his fist, and drove it forward.

Boom!

No one standing right there could look away from something like that. With brute force, two people went flying through the air.

He could have crushed them if he wanted them dead, but he sent them flying on purpose, to draw eyes.

Audin was answering Enkrid's intent. Teresa beside him did the same. She swung her shield.

The wide sweep sent enemy soldiers flying one after another.

People went sailing like pebbles.

Left unchecked, both armies would have collided in a melee before anyone could count to a hundred.

"Rem!"

"My ears work fine!"

"There!"

Enkrid pointed to another spot, a point forming a line stretching out from Audin's position.

They had to show such overwhelming destructive force that the enemy's feet would stop.

"Right, I see what you're trying to do."

Sharp-eyed Sinar understood a step ahead and ran to where she needed to be, the far end of the battlefield, on the opposite side from Rem, anchoring the flank.

Once Sinar had taken her point, she said, "This is as far as you go. I'll make you shrivel."

A joke even now, but that was Sinar's way of saying she still had room to breathe. She had not been worn to dust, and since Ragna had been the one to face Barnaas, she still had reserves left.

"Jaxon, Ropord, Fell! There!"

Jaxon alone was not well-suited to holding a large army on his own. So Enkrid added two more to hold the line.

Even so, a gaping hole remained across the rest of the front, a hole only Enkrid could see.

A hole where blood would pour through if it was not plugged.

Running and shouting, Enkrid drew a deep breath, pulled it in and let it out to settle his lungs, then stopped.

Allies behind him. Enemies ahead.

Half the ones charging toward him looked puzzled. The other half were just running with their heads down.

This was the moment he was supposed to show them what a knight was.

His plan had been to start from where Audin stood, have the ones capable of cutting down a thousand each hold their spot, grind through the enemy, and bring the charge to a stop.

That was the method for stopping the fight with the fewest casualties.

That had been the plan until a moment ago.

What stops a person in their tracks?

The thought kept moving, and the points of light kept flashing before him. Enkrid made a clear distinction between what he could do and what he could not.

Something he had considered impossible, he now judged he could actually do.

The overflowing Will was giving him a sense of omnipotence.

What stops feet is not violence. It is fear.

If fear was what was needed, then fear was what he would give.

Like breaking a dam and letting the water pour through, Enkrid unleashed his Will, at a glance it looked reckless, without purpose. Overflowing Will. Using that Will as his foundation, he raised a wall at his back. At the same time, he lifted his sword and drew a long line across the earth.

Krrrrrrk!

A long mark was carved into the ground along the blade's path.

Cross this line and you die.

He poured his conviction into that mark. The line drawn in the earth was a declaration of intent.

Flooding out all the Will he had, the Pressure he showed built a wall behind him.

Enkrid's Pressure was something even junior knights could push through if they tried.

So it could not become a deeply carved point on its own.

But it could become a wide surface.

Will and Pressure, working together.

Enkrid had faced walls blocking his path again and again, and because of that, he could show the people standing before him something close to that same wall, that same Pressure.

And not everyone could do what Enkrid did and push through just because they saw a wall.

The madness clouded over.

Feet slowed. Hands dropped.

A wall? There's a wall?

Charge in and you die.

That line must not be crossed.

The formless wall Enkrid had created spread wide and even, casting fear across the enemy.

And the ones who had somehow pushed through the Pressure and kept pressing forward were overwhelmed by the Madman Squad.

"This far, and no further."

Enkrid said it, and a scene like something out of a painting unfolded.

The charging enemy stopped.

"Ah."

Whether it was fear or something else they had seen, the soldiers at the very front collapsed, sitting down hard where they stood.

Not one or two. Dozens, then hundreds, dropping to their knees or crumpling to the ground.

The westward sun gathered its remaining light and fell across Enkrid.

Light poured from the figure of the man standing alone with his sword raised.

In reality, it was only sunlight falling on a single man standing apart from the rest, but because every eye on that battlefield was on him, it was nothing short of miraculous.

There had always been knights who could cut down a thousand alone. But a knight who could stop a thousand alone had never existed until now.

"Enough."

Enkrid said the last word.

The war was over.

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