WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 54: The Turtle and the Frontier Slaughterer (3)

What aim, what purpose, and what goal do you exist for?

A hawk that had been wandering the green plains flew overhead. The hawk's cry echoed between them. It was a not-so-cold winter day. Enkrid, standing by the wall within the unit, responded to the proposal with a question.

Torres paused. He thought for a moment before speaking.

"The soldier ranking system is bullshit, but it did establish one clear standard. What defines a special-rank soldier."

His voice was low, deep, and resonant, like a hymn sung in bass. His thoughts aligned with the question. Torres spoke with sincerity and conviction.

"It means reaching the limits of human potential. Soldiers who carve out time from their sleep and swing their swords until their hands blister even on the battlefield."

Torres reached out and grabbed Enkrid's hand. Enkrid allowed him to take it. Turning Enkrid's palm over, Torres spoke.

"Look."

The calluses were hard and cracked, proof of countless hours of training, evidence of the many days spent swinging a sword.

"There are many who put in this much effort but there are few who are followed by talent. Very few."

Torres shook his head slightly as he spoke. He was right. Because of his lack of talent, Enkrid knew all too well, having scraped and crawled all this time.

"A unit where soldiers who combine effort and talent, reaching the limits of human potential gather. That's the Frontier Slaughterers. If you want to improve your skills, join our unit. It will fill in your shortcomings."

He had asked about their aim, but the answer was about filling in shortcomings. Enkrid found his answer there. Seeing the passion and desire in his eyes, Enkrid spoke.

"I'm sorry."

It was a rejection.

It could have been an excellent opportunity. A path toward a dream he hadn’t forgotten, a dream he couldn’t forget, no matter how torn apart it was.

But Enkrid couldn’t go. The Frontier Slaughterers might be a step up, but the end of those steps wouldn’t lead to the world he wanted.

‘Stopping at the limit isn’t an option.’

Reaching the limit wasn’t enough.

The Frontier Slaughterers, the unit stationed in Border Guard, were the most lethal force. But even the member standing in front of him, glaring, had said it himself. The Frontier Slaughterers were those who reached the limits of human potential. Enkrid’s dream was higher than that.

Of course, thinking one could surpass the limit without even reaching it was arrogance. But it wasn’t an option to stop halfway, predicting he wouldn’t reach his destination.

Enkrid shook his head.

"You know our unit’s specialty?"

They turn regular soldiers into efficient killing machines in a short time.

He knew. There was no mediocre training. They were a group that trained soldiers far beyond the level of regular soldiers.

But the method was the problem. In fact, Enkrid's question had only one implicit inquiry.

Among those in the Frontier Slaughterers, were there any who became knights?

No.

They learned and mastered the most convenient and efficient way to kill. They weren’t called the Frontier Slaughterers for nothing. In terms of swordsmanship, they prioritized tricks and irregular techniques over fundamentals. Tricks and irregular techniques wouldn’t make one a knight.

Knowing that, he couldn’t take that path.

"You're an idiot."

But to others, it might seem this way. Torres relaxed his gaze.

"People say that often."

"Ha, I never thought I’d get rejected by a man. Can I ask why?"

Should he tell? Would it just earn him more ridicule?

Talking about his dream had only ever brought ridicule. Oh, except for one time.

'Crang was serious.'

Other than that, Rem found it a good excuse to tease. No one else reacted well either. A few instructors showed what it meant to look at someone like they were crazy.

"I aim higher than the Frontier Slaughterers."

Even so, Enkrid spoke honestly. There was nothing to hide.

"Higher?"

"I want the Red Cloak."

It didn’t necessarily have to be the Red Cloak. But it was a fitting metaphor.

There was only one knight order in Naurillia. They were the king’s guard, draped in red cloaks like blood, the symbol of Naurillia’s might. They were the only unit allowed to bear the king’s emblem. On their cloaks was the vivid emblem of three crossed swords, the symbol of the kingdom.

The three swords with crossed blades and the mythical beast with a round head and flaming mane, the Sun Beast. These were the symbols of Naurillia.

Becoming a knight. Torres understood enough. And he was bewildered.

"…That's a bit much."

Torres had gauged Enkrid’s skill. It was impressive. For someone who discovered his talent at thirty, it was remarkable.

But that was it.

In fact, his skills were borderline for acceptance into the Frontier Slaughterers. His squad members might have a different reason for their capability.

‘They wouldn't make it either.’

They were problematic. No matter how troublesome, soldiers had to obey commands. They were below standard in that respect. A weapon that harmed its wielder wasn’t a good weapon.

It was something to discard.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course."

He was rejected cleanly. Torres nodded. He didn’t want to crush his dreams.

But this had to be said.

"You'll regret it."

"Maybe."

Enkrid replied sincerely. Not every choice was always right, and he might regret it.

Torres, the platoon leader of the Frontier Slaughterers, didn’t even salute and turned around. He seemed light-hearted rather than sulking. Enkrid watched Torres leave and turned around.

As he walked back to the quarters, he recalled his conversation with Ragna.

"Are you talking about the Red Cloak Knights? Are you curious about how they move like that?"

The shock from seeing a Red Cloak Knight wasn’t small.

What is a knight?

How could they move like that?

It would be a lie to say it didn’t raise questions. Moreover, the knight was only an apprentice knight.

"It’s a bit early to know now."

Ragna had said, and Enkrid waited quietly for his next words. As expected, Ragna continued.

"Knights don’t just use muscle strength. Their bodies harbor a very special power. It’s not the time to discuss it now. Knowing would only be a hindrance."

"Just point me in the right direction. I want to know if I'm on the wrong path."

It might be a demanding request. But as Enkrid’s skills improved, he realized his squad members were no ordinary people.

Among them, he had learned the basics of swordsmanship from Ragna, and he noticed. If there was anyone in the squad closest to being a knight, it was Ragna.

"Fundamentals are a series of simple and straightforward techniques. You’ll know if you fight, but is it quicker to build skills based on the mercenary swordsmanship you learned, or to build skills by honing the basics?"

Why are tricks considered tricks?

Why are irregular techniques irregular?

If it was just about fighting well, Vallen’s mercenary swordsmanship was much better than the basic heavy sword techniques.

"To go further, you must follow the right path. I believe that answers your question."

It was more than enough of an answer.

Swordsmanship advanced through fundamentals. Overcoming numerous obstacles by walking the right path. That was the task at hand.

Enkrid concluded as such.

"Growl."

Entering the quarters, he was greeted by a beast's growl. The place was a mess. The beds were pushed aside, and a table was overturned. Kraiss was sitting with a scratched face, looking miserable.

"Damn, it’s my face."

"Quick reflexes."

“Panther meat isn’t tasty, but it’s still meat."

Ragna and Rem commented as they observed the situation.

It was a beast, a black panther. A young panther with blue eyes, like the one they had fought alongside before. It had disappeared, and he thought he wouldn’t see it again.

But somehow, it had found its way here.

The panther bristled, glaring at Ragna and Rem, but when Enkrid entered, it turned and snuggled into Enkrid’s arms.

Rem scratched his head with his thumb, the axe still in his hand. Had he been a moment late, that axe might have beheaded the panther.

"Is it your pet, Squad Leader?"

"Um, something like that."

Ragna, who had been serious when talking about knights, returned to his lazy self. He sheathed his sword and threw himself on the bed that had been pushed aside. Seeing this, Rem also put down his axe.

"Is it yours? That thing’s quite ferocious."

Kraiss cautiously looked at the panther and asked.

"Did it scratch you?"

"I was just trying to pet its head."

As Kraiss spoke, gesturing to his wounds, Rem laughed.

"He got scratched trying to see if it was a male or female."

"Caak!"

The intelligent panther bared its fangs, as if it understood. Startled, Kraiss stumbled back, tripping over a leather waterskin and falling. Rem burst out laughing at Kraiss, who landed on his rear.

"You okay? Your face?"

Enkrid asked, smiling slightly. Kraiss always boasted that his face was Naurillia’s blessing.

"I’m fine. I’ll just apply some holy treatment or ointment to prevent scars."

Holy treatment for such a minor wound?

Only someone swimming in krona would think of that.

"Sure."

He replied absently, looking at the panther in his arms. The panther, which had been baring its fangs, now raised its head quietly.

It wasn’t as light or small as it seemed, but in his arms, it felt light and small.

"Did you come to visit?"

Enkrid asked. The panther understood. It blinked, let out a small growl, and rubbed its head against Enkrid’s chest. The soft fur felt very pleasant. Rem, watching Enkrid pet the panther, spoke.

"Are you keeping it? It won’t be boring, at least."

Rem, surprisingly, was kind to animals. Ragna and Jaxon showed no interest. Audin, who had returned from duty, also showed no interest. Rem and Kraiss were the only ones still very interested.

"It’s a female."

"Huh?"

"You think I’d just get scratched on the face?"

Kraiss folded his arms and spoke triumphantly.

“Is that so? How impressive.”

"Yeah."

Enkrid replied and began to tidy up. Rem set up the overturned table and sat on it, asking,

"Now that you’re a high-rank soldier, it seems everyone’s after you. How do you feel? The Frontier Slaughterers don’t seem like a bad option."

Enkrid sometimes wanted to look into that scheming man’s mind. Even though he joked all day, he could hit the mark like that.

"I'm not going."

He said his conclusion first. He didn’t want unnecessary noise.

"Why?"

Jaxon asked. His words were short.

"Sir."

He added the honorific belatedly.

"Just because."

What was there to explain? He was about to let it slide when Rem intervened.

"Are you serious? Even if the soldier ranking system is flawed, high-rank soldiers are exceptional. You turned down the royal army?"

"There must be a reason."

Ragna, seemingly understanding the previous conversation, chimed in, making things worse.

"…Damn it, is he pretending to know something? He seems to know."

"Why?"

Jaxon asked again. This time, the honorific didn’t follow. His gaze was very insolent.

"Lord, grant wisdom to these ignorant ones."

Audin added fuel to the fire with his prayer, igniting the atmosphere. It was impossible to ignore. Leaving it would lead to meaningless violence. Enkrid knew this situation too well from experience. Squad members throwing tantrums often found solutions through displays of force.

"The Frontier Slaughterers stop at the human limit. That’s what they’re for."

"Why is that a problem?"

There was no need to feel pained by that fact. When discussing the path to knighthood with Ragna, Ragna had added,

"A natural talent, a heaven-sent prodigy, in other words, a genius doesn’t need to learn and engrain the basics. They’ll manage on their own."

Knighthood was a genius's game. Those born with talent, among them, the best of the best. Only those who were naturally gifted among the naturally gifted could become knights.

So, should one not even dream?

Should one not hope?

Even if it was torn and shredded, leaving no trace. If not abandoned, that dream still lingered in his heart.

Thus, Enkrid dreamed.

"It’s a problem. My goal is higher."

They all stared blankly. Enkrid spoke. So plainly, so casually as if announcing lamb stew for breakfast.

"I will become a knight."

In the past, this had been met with ridicule.

Enkrid's dream had always been a subject of mockery. So this reaction felt strange.

"You’ll have to cross several walls, but if you want to, you should."

Rem spoke first. Ragna showed the rare fiery look in his eyes.

Jaxon questioned, "Is that so?"

Kraiss opened his mouth in awe. Audin clasped his hands in prayer.

"Bless the effort of holding onto dreams and hopes, even when they seem empty and invisible."

There was no need to be moved by the prayer. Even if it had been met with ridicule, nothing would have changed. Enkrid was that kind of person.

More important than others' mockery or disdain was the dream he held.

A high-rank soldier.

A properly recognized rank in the soldier grading system.

It was just the beginning. Building skills, making a name to become a knight. The panther meowed and tapped Enkrid's cheek. It felt like encouragement.

"Smart one."

Rem laughed at the sight. Despite his nonchalance, Enkrid’s heart fluttered. It was his first time being encouraged instead of ridiculed.

‘Lately, there’s been a lot of firsts.’

It was a joyful moment, no matter what anyone said.

Enkrid spent the next two days training as usual. On the third day, he went on market patrol duty.

Thunk.

And was stabbed in the stomach by a dagger. It was a fatal wound. It felt like a hot iron skewer was shredding his insides.

"Damn it."

Enkrid laughed in disbelief, blood dripping from his mouth. It was a truly unexpected blow.

Screams echoed from the market as a passing waitress screamed. Dying, Enkrid closed his eyes to the sound of her screams.

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