WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 593: Five Strokes of the Blade

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They were standing in front of the inn doorway the administrator had left open. Outside, a hooded figure was visible. Something about the sight felt familiar. Looking closer, Enkrid thought this might be one of the people who had watched him with wary eyes when he entered the city.

He studied the hooded figure without expression.

The administrator spoke without turning around.

"That is not wise. There are many out there right now who would target an honored guest. Please come to the manor at once."

"Damn you."

The hooded figure ground their back teeth and said it while glaring at the administrator. The two did not appear to be on good terms.

Then the figure looked at Enkrid again. The administrator's gaze had not moved since before, still fixed on Enkrid.

Two sets of eyes landed on him, and it felt almost like a forced choice. Like two diverging roads.

Though it probably was not quite that dramatic.

Still, if he chose wrong here, would something happen, the way the ferryman had described?

The thought crossed Enkrid's mind for a moment, but he did not hesitate. Whichever road he walked, what mattered was that he was the one choosing it.

For now, the hooded figure's words held more interest.

The administrator, on the other hand, left a nagging, grating feeling somewhere in his gut. That was not enough reason to go around beating people, though. Enkrid stepped outside and gave the administrator a light pat on the shoulder.

"I'll have a talk and come find you this evening."

"Sir."

The Snake Eyes administrator called after him, but Enkrid left him behind and walked out. Ruagarne followed.

Once outside, he came to stand before the hooded figure. The figure spoke.

"The administrator is not a man who worries about this city. He only looks out for himself."

The voice was kept low enough not to reach the administrator's ears.

"Why not say that to his face?"

Enkrid said.

"Now is not the time to stand out. Follow me."

The man spoke quickly, turned, and walked at a brisk pace. He stepped into an alleyway without a moment's hesitation. Even with the sun up, the inside of the alley was gloomy.

It was winter, so the cold was expected, but the air deeper in felt colder still. Everything about the place was dim and unsettling, yet Enkrid followed the hooded figure in long strides.

"Faster!"

The man urged him. Enkrid went along without complaint.

"That road is dangerous!"

The administrator shouted from behind. Enkrid ignored it and kept walking. After a while, that uneasy feeling crept back in. Like something was watching him, though he could not find the source.

"Doesn't it feel like something's keeping an eye on us?"

Enkrid asked as he walked. Not quite a run, but close to it in pace. Ruagarne puffed out one cheek slightly and answered.

"No."

Was he just being overly sensitive? Or was it the atmosphere the whole city gave off?

He could not tell.

"Damn."

The man ahead suddenly stopped. They had moved through the alley and the path had widened considerably, enough for five people to walk abreast. Passing through that stretch brought them to a place that was almost like an open square.

There were a lot of people there, and that was why the man had stopped.

Enkrid grabbed the hooded man's cloak and asked.

"A trap? Are you a Cultist, by any chance?"

The hooded man pulled back his hood and answered.

"I'm the castellan!"

Why is the castellan showing up here?

He was a man in his thirties with light brown hair. He swept his gaze around quickly.

"Things have gone very badly. Our people will clear a path, so let's get out."

At those words from the man claiming to be castellan, two hooded figures came sprinting out from one side. Both carried Short Spears, and they looked like they knew how to use them well enough.

At a generous estimate, good enough to bring into the Border Guard Standing Army.

Of course, they would need basic training again. Even now, as they ran out, their footing was unsteady. Enkrid figured it was because their lower bodies lacked conditioning.

In truth, the two of them had not slept properly in days, keeping watch over the people who had come from Border Guard, which was what had them off. They had moved into action after spotting the enemy's movements, but the enemy had been faster.

The castellan had been driven out through some series of events and wanted neither to die here nor to abandon this city.

He needed outside help to escape the situation, but slipping past the reach of those who had taken control of the city was no simple matter.

He had somehow managed to hold his ground with what forces he could gather, and that was when reinforcements arrived from Border Guard.

His plan had been to tell them the current state of the city and then ask for their help in taking down the people behind the prostitution, drugs, and gambling that had stained everything here.

But for that, they first needed to walk back out of this city on two working legs.

And before that, they needed to believe him.

While he was working toward that, the criminal organization inside the city had moved first.

How they had moved this quickly was something the castellan himself could not fathom. Thinking back, they had always been one step ahead of him.

"So if you're the castellan, you and the administrator must not be on the best terms."

Enkrid said it calmly, unaware of any of this.

"That man is not on my side!"

The castellan nearly shouted it. The frustration pushed his voice up. He looked around and drew his own Shortsword.

A sharp ring filled the air.

Could they get out? The situation was bad. Very bad.

"Sir castellan, we'll buy time."

One of the spear carriers said it. The castellan looked back and saw people already drifting into the path they had come through, blocking the way.

Enemies on all sides. A rough count put the number well above a hundred.

At the center of it stood three people, holding themselves with full authority as they watched the castellan and the two from Border Guard.

A Beastfolk with one ear cut off. A Half-Elf with pockmarked skin, a crooked nose, and a twisted mouth. And a female swordsman sitting composed. Three of them.

The female swordsman stood out in particular. She wore armor that emphasized her full chest.

Curly red hair and a soft, easy smile that carried its own pull.

She could not be called a great beauty outright, but the combination of her figure and her smile made her difficult to look away from.

"Lord Castellan, where are you headed? That Frog and the gentleman there look like guests of mine."

The Beastfolk with the missing ear said it. He was the one they called Wind Blade, the man who ruled this city.

He wore a Scimitar at his hip. The name Wind Blade had stuck because once that blade was drawn and the sound of wind came, you were already cut before you knew it.

Just as knights earned titles, anyone with even a little notoriety collected nicknames in this world. It was the way of things.

The Half-Elf beside him fixed his ugly eyes on Enkrid and gave a contemptuous snort.

He used poison needles. In his youth he had mishandled poison and it had left him disfigured, and ever since, the sight of anything even slightly handsome twisted his gut. When he ran into that type, he always had to either curse at them or make them suffer with poison to feel right again. With someone who looked like this, he thought killing might be the only thing that would satisfy him.

"Wow, he's handsome."

It came from the woman in the revealing armor, the one with bare shoulders and a visible neckline.

She had learned a strange Sorcery as a child: using her body and her smile to bewitch others. That was what she was working toward now. All she needed was for the target to get his gaze caught on her, face or figure, and the Sorcery would take hold.

She noticed that the one called Enkrid was looking at her with a blank, indifferent expression.

His eyes were somewhat empty, but as long as he looked, the Sorcery would catch him. That was what she believed.

"You three!"

The castellan stared at them and cried out in shock. He could not help it.

Had those three not been calling each other enemies and fighting all this time?

They had been tearing into each other over control of the city, and here they all were, gathered together, apparently waiting for him. There was no way not to be stunned.

"You're not my type."

The woman stuck her tongue out at the castellan as she said it. Enemy or not, he was still rather cute. The castellan shook his head hard. For a moment he felt his mind starting to slip.

"This is no good. We'll force a path open somehow, so go back to Border Guard and tell them what's happening here. I've heard General Abnaier is stationed there. That person would not look away once they knew."

The castellan was resolved. Even if he had to give his life here, he would see the filth that had taken this city cleared out.

He steeled himself and raised his sword.

"I will die here. This is the end of what my conviction can carry me through. Goddess of fortune, watch over Cross Guard. Have pity on its people."

Ruagarne listened to those words from beside him and thought that these people had very poor intelligence.

Nobody seems to know who Enkrid is.

Enkrid was thinking something similar.

The same was true for the three who led the criminal factions. They did not know who was standing in front of them.

"You're not bad. Any interest in staying? I'll take you under me. Call me Master from now on."

The Beastfolk called Wind Blade said it. Enkrid, being as generous as he could, put the man at around Squire level.

And honestly, that was being extremely generous. Even accounting for the natural physical ability Beastfolk had, it was hard to go higher than that.

Three people had taken a whole city, and all three were weaker than he had expected.

Was there something else to it? Sheer numbers?

That did not seem like it either.

He had the man claiming to be castellan right beside him, so he could ask later. If all of this had grown out of some struggle over the castellan's power, he had no particular interest in taking sides.

But there were people here who had tried to kill him and then offered to take him in. And someone had tampered with the food. So he would have to do something about this side regardless.

Enkrid raised his right hand slightly and asked.

"Who tampered with the food at the restaurant today and threatened the owner?"

His tone was completely easy. Nothing about him suggested fear or tension.

The three criminal guild heads ruling the city all frowned.

What is he counting on to act like this?

Does he not understand the situation?

"And what if you know?"

The Half-Elf said it while twisting his lips. That was his version of a smile. Anyone who did not know him would have thought he was sulking. Not a pleasant face to look at, naturally.

"Don't tamper with food."

Enkrid said.

"And if I don't feel like it?"

The Half-Elf moved his hand. A flick upward sent specially forged needles flying straight at Enkrid's eyes.

Needles was a loose term. In thickness they were closer to blades.

The throwing skill was impressive. Targeting something as small as an eye was no easy feat.

"Watch out!"

The castellan shouted. Enkrid drew the Shortsword Aetri had given him and swept it loosely in front of his face. The gesture was about as casual as shooing away a fly.

Tink, tink.

The two thick needles struck the blade and fell. Nobody in that square could tell how it had happened. In truth it was simple.

The needles were plainly visible coming at him, so he put the blade in their path. Nothing more to it than that.

No particular technique or precision required.

Enkrid knocked the needles aside and looked ahead. Behind the people blocking his path stood a low building, and beyond it a blue sky. Good weather. A clear winter sky without a single cloud.

The season had been drawing close to early winter and a chill hung in the air.

The sky was clean and bright. The city was not. It smelled. It was dirty. Filth everywhere.

"By any chance, do you know a place called the Gielpin Guild? Someone from that side came here and contact was lost."

Enkrid said it while glancing idly at the sky.

"Those people also take others captive."

The castellan answered, reading the room carefully. Looking at that clear sky, Enkrid decided the situation was not so bad.

He had planned to get involved anyway. Having them all gather and come at him at once was nothing to complain about.

"Rua."

"Got it. I'll stand guard."

He meant for her to protect the man claiming to be castellan.

Enkrid walked forward, and Wind Blade drew his weapon.

A whisper of steel.

The wide blade split the light as it came free. Blade-quick cuts were his specialty. Enkrid barely glanced at it. A brief look, then his gaze spread wide.

The Half-Elf slid six poison-tipped darts between the fingers of both hands. The technique he had refined over a lifetime.

The armored woman stepped toward Enkrid with a smile.

She already had the Sorcery running. Bewitching others with her body and her smile was her specialty.

A technique that had never once failed her. She walked out toward Enkrid as if to welcome him. Each light step made her chest sway. Any man would have had his gaze stolen.

"My, your face is really to my..."

She could not finish the sentence.

Enkrid swung his sword as he walked, and the blade split the female guild leader's head straight down the middle.

In that same instant, poison-coated darts came flying.

Enkrid had already noticed that the poison was only on the tips. The Half-Elf's long white fingers were bare, no gloves. No protection against contact poison.

That tracked. The Half-Elf had an ugly face but had been proud of his beautiful fingers his whole life and hated covering them. Because of that, he only ever put poison on the dart tips before throwing.

Enkrid caught the incoming darts one by one. As long as he avoided the tips, grabbing them was no problem.

It would have been invisible to ordinary eyes, but to Enkrid it was easy.

Knights were beings that had broken past human limits. They were called calamities. They were those who could cut down a thousand alone.

This was never going to be a fight.

When Enkrid snatched the darts out of the air, the Half-Elf was too stunned to form words. Wind Blade threw himself forward on reflex and swung his blade horizontal to the ground, but Enkrid lifted his sword straight up without any fuss, sliced through Wind Blade's weapon, and carved all the way into his chest. With a cracking sound, the chest muscles split open and a still-beating heart was visible inside.

Ruagarne turned her head away for a moment at the gruesome sight.

She had split hearts with her own hands before, but that was when fighting other Frogs and there had been no helping it. Watching a heart beat in plain view like that was a genuinely unpleasant experience.

"Anyone else?"

Enkrid asked after dropping two in an instant.

"Kill him!"

The Half-Elf screamed it, wild with fear. Most of those rushing in had no idea who they were dealing with.

Several of them were clearly high on something. Enkrid drew his sword and swung.

The first one who charged got a lid put on his skull. The second caught a fist that erased his nose, eyes, and mouth. Caved in, burst, and shattered, that was how it happened.

A few more sword strokes followed after that, though calling it a fight was almost embarrassing. Aside from the ones who were drugged, hardly anyone came at him with any real intent.

One by one, those who were still scared turned and ran. Five sword strokes was all it took before no one was left within range to fight. Enkrid flicked his sword through the air.

Blood pattered from the blade onto the ground.

The sword was heavier than before, apparently from the hardest iron mixed in, and the cut felt different too.

The weight let heavier strikes land with more force. Good for that kind of blow.

Earlier he had cut through two people in a single stroke without even thinking about it, and the blade had passed straight through both of them cleanly. At this point calling it a fine sword was no exaggeration. Aetri's craftsmanship seemed to get better with every passing day.

"Now then. You said you were the castellan?"

Enkrid turned around. A man stood there with his mouth hanging open, looking about ready to drool.

"Ah, yes. That's right. I am the castellan."

He answered.

His expression was past surprised. He looked like he had completely forgotten how to speak.

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