WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 60: Only Ten Times

"Interesting?"

That was exactly what he wanted to say.

"You’re really interesting."

The half-elf, draped in rags, licked his lips and let his arms dangle. His pale hands were visible outside the rags. It was clear just by looking. He was in a ready stance. Once his hands moved, the dreadful whistling sound would follow.

"When dealing with projectiles, it’s too late to react by watching the projectile itself. Watch the hand instead."

This was Jaxon's method for countering Whistling Daggers and facing those who handled throwing weapons. Catching a flying arrow with your eyes was difficult.

"It’s challenging unless you're truly a knight. But even if you're not a knight, there’s a way to dodge incoming arrows."

It was called having an eye for discerning.

Even if the hand is cleverly hidden, the moving arm cannot be fully concealed, keep your eyes on the enemy. Watch their hands and arms. Then see the whole body and dodge.

That was the key.

Jaxon’s tone was gentle, but his words were clear and precise. Rem’s teaching style was fundamentally physical. He preferred showing rather than telling. Jaxon was the opposite. He gave a detailed explanation first, then demonstrated. Understanding with the mind came first for him.

Ragna’s style varied. He gave a brief overview when he wasn't interested, but once intrigued, he combined physical demonstrations and explanations. He went with the flow. Audin was similar to Rem but always spoke with unyielding positivity. Perhaps that made him the worst.

"You can do it, brother."

"It’s fine, brother. That’s not enough to reach God’s embrace."

"Does it hurt? That’s good."

Learning exercises from him was far from easy. Yet, Enkrid benefited greatly from it. They were outside the city, in the shade created by the city walls. The air was several times colder than where the sunlight reached. Even so, his body retained a moderate warmth. There was no sense of stiffening. It was thanks to the exercises he learned from Audin.

Despite his wandering thoughts, Enkrid’s eyes never left the half-elf. The way to dodge Whistling Daggers was to watch the fingertips. Hands were faster than eyes, but one couldn’t hide the swinging arm. You had to see and sense the trajectory.

If you could see it, you could dodge it. He had done it many times. Not taking his eyes off, that was Enkrid’s task now. Enkrid also let his arms dangle.

The half-elf was in the same situation. Although not at the level of Whistling Daggers, his opponent’s throwing skills were formidable.

‘How can I land a blow?’

The half-elf was excited. Originally, it was a boring and tedious task. He had been commissioned to kill an ordinary soldier. There was no excitement in it. The half-elf had two peculiar habits as an assassin.

One was exploiting the enemy’s carelessness to stab their heart. The other was killing a top-notch warrior head-on. Both were his preferences. He initially focused on the former, thinking he couldn’t be satisfied otherwise.

‘This should be fun.’

Now, he leaned towards the latter. The half-elf kept licking his lips. It was a habit when he was concentrating. He continued searching for his opponent's weakness with his eyes. It wasn’t easy to spot. He had a clear sense in his mind. No matter how he threw his Whistling Daggers, his opponent would dodge them now.

Still, it didn’t matter.

‘He’s prepared for the daggers.’

Somehow, his opponent had seen through his plan. And with the simplest means. Changing the location had done it. The plan had gone awry. Three people had died, and there had been a commotion, but no one was coming.

The originally chosen assassination site was the bustling market. The crowd would dull momentary perception. Jack and Bon, meant to be used as disposable pawns, would stir up some trouble with petty talk.

That wasn’t the end. He had brought a skilled crossbowman and hidden him on the roof. Rottin had been ordered to follow secretly. All this preparation was undone by the change of location.

There were no buildings to hide in nearby. Before the fight even started, two fools had died. As soon as they met, an unexpected dagger throw had killed the crossbowman.

‘Did he calculate all this?’

He licked his lips again. His concentration was at its peak, making his lips dry repeatedly. The half-elf tried to deduce his target’s actions up to this point.

‘He calculated it all.’

Somehow, he knew beforehand.

‘The information leaked.’

It didn’t matter where it leaked. The result was all that mattered. After killing Jack and Bon, he immediately dealt with the crossbowman.

‘Clean.’

The opponent had calculated everything, even using the Sword Flicking Technique. After confirming everything, his conclusion was clear.

‘He’s in the same business.’

Either someone in a similar line of work, or someone with extensive experience in such matters. It was a misconception.

But it was understandable.

His opponent had read through the assassination methods and countered them head-on. No matter how the information leaked, such a reaction suggested experience in this field.

‘Then what methods do I have left?’

He still had a few options. He had three kinds of poisons on him. He also had a custom short weapon behind his waist. A long awl-length weapon. It was called Needle, one of the favored weapons among the elves along with Naidhl.

One stab, and it was over. So far, only one person had survived this method, a certain Frog. That damned Frog bastard.

"Why are you so ugly?"

That crazy Frog had shamelessly mocked his appearance. The half-elf had a complex about his looks. Elves were supposed to be beautiful, but half-bloods were deprived of that blessing. After meeting that Frog bastard, the half-elf always ended things by tearing his target’s heart apart.

Licking his lips when concentrating and aiming for the heart as the final blow had become his habits.

‘The poison is too precious to waste.’

Thinking of the Frog, he wanted to split his opponent’s heart. It didn’t seem like a difficult task either.

‘Close the distance, then pierce with the Needle.’

His opponent might be skilled in swordsmanship, but that was only in direct combat.

The half-elf trusted his trump card.

Now, how to close the distance?

As he pondered various methods, he noticed the idiot Rottin flinch.

‘Fool.’

The half-elf spoke.

"Don’t move, idiot."

Rottin swallowed hard at his words. As he was about to step back, the pressure made him want to flee. Having spent a long time in the Thieves’ Guild, Rottin recognized this as the air of death. His instincts were screaming alarms.

"How many do you have?"

The half-elf held Rottin with words and then raised his voice forward. Enkrid shrugged his shoulders. He was probably asking about the number of daggers in his hands.

"I have only two."

The half-elf lied. He had licked his lips countless times by now.

"I have one."

Enkrid answered honestly, despite knowing everything.

"It seems I have the advantage?"

"That’s what you think."

The dagger Enkrid had thrown was a secret weapon he had begged Kraiss for since morning. He had asked for something thin and light, and Kraiss had found it. As a result, a soldier had lost his knife used for cutting meat.

Enkrid now had a throwing knife, which had been sharpened so much that the blade had shortened to the length of a finger.

"This is really fun. You."

The elf murmured. If things went south, Whistling Daggers would fly. Even so, Enkrid agreed with the elf’s words. The tension heated his entire body.

One wrong blink, and the hand of death would strangle his neck. Yet it was enjoyable. To measure his skills against his opponent. To pit his preparations against his opponent’s. The desire to win, combined with competitiveness, filled his heart. It was something he had rarely felt before.

When had he ever had the chance to desire victory?

He had been too busy struggling to survive.

But now?

After countless deaths on the repeated today. It wasn’t just his swordsmanship that had changed. Although he naturally had a fighting spirit, he couldn’t easily wish for victory. Especially against an opponent with considerable skill.

But now?

‘I can win.’

He wanted to win, and he could win. It was a change in mindset.

"Lift the corpse. Use it as a shield."

The half-elf spoke to Rottin without caring whether Enkrid could hear.

"If he targets you, he’ll die too. He won’t use such a method. Take the crossbow as well."

The half-elf chose the most rational, efficient, and sure method from his options. Leverage the advantage of numbers. They were two. Rottin hesitated. The half-elf calmly explained the situation, as it was necessary.

"This is inside the city. Won’t patrol soldiers come around here soon?"

It was true. Enkrid only needed to buy time to gain an advantage.Soon, patrol soldiers would come. Then it would be over. Rottin knew that encountering them would mean not only losing his cover but also making survival difficult.

"Damn it."

Rottin cursed the shitty situation and carefully lifted the corpse. His back was drenched with sweat from tension.

‘When did his skills improve so much?’

Staring at Enkrid as he moved, Rottin's actions were slow. He fumbled on the ground, carefully placing the crossbow aside before lifting the corpse with the dagger in its head.

It was heavy. He groaned under the weight. One wrong step here, and it was over. Rottin focused, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the corpse.

‘Move carefully. That bastard can’t throw a knife.’

Thinking this, he used the corpse as a shield.

Whoosh, thud!

Enkrid’s arm moved. A dagger flew. Before the corpse could fully cover his body, Rottin twisted desperately. As a result, the dagger embedded in his shoulder.

"Guh."

Rottin swallowed his scream. As he took the blow, the elf’s hands moved. Both hands moved precisely four times, up and down.

Screeching!

The overlapping whistling sound grew loud. Four daggers flew. Even while throwing the dagger, Enkrid didn’t take his eyes off the half-elf.

Because he didn’t blink, he read the trajectory of the flying Whistling Daggers and immediately spread his legs and lowered his body to the ground. He bent his waist and placed his hands on the ground. The four Whistling Daggers flew towards where his head and chest had been.

All this happened in the moment after Enkrid threw his dagger and took half a breath. During the time it took for the other half of his breath, the half-elf moved his hands again. After throwing four daggers, he waited a very short moment. It was a timed attack. Two more Whistling Daggers aimed at Enkrid’s head and thigh as he supported himself on the ground with his hands.

Enkrid instinctively rolled to the side.

Thud!

The daggers struck the ground. Rolling on the ground, Enkrid quickly lifted his head to locate his enemy. Missing a dagger throw would be the end. Enkrid’s eyes darted side to side. The enemy wasn’t in sight.

He first noticed the rag fluttering in the air and the dead body of Rottin with a dagger in its arm. Enkrid’s eyes pierced through the rags. He wasn’t there. The assassin was nowhere to be seen.

Instinctively, Enkrid searched for a position to throw the dagger, causing him to miss. Meanwhile, the half-elf had lowered his stance and charged forward inside his wide field of vision.

His ears perked up, detecting the presence striking the ground.

Enkrid finally spotted the half-elf. He had already closed the distance. Only a few steps away.

Using the rags to distract and close the distance, the opponent couldn’t have predicted this. It was the half-elf’s tactic. His prediction was correct.

Enkrid’s expression was one of sheer surprise. Even so, he moved.

Ping!

‘Bastard.’

The half-elf cursed his opponent internally, forgetting his own lie. There was a third dagger in his opponent’s hand. But it wasn’t aimed at him.

The method the half-elf had considered most efficient. Numbers were always an advantage. Thanks to that. if Rottin used the crossbow to check him, it would be over.

There were no other options for him. The dagger flew with a swoosh, embedding in Rottin’s forehead instead of the corpse shield. Of course, the half-elf didn’t see this. He was just running with all his might.

Within two steps.

His hand moved to his waist. He saw his opponent desperately grabbing the longsword after throwing the dagger. Much faster than drawing and slashing, the half-elf’s short awl-like sword pierced Enkrid’s heart.

Clang! Clang!

‘Blocked?’

The half-elf was shocked. Truly astonished. This wasn’t supposed to be blocked. It was a secret move, a fatal blow. Without knowing, it couldn’t be blocked.

But it was blocked. It was unfair.

Enkrid had already seen the awl sword Needle during his ninth death. Instead of drawing the longsword, Enkrid blocked and deflected the awl sword with the blade of the guard sword he had drawn while throwing the dagger. Though it wasn’t a perfect soft and flowing Sword, he could mimic it closely enough. As a result, the blade cracked instead of piercing through.

The shattered blade scattered like light particles from his chest. Enkrid dropped the guard sword grip and drew his longsword. All this happened in one breath. Blocking, discarding, and drawing. It was a continuous, fluid motion. Drawing the longsword and striking down with all his might was like flowing water.

It happened in the brief moment the shattered blade hit the ground. Even in shock, the half-elf blocked the overhead strike with the Needle. It was too late to dodge, so it was the best defense he could manage.

Enkrid fully utilized the basics of the heavy and fierce sword style. Whatever blocked it would be broken and crushed by the sword.

Clang!

The Needle snapped like a twig, sparks flying, and the longsword’s blade fell on the half-elf’s head, fulfilling its purpose.

Thud, crack!

The hideous face of the half-elf, once mocked by the passing Frog, was now unrecognizable. His face was split in half. The longsword blade Enkrid held split the elf’s jaw.

The dead elf, with his face split, fell forward, blood gushing out, without a final scream.

"Hoo."

Enkrid exhaled the breath he had been holding. Then, retrieving his sword, he thought. Ten times, it had taken only ten times. That was the number of regressions it took to end today.

It was the shortest repetition he had ever experienced.

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