WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 671: Not at Night, Though

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Contrary to Krais's worries, there was no fierce battle.

Both sides had fought each other once and knew. These were people where you could not gauge victory or defeat without risking your life.

"Just because we showed an edge for a moment, does that mean it'll hold?"

The one who had nearly been killed by Rem said it. Ordinary-looking enough, but something sharp flickered in his eyes. His name was Magroon Zaun, or so Enkrid had heard.

His features were subtly similar to that fellow Odinkar's, despite the difference in hair color. Where Odinkar carried a certain languid air, this one gave off a feeling of relentless grinding. It was purely an impression, so it probably did not map perfectly onto their personalities, but it was close enough.

These people did not bother hiding their thoughts. He knew that from what he had seen of elf society.

They had no need for deception, so the very word for it did not exist among them. This lot must have lived the same way, never needing to conceal what was inside.

"Zaun has always lived in fierce competition. We are nothing like you people, who comfortably prey on the weak as sacrifices."

Magroon continued. With everyone watching, his eyes swept the crowd.

His gaze and bearing said he would not be outmatched in spirit. It seemed like a way of saying that losing to Rem was not the end of anything.

What Magroon said now struck at something real. It was aimed at the general attitude knights on the continent held toward others.

Knights did not spar against other knights. The combat potential of a knight was simply too valuable for that. Kingdoms across the continent typically treated knights that way and respected their wishes. It made sense, if they hurt or killed each other in practice, the losses would be incalculable.

What Magroon said was the exact opposite. He was picking at the complacency of those who became knights and promptly settled into contentment. He delivered it with passion.

And Rem did not hear a word of it.

What is this guy even on about.

Magroon's words were not really suited to the madmen of Border Guard. The people standing here were, to put it plainly, flowers that bloomed on the battlefield.

They had held their ground where blood poured, kept death at their side, and let the sword whisper in place of a tongue until morning came.

Enkrid in particular was remarkable just for being alive and talking.

That was how Rem saw it. Audin and Jaxon would have agreed.

Timing, you might call it.

Magroon snorted and raised a finger, pointing it at Enkrid.

"Everyone gathered to teach him, didn't they? He must have had outstanding talent. Did he savor what was handed to him? Did he walk a path laid out ahead of him? And that's how he arrived here?"

Heat soaked into his words. His tone carried confidence. These were things a man could only say when he believed them to the bone.

Enkrid stirred from his thoughts and looked at Magroon, more precisely, at the finger pointing at him.

It was a conclusion. Magroon said it the way he would swing a sword filled with Will.

"Did Ragna lead all of you? Did you luck your way here? Wait. I can catch up to you in no time. Two months at the most."

Fell had gone with Enkrid to the elf city, cut down demons, fought Cultists along the way, and come back to witness everything that followed.

"What is this idiot even saying."

Fell muttered it.

"Anyone without standing had better stay out of it."

Magroon said it without so much as glancing at Fell. Fell bristled, but Ropord grabbed his arm.

Ropord's expression was the same as always, but the way his mouth stayed shut without the faintest tremor made it clear he was not in a good mood.

"He's not entirely wrong, is he?"

Ropord said it as though answering his own question, with no intention of provoking Fell. Fell knew that.

Instead, both of them clenched their back teeth and quietly resolved to ask Audin to increase the beating intensity by about two levels starting tomorrow.

Was Enkrid's method the fastest path? Maybe not. Maybe it was not even the right one.

But there was nothing else right now. So they did it. Was that not what they had learned from watching that man?

Stop agonizing and move forward. If you have time to sit down, use it to crawl ahead instead.

That was what they would do. As they had seen and learned.

Either way, Fell and Ropord's inner thoughts were aligned.

You idiot. The people standing here caught up to their captain in two weeks. And in two months, you think these people just sat around doing nothing?

Magroon stood with his back perfectly straight. He was not arrogant. This was confidence built from experience.

"Things that were spoon-fed without ever being tempered by real competition."

The tone was considerably, no, blatantly, grating.

Before he even finished, every gaze had already shifted to Enkrid. He looked at Magroon in silence. Everyone waited for him to speak.

He could reasonably say something now. It was time to either knock that idiot down flat or put him in his place with words.

"Two months is enough?"

Enkrid asked it calmly. No sign of offense on his face. It was less that he was offended and more that ,

Why does he look pleased about that?

Rem tilted his head, and Jaxon's eyebrow gave a small twitch.

"Brother?"

Audin called out, but Enkrid raised a palm to stop him.

Fell, Ropord, and even Teresa were all watching and wondering the same thing. Once again, it was Ruagarne who caught on first.

He's excited.

Right. She could even roughly guess why. Because these people could fight well.

"I'll give you two months. Prove it before you go."

Enkrid said it again.

Magroon was different from Grida. He knew his own weaknesses. He had a habit of souring the mood of whoever he talked to the moment he opened his mouth.

Grida refused to admit she could not remember people's faces, but he was not like that. Even so, this kind of reaction was new to him.

Why isn't he getting angry?

Normally in this situation, the other person should have defended their years of effort and gotten furious, calling it an insult, telling him not to mock them.

That was how it was supposed to go.

"Hm. Two months is plenty."

The heat in Magroon's voice cooled by a degree.

"Right, so, Krais, where did Big Eyes go?"

Enkrid changed direction mid-sentence.

"He slipped off quietly a little while ago."

Ruagarne answered.

"Then Ropord."

"Yes."

"Find these three somewhere to stay."

"Yes, understood."

Ropord dipped his head and moved off. Magroon's gaze did not leave Enkrid. Grida and Odinkar both watched with expressions that said this was unexpected.

"Good. You said your name was Odinkar, right? Let's go a round."

Enkrid said it next, paying no mind to anyone else's eyes.

Odinkar shared a similar disposition to Enkrid, but he at least had some read on the situation.

"Now?"

Odinkar asked. He did want to fight. His instinct for it was already prodding at his heart.

But aren't you supposed to be offended right now? Why are you looking excited, gripping your sword like you can't wait?

"The reason I haven't drawn this sword yet is because I haven't broken it in. I can spare tomorrow for sparring with that one. Right now I'll use this."

Enkrid was already past the stage of hearing what anyone else said.

Grida Zaun's specialty was reading opponents' weaknesses through observation.

Enkrid had figured that out. She probably had more hidden tricks, but that was what he had seen so far.

He was curious about Magroon Zaun's skill too, but that one was injured.

"Fell, go get Ann and have her treat him."

Eyes still on Odinkar, Enkrid said it.

A knight's recovery was on a different track from an ordinary person's. A bit of medicine would take care of that level of injury quickly.

Knights could mend broken bones in a single day if things went well. Will surging through the body could stand in for vitality itself.

Doing that before becoming a knight required a rather brutal method, achieving something called the God of Regeneration.

That was what Audin and Enkrid had done once.

"Are you excited because you found someone worth fighting, or excited because you want to beat him senseless?"

Rem, who had read Enkrid's mood, said it.

"Both, probably."

Jaxon took that line.

"Lord, was it Brother and not I who was the Apostle of the war god?"

Enkrid heard all of it and, as usual, let it pass through one ear as he gave his sword a small flick.

Odinkar was swept along by the mood and drew his sword again. Ching, the silver blade showed itself.

He did pay attention to the situation, but he was not the type to hold back. In fact, he leaned firmly toward the unable-to-hold-back end of things.

Odinkar turned the words over in his mind a few times, even ran through a few practice lines silently, then spoke.

"I'll have a bit of an advantage. The sword I'm carrying is one I brought from home and already have a feel for. And fair warning, I don't know how to stop very well. I have a shortage of patience, so things might get rough. You're on your own if that happens."

If Grida could not recognize people's faces and Magroon had a talent for ruining the mood of anyone he talked to, Odinkar lacked restraint.

The reason he usually went around in a loosely switched-off state was precisely because once he started something, he could not stop.

For instance, if he happened to eat something that suited his palate perfectly, he would eat only that dish from sunrise to sunset.

And the worst case was sparring. Odinkar simply did not know how to stop.

In real combat, that recklessness sometimes turned into a brilliant move and became an asset, but not in practice bouts.

None of it bothered Enkrid, though. Every last thing these people showed was fine by him. More precisely, nothing was worth being bothered about.

Not recognizing faces?

That much was fine, wasn't it? A hundred times better than constantly getting lost and going missing.

Harsh words? At this level it was almost cute. Watching Rem speak sometimes made Enkrid wonder whether he should offer a moment of silence for whoever Rem was talking to.

That was how savage Rem's way of speaking was. That barbarian's mouth was getting worse by the day.

And finally, restraint?

Why should I hold back?

There were people around who could receive his sword. People who pushed forward too, yet still overtook him and told him it was not enough yet.

So why hold back at all?

"Come at me. Two months."

Enkrid said it roughly because the name would not come to him.

"Two months is me."

Magroon muttered it, somewhere between confusion and a remark. Grida stifled a laugh beside him.

By now everyone understood. What that madman was after.

"People tell you that you're a bit strange, don't they?"

Odinkar asked with his sword hanging loose.

When members of the Zaun family ventured out onto the continent, the thing they heard most often was that they were unusual.

That was putting it nicely. Behind their backs, people had no hesitation calling them madmen.

And here was a madman who surpassed even that.

"No, not at all."

He did not even acknowledge it.

"No, you really are a bit strange."

Odinkar said it with a smile. This time he did not pick and choose his words. He said exactly what was on his mind.

Is it really all right not to hold back? The thought crossed his mind.

Everyone stepped back a little, clearing space for the spar.

As Ruagarne moved back a few paces, something clicked for her.

Enkrid right now was not simply excited because the other person could fight well. Something else had seeped in alongside it.

Curiosity.

Enkrid had a dream and a passion. And the curiosity that matched that passion had recently come into its own.

The most fitting word for Frog. Curiosity, the desire to know.

Know what?

The Zaun family cultivated knights through an established system. What they possessed was a proper method for raising knights.

Enkrid wanted to understand even that. That was probably why he had told them to stay. Ragna's absence gave a convenient excuse, and the two months that fool Magroon had thrown out gave another.

So all of it was an excuse.

Even without those, he would have made them stay.

Ruagarne was certain of it.

In the meantime, the corner of Enkrid's mouth rose. A smile of satisfaction spread across his face.

He looked at Odinkar and searched for weaknesses. One was already clear.

Odinkar had even said it himself. No patience.

"Do you have a lover?"

"What?"

"If you do, I'll offer her my condolences."

"Why? You planning to kill me?"

Odinkar met the clumsy provocation with a smile. Enkrid was not someone who provoked clumsily.

"No, but you said you have no patience. Think about how miserable that is for whoever's with you. The nights must feel very long for her. She probably falls asleep most nights unsatisfied."

The phrasing was a little twisted, so everyone chewed on it for a moment.

Odinkar did too, and when the meaning landed, red crept across his face. He met Enkrid's eyes with a furious look and said it.

"I'm not like that at night!"

His body launched forward with the words, hurling itself at terrifying speed.

If there was a chance to break the other person's composure, Enkrid took it. With that slight edge secured, he pressed Penna forward smoothly.

It was one of the Valaf Martial Arts body-deflection techniques, rendered through the blade. Force fed into the wrist, received through the body, then redirected.

A weapon is only an extension of the hand.

He had given it a rough name: Feather Scatter.

Still at the stage of fighting from a base of specialties, middle-tier by Enkrid's own measure.

Victory and defeat are not simply decided by tier. In a spar, even less so.

The Wave-Blocking Sword shone brightest in practice bouts, so there was that advantage too.

Clang!

Two swords met. Without a voice, the blades cried out through the ringing of their own steel, again and again.

Clang! Bang! Ring!

And so two blades began to play a march.

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