WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 73: Because I Trained Every Moment (2)

The methods of the attackers closely resembled those of thieves; blackened daggers, crossbows, and throwing knives were their main tools.

‘Damn it.’

However, their skills were inferior.

‘They’re not even on the level of the Gielpin Guild.’

“Avoided?”

The surprise at Enkrid dodging the dagger showed a lack of professionalism. Assassination was clearly not his specialty. Enkrid spun the dagger he had taken from the dead attacker in his hand. He flicked his fingers to change the knife’s position, grabbed the blade with his thumb and forefinger, and thrust his arm forward.

The series of movements led to a result. The dagger flew and embedded itself in the forehead of the masked attacker. The ambusher fell backward, crashing to the ground with the dagger still in his forehead.

A thud echoed as his head hit the floor, and red blood began to pool on the inn’s floor.

“Ahhh!”

A few civilians who had been having a meal at the inn screamed and rushed outside. The waitstaff hid under the tables.

The attack prompted screams and the screams led to chaos, but Enkrid and his party remained unscathed.

“...Kill them all!”

One of the attackers shouted.

“We’re under attack! Fight back!”

“Grab your weapons!”

The guards of the trading company also raised the alarm for a counterattack. They each drew their weapons. The sound of blades scraping against scabbards rang out. Hearing that, Enkrid reminded himself that this was an escort mission.

“I’ll go.”

He informed the elf company commander and turned on his heel. Someone had to ensure the escort target’s safety.

If the first floor was this chaotic, there might be trouble on the upper floors. There were guards with the target, but...

‘If something happens here, it’s also our responsibility.’

He wondered which madman had orchestrated this. Attacking a trading company with a standing army escort within the Border Guard?

Enkrid headed upstairs without encountering any resistance. There was a reason for that. Jaxon blocked the way. He picked up a chair and used it as a shield, deflecting all the incoming daggers.

The chair quickly became a metaphysical piece of art with daggers and bolts embedded in its wooden frame. When throwing didn’t work, some approached with shortswords or clubs.

Jaxon swung his sword as they entered his range, severing the souls from their bodies with a single strike each. It was clean and precise.

He blocked and slashed with an ordinary sword trajectory, but the opponents couldn’t defend.

Clang!

One barely managed to block, however, Jaxon had already swung with a cut and thrust style, his sword flicking back like lightning and stabbing the opponent’s face.

A crack signaled the collapse of the nasal bone, creating a new hole on the bridge of the nose, and the man collapsed. Jaxon pulled out his sword and resumed the same routine.

He blocked incoming daggers with the chair and cut down those who approached with his sword. Although his knife-throwing skills were several times better than Enkrid’s, he didn’t use them.

There was no need.

“Damn, who is this bastard?”

Jaxon didn’t respond. What conversation could he have with the soon-to-be-dead?

While Jaxon attracted attention, the elf company commander slipped into the midst of the attackers.

She drew her swords from her waist. As the Leaf Blade danced, attackers clutched their necks and fell. She slashed and slashed again.

Blood droplets splattered in the air, painting her face and body with red patterns.

None could match the agile movements of the elf. They were not a group of that caliber.

“If this is all, it’s disappointing.”

Balancing on one foot, she lifted the other leg two spans above the ground and pointed the Leaf Blade at her opponent, as if preparing to dance. Her clear and cheerful voice must have sounded like that of the king of the underworld to the listeners.

One of the masked men involuntarily stepped back.

“Shit.”

One of the remaining men grimaced. It was a murmuring from one of the attackers on the first floor.

The leader of the attackers thought.

‘As long as we achieve the objective...’

They had bought enough time. Whether the operation on the second floor succeeded or not, lingering here would mean certain death.

The guards’ skills far exceeded his expectations. Did they bring the Frontier Slaughterers along? He didn’t know. Nor did he need to. He considered his job done. It was time to retreat.

“Kill them all!”

He shouted and sprinted toward the door. While his subordinates bought time, he intended to escape. He thought the operation was a success.

“Glory to Azpen!”

One of the remaining subordinates shouted. As he fled, the leader left the cry behind.

They were remnants of spies left in the city. They sacrificed themselves for the country and honor and the leader did it for money.

Isn’t that what loyalty is for?

Watching the fleeing leader closely, Jaxon reached for the thin blade hidden at his waist but withdrew his hand.

‘It’s pointless.’

Killing him wouldn’t change anything and letting him escape wouldn’t cause a disaster.

Jaxon turned his head and continued massacring and killing the attacking enemies mercilessly while guarding the staircase leading to the second floor.

Given his usual demeanor, it wasn’t a fitting role, but in terms of skill among those gathered in the inn’s main hall, only the elf company commander was better, so no one could surpass Jaxon.

Even as she swung her blades excitedly, the elf company commander occasionally glanced behind her.

The skill of the squad member blocking the path to the stairs impressed her more than Enkrid going up them.

‘He stands out.’

Wasn’t this the Troublemaker Squad?

A squad member better than the squad leader was rare, but the skill gap was evident here.

‘At least city level.’

The soldier ranking system was an institution created by Naurillia. Outside of the continent, they expressed skill levels differently.

The company commander, who had lived a wandering life, was more familiar with that system.

Village, city, and continent.

They distinguished between large villages, small cities, and even regions within a continent. That was the basic structure.

Was he skilled enough to make a name for himself in a village? Was he good enough to gain recognition in a city? What level would it take to be known across the continent?

To her, a continent-level powerhouse was at least of knight rank. One could not master the ‘force’ they wielded without knowing it except for those who hired bards to spread their names as frauds.

“Interesting.”

She murmured.

From the perspective of the attacker who had just tried to block her blades and lost four fingers on his right hand, it was a terrifying sound.

“What?”

The tearful man missing fingers asked. The elf company commander wordlessly struck him on the back of the head with the pommel of her blade.

Thud.

He was knocked out. Should she stop the bleeding?

No, it didn’t matter.

Let him die if he did.

There were plenty of mouths to testify. She hadn’t killed them all. Neither had Jaxon.

Some of the younger, more talkative ones were spared, having only been cut on the thigh or knocked out.

Even the one who first shouted for Azpen was kept alive. He would be useful in various ways.

‘What’s happening upstairs?’

The elf divided her attention while fighting. Her open senses informed her of the situation upstairs.

She smiled strangely.

‘Interesting.’

The thought occurred again.

Was it when she first received her swords as a child? It had been as enjoyable as this then.

The Leaf Blades moved with her thoughts and before long, the number of attackers had halved.

Enkrid took two steps at a time as he ascended the stairs. He bounded up the steps, feeling light.

‘The technique of isolation.’

It had clearly changed his body. Although Audin said it was slow, Enkrid felt the difference.

His body was lighter than before.

The moment he reached the second-floor corridor, an assassin with a sword dropped from above.

He was of lower caliber than the previous assassin he had faced. He could practically see the ambusher’s presence.

He twisted his body in the narrow hallway, hugging the wall to dodge, and the sword-wielding attacker crashed to the ground.

The fallen man’s eyes met Enkrid’s.

Enkrid gripped the longsword hilt with his right hand, bending his knees halfway. It was the ready position of the Heavy and Fierce Sword.

The attacker on the ground balanced himself, holding the shortsword perpendicular to the ground.

Though it was a solid defensive stance against a horizontal cut, it was useless against the vertical strike Enkrid launched with his left hand.

Thud!

He feinted with his right hand and struck the top of the attacker’s head with the shortsword hidden in his left.

It was a dual sword draw of the Vallen Mercenary Style.

The deceived attacker’s eyes shook. But he couldn’t say anything. The dead don’t speak.

“Are you crazy? Hiring assassins here?”

A woman’s voice came.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Another woman’s voice followed.

Enkrid leaped over the corpse and dashed down the narrow corridor.

He spotted a half-open door and a masked figure blocking the way.

“Idiots.”

The man waved his hand when he saw Enkrid approaching. With a whiz, a throwing knife flew. Compared to a Whistling Dagger, it was only a fraction as fast.

The courage granted by the Heart of the Beast allowed him to face the flying knife head-on.

Focus Point gave him the concentration to see the incoming knife in slow motion, Blade Sense accompanied the trajectory of the knife, and his strengthened muscles and reflexes supported all these processes.

Enkrid simply tilted his head to the side. It was an unthinkable move before repeating today. He had thought of it as a mere trick.

Dodging an incoming knife with just a tilt of the head?

On the battlefield, he had failed to dodge the arrows of some Hawk Talon or whatever and had to raise his shield.

Now, he felt he could dodge those arrows too. The sound of the projectile whizzing past his ear was all that remained.

After evading it with a simple head tilt, Enkrid rushed forward, and his opponent’s eyes widened. He was surprised, yet he moved his hands, seeming ready to throw another dagger.

Enkrid lifted the shortsword in his left hand, feigning a charge, and swung his right arm.

Whistle.

The whistle echoed along the path his arm cut. The Whistling Dagger pierced the opponent’s neck.

“Urk.”

Blood spurted from his throat, and blood-tinged foam trickled from his mouth. Instinctively, he completed his motion.

He threw the dagger in his hand, but as he was dying, it weakly dropped to the ground. The evasion and throw had taken just a few breaths.

Enkrid didn’t slow down and charged, ramming the pierced man aside with his shoulder.

Thud, whoosh, bang!

The man flew into a door across the corridor, prompting a surprised scream from inside.

This was an inn which had people staying here. Though it wasn’t exactly midday, attacking in the middle of a city, and in an inn at that, was audacious.

Their opponent was either bold or a complete idiot.

“Graaah!”

Having just dealt with one enemy, he kicked open the door and entered the room.

He saw one of the trading company’s guards collapse, stabbed in the stomach. The masked attacker, who had stabbed the guard, pulled out the sword and aimed it at the escort target.

It was a moment of crisis.

Enkrid flung the Whistling Dagger from his hand.

Whistle! Thud!

Although not thrown with full force, the Whistling Dagger did its job. The attacker paused to block it.

Enkrid charged.

The attacker didn’t confront the approaching Enkrid.

Instead, he swung the sword he used to block the Whistling Dagger at the escort target, the young lady of the trading company.

‘Damn bastard.’

Enkrid cursed the tenacious assassin. He had no other choice. For a moment, he mimicked a move he’d seen a Squire perform on the battlefield.

Naturally, he couldn’t execute it perfectly. He didn’t have that talent for that. However, the distance was short.

The room wasn’t spacious, with just a bed and a few pieces of furniture. In this confined space, he could attempt an imitation.

He lowered his stance and kicked off the ground, closing the distance instantly. Knowing another Whistling Dagger wouldn’t stop the opponent, Enkrid threw his body forward.

Crack!

He intercepted the sword between him and the escort target, taking the blow on his back.

The gambeson tore, and the blade cut into his back. Enkrid instinctively twisted his torso, deflecting the sword that struck him.

His eyes met those of the escort target. Instead of seeing fear or a pale face, he saw a determined young woman with clenched teeth.

This was an escort mission. What was a mission? It was a task entrusted to him. Something he was obliged to do. Having taken the sword with his back, Enkrid absorbed the impact.

He silently thanked Audin.

‘Thank you, Audin.’

“Knowing how to take a hit, that’s the first step.”

It was the basics of wrestling. Deflecting the force and letting it flow, it was using the body to deflect blades.

He felt like he’d die when he was learning it. But now, it proved useful.

“Excuse me.”

Enkrid said as he pushed the young lady aside.

“Mm!”

She held her breath instead of screaming. She seemed strong-willed.

“You bastard?”

Understanding the situation, the ambusher with a thick-bladed gladius glared at Enkrid.

“Should we go downstairs to talk?”

Enkrid suggested, turning around and charging.

The opponent thrust his blade at his brow. Enkrid hadn’t expected his experience against the Whistling Dagger to help so much.

It was a thrust slower than the Whistling Dagger. He dodged and lowered his stance, wrapping his hand around the back of the opponent’s thigh.

He lifted the man from below and ran toward the window.

Crash, crack.

The wooden frame shattered, and the window broke. Enkrid and the assassin plummeted down from the second floor.

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