WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 763: Bran's Cousin

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"That one's ten times more interesting than that Talon bastard."

Rem muttered under his breath. Talon was the nickname of the archer who had kept firing arrows during the battle against Azpen. It was a name that remained in one corner of Enkrid's memory.

On that battlefield, the arrows had been like those fired by the Grim Reaper.

Comparing then to now would not even make sense.

Too much had changed since then.

'We can handle this.'

That was Enkrid's judgment.

No one here would die from those arrows. Ruagarne was the most likely to get hit, but even hitting her would be pointless. She was a Frog. Her race could ignore most ordinary wounds.

A well-trained Frog's regeneration rivaled a Troll's.

"Heh."

A chilling laugh escaped Rem. An equally dangerous smile hung on his face.

Killing intent seeped from his upturned lips and eyes.

It almost seemed as if he wanted to hunt down and kill every archer he saw.

Either way, his remark about someone being ten times more interesting could just as well mean they were ten times more dangerous.

Enkrid looked at the tree-covered barrier and thought.

'How far away are they?'

He had heard the sound, but it was difficult to judge the distance. Still, they could not be too far away.

The arrows needed to reach them, and the archer needed a good place to shoot from. Both conditions had to be met.

Then were they shooting from somewhere relatively high?

Ruagarne-style tactical swordsmanship, now Enkrid-style orthodox swordsmanship, naturally set his thoughts on a tactical track.

'Perfect prediction is difficult.'

It was difficult to discern the enemy's circumstances or intentions. Still, it did not matter much. This was the Cursed Ground, so there was no need to be surprised if something appeared that differed from his expectations.

"The worst moments keep coming to mind one after another, so I struggle to prevent them."

Krais had said that once when Abnaier asked about Krais's thought process. Their conversation had taken place right in front of Enkrid.

It had been interesting to listen to. He had been able to see the difference between the way those two usually thought.

Enkrid took Krais's words and interpreted them in his own way.

'What I need is capacity.'

Keep the vessel broad. Let the branches of thought spread as they wished, but accept whatever emerged.

Whatever filled that broad vessel, keep it from overflowing.

'It feels like the Sword of Chance is mixing into this, too.'

Taking everything into his intent within the tactical realm felt like that.

He had divided swordsmanship into the Five Sword Styles, but in the end, all of them were merely ways of swinging a sword.

And the one swinging that sword was the person holding it.

Then did it truly have to be divided into five? Was dividing it the only answer?

The question arose. It was not the sort he could resolve immediately. Still, his heart raced during that brief reverie.

He felt as though an interesting idea might come to him.

Whatever it was, though, this was the time to deal with what lay before him.

The Cursed Ground confused human senses. He was roughly adapting, but compared with conditions outside the Cursed Ground, everything from his sense of direction to the sharpness of his five senses was different. His sense of smell and taste seemed dulled, while the information entering through his vision felt as though it were spinning in a dizzying circle.

The entire region even felt hostile.

And the enemy would know that too.

'Do we need time to adjust?'

They did. Given time, they would adapt to this much. And the enemy would expect that.

Firing the arrows was intended to halt their steps and keep them pinned here.

But were they confident they could hold them in place with arrows alone?

"Hss!"

The sound came amid his brief thoughts. The thoughts themselves had been lengthy, but they had occupied only the span of a few breaths, so it happened just as Rem finished muttering.

Enkrid and everyone else turned toward Fell and Ropord.

The two, hidden behind a large tree, looked down at the roots wrapped around their legs at the same time.

Enkrid saw them too. Roots burst from the violet soil, scattering it as they erupted, and writhed on their own. They were stiffer than snakes, yet far too lively to be called tree roots.

The roots tightened around Fell and Ropord's ankles, trying to break them. They constricted and squeezed.

At the same time, long branches hanging above bent down with a creaking sound, trying to strangle them. The dark reddish-brown branches bent freely as they approached, and they were extremely fast.

They were not as fast as arrows, but faster than an ordinary adult throwing a punch with all their strength. They also looked tough. The texture of the branches themselves made that clear.

The trees had come alive and attempted a hostile response.

It was Fell who had drawn in a sharp breath.

It was not entirely their fault that the roots and branches had caught them.

The Cursed Ground disrupted the senses, and it would be difficult to imagine tree roots creeping over from underground and suddenly grabbing one's ankles.

So they had been caught, but so what?

Fell thought that and swung the sword up and down at the same time as the sharp inhale. The blade drew a large circle. The downward swing was loose but carried the weight of the body behind it, while the rising swing traced a half circle with speed and force.

It was a cut that seemed intended to sever both the roots and branches at once.

And that was exactly what Fell did.

Thwack, crack!

Two noises overlapped. Idol Slayer was an exceptional sword, and its wielder was a skilled swordsman.

No matter how tough the roots and branches were, they could not stop a Knight's sword swung in earnest.

The branches and roots were cut apart, freeing Fell from the restraint.

Ropord moved in the same way as Fell. Ropord's weapon was excellent as well.

It was not an Inscribed Weapon, but Ropord's sword was properly sharpened.

It was a sword sharpened with true silver, with a core forged from Valerian Steel. A dwarf had put their skill and every effort into it, tempering it for three full months.

That sword also traced a large circle as it struck away the roots and branches. Unlike Fell's, Ropord's circle was drawn at a constant speed.

The strength behind it was not lacking. If Romen had been there, simply seeing those strikes would have shocked him.

Ropord had only awakened to it recently, but Ropord was still a Knight called a calamity. Will added strength to trained muscles, granting tremendous physical power.

Thwack!

Branches and roots were cut apart. Black sap scattered through the air.

Fell and Ropord retreated as they split left and right. Then, as if on cue, two more bolts of black lightning flew in, aimed precisely at where they had dodged.

Boom!

Enkrid had not consciously decided to block them, but his body moved on its own. Fell was closer, so he headed that way. Several thoughts occurred to him at once just before he moved.

'The enemy can see this place.'

'If they can see us, they know we came from outside.'

'They also know that the air of the Cursed Ground is different and that we need time to adjust.'

This continued his earlier line of thought. The organized thoughts led to a single conclusion.

The arrows and tree monsters were intended to hold them in place. The enemy intended to keep them here, blocking arrows until they died.

But who said Enkrid would let that happen?

Crack! Boom!

When Enkrid moved in earnest, the ground beneath his feet exploded, and his body pushed through the heavy air as though he had teleported. Duskforge then lashed out at the black lightning.

Sky-colored steel struck black lightning.

Boom!

An explosive sound erupted. He did not deflect it or block it. He simply hit it. The arrow Enkrid struck hit the dirt, then bounced into the air several times.

With barely any delay, Audin stopped the second arrow aimed at Ropord. White light gathered in his hand and became a large ball, then struck the arrow aside.

Boom!

There was a loud noise on that side as well. The light around Audin's hand scattered and tore apart like a tangible skein of thread, flickered several times, and disappeared.

That was the price of enduring the arrow's force. It even looked like lightning scattering divinity, as though the place itself were asserting that it was not a heavenly domain, God of War or not.

"A devious opponent, brother."

Had it felt like a provocation? Audin wore an expression he rarely showed.

His mouth was smiling, but the usual smile in his eyes had vanished, revealing pale yellow irises.

Enkrid felt a tingling vibration in his grip and examined Duskforge's blade.

If his hand was numb enough to tingle, had the edge been damaged too?

With that thought, he briefly ran his gaze along the blade.

'Well, well.'

The blade caught the dim sunlight filtering through and scattered a sky-blue glow. It was no different from when Aetri had given it to him.

Was this not even enough to leave a scratch?

The blade rang with a low hum, as though answering that it was not.

It would never break, no matter who the opponent was.

Enkrid quite liked the answer from his Inscribed Weapon.

"It will not break."

Aetri had said something similar. Had the meaning in those words not been trust or faith, but simply fact?

Aetri had handled Will as a blacksmith. Those who devoted everything to their work used Will without even realizing it.

And when using Will, nothing was as important as believing in oneself.

The will not to lose. The will not to give up.

All of that became the foundation of Will.

It was only natural for the sword, forged by Aetri while burning away his life and having inherited Enkrid's Will, to display such confidence.

'A sword that will not break no matter what happens.'

In the elven tongue, it was called Infrathes, or so he had heard.

Lafratio, an elf blacksmith, had once told him that. The word had come up while discussing legendary divine artifacts.

Translated again into eastern slang or the southern tongue, it meant immutability.

It went beyond merely not breaking. It meant remaining unchanged, always as it was now.

That was why Enkrid liked this sword. No, he liked it very much, as much as he liked the way it fit so snugly in his hand.

He had no need for some legendary divine artifact.

The trees moved like the Wood Guard he had seen in the elf village. They moved the branches extending overhead like hands, stabbing and striking downward.

"Do I look easy?"

Fell stood beneath them and spoke. Fell had stopped moving in the middle of dodging and planted both feet.

In truth, there had been no need for anyone to block the arrow.

There had been some openings, sure. Fell could admit that. But they had not been openings large enough to be fatal.

Fell could have dodged, blocked, and overcome it alone.

'Am I dead weight?'

Fell would never accept that.

All of this was because Fell's training was insufficient.

The desire for improvement and competitive drive surged up wildly. Will mixed into them and raced through the entire body as if it had gone mad.

A dark reddish-brown tree Giant rose, using its roots as legs. Dirt and stones scattered in every direction.

"Exactly."

Ropord's answer came from the other side. Ropord was not feeling exactly what Fell felt, but was in a similar state all the same.

Their pride had been hurt. Were these tree bastards looking down on them?

Soon, the two drew their swords, stabbed, cut, and swung.

The exterior of the tree Giant was hard, but not hard enough to withstand a Knight's sword.

Thud! Crack, snap!

After noises like those, the tree was cut apart and scattered black sap.

Enkrid watched the tree Giant fall, then asked Sinar.

"It looks like Bran's friend. Am I right?"

Its appearance was different, but its structure looked similar to that of the tree elf called Woodguard.

Were they cousins of some kind? Or did Demon Creatures like this exist too? How many trees were nearby? They were impossible to count. The barrier itself began to writhe and move.

A wave of trees rolled toward them. Roots dug through the dirt with grinding sounds as they crawled along the ground, while sharp branches above sliced through the air and approached to welcome their guests.

The problem was that their welcome seemed less likely to gently pat someone on the shoulder than to stab somewhere into a torso and suck blood.

A faint crease formed between Sinar's brows. She drew Leaf Blade.

Shhhrring.

The blade seemed to cut through the air of the Cursed Ground as it was drawn. Her Will was in it, which was why it felt that way.

Sinar let Leaf Blade hang at her side and spoke.

"I wondered why this place was filled with such an ominous air."

Sinar muttered, then met Enkrid's eyes.

"It seems something I know lies beyond there."

Enkrid did not ask further. They would see it once they went there.

For now, they had to deal with the tree Giants approaching from ahead.

How? Cut them, stab them, and knock them down.

Had Fell and Ropord not just proven that? They were creatures that died when split apart by a sword.

"Each of us will have to deal with around fifteen."

Rem had roughly counted the number of tree Demon Creatures approaching in the meantime.

"I'll kill thirty. That is what a Vice-captain's duty must be."

Ragna said that after hearing Rem. It was not an arrogant tone, yet the words were enough to make one's stomach twist.

It was also the effect of the word Vice-captain itself.

Ever since Ragna showed off that Flame Blade, Ragna had been like this. Rem's gaze sank. Killing intent surfaced openly.

"Do you really wear that head of yours as decoration? I knew it from the time you spouted nonsense because you thought you were dying. Do you even think before you speak, you bastard? Who said I couldn't kill thirty? Read the context. I was telling you that the numbers would roughly work out that way."

"Understood, mere member."

Crunch.

Rem's molars ground together.

"And I'm the Vice-captain. Duty, my ass. Does that word even suit you? Duty? Duuuuty?"

"You're a nuisance. It would be fine to cut you down first and fight afterward."

"Try it."

They looked at one another in silence. It felt as though not even the wind could enter the space between them. The surrounding air turned cold and frigid, and dust settled.

The approaching group of tree Demon Creatures hesitated for a moment.

Why were those two fighting each other instead of dealing with them?

If they had mouths, perhaps they would have asked that.

In reality, the Demon Creatures had no reason to be confused. Pressure merely created an invisible force that spread through the surroundings, making the creatures hesitate.

Footnotes:

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