WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 783: Game Versus Game

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Whether Romen was baffled or not, Jaxon let the chatter wash over him, Rem's nonsense, Sinar's arguments, all of it going in one ear and out the other, and opened his senses.

His five senses tangled together. It felt the same as stepping into the Cursed Ground.

'Then let's just call this the Cursed Ground too.'

A little tangling was not enough to dull the blade that was his perception.

'Where would the captain be?'

The question already had its answer.

'Balrok. Cursed Ground.'

Jaxon sharpened his senses and searched for the most dangerous place. He knew the man called Enkrid. Enkrid was the kind of person who stepped deliberately into the harshest place and kept moving forward.

His gaze turned toward a passage filled with darkness, opening off to one side like the throat of some enormous Demon Creature. There were no stalactites, but the surrounding area had transformed into something like a vast open chamber inside a cave.

'This is the center of the passages.'

From this hub, tunnels branched out in every direction.

His senses had picked out the most sinister and foreboding of them. It was the conclusion reached after the Will woven into his perception surged and burned. Just detecting and reading the situation drained his Will.

That alone was proof that fighting, or doing much of anything, inside this place would not be easy.

But did that give him reason to fall back? No.

Jaxon had not shown any particular sign of what he was thinking, yet someone shoved in from the side without warning.

"Hey. You found it, didn't you?"

Just as Jaxon knew the captain, Rem knew the wildcat's specialty. This one would find the path, would find it no matter what. He felt a brief pang of regret over Dunbakel's absence. No matter how much Sorcery was used, Dunbakel in her Beastfolk form would have tracked it by scent.

Still, the wildcat could fill that gap in her place.

Jaxon thought for just a moment.

His body was not in perfect condition, and the Barbarian's stone-throwing was still useful enough. What he had seen a moment ago had been genuinely impressive.

"Those eyes bother me a little."

The Barbarian's instincts were sharp. At those words, Jaxon turned his gaze idly to one side. While the two of them talked, Ropord glanced back and asked,

"Are we all leaving?"

Ruagarne answered.

"We can't. We have to hold them off too."

Frog gave the most sensible answer the situation allowed. What happened if you let the horde pour in unchecked?

The remaining residents of the Cursed Ground would be wiped out. Securing a line of retreat and not abandoning the rear, that was basic combat doctrine.

Ruagarne was a Frog who knew that charging in all at once was not the best move.

"Ropord, Fell, and Teresa will stay. I will stay too."

Her voice was clear and steady. There was not a trace of any intention to die together.

In effect, it meant Rem, Audin, Jaxon, and Sinar would move. Romen, still listening, had to fight the urge to stick a finger in his ear. Or rather, he wanted to ask whether this was really right.

'You saw that, and you're still splitting our strength?'

Whoomph.

Whether it was a cave or something else entirely, the space had warped, and torch racks stood throughout, so there was no shortage of light. The torch racks lined the walls and illuminated the surroundings well enough.

Even in that torchlight, figures wrapped in deep shadow came forward, the owners of a black mist that swallowed their entire bodies.

"Hey, everything up to now was just a warm-up."

It was a low, thick voice unlike a human's. Though it was not shouted, it made the air hum.

Among all those who had lost their reason, a few presences stood out even at a glance. You could tell just by looking. These ones would not be easy to deal with.

The Giant was two heads taller than Audin, with forearms thicker than an ordinary grown man's thigh. It was a Giant, a race of Magic Beasts born with red blood.

Its hair was matted with grease, as if it had not washed in days or perhaps months. When it spoke, its teeth flashed for a moment, and they were black.

"Go."

Teresa said it plainly, as though the humming voice still reverberating through the air was beneath her notice.

The Giant, which had been shaking the ground with every step, let its expression turn ugly. Its brows rose at the ends, and its jaw muscles bulged as it clenched its teeth. They were close enough to read each other's faces, which meant close enough to charge in and strike.

Behind it stood numerous armed figures lined up like an army, bearing swords, spears, Maces, and axes. The Giant itself looked exactly like a General leading troops.

"No, right now..."

Romen was just opening his mouth to stop them.

"Mm. Slept well."

The slacker who had been keeping his eyes shut and savoring his rest through all this commotion opened them.

He even stretched with complete indifference. Rem watched and muttered without thinking, Sorcery bleeding into his words.

"That crazy bastard. I should've just let him die."

Even without emphasis, anyone listening could tell he meant every word. Those were cursed words, after all.

"Where's the captain?"

And that was the first thing out of his mouth as he got to his feet.

"Ah. Looks like you couldn't find the way. I'll take point."

Then, having grasped the rough shape of the situation, that was the next thing out of his mouth.

"Just follow along nicely, brother."

Audin stepped in before anyone else could. Rem had gone completely quiet. Before he could say a word, his axe would move first.

"This way."

Jaxon moved with an indifferent air, as though he did not care what anyone said, and Sinar fell in behind him.

"Yooouuu!"

The Giant roared at being ignored.

"It's unbearably loud."

Ropord and Fell, who heard it, dug at their ears. They remained composed and unconcerned, with not a hint of crisis showing on either of them.

"How can they possibly..."

Romen muttered. He was struggling to adapt.

Up close, he had gone well past the point where he could nod and say he understood why these people were called lunatics. He felt as if he had stepped into the center of confusion.

They could die here. So how could they look like this?

The answer was not meant for him specifically, but Fell gave it.

"Keep your eyes open and follow, shy Ropord. I'll survive again today and climb higher."

Ropord followed that up immediately.

"Who's shy? Simple Fell, you just keep up. I was supposed to be at the front from the start."

Teresa, the half-Giant, walked between them and said,

"Little brothers, conserve even the strength you spend talking."

Ruagarne watched and puffed her cheeks out, grinning.

"Ha! Today is the moment this Frog surpasses her limits too!"

A flame whip, a Loop Sword, unpredictability, and tactical movement.

Even with all of that as her arsenal, what Ruagarne could do against a true Knight was limited. But she wanted to go further. The desire was there in full, the experience was more than enough, and now the opportunity had arrived.

"If I can't surpass my limit, I'll die."

As Ruagarne added that, Romen understood too.

"You could die. You know this is reckless, right?"

Those were words a companion had said before Romen left the City of Aoara.

Right, all of it had started for this: to move further forward, to climb higher. That had been his state of mind just before the Parasitic Worm nearly took him. The resolve he had briefly forgotten flooded back through him, and his Will moved on its own.

Romen knew instinctively that even if he survived this moment, survived this place, he would not suddenly become a Knight.

'Does that matter?'

What mattered was not losing the Will to push forward right now.

Why had Rem and the others left? Because all of them knew Enkrid was in danger. Their captain would be somewhere worse and more dangerous than here. That was why they moved.

Not that any of them intended to leave without lifting a hand here first.

"Let's take a slight detour, brother."

Those were Audin's words. Leaving right now would be too brutal on those staying behind.

Jaxon nodded without looking back. The group shifted course slightly toward the horde of Wraiths.

"Ahhh!"

The Giant at the front lunged, but its head was crushed against the rim of Teresa's shield, and it collapsed.

She spun and swung the shield like a bludgeon, moving and striking with nimble speed that did not suit her size. Teresa was about to show everything she had been keeping back. The fighting began again.

Of course, this would repeat countless times.

Within the repeated today that Enkrid lived.

* * *

In that repeated today, Enkrid was repeating the Dullahan's name back to him.

"Dorapha?"

"......How do you know my name? No, it's not Dorapha, it's Donapha!"

The opponent could not manage his emotions. Even in that state, Donapha was skilled enough to give Enkrid a scare with a dangerous blow.

Of course, Enkrid had spoken before Donapha began the motion of properly putting strength behind his attack, luring him into letting his guard down. Then Enkrid closed in, combined Flash and a thrust, chained head-stabbing Flashes into Lightning, and took Donapha's body apart into four pieces.

He had left Donapha's head hanging from Duskforge like an ornament. Enkrid flicked his sword beside the body split into pieces, and Donapha, reduced to just a head, screamed.

"My name is Donapha! Do! Na! Pha!"

He left those words behind, then blurred into black mist and disappeared, leaving only sand-grain fragments.

'A little fast, maybe?'

The first opponent had died before they could even draw their two Shortswords. This fellow who had transformed into a Dullahan, Dorapha or Donapha or whatever, had died just as quickly.

Thanks to that, Enkrid had some breathing room, and the third opponent, the single-edge fighter who would normally appear soon after, did not show up.

If they were not coming, he could go to them, so Enkrid walked forward without hesitation. He knew what would happen inside here and what lay ahead, so his steps carried no pause.

He passed through darkened passages and pressed on until he met the opponent he would encounter like a signpost.

"What are you?"

The opponent was caught off guard. Enkrid saw no need to ask and answer, so he pushed the opponent straight onto the defensive.

By forcing an opponent whose strength lay in attacking first to defend, the fight was easier than on the first day.

He hooked the opponent's foot, wrecked their balance with an unorthodox move, stole their specialty and turned it against them, then split their skull open. The opponent displayed the trick of speaking even with their head severed.

"You, again..."

Whatever they were trying to say was none of Enkrid's concern. He pressed on, and there stood a campfire. Beside it was someone from his past, with a sword propped at an angle.

The Knight whose name the city bore looked back at him.

The ferryman had intervened, but this was a place shrouded in a demon's Divine Power. He briefly wondered whether she had been repeating that today alongside him.

The stray thought was dismissed by Aoara herself.

"Oh, you're here."

Her eyes were the same as in the previous today. Slightly surprised, slightly expectant.

"Want to talk for a bit?"

Today had repeated. In this place, there was only one prisoner.

At the end of a short conversation, the Red Moon rose. From within Aoara's shadow and body, the Balrok opened its eyes.

-You must be the one who called me.

The wording was slightly different, but the Balrok's reaction told Enkrid everything. Even the demon before him did not know. The ferryman's intervention was something no one was aware of.

"Yeah, that's me."

Enkrid forgot every unanswerable question, drew Duskforge, and threw the scabbard behind him. Then he unfastened Penna as well and threw it behind him.

He gripped the sword and focused. Will gathered and formed a blade along its edge.

Rustle.

As if it felt his intent, the cloak he had received from the elf caught the air and billowed, then narrowed, reshaping into something like a thin scarf. The cord thinned next, wound once around his neck, and settled.

Enkrid's eyes went still.

The Balrok's Pressure began, chains that wrapped around Enkrid's entire body. An intangible force restrained him.

'Faster.'

He poured intent into the Will of Refusal and activated it, striking away the Pressure. The two horns rising from the Balrok's brow moved up and down.

It had nodded in approval. Again, it waited until Enkrid endured the Pressure. That was probably one of its games, a test where only those who could withstand the Pressure earned the right to cross blades with it.

It did not exploit the opening created by the Pressure. Under ordinary circumstances, the Balrok's confidence would have the tactical value of breaking an opponent's Will. Merely watching despite such an opening meant it was certain it could win regardless.

It was an act that would taint a person's Will with impurity. Right after Enkrid had overcome that Pressure with Refusal, he still had both hands locked around the grip.

In one instant, Duskforge fell through the red moonlight.

No warning. No breath.

It was the best first move Enkrid could make.

The moment the air parted with a hiss, Enkrid felt time slow around him and felt a pressure like mud weighing down on his body.

Inside the Balrok's eyes, pupils made of sparks spun fast and sharply, then snapped to a stop. The flame looked back at him and asked:

Is that your best?

In this particular today, before he had even heard its name, the black-flame sword Urtt had already swung upward and struck the sky-hued Duskforge.

Clang!

The second battle had begun. Not much was different from before. A single fight had not been enough time to carve the lessons into his body.

But did that make it a problem?

No today had ever been wasted. That was how he had gotten here. So he would do the same now.

Enkrid fought with everything he had, struggled desperately, and lost.

Thud.

Salamandra, the flame whip and fire serpent, coiled around his left arm and pierced his heart.

It was an opening he had given up while blocking Urtt and the Balrok's horns at the same time.

Pain. Agony. To forget it, he turned his mind to reviewing the fight, again and again. He thought he had held his eyes open and endured, but darkness came without warning. In the midst of replaying the battle, the ferryman's gaze turned toward Enkrid.

Footnotes:

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