WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 788: Three Teachers

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"You're enjoying this."

"Having fun? At a time like this?"

"You're a man who only lives for today."

Enkrid had met a great many swordsmanship teachers, and most of them tended to say similar things.

But what could he do? The present was fun. It was enjoyable.

"...Why are you smiling?"

The person he had recently made into a swordsmanship teacher asked.

Rino had lost his two flame-trailing swords and now held two identical-looking swords. These new blades carried a chill that froze flesh with a mere graze.

As he spun the swords around in his hands, cold air wafted out.

'They'd be great in summer.'

That was the kind of weapon they were.

The spinning blades pushed away the heat and cooled the surrounding air.

'Rather than emitting cold, are they absorbing the heat around them?'

To use an artifact or Spell Object, one had to understand how the weapon functioned. If its structure or operating principle was unclear, one had to use it over and over to learn how to handle it.

Rino had done exactly that.

"A spec object used carelessly is a double-edged sword that cuts its wielder."

Something Jaxon often said. Teacher Rino wielded that double-edged sword well. He excelled at cutting only his opponent without being cut himself.

'What can I learn from this teacher?'

A dull student could not properly learn what a teacher taught. A better student barely learned one thing when taught one thing.

A clever student, on the other hand, realized five or ten things when a teacher taught one.

And when it came to learning, no one on the continent could compare to Enkrid.

Among all races, he was the most outstanding.

He even stole lessons from things his opponent did not want to teach.

'Is deception his specialty?'

That was what it looked like on the surface, but there was nothing to learn from the way he tried to wage psychological warfare through words. He was clumsy at that.

Instead, several isolated movements stood out.

'Why are they special?'

Rino spread both arms like a great bird. Cold air rose along the frost-laden swords in each hand.

It looked like a Balrok striking with its wings. Balroks even used their wings as weapons.

And those blades froze flesh with a graze.

'It's like a Balrok using Urtt and its wings together.'

It was a natural association.

Urtt, the black-flame sword, was a weapon one could not even brush against.

Teacher Rino's current movements perfectly drew out the characteristics of his weapons.

They looked like two wings because the motions were large.

Those movements, which even seemed rather unnecessary, lowered the temperature around him.

No, they did not stop at lowering the temperature. Their movements made the surroundings freeze. Before he knew it, Enkrid felt a thin layer of ice on his forearm.

For now, it was only a faint chill, but if that clumsy dance continued, it would eventually become uncomfortable enough to hinder movement.

He understood that instinctively, without needing deep thought. There was no need to retrace the process.

There was more to learn here. Teacher Rino's specialty was not psychological warfare after all.

"Go on, keep smiling."

Rino said.

Enkrid continued smiling.

How could he not?

A clever student realized ten things, but the madman called Enkrid enjoyed learning. It was just as enjoyable as fighting and pressing forward. On top of that, he now had an eye for things he had never possessed before.

'Perfect use of a weapon.'

Knowing what one could do with one's weapon, going beyond simply cutting and freezing, and changing the surrounding air to one's advantage.

'The two swords that blind opponents are the same.'

The pair Rino had originally used were blades that trailed flames and emitted heat when swung quickly. By striking them together with the right amount of force, he created a flash that blocked his opponent's vision.

That method of obscuring an opponent's sight was Teacher Rino's unique technique.

'Impressive. Again and again.'

That was what he thought inwardly.

It did not mean he intended to quietly take the attack.

Before the cold invaded his bones, Enkrid moved. Kicking off the ground, he swung his sword in a sky-blue crescent.

It was a simple, clear movement, but the teacher dodged. He kicked off sideways and pushed his body away. An afterimage followed him.

Enkrid had seen it several times, but it was still an excellent step.

It was a high-speed lateral movement that increased speed by crossing both legs in an instant.

Enkrid had watched it countless times and had even practiced it aboard the ferryman's ferry. The mad student moved in his teacher's shadow.

The blade that had been drawing a crescent changed trajectory midway and moved horizontally.

"...!"

The teacher's eyes widened in shock as he raised the two frost-laden swords side by side to block.

That was a mistake.

Boom!

Duskforge was a sword capable of delivering blows heavier than most greatswords when needed.

The sky-blue blade broke both frost swords and left a long gash across their owner's chest. Black mist billowed out along the wound.

"You!"

Unable to withstand the force carried by the sword, the teacher rolled backward before coming to a stop. He placed both hands and knees on the ground, raised only his head, and opened his mouth.

Rino knew the wound he had suffered was fatal. But that only applied when he had possessed a body with flowing blood. His body was different now, so he could still speak and move.

Still, he knew he could not overcome the opponent in front of him, so he had no intention of attacking.

Yet something twisted inside him.

The step Enkrid had just shown was one he had developed himself. He copied it? After seeing it only once? No, he had started following the step before even seeing it all.

"You're stealing my technique?"

Anyone could see that he had watched and copied it. Rino's pupils trembled violently.

'After seeing it once? No, he did not even see it properly. He copied what was happening right in front of him?'

It was not merely a simple step. It was a method of wielding Will.

Could someone do that after seeing it once? He had copied it before seeing the entire movement.

No matter how much one expanded one's thoughts, it made no sense.

A genius like this did not exist in the world. It was a succession of impossible events.

From Rino's perspective, that was only natural.

During the time Rino knew nothing about, Enkrid had watched it countless times, repeated it to himself, endured the ferryman's scolding, and practiced running aboard the ferry.

"Do you want to fall into the river again? Training here? You're truly the first person like you I've ever seen."

He had listened to such words with half an ear while practicing hundreds of times.

"How unfair."

The teacher muttered as the light faded from his eyes.

Enkrid nodded. He agreed.

"...Detestable man."

Rino defined Enkrid with an old-fashioned word and killed himself. A short dagger was already in his hand. Rising only onto his knees, he lifted the dagger and stabbed his own throat.

The teacher turned into black mist and departed.

In other words, the first lesson of the day had ended.

'His specialty is not deception. It is utilization.'

Words he had learned in the past passed through his mind again.

"Your skill changes depending on how you handle a weapon."

A weapon was another life to a mercenary, or so the mercenary captain Enkrid had served under had said.

'The proper way to handle a weapon.'

Zing.

Duskforge rang as his thoughts continued.

Flutter.

The elf's cloak caught the wind on its own.

The air inside the cave remained perfectly still, yet the cloak fluttered.

'Have I used my weapons properly until now?'

He also had several horn-blade daggers, Penna, and a cloth-wrapped gauntlet. He wore armor made from elf leaves in the form of an undershirt, and Esther had imbued that armor with her breath as well.

As he organized his thoughts, Enkrid headed toward his second lesson.

"My name is Donapha!"

Donapha was a teacher who grew excited easily and enjoyed deciding a match in a single blow. This fight could not be drawn out for long.

Donapha had no armaments other than a heavy axe, the armor wrapped around his body, and a ghost horse.

'An extreme disposition.'

He considered nothing beyond a single axe swing. Because of that, Donapha's axe strikes surpassed his actual ability.

It resembled the sword strike Romen had shown while still only a junior knight. At that time, Romen had swung his sword like a Knight, though only for a single strike while he was still a junior knight.

Romen came to mind because the opponent before him was on a similar path.

If Teacher Rino had taught him how to use a weapon, what he could learn from Donapha, his second teacher, was much clearer.

'Simple thought.'

Using simplicity as a weapon instead of complexity.

That simplicity was even more extreme than Focus Point. It was like running straight ahead while wearing blinders, like a horse with its eyes fixed only forward.

Blinders were fitted to a horse to block its side vision and make it look only ahead. By excluding everything unnecessary and running with its eyes fixed forward, it reached its destination quickly and efficiently.

'Donapha's five senses must be dull too.'

He was the perfect opposite of Jaxon. That was why, when he swung his axe, he often threw his own head aside as well.

Complex and multifaceted thought aided calculation, but became impurities during the process of concentrating.

Donapha rejected all those impurities. Enkrid did not know every principle of this Labyrinth, but he now knew that these people had been Knights in life.

The Dullahan named Donapha must have maintained such an attitude even when he had lived with red blood.

It was as though he had tailored his very life to axe swings.

Still, there was no need to absorb all of that.

'That would be regression.'

Enkrid stole lessons even from his teachers, but he went further than that. He also understood their lessons on his own and digested them in his own way.

Because he had always been eager to learn, his attitude and approach toward learning, as well as his cognitive ability, had improved noticeably from before. It would not be an exaggeration to call it evolution.

'Simplifying thought only when necessary.'

Ragna's usual loose, limp attitude came to mind. He was terrible at explaining things with words, but he was still a good teacher.

There was much to learn simply from his usual manner.

'That loose attitude is the process of emptying the mind, and the change when he grips a sword is a transition of thought that guides Will.'

All he had to do was take simplicity through a transition of thought. He only needed to exert concentration when necessary.

'Focus Point is enough.'

More precisely, he had to immerse himself more deeply in Focus Point.

How?

By cutting away every branch of thought and discarding the impurities.

That was what he had learned from Donapha's single blow, born from simple thought.

Blue comes from indigo, yet it is bluer than indigo.

It was the same principle as a spark born from a small campfire spreading and becoming a great blaze.

"Huh?"

Donapha's blow cut through empty air.

That was immediately after Enkrid had devoted his simplified thinking to blocking and evading.

Enkrid's sword struck Donapha across the waist as it passed.

From the outside, it only looked as though the Dullahan riding the ghost horse had thrown his own head backward and charged, while Enkrid, the swordsman facing him, had also rushed forward with both feet. The two crossed and passed one another.

In that exchange, Donapha's axe cut through empty air, while Enkrid's Duskforge severed the ghost Knight's waist.

Shunk.

Duskforge became as sharp as Penna when necessary.

It was a horizontal slash that made use of that.

"I have lost."

Donapha's upper body slid down and dropped onto the ground. His voice came from somewhere separate from his fallen body. As always, he spoke from his head.

He decided the match head-on and accepted defeat easily. His shift in attitude was as quick as his simple thought process.

Enkrid moved toward the third teacher.

This entire process was naturally the result of spending time training. It was also the result of the effort he had put into swinging his sword aboard the ferryman's ferry.

"Are you trying to fight me?"

The ferryman had asked him that while watching him swing his sword. It was not serious, of course. It was mockery.

The single-edge wielder narrowed her eyes the moment she saw Enkrid.

At a glance, she could tell he was no ordinary opponent. The Pressure flowing faintly from his entire body had taken shape, looking like a great fortress wall.

"You made it past Donapha."

The single-edge wielder's specialty was the explosiveness she displayed while maintaining an offensive. Looking closely at that sustained offensive explosiveness revealed her exceptionally long breath.

That long breath was her greatest specialty.

However, it only stood out when she maintained her attacks. Once she shifted to defense, her rhythm broke and her breathing became choppy, changing the movements of her hands and feet between offense and defense.

'A fatal weakness.'

She could attack enthusiastically, but she had no desire to defend.

Even as she spoke, she drew a long, thin breath through her nose.

Watching, learning, and mastering this was endlessly enjoyable as well.

During spare moments, even aboard the ferryman's ferry, he repeatedly steadied his breathing as though practicing in his mind. It was not because he was impatient. Learning and mastering things from them was simply too enjoyable.

"Why are you practicing breathing here?"

Naturally, the ferryman scolded him repeatedly.

If he yielded the initiative to the single-edge wielder, she hurriedly continued her attack. Enkrid watched and stole the method of breathing.

Then, when the moment came that her breath broke, he switched from defense to offense and cut.

He did not simply cut. He cut while practicing her method.

"You, you, how?"

Leaving Donapha aside, these two were perceptive. They realized what Enkrid had done and were surprised every time.

"Well."

When he gave a vague answer, the single-edge wielder's eyes dimmed.

Ordinary people easily encountered someone better than themselves, but those commonly called geniuses rarely saw someone who surpassed their talent.

That was why they were shaken even more when they faced a moment like this.

Moreover, the single-edge wielder's mind was likely not whole now either.

How could a life consisting only of being captured by a Balrok and wandering through the Labyrinth be whole?

Enkrid cut down the single-edge wielder, moved on, met Aoara, exchanged words with her, and then faced the Balrok.

It was the one hundred and fifty-fourth today.

During that time, he had never broken the crystals exposed on the Balrok's chest. He could cut one, but he could not cut all three, so attacking was futile. Moreover, to cut even one crystal, he had to disregard his own life.

Such a fight was no different from suicide, so it was not a path Enkrid would choose.

Still, he struggled and fought. Yet the Balrok stood firm like a wall he could not overcome no matter what he did.

Then, before the one hundred and fifty-fifth today arrived, the ferryman, unable to endure any longer, told him how to escape today.

"Listen to me."

The tone sounded as though he were saying, "Fine. I lose."

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Footnotes:

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