WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 791: The Spar Was Long

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“Your skill...”

The faint smile on Aoara's face dimmed a little. She did not always wear one.

She was not startled exactly, but the way she blinked repeatedly made it plain to anyone watching that she was surprised.

It made sense. Even after only a few exchanges, it would not have been hard to tell that he was different from before.

The inexhaustible Will-Ousque, his command of the sword, his mindset, and the way he used Will.

The Enkrid she had met in Thousand Bricks, the city that now bore Aoara's name, was far too different from the Enkrid before her now.

A moment ago, Aoara had brought her sword down, and Enkrid had struck it away with a thrust.

Aoara caught the sword being forced back by the thrust, stopping it with raw strength, then moved her feet to bleed off the remaining force.

The skill of the Knight who had renamed a city had not gone anywhere. Enkrid confirmed that, and Aoara recognized that the man standing before her was clearly different from before. A smile returned to Aoara's face. This was more interesting than she had expected.

Watching how Enkrid had changed, and crossing swords with him like this.

Since the Balrok had taken hold of her, this was perhaps the only moment a truly genuine smile could appear on her face.

“Did I not advise you to let something go back then?”

The question came from an old memory, with no particular intent behind it. Enkrid answered without making a fuss of it, as though it were not even worth considering.

“Ah, I let that go in one ear and out the other.”

Aoara laughed as she replied.

“...This bastard is good at provoking people.”

Aoara also learned something now that she had not known when they met in the city. This bastard worked his tongue just like a Ghoul.

Coming from a face and manner that did not seem capable of such a thing, the effect doubled. Aoara was battle-hardened. She knew that principle well.

Tang.

This time, Aoara thrust, and Enkrid kept his movements short as he brought his sword down. Their blades met lightly and parted. Not even a spark flew. As though they were engaged in a practice spar, they swung, dodged, blocked, and redirected.

This wasn't Aoara's intention. She was following Enkrid's lead.

'He has grown enough to come this far, that much I understand.'

But this much?

Aoara was surprised again and again. Originally, she had not intended to move her sword like this. She did not want to drain his strength, so she had meant to forget the sparring and simply talk. She was only humoring him for a while because he wanted it.

Though surprised, Aoara knew that this would not be enough to overcome the Balrok.

'But do I have anything to say about it?'

Probably not.

As she moved, Aoara looked into her opponent's eyes. They were like a clear sky without a single cloud.

Those eyes held a light rarely seen here, revealing unyielding resolve that would not retreat no matter what happened. That was why she could not stop him. What right did she have to stand in the way of someone who stood here of his own will and swung a sword?

Even if the ending had already been decided, even if it was a story whose ending she already knew, Aoara had to read it. Even if the story was destined to end in tragedy.

'Not enough.'

She knew because she had fought it several times. The Balrok could not be dismissed as merely a monster that fought well.

As always, time was finite. Whether out there or within the Labyrinth, anything with a beginning had an end.

Tragedy or otherwise, Aoara decided that it was time to begin.

Thunk.

Aoara shoved Enkrid's sword aside and was about to tell him that the time had come.

Enkrid yielded readily and sheathed his sword. There was discipline in the movement. It would not have been strange for a military salute to follow immediately after. Aoara murmured inwardly.

Yes. You know the time has come too.

Just as she was about to speak, Enkrid beat her to it.

“Can you fight unarmed?”

Then he abruptly reached out. Aoara dodged the fist aimed at her brow. This was not an attack she could casually evade with a smile like before.

She twisted her waist, shifting her center of gravity, and sharply jerked her head aside. At the same time, she opened her palm and struck out. Dodging was not the end of it against this sort of attack, so the counterattack came. Her knightly insight and training kicked in reflexively.

Thwack!

Enkrid aimed his left fist at Aoara's face, then drove his right elbow forward to strike away the palm Aoara had extended. The sound was quite loud. He had struck that hard.

With her palm blocked, Aoara jumped back twice like a startled rabbit. Her original specialty was the flowing sword, used through footwork, so her footwork was no ordinary thing. Even to a knight's trained eye, Aoara's shifts in center of gravity were fast and her reflexes exceptional.

“...What was that?”

Aoara asked as she retreated.

“Warming up?”

Enkrid answered calmly.

“So I'm your warm-up?”

Aoara realized anew how sharp Enkrid's tongue was. This bastard knew how to get under people's skin. Battlefield experience or not, he had a talent for making someone angry. What she had been about to say about the Balrok temporarily vanished from her mind.

“What? Aoara without Smile is third-rate? A nobody? Small fry? Something like that?”

The smiling Aoara was a Knight with a very firm heart, but she was not the type to let provocations slide. No matter what others said, she crushed them with skill.

“It's not like that, though.”

The blue-eyed bastard answered calmly. That composure was what slowly grated at her.

Aoara reacted, and Enkrid smiled. Even that smile felt like a provocation to her.

“Fine. Let's see who dies.”

There had once been a time when she roamed the battlefield with a single sword. That was before she became a Knight.

“Come at me, all of you!”

Her name had become widely known because she had cut down ten renowned mercenaries by herself.

Those ten mercenaries had ambushed her alone. On a battlefield where tactics centered around small elite forces had become standard, they had calculated that if they could kill her, losing one battle would still let them win the war.

“I'll make you crawl beneath my crotch.”

The bastard who constantly provoked others was the first to have his crotch cut. Aoara did not tolerate provocation. Why did that memory come to mind now?

Aoara gathered her scattered thoughts and gripped her sword. Smile, the Inscribed Weapon, was gone. But the self who had once wielded Smile still remained.

Whether this was a fragment of her soul, merely scraps of memory, or a fragment of obsession, she did not know.

He had asked whether she knew barehanded combat, but she ignored all of it and reached for her sword.

Shing.

The drawn sword rode the flow. Her sword was a line that did not stop. An unbroken wave.

Aoara's sword traced a diagonal path, and Enkrid's sword opposing it traced the same diagonal. It came down in the opposite direction, as though reflected in a mirror. The two blades met in midair.

Clang!

Sparks flew. It meant they had both put proper force into their swings. Aoara wore a wide-sleeved garment, and the clash shoved her sleeve up to her elbow.

Fine cords of muscle moved like waves across her arm.

'Soft.'

In the brief moment their swords met, Enkrid grasped the nature of Aoara's sword.

It was not because of a difference in skill that he understood its nature immediately. He had known Aoara before, and he had trained with parts of her technique as a benchmark.

He applied force and pushed her sword to the side. It was a heavy push driven by strength.

Clang clang clang!

Just before their swords could lock in a Bind, Aoara realized that she had been pushed back in the same diagonal cut and retreated again. As quickly as she withdrew, she rushed forward and swung diagonally once more.

Just as the sound of feet kicking off the ground registered, the dull-colored blade fell along the same slanted path. Where the last strike had been soft, this one was powerful. Enkrid raised his sword and pushed smoothly.

Skree.

Their swords crossed, and they traded places. Until then, Aoara had stood with her back to the bonfire, but now Enkrid had the fire behind him.

The torch was distant, and the bonfire was close. Their shadows overlapped between them. As swords and bodies crossed, so did their gazes.

The blue eyes that seemed impossible to read were still steadfast, clear, and pure. Aoara understood why the ten mercenaries from long ago had come to mind.

She had noticed the ambush of those ten mercenaries long before. Their tactics had not been particularly sophisticated.

Yet she had played along despite knowing. Just as she did now.

This was a practice spar. Aoara knew that if she fought at full strength, even as a fragment of obsession, she could leave at least one wound. But she did not do so.

“You've improved a lot.”

“Thanks to letting your advice go in one ear and out the other.”

“...Did you always speak like that?”

“Ah, Knight Aoara let that go in one ear and out the other. I was always like this.”

If there were a contest for speaking irritatingly, this bastard might be the greatest on the continent.

Aoara had been sparring with Enkrid because she wanted to help him. She had wanted to pass on some of what she had learned from fighting the Balrok.

'...Why do you know everything?'

How to use Wings, how to break free of Pressure, and the kicks that flew in from beyond the bounds of calculation.

'You know all of it.'

Enkrid had fought the Balrok more than a hundred times recently, so it was only natural. But from Aoara's perspective, it was enough to make her tilt her head.

Not that she could question him about it.

After that, Aoara understood what Enkrid wanted. Even without him saying it directly, their intentions communicated through crossing swords.

Ignoring defense entirely, she swung her sword, and Enkrid redirected, deflected, and blocked every sword strike she sent forth. The chipped iron sword remained in Aoara's hand.

Their spar was long. Long enough for a group of lunatics to come looking for the lunatic who led them.

“Ah, that's enough.”

Aoara withdrew after sparring for a long while. Enkrid naturally drew back his sword and settled into his stance.

There was no time to exchange words. Aoara's body suddenly flew sideways. Her body was flung aside like a puppet hanging from a string.

Then, from the shadow where Aoara had been, a foot with dark crimson hide burst forth. At some point, they had changed places, and Aoara now had her back to the bonfire. Their shadows overlapped, and the foot had emerged from them.

In other words, it happened right before Enkrid's eyes.

Enkrid stretched his thoughts. The air weighed heavily on his shoulders, and his Dynamic Visual Acuity surpassed the limits of human ability to identify what had risen from the shadow. In truth, he would have known even if he could not see it. Insight gained through experience would have recognized what had happened.

The Balrok's foot had emerged. Even in stretched time, its foot left a hazy afterimage. No matter how much he accelerated his thoughts, the attack's trajectory and speed made it impossible to evade. Moreover, it was not only a foot. Pressure was mixed into it. An intangible pressure, Pressure given form as chains burning with fire, seized his limbs.

Boom!

Enkrid was kicked. His body flew backward as though it would crash straight into the wall. But that did not happen.

Thud.

A large hand, a hand truly as large as a bear's, caught Enkrid's back as he flew and redirected the force sideways. The massive figure that caught Enkrid spun around. Force that could have smashed through the wall and driven Enkrid into it scattered into the air.

A ringing sounded in Enkrid's ears. He had protected his body with Will, but the sudden flight had caused the tinnitus. It faded quickly. His body was sturdy.

The person who had helped train his body into what it was now was supporting his back.

Footnotes:

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