WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 83: The Heat

As the boatman of the Black River had said, Enkrid's days were similar to repeating today over and over. His days were filled solely with training.

“Control, control, control.”

His sparring sessions with Rem focused on Enkrid's ability to masterfully handle his body and sword.

Occasionally, the chilling sense of murderous intent came from Jaxon's eyes, which seemed to be watching him from somewhere.

Jaxon had a knack for making Enkrid's body tense up just by looking at him. He felt like he might die if he let his guard down even a little.

Even though Jaxon did nothing, just his gaze made Enkrid feel that way, which was maddening. Finding Jaxon, who was always exuding killing intent, was also part of the training.

To this end, Enkrid tried to expand his auditory and sensory domains but failed repeatedly. The concept of the “Gate of the Sixth Sense” didn’t resonate with Enkrid.

“It doesn’t come easily.”

Jaxon stubbornly repeated the same actions. Enkrid began to lose weight. It was a tough training regimen. Yet, he never asked to stop.

“Take it easy, you sneaky wildcat. You're really annoying.”

“Did a barbarian sense my killing intent? I must have lacked finesse.”

“You leaked it on purpose, and now you talk big. Where’s my axe, my axe to split that wildcat’s head!”

Watching the emaciated Enkrid, Rem occasionally threw in a comment, which naturally led to quarrels. Then Enkrid would try to stop Rem, who was looking for his axe while humming a tune.

“I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Damn it, I’m just saying do it moderately.”

For someone who spoke of moderation, Enkrid never had a day without bruises on his body thanks to Rem's fists and axe strikes. Rem didn’t know moderation either.

Enkrid wondered if Rem should even say that, but he never asked Rem to stop either. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't trained his body using the Isolation Technique.

He probably wouldn't have been able to endure as he was now. Whenever Audin got the chance, he asked:

“If it’s hard, you can rest, brother.”

That bastard seemed more like a priest of a demon than of a god. If you’re tired, rest. It’s okay to stop. Those were the words he lived by. But they were actually the whispers of a demon.

“If you say so.”

And when he said that.

“Then we must train your mental strength as well.”

He would immediately rush at him.

“Mental strength is derived from physical strength. Here’s a secret I’ll only share with you, brother. Mental strength actually comes from muscles.”

When Audin joked like that, the weight Enkrid had to bear that day would increase, and the Isolation Technique and wrestling would become more intense.

That crazy clergyman had a hobby of pretending to be a demon and tormenting people. Not that he was complaining about it.

Sometimes, very occasionally. Whenever it was too exhausting and he thought he might want to rest, Audin's demonic whispers would awaken Enkrid's mind.

“I feel like resting today.”

He sometimes said this deliberately, knowing how Audin would react. Then Audin would smile broadly and say:

“It seems you’re capable.”

It was a provocation, and he prepared corresponding training to push Enkrid's body to the limit. It was hard and relentless. Nobody would say it wasn’t grueling.

However, the results of his training accumulated in his body more than ever. Even though he still couldn’t block Rem's axe when it turned into a ray of light. He could block two out of three axe swings which whipped like a lash without losing his balance.

During his sparring sessions with Ragna, his ability to anticipate moves improved.

Previously, he had only been able to see a step ahead, but now his tactics, which involved linking a few feints to manipulate his opponent as he intended, had become sharper.

Ragna and Rem were very different opponents, but they both helped Enkrid. He was still blocked from sensing Jaxon’s killing intent.

‘The Gate of the Sixth Sense.’

How many times had he gone through the process of goosebumps all over his body? At any time and place, the thought that he had to endure that gaze and killing intent made him shiver. It was terrifying.

As dreadful as dying while repeating today. So far, he had encountered assassins twice. Both times, he had to repeat today, but he had never felt such killing intent.

He had heard that well-trained assassins didn’t show any killing intent. Enkrid thought of the assassins he had met. The first was in the medical tent.

‘I heard more than I felt the intent.’

Was that guy an amateur?

The second time, when he faced the half-elf throwing Whistling Daggers, he had to keep his eyes wide open, trying not to miss even the slightest movement or twitch of the fingers.

Neither of those encounters involved using the sixth sense. The end of the four seasons, the bitter cold of winter, had begun to bow its head slowly.

It couldn’t be called warm yet, but the days were gradually warming. When rain fell instead of snow, it would signal the arrival of spring and the beginning of a new year.

The cold would linger for a while. This region was known for its long winters. Thinking of the assassins naturally led to other thoughts.

‘They were said to be persistent. Have they stopped coming?’

Azpen's special unit, the Gray Hounds, was a group of tenacious bastards. He had experienced that firsthand.

‘Sending assassins to kill one soldier?’

Though he kept it in mind, there was no sign of an attack. Honestly, he wondered if he could respond even if someone was targeting him now. He was too busy dealing with Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon.

‘Things will work out somehow.’

For now, it wasn’t the time to worry about whether it was the Gray Hounds or gray cats targeting him.

‘A gift for tomorrow’s me.’

The time he spent on his body today and the training he did were always gifts. Tomorrow's self would accept today's pain as joy.

Mitch Hurrier stood in the middle of the training ground, dispelling the chill of winter. As he moved and swung his sword, steam rose from his entire body. Mitch forgot the cold.

He focused only on his sword, himself, and his opponent. He swung and swung again. As soon as he got out of bed and recovered, Mitch Hurrier acted like a man obsessed with the sword.

He used a practice sword with a thicker blade, which added weight, designed for training. As that sword traced several lines in the air, it stopped with its tip angled as if to pierce the sky.

Then, the tendons in Mitch's arm muscles stood out, and the tip of the sword sliced through the air.

Swoosh—

From top to bottom.

Anyone with some insight would get goosebumps at the sight of that sword strike. The sword drew a vertical line with the ground, and its tip created a perfect straight line without the slightest shake.

Even though he had been swinging a sword three times heavier than an average longsword for hours, displaying such a sword strike was astonishing. Mitch Hurrier had become a tree that grew using defeat as nourishment.

‘So, I must not die like that.’

While he lay on his sickbed, he heard that assassins had been sent after the bastard who knocked him out. Hearing that had been incredibly annoying.

The assassination failed and that made Mitch happy.

‘You have to die by my hand.’

On the battlefield, no less. Since his defeat by the soldier Enkrid, surpassing him had become Mitch Hurrier's reason for living and life’s goal.

“You look good, but it’s also a bit unsightly.”

His father sternly scolded him. Becoming a lunatic obsessed with the sword was not the kind of family member the head of the family wanted.

But what did that matter?

Better to be this way than to sell the Gray Hounds' name and send assassins in the name of family honor.

‘I’m much more honorable.’

Mitch laughed.

He looked forward to and anticipated meeting the opponent who had pierced him on the battlefield. That wasn’t just an empty fantasy.

Keeping in mind that they had suffered from the enemy’s knights in the previous battle, Azpen was now gathering troops on a large scale.

‘See you on the battlefield.’

He vividly remembered his opponent's face. He would never forget it. It was the first time he had ever lost like that. Thanks to that, for the first time in his life, he had become a training addict who never left the practice ground.

Gray Hounds’ commander, seeing Mitch’s state, stopped them from sending more assassins.

“If you meet again, you can take him, right?”

“I will meet him and I will kill him.”

After hearing Mitch’s answer, the commander closed the issue of sending assassins. There would be no more sending anything to that soldier.

“I take back what I said about you changing. It seems to be true.”

Rem said. This was after a sparring session full of punches and blows.

“It seems to be a plateau.”

The foul-mouthed barbarian rarely criticized Enkrid.

“Whenever your skills improve, you stop. Is it a habit?”

Enkrid didn’t argue with that statement. It wasn’t hard to understand why they said it.

This was how it was. When the teacher showed enthusiasm, growth stopped.

It could be frustrating to watch.

Rem wasn’t the only one.

“It’s curious how you can’t seem to apply techniques. You’ve nailed the basics so quickly. Normally, when skills improve rapidly, people say there’s talent, but with you, Squad Leader, it feels like you’re just barely keeping up. Your skills definitely improved quickly, though.”

Ragna could be sharp at times.

After all, he was saying the same thing as Rem.

Audin was similar.

“Brother, getting your body to move as you want only comes from training. It comes with repetition. Well, it’s usually like that, but you seem a bit slow, Brother Squad Leader.”

A long way of saying he was going nowhere.

Jaxon didn’t say much. Whether it was the Gate of the Sixth Sense or a hole, Enkrid couldn’t grasp it from the beginning.

It was a morning training session. The standing army was comprised of people who made training their profession. They weren’t professional soldiers for nothing.

They were all training their bodies. Rem, who was in the center of the long corridor, dedicated to his training, suddenly stopped.

“Let’s stop here for today.”

“Alright.”

Rem stepped into the quarters, leaving Enkrid behind. It wasn’t that he had given up. He never thought that. He just realized that what was needed now was not simple sparring.

“Real combat.”

Esther glanced up at him as he mumbled this after entering the quarters. The other squad members’ eyes also brushed over Rem.

Soon, for the first time since joining the squad, Ragna, Audin, Rem, and Jaxon were united in agreement. When Enkrid came inside, Jaxon grabbed his arm and spoke.

“Take a request.”

“Huh?”

“It’s time for real combat. It’d be great to throw you onto the battlefield and see if you survive, but that’s not possible right now.”

Rem added.

They all seemed to share the same opinion. Enkrid was surprised by their attitude.

‘I knew they wouldn’t give up.’

But he didn’t expect them to talk like this, united. Even the lazy Ragna actively participating was surprising. The four were of one mind. It was a scene Enkrid thought he’d never see even in his dreams.

“Nyaa.”

Esther cried from underfoot. Enkrid picked up the panther and said:

“I was thinking the same thing.”

He wasn’t throwing his life away to repeat today. However, Enkrid had always honed his body and swung his sword on the battlefield and in real combat.

If he trained and honed his skills, it was only natural to want to test them. Talented bastards might shake off the plateau and rise easily. However, he had no such talent and he had to roll his body and learn what he lacked.

‘If you’re blocked and stopped.’

Just do something. As he always did, whether he had to struggle or dance, Enkrid would grasp at straws.

That was how he had lived his life.

“Let’s go out tomorrow morning to take on a request. Hopefully, a beast extermination.”

“There seems to be one.”

Enkrid had already looked into it.

“It seems you’ve already thought about it.”

Jaxon said. Enkrid replied as he scratched Esther’s head with his fingertips.

“Yes.”

Jaxon had said it countless times. What is the Gate of the Sixth Sense? To open it, you had to peek into the realm of instinct. Is it possible to perceive something with an invisible sense, not the five senses?

“It’s possible. However, it’s not truly an invisible sense. When a beast hunts or runs, where do you think the instinct to judge in seconds comes from? What about the sense herbivores use to escape predators?”

Jaxon had explained his definition of the sixth sense. Human senses weren’t limited to seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and feeling.

Balance, position, movement, temperature, etc. The human body was composed of various senses. If you fought while sharpening every sense you had like a blade.

In the realm of instinct, you would naturally learn to read, predict, and react to killing intent. At that point, you would be able to dodge a knife coming at your back.

“Anyone can do it when they become a knight. Actual knights receive this training too.”

From Jaxon’s last words, Enkrid felt his rough kindness. It was unlike him, but it was a kindness characteristic of Jaxon.

“Understood.”

It was knight’s training. So don’t give up.

With encouragement.

Since he used beasts as an example, he thought about encountering similar magical beasts. The instincts of magical beasts should be similar.

The killing intent they exuded would be more raw than Jaxon’s. Of course, not everything went according to Enkrid’s plans.

“A request? Then start with this one. We don’t have enough people on our side.”

The next morning, as they searched for a beast extermination request, a squad leader from the adjacent platoon abruptly made a request.

A shoemaker wanted them to investigate strange noises coming from his shop at night. It seemed like there was some undead monster living underneath.

“If something like that existed in the city, it would have caused an uproar by now.”

“I know, but what can you do? Completing one request gets you merit points, and that’s good. Let’s take care of it quickly. If you have time, lend a hand. I mean, I did some sewing for you before.”

That’s right. He was the squad leader who had sewn for him when he first surpassed today. The squad leader who loved alcohol.

In the end, he nodded.

After agreeing, he planned to relieve the shoemaker's anxiety and leave. What monster would come out from under his shop floor?

While getting ready at the quarters.

“Weren’t you going to take on the beast extermination request?”

Jaxon habitually dropped the honorific at the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, going to this first.”

He had already told them he was going to the beast extermination request. He planned to head there right after finishing this. This real combat would be helpful in many ways.

‘The sword, the senses, the heart, the way to use the body.’

He felt he would grasp something by slaying magical beasts. He arrived at the shoemaker's house.

“Look here. I finally opened it up and found this!”

The shoemaker was agitated. Enkrid was surprised too. There was a hole in the floor of the shoemaker’s house.

Inside, there was a visible artificial cave.

“Wait, I’ll go in first.”

He listened for sounds inside, but it was silent. Enkrid spoke and put his foot into the hole the shoemaker had opened.

‘I’ll need a torch.’

It wasn’t total darkness. Thanks to the light filtering through the hole, he could see a bit ahead. It was a sloped passage. Going down wasn’t difficult.

After entering and walking a bit forward, he felt like he was in a dungeon made by a sorcerer or monster. He hadn’t walked many steps.

Light from the candle lit above still filtered down his back. That’s when he encountered six branching paths.

“What kind of madman built this?”

He muttered to himself. It reeked of something artificial. Enkrid stepped into the first passage on the left of the six. There was no indication of anything. He walked a few more steps inside.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Aside from the sound of the wind passing through the passage, there was no sign or sound of anything.

However.

Buzz—

Soon, he heard a faint vibration. Enkrid saw a flash explode before his eyes.

Boom.

He heard a loud explosion, and something like a hot iron skewer seemed to invade his lungs and stir his insides.

Then his memory cut off, and morning came again. Naturally, Enkrid knew why this had happened.

‘I died.’

The last sensation remaining in his body was heat. That meant it was the heat. How he died was something he had to figure out from now on.

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