WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 87: You Must Kill Those Who Deserve to Die

"You have to learn how to read and respond to your opponent's moves."

While being hit by Rem, listening to Jaxon talk about the Sixth Sense, wringing his body dry with Audin's Isolation Technique, and even while training diligently in swordsmanship with Ragna, his skills improved steadily, albeit slowly.

"Doesn't it feel frustrating?"

Ragna would often ask Enkrid this question. Frustrating? There was no reason for that. Ragna's teachings were a guidepost, pointing the way after mastering the basics.

How long had Enkrid wandered, lost without direction? Now, with each step forward, he could see new paths open before him, and that was simply enjoyable.

What should you do when your opponent strikes with a sword? What if your opponent is a monster? What if someone suddenly thrusts a spear from behind? How should you respond in any given situation?

After mastering the basics, the next step was learning how to apply them. But you can't prepare for every possible scenario. It's all about mastering the fundamentals, which, of course, wasn't easy.

"I thought this would be over quickly."

Ragna said, but he was wrong. Enkrid knew he had no particular talent. If he had, would he have struggled so much? Probably not.

But he didn't waste time lamenting. Instead, he chose to swing his sword one more time.

"The application of swordsmanship is only meaningful when you can read and respond to your opponent's moves."

Whether facing monsters, beasts, or enemy soldiers, it's all about observing their movements, distinguishing between feints and real attacks, and then striking with your sword.

Ragna taught tirelessly. Although Enkrid never got tired of learning, his progress was excruciatingly slow. He knew he was slow and lacking. He knew he had to put in several times more effort than others.

That was why he turned everything around him— every situation, environment, and every fleeting moment into tools for his growth.

That’s how Enkrid lived. As he delved deeper into the tunnel, four wolf beasts suddenly sprang out. Their barks echoed, and they charged without giving him a moment to breathe.

With powerful strides, the wolf beasts charged, their menacing eyes reflecting the torchlight, making their yellowed fangs glow red.

‘The Heart of the Beast.’

This gave him the courage to remain unfazed even with a blade right before his eyes. It wasn’t any different now.

Enkrid remained calm. In the time it took to take a breath, the wolf beasts had already closed the distance. Enkrid instinctively combined his knowledge of swordsmanship with his honed reflexes.

This reflexive response, born out of courage, would serve as another stepping stone in his growth.

'There is no better training than real combat.'

The only downside was that it required risking his life every time. He couldn't afford to waste today. If he had only wanted to live day by day, he would have farmed and prayed for the gods' blessings instead of chasing his dreams.

Even though he cherished today, he had to risk his life to move forward. This was the only way Enkrid could sing the song of his dreams.

He wasn’t charging in to die; he was risking his life to survive. Trusting his instincts, and following them.

Snap!

The sound of the wolf beast's teeth snapping shut echoed right before him. Enkrid evaded the bite by stepping back with his left foot and swung his sword down, using his elbow to guide the blade.

Crack! Clang!

Instead of slicing, he struck with the flat of the blade. The weighty blow to the head sent the wolf beast crashing to the ground. As he completed the swing, he naturally took a step to the left.

The torch he had tossed earlier still burned, casting its light. With a step to the left, Enkrid avoided the wolf's forepaw, which aimed for his abdomen.

A swoosh of air passed through the space where his stomach had been moments before. Had it connected, his gambeson would have been shredded to pieces.

Beasts like these were monsters, with the characteristics of wild animals. Two of the wolves cunningly tried to circle behind him.

They must have thought they had an opening. The two beasts lunged at his thighs, jaws agape, filled with rows of teeth like short, serrated knives.

Screech!

A sharp noise filled the dark tunnel, illuminated by a single torch. In an instant, Enkrid flicked his wrist, and the next moment, a Whistling Dagger was embedded in the forehead of one charging wolf beast.

It all happened with blinding speed.

Meanwhile, as the other wolf lunged, Enkrid withdrew his thigh and simultaneously raised his knee, executing a simultaneous dodge and strike.

Thunk.

It wasn't a strong enough blow to stop the beast. The wolf beast tried to pin Enkrid’s foot to the ground with its forepaw, displaying its powerful leg muscles.

Enkrid evaded the paw aiming for his foot by stepping back, then positioned himself between the two beasts, effectively cutting off their advance.

He was surrounded.

Despite the peril, Enkrid’s focus wasn’t solely on the two wolf beasts. He concentrated and concentrated further.

Unlike before, time didn't seem to slow. Nor did everything else fade away, leaving only dots and lines. Instead, he could clearly see the wolves’ movements.

He could predict their next moves in his mind. When their movements became clear to him, Enkrid’s actions became simpler. There was no need to complicate things by trying to deceive and overwhelm them.

Letting his sword hang, he swung it wide. The tunnel was too narrow for horizontal slashes, but it was tall enough for large vertical arcs.

The Heavy Swordsmanship Style was defined by its simplicity. What did he learn in the basics? It was a style that focused on breaking with a single blow.

The two wolf beasts lunged simultaneously. Enkrid executed the move he had envisioned in his mind.

Wham! Crack! Crunch!

The longsword, wielded with all his might, did its job. The first wolf beast’s chest, jaw, and head were cleaved in half. The one caught by the descending arc had its head shattered.

Had his timing been off, he would have been bitten somewhere by one of the beasts. This strike was a show of pure power.

“Huaa.”

Enkrid exhaled the breath he had been holding, calming his racing heart.

'One left.'

Only one wolf beast remained. As the remaining beast hesitated, Enkrid suddenly leapt to its left side instead of charging head-on.

The beast didn’t even seem to notice, leaping toward the direction he had moved. Using his left foot as a pivot, he followed his intuition, honed through years of training.

He pushed off the ground with his left foot and thrust his sword forward. The tip of his blade pierced through the wolf’s open mouth and out the back of its skull.

Squelch!

With a sickening sound, the wolf's weight pressed down on his arms. Enkrid let go of his strength, allowing the beast to fall limply to the ground.

Planting his foot on the wolf's head, which now had a gaping hole, he pulled out his sword. A spurt of blood splattered on the ground as the beast’s body twitched and shook.

The last wolf beast let out a weak whimper before its life finally faded away. Lowering his arms, Enkrid reflected on what he had just done.

'I can see it.'

The wolf beasts' movements were simple, guided purely by instinct, and that instinct triggered his Sixth Sense. With perfect focus and the sharp awareness that came from that instinct, he had strung together a series of flawless strikes.

'I can do this.'

Now, he felt he could finally show Ragna the application of swordsmanship he had talked about. Reading the opponent’s intentions and movements.

All that remained was to execute the basic sword techniques he had drilled into his body. Even deceiving his opponent followed the same principle.

"You’ve always known how to do this. It's just a matter of formalizing it into your body."

Ragna’s words echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. He had always known. But there was a world of difference between knowing something and truly understanding it. It was like comparing a cat to a tiger.

Enkrid clenched and unclenched his hand, turning the thought over in his mind as he moved forward, torch in hand. Even as he pressed on, his mind was filled with thoughts of his sword.

For those with talent, one attempt would be enough to master it. But not for Enkrid. He had to constantly rehearse and reflect. Everything he did was an exercise in training.

After that, he encountered no more monsters or beasts. Instead, he found a tunnel connected to the sewers at the end of the passage. Only then did something else come into focus.

‘This bastard’s insane.’

To think he would dig a tunnel like this. What was the purpose of this?

Spell traps were expensive. They weren't cheap rat traps. Yet someone had gone through the trouble of laying them down, blocking all six paths.

Why go to such lengths? What could be hiding beyond this? The answer to his question soon became clear.

“You sick bastard.”

The words slipped from his mouth. Following the foul stench of the sewer, Enkrid found himself in a horrific scene.

The torchlight revealed gruesome displays hung like laundry all around him. Instead of clothing, it was human entrails, flesh, and bones— an unspeakable scene of carnage.

Even for someone like Enkrid, who had seen his fair share of horrors, this was nauseating.

‘This bastard...’

The person responsible for this had to die. He was someone who deserved to be killed. After all, wasn't it a knight’s duty to rid the world of such filth?

Enkrid knew that dreaming alone didn’t make someone a knight. But he also knew that he couldn’t just walk away from this. Among the grotesque displays, some human figures remained intact.

One of them appeared to be alive. The person blinked a few times and tried to speak.

"Grkk..."

No words could be formed. It was understandable. How could someone who was reduced to just a head manage to speak?

The fact that the person’s eyes were still open and trying to speak was grotesque in itself.

"Grkk... Grk..."

What were they trying to say?

It was impossible to guess. If it were Enkrid in that position, he would have begged for death. He couldn't comprehend how they were moving in that state.

A rope was threaded through the skull, but how it was done was beyond him, and he didn't want to know either. Despite all the horrors he had faced, this scene was truly revolting.

“What the hell are you?”

A voice cut through the silence. Enkrid’s gaze shifted toward the source. At the end of the path lined with human remains, in a corner of the sewer, he saw the face of the perpetrator.

A young man with pale skin and a ghostly complexion. He wore a drab green robe, and his hair was long.

Enkrid spoke.

"This is your handiwork, isn't it?"

The man seemed to ponder for a moment before muttering to himself.

"…How did you get here? Is this a sign that the gods love me? To bring me a test subject like this, without me even lifting a finger... Let's see. You seem to be part of the Standing Army, well-trained, aren't you? Good, good."

The young man's voice was light and cheerful. He sounded like a blacksmith who had just received high-quality iron.

Or like a merchant who had just closed a profitable deal. In a way, he resembled a pure-hearted youth confessing his feelings.

It was bizarre, truly bizarre.

“What should I turn you into?”

Enkrid raised his torch higher, illuminating the shadows behind the man.

There, half-hidden in the darkness, was a grotesque figure pieced together from various body parts. It was propped up against the wall.

Its eyes were closed, and it gave no sign of breathing. To Enkrid, it appeared to be a corpse.

“Isn't it beautiful? This will be my masterpiece. I call it Vamilo.”

Enkrid had reached his conclusion. There was no need for further conversation. This guy was completely insane.

Enkrid hurled the torch.

The torch spun through the air, tracing a long, circular arc toward the madman's head.

Thunk.

But the madman simply raised his hand, deflecting the torch with ease. He was a spellcaster— a wizard.

But so what? Was that a reason to stop?

No.

Those who deserve to die must die. Enkrid had thrown the torch and seen it deflected with a mere gesture, but he did not stop his advance.

He kicked off the ground, lowering his body. He slid across the slimy sewer floor, rushing forward with a swift hiss of movement.

With the momentum of his charge, he swung his sword upward. The diagonal slash cut through the darkness left behind by the vanished torch.

Esther usually stayed close by at night, but when Enkrid was in the city, she would sometimes wander the area. Of course, there were days when she didn’t.

‘Just sticking close at night is enough.’

She didn’t always have to be by his side. It was one of those days when she would normally just lounge around the barracks, killing time.

Gaaang.

Farewell.

She sent Enkrid off, but he caught her off guard, flicking her nose with his finger.

Kyaaang!

That bastard?

“I’m off.”

And then he left. After that, Esther secretly followed Enkrid.

‘What are you up to that made you flick my nose?’

Her stalking was driven by pure curiosity. Esther followed because of a capricious gesture from Enkrid. It hadn’t happened during the last repetition.

Tock, tock.

The black panther moved lightly and swiftly across the rooftops and walls, careful to remain unseen by others. Her steps were as silent and graceful as a breeze.

Moving unseen was effortless for her. Thus, Esther stepped into the underground space where Enkrid had ventured.

‘What are you up to this time?’

It was pure curiosity. But then she caught the foul scent of magic from where Enkrid had gone.

‘This could end badly.’

If she wasn't careful, her chosen human might end up dead. That would be troublesome since she still needed him.

She had to check what was going on inside. Detecting spell traps was no challenge for Esther. Once, she had sung of stars and had been a witch who embraced the stars.

These crude traps were nothing to her. She watched as Enkrid fought the ghouls.

‘Have his skills improved?’

She wasn't an expert in swordsmanship, but she had watched Enkrid closely every single day.

‘I see. He has improved.’

She could see the growth. Then, when Enkrid fought the wolf beasts, Esther found herself puzzled.

‘What’s going on?’

Enkrid was moving as if possessed. Through the darkness, Esther’s eyes tracked his movements, trying to understand them.

He swung his sword, slashed, and stabbed. He kicked and kneed the wolves. It seemed like a chaotic struggle, but Enkrid didn’t sustain any significant injuries.

Only a few scratches on his armor, and even those were superficial. Was it possible to emerge unscathed from such a fierce battle?

‘Were the beasts only half as strong?’

That didn’t seem to be the case.

Of course, if she had regained her full power, these beasts or monsters wouldn’t have dared to lift their heads toward her.

‘But he keeps going?’

By now, he should have turned back. But Enkrid continued forward, eventually reaching that horrific scene, which Esther also witnessed.

The sight didn’t shock her. She had encountered many crazed spellcasters in her time. She knew right away that there was a wizard behind this.

‘What should I do?’

Should she help him against the wizard? Should she use the meager power she had accumulated so far? If she did, it would take even longer to regain her full strength.

She had infused some of her energy into Enkrid’s armor, but...

‘This is such a hassle.’

In the end, she decided to wait and see. Esther concealed herself and continued to follow Enkrid, watching as he confronted the wizard.

Enkrid exchanged a few words with the man before launching into an attack. And then Esther was shocked, truly shocked.

It was justified.

Through the darkness, hidden and observing, the Lake Panther’s eyes were fixed on Enkrid.

The man was pulling off impossible feats.

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