WeTried Translations x Flame Comics

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 106: 15. Real Combat Is Standard for Academy Summer Vacation Events (11)

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* * *

-Stop.

“Kh...!!”

Ignak ground his teeth. Every time he tightened his grip, the artifact issued a fierce warning. Move even an inch farther, and he would die. He would certainly die.

Even now, death lay in wait somewhere deep within the forest beyond.

No, “even now” was not quite right. Thinking back, he had never once escaped that man's gaze since entering this forest.

Only now did he understand why they had kidnapped him and the other leaders, slowly reduced his warband, and then made them play the part of puppets like this.

The future shown by the artifact, along with the insight gradually sharpening as mana was injected into his body, whispered an unmistakable truth.

“Me... Me and my brothers. You dared, you dared use us as puppets?”

Rage swallowed fear. Ignak bared his teeth and raised his head.

He flung aside the human youth he had been holding and closed his eyes for a moment. The sharp scent of blood drifted from between the charred bodies of his brothers. He could faintly smell the brothers he had led to their deaths and gotten slaughtered.

He had surrendered to fear. To prolong his own life, he had crawled miserably through the dirt and sold his brothers to their deaths. He had done it willingly. To all demonfolk, strength was proof of existence. Which also meant life was the right of the strong.

If one survived, there would be another chance. That was the belief of the defeated demonfolk living in this age.

But now, as he gripped this unknown artifact called the Eye of the Demon King, at this very moment, with pitch-black mana of unknown origin being injected into his veins.

He had returned to being the centurion of the [2nd Dragon General’s 103rd Infantry Battalion, 23rd Strike Company], only now, and cowardly at that.

Ignak drew in a deep breath. Each pounding beat of his heart drove fear back with rage.

There was no path to survival anyway. Even if he slaughtered these children, that “death” would not let him go. Now that he possessed this insight, he understood his position clearly.

Then, at least...

“Kraaaaaaaaaah!!”

Ignak let out a thunderous roar. With eyes burning red, he looked down at the child holding a sword before him.

A frail body, slender arms, and clothes far too simple for this place. Hair that gleamed even beneath the dust, and a clean face.

He would not end his life as a puppet for some human noble child. Ignak ground his teeth and raised his staff.

“Tumor!! I offer my atonement in battle!!”

With a roar, Ignak leaped toward the child.

* * *

-Thud! Thud! Thud!

The ground shook. Or perhaps it was only Isabelle's heartbeat, tightened by fear.

Isabelle brushed her bitter smile away and held her sword straight. The orc charged toward her like an enraged bull.

It felt as though a wall was rushing at her. Considering the difference in height and build, the gap truly was that great. Judging by his momentum alone, he was close to fighting at full strength.

A leader. A powerful enemy that had crushed Oscar within seconds.

Was she afraid?

Of course.

As Isabelle slowly drew up her mana, she thought about it. Fear was natural. This was not her first battle with demonfolk, and she had faced enemies of that level during the attack on the university-bound train.

Still, struggle. Fighting. Real combat.

It was always frightening.

Even so, would she give up? Even in that moment?

“No chance!!”

Within the slowly fragmented time, amid the heavy footsteps shaking the earth, while her fierce heartbeat still hammered in her chest.

Isabelle was aware of Oscar lying fallen, Aesidis behind her, and Elphihara, who had exhausted all her mana.

-Draw your sword.

Remembering the vow from that day.

-Stand with the weak, and see through the eyes of the weak.

-Draw your sword not for your strength, but for the good you uphold.

-The reason we draw our swords is not our courage, strength, or superiority.

“Because it is simply right!!”

Isabelle shouted. Because it was right, for the just cause that had to be protected.

For the friends behind her. For her “uncle,” who might already have died somewhere in that forest.

To save them all, everyone within her reach, if possible. To save them with everything she had.

No one could die before her. If someone had to fall, it would only be after she finally drew her last breath.

No one here gets to die before I do.

At last, Isabelle's time began to sway and distort.

Time fragmented. Her senses became a schematic.

-Click.

It was as if she could hear the second hand of a clock catching into place. It was a hallucination caused by nerves stretched endlessly by an overload of mana.

The air was heavy. The blade felt even heavier. Her arm, still numb from the electricity coursing through it, was difficult to use. It was not easy. The sword path she had followed all her life felt unfamiliar.

Still, she swung.

-Kaaang!!

Staff and sword collided. Sparks flew, and the orc's massive face suddenly drew close through them. His protruding fangs gleamed menacingly.

Lives collided. The more steadfast one would survive here.

So even if she finally fell today, she prayed only that she could draw breath for one moment longer than this enemy.

So she did not stop. She was being outmatched in strength, build, and perhaps even technique. Even so, she raised her sword, swung it, cut, swept it upward, and struck.

-Kak! Kaaang!!

Even as sweat and blood blurred her vision, Isabelle's eyes remained sharply focused, fixed only on the enemy's heart.

* * *

“Cough...!!”

Oscar opened his eyes through the pain. The fierce ringing of clashing weapons echoed distantly in his ears.

When was the last time he had been hurt this badly?

The dwarves' attack during their first field exercise. Ah, his leg had broken when he fell then. It had not been that long ago after all.

Oscar forced a smile through his stiff cheeks.

His left hand was broken. His sword was too heavy to wield with only his right arm. Once he returned to Pritchenkaya, he would order a one-handed weapon, one he could swing even with a broken arm.

For now, he would call this practice. He gripped the hilt tightly in his right hand.

-Kaaang!!

Oscar forced his swollen, misshapen eyes open. Isabelle was fighting not far away.

She swung her sword at incredible speed, but every strike was blocked. The orc's attacks were heavy and slow, yet each blow alone was enough to drive Isabelle's slender body back.

The difference in build and physical strength was overwhelming, but from where he stood, Oscar could see the decisive factor.

That orc's intuition must be extraordinary.

He did not seem especially skilled. Oscar had not sensed that when they crossed blades. It was simply intuition. Perhaps he even possessed an ability like combat foresight.

Again and again, Oscar had watched him read an attack path in advance and respond before a strike was even launched. He was doing so even now, and he had done so moments before.

Oscar grumbled. How was anyone supposed to beat someone like that?

He could not match him in strength or mana. If even his technique did not work, how was he supposed to win?

Even so.

“I have to save her.”

Oscar smiled and raised his sword. Limping, he stepped toward the battlefield. He circulated the little mana he had left and entered the space where blades flashed too fast to see.

He was Gilles Ver's son. The eldest son of the Defender Duke of Tilles, and a knight invested by Tilles. There was only one duty a knight had to fulfill.

Always be righteous.

Those who were merely strong were not called knights. Nor were those who simply rode horses and charged into battle.

A knight was a symbol. A symbol that proved people could remain good even in the darkest moments. Even knowing that not every person was good at every moment, and that this world held more wicked people than good ones.

Even if it was foolish. Even if it was stupid. Even if it brought neither profit nor honor.

One had to prove that people could be good, and that they could devote themselves completely to goodness.

Always be righteous. That was what Tilles taught.

So, draw your sword.

His right arm was far too healthy to run away while being protected by a girl his own age.

Even if it was only a little, mana still remained in his body.

He could still fight.

“I have to protect them.”

Time moved slowly. The blade rose little by little. In this dim hour of death within the forest night, where moonlight and campfires were the only sources of light.

The morning star blazed.

* * *

Aesidis had not been able to avoid Elphihara's lightning strike. It had been too close.

Half-conscious, she watched her two friends charge at the massive orc.

The Knight Department really was something.

She could not help thinking that. They had learned how to fight, unlike her. She was only a little stronger than most. She had never taken knight classes.

Just a music department student. The daughter of the Hero Party, who had run away to study music.

As that thought crossed her mind, she looked down at herself.

She was still standing.

Her whole body trembled after being struck by lightning, but she was still standing on both feet.

It felt as though she would collapse to her knees at any moment. Her shaking muscles screamed in agony.

Then her father's voice reached her through her dazed ears.

-Kneeling means you still have the strength to bend your knees, doesn't it?

-Droan warriors walk forward as long as their knees can move.

‘But what if I really feel like I'm going to die?’

-Look at the sky, Esi. Can you see the stars?

‘Yes, Dad.’

-The stars are the sword tips of your ancestors, tearing through the darkness. Droan warriors always walk forward.

-Not just until the moment they die. Even after death. If there is a fight, forward. If you can still move, forward. If you still have the mind to think.

-Forward.

-Not even death can stop a Droan warrior. We do not avoid death. We believe that death, too, can someday be killed, just as your ancestors did.

-Forward.

“Forward.”

Aesidis picked up the axe the orc had dropped with both hands and began to walk.

A music department student was not needed right now. This was the moment for a Droan warrior.

She could still move, still think, and there was still an enemy to face.

Forward.

* * *

“You idiots, you humans...!! Every last one of you!!”

Elphihara pressed down on her bleeding nose and grumbled. The backlash from using too many spells had left her without even enough mana to maintain her far-sight spell, so she was running.

Toward the place where her companions were fighting. She desperately pushed through bushes and thickets, her skin scratched raw.

“Don't you dare die yet!!”

Elphihara ran through a vision stained red. How much mana did she have left? Obviously not even a speck! Did these humans not understand the meaning of tactical withdrawal? They had to survive first before they could do anything!

What a short-sighted race. They were exactly like hunting dogs. Loyal animals that latched onto their prey and refused to let go until death.

They were thoughtless, frail, smelly, and gave her allergies.

But humans and puppies shared one more trait. Those superior to them had to protect them. That was an elf's duty.

Yes, protecting vulnerable races was the burden of the civilized. It couldn't be helped. Really.

Elphihara snickered and held out her hand. If she had no mana, she would gather the mana in the air and swallow it whole. A spell cast through such an inefficient method could not possibly amount to much.

Still.

-Crack!!

The fierce backlash made bloody tears flow from her eyes. Her nose began bleeding again. Her fingertips shook.

Still.

“I am Grikenkos.”

Even if her mana had run dry, she had to be able to weave a spell. Only then could she call herself Beolgreen's daughter.

Honor and pride were everything to her. She refused to give up, stretching out her arm and aiming at the orc's head.

She closed one eye and took aim.

She circulated mana and aligned it.

Click. As if hearing gears turn, she thought, Mm-hmm, good. The tempo and alignment are perfect. Of course they are. I'm a genius.

She had to save the humans.

Fire.

* * *

“Commander, firing... I'll fire.”

“Wait.”

Ivan quietly reached out and pushed down the barrel of his adjutant's gun.

“Our role is only to watch.”

“But that is... too much for students!”

“For students, yes.”

Ivan answered without taking his eyes off the battlefield.

“But it is necessary for someone who has only just taken the first step toward becoming a Hero.”

Follow me.

Ivan gestured with his chin and jumped down from the tree.

He wanted to watch today's battle, which might become the opening line of a long epic, from a little closer.

His role had always been one step behind, both during the war and now.

He could not stand among those protagonists and share their spotlight.

Still, Ivan ran as he had in those days.

He had never liked the Hero very much. Maximilian had been a madman.

But he admired him.

Even after Maximilian turned his back on the world and secluded himself, Ivan still did.

And even now, as he watched new Heroes being born.

* * *

Footnotes:

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