WeTried Translations x Flame Comics

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 160: Side ep. Shaving the Beard, And (4)

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“You are the next-generation Hero Party.”

No one objected. They had all expected it. Even if it was an honor too great to bear, no one was surprised to hear they had been chosen.

Ivan thought it was because of the customs of this uncivilized pre-modern age. They were accustomed to a noble culture in which positions were inherited along with succession to a house.

Inheritance was so commonplace that people naturally believed a Hero’s daughter should become a Hero, and a knight’s son should become a knight. As the Hero Party’s children, they accepted it as a matter of course.

“It is not a matter of course.”

Ivan spoke firmly, looking over the room as it grew slightly colder.

“Nothing you received without effort is something you are entitled to. Isabelle, you may be Maximilian’s daughter, but that does not mean you can be compared to Maximilian when he was your age.”

He had singled out Isabelle, but it was not her problem alone. Unlike during the war, this age was relatively peaceful.

The heroes who had lived through that time had always needed to struggle to survive. Things were different now. Society had become a place where people received preferential treatment without proving themselves, simply by standing in the glow of their parents.

That was not wrong. Civilization should naturally be like that. But they were facing destruction.

The Hero Party could not simply be the children of Heroes. They had to become Heroes through their own strength.

After all, the need for a Hero Party meant trials of that scale were coming.

“My parents... the parents of this body, were tenant farmers. I was conscripted into the militia, stood on the front lines, and survived thirty years on the battlefield to stand here.”

Ivan continued, his eyes hollow. The group was no longer focused on his changed appearance. They were listening to his words.

“This will be a long story. This is the story of your parents and...”

Ivan met each of their eyes in turn. Behind them, he seemed to see the Hero Party in their youth.

They had all scattered. Some could never return, while others could no longer move. They would never again gather together, share food and drink as they had then, laugh together, and reminisce.

Then he no longer saw those old figures. He saw the people before him, young and immature, yet smiling and chatting with hope in their hearts.

Yes. The age was not collapsing.

It was only the darkest moment before dawn.

It had to be.

“And those of you here as well.”

His gaze turned to the other members of the group, the transmigrators watching him tensely.

They were drifters from another world. Young exiles swept here by some law or intention of the world, each living out their own story.

Their identities had to remain known only within this room. Fortunately, everyone here could be trusted.

They had been swept into this world, but this world was not fundamentally kind to humans. They, too, needed to prepare in their own way.

“It will be everyone’s story. Let us begin with the story of Maximilian, the Demon King, and me.”

And so, the long story began.

* * *

Both Maximilian and the Demon King had been transmigrators, like Ivan and several others here.

Unlike the origins of Ivan and the students, Maximilian’s and the Demon King’s origins as transmigrators were not particularly shocking. The Hero was said to have descended from the heavens, while the Demon King was said to have appeared one day and subjugated the demonfolk.

Considering how strangely vague both of their early years were, calling them transmigrators explained much of it. High-ranking nobles knew that people like them had appeared occasionally throughout history.

Yet transmigrators, just like the Demon King and the Hero, always left some mark on history, as though the world itself had made arrangements for them to achieve such great deeds.

So it was inevitable that the group’s eyes turned toward the transmigrators.

“Uncle...”

Isabelle murmured quietly. The other students might have been transmigrators, but they had not shown anything especially remarkable, so she still could not truly feel their significance.

“I-I’m the top student in the Knight Department...”

“The Lord contacts me directly. You could say we’re fairly close.”

“I’m an elf. I live a long time.”

Even if they were transmigrators, they had not shown anything especially remarkable. Isabelle still could not truly feel their significance.

Ignoring the transmigrators spouting strange things, Isabelle turned her gaze back to Ivan.

That man was different. There was no need to explain how.

Had he said superiority was not passed down through bloodlines? No, it was nearly obvious, nearly certain, that it was.

Noble children were born with an innate aptitude for mana control. Only people like that had become nobles in the first place, and they had maintained their positions by passing down those inherited traits.

With that foundation, they received better educations and ate better food. When they married into other noble families and had children, their descendants grew superior to the previous generation.

In noble society, stagnation meant decline. If they failed to improve with every generation, they would be left behind. Every noble house that failed to keep up with that growth had vanished into history.

It was common sense. The Hero Party itself proved it. None of them had been born ordinary or lowly.

‘But Uncle came from tenant farmers.’

If that was true, then it made sense that Ivan was also a transmigrator. For a conscript from a tenant farming family to become a man like him, he would have needed to come from somewhere like that.

How many people knew this fact? She could not have been the first. But...

‘No one else is like me.’

If her father, Maximilian, had also been a transmigrator, then... could they not be considered people from the same homeland? Strictly speaking, she was a hybrid of this world and another.

Isabelle clenched her fist.

“And the Allied Kingdoms will certainly fall within five years.”

“Eek.”

The group had quietly listened to Ivan, taking in his words, but their faces stiffened again as they put down their utensils.

Eugene snorted as he watched them. They were going to get indigestion. Big brother had really come prepared.

“As I said during the Tilles civil war, Eugene can confirm certain matters quantitatively. This information has been cross-checked, so I will accept no objections.”

“Y-You mean the Lord truly tells you directly...?”

“That is right. Five years. That is how long the Allied Kingdoms can continue to exist.”

The atmosphere in the room turned cold at Ivan’s words. Out of nowhere, they were being told their country would fall in five years, and that the information had come in the name of a god.

How much could Eugene’s information be trusted? That was not the issue. Eugene was a priest, and if he spoke lies in the Lord’s name, he would be stripped of his position and divine power. Not by the church, but directly by the Lord.

Since that had not happened, this truly was a divine revelation. There was nothing more foolish than questioning something spoken in the name of a god, so the group quietly waited for Ivan to continue.

“No one can predict what will happen in five years. The Demon King may appear, or war with the demonfolk may begin again. But you need to understand that the Allied Kingdoms are far from peaceful right now.”

The Hero was gone. It could not be said that he had truly fallen. It was difficult to know his exact circumstances, but Ivan could not be certain it had ended in complete corruption.

If the Hero had truly lost himself, Tilles would already have fallen during the recent civil war. The moment he appeared and denounced the royal family, public sentiment would have abandoned the divided royal house.

Gilles Ver was dead. That did not simply mean one person had died. Gilles Ver had been the strongest active individual fighting force in the Allied Kingdoms.

Of those who had killed the Seven Dragon Generals, Gilles Ver alone had been free to move and publicly display his strength.

Einar could not leave Droan. Droan was a nation maintained solely by his authority. His absence would mean Droan’s division, with only the timing in question.

A few months ago, Alexander had even reached into Droan during the attempted kidnapping of Aesidis. He had used a Huscarl to attack Aesidis. If he still had more plots in motion, Einar could not leave his homeland.

‘Other than Beolgreen, the Hero Party’s combat power can no longer move.’

Beolgreen himself was moving so busily that he was difficult to find even in Kallion. Considering their conversation aboard the air warship, he was likely searching for Alexander now.

That meant the Allied Kingdoms no longer possessed anyone with strength comparable to a Seven Dragon General. The only question was how well the demonfolk understood that.

The demonfolk themselves were scattered without a central leader, which was why this strange balance had endured. But it was inevitable that the balance would break.

The Status Window said it would happen in five years.

‘Gilles Ver. You alone could have carried humanity for five more years.’

Ivan thought bitterly.

The reward initially given by the Status Window had been ten more years for the Allied Kingdoms. It had only been shortened to five with Gilles Ver’s death.

That meant Gilles Ver’s survival, no matter what condition he was in, would have extended the Allied Kingdoms’ lifespan by another five years simply by keeping him alive.

“The division of Krasilov and Tilles was stopped before it became a disaster. We headed off one crisis in Droan, but the situation there is not fully resolved. Kallion cannot even be predicted.”

If every nation had an arrangement intended to kill a member of the Hero Party, then Einar of Droan would have his own ordeal waiting for him as well.

So the immediate question was which of the two to choose.

“Kallion and Droan. We need to examine the situation in one of them. That will be our next destination.”

“Let’s go to Kallion!”

“Let’s go to Droan!!”

Ignoring the two voices, Ivan fell silent.

This was the time to gather information. If they moved recklessly and the other side collapsed, restoring it alone could threaten the continued existence of the Allied Kingdoms.

Droan or Kallion.

Einar’s survival or Beolgreen’s survival.

And who, exactly, could harm them?

‘As enemies no one could have anticipated appeared in Gilles Ver’s case.’

Who could have foreseen dozens of dragons sealed underground?

The problem was that this scenario’s plans would continue to work that way.

Some means to assassinate the Hero Party’s heroes lay in wait somewhere, and those who used it would raise armies to divide a nation in two.

If Ivan had not been there during the dwarven civil war, Enrika would have needed to act alone. She likely would have struggled to face Aviditas, so the dwarven civil war scenario itself had probably been the assassination method prepared for her.

‘No, there was also the god buried beneath Saint Yansk University.’

If Ivan had not broken the seal in advance and dealt with it himself, that god would have gathered strength over time and descended directly upon Pritchenkaya.

The capital of this country, which had barely patched up its civil war with the Crown Prince, would have had no power to stop such a disaster. Enrika would have needed to step forward herself.

Then, if the dwarven civil war had ended and Aviditas had attacked alongside a gathered army... Krasilov would have fallen.

Those two incidents had been resolved separately, but the “story” arranged for this world would have unfolded that way.

‘If something similar happens in Droan and Kallion, we cannot respond in advance.’

That was the problem. The lack of information. Krasilov’s situation could be detected beforehand through domestic intelligence, but even in Tilles, they had lost Gilles Ver and failed to prevent the civil war because they lacked information.

But failing once was enough.

Ivan opened his eyes. His deep blue eyes gleamed ominously.

‘There will never be another situation like that. Never.’

Ivan tapped the table and stood.

“We will end today’s meeting here.”

“What? But we haven’t decided anything yet.”

“That is not what we need to do right now.”

“What?”

Ivan gave the bewildered group a short answer.

“Finish preparing for your final exams. Whenever we move, it will be after vacation begins.”

Only one major incident happens per semester. That was common sense. An academy’s episodes were naturally divided between semesters and vacations.

They had stopped the Tilles civil war in the second semester, so it was only common sense that the next episode would begin during the coming winter vacation.

Ivan looked over the students staring blankly at him, then left the gathering.

“We had this entire discussion, and the conclusion is final exams?”

“How are we supposed to focus on finals after this...?”

“Ah, shouldn’t we be able to speak casually to Ivan now?”

“What kind of crazy talk is that?”

“Why not? We decided party members would speak casually to each other.”

At Eugene’s words, Isabelle sighed as she cleared the dishes.

“Go ahead and try. If you come back alive, I’ll drop the formalities too.”

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Footnotes:

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