WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 55: 10. Stalker vs Stalker (10)
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* * *
The diplomatic residence was neither the Demon King's Castle nor the Monarch's Residence where the Seven Dragon Generals lived, so it had an ordinary layout, much like most government offices.
In other words, it was several floors of sterile white corridors lined with offices.
That was somewhat unusual. A residence was supposed to be a building for living in, not administration.
Still, one had to remember that Krasilov's Foreign Minister was the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince of a nation was hardly going to live in a diplomatic residence.
As a result, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs used the diplomatic residence as a multipurpose office building. It was a royal favor, of sorts. If anyone wanted to sleep, they could sleep “comfortably” at the office. A benefit fit for royalty.
“This is...”
Ivan frowned as he made his way through the third floor of the residence. He had reached the middle of the five-story building without seeing a single office worker. Every person who came at him had been an armed soldier.
The low-grade sort that barely rose above mercenaries.
“This feels like a Chapter One stage...”
At that point, Ivan realized his mistake.
If the Hero Party's children were the protagonists, then of course enemies, challenges, quests, and other hostile forces would appear as they progressed through the story.
That explained the strange sense of clumsiness and incompetence he had felt.
Q) Why did they kidnap the Hero Party's children instead of killing them on the spot?
A) Because the players had to choose their characters and clear the stage.
Q) Why were there only low-level mercenaries swarming through the diplomatic residence?
A) Because the ordinary monsters in Chapter One could not be excessively strong.
Q) What in the world was the Counterintelligence Command doing while the Hero Party's children were kidnapped one by one?
A) Because that was how arcade games worked.
Ah.
Damn.
Ivan let out a brief realization and a brief sigh at the same time. Then didn't that mean he shouldn't kill them all?
He blankly looked back. The sterile white corridor now looked as though someone had scattered buckets of red paint everywhere.
The perfectly functional diplomatic residence had instantly and successfully changed its business model into a thriving meat-processing plant, one unconcerned with sanitation. Ivan let out a deep sigh at the sight.
If he made a somewhat bold assumption, this episode had probably been a growth event for the Hero Party's children, the protagonists.
The canon route among them was likely Aesidis's growth.
Wasn't the entire intended purpose for her to overcome the kidnapping of the uncle she trusted, her Huscarl, and resolve the situation herself?
Ivan rubbed his chin and thought for a moment before shaking his head.
There was no way to know yet. Once something began rolling, it had to reach its destination before it could be completed. Getting off halfway because it did not seem right would accomplish exactly nothing.
He shook off his thoughts and climbed the stairs with his axe in hand.
* * *
The fourth floor of the diplomatic residence. The unlit corridor was quiet, with no sign of anyone.
Ivan walked through the corridor, where the only sound was rain striking the windows, and slowly tightened his grip on the axe.
His hearing gradually sharpened, accompanied by the familiar ringing in his ears.
“We were captured too.”
“Ah...”
The whispers belonged to the Hero Party's children. They came from the office directly ahead, one floor above.
The moment he pinpointed their location, Ivan moved.
Whether it was a stage, an episode, or a chapter, whatever this arrangement had been made for, the practical approach was to save them first and think about it afterward.
Considering how Isabelle's Tutorial difficulty had sharply increased after Aesidis's Tutorial, this event would affect the next one as well.
The events followed the logic of games, yet changed organically according to the political situation and the balance of power. That subtle difference between game and reality was making Ivan's head hurt.
-Piiing...
Then, from far away, came the sound of a thread snapping. The instant Ivan registered it, he bent at the waist.
His line-of-fire detection flared violently.
-Whooom...
-Kwaaaang!!
A greatsword flew into the spot where Ivan had been standing and buried itself in the floor. Ivan sprang back to open the distance, raising his axe.
The attack came almost at the same moment he detected the line of fire. An ordinary superhuman would have died if they had not already been prepared.
That meant this was an attack from a superhuman. Battles between superhumans were always like this.
The superhuman battlefield entered through sensory activation was not a technique that slowed time. It accelerated the nerves, allowing one to perceive time in fractions smaller than a second.
That meant one could not respond if caught by a superhuman ambush before the nervous acceleration took effect. In a superhuman's world, the logic of striking first despite moving later meant nothing. Whoever attacked first had the absolute advantage.
What developed to solve that problem was intuition. An instinct for ambushes, one step beyond line-of-fire detection.
If line-of-fire detection distinguished ordinary people from superhumans, intuition was the measure that distinguished one superhuman from another.
“You dodged that?”
Just from that, Dionar could tell what level Ivan had reached.
“Huh. My people sweated blood all over the place trying to scatter someone who could do that.”
“Dionar Erikson.”
“So it seems you've met me before. I'm good at remembering faces, but I can't guess who you are.”
“You don't need to know.”
Ivan raised his axe. Plink, plunk. The rhythm of raindrops hitting the window had already slowed.
It did not mean the summer rain had weakened. Time itself had stretched.
The conversation continued normally because the two people facing each other shared the same flow of time.
“This wasn't what Maximilian intended, was it? No. Maybe even this was that bastard's intention.”
“...”
“You're a quiet one. Fine. Talking isn't what we need right now.”
Dionar chuckled and flicked his fingers. Piiing, the greatsword embedded in the wall spun around at the sound of a snapping thread and flew into his grasp.
He clenched the greatsword in one hand and let the other hang at his side. Then Dionar raised the blade upright.
“Come. I'll see what you can do. I'll show you what “Hero Reserve” means.”
“Funny.”
Ivan gave a faint laugh.
The classification known as the “Hero Reserve” had, strictly speaking, been a concept created by Colonel Ivan Petrovich himself.
Ivan smiled at the strange feeling that stirred within him.
Back then, there had been no hierarchy in the Hero Party. Regardless of age, race, or position, they had all risked their lives to defeat the Demon King.
Those classified under the name “Hero Reserve” were different. If they could have stood alongside the Hero Party, they would not have been in the Hero Reserve. They would have climbed the Demon King's Castle together as active members.
Among those strong people classified as reserves, people who held an unrivaled position between the strong and superhumans, there was clearly a hierarchy.
Ivan was more than willing to teach Dionar what form it took.
He was a very polite man, after all, so he decided to personally correct his junior's arrogance.
As the only senior among those bearing the name “Hero Reserve” who had traveled alongside the Hero Party.
Kindly.
* * *
-Piiing!
With the sound of a snapping thread, whooom! The greatsword came straight down toward his head.
It was a fierce, powerful blow. The force of its vertical descent carried enough momentum to shatter boulders and smash down castle gates.
Ivan knocked aside the blade, tightly woven with mana, and twisted his body.
-Kwaaaang!!
The sword that skimmed past him slammed into the corridor. The floor collapsed with a massive crack. Ivan kicked off the crumbling foothold and leaped.
“Got you!”
Dionar grinned savagely and flicked his empty hand. Piiing! A strand of thread glittered in the air, in the darkness, with a sharp sound.
This one was a technician.
Rather than overpowering opponents with crushing force like Einar, he was the kind of warrior who controlled the entire battle through technique.
His large build and wild appearance made it easy to misunderstand, but his fighting style was closer to Beolgreen's.
He controlled space with mana threads, spun a web, and mixed in greatsword attacks.
There had been demonfolk who fought like that. In dark, cramped indoor spaces, booby traps alone were a tremendous threat.
Line-of-fire detection and intuition both reacted to attacks with intent behind them. A trap sitting in one place could only be handled through prior knowledge and quick thinking.
That was why the Hero Party needed a thief. Someone had to be well-versed in that sort of knowledge.
Malicious traps lurking in the dark.
Powerful attacks striking through the gaps between them.
Normally, it was a difficult pattern to overcome. It certainly had some difficulty to it. Ivan faintly smiled as he turned, deflected the attack, and thought about it.
Kids would be hard-pressed to take this on.
If this was a stage for the Hero Party's children, and this man was the boss, then the stage's purpose was probably to force them into learning the realm of superhumans.
It was the sort of fight that said, if you didn't know, you got hit. A remarkably malicious design.
But that was only when viewed from a child's level.
The Hero Party needed a thief precisely to deal with this sort of trap and enemy.
Which also meant that, while the Hero Party was active, they had encountered countless enemies like this.
Ivan had served as the Hero Party's scout, advancing through enemy territory in step with Enrika.
-Kiiing...
The axe glowed blue in the darkness.
-Slash...!
The threads caught on its blade snapped and fell away.
-Whoooom!!
He heard the vicious rush of the greatsword charging through that opening. The instant he heard it, he calculated the distance and speed. The instant that calculation ended, he turned his body and moved forward instead.
One step farther forward, cutting into the distance between them.
“Hahaha! That spot is already mine...”
“I know.”
Mana threads could be used as sensory organs in themselves. They were, literally, a structure like a spiderweb.
They restricted movement, twisted the direction of attacks, created openings, then drove the greatsword through those openings.
Ivan already knew this method.
And since he was an efficient man, he did not struggle twice with something he had already experienced.
-Kaaang!!
“H-How...!”
“Because I'm from the Hero Reserve.”
How could someone from the Hero Reserve be surprised by this much?
Ivan's axe smashed the greatsword away, and the severed threads fluttered, revealing their outlines.
Dionar staggered back and hurriedly reached out. Sssrrk, mana threads entwined around the deflected greatsword as it flew back toward him.
-Crunch.
It did not reach him. The greatsword floating in the air went into Ivan's grasp.
“You... bastard...!!”
Without answering, Ivan turned and drove the greatsword straight into Dionar's abdomen, then twisted away from the threads coiling toward him.
-Slash!!
At the same time, he swung his axe.
The gleaming blade cut through the air, drawing a smooth circle as it descended toward the floor. It severed everything caught in its path.
Threads, flesh, and fragments of bone split apart in a single stroke. Blood splashed across the pure white wall.
“Guh... uuuugh... Aaaagh!!”
“Screaming? Save your breath.”
Ivan approached Dionar, who had fallen to his knees while clutching his severed arm, and placed a foot on his chest.
Bang. He forced Dionar onto his back, stepped over him, and raised his axe.
“You have much to answer for. It would be a waste to spend your breath screaming.”
He did not have many breaths left. Ivan expected him to answer slowly and conserve every last one.
Ivan's eyes burned a vivid blue beneath the shadows of the unlit corridor.
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Footnotes:
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