WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 6: Terrorism Always Occurs on the Academy Entrance Train (4)
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* * *
Captain Hugo had been staring at the signal transmitter, which had been flashing brightly for some time now.
“Is this thing broken?”
It was an expensive mana signal transmitter he had paid dearly to have made, meant to ensure their escape if something went wrong at Igorvich Station.
Now it was flashing at regular intervals, about once every minute.
The emergency signal was supposed to be pressed three times in a row. That way, accidentally pressing it would not send a signal.
Yet it only flashed once each time, without fail. It must have been broken.
“Damn it, this thing was expensive!”
“Hehe, Captain. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be able to make that money back anyway.”
“What about the others?”
“They’re all in position, and they’ve finished planting the explosives. Once the train arrives, we blow it up, rush in, empty the cargo cars, and get out! It’ll take fifteen minutes at most!”
“Good. Oh, the train’s coming. Everyone, get ready!”
“Yeah!”
Far in the distance, a train came barreling forward, belching steam. It was thirty minutes from Igorvich Station, a little over an hour on foot.
Even if the train derailed, they would have a comfortable two hours before reinforcements could arrive.
“Blow it up!!”
Hugo turned his head and shouted.
-Boom!
The explosives buried beneath the tracks detonated at once, making the ground tremble.
With a deafening screech, the train slammed on its brakes, then slowly began to tip over beside the tracks.
“Go! Take everything!!”
“Waaaaah! We’re going to be rich!!”
He had heard the cargo cars were packed full of gold bars. Melt them down, erase the royal seal, and sell them on the black market. How much would that be worth?
Hugo chuckled as he watched the broken transmitter flash one last time, then stuffed it into his pocket.
He was already planning to give the mage bastard who sold it to him a piece of his mind.
* * *
-Booooom!!
-Screeeeech, craaaack!!
The derailed train twisted as it fell over.
Ivan stood atop a tree, watching from afar before turning his gaze elsewhere.
One man who looked like the commander, another who looked like his second-in-command.
About three more around them.
‘About ten headed for the train.’
They had said there were around fifteen people, so the numbers added up.
Ivan leaped down from the tree and immediately drew his pistol.
-Bang!
“!!!”
“!!?”
As voices rose in confusion from the distance, the bandits all threw themselves to the ground or ducked behind tree trunks.
None of the five, including the one shot in the head with the first bullet, possessed Line-of-Fire Detection.
Projectile weapons did not work against experts who had reached a certain level.
That was why the Hero Party had no such thing as an archer. The moment a firearm was discharged, an expert could sense the killing intent attached to the bullet.
Coating a weapon held in one’s hand with mana to eliminate that killing intent was the most basic of basics. But once a bullet or arrow left the hand, such control was impossible.
Experts therefore never took cover. Instead, they would launch themselves toward the direction of the gunshot and eliminate their opponent. Being startled by gunfire was a privilege reserved for the weak.
That was why the Annihilation Unit carried pistols. They could gauge an opponent’s strength, and few weapons were better for eliminating weak enemies in minor skirmishes.
“Who the hell are you?!”
The man screaming at the top of his lungs was the commander. Ivan needed to keep him alive. He was worth extracting information from.
There was no reason to spare the rest.
Ivan stepped out from behind the tree trunk and walked toward them.
“Shoot! Shoot!!”
-Ratatat!!
Lines of fire tangled chaotically. Ivan walked through them at an easy pace as he calmly loaded a bullet.
Click. The moment he confirmed the bullet had seated in the chamber, he fired.
-Bang!
“Ghhhk?!!”
One.
Click. Another bullet sprang up from the magazine and seated itself.
-Bang!
One.
Click, bang. Click, bang!
Every shot erased one line of fire.
Trained agents never exposed themselves to shoot, even if they had not mastered Line-of-Fire Detection.
But these men seemed to have received no such training. The moment they realized Ivan was alone, they jumped out and began spraying bullets everywhere.
This was the result. The difference in training, experience, and talent.
Four corpses with bullets lodged between their brows, and one large man trembling in place.
“Y-You...!!”
The man’s face twisted as he threw away his gun and drew a sword.
Not a bad choice. If bullets could not hit him, the gun was useless.
“Who, who sent you?! Huh?! Where did some bastard like you...!”
-Bang!
-Clang!
The instant he drew his sword, Ivan shot the flat of the blade. The impact made the man lose his grip on the hilt, clutch his wrist, and stagger backward.
Having felt the overwhelming gap in their abilities, his face turned pale and he began to shake.
“Are you good at remembering faces?”
“Huh...? Y-Yeah! I’ll remember you clearly! Just wait! I’ll...”
“That’s fortunate. You’ll need to remember very carefully from now on.”
Ivan did not expect this man to reveal who had ordered the train terrorist attack.
No organization capable of this would leave such an obvious trail.
So he would start with appearances. Even something trivial could become a clue.
Their gait, their manner, the clothes they had worn at the time.
Any distinctive tattoos or accessories, if there had been any.
Their speech and accents as well.
“Answer if anything comes to mind.”
Ivan spoke quietly as he drew his axe.
He had no intention of killing the man. He was probably the tutorial boss, and that was for the protagonist to handle.
Hurting him would be fine, though. Ivan knew countless ways to hurt a person without damaging their bodily functions.
9:35 a.m.
Ten minutes after the train terrorist attack began.
Successfully stopped the mastermind behind the train terrorist attack!
* * *
“Oww...!!”
Aesidis clutched her forehead and groaned. She could not get her bearings.
Her father’s retainers had rented out the entire first-class carriage, so there was no one to ask what had happened.
She shook her head wildly and staggered to her feet.
“Eek?”
She was standing on the window. The seat where she had been dozing moments ago lay stretched out beside her.
This was a train. Train seats could not lie sideways. Only then did she barely realize that the train had overturned.
“Ugh, that hurts... Hello? Is anyone there?”
Groaning, she looked around. She could hear people running and loud voices, but not the screams of people terrified by a train accident.
Then this was... this was...
“Magic bandits!!”
Aesidis covered her mouth in shock. She had heard that magic bandits sometimes raided trains, but it was not that common, was it? What could they possibly gain from a train like this...?!
“No, wait! I’m here!!”
Aesidis flinched and curled into herself.
Under most circumstances, that would have been nothing but self-indulgence. Surprisingly, in this incident, Aesidis was right.
“What do I do, what do I do...?!”
She had shouted that no one should follow her, that she would truly cut ties with anyone who did, so she had no attendants with her.
Her mind went blank as Aesidis hurriedly hugged her instrument case close.
Fortunately, her violin was unharmed despite the train overturning.
“What a relief! Sniff, I was so worried you might be broken...”
With gentle hands, she opened the case and carefully stroked the violin.
Then she gripped its neck tightly and held it upside down.
Like an iron pipe. No, like an axe.
They said an instrument was a musician’s life.
Which meant Aesidis had resolved to fight while wielding her own life.
The strongest music student in history, ready to risk her life, now charges in to deal with the train terrorist attack!
* * *
Before the Droan Kingdom was united under Great King Einar.
And before the Demon King rose to threaten all of humanity.
Before all that, the Droan Kingdom had endured an age of warring states, where tribal chieftains known as Jarls ran rampant.
That mad slaughtering band, which made mountains of corpses and seas of blood with axes, swords, and their tongues, mostly for kindly asking after each other’s parents, had a peculiar rank.
The Jarl’s retainers. Huscarls.
The Huscarl rank was often considered equivalent to the knightly rank of other nations, but it differed in detail.
Unlike knights, who established a mutual contractual relationship with their lord, Huscarls cared only for loyalty and ability.
Knights received wages and land as compensation, but what Huscarls received was only loyalty. Apart from small spoils and meal expenses, they neither received nor desired rewards.
Even without blood ties, they accepted one another as brothers, ate the same food in the same house, and used the same beds. (This did not mean they slept together.)
Great King Einar had many such younger brothers.
“Huff... Huff...!!”
A middle-aged man panted at the edge of the forest.
He stared in horror at the overturned train far away, visible to the naked eye.
“What rotten bastards dared to hurt my nieceeeeee!!”
His beloved niece was on that train right now!!
The man let out a furious roar and began running again.
* * *
‘If I catch you following me, I’ll really cut ties with you!’
When Aesidis told Einar that, Einar, as befit a great warrior of Droan, understood the answer to this riddle.
‘Aha, so I just need to stay out of sight!’
Every trustworthy man treasured Aesidis as their niece, so no matter how well they disguised themselves, they could not avoid being noticed on the same train.
But sending them on the next train was out of the question. He was already worried enough about her crossing the border alone by train.
So Great King Einar, as befit a great warrior of Droan, solved the riddle brilliantly.
‘Aha, so they only need to keep up with the train!’
Thus, Great King Einar gathered his younger brothers and asked solemnly.
“Who wants to protect our Esi? Raise your hand.”
““Big brotheeeer!!! Please send me!!!””
“Who here is a true warrior capable of chasing a train on two legs? Raise your hand.”
““I’m right here, big brother!!!””
Droan’s great Huscarls all raised their hands and roared.
Muscle-packed men in their forties cried out with their mouths open like baby birds begging for food.
Great King Einar watched the strange sight with satisfaction, then asked solemnly.
“Then only those who can get into Saint Yansk University, raise your hands.”
“...!!”
Saint Yansk University’s entrance exam was difficult. The Huscarls who thought they could handle the practical test or interview but not the written exam lowered their hands one after another. (They were not ashamed. Knowledge was not among a warrior’s virtues.)
One man did not lower his hand.
“From now on, you are a first-year student in the physical education department.”
“Yes, big brother!! I’ll protect Esi with my life!!”
“Good. Go, brother.”
“Yes, big brother!!!”
That had happened two months ago. In November, when Saint Yansk University held its entrance exam, the man secretly infiltrated Krasilov. Astonishingly, he passed the written exam fair and square and was accepted into the physical education department. (He barely scraped past the minimum score and set a new record in the practical evaluation.)
Sadly, Saint Yansk University had no age limit for admission...
And now, on a day in January, a man who had chased the train for two days without resting or sleeping stopped, panting.
Having spotted the overturned train from two kilometers away, he began charging forward, crushing every tree in his path.
The strongest physical education student in history now charges into the scene of the train terrorist attack to save the strongest music student in history!
* * *
Footnotes:
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