WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 63: 11. St. Yansk University and the Chamber of Secrets (6)
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“I heard you were a friend of my father’s. My father... prefers deep friendships where people can speak openly, rather than broad social connections, so I never thought there would be someone I had yet to meet.”
Elphihara was no easy opponent, as expected. At such a young age, she had already mastered elven speech.
That was an elven probing shot.
-Are you really my dad’s friend? You seem like an impostor. My dad doesn’t have many friends. I’ve never seen a ‘human’ like you.
The “pure-blooded elf” had taken a shot at both her father and Ivan in a single impeccably polite sentence, yet she covered her mouth with a gentle, bashful smile.
“We served on the same battlefield.”
“Wow! So you were Father’s comrade-in-arms. That’s amazing. If you stood on the same front line as my father back then, you must have been an extraordinary person!”
Elphihara smiled sociably as her eyes flicked over Ivan’s worn work clothes and neck scarf.
I find it hard to believe you, but since the eldest son of the Eastvelpen Barony, a member of the Privy Council, arranged this meeting, I’ll at least hear you out.
Really, it could not be helped.
If you met an unfamiliar old man whose opening line was, “I’m friends with your dad,” it was only natural to doubt everything that followed unless it was, “Here, use this as pocket money.”
And Ivan was a human. Convincing a sensible elf that their father had a human friend was an extraordinarily difficult task.
So Ivan decided not to bother persuading her. It was pointless and a waste of time.
“I need someone who can interpret classical spells and cast protective spells. As you heard, this is a matter of state secrecy, so discretion is also required.”
“How could I dare refuse a friend of my father’s? Still, regrettably, I am only a student. Wouldn’t it be better to employ the mages of your country for such an important national mission?”
It was exactly the answer Ivan expected. He still had a card to play.
“Do you know Beolgreen’s hobby?”
“My father’s... hobby?”
The most representative way to show off one’s connection. He had used the classic, Do you even know what my dad likes?
“Lost ancient magic, especially things dating close to the mythological age. Am I wrong?”
“Uh, um... that is true, but...”
Really, that was practically every mage’s hobby. The more highly placed and educated someone was, the more likely they were to become addicted to collecting antiques. Once they did, they became so obsessed they would sell the foundations of their own house for another relic.
Most ancient magic had no practical use. Scholarship naturally progressed with the times. Only games treated anything with the word “ancient” in front of it as automatically powerful.
But ancient relics beneath an academy were another matter. Ever since Hogwarts, it had been an established rule that ancient artifacts buried beneath an academy were powerful.
“A ruin was recently excavated in secret beneath this university. They say magic estimated to be at least fifteen hundred years old lies inside. Ah, feel free to tell anyone. Officially, the Krasilov monarchy will dismiss it as an unfounded rumor.”
“...If it’s such an important mission, that makes it even more suspicious. Why me of all people?”
“The capable cannot be trusted, and the trustworthy lack ability.”
“Which one do you think I am, my lord?”
“You are trustworthy and capable.”
Ivan looked Elphihara in the eye.
“Even if you talk, you are only one student. It is not strange for someone your age to become immersed in conspiracy theories, and even if some fool believes you, they cannot demand that this country conduct an investigation. It will never become public debate. That is why I trust you, and why I am not seeking out another ‘professional’ mage.”
“My father would believe me.”
“But Beolgreen is not enough of an idiot to pressure a nation merely to collect relics. Isn’t that right?”
“Urgh...”
Ivan continued as Elphihara bit her lip.
“And I trust Beolgreen. I respect his abilities. If you are even half as exceptional as your father, there is no reason to doubt your skill.”
“For the record, he has already checked Miss Grikenkos’s grades.”
“If you take this job, you will be able to give your father a ‘relic from the ancient era beneath Pritchenkaya.’ Will you do it?”
“...It seems I have no choice.”
Elphihara smiled gently and held out her hand.
Ivan flinched on instinct, then relaxed when he noticed that she was offering a handshake.
“I look forward to working with you. What is your name, my lord?”
“Call me Ivan.”
“I know Krasilov culture fairly well too, you know. You realize that is an incredibly lazy alias, right?”
“I do.”
“...Humans.”
Watching the two shake hands, Oswald had to revise his assessment of Ivan somewhat.
Why was he so good with words...?
Why was he never like this normally...?
Unfortunately, this transmigrator had yet to fully adapt to this premodern world, so he did not know there were things with even greater persuasive power than words.
Ivan was a reasonable man, though, and he knew persuasion was more effective the faster it was.
The fastest persuasion in the world came from choosing between one’s life and a nod.
* * *
Even in premodern times, large buildings required ground preparation before construction. In other words, they knew how to carry out civil engineering work beginning with underground foundations.
This was also a world with sewers. Most of the sewer system spread throughout the city was older than the city itself, but even so, any new building had to begin with underground structures.
And there was one more thing.
Saint Yansk University had been founded less than twenty years ago.
It was a newly established university built during the war. A building in the middle of the city that had neither reason, purpose, nor space to contain something like a Chamber of Secrets.
For such a building to have a secret ancient ruin beneath it, and for no one to notice, it first needed physical depth.
Deeper than the sewer facilities beneath the university.
Deep enough to reach the lowest level of the Pritchenkaya Underground Waterways, said to be older than the city itself.
“Ugh, urgh...”
Ivan ignored Elphihara, who covered her nose beside him and dry-heaved as he walked on.
The Pritchenkaya Underground Waterways were certainly not pleasant. They were damp, dark, narrow, and filled with the sluggish flow of rotting sewage.
Rats, cockroaches, and other vermin crawled everywhere. It was not a place for a young elf to stroll through without concern.
“How much... urgh... farther do we have to go...?”
“We’re almost there.”
“That’s... urgh, urgh! The tenth time you’ve said that!”
“Hmm.”
Ivan walked on, scanning the surroundings.
His eyes read the countless marks left on the sewer walls.
An unmaintained artificial structure would inevitably collapse before the passage of time. The Pritchenkaya Underground Waterways were no different. In unmaintained sections, there was always a danger of cave-ins.
Signs of age. You could tell from the cracks in the bricks and the extent of their wear.
He ignored broken bricks rounded smooth by standing water and time, reading only the marks that remained sharp enough for stone dust to fall from their edges.
They were traces warped by the influence of a dwarven excavation relic.
Ivan followed the increasingly dense, web-like trails for some time.
“Wo... wow...”
Elphihara stood blankly, forgetting even to cover her mouth.
-Shhhhhhh...
A massive cavern spread out before them, where accumulated rainwater poured down like a waterfall.
Tiny mushrooms glowed blue, while shimmering clusters of light that had drifted in from somewhere else floated along the edge of the cavern, shining brilliantly.
Water that had spilled from the broken pipes of the underground waterways flowed like a waterfall toward the unfathomable depths at the center of the enormous cavern.
“Is this... the ancient ruin?”
“No. It is the entrance.”
Ivan stepped forward and read the traces. They were less than a week old, yet the violent flow of water had already eroded them.
‘The collapse is close. It would have been dangerous if we had delayed.’
At most, a week. The ground would give way before then. Ivan sharply surveyed the area.
“This is only the entrance? What, is some ancient demon sealed in there? Why is it so enormous...?”
“It was the dwarves’ work.”
“The dwarves?”
“This cliff has nothing to do with the underground ruin. It is simply where a dwarven relic once stood.”
Ivan straightened up, cracked his neck, and drew his axe.
“A dwarven relic? Once stood? What does that even mean? No, explain it properly.”
“The earthquake in Pritchenkaya a week ago was the dwarves’ doing. They brought an excavation relic and dug into the underground.”
“What?!”
“That cliff. The precipice that looks like a cliff is where the relic stood.”
Just as the elves had air warships, the dwarves had excavation relics.
Why did those skillful little craftsmen not even dare attempt to reconstruct such relics?
Because they were enormous enough to require too many resources to rebuild, and because the design techniques for their complex, intricate parts had been lost.
Just as Kallion air warships were called “fortresses in the sky,” dwarven excavation relics were called subterranean siege towers.
An excavation relic had only one function, to carve away the ground. It existed solely to transport dwarves through the deep underground.
There was another reason such things were called relics, and became strategic targets that had to be destroyed without exception.
‘They are too large.’
Great mass became a weapon in itself. Ground excavated by an excavation relic would inevitably collapse, and the relic was so massive that operating it could cause earthquakes.
There had been magic here strong enough to erase an object, no, a structure, that large in an instant.
“Can you interpret anything?”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, can you see any mana, or traces of magic being used?”
“No. There is only water... The mana concentration is high, but it does not seem beyond the level of a natural phenomenon...”
“Then we will use the second-best option.”
He had not expected much in the first place. What he expected from Elphihara was not finding the entrance to the relic.
If that had been possible, Elizaveta’s analysis team would have detected it when they were sent in advance. It was only natural.
So Ivan would do what needed doing. He slowly settled into position and drew a deep breath.
“E-excuse me. What... what are you doing?”
“Prepare a protective spell.”
“...I’m getting really worried now. Why?”
“Because you will need it.”
Mana seeped into his bloodstream. With a tingling sensation, time began to divide into slow fragments.
The drifting lights curved sluggishly, and every speck of dust in the air became distinct enough to follow with his eyes.
Mana accelerated his neural network, making his head burn hot. It was a flood of sensory information.
A tide of sensation surged from sharpened touch, keen vision, tense smell, and delicately opened hearing.
Enhanced senses forced the brain beyond its capacity. Human sensory organs were not designed to absorb this much information.
So he shut down his hearing.
-Crack!!
Like how hearing sharpened when he closed his eyes.
Human sensory organs were not built to operate independently. Whenever one sense was restricted, the total capacity of the others improved enormously.
The instant he lost his hearing, mana surged through his nervous system with a brief ringing. He carefully adjusted it, then once more.
-Crunch!!
After hearing came smell.
In exchange for sacrificing two useless sensory systems, his reaction nerves forcibly broke through limits he had never dared approach.
Within that gap, where time lurched and tilted.
-Shring...
Feeling the axe blade slide free with chilling clarity, he quietly tightened his stance.
As he stared forward, red flooded his vision. Blood vessels in his eyes had burst.
There was no need to care. Their function remained intact.
So he checked. The direction the dwarven excavation relic had moved in.
Those traces. One by one.
‘Fifteen degrees to the right of center. Twenty-two degrees downward.’
He precisely pinpointed the direction in which the dwarven excavation relic had operated by reverse-engineering the marks it left behind.
At the same time, he spun the axe blade behind him.
-Crunch, crunch, crunch!!!
His legs planted on the ground, his twisted waist, the bundle of muscle fibers leading from his external obliques, the tensed triceps running through his deltoids.
The activation of mana-infused nerves, the moment tension in every tendon reached its peak.
He pictured the most perfect strike that could be delivered in a single breath.
‘Maximilian’s.’
The stance the radiant blond young man had taken back then, when he lifted his head and looked at the night sky.
Recalling the most powerful strike he remembered.
‘Morning Star Slash.’
-Hoooo...
A low breath escaped.
-Piiing...!
A flash cut through the air.
-Kwaaaaaaaaaaang!!!
The impact returned a moment later.
* * *
“What is this... supposed to mean?”
Elizaveta had to read the short, concise report three times.
It was written in the Krasilov common tongue, in neat formal handwriting that perfectly followed reporting protocol, yet it was incredibly difficult to understand.
She slowly set the report down and picked up her teacup.
-Magical reactions at the ruin site have been confirmed solely from the dwarven excavation relic.
-Therefore, cross-verification under identical conditions is required to establish the ruin’s existence and location.
-As the dwarven excavation relic has been destroyed, it cannot be reused to prove this.
-Therefore, at the field agent’s discretion, an impact equivalent to the excavation relic’s estimated force will be applied to the area in order to replicate the conditions as closely as possible.
-Attachment) The mage analyzing the ancient ruin’s magic must be capable of casting a high-level protective spell.
“What is he trying to do...?”
Giving up on understanding it, Elizaveta clutched her forehead and let out a sigh.
When he came back, she would definitely, truly, absolutely make sure to teach that bastard about “following the advance reporting protocol” and “leaving on-site judgment to Elizaveta.”
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Footnotes:
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