WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 67: 11. St. Yansk University and the Chamber of Secrets (10)
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* * *
-Smack!
Cheeks were mysterious things. They could bring someone to their senses or knock the sense out of them. Their usual purpose was the latter.
As a highly trained agent, Ivan succeeded in bringing Elphihara precisely back to her senses.
“Eek... Wh-why...?”
“Get a hold of yourself.”
“My senses...? What are you talking about? I never lost them. I was thinking about how to split all that with you, and this rude human...! No, ‘rude’ and ‘human’ are practically the same word.”
Even as Elphihara spouted nonsense, she kept glancing toward the pile of beard combs.
“What does that look like to you?”
“What? It’s a treasure room, obviously! Since I’m a generous elf, I’ll split it evenly with you. Ah, but not the Loraine. I absolutely need that. You can’t eat it as it is, so I’ll brew it for you. It’s a very delicate ingredient...”
“It looks like combs to me.”
Ivan said it casually as Elphihara began muttering in Elven again.
“What? Combs? What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“Combs. The kind used to comb hair.”
Ivan took Elphihara by the arm and slowly backed away.
“It’s a trap.”
“A trap... Uh... Really? You’re saying it looks like combs? But what kind of trap could that possibly...”
“A trap that shows you what you desire most at the moment you observe it. Probably the same kind as the dream you had when you first arrived at this temple.”
“How does that make any sense...? What kind of life does a human have to live for combs to be what they want most...? When there’s an elf beside them, and not even an aphrodisiac?”
What a dreadful trap. It had destroyed an elf’s mind like this.
Ivan was not surprised. It was common knowledge that elves had a congenital lack of decency, which naturally meant they were a race with weak minds. People with healthy minds did not regard other races as inferior.
Ivan coldly studied the hill of still-glittering combs.
If it was a trap, there had to be a purpose behind it.
He narrowed his eyes and swept his gaze from one end of the room to the other. Temptation always had an objective.
There could be no trap without intent.
A mountain of treasure lured in its victims, like the lantern hanging from an anglerfish’s head. Which meant it was time to find the anglerfish’s teeth.
‘The scent I noticed the moment the door opened.’
Then this was a trap that disrupted two senses, sight and smell.
It dismantled a victim’s unconscious wariness with a pleasant fragrance, then drew them toward a pile of treasures they desired.
“Elphihara.”
“Yes?”
“Can you still not sense any mana?”
“Y-yes. If there were any, I would have realized it was a trap right away, but there’s no sign of it at all.”
“Hmm.”
If it was not a mana-based mechanism, then he would assume it was a physical trap.
Ivan closed his eyes, shut off his sense of smell, and slowly listened.
-Tsk, tsk, tsk....
Sounds lingered and scattered beyond his closed eyes. Each sound struck terrain and objects, returning at different angles as the shape of the room slowly became clear.
It was a basic application of echolocation.
Inside this vast room was a “pile of something” and “something sticking up.”
It was an unmoving still life. That meant there was little chance it would suddenly attack with hostile intent.
“In the center of the treasure pile you see, is there something sticking up?”
“Sticking up?”
“The shape does not matter. Just think of whatever comes to mind. When you first saw it, was there something you wanted to pick up first?”
“Ah, yes. If I had to say... something is sticking up. Since it’s grass.”
“I see.”
Ivan opened his eyes. In the middle of the beard comb pile, where echolocation had detected something sticking up, one comb far better made than the rest had been embedded at an angle.
If this was a trap designed to make someone pull it out...
Careful to rely on his sense of touch, Ivan stepped forward. Beneath his boots, the combs crunched and broke.
He walked over and grasped that comb.
It was made so well that he suddenly wanted to pull it out and take it with him. It suited his taste exactly, with no unnecessary decoration and a plain shape, yet possessing a functional beauty.
It was forged from steel, giving it a solid sense of reliability. It even had a small spring mechanism designed so it could be used as a dagger in an emergency.
He might commission one someday, so Ivan memorized its shape and squeezed his eyes shut.
-Hiss....
Then he sent mana through his nerves, so delicately that he could vaguely sense the flow of air against his skin and even the vortices made by his breath.
Thump. Thump.
He could hear his heart beating. Drawing every scrap of concentration he had, he focused all his nerves on touch.
He reached out again toward that wonderful comb embedded in the pile. Slowly, with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel.
A cold sensation. The heavy weight unique to metal. A grip about thirteen centimeters long.
He inferred the rest of its shape from the recoil when he applied a little strength with his fingertips and gently shook it.
Only after gripping it tightly could he finally determine its full form.
“A sword.”
“What?”
“A long, vertical piece of metal embedded somewhere, made to make you want to pull it out. The center of this trap and its activation condition. It’s a sword.”
Ivan slowly opened his eyes.
He was standing atop countless skeletons.
Both hands gripped the sword embedded in the chest of a black statue.
He was not surprised. When he heightened his senses, he had already suspected it from the feel of the combs breaking beneath his feet.
That crunchy sensation had felt less like small combs and more like skeletons.
“An illusion that dissolves the moment it is recognized. It is not a physical trap.”
“What? But there’s no mana at all...”
“Even without mana, there is one other condition that can make an illusion corporeal.”
Elphihara still seemed unable to see the true form of the trap. She could not have reacted like that otherwise.
Ivan gripped the hilt and stared directly at the statue.
“Divine power. This trap was woven from divine power.”
Before him stood a black marble statue in the posture of someone kneeling in prayer.
A long steel sword was embedded diagonally in its chest. If pulling it out activated the trap, then this statue was likely the seal itself.
Ivan held the hilt and stared at the statue.
The statue’s black pupils rolled toward Ivan.
[Correct.]
* * *
Mana existed everywhere. Some places held it more densely and others more faintly, but it permeated the entire world. If anything, it was close to the origin of all things.
Every object held a certain amount of mana, naturally absorbing the mana scattered throughout the atmosphere.
Divine power was different. Divine power belonged only to the God of Light, the Lord.
It was a fragment of God that descended upon a priest’s body when they prayed to the Lord. It was an unprecedented power that neither warriors nor mages dared possess, with no way or reason to analyze its source.
Therefore, one could not say something like, “Tch, the Demon God’s divine power...!” There was no comparison to make in the first place. Still, there was such a thing as reasonable inference, reaching an answer by observing a phenomenon and eliminating impossible conditions.
‘Alexander was right.
To think a sealed god truly existed. Beneath the academy, no less.
Was this the second stage? One meant for the Hero Party’s children?
No, the difficulty is far too high for that. The first stage had been difficult as well, but this is on an entirely different level.
It was probably some hidden event that would appear later. By a strange coincidence, I must have uncovered the truth behind it.’
Ivan glared at the statue while gripping the hilt. An unprecedented power had seized his body as if it would not permit him to look away or let go of the sword.
[How great has your suffering been, child, to be born with the ability to seek true wisdom in a world where only those who learn one thing from one phenomenon, and sophists who proclaim that one thing as truth, remain? I know your concerns.]
The statue’s eyes watched Ivan, twisting into a crooked shape.
It was a strange smile, like a forced imitation of a human one.
Ivan looked at the statue without expression and slowly tightened his grip. He still did not move.
‘The Church could not have set this trap.’
Ivan had always needed to doubt and reason from even the smallest clue. His whole life had forced that way of thinking upon him. On the battlefield, nothing killed soldiers as easily as certainty.
So the moment he saw this trap, Ivan could reason it out. If something had been sealed in this place, there was no reason to set a trap that subtly manipulated people into releasing the seal.
The conclusion was simple. Two thousand years ago, this seal had not contained such a trap.
Every kind of structure had an unavoidable lifespan. Ruins that were not constantly maintained would inevitably decay. If this seal had also become loose in a sense...
If whatever had been sealed inside exerted its influence during that time and planted some kind of trap in these ruins...
If it had guided someone into completely undoing its seal. And if the trap did not use mana...
Once all those conditions were considered, anyone from Earth could understand the whole story. Every Earthling knew this sort of cliché. This was common sense.
On twenty-first-century Earth, this situation was called “an underground dungeon sealing an ancient evil god.” It usually appeared in hack-and-slash action RPGs.
[Your thoughts are correct.]
The statue continued with an eerie smile.
[Yes. Your reasoning is accurate, and the thought you will have next is also correct. I was once praised by you as a god, condemned as a demon, and will be praised again as your savior. I have many names, but you may call me Salvation. I know the desire you carry. Desire it as you should, and it shall be granted.]
Ivan stared at the statue with dry eyes.
The statue spoke in a voice tinged with laughter.
[Pull it free. Then you shall receive it. Like all you wanderers, do you not roam in longing for the distant stars? I speak, and you shall receive what you have prayed for all your life. Raise your hand and pull it free.]
Clatter. The steel sword in Ivan’s grasp twitched.
Ah, so it was temptation.
The temptation of being sent back to Earth. And the price was only pulling out this sword.
How simple. How appealing.
Ivan remained still, without loosening his grip.
[Do you resist? Is it attachment, pity, longing, or... fear?]
“No.”
Forcibly suppressing the arm that tried to rise on its own, Ivan opened his mouth.
“What you say is a lie.”
[Do you have faith? Like those sophists?]
“No.”
Ivan slowly closed his eyes.
Crack. He tore away his hearing.
Rip. He pulled out his sense of smell.
“If you had truly read my thoughts and knew about my home, this trap would have shown better things than combs. Then it would have been dangerous.”
If objects from Earth had been piled up like hills, Ivan would never have resisted.
The fact that it could not use that easy method, that it could not show him what he truly longed for, defined the limits of this being.
It could not imagine Earth or manifest objects from Earth.
Which meant it also lacked the ability to send him back to Earth.
[Most who face me begin with doubt, pass through certainty, and are left with only praise. You shall be no different.]
“You were sealed by human hands.”
Ignoring the statue’s nonsense, Ivan spoke indifferently.
[What...?]
“If the remains here are traces of people from long ago.”
The mound of remains Ivan had finally seen after breaking the illusion had human skeletons. The shape of their limbs, the structure of their bones, even the length of each part, all were entirely human.
Therefore, he inferred that this thing had been sealed by human hands.
He knew beings who had been worshipped as gods while they were alive. He had even met some of them in person.
The Seven Dragon Generals and the Demon King.
The rulers of each race, great monarchs who ruled through the strength of a single individual alone.
And the Demon King, who had ruled those seven monarchs and was eventually praised as the sovereign of the seven races.
They were all gods of their own kind. Untouchable beings.
Tens of thousands of soldiers had fallen before the Seven Dragon Generals. Half of the more than twenty kingdoms had vanished into history, and so many humans had died that they could not be counted.
It was a terrible era, one no one could resist. An era when people took up weapons not for victory, but for survival.
When everyone whispered of despair, the Hero appeared.
* * *
Ivan understood the unprecedented power suppressing his grip.
This was “happiness.” Instinctive happiness that made him unable to even imagine anything except drawing the sword and undoing the seal. Supreme happiness, like hell whispering with the melody of heaven.
Yet Ivan’s hands still did not move.
Slowly, one finger after another broke free. His fingers, which had held the hilt tight as though glued in place, moved with difficulty but certainty.
Because he remembered the Hero.
* * *
The Hero had not taken up his sword for his own happiness.
When the Hero first cut down one of the Seven Dragon Generals, he had not brought back only a severed head. He had brought hope.
He swung his sword for hope. Like looking at the morning star through thick clouds on a dark night.
If Ivan dared guess at the hope the Hero wished for, it had likely been peace for everyone.
Ivan was a selfish person. He could not carry hope like the Hero’s. His hope was only his own.
The desire to return to Earth.
At the same time, that meant this. There was no happiness in this world, this uncivilized premodern fantasy world.
[What...? What are you...? How can a human think like that...?!]
At last, his left hand was free.
He raised it, ignoring the cries of muscles and nerves screaming that they wanted to rest, that they had had enough.
Ignoring the complaints of exhaustion and whispers about how sweet even a brief rest would be.
[Stop, stop...! Listen to me!!]
“No.”
His right hand was free.
There was no happiness in this land. There was only duty.
He would simply do what needed to be done. Any joy he could personally take for himself had already died over the past thirty years.
His hands slowly rose and gripped the statue’s head.
[Stop, stop!! You cannot kill me! I am your god!]
“I have met people who believed themselves to be gods.”
Veins writhed beneath Ivan’s grip like snakes.
“They died.”
* * *
He knew beings who had been worshipped as gods while they were alive. He had even met some of them in person.
The Demon King and the Seven Dragon Generals.
And one of them had died beneath his hands.
Therefore, this was not the first time he had killed someone who had no doubt that they were a god.
Ivan was an efficient person, so he had no trouble doing something twice.
* * *
Crack.
The marble statue’s head shattered beneath his grip.
Footnotes:
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