WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 70: Side Episode: Each Person's View of Their Goal
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* * *
There was a famous Chinese paradox.
Those qualified to gain all under heaven did not desire it,
while those who desired all under heaven were not qualified to gain it.
Sadly, in this uncivilized age, no records remained from when China had still been China. Yet as was the nature of maxims, this one held true regardless of era or place.
Such was the case with these three students, who knew nothing of Yao and Shun, China, or Earth.
By chance, all three had resolved upon the same goal. Then, sadly, they realized they lacked the ability to carry it out and fell into despair.
From their respective positions, they contemplated their own abilities and devised strategic objectives.
Side Episode: Each Person's View of Their Goal
“I'll do whatever it takes to deal with Uncle's beard...!”
Aesidis, a Droan to her bones who always chose a direct charge when solving problems, had made this vow.
Sadly, she possessed the will to shave, but not the ability to make anyone shave. Her attempts were thwarted every time.
But the Droan dictionary had no word for surrender. This was true.
She clenched her fist, ready to throw her whole life, perhaps even more than that, into the task. Kkangkkang IV let out a bizarre scream.
“I'll save you, Uncle!”
With the heart of a storybook Hero saving a princess from an evil monster made of body hair!
The greatest music department student in history, who had fully inherited the talent of Einar, the Hero Party's vanguard and Slayer, set down her instrument and picked up a dagger.
Along with shaving cream.
* * *
Even in this uncivilized age, there were places that shone with the fragrance of civilization. Tilles, a cultural powerhouse, was particularly so. And the essence of culture lay in politics.
“I think your beard is really cool, mister!”
“...?”
Isabelle, who had lived as the Hero's hostage at the Tilles court, was employing astonishingly mature political skills.
She had taken a position completely unlike that of her sole and greatest rival, then chosen to slowly win Ivan's heart.
Sadly, it had not produced much effect yet, but she was at least a little ahead of Aesidis in this matter.
A Hero in the Hero Party ought to view situations from a broader perspective than a Berserker, so the future of this Hero Party was certainly bright.
* * *
“I am... a mage, aren't I...?”
The elf from the Kallion Archipelago had a different thought.
Mages were those who gave physical form to illusions.
If there was something one did not wish to see, and it could not be physically removed... it could be removed from one's concepts and perception instead!
This realization was a valuable experience gained from the Trap of Happiness in the ruins beneath Krasilov's waterways.
Elphihara was a master of every kind of magic accessible at a student's level, so she created the most suitable spell in an instant.
“All body hair below my nose... I shall ‘hide’ from my eyes...!”
She formed hand seals in the air, instantly wove a spell, and stared straight ahead.
The target was herself, while the test subject was that stupid human walking far away...!
By casting Mind Sorcery on her own head and twisting her perception, she would place an illusion on herself so that beards and other body hair could not be perceived by her eyes!
“I've... completed it...!!”
She had never once been delighted by the success of a spell.
Because of her overwhelming talent and affinity for mana, using magic had been as natural to her as breathing every moment since birth.
But now, she trembled at her own genius.
Creak.
Clenching the hand that had formed the final seal, she muttered in an eerie voice.
“Grikenkos Style, Illusory Shaving...!!”
With the spell's completion, brilliant blue light shimmered in both her eyes. The casting time was under two seconds, mana consumption was under three percent, and the spell would last an hour and a half...!!
“By my calculations, I can use it continuously for 50.3 hours, two days and two hours fifteen minutes...!”
If she used it until her mana was completely exhausted, she could remove every beard from her sight for two whole days.
Now the key was...
“It must continue even when my concentration is broken by an external shock...”
In other words, she needed to cast the spell in the realm of the unconscious. The spell she had just created could not possibly do that.
Elphihara quietly closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
Hoo.
With a firm exhale, her eyes opened resolutely. Her will blazed within them!
“Until this spell does not break under any circumstances.”
Until her concentration on the spell could not be shattered even in incredibly harsh and embarrassing situations.
Prepared not to stop...
* * *
Ivan, whose wholly harmless appearance was ordinary enough to be seen anywhere and incapable of intimidating anyone at first glance, like that of a herbivore, was enjoying his leisure time.
“Peaceful.”
Birds chirped beautifully beyond the window, while the summer sun brightly lit the world. Listening to the orphanage children gathering in small groups and laughing, Ivan sipped his tea.
He paused and focused every bit of his attention on his hearing. Some of the children had recently learned how to sneak around with absurd secrecy, so he had no choice.
Good. No one was here.
It was difficult to understand why the children wanted to visit the director's office. His memories were faint now, but he did not think he had ever visited the principal's office during elementary school. He had never even considered it.
The tea he drank was barley tea brewed from cheap roasted barley, and it was available without limit to every child.
There were also more snacks, such as candy and chocolate, in the faculty room than in the director's office. If they were going to sneak in somewhere, that place would be easier and faster.
“Hmm.”
Then again, how could he understand the thoughts of children? Children were easily swept up in bizarre trends. Ivan gave a small nod and relaxed.
On this quiet weekend afternoon, when no one came to visit him...
With careful hands, he opened the double-locked confidential storage compartment inside the drawer beneath his desk.
It was a sophisticated security device that could only be opened by inserting the key into the double-lock mechanism and working the 360 dial in a five-by-two pattern. He had sacrificed some security to extend its lifespan and had not placed a sealing spell on it, but still.
Ivan brushed aside useless confidential documents, then picked up the solid box his fingertips found.
Click.
With the delicacy one would use to handle a thirteenth-rank mana bomb moments before detonation, Ivan put on gloves, dusted around the box with a feather duster, and carefully opened it.
The contents of the box glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window, briefly dazzling him.
No, perhaps it was this precious object itself that had dazzled him.
Swallowing dryly, he slowly lifted the treasure.
“Perfect.”
Made of metal. Minimal ornamentation. Pure functional beauty. Manufactured to exact specifications for easy carrying, with the internal spring mechanism concealed so cleverly that it could not be seen from outside.
It was firm, weighty, and sturdy. It was like looking at a newly made pistol, handcrafted by a master gunsmith.
He inhaled softly. There was the faint smell of metal in the air, mixed with a trace of oil.
There was not a single flaw. This was a perfect object.
“I haven't lost my touch yet.”
There was an old smithy at the western edge of Pritchenkaya, where he went whenever he needed his axe repaired or wished to place an order.
The master smith he had known since the war now made only agricultural tools, such as hoes and plows. The smith had completely retired from the weapons market.
Naturally, an axe was not a weapon. It was simply logging equipment. Ivan's reasonable and sound persuasion had therefore succeeded in rekindling the passion of the master smith, who had shouted that he was retired.
And with persuasion that could not possibly be refused, the smith had once again made this masterpiece according to Ivan's design.
“Whew...”
A sudden sense of guilt stabbed at his heart. It had been half an impulse purchase.
The money needed to make this one item could have put meat on the children's dinner plates every night for a week.
Perhaps it was the influence of the ruin's trap. No, it probably was. He had not been swayed by such meaningless desires for a very long time.
Click.
When he touched the object's mechanism, it changed shape with a sharp metallic sound. What had looked like a small rectangular strip of metal now began to take on a distinctive form.
Ivan carefully picked it up and slowly brought it to his beard.
Swish, swish.
It passed smoothly through the grain without friction, with a sensation as smooth as applying camellia oil.
Living in this damned premodern otherworld was never pleasant, but...
‘This... makes me smile.’
This was happiness.
He had acquired a perfect beard comb.
The blueprint for it could be called the greatest spoil he had gained from the ruins.
While three students agonized over how to erase his beard physically, politically, or conceptually, Ivan leaned back in his chair with a faint smile and enjoyed his rest.
* * *
“This letter... there were no signs it was forged?”
“Yes, brother. The handwriting matches Esi's one hundred percent.”
“And that bastard Mord didn't send any other message?”
“No, brother.”
Creak.
The thick wooden table beneath the giant's grip crumbled into powder and scattered.
In the dark room, a man wearing a fur cloak reeking of beast musk roughly tied back his spiked hair and rose from his seat.
“Brother, brother! No, but Aesidis isn't a child. Do you really think she'd make some mistake? C-calm down a little...!”
Crash!
The warrior who hurriedly stepped in front of the man was packed into a ball and sent flying. Without stopping, the man strode forward and threw open the doors to the royal hall.
The blazing summer sun illuminated his court. He swept his sharp gaze over the hall and growled like a wounded beast.
“Any other opinions?”
“How about burning him at the stake?”
“That would end too quickly.”
Droan's strongest warrior. The Warrior King. The Slayer. A one-man decisive-force weapon against armies. A single-handed weapon of mass slaughter.
Einar.
He crumpled Aesidis's letter and threw it away before starting to walk.
-I think I'll try getting married.
The only words left on the torn letter sadly drifted through the air, then flew away and vanished somewhere.
“Let's go, brothers. Let's go see what kind of bastard he is.”
“Yes, brother!!!”
* * *
Footnotes:
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