WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 761: Black Lightning

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The corrupted ones, the residents of the Cursed Ground, were terrified.

Zhoroslavb had shown no such reaction when he first came forward, but that was probably because he expected Enkrid and the group to die. Whatever the reason, it would not have been easy to anticipate that an outsider arriving out of nowhere one day would upend every aspect of their lives.

In all likelihood, the villagers had treated every wanderer and adventurer who passed through with courtesy. They had no reason to treat them badly, nor did they have the strength or will to do so.

There was even less reason to resist a blade held under their noses.

Push too hard, and whoever held it might swing.

Beyond that, they knew full well that if left alone, the Cleanser would come and kill any visitors who passed through.

But the Cleanser was dead now. The demon god's symbol had been severed. The villagers themselves had buried and disposed of the bodies of the Demon Creatures and Magic Beasts that had swarmed in.

Getting anyone to open up in a situation like this was not easy.

Even the children looked pale with fright.

Their faces were light purple to begin with, so there was some room for debate over whether they had turned blue or dark.

"Watch closely. Times like this call for someone with a kind face to step up."

Rem said it with confidence as he faced the frightened villagers. A smile and a gentle word, that was all it would take. It was close to arrogance, honestly.

Ting.

Ragna heard that and drew his sword about one knuckle's worth. The words “kind face” must have grated on both Ragna and Enkrid.

Ragna looked at Enkrid.

His eyes carried a question: would it be all right to cut down someone who said something like that?

"The attempt itself isn't bad. Anyone can try."

Rem was actually quite good-looking, even if no one here would admit it. Strong features and a distinctive air, the sort of man whose unusual presence was attractive in its own way.

But that was not the same thing as a kind face. Not at all.

"P-please, spare me. There isn't enough meat on me to eat."

A gaunt, hollow-cheeked woman bowed her head and spoke, pressing a child close to her chest.

Rem's mood curdled instantly. His expression darkened. Instead of a smile, the face of an evil god settled over his features.

"Cannibalism? Killing bastards like that was supposed to be my duty, and you think I'd practice cannibalism?"

Rem worked himself into a state, and Enkrid stepped in to calm him down. Ragna shook his head. Jaxon, rarely, gave a small smirk.

Rem saw it and started up again, but Enkrid roughly restrained him and asked the questions himself. Oddly enough, the villagers answered readily.

A few of the women flushed in the middle of it, but Enkrid simply stayed calm, asking and listening.

It was plain to see. Frightened as they were, their eyes kept drifting to his face.

Well, that was not the only reason. Zhoroslavb, who seemed to be the village leader, was quietly coaxing the people along by then.

More precisely, Enkrid had stepped forward after noticing that.

The way they looked at Enkrid was strange, but there was nothing bad in it. It was filled only with one-sided favor and respect.

Anyway, they were ready to talk now.

"Discrimination?"

The already-sour Rem muttered as he watched them.

"It's the face," Jaxon corrected.

Clang!

Sparks flew between the two. Rem swung his axe at Jaxon, who stood three steps back, and Jaxon drew his Stiletto and deflected it at an angle. That was what made the sparks.

The Sword of Chance, was that what it was called? Jaxon naturally employed the sword art he had learned from Enkrid.

Truthfully, he had understood the underlying principle long ago and drilled it endlessly. He had trained surrounded by first-rate assassins on all sides, telling them to stab at will and reacting to every movement.

Now it had reached full maturity.

Rem glared at Jaxon, who had just turned his axe aside.

"You want to die?"

"Not by your hand."

Jaxon corrected him again, and the two fought a little more seriously.

Clang! Ping! Clang-clang-clang!

Sparks kept flying between them. Step too close, and anyone would end up as minced meat. Fell and Ropord watched the two and ushered the bystanders away.

"This is normal. They're always like this."

Ropord said it calmly, hoping to put people at ease, though it naturally made some of the villagers even more terrified.

Still, they answered each of Enkrid's questions in turn.

Ruagarne watched it all and was impressed.

"Indeed, he lives up to the epithet Demonic Charm."

Sinar took up Ruagarne's remark.

"That's right. It is demonic charm that can ensnare even elves."

They were practically teasing him.

Enkrid let their words go in one ear and out the other, quietly gathering information through all the chaos. That evening, he shared what he had learned with the group.

"Lightning strikes if you get close."

"There's a Sorcerer who commands black lightning."

"If you set foot in there and make one wrong step, you'll be sealed in a crystal prison forever, your soul put to labor. You won't be able to leave even after death, and you'll labor forever."

Those were the villagers' words.

Strange and frightening stories, one after another. That was how the villagers saw it.

Enkrid found more than a few weak points in what he heard.

Labor for eternity? Considering how afraid of that they were, the lives of the people in this village did not look easy to begin with.

This settlement was independent too. In that sense, was it really so different? At least when it came to labor. Life here could not be sustained without work.

They tilled land where crops did not grow abundantly, and if a weed imbued with demonic energy grew in a field, it would steal nutrients from what little crop there was, so they had to pull it out one by one.

But did those weeds simply come out quietly? Let their care slip even a little, and flowers that drank human blood would bloom. They had to find and kill such things before they bloomed, so it could not have been easy.

A few skilled hunters might bring in ordinary animals or Magic Beasts, but there was no one they traded with on any regular basis.

Self-sufficient, in other words. And self-sufficiency demands more labor than most people imagine.

They had to till the soil, hunt on occasion, repair and make goods, build homes, preserve food, and more. Labor and skill went into every one of those things.

Where skill was lacking, they would have to make up for it with their bodies and time.

Producing everything one needed meant moving one's own body to do it.

'They must have developed their own techniques along the way.'

From that angle, something caught Enkrid's eye. The leather everyone wore was clean and worked to a level that was anything but ordinary.

They had skillfully made use of tough Magic Beast and Demon Creature hides of varying sizes.

There were many people in Border Guard and villages along the boundaries of the Cursed Ground who used Magic Beast hide in similar ways, but Enkrid had never seen it so neatly made and worn like clothing.

One person had it draped like a vest. Another had made a wide skirt from it. The way it rippled in the wind showed that it was thin, but even at a glance it looked sturdy enough that a crude blade would not leave a mark on it.

Enkrid was no merchant, but he could judge the condition of fabric and leather well enough. He had spent years working as a merchant's escort. How could he not know?

Something so obviously exceptional was easy to recognize.

Fine goods reveal their quality even to an untrained eye.

'They hunted Magic Beasts, skinned them, and used their hides.'

Working Magic Beast hide would not have been easy. There must have been research and accumulated practice in tanning over a long period.

That was what had allowed their skill in handling leather to advance by leaps and bounds.

'They probably sold some of those hides to the occasional person who lost their way or came here.'

They had no regular trading partners, but they might meet a bold, adventurous peddler from time to time.

Either way, looked at from this angle, living here still meant a lifetime of labor. No different in that respect.

Many of them had blunt fingertips and thin, sharp nails, while their hands were stained blue regardless of their skin color. It was the price of using special fruits and plants that grew in the Cursed Ground.

Of course, Enkrid could not know every detail of their lives. He was only making guesses based on some of the information visible to him.

There was no reason to say any of it aloud.

The last thing the villagers told him was this.

"If you die inside, you have to wear a thorn shroud."

That was roughly the whole of what had been passed down through oral tradition. Everything else was a story derived from it.

"To sum it up, there’s black lightning, imprisonment in a crystal prison, and finally the thorn shroud."

Ropord summarized what Enkrid had said. Ruagarne's cheeks puffed out lightly, then deflated, then puffed out again.

The unknown always made Frog's heart race.

Of course, those who would explore the unknown while knowing full well they would die were nothing more than fleas incapable of controlling their own desires.

Rem, calmed down after his bout with Jaxon during the day, asked, "So what is all this?"

From what they had heard, it was hard to make anything of it. Was there really a Sorcerer? Maybe. Maybe not.

In Rem's eyes, everything the villagers had told them amounted to little more than a patchwork of rumors. Whenever there was a gap in the story, they had probably filled it with imagination.

What the residents of the Cursed Ground knew for certain was only this: no one who had gone inside had ever returned.

"Do you know what it is?"

Fell looked at Enkrid and asked.

They had settled in a reasonably wide area in one corner of the town. No campfire had been lit, but the night was bright with moonlight.

The light cast by two moons formed light and shadow across Enkrid's face. Between them, his two blue eyes seemed to show their color even at night.

Fell thought that gaze came from certainty.

All eyes drifted to Enkrid. Did the others feel the same? Had the captain noticed something?

Enkrid was quietly lifting his gaze toward the Cursed Ground.

Fell thought Enkrid's gaze must be seeing something different from what Fell saw. Ropord thought the same.

'The captain is different.'

The moment Ropord heard about going inside the Cursed Ground, resistance had risen up, but watching Enkrid's back made that resistance fade.

Then Enkrid answered.

"No."

It was an answer to whether he knew anything. Moonlight carried the brief silence.

"You don't know?"

Fell asked again. Perhaps because Fell had picked it up from Jaxon, Fell had developed a habit of speaking tersely when flustered.

"Yeah, I don't."

Enkrid was unbothered.

What was there to figure out from just hearing those stories?

Black lightning? If real lightning struck, how would he block it? Or would he be able to react to it?

Enkrid would have to rely partly on instinct.

'You can block lightning, right?'

The question was aimed inward, at Duskforge. The sword did not answer. It held no self, so of course it would not.

But Duskforge was also a weapon inscribed with Enkrid's Will. In response to its owner's intent, the sword trembled faintly.

Hummm.

That tremor was an affirmation.

It was a quiet night.

Everyone heard the sword tremble. Enkrid looked at the group and smiled, the way a boy smiles when he first falls in love.

More precisely, the way a boy smiles while standing on the road to meet that first love.

Enkrid's voice held more anticipation than anyone else gathered there, Ruagarne included.

"One thing I do know. There will be several Colonies inside."

"And?"

Ragna picked up the trailing word and asked.

Even in the area around them, there were numerous Colonies, as well as wandering Demon Creatures capable of easily devouring a Colony.

There would be even more inside.

"Smash them, and the Cursed Ground's domain will shrink."

Whatever was in there, he would fight it. He did not know what might come out of that fight, and that was exactly what made him excited. It was plain in his tone and attitude.

It could be called an expression of fighting spirit equal to his drive for growth.

No one could blame anyone for saying he had gone half-mad.

But he had picked up a sword in the first place to fight unknown opponents like this. Training was enjoyable, but drawing that training out and using it was even more enjoyable.

"I see."

Fell let out a breath of admiration.

"They truly live up to the name Knights of Madness."

Teresa nodded twice and added that. The blood of a Giant, a Magic Beast with red blood, flowed within her. In other words, her blood carried an instinct for battle.

Did it always have to be restrained? Was restraint always the answer?

"This sounds like fun."

Teresa nodded once more in agreement.

No one present was ordinary. Even those who might have been had now been infected by madness.

They all nodded at Teresa's words.

Hoooo-ooo-ooo.

An owl cried somewhere in the distance. It was not an ordinary owl. The moment they heard it, instinctive revulsion arose within them.

What was wrong with enjoying even that unpleasant sensation?

Enkrid said so with a smile.

Even Romen was caught up in the mood, enough to regret not being able to join them right away.

The next day, the whole group stepped inside the Cursed Ground.

* * *

Dark reddish-brown trees that looked as though they did not belong in this world stood densely packed together. Between them ran a path just wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast.

That was the entrance to the Cursed Ground.

More precisely, it was the only entrance the residents of the Cursed Ground knew of.

The group rose in the morning, watched dawn break, and walked inside.

"The air is foul. Far too foul."

Sinar said it. The others agreed, but it was not a problem.

As they walked along the gently curving path through the Cursed Ground, they could no longer see behind them. Reddish-brown trees stood before, behind, to the left, and to the right.

No, looking more closely, the trees carried a faint reddish tinge. It was red so dark it appeared reddish-brown.

How long had they walked?

Was there a boundary? No.

Nothing blocked the way.

And yet, from the start, it was different from entering the Gray Forest.

With every step Enkrid took toward the Cursed Ground, something seemed to tug at his ankles.

Then, when he stepped forward again, Enkrid knew he had crossed some boundary.

No one had to tell him. He could feel it. The air beyond that boundary was so heavy and unfamiliar that the air before it could have been called warm.

As if someone had mixed iron filings into the air, even breathing was uncomfortable.

For most people, or more precisely, for any human who had not reached the level of a Knight, the moment they entered, it would feel as though their breath had been cut off.

"This is truly unpleasant."

Sinar said it. She expressed twice the discomfort she had before.

Enkrid merely looked ahead.

Then he saw a black dot.

The moment he recognized it, his thoughts slowed.

Intuition and instinct warned him. If he could not avoid it, he would die.

A small black dot flew toward him, and a sound came from far away.

Fwoooosh!

The flying object and the sound separated. It was a phenomenon caused by the projectile moving too fast.

It was a small noise compared to lightning striking, but keen hearing caught even the separated sound.

Then the dot drew closer, stretched out long, and came down as black lightning.

'Rippling lightning.'

It did not move in a straight line, but swayed like a wave. His thoughts divided, and he took in its form. It was a long arrow.

'The target?'

It was lightning aimed precisely at his forehead.

In the gap where time had split, his accelerated mind traced the fastest route and line.

Enkrid moved along that line. His body rotated around his waist. His dark green cloak wrapped around him with the sudden movement, and Duskforge surged toward the sky.

Footnotes:

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