Chapter 2

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ How the Child of Prophecy Survives ◈

Chapter 2: True Warrior

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As far as Ernst could remember, his father Hires had not been a particularly affectionate man. Hires treated Ernst very strictly.

Ernst was afraid of his father, even though Hires had never once struck him or raised his voice at him.

Hires only looked at Ernst when he was disciplining him. His cheeks were always hollow, his eyes shadowed, and his gloomy gaze was always fixed somewhere other than Ernst.

Like a ghost. Or a corpse.

But as time passed, Ernst came to realize that his father was not simply as cold and heartless as he had thought. It began in the spring of the year Ernst turned ten, when his heart first started causing trouble.

In truth, most of Ernst's memories from then were hazy. He did not know when he had collapsed or when he had taken medicine.

But one memory remained very clear.

Ernst lay in bed in a drugged daze, taking shallow, ragged breaths.

He understood and accepted with startling clarity that he was dying. His condition had been so bad that even though he was only ten, he had thought so.

Leaning into the warm light cast by the faint candle at his bedside, Ernst looked around. Alone in a room lit by a single little candle, Ernst clearly saw the darkness reaching for him and baring its teeth.

"......"

But when he found his father sitting curled up in a chair in a corner far from the bed, hands clasped as though praying to God and looking at him with desperate intensity, Ernst realized he had been wrong.

It seemed to Ernst as though Hires would be swallowed by the darkness and vanish. The darkness had reached out and bared its teeth not to devour Ernst. It was surely trying to devour Hires.

Ernst also realized that his father was not brusque and heartless, but a deeply sad person.

Those black eyes, heavy with sorrow, loneliness, despair, and fear, looked like the darkness of a bottomless abyss swallowing Hires's very soul.

'Ah. So that was it.'

Seeing his father so desperate, Ernst thought he might have smiled a little, even as he lay there gasping and dying.

Whether Hires's prayers were answered or he had simply been lucky, Ernst recovered from his illness safely. He had to keep taking medicine because there was no telling when his heart might act up again, but he never again collapsed and lay dying as he had then.

After recovering, Ernst developed one strange habit.

"Ernst. You've lit up the whole house again. What if you start a fire?"

Ernst took out every candle and lamp in the house, then diligently went around lighting them once night came. Hires scolded his son for it several times. The small Krieger house did not have a single commercially available Valt light, so a fire could easily break out if they were careless.

It was not that Hires worried about the cost of candles and oil. Though House Krieger lived in a small, old home, it had never lacked money.

"Then I'll be careful not to start one."

After saying that to the father he had once feared, Ernst moved the candlesticks and lamps to the center of the room. He did it so the flames would not catch the curtains or tablecloth. Like any child's thought, it was wonderfully innocent. As a result, the candles and lamps sitting alone in the middle of the room made it hard to walk around, while failing to light the places that actually needed light.

Hires scolded Ernst several more times. But Ernst, who until then had only cautiously nodded at his father's words, stubbornly repeated his strange behavior. In the end, Hires had special brass candlesticks and lamps made so the flames could not spread elsewhere, nailed them to desks and walls, and even made several safety measures in case of an emergency.

"Your stubbornness has defeated mine in the end."

After several fierce months of back-and-forth, Hires finally declared surrender to his young son.

Considering that he had money yet had not bought Valt lights, Hires was hardly in a position to call Ernst stubborn.

At Hires's declaration of surrender, Ernst gave his father the first shy smile he could remember giving him.

From then on, the little old Krieger house, once gloomy and sunken, always glittered with warm light. Hires also seemed to smile a little more.

Then, when summer came, Ernst went to the Youth Military Academy with his father.

He was not going to enroll. He had gone to take the Valt aptitude test, which everyone was required to take at the age of ten.

If a person was judged suitable in the Valt aptitude test, they were called a Valtlacher. Depending on their ability, they were assigned one of four classes.

A Third-Class Valtlacher could transfer Valt stored in one Valt battery into another. That was all, but they were valuable personnel needed by the many Valt industries as well as the military.

A Second-Class Valtlacher could draw Valt from a Valt battery and wield it. Usually, if a Valtlacher at this level underwent harsh training for a long time, they could gain the power to move things without touching them. Second-Class Valtlachers rarely worked in industry or research and usually joined the military. From the moment they enlisted, they became Senior Captains, so it was safe to say their lives truly opened up from there.

A First-Class Valtlacher could use special abilities. Using Valt batteries, they could read people's emotions, foresee events that would happen a very short time later, see through to the other side of objects, or heal wounds. Their work varied depending on the ability they possessed.

A First-Class Valtlacher who enlisted started as at least a Senior Captain and might rise to field-grade or general-officer rank depending on their ability. Some entered research institutes. They were the Empire's finest talents.

And lastly, there was the Master Valtlacher. There was only one in the world: Walter Ulrich Mihanil, emperor of the Mihanil Empire and the first Valtlacher, the one and only being said to be able to wield Valt without a Valt battery.

Everyone had to take the Valt aptitude test at ten. Countless children and their families eagerly awaited that moment.

The children dreamed of becoming powerful Valtlachers who could wield transcendent power, while the adults dreamed that their children would become Valtlachers and bring them immense wealth and glory.

Like any other child, Ernst wanted to become a powerful Valtlacher, so he had greatly anticipated this moment.

Hires did not look happy. No, to begin with, Hires had no reason to sell his young son as a tool of the Empire.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't recognize you..."

"Naturally not. It's been so long since I retired."

That was when Ernst first realized that his father was a retired soldier.

The soldiers conducting the Valt aptitude test treated Hires, who had been retired for a long time, with great politeness and respect. Hires was not receiving special treatment. All active or retired officers of field grade or higher were treated with respect.

In other words, Hires had retired at no lower than field grade.

So, returning to the Valt aptitude test, Ernst's result was, to get straight to it, unsuitable.

The test assessed Valt aptitude by having children handle testing devices divided into five categories based on size and Valt storage capacity. Ernst did no more than make a tiny, faint blue light flash once from the smallest Valt testing device.

He did not lack aptitude entirely, but his level was too low to use the supernatural power known as Valt in practice. More than half of those judged unsuitable were at exactly this level, so there was no point regretting it.

"What splendid talent. It is certain that Their Majesty, the great Emperor of the glorious Mihanil Empire, has blessed this child. Child, you will handle and study Valt, the source of the Empire's strength, and become a hero who leads the Empire toward a better future."

"Thank you! Long live Their Majesty the great Emperor!"

The futures of children found to possess excellent talent in the Valt aptitude test were decided immediately. A Third-Class Valtlacher would work in industry, but even then, the wages were high enough to restore a declining household.

In that sense, the new Second-Class Valtlacher born at this very moment could rightly be called the star of the day.

That boy would skip the Youth Military Academy and enroll directly in the Imperial Military Academy in Grimman, the imperial capital. There, he would receive harsh training as a Second-Class Valtlacher in the special training department. At the earliest, he would graduate from the academy and become a Senior Captain at fifteen. At the latest, before turning twenty.

The boy's parents burst into tears of joy, repeatedly giving thanks for the Emperor's grace. They would no longer have to worry about making a living. If their child achieved great merit on the battlefield, they might even become hereditary nobles.

"Are you disappointed?"

Hires asked after seeing his son, who had been judged unsuitable, staring at the boy who had become a Second-Class Valtlacher.

"...Yes. A little."

Ernst answered with an embarrassed smile. Hires quietly looked down at his unusually mature young son, then silently began walking. Ernst followed his father out of the Youth Military Academy.

But when they returned home, Ernst realized he was more disappointed than he had thought. Curled up in his room with reddened eyes, he thought of the boy who had rejoiced at becoming a Second-Class Valtlacher. No, he thought of the boy's parents, crying with emotion.

"Ernst."

"...Yes, Father."

Hires called to his son in a low voice, then silently looked at him with an unreadable expression. Just as Ernst blinked his reddened eyes in confusion at his wordless father, Hires spoke to his young son in a slightly stiff voice.

"Come with me."

Ernst sniffled softly and hurried after his father, who had already left the room.

Hires silently made his way to the basement storage room. All sorts of miscellaneous objects lay in disarray there, covered in dust and cobwebs. Ernst had never entered the basement before, so he was a little frightened, but he tried not to show it as he followed his father downstairs.

Hires roughly pushed things aside as he headed to the farthest corner of the storage room. Each time, clouds of dust rose, and shadows swayed as though tiny insects hidden in the darkness were moving, leaving Ernst unable to relax.

"...I should clean this place."

Perhaps uncomfortable with showing his son the mess of the basement, Hires murmured quietly. Though Hires always cleaned the house with obsessive thoroughness, the basement was the one place he never touched.

At the corner, Hires pulled out a box that had been carelessly shoved away. Then he turned and left the basement again. This time, Ernst led the way upstairs.

Hires looked up at the back of his young son carefully climbing the stairs, flooded with light, as though the sight hurt his eyes. Dust drifted thickly through the air, making Ernst seem wrapped in light as he climbed into the sky.

"Father?"

"......"

Ernst called to Hires, who was blankly staring up at him from the dust-covered basement. Hires's lips trembled as though he were about to say something, but he slowly climbed the stairs and left the basement.

"What is it?"

Ernst usually waited quietly for his father to speak, but this time, he could not restrain his curiosity.

The box Hires had taken out was so covered with dust and cobwebs that it looked suffocating. Yet even so, the splendor of the black velvet and gold-plated decorations hidden beneath could not be concealed.

"......"

Hires silently looked down at the dusty, cobweb-covered box, then slowly undid the clasp.

Click.

The clasp of a box that had clearly been neglected for an unknowable length of time came undone with a surprisingly smooth, neat sound. Hires slowly opened it.

"...Wow..."

Ernst's eyes widened in wonder at what appeared inside.

The box was luxuriously lined with red velvet. Inside lay a dark-blue officer's dress uniform and a Valt pistol.

The Valt pistol emitted a mysterious white light, though Ernst did not know what it was made of. The rectangular Valt battery inserted into it was the same.

Everything about it, from its shape to its firing mechanism, was now outdated. But none of that mattered, because this Valt pistol had not been made to actually fire upon and kill enemies.

It was a highly precious item produced for officers of field grade or higher during the Mihanil Empire's War of Conquest.

But more than the Valt pistol, what caught Ernst's attention was the dark-blue officer's dress uniform.

The uniform was crumpled in disarray, as though someone had shed it and tossed it in. Yet the medals hanging thickly from its left breast had not lost their shine, glittering brightly.

No fewer than seven medals hung from Hires's dress uniform. If he wore it, the heavy medals would likely make the uniform sag and make it uncomfortable to move.

"......"

Hires quietly looked at his splendid uniform. Countless unknowable things swirled within his dry, harsh eyes.

"That's the rank insignia, right? What rank is it?"

Daring not to touch the uniform, Ernst carefully pointed at its shoulder boards with a small finger and asked Hires.

Hires rubbed the silver rank insignia, blackened with age, with a dust-covered hand as he spoke.

"Jewels indicate company-grade rank. Laurel branches mean field grade. General officers have gold instead of silver."

At Hires's words, Ernst counted the jewels in the rank insignia, which had darkened so much it was hard to make them out.

One, two, three.

"You were a colonel?"

"Yes."

Ernst stared up at his father with round eyes. Even Ernst knew how high the rank of colonel was. He did not know the details, but he knew it was just below general officer.

If Ernst had known about the state of the Mihanil Imperial Army and its medals in the days when Hires had served, he would have been even more astonished.

House Krieger was a small family consisting only of Hires and Ernst. Moreover, the military academy had not yet been established at the time.

That meant Hires had come from an insignificant house, started at the very bottom, and risen step by step to colonel at the young age of his early thirties. The seven medals on his uniform revealed the incredible military achievements he had earned, but Ernst did not understand what any of them meant.

The medals awarded during the Mihanil Empire's War of Conquest had not been handed out freely for one excuse or another as they were now. They had been awarded only to those who had performed deeds truly worthy of them. Seven medals were more than enough to call someone a war hero.

As Ernst tried to look more closely at the medals, Hires quickly shut the box. Every one of them was something he should have been proud of, but strangely, Hires seemed deeply uncomfortable with them.

Without looking into the eyes of his son, who was watching him with disappointed hope, Hires spoke in a low voice.

"...You cannot enter the Youth Military Academy now, but if you want to, you should be able to enter the Imperial Military Academy."

Hires spoke in an emotionless voice, without meeting his son's eyes as he had in the past.

"Krieger is a hereditary noble house, and a retired field-grade officer is in your direct line. You should qualify as long as you meet the minimum requirements."

Hires's attitude was strange, but Ernst had no room to notice it.

"Really? Could I become a great soldier like you, Father?"

Like an ordinary child his age, Ernst looked up at his father with sparkling eyes. Without looking into the eyes filled with his son's respect and expectation, Hires spoke softly, almost in a whisper.

"You could become a greater soldier than I was. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps... You may even become a Bewachter."

"A Bewachter?"

"The Emperor's personal guard."

The Bewachter, the Emperor's personal guard, was a unit outside the usual Imperial Army rank structure. They obeyed only the Emperor's orders and protected only the Emperor. Other units protected the imperial family and the Imperial Palace.

Chosen from the finest bloodlines of distinguished high nobles or trustworthy military families, the Bewachter had to meet both lineage and ability requirements. Even a company-grade officer would not dare treat a Bewachter soldier carelessly.

If a Bewachter rose through the ranks to become a commander, they could wield terrifying power. They gained the privilege of guarding the Emperor at close range and speaking directly with the Emperor.

So even if Hires was a war hero who had become a colonel at a young age, it would be nearly impossible for Ernst to become a Bewachter. High nobles of baron rank or above with their own territories, as well as general officers, poured unimaginable money and influence into lobbying to place their children in the Bewachter.

"Really? Could I really become one?"

"If you work hard, you can."

But to his son's flushed, excited face and stamping feet, Hires said he could become one as though it were nothing. His voice was far too dry for it to have been merely an attempt to protect his son's young heart.

Yet those dry words were enough to make Ernst dream of becoming a Bewachter, the Emperor's personal guard, the greatest honor a soldier could achieve and the path to the center of power coveted by every noble in the Empire.

"Entering the Imperial Military Academy and graduating will not be difficult, but becoming a Bewachter will not be easy."

Hires stood and brushed dust from his hands.

"You will need to graduate at the top of your class."

"At the top of my class?"

"Yes."

Ninety percent of Imperial Military Academy cadets were the Empire's greatest elite, nobles from military families who had advanced through the Youth Military Academy. Some had been trained from the moment they began walking and talking.

To graduate first from the Imperial Military Academy would be no less than becoming one of the Empire's greatest talents. It was not something that could be accomplished with a family name alone.

Hires quietly looked down at his own dusted-off hands. Staring at those rough hands, where scars had not faded despite the passing years, Hires saw a wound that ran across his left hand and circled all the way around to its back. He squeezed his eyes shut.

After a while, Hires spoke in a calm voice.

"I will train you, Ernst."

Only after saying that did Hires finally look directly at his young son.

"Graduating first will depend on you, but you will not lose even the chance because your education was lacking."

Hires was an able soldier with truly remarkable skills. He was a hero born of war who had risen to colonel in his early thirties. Of course he could teach Ernst what he needed in order to become a Bewachter.

His eyes shining with respect, Ernst answered his father energetically.

"Yes, Father! I'll definitely graduate first from the Imperial Military Academy!"

In truth, Ernst had never particularly thought he wanted to become a soldier. Until Hires told him just moments ago, he had not even known what a Bewachter was.

But the young boy who wanted to become a great soldier like his father, to make his father happy and become someone his father could be proud of, decided his path at that moment.

Hires quietly looked at Ernst, then slowly nodded.

"Then, training will... No, no."

Hires let out a small sigh and looked out the window at the scene outside, where darkness was slowly creeping in.

"First, let us wash up and eat dinner tonight."

"Then will training start tomorrow?"

"No."

Hires turned to Ernst and smiled faintly.

"Tomorrow, we'll first do something about that mess of a basement."

"...Yes..."

Thinking of the basement full of dust, cobwebs, and insects silently crawling through its dark corners, Ernst answered softly, his face a little pale.

Hires roughly kicked the dust-covered box containing his dress uniform and pistol toward the basement entrance. Ernst had never seen Hires behave so untidily and was startled, but he said nothing.

"......"

Having entered the bathroom to wash his dust-covered body, Hires lowered his head and stared endlessly at the floor.

Hires's eyes looked black and sunken, as if countless things had surged and melted within them, like a bottomless abyss into which not a single point of light could enter.

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