WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Irevi
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 97: There Was a Time I Thought That Too
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“Hah.”
Climmud swallowed a bitter smile.
He couldn't believe it.
Every preparation he had made to bring down the anomaly had come to nothing in an instant.
He had been certain he could drive Halibal to his death.
Even if Halibal escaped, he had been confident he could take down at least one of the four.
‘What was that Arts ability? It wasn't in the reports.’
The Cult's bishops possessed the divine authority to observe the dungeon's situation in real time.
He had seen it clearly.
Necledin's final technique, Last Gasp. A lethal technique that dragged the person who killed its user into death as well.
It had clearly driven Alicia Cyrus to death. Yet this time, the Saintess had brought her back.
It was absurd.
Reviving someone who had already met death. Wasn't that the very act of defying heaven the Church of the Main Gods had always feared?
That was power akin to that of their own god, Tartarus. He had never imagined the Saintess would suddenly be able to use something like that.
‘If she had been able to do that from the beginning, she would have saved others in the past. She must have gained the ability to use resurrection during this raid.’
Climmud recalled looking through the records of the Beast Dungeon and the Doll Dungeon.
He had felt an inexplicable sense of unease from then on.
Halibal Velder.
He had often heard that Halibal was a genius.
But no matter how gifted he was, did any of this make sense?
He created never-before-seen Arts on the spot and defeated powerful enemies that should have been impossible to overcome.
Three times, no less?
A mere Academy freshman had accomplished what even the Empire’s Greatest Sword and the Knight Commander could not?
That was why he had prepared so thoroughly this time.
He had thought there would be no escaping this one.
So why had it failed again?
‘Was even this not enough?’
Climmud was an especially unusual figure among the bishops.
Most had risen to the position of bishop through overwhelming martial strength or special divine authority, but he alone had come from the very bottom.
All he possessed was a tongue that deceived others and the tenacity to exploit an enemy's weakness.
He had not earned the epithet Chariot by smashing through enemy lines head-on.
Once he chose a target, he would crawl through mud if he had to, just to utterly crush them. That tenacity was what had earned him the name.
Yet Halibal's advance showed no sign of stopping, enough to make even him shake his head.
“So this is what those so-called geniuses are like. Cut off their legs, and they come back with wheels.”
All of a sudden, Climmud wanted to see Halibal Velder with his own eyes.
He was well versed in human psychology, but there were limits to understanding someone through images alone.
“I'll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”
Climmud was already in the capital.
The Undead Dungeon raid had not brought the Cult only losses.
With the route from the front lines to the capital now open, it had become far easier to travel from the main headquarters to the capital.
The Stampedes at the front lines had also eased alongside the dungeon raid, allowing the person he “served” to return to the capital for this victory banquet.
He had entered the capital following her.
Whoosh.
At that moment, the candle before him flickered in the wind.
“Climmud. Are you ready?”
A bright voice came from beyond the door, and Climmud put on the mask of a kind, steadfast head butler.
“Yes, my lady. Did you call for me?”
Before the door stood a white-haired girl in a splendid dress, tapping her feet impatiently.
“Climmud! Why are you so late? What were you doing in there?”
“I was delayed while organizing some documents, my lady. Has something urgent happened?”
Termina Whiteusher, daughter of the Whiteusher Marquisate.
A second-year student at Ruidel Academy, she was one of the upperclassmen originally stationed at the front lines with the Raid Corps, holding back the advance of monsters.
Once Academy students became second-years, they were deployed to the front lines in earnest and had to fend off the Stampedes, the monster assaults spewed forth by Tartarus.
But the Imperial Family had sent invitations to the victory banquet to every Academy student this time, and the Stampedes had happened to subside.
Some upperclassmen who wanted a break had taken the opportunity to return to the capital, and Termina was one of them.
To her, Climmud was not a bishop of the Cult, but merely the loyal head butler of the Whiteusher Marquisate.
“The dress I'm wearing to the victory banquet arrived! Hurry up and come look at it!”
Termina grabbed his arm and pulled him along as she grumbled.
“Haha. Of course.”
The man who had risen from the lowest place turned his gaze toward the highest place in the capital.
“If my lady chose it, it must be the most splendid dress in the entire capital.”
Once he closed the door and left, only the dim candle that had not gone out remained, trembling in the wind.
The candlelight illuminated a small painting.
The Final Battlefield, a depiction from the Church of the Main Gods' doctrine of the last great war between the Main Gods and the Evil God.
At the center of the painting was a demonic dragon with black horns and wings, as though it would swallow the entire world.
Tartarus.
Opposite it stood the Main Gods, facing it alongside countless others. Beside them was an angelic figure surrounded by a Halo.
The Main Gods' vanguard commander, the Celestial Extremity God.
The only sword that would cut down Tartarus.
And the being currently dwelling within Aren's body.
It was a common painting that could be found anywhere connected to the Church of the Main Gods.
Yet this painting contained something that did not exist in the original Final Battlefield.
Above Tartarus's head.
The faint outline of a human figure.
It was subtle enough to go unnoticed unless one looked closely, but it was definitely there.
A being seated atop Tartarus's head like a rider.
Its shape was unclear, but the long robe and the crown upon its head could be vaguely made out.
⁎⁎⁎
The imperial capital, Luft.
If all infrastructure related to the Academy was concentrated in Nevil, Luft was a center in another sense.
It was where the Empire's largest population lived, the undisputed heart of the Empire.
At the very center of that heart, on the eastern edge where the sun rose, stood a building that seemed to pierce the sky.
That was the Solanis Imperial Palace, where the Cyrus Emperor resided.
Impeccably paved roads and orderly streets stretched out around the palace.
I rarely had reason to come to the capital, but I was always impressed whenever I did. Today, the scenery was especially spectacular.
A victory banquet celebrating the clearing of the third Abyss.
Flags bearing the sun emblem, symbol of the Empire, fluttered on every street, while Imperial Guards stood in flawless formation.
Instead of trams and trains, the streets were filled with magnificent carriages bearing the crests of various noble houses.
The procession stretched endlessly toward the Imperial Palace.
A flag fluttered from the carriage I was riding in as well.
A pattern of water lilies made of ice.
It was the crest of the Ren House.
This was my first time riding in a noble carriage. Actually, I had barely ridden in a carriage at all.
The interior was luxuriously furnished, as expected of a noble carriage, but I still couldn't get used to the distinctive shaking of four horses pulling it.
‘Seriously, why are there no cars in a world with trams and trains?’
Such an inefficient means of transportation.
Wouldn't it be better to just run there?
I grumbled inwardly and shifted in my seat.
Still, there was another reason I was uncomfortable.
“Halibal. Look over here.”
When I turned my head, Cecilia was staring intently at me from the seat beside mine.
So that was how things turned out.
Cecilia accepted my request to be partners, and as a result, I was attending the victory banquet with her.
Instead of her usual training clothes, she wore a gorgeous dress that revealed the line of her shoulders.
Every time she moved, the rustle of fabric tickled my ears, and the subtle scent of perfume I normally couldn't smell filled the cramped carriage.
The Forget-Me-Not Brooch I had given her was pinned in her hair.
I was wearing formal attire Adeline had had tailored for me.
She was the tomboyish type, so I hadn't expected much, but the formalwear she chose looked surprisingly good even to me.
Then Cecilia leaned toward me.
“What is this? Your collar is sticking out.”
As if it were only natural, she straightened my clothes.
I quietly let her adjust my collar.
Only after asking her to be my partner had I learned that, if not for me, Cecilia might have attended the victory banquet with Eugene.
Apparently, the children of the two families who represented the Noble Faction and the Imperial Faction needed to show the public that they got along.
“If Cecil wants it, it can't be helped.”
Thanks to Senia saying that, she would be attending as his partner this time.
Mine was not attending the banquet.
Since she was one of the leading figures of this raid, I naturally thought she would attend, but she herself had declined.
Having decided to live as a Saintess, she returned to White Spirit Hall as soon as the dungeon raid ended.
From what I heard, she had changed her attitude after this raid, despite having ignored White Spirit Hall's summons all this time.
She had begun getting involved in the Church of the Main Gods' internal political struggle in earnest, starting a tug-of-war with the Pope to establish her own power base.
Given the reason, the Imperial Family did not seem to take issue with her absence.
Other than Mine, it seemed that everyone I knew was attending the banquet.
As the carriage slowed, familiar faces passed by outside the window one after another.
Students I had met at the Academy.
For example, Elier was with Sadie, a brown-haired girl whose nose was covered in freckles.
In the original work, the two were paired through their shared artisan class.
Perhaps because of the lights, Elier's face was bright red.
Congratulations.
Ran was alone, but she was surrounded by more than five young nobles.
As the Fist King's disciple, she was as well known as Aren.
Her voluptuous figure also made her stand out wherever she went.
Ran openly looked uncomfortable as she clenched her fist.
‘So that's why Adeline told me not to go alone.’
I thanked Adeline and offered Ran my sympathies.
I saw Mar and Pasha as well. A few students who had asked me to teach them swordsmanship waved in my direction.
The other students had naturally split into groups and mingled among themselves.
Yet there were especially many unfamiliar faces among them.
People I had never seen at the Academy.
“There are a lot of faces I don't recognize.”
Cecilia seemed to have noticed the same thing.
“Could they be upperclassmen?”
‘That could be it.’
I had heard rumors that some upperclassmen from the front lines were returning early for this banquet.
They were people I should not have become involved with until the second semester.
Like anywhere else, upperclassmen gave underclassmen all kinds of shit. As if it were some instinct etched into the human body.
What they did once they returned was kick away the ladder beneath the first-years.
Well, they had gone through it too, so I understood why they did it.
That didn't make it any less annoying.
‘Still, they won't start any shit at the banquet, right?’
...There was a time I thought that too.
The carriage stopped, and I got out first to help Cecilia down.
The first sight that met our eyes was this.
“So you're the inheritor of the Ultimate Divine Sword who supposedly led this raid?”
A guy who looked like an upperclassman was picking a fight with Aren.
Aren was dressed as a man.
She was wearing formal menswear, but her small build and youthful face could not be hidden.
A large upperclassman stood in front of her with his arms crossed.
Other upperclassmen stood nearby as well.
“Hey, aren't you going to answer? Are you really Aren Bright? You look a lot more scrawny than I expected.”
Despite his frivolous attitude, his presence itself was sharp. So he did have some experience from the front lines.
The first-years around them whispered.
“...Aren't those second-years?”
“Aren was the star of this raid... Is this okay?”
Aren looked tense from the unfamiliar formalwear and unwanted attention.
Her hand reached toward her waist out of habit, but there was naturally nothing there.
“...Please move aside.”
“Oh? Listen to that voice. You cleared one dungeon as a first-year, and now you already think your seniors are a joke?”
The upperclassman looked Aren up and down and sneered.
‘He is a joke. That dungeon was the Evil God's Abyss.’
This had been one of the ridiculous parts of the original game too. Upperclassmen trying to pick a fight with the protagonist after she had cleared three Evil God Dungeons.
Dealing with them one by one was also part of the main scenario.
“Listen up, all of you! While we were fighting monsters at the front lines until we shit blood, weren't you all back at the Academy living easy?”
‘Here we go. Kicking away the ladder.’
Starting this crap right at the entrance to the Imperial Palace.
Had all that fighting stunted his brain?
Honestly, I didn't want to get involved.
The upperclassman seemed to take Aren's silence as agreement and pressed further.
He shoved Aren by the shoulder.
“Why aren't you saying anything? Were you really just hiding under Her Highness's skirt?”
Alicia was the princess, and she was well regarded even among the upperclassmen.
He was trying to use her as a shield to put down Aren, a first-year.
At that moment, Richard approached my side.
He gave Cecilia a slight bow, then added in a low voice.
“What the hell is wrong with that idiot?”
He was glaring at the upperclassman as if he had witnessed something unbearable.
Richard still did not care much for Aren, but after crossing swords with her several times in the Raid Corps, he at least acknowledged her strength.
‘In the original work, you were the one in that idiot position.’
Just as those words rose to the tip of my tongue, someone unbelievable entered my view.
A group of upperclassmen trying to avoid getting involved in the confrontation. Among them was a large man dressed as a butler, attending a white-haired female student.
‘...Why is that bastard here?’
The Tartarus Cult's sixth bishop.
Climmud Raju.
The bishop who had twisted the Undead Dungeon's patterns into such a goddamn mess.
For some reason, he was standing openly at the entrance to the banquet hall.
Footnotes:
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