WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Ode of the Brave ◈
Chapter 41
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The Nameless One walked.
To Lindveil. To his hometown. To the place where he had been born, raised, and loved.
With every step came terrible memories. Memories he could not tell whether he wanted to forget or could never forget. Memories he had branded onto his own body so he would not forget them.
He had been trapped in the burning temple with the villagers, staring outside through a crack. His wife had already been brutally murdered, while his young son was dragged away by vicious enemies.
“Dad!”
That voice, desperately calling for him like a little lamb.
He had pounded the wall until his fists broke and cried out like a beast, but in the end, his son had died a miserable death.
The temple burned until one wall collapsed. The Nameless One barely managed to escape, but the tragedy had already happened.
He held his son’s body and wept until his throat went hoarse, until he forgot how to speak. The burns covering his face hurt less than that grief.
The Nameless One squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them again, his gaze burned with vengeance.
Far away, beneath a gloomy gray sky, stood a ruined, isolated village. A village nestled against a majestic mountain range capped with eternal snow to the north.
A village that had once been more peaceful than any other.
The Nameless One was already battered from head to toe, and his battle with the necromancer had left even his equipment in tatters. His entire body was covered in scratches and claw marks from the undead.
Yet why did the image of those two boys flicker before his eyes now?
The Nameless One shook his head hard, trying to drive them away.
How many years had he lived with nothing but burning vengeance? At last, the time had come. He would kill them, then die himself.
Whether he was strengthening his resolve or driving himself onward, the Nameless One walked toward the temple.
To burn his final flame.
The brick temple had one collapsed wall, and black scorch marks covered it everywhere.
Standing at the entrance with no door, he saw three people inside, sitting or standing as they talked. Hanet the Iron Rampart, Ghost Sword Ghost, and Mad Dog Steiner, three members of the Ernberg Five.
“Who are you? How did you get here?”
Steiner asked.
What answer did he need?
Instead of answering, the Nameless One drew a throwing axe.
His body looked ready to die at any moment. Most of his equipment was ruined. There were three opponents, and each was a renowned powerhouse throughout the Empire.
So what?
He had spent years burning his entire body with the flames of vengeance alone. He had lived for this moment. How could he retreat now?
It was neither courage nor madness.
Only vengeance.
That was all.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Clang!
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Clang!
The Nameless One hurled throwing axes in rapid succession, but Steiner watched the incoming axes and casually dodged them. Then he picked up a throwing axe that had fallen to the ground and threw it back.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Clang!
The Nameless One bent his upper body slightly to dodge it, but then a voice sounded behind him.
“Where are you looking?”
He quickly turned, but a burning pain shot through his side.
Then Steiner cried out urgently. Instinct warned him that no one should approach carelessly.
“Ghost! No!”
The Nameless One was already burning himself alive. A wound to the side could not extinguish that flame.
Pain?
So what?
With the sword still lodged in his side, the Nameless One spun around, seized Ghost, and tore into his throat with his teeth.
A cloth attached to the Nameless One’s helmet covered his face, but it did not matter. The Nameless One bit down with such force that a fistful of flesh tore away.
“Arrrgh!”
But that was not the end.
Still wearing his helmet, the Nameless One threw his head back, then drove it forward in a savage headbutt.
Crunch!
His face was crushed, but that was not what killed him.
His neck was broken.
Ghost died instantly, his face shattered and his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
When the Nameless One pulled the sword from his side, blood streamed down. Even so, he stood firm without wavering, the flames of vengeance blazing within him.
A sword in one hand.
An axe in the other.
“Y-you...”
Ghost’s death had been so sudden and miserable that Hanet stared wide-eyed in shock, unable to speak.
Then, losing his reason, he charged the Nameless One without even lifting the wall-like shield he carried. His enormous body made the ground shake with every step.
The Nameless One moved outside first. He intended to use the narrow entrance to fight.
In that moment, Steiner rushed over to examine Ghost’s condition. If there had been even the faintest breath left in him, Steiner meant to save him somehow, even with a potion.
But Ghost was already dead.
Meanwhile, Hanet chased the Nameless One and swung his massive fists.
Boom! Smack! Boom!
Whoosh! Smack!
The Nameless One barely dodged and chopped at Hanet’s forearm, but Hanet’s body was so enormous that the wounds were not fatal.
“You bastard!”
Hanet roared and raised both fists.
As Steiner drew his sword to join the battle, a young voice called out from somewhere.
“Mister!”
“Mister!”
Ricart and Boribori were running toward them from afar.
The Nameless One froze, his gaze wavering. It felt as though the flames of vengeance were going out.
No. No...
At that moment, Steiner rapidly turned his head, looking back and forth between the Nameless One and the two boys rushing toward them.
Then, with a vile and cunning thought, he ran toward the boys.
As Ricart ran until he was out of breath, he realized that the man charging toward them was Steiner.
“I’ll handle him. You go to Mister, now.”
“Okay!”
Ricart drew his sword, while Boribori ran around Steiner in a wide arc.
Then Steiner pulled a longsword from his waist, and a crimson light began to pour along its blade.
A Sword Master.
In that instant, Ricart instinctively knew that if his sword met that blade, his own sword would be cut apart.
The two rushed at each other without slowing down, changing positions as they exchanged strikes.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Their swords cut through empty air.
Only one exchange, yet Steiner instinctively understood.
This was no ordinary brat.
A chill crawled down his spine.
But Steiner was desperate now. Ghost was already dead, and if he did not join the fight, Hanet might also be in danger.
So he forced himself to ignore that cold sense of unease.
Steiner stepped forward boldly, leading with the Sword of Light. It was a movement only a Sword Master could make, one no ordinary swordsman could attempt, because the Sword of Light could cut through anything.
Attack and defense as one.
The sword descended diagonally like a ray of light. In that brief instant, Steiner realized that Ricart’s hands were empty.
He had let go of his sword.
Something is wrong.
The thought flashed through Steiner’s mind.
But he could not take it back.
At the exact point where his sword reached its highest speed and greatest force, Ricart caught the flat of the blade between both palms like he was snatching lightning and sharply twisted it aside.
The force Steiner had put into attacking Ricart now worked entirely against him. If he held on, his wrist would surely break.
So he simply let go of the sword.
It was an incredible reaction, but it meant nothing now that his sword had been taken.
Ricart caught the hilt after tossing the extinguished blade into the air, then aimed it at Steiner.
Steiner’s heart sank.
“...You bastard. You’re a mage.”
Having been defeated by a bizarre method that did not even seem possible, that was the only conclusion he could reach.
People naturally feared what they did not know. And now that even his sword had been taken, Steiner turned around and fled alone, abandoning comrades who had been like family to him for so long.
No one knew how he had become a Sword Master, but he was truly a vile coward.
No matter how high his mastery of the sword, Ricart could never lose to someone who had forgotten the essence of being a swordsman.
Ricart raised the sword high until its blade reached behind his back. Then he tensed his abdomen and hurled it with all his strength.
Every motion was perfect.
The sword shot forward in a straight line and pierced Steiner directly through the back.
Thud!
“Urgh!”
Ricart quickly picked up his meteoric iron sword and ran after him, swinging his blade at Steiner as he fell to the ground.
Steiner hurriedly turned his head and cried out.
“Wait!”
But Ricart cut off his head without the slightest hesitation.
Whoosh! Thud!
Steiner’s headless body collapsed limply to the ground.
It was the death of someone who had once desperately wanted divine punishment, then gave up on it, and finally rejected it.
For one of the Nine Swords of the Empire, a man infamous throughout the land, it was a hollow end.
Whether it was carelessness or a difference in skill, nothing showed victory and defeat more clearly than the living and the dead in a fight staked on life itself.
Perhaps Steiner had lost because he had lived vilely and acted vilely until the end. Though he could have faced the Nameless One, he had run toward the two boys.
Then he had fled to save himself.
He had lived like shit, so he died like shit.
That was all his life had been, and all his death was.
Meanwhile, the Nameless One was driven into a corner as his burning vengeance wavered. Not knowing what to do, his feet tangled, and Hanet’s fist struck him in the head.
With a crunch, his helmet came off, revealing a face covered in burn scars.
The blow left the Nameless One dazed, and he collapsed to the ground.
Then the young voice sounded again, snapping him back to awareness.
“Dad!”
Dad.
Dad.
Dad...
Boribori had called him that half as a joke until now, simply out of fondness. But this time, Boribori meant it from the heart.
Boribori had never received a father’s concern or love. To Boribori, the Nameless One truly was no different from a father.
That affectionate hand that had cared for Boribori while seeming indifferent.
It did not matter that he could not speak. Boribori could feel everything through that hand.
Hanet saw Boribori and thought this was perfect.
A cruel thought immediately entered his mind, and he left the Nameless One behind to seize Boribori as Boribori ran toward them.
Seeing that, something boiled up from the deepest part of the Nameless One’s heart.
Then the words he had lost burst from him at last.
“Child! Get back!”
But Boribori gathered all his mana and threw a powerful punch, knocking aside Hanet’s enormous reaching hand.
Smack!
Hanet was so startled by the unexpected strength that he froze for a moment.
In that opening, the Nameless One used Ghost’s sharp sword to slice through Hanet’s Achilles tendon.
“Arrrgh!”
A fatal opening had appeared, and Boribori moved in to join the Nameless One in finishing Hanet.
Then, suddenly, the Nameless One grabbed Boribori, lifted him up, and began running away without direction.
He was abandoning vengeance, abandoning everything, fleeing to save Boribori.
He did not need to do this. They could kill Hanet.
But at this moment, this was the only way the Nameless One could act.
No.
He had to.
No matter what.
No matter what happened, even if this body were torn apart and burned...
Perhaps because it was a meaningless act, its meaning was all the clearer.
Blood streamed from his side. Perhaps blood was running down his throat, perhaps his breath was failing. Only ragged, choking sounds came from him.
Yet even then, he kept muttering words buried deeper than that desperate vengeance.
“Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me...”
Boribori received that grieving father’s desperate love with his whole soul, tears streaming down his face.
“D-Dad...”
“Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me...”
The Nameless One did not use the final flame of his life for the vengeance he had yearned for so desperately.
He burned it all to save Boribori.
He did not get far before his knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground.
Startled, Boribori took off his bag with trembling hands and pulled out a potion. He hurriedly removed the Nameless One’s tattered equipment to treat him, but the state of his body was already horrific.
This was not something a potion could fix.
“I-I’ll forgive you. So, so please... please don’t die...”
Tears kept falling from Boribori’s eyes, and his voice caught so badly that he could barely speak. His hands trembled as he poured the potion over the wounds.
His hands would not obey him.
Boribori pressed his lips tightly together and forced himself to swallow back his tears.
Even so, tears poured down without stopping.
Watching from the ground, the Nameless One reached out in his final moments and wiped Boribori’s tears away.
With a gentle smile, he said,
“Do not cry, child...”
Then he let out a long breath, and his arm fell limp.
His unfocused blue eyes gazed beyond the gloomy sky.
Ricart had already finished Hanet and run over. Holding a bloodied sword, he watched everything.
His eyes wavered.
The Nameless One was clearly dead, yet Boribori did not stop treating him.
“Dad. Dad,” Boribori kept saying.
Boribori’s jaw shook so violently from crying that he could not chew the herbs properly. He forced his jaw closed with one hand and chewed.
His chest felt as if it would split apart from unbearable sorrow and pain.
Ricart closed his eyes. His eyelids trembled, and tears flowed over his lashes, as though the resentment he had once held toward the world were melting away.
Ricart thought:
He had surely been saved.
He had to have been.
I believe that he was...
The cruel chains of fate wrapped around humanity could only wound people through other people, and only other people could save them.
Every tragedy and comedy began with humanity and ended with humanity.
Thus, humans were the saddest beasts caught in the trap called fate.
Yet at the very end, the Nameless One cast away the vengeance that had consumed him and transcended fate.
And so, he became a father to Boribori.
He became a teacher of life to Ricart.
He became the person the two boys had needed most.
He was a truly noble and great man.
The wind was cold.
But the winter that had seemed as though it would never end was finally nearing its end.
Part 8: Ballad of a Nameless Beast. End.
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