WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 206: Land Flowing Like a River - 8

──────

General's Weapon: Bladed Pistol.

A weapon the military state had painstakingly created for Historia alone.

It was a pair of pistols linked by a chain at the ends of their grips. Sharp blades rose along the edges of the black barrels, honed enough for both stabbing and slashing.

The blades did not render the guns or chain meaningless. Heavy, specially made rounds waited hungrily within the muzzles, while the chains connecting the pistols served their own purpose as well.

The pistol Historia threw flew toward the regressor's face, its chain clattering behind it.

Not a bullet, but the gun itself.

‘That damned gun. It isn't even properly a gun or a sword...!’

The regressor spun Jizan once and thrust it forward, trying to wrap the chain around it.

Historia caught on at once. She aimed her other pistol and pulled the trigger. The regressor reacted with the Heaven-Reversing Boundary and blocked the bullet, but Historia used that opening to yank the chain and charge in.

Bang, bang. Two suppressing shots.

With the regressor's movements restricted, the bladed pistol dropped toward her head. The regressor swung Jizan up to meet it.

Clang.

The General's Weapon collided with Jizan. Historia frowned at the heavy impact.

‘A black, heavy sword. Hmm. Should I think of it as the opposite of an invisible sword? I don't need to meet it head-on...’

Her decision came quickly. Historia smoothly twisted her wrist. She released the grip and held it only with her fingers, making the bladed pistol spin while caught against Jizan. It suddenly shook Jizan loose and pointed its muzzle at the regressor.

"Tch!"

Jizan was too heavy to react quickly. The regressor swung Skywarbler instead.

Just before the shot exploded, she struck the muzzle and knocked it aside. The thunderous report grazed past them, leaving both their ears ringing.

That was too minor an injury to stop the fight. The regressor and Historia clashed again.

A brief struggle of strength.

Skywarbler was longer than the short bladed pistol. Just as the regressor knocked the pistol aside and tried to slash deeply across the Gunslinger's face, a combat boot swept low through the bottom of her vision.

Thump.

The kick struck her thigh, throwing her off balance. The regressor let out a groan.

"Damn it...!"

Distract the opponent for an instant. Rattle their eyes and ears with the muzzle and gunfire. Then follow with a low attack while their posture was unstable.

It was enough to make the victim grind their teeth.

Historia, on the other hand, merely muttered calmly.

"Sorry. My legs are a little long."

"Want me to shorten them for you?!"

As Skywarbler flashed down like lightning, the chain clattered as it slipped between them. Furious, the regressor put strength into her swing, intending to cut through the chain as well.

Skywarbler's blade struck precisely between two links.

"Whew. Took the bait."

Historia whistled at the same time.

Clatterrrrr.

The chain suddenly went slack and softly wrapped around Skywarbler. At the same time, Historia traced a small circle with her toe, lightly wound the chain around it, then sent it flying.

To the regressor, dozens of chains seemed to crash in from every direction.

‘The Heaven-Reversing Boundary isn't reacting...! Does that mean this is an attack beyond anything I accounted for across every loop?! How does she come up with something this absurd every single time?!’

Still, the Heaven-Reversing Boundary had defensive formulas that responded to attacks beyond her expectations. The regressor shouted urgently.

"Skywarbler!"

She released the compressed space within Skywarbler. Space swelled like a bubble, widening the distance between the Gunslinger and the regressor.

Distance was the safest shield in the world. No matter how much an opponent attacked, it was meaningless if they could not reach you. If recoilless Jizan was the strongest shield, able to block anything, then Skywarbler was the finest shield, one that nullified the attack itself.

But it did not work against a Gunslinger.

Ballistic Mirror, Zeroing.

Bang.

A bullet guaranteed to hit its target tore through space.

"Oh?"

The hem of her coat ripped along the bullet's path, and blood leaking through the tear scattered on the wind.

The bullet grazed the regressor's right arm. Calling it a graze was generous, since a chunk of flesh had been torn away and blood streamed from the wound. Still, it was a pitiful result for an aura shot that had reached the proper principle.

"Good weapon, good clothes, good reflexes. If even one of those had been missing, you would've lost a limb...."

Gunsmoke mingled with aura. Historia blew across the muzzle, and the scattered smoke drifted behind her on the wind.

"Of course, the biggest reason is that I fired in a hurry, so my gun was weaker than usual. Still, you're tough. Unlike how you look."

Ignoring the burning gash in her right arm, the regressor gritted her teeth.

"You're a pain...!"

"You really don't hold back when talking to your big sister."

Historia pulled on the chain with her toe and spun the bladed pistols. The regressor gradually treated her wound with bloodcraft as she raised Skywarbler.

‘A gun is still just a gun, no matter how strong it is. It's troublesome, but that's all! I just need to figure out how to deal with it...!’

Even without the guns, Historia was simply strong.

She was young. Her stamina was full. Her movements were like acrobatics, and she had considerable strength. Above all, she made the fullest use of her circumstances and weapons with an innate sense for combat.

She used the wavering muzzle for psychological warfare, responding precisely at both range and close quarters. If the regressor paid attention to that, flashing blades came sweeping in. If she swung her weapon to block them, she lost her means of dealing with the bullets that followed. If she tried to control the distance, Historia stuck to her with martial arts up close and chains at mid-range.

‘Should I awaken the Eyes of Fate? But opponents with this kind of instinct are difficult to handle.... Tch, I really can't make sense of it. Who would've thought this woman, closer to the military state than anyone, would become such an important figure in the New Kingdom...!’

The regressor had confidence in her own stamina, but even if they kept fighting like this, it was impossible to say who would win.

She was not uneasy, though.

The longer the battle continued, the more favorable it became for her.

"Urgh...!"

It took only one blow.

A general flew through the air.

The general had barely endured the strike against his weapon, then drove his bayonet into the ground as he began to slide away. At that moment, his body was sucked toward the white girl.

Not a thread of clothing or strand of hair stirred despite the fierce wind. Tyr walked as though time had stopped for her alone, her black parasol tilted toward the sun, then held out her hand.

"Controlling my strength is difficult, so survive on your own."

The darkness spread throughout the area flowed toward its master. The general, unable to escape the current in time, flailed his arms.

It was meaningless resistance.

In a movement that could almost be called leisurely, Tyr opened her palm and shoved the general away.

It looked like an aristocratic lady brushing aside an annoyance, but the man struck by it did not see it that way. He felt as though gravity had abruptly reversed direction and slammed him into the ground.

His waist folded, and his body rose into the air. His crumpled form rolled across the flowing ground.

A general who had seemed like the sky itself to the soldiers was sent flying without putting up any meaningful resistance.

An officer gathering the troops went pale and shouted.

"Impossible to stop! Impossible to stop!!"

It was a pitiful cry, an urgent report, and the simplest possible description of the situation.

Tyr advanced, driving them back one by one so that no one could remain behind her.

"Major General! We need to call for support! We can't... stop her!"

Historia herself was tied down by a single opponent and could not answer. She gave a hollow laugh.

"...I'll admit your defense is impressive. I can't break through you easily."

The regressor answered between ragged breaths.

"You're awfully confident!"

"Cutie, sorry. I don't have time to take it easy."

Historia pointed her muzzle into the air and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

A brilliant light bloomed in the sky.

It was a signal flare.

After putting away her weapons, Historia muttered regretfully.

"I wanted to buy time until the main force arrived if possible.... Can't be helped. I'll have to call them."

"They're far away. Do you think they'll get here just because you fired a flare?"

"Of course they can. How do you think I got ahead of you? No, should I first ask whether you think I came here alone?"

She was right.

The military state even proudly included tactical retreats in its operational manuals. It might avoid an engagement, but once it chose to fight, there was no chance it would use a half-baked method.

Securing a tactical advantage before picking a fight was the military state's way.

That raised a question.

What did the military state consider an advantage in strength?

‘Even the military state would have difficulty facing Tyrkanzyaka without a high-ranking mage or priest.... There can't be priests in the military state. Unless...?’

The regressor turned her gaze, a sense of dread rising as though she had realized something.

Then she heard a voice.

"Initiating magic."

A strong voice calling upon magical power rolled low across the Meta-Conveyor Belt. The regressor's expression turned urgent as she guessed its owner.

‘No! This must be...!’

"Well? Do you still think time is on your side?"

This time, Historia rushed in.

The regressor could not respond and had no choice but to continue fighting.

While they did, the magic began.

"Set."

How did a person reach a mountaintop?

"Ready."

They could run up with all their strength, or leap up and stand there in one bound. Someone might climb a cliff, while another could fly into the sky and land there lightly.

Or they might be born at the summit from the start, never knowing the lower world even existed.

The most ordinary method, though, was to climb one step at a time.

Stubbornly, diligently.

People called those who overcame paths no one had found in extraordinary ways, then showed the way to those who followed, pioneers. People admired and praised them.

They laughed at those who walked one step at a time toward a distant summit, calling them fools. There was nothing admirable or moving about climbing each stair with a method anyone could use.

A fool drew only ridicule.

『This is Piu, military-state signalman assigned to the Meta-Conveyor Belt. A warning to all military-state personnel.』

Between the continuing incantations, a golem shouted at the top of its voice.

『General Prelvior's magic will be cast shortly. All personnel are to take every possible measure for their own defense.』

It was stupid and inefficient. Life was short, the road was endless, and even their limits were clear. They would fall before reaching the middle of the mountain, let alone the summit.

Yet.

Even the great nature people admired was formed when specks of dust gathered into mountains. Water droplets that wore through rock over stubborn ages inspired awe, and people were moved by rivers carved by flowing water.

Even if it was a foolish act, once it piled up and piled up, it could move mountains.

She gathered magical power, then gathered more. While others created worlds, she used only magic anyone could use. She used only standard magic, steadily laying a foundation. She always ate whatever was said to be good for magical power and trained, increasing both her mana capacity and affinity.

Days, weeks, months, years, decades....

After repeated training and research, she became one of the Six Generals.

She still could not use high-order magic. She did not have that talent.

Yet the War Mage's magic had developed so much in sheer quantity that no one could compare to her.

『Otherwise, you will die.』

Before the signalman's warning had even ended, the soldiers had already hidden in their positions, wrapping themselves in layers of waterproof and fireproof tarps as they crouched down.

The preparations were complete.

"Check."

Innate magecraft, Magic of Scale.

Magical power vast enough to cover the world converged upon a single point in an instant.

A low voice followed. It was the powerful incantation only a great person who had stubbornly pursued a single path, someone who had truly achieved greatness, could utter.

"Fahrenheit, Millionaire."

The sun came down.

Footnotes:

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried