WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 265: Faceless Human

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Historia and Zikhrund threw punches at each other.

A control panel struck by a missed straight flew into the air, and a chair kicked away spun toward Historia's head. Historia took it on her energy-clad forehead, then hid her fist beneath the chair's shadow and drove it forward.

Zikhrund caught her arm smoothly, his limbs moving in strange, fluid motions. But the revolver in Historia's hand was already aimed at him, its barrel cold and steady. Too late, Zikhrund realized that what Historia had truly concealed was not her fist, but her handgun. Energy on the verge of exploding trembled violently.

Bang.

Blue energy burst from the muzzle with a thunderous roar. At almost the same moment, Zikhrund desperately bent backward.

By a hair. The energy-infused bullet grazed Zikhrund by the narrowest margin. Spattered blood traced its path. The ricocheting bullet smashed through the wall, leaving a thin, sliced wound across Zikhrund's skin.

But it lasted only a moment. Zikhrund's wound healed in an instant, and Historia faltered.

"Regeneration...?"

You could call it regeneration, but it was somewhat different from the regenerative powers of immortal races or vampires. He had used energy control at its highest level to hold his blood in place and forcibly stitch his skin tissue together, creating a new face.

That was still horrifying, of course. It meant he could forcibly sew his own body back together and keep fighting.

"That's an impressive ability."

Wow. The Six Generals really were something... I might have been able to buy time against an ordinary general, but a member of the Six Generals was simply beyond me. Without Historia, I would've been carved up in a single breath.

Lost in admiration, I readily acknowledged his strength.

"For something a fake life accomplished, anyway!"

"Hui! Shut your mouth!"

Historia screamed as his attacks grew even fiercer, but people who exploded at the slightest poke were fun to tease. Besides, my words were more effective than her attacks right now.

Zikhrund slipped past Historia again and aimed for me. Changing positions meant nothing in a one-on-one fight. But with me behind her, Historia had to stop him by any means necessary.

Fortunately, she had a way this time.

Densely compressed energy exploded. The gunshot tore through the world, but Zikhrund was not torn apart this time. Expecting the shot, he nimbly dodged the instant it was fired.

The shot missed, but Historia used the opening to catch up to him again.

‘He's trying to make me use up my bullets. Two shots already. Only one remains... If I had just one more...!’

Even while raging and targeting me, he remained calm. That was Zikhrund of the Six Generals, the Spirit Track.

He could stay levelheaded even while his sense of self was threatened. All members of the Six Generals were like that, but he was frighteningly dangerous and strong. If Historia had been targeting me... I would've been shot and died screaming. Thank goodness she was on my side.

I couldn't leave it at that. Historia was protecting me, but I still had to struggle desperately to survive. This was not a place where I could survive just by being carried on someone's back.

The only thing weak, ordinary me could do here was launch a mental attack.

"Is Zikhrund's life really that appealing? Appealing enough to stake your life on protecting it? It can't be. Your life as Zikhrund is only an extension of what you used to do. Stealing someone else's face, hiding within someone else's life, exposing their wrongdoing, and judging them. A life built on becoming someone else, isn't it?"

Every word I spoke made Zikhrund's attacks more violent. Historia, blocking him with everything she had, was probably cursing me inwardly. Now every exchanged punch sounded like artillery fire.

It seemed people really did get angrier when someone held them back. He couldn't vent his anger directly on me, so it just kept building.

"Come on, Zikhrund! I read your wish. In practical terms, I'm the only human who can grant it! Because that wish alone is what makes you who you are!"

"Cut the bullshit!"

Zikhrund lashed out hard at Historia, then threw a sharp object from inside his clothes at me when I was exposed. It was a clothing packet sharpened like a dagger. The material was alchemic fabric, but it had been compressed, infused with energy, and thrown with terrifying force.

Hmph. Since I could read thoughts, I could already see its path clearly... Ah, wait. It was a little too fast to dodge.

Bang.

At that critical moment, Historia shot the clothing packet out of the air. Her accuracy was astonishing even without Zeroing Shot. With this kind of skill, did she really need that principle thing? She could just hit the target, so was there any need to guarantee a hit with Zeroing Shot? What a waste of a principle.

‘That was the last bullet...! What do I do? I have no more moves left...!’

Ah, come to think of it, the regressor had thought Historia would awaken another ability in the future. A different principle from Zeroing Shot, Gun-Sword Total Intent. It looked incredibly strong, so why wouldn't she awaken it right now?

I was getting seriously endangered here. Awaken it to get us out of this mess. Let me ride along comfortably.

Historia had no bullets left. There was no room to improvise more through combat alchemy when her opponent was this strong. She was clearly being pushed into a corner.

Yet even though he held an overwhelming advantage, Zikhrund fought defensively. Historia quickly realized why.

‘He knows my ability. Zeroing Shot, the technique that guarantees a hit with one bullet after firing three. He doesn't know I only had three bullets. To him, this is the fourth bullet. He believes I have a bullet that has reached the principle...!’

Having reached her conclusion, Historia spun the cylinder. She knew it held no bullets, but her opponent believed otherwise.

Instinctively sensing her advantage, Historia rushed in more aggressively than before. She aimed the muzzle at him but did not fire. Keeping the gun brimming with energy, she held it where she could shoot him at any moment and fought with her hands and feet.

Good. An opportunity. I also gave Historia advice from behind as though she still had bullets left.

"Ria! He can't dodge your next bullet. So he'll try to take the safest hit possible! Even if you hit his limbs, he'll regenerate right away. Aim for a vital point that can finish him in one shot!"

"I'm aiming for one without you telling me!"

‘I'm only aiming. I can't fire!’

We were working together perfectly. As expected, people who had been fooled were better at deceiving others.

Whenever the muzzle aimed for his head, Zikhrund moved closer and shifted his body quickly. Trying to force close combat and take the gun away was pointless. To wrest the revolver from Historia's tight, energy-infused grip, he would need to use far greater energy himself. Instead of wasting strength on something useless, he knocked aside her elbows and upper arms, slipping out of her line of fire.

And Historia, despite having no bullets, kept fighting as though she were trying to place him in her line of fire.

In other words, Zikhrund was fighting an imaginary bullet.

"The scariest bullet in the world is one that hasn't been fired yet. You don't know when or how it will be fired."

If he moved away to attack me, his entire body would enter her line of fire. Because of a bullet that did not exist, Zikhrund had instead become bound to Historia.

Whew. Giving her only three bullets had been the right call. The revolver just happened to hold six.

The two continued their exchange for quite a while. Zikhrund held a slight advantage in close combat alone, but Historia used the gun as a weapon to keep fighting evenly. No, she had a far greater advantage.

A lull, right? Time to continue the operation.

"A bullet called Zikhrund is the same. You've already been used up. Everyone already knows you transform through identity mimicry, and once something is known, it can no longer be a weapon. Your usefulness ends here! You can't remain Zikhrund any longer!"

"You... As long as you're gone...!"

"Haha. I have no intention of disappearing! So, since we have this opportunity, I'll decide your next life for you. A name, face, and identity that can make you your real self, exactly as you wished for! How about it? Appealing, isn't it?"

"I don't need it! I can decide that myself!"

"Go ahead! I'll judge it for you!"

Even while fighting Historia, Zikhrund's face changed on its own. His blank-paper face shifted this way and that. Looking at it over Historia's shoulder, I snorted.

"That's Tyr's face. I understand being excited to find a good model, but can you handle it? You'd be blaspheming against both vampires and the Sanctum at once."

The moment I finished speaking, his face changed again. So he was listening even now. I continued my cool assessment.

"Siati? Your right arm is intact, so you look much better. Still, could you leave my friend's face out of this? It makes relationships complicated and awkward."

The next face was the princess's. Seeing the princess's innocent face fighting Historia evenly made me laugh in disbelief.

"If you were the real princess, Historia couldn't even attack you in the first place, you know?"

The face after that was... a rather gallant version of the regressor. I giggled mockingly.

"Ahahaha. That's way too manly, isn't it? Sorry, but Mr. Shei isn't that manly. She's someone who acts in the most feminine ways!"

Only women could cross-dress as men, after all. In a way, perhaps it wasn't bad because she wasn't a real person?

The next face... was mine.

Historia's hands and feet stopped for a moment from the shock, letting him land two attacks cleanly. The impact did not seem too great, and Historia quickly recovered her stance.

"It's oddly satisfying to see something wearing my face push Ria back. Is this vicarious satisfaction?"

Historia suddenly slapped my cheek, no, the cheek of the person wearing my face. The heavy impact startled me so badly that I rubbed my own right cheek. Good grief, my heart. I thought I'd been hit.

Then the next face appeared...

A pale, gloomy woman's face, with her mouth hanging open like an idiot.

Right. It was you. Found you.

The one who created the military state.

Good. That confirmed it.

"Not bad, but I'd recommend a slightly different direction."

When he was very young, he was born as the child of a courtesan. A courtesan's child, whose father was difficult to identify, also grew up to become a courtesan. The more skills they mastered, the better treatment they received. At his mother's insistence, he learned every kind of art.

The pleasure house had many talented people, and he learned all sorts of minor skills there. Gifted as he was, he absorbed every skill like a sponge soaking up water. Just as he began to stand out, a visiting theater troupe wanted to take him away.

No pleasure house would sell a talent who would support its future earnings, but theater was in fashion throughout the Empire at the time. The prestige of each vassal state rose and fell with the quality of its plays, so theater troupes naturally held great influence. A mere pleasure house operating with the state's tacit approval could not possibly resist.

The only problem was his own will. His attachment to the pleasure house where he had spent his childhood.

But one statement from the theater troupe changed him.

At the pleasure house, you can only become a courtesan. On the stage, you can become anything.

At that time, he abandoned his original status and became an actor. He took a new name as his stage name and began his second life.

He must have been filled with a different kind of hope back then.

But it didn't end well.

"Come on. Change as I tell you to. It would be better for me to decide than for someone like you, who can do too many things to choose."

Footnotes:

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