WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 474: A Story from Afar. The Mage of the Military State

──────

A comet fallen to earth. The greatest genius ever produced by the military state.

For all the grand epithets attached to him, Erjebeut was unimpressed.

The reason was simple. It was the first time she had heard the name Lankart.

"I've never heard that name. Is he someone famous in some region? Unfortunately, I don't bother remembering people without value."

Even if he was a historic genius born in a military state with barely thirty years of history, he was nothing compared to the countless people Erjebeut had encountered. Authority came from history. Some local representative was beneath her notice. Erjebeut, whose name appeared in history books from time to time, had no reason to remember some passing mage.

Rather than get angry at being dismissed to his face, Lankart looked dumbfounded.

"Without value? Are you talking about me?"

"Of course. Mages may believe they are special, but... you're still only one mage among many. It's laughable how highly you think of yourself."

It was arrogant, but an Elder had the right to be. Erjebeut thoroughly mocked the mage for his conceit, but Lankart tilted his head and asked,

"Even so, you're a right-hander who surrendered to the Progenitor and went along with the current, aren't you?"

A right-hander?

Erjebeut tilted her head at the unfamiliar term. As he said, she was right-handed. The hand holding her fan was her right hand. Still, the right-hander the mage meant could not possibly refer to the hand one used more often. Erjebeut asked,

"What does right-hander mean?"

"The majority. The current. The atmosphere. Or power. Think of it however you like. In the end, you're someone who follows. Whether you were born right-handed or made that way doesn't matter."

It was incomprehensible. Then again, mages were eccentrics who pursued their own inner worlds to the extreme. Erjebeut had no reason to understand such an eccentric's thoughts, nor did she need to. Deciding to kill him, she reached out with her right hand. The hand holding the Crimson Folding Fan touched the domain of his innate arcane.

At that moment, Erjebeut vaguely recalled the past.

She had once been a noblewoman of a certain country. Nobles had to properly learn etiquette and deportment. Parents with children even hired teachers to give them strict lessons in manners.

"Erjebeut. You really are perfect."

"There's nothing left to teach you."

"If only my children could follow even half your example..."

Erjebeut had been a model student among model students. Everyone praised and envied her. Among them had been left-handers.

"Child! How many times must I tell you not to use the wrong hand?"

"I should tie that hand up altogether!"

Inferior students who were unusually clumsy with the right hand they were supposed to use, unable to keep up with their lessons. Beings who had gone astray from the very beginning.

Being more skilled with the left hand did not mean one could live using it. Use the left hand at the table, and it would collide with right-handers. Reading and writing would also become difficult.

Above all, being different from others was itself a grave flaw. Rather than live that way, it was better to fix them properly before sending them out into the world.

One by one, the left-handers disappeared, and the right-handers who had been made took their places. From far ahead, Erjebeut pitied and despised those who had reached the starting line only after so much time and effort.

Erjebeut had been born right-handed. She had always been right-handed. Rather than defy the current, she climbed aboard at the front and took its benefits, proud of that fact.

"In a world you cannot understand, the world turns right."

The mage's voice reached her ears as she recalled the past.

"The universe observed by a careless sage. The sapling that grew the tree of sin. Or simply mankind, which uses its right hand. They choose a superior right and make everything turn only that way. Why? Because it is superior? No, that can't be it. Left and right differ only in direction. They are completely identical."

"You livestock..."

Blood and wind swirled within Lankart's innate arcane. Erjebeut fired blood energy, intending to devour the vortex whole. Blood energy rose from her fan, climbing against the current of his innate arcane as it tried to consume Lankart.

"Yet if they are clearly equal, why did all the left disappear while only the right remained? The reason is simple."

Whether an Elder sought his life or blood energy tried to swallow his body, Lankart continued his explanation without concern.

"Because there are more right-handers."

Erjebeut's body slammed into the windmill wall. The blood current that veered away in an arc smashed through one side of the windmill, bringing it crashing down.

Deprived of its supports, the windmill collapsed with a crack. Its gears twisted, and the enormous mechanism fell toward Lankart's head.

Even then, Lankart remained composed.

"Right-handers and left-handers collide and disappear. Over a long time, they pair off and vanish one by one until only right-handers remain. Why? Because there are more of them. It is a kind of survival of the fittest. Even nature, which appears so great, passes down only the rules that survived."

Boom, boom, boom. Even the falling debris veered away from Lankart's body. The vortex around him protected him from every attack, above and below. Lankart leisurely clenched his right hand and looked down at Erjebeut.

"My innate arcane, the Right-Handed World, destroys and eliminates every left according to that rule. The vortex is only the result. Within the Right-Handed World, I am a god. Someone like you, who goes along with the current, cannot even dare touch the hem of my clothes."

Lankart and his innate arcane were thoroughly mocking Erjebeut as a coward who followed the majority and clung to the strong. The truth cut too deeply, and her wounded pride made her spread blood energy again as she shouted,

"You're boasting over a single innate arcane! Let's see if you can still talk like that after you're soaked in blood from head to toe!"

Erjebeut snapped her folding fan shut, gripped it with both hands, and twisted it. Blood poured from the fan, twisted like a dry towel. If her power could not reach him, she intended to fill the space itself with blood energy.

Lankart clicked his tongue as he watched the blood energy steadily rise.

"Tsk. I explained it kindly because you're an Elder... You're behind the times and won't even make the effort to understand. This is why the ignorant masses are hopeless. An Elder is still one of the ignorant masses. No, you're worse. An ignorant fool who has fallen behind and cannot even die."

There were two ways to deal with a mage who had built an absolute ideology of their own: a surprise attack or overwhelming power.

Historically, mages were often killed in vain by surprise attacks. Yet Elders were among the few beings who could kill mages through overwhelming force. Aside from Valdamir and Meurie, Erjebeut, with her overflowing blood energy, was one of the Elders most capable of killing a mage.

The problem was that her opponent was no ordinary mage.

"Failed. Ignorant fool."

Lankart, who had stood still until now, took a light yet heavy step toward Erjebeut.

Lankart's innate arcane centered on him. He was the core of the vortex, the eye of the storm. The eye of the storm, which should have moved as heavily as its power and weight, headed toward Erjebeut.

How fortunate that the mage was approaching her first. Erjebeut reached for Lankart. She was also a vampire who had mastered bloodcraft. A frail mage could be crushed the instant he touched her hand.

That was, if she could touch him.

Crack. Erjebeut's arm bent in a circle. Lankart's vortex at the eye of the storm was overwhelmingly powerful.

"There's no value in speaking with losers who have fallen behind the times, so go summon your Progenitor. Since I've come all this way, I should at least see the face of the newly born Demon God."

"You bastard...!"

Every force directed at Lankart missed him. Conversely, when Lankart moved toward something, he could make that thing veer away from him. Even if that something was an Elder.

Lankart did not strike Erjebeut himself. He merely mimed grabbing and throwing her with an invisible arm.

It was absurd, but his innate arcane made the illusion real. The vortex around his arm swept across the ground.

"Giant's Right Arm."

Erjebeut and her blood energy, struck by the edge of the vortex, shot into the air as though sucked upward. It was closer to being fired than flying. The vortex's apex came to her on its own, and Erjebeut was violently hurled away without even having time to react.

Erjebeut vanished in an instant, now resembling a red cloud. Lankart watched her disappear into the distance from within the ruined windmill.

"It'll take her a while to return. Now then, shall the two of us have a conversation?"

Despite driving back an Elder by himself, Lankart turned around without much reaction.

"Where is Hui?"

Footnotes:

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