WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

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◈ Omniscient First-Person's Viewpoint

Chapter 546

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The Village Farthest from Death

The wild has no borders, no road markers. Standing in that land where nature itself grows thick and untamed, you come to understand just how different territory is from mere terrain.

Walk far enough and the smell around you changes. On the surface everything looks the same, yet a feeling creeps in like a slow drizzle soaking through cloth, a feeling that this land is not what you once knew. By the time that unease rises to your chin, the territory has already shifted.

Territory is not land. It is strength. The moment I noticed, we had already entered the immortals' domain.

Totems carved from raw wood were scattered here and there. Each one wore the face of an old man with bulging eyes and a jutting mouth, staring back with a ferocious expression as though warning off intruders. From the thick, gnarled trees hung ornaments made of animal bone.

Clear territorial markings. Rashy saw them and gave a broad nod.

"Hm! The totem poles are up, so we're nearly there! Follow me!"

He started walking, finding the path with the ease of long familiarity.

The outer edge of most territories is lined with scouts, watchtowers, traps, every measure imaginable to detect and drive off invaders. The immortal territory had none of that, only signs that people lived here. They were not hiding their presence. If anything, they seemed to be advertising it.

A little further along, a village came into view. Quite a striking architectural style, if you could call it that. Homes of some vaguely assembled form stood at rough intervals, each built with a casual approximation of spacing. Humans with sun-darkened bronze skin lounged at ease beneath shelters of woven leaves.

Roof, walls, pillars, these are the components of a house, but piling them together does not make a house. The immortals' buildings were like a demonstration of exactly how the sum of a house's parts could differ from the whole of a house.

They clearly had pillars, walls, and more pillars. Yet the immortals' houses were not houses. Everything was there, so what was missing?

Ah. That was it.

There was no intention of becoming a "house." It was like watching a sport where every player was doing their own separate thing.

"Right-Arm. You've returned."

A man with a massive frame stepped toward Rashy as he strolled along. His sun-bronzed copper skin and muscular build looked like a direct expression of the harsh wilderness around him. Short-bearded, he came striding toward Rashy with all the warmth of a reunion.

Then he kicked Rashy squarely in the shin.

Crack. Rashy's shin buckled.

Rashy had a sturdy body and energy cultivation to back it up, but a sudden kick caught him completely off guard. His body rolled twice across the ground and slammed down.

"Wha?!"

"What was that? An attack?"

Azzy barked in surprise and the regressor was scowling, but Rashy had already raised a hand to wave them off.

"Ah. Don't be startled. This is our tribe's greeting."

Hit out of nowhere, yet he looked entirely unsurprised. Rashy pushed himself calmly back to his feet. His shin, which had looked broken a moment ago, had already regenerated.

"Left-Leg. Anything happen while I was away?"

"If something happened, then something happened. If nothing did, then nothing did. The blessing of rain falling and wetting the earth is ordinary, but isn't it joyful all the same?"

"So nothing in particular. Good."

As Rashy brushed himself off and stood, Left-Leg looked at him with a suspicious expression.

"Still, you..."

"Ah, my apologies."

And then Rashy threw a punch with tremendous force.

Thwoom. Left-Leg's ribs caved in. A shockwave like a small explosion erupted, and Left-Leg went flying backward, carving a long furrow in the dirt.

Pure, unrestrained violence. Left-Leg reacted with something that looked almost like regret.

"You've weakened, Right-Arm."

Immortals do not die. Even when injured, they regenerate quickly as long as they stay in contact with the earth. Left-Leg ignored his own crushed body and worried about Rashy's fist instead.

"Your last bit of follow-through was lacking. Did that witch drink your blood or something?"

"No. Blood demons have no desire for our blood. Only, I've been spending a great deal of time around mortal humans lately. I've grown used to holding back."

"Ah. Mortal humans."

Left-Leg glanced over at me and the regressor. The two of us looked slight and thin beside these broad, muscular figures.

He looked at us with an expression full of sympathy, unbearably gentle.

"You must have it rough. Of course, the mortal humans who live in constant fear of death have it far worse."

"Mortal humans? Fear of death?"

The regressor bristled, taking it as a provocation. Rashy, who had come to understand the regressor's temperament during their time in the Abyss, waved a hand before she could respond.

"Ah. Mortal human...'piuh', refers to those who are not of the immortal race. It means friends who are mortal, those we who cannot die are duty-bound to help. Outsiders call us savages, but that's only because we cannot die. We are kind to mortal humans."

"Just as he says. Mortal humans. Don't worry, we aren't so undiscriminating as to use our strength on a piuh..."

At that moment, the regressor shifted her grip and threw a quick burst of force. In the span of a heartbeat, dozens of blows struck Left-Leg's body. Left-Leg, who had been walking toward her, went sailing away into the distance.

"Don't underestimate me. From where I stand, I'm immortal. At your level, you couldn't hurt me even if you tried."

Throwing a punch over something as simple as being looked down on. Any civilized person watching would have been appalled. But this was the Wildlands. Savage behavior was practically a virtue here.

Left-Leg had flown far off, yet he grinned and shouted back.

"Hahaha! You're a warrior!"

Bang. He came charging back in and swung a leg like a log of wood at the regressor. That leg, noticeably thicker than anyone else's-swept toward her.

At that instant the regressor drew up her energy and countered with a shin strike. A fist dwarfed by that log of a leg, slight and plain by comparison.

But the fist, wrapping currents of compressed energy around itself, carried a force far greater and fiercer than it looked.

Heavenly Mirror, energy strike.

A fist-shaped dent appeared in Left-Leg's body. The wind spiraled like a drill and tore through him. In a pure clash of strength, a complete and overwhelming victory, the strike sent Left-Leg flying once more.

"You dented my patron deity..."

She had attacked without warning and damaged his body into the bargain. But this was the immortal race's territory. No matter how badly they were hurt, immortals regenerated quickly so long as they touched the earth. They held no fear of wounds or injury, and naturally bore no particular grudge toward whoever caused them.

If anything, they welcomed it.

"Incredible! It's been a long time since a warrior like this came to visit!"

Left-Leg grabbed his crumpled left leg and wrung it out like a tube. The leg, crushed by the force of that wind strike, swelled back to its original shape like a balloon. Having restored himself with perfect, unsettling calm, Left-Leg spread his arms wide and shouted.

"A pleasure! We'll treat you not as a mortal human, but as a fellow warrior!"

"Do whatever you want. Makes no difference to me."

"These wild folk, it's more efficient to show them strength than waste words on them. This is the right call."

Whether it was sharp thinking or good instinct, the regressor's judgment turned out to be quietly accurate. The glances being thrown our way had shifted noticeably since we first walked into the village.

The immortals who had been eyeing us with apathy or pity now seemed, somehow, a little admiring. A little proud.

Either way, having acknowledged the regressor, Left-Leg turned to me with an expectant look.

"Right then! What about you?"

"No thank you. I'll just stay a mortal human."

Not doing it. I'm going to live sheltered by my status as the weaker party.

Rashy finished up the round of "greetings" and led us onward as he talked.

"Well, roughly that's how it is. Might seem a little lacking to someone from the military state, but it's not so savage, is it?"

"It isn't. They call us mortal humans, but they don't look down on us, and they're not throwing punches at people without reading the room first."

"Long, long ago, we were said to be just as violent as beasts. But when we became part of the Kingdom of Ten Thousand we learned to live alongside others. We came to understand how much fear and suffering mortal humans, those who die so easily, carry through their lives. After that, a tradition of protecting and helping mortal humans took hold among us."

The immortal village was not home to immortals alone. Here and there, people were visible whose appearance clearly set them apart from the immortals. Each one wore a large red armband identifying them as a mortal human.

I was no different. Walking with a red armband on my arm, I could feel the immortals' eyes on me. They were handling me with care, as though I were a fragile toy.

"When you've been recognized as a warrior, this sort of thing can happen. We who cannot die don't hesitate to test our strength. With the young one's power there shouldn't be any real trouble, but keep your guard up all the same. Drop your attention for a moment and you might get hit."

The regressor, who wore no armband, snorted.

"Pointless worry. I can react to an attack even in my sleep..."

"...So then why didn't I notice I was sliding off the bed when we slept together?!"

The regressor clapped both hands hard against her own cheeks. Rashy stared at her, puzzled by the sudden self-inflicted blow.

"Do mortal humans beat themselves to fix things? Well, regardless. Since you're a mortal human, you'll need to stay in the Mortal Village. It's the only inn for outsiders anyway."

Mortal Village. What a straightforward name. Well, the immortal race, being the original residents, would all have their own homes, so it made sense.

But wait. Rashy had said he wanted to marry Callis, yet there had been no sign of her.

"Where is Callis-ssi?"

At my question, Rashy's expression dimmed slightly.

"She's the same. She's mortal too, so she's in the Mortal Village."

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