WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint ◈
Chapter 123: Episode 24 — Something that Can be Changed (3)
「Shoji shivered the whole way through the forest zone.
‘Talk about lucky.’
That little kid who controlled monsters and wielded her dagger like a veteran, the scene of Maruyama and Amano going down in a heartbeat was still vivid in his mind.
‘Korea’s scary. Even a child is already that strong.’
Her power hadn’t fallen short of the first-wave entrants led by Izumi, the Hundred Demon King. If a child was that fearsome, how strong must the man now walking beside him be? A man in a snow-white coat with a white sword at his belt—nothing remarkable about him but the colour of the coat, yet he had saved Shoji’s life.
“Thank you for rescuing me. If not for you I’d have been torn apart by those beasts.”
“It was nothing.”
“I’m honestly moved. I never thought I’d get help from a Korean.”
“We all have to help one another.”
The man in white was modest—and, better yet, spoke excellent Japanese. It had to be a skill, but holding a Japanese-Language Interpretation skill at all meant goodwill toward Japan.
“Come to think of it, we haven’t exchanged names. I’m Michio Shoji.”
“I’m Dokja. Kim Dokja.”
“Kimu… Dogeza[1]?”
“…Kim Dokja.”
“Ohh.”
Kimu Dogeza? Do they really give people that sort of name in Korea?
“By the way, did you see that child? The one who killed Maruyama and Amano.”
“Sadly, when I arrived you were the only one still breathing.”
“…I see.”
“You must be grieving for your friends.”
“Grieving? No. Those bast—”
Shoji shut his mouth before he finished, ‘bastards deserved to die.’ He hadn’t dared stand up to them. Shameful, when even a child had fought.
[The constellation Two-Tailed Fox cannot hide its wrath!]
[The constellation 1,800-Year-Old Turtle glares at the one who slew its incarnation!]
The constellations who had lost their incarnations were furious. Dokja, also looking up at the void, asked,
“Japan seems to be contracting mostly with yokai-type constellations?”
“Not always, but they’ve grown numerous lately.”
Shoji bit his lip. Only recently had yokai constellations grown this unruly—that is, since Izumi left Tokyo.
“If Izumi-san were here, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Izumi…?”
“The man who claimed the ‘Absolute Throne’ in Tokyo Dome. He’s Japan’s strongest incarnation, holder of a mighty patron, and leader of our first-wave team.”
“What happened to him?”
Shoji hesitated. Was it wise to tell a Korean entrant such a sensitive story? He raised his head and studied Kim Dokja—eyes as deep as Izumi’s. Perhaps he could be trusted.
“You saved me, so you must have witnessed ‘Miniaturisation’ as well.”
“If you mean people shrinking, yes, I saw it.”
Anyone who attacked a fellow human in this world became one of the little people. That penalty had stopped Shoji from confronting Maruyama and Amano. He drew a breath and went on.
“The later Japanese entrants already knew about that penalty.”
“Someone among the earlier wave must have sided with the little people.”
“That’s right.”
The second wave had learned because the first wave had sent information through dimensional carrier birds.
“Was it Izumi?”
“I don’t know.”
The birds had stopped a week ago. The last two messages read:
— Do not kill the little people.
— Kill the little people.
Kim Dokja said, “Exactly opposite orders.”
“Right.”
“Why did two different messages arrive?”
“No idea. I came to find out.”
Shoji brushed aside a branch.
“First I’m going to the spot where the last bird was sent. Maybe we’ll find something there.”
He paused, suddenly uneasy. No matter how kind Dokja seemed, telling so much to a foreigner might be foolish. That man might be a Korean villain Shoji knew nothing about.
“…Kim-san, what do you think? Should we kill the little people if that’s the only way to survive?”
“Well… if we did, we’d be no different from the other Catastrophes attacking Earth.”
“I thought so too.” Shoji nodded in faint relief.」
— Ahjussi.
Shin Yuseong’s voice snapped my focus. I’d been running Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, Level 2, at full capacity and couldn’t answer right away.
[The exclusive skill Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Level 2 has ended.]
[Your understanding of Michio Shoji has risen sharply.]
Practising immersion like this was the easiest way to raise understanding. My consciousness had been clear, so concentration wasn’t perfect, yet reading Shoji’s thoughts hadn’t been hard.
— Ahjussi?
— Sorry, I was refining a skill.
Shrunk small, Yuseong was riding in my pocket, speaking over our direct link.
— …I’m a little shocked.
I knew what had shocked her without asking.
“So, Kim-san…”
In TWSA, Shoji appears only as a passing minor character. The story dips into his view for a few paragraphs, then moves on, enough to summarise a very ordinary life.
— It’s hard to believe someone that ordinary has survived this long.
Though the language was foreign, she’d caught the gist. Anyone would, listening to Shoji babble so excitedly.
“So, at university…”
Now entirely at ease, Shoji was rambling about everything. He’d been a college student before the scenarios, he’d read lots of manga so this situation wasn’t too hard to accept…
— You’ve seen it in Korea too, an ordinary person kills those beside him and lives on.
— That was the scenario’s fault.
— Could you say the same to the little people who just died?
— …
— No one still alive is ordinary. That young man who looks normal to us could be a Catastrophe to someone else.
I watched Michio Shoji, happily talking about himself. He hadn’t killed any little people… yet.
— If I’d stopped those men sooner, wouldn’t they have avoided becoming Catastrophes?
— Whether you stopped them or not, the result would be the same. Every human is someone else’s Catastrophe.
— So I become a Catastrophe in future too?
— I’ll see to it you don’t.
Something buzzed at my ear, gnats circling nearby. Shoji muttered in wonder, “Even here the insects are regular size. Must be Catastrophes to the little people.”
“Indeed.”
Impossible. In a world where everything was small, only the insects stayed full-sized?
— Yuseong, can you understand what they’re saying?
Yuseong and Gilyeong tamed different species, but both could read other tongues through Interspecies Communication. That was why I’d put them in separate teams.
— “Hyung… we met… group 2…” something like that.
— Good. Then you can pass on what I say too?
She nodded slightly. The gnats flitted away across the forest.
Watching them leave, Shoji asked, “Kim-san, are you listening?”
“I am. You were talking about ‘isekai stories’.”
The topic had slid from college life to his favourite manga. Talking manga in a life-or-death world—proof no survivor is normal.
“I’ve heard that genre was huge in Japan. I read a few myself.”
“Oh, a fellow connoisseur!”
Before destruction Japan’s culture scene had been much like Korea’s. Korean protagonists kept looping back in time, Japanese protagonists kept being reborn in other worlds. Which was worse? Probably Japan. Its youth must have believed even going back held no hope.
Shoji beamed. “My favourite is reincarnation stories—modern knowledge unleashed in a fantasy world…”
“Maybe our situation is someone’s reincarnation story too. And someone out there might be this world’s protagonist.”
I, of course, knew exactly who that damned protagonist was. Then Shoji said something strange.
“Interesting you say that. Someone I know used to say the same.”
“Another manga fan?”
“Actually a manga artist. One of our first-wave entrants, named Asuka Ren…”
My heart skipped. Asuka Ren.
“She said perhaps this world itself is inside someone’s comic.”
“Where is she now—”
Before I could finish, Shoji halted, face tense.
“Kim-san, I think we’ve found it.”
“Sorry?”
“The first-wave marker.”
The trees up ahead had changed: each trunk bore a spiral mark like an at-sign.
“Somewhere around here Izumi’s party was hiding.”
We moved with held breath. The atmosphere was different—an artificial stillness, as though every living sound had been dried out.
At the forest’s centre lay a small clearing—apparently the Japanese first wave’s base. Yet something was wrong.
[You have entered the Demon’s Formation.]
[Within the formation your overall stats decrease.]
“What…!”
Demon’s Formation was a unique stigma Japanese Constellations could deploy. Izumi possessed it too. It was the art that put the Hundred Demon King, Izumi Hiroki, among TWSA’s hundred strongest.
“Izumi-san! Are you here?”
Had this been Izumi’s Hundred Demon Formation, even standing would be agony. Therefore its caster wasn’t Izumi. In real time I recalled the novel:
「Other than Izumi, very few Japanese incarnations can wield Demon’s Formation.」
No doubt, the ‘Serpent Incarnation’ I sought was nearby.
The brush rippled and a dozen night walkers emerged, yokai aura spreading like soot. No ordinary humans—survivors who had chosen to become inhuman hybrids. Beneath their masks I glimpsed fur and reptile scales. If Korea’s catastrophe had modelled world Chronos, Japan’s must have birthed the Hundred Demon World. Like Song Minwoo the werewolf, they had taken catastrophe power and become yokai-men themselves. Surprising, with Izumi around, such half-demons could never have become mainstream.
“You brought a Chōsenjin [1].”
One hybrid stepped forward. Shoji hurried to shield me.
“Wait, he’s no enemy. He saved me.”
“A third-wave entrant? Which group?”
“I’m under Izumi-san.”
“Izumi?”
The hybrids snickered as though hearing a joke.
“That group is gone.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me Izumi-san—”
“You really know nothing.”
“Please, what happened to him?”
Beep—light shone from the glasses of a hybrid at the back.
“Name: Michio Shoji. Average stats below par. No patron. Worthless.”
The spokesman nodded.
“You’ve no right to hear about Izumi. We’ll spare your life, now leave.”
“What about me?”
I stepped forward. The hybrids grinned in surprise. And then—
[Someone has used a Combat Power Scanner on you!]
[The exclusive skill Fourth Wall has been activated!]
[Combat Power Scanner has been disabled by the Fourth Wall!]
Pop.
The scanner exploded. The hybrids stared, shocked; even Shoji gasped, “Just like in manga!” I drew my sword quietly.
“Where is your leader, the ‘Serpent’?”
Footnotes:
[1] Chōsenjin is a derogatory term in Japan used for Korean immigrants.
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