WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Inept Mage’s Infinite Regression

Chapter 66

“If this keeps up, the troops and battle mages in the fortress will be surrounded. Especially the assault team that went to attack the command post—if they get ambushed from behind, we’re in big trouble.” To Wica, Admoel said, “Take your guard unit and go help the assault team.”

“Understood. What about you, Admoel?”

“I’ll stick with these folks and put an end to that grand magic. We can’t just leave it running; as long as the ‘Requiem’ continues, those walking corpses will have to be turned to ash lest they rise again. But even if we gather all our battle mages, there’s no way to burn them all.”

“With so few people left here—there can’t be more than a dozen—whoever’s guarding that grand magic is sure to be…”

“Don’t worry. We’ll manage.”

“Got it.”

Concerned, Ethan tried to intervene, saying “But corpses are swarming behind us too…”

Wica glanced briefly at Ethan but didn’t answer, instead turning back the way she’d come with her guard unit.

As they neared the walking corpses, Wica shouted, “Dismount! Form a line!”

All at once, the guards dismounted and formed ranks. They looked more like line infantry than battle mages, they were so orderly.

“Aim!”

They each tucked what looked like a small iron-pot cannon, fixed to a long rod, beneath one arm. In their free hands, they conjured a small flame with minor magic.

“Fire!”

BANG!

With a thunderous report, walnut-sized cannonballs shot forth.

Ethan watched the use of these hand cannons with interest.

‘They’re as loud as a Glock 45, but they produce thick black smoke, and the cannons look much bigger and heavier. Plus, they need an external flame, take a long time to reload, and require both hands. Still, it’s enough to kill a human… but the enemy isn’t human.’

Several corpses were knocked down, and the guards mounted up again and trampled them underhoof. Even then, the corpses still twitched. Riding at the rear of the formation, Wica fished a glass bottle from her saddlebags and hurled it over the walking corpses. The bottle shattered, drenching them in its contents, and Wica fired her hand cannon, igniting the liquid into flame and burning the corpses.

As Admoel flipped through a book from his pack, he said to Laken, “Handle the ones up ahead for me. I need time to prepare a spell before we arrive.”

“Got it. Let’s move, everyone!”

As Laken spurred her horse forward, Ethan mumbled under his breath, “What are they, some gang of hoodlums?”

Yet having someone take the lead seemed to give the rest of the battle mages comfort; they eagerly fell in line under Laken’s direction.

Laken dismounted at the front and unleashed her fire dragon’s breath, incinerating the corpses in front. Any that emerged from the flames, Ethan and Boen took care of. The rear line of around a hundred walking corpses was bombarded with fire by the other battle mages.

When people thought of battle mages, many imagined fire mages first. Flame spells were widely used in combat, and indeed, that was how they were developed—around 1,600 years ago, when the Undying Church was rampant and there were many skeletal and corpse-like beings to fight.

In those days, when the boundary between life and death was less defined, remnants of ancient magic still lingered. Many so-called “immortals,” categorized as ancient mages, roamed the land. Such beings weren’t truly dead until completely destroyed. However, after the great family of Angarsen led the push for fire-magic research, people finally had an effective way to handle walking corpses and skeletal undead. Thus ended that era of death and the shadows of antiquity. Modern battle mages were the spiritual successors of those ancient fire mages.

Led by Laken, the support team hacked their way to the Undying Church’s temple. Waiting at the entrance, however, was a person.

He was a gaunt man wearing a human skull on his head. His white hair hung down to his waist, and over a plain robe, he wore a white stole covered in black ancient script. A staff as tall as he was had a child’s upper-body skeleton bound to it by rope, its hands folded in a posture of prayer.

“Might be wise to stop here,” Admoel said.

“He’s wide open—so arrogant,” Laken said. “Let’s show him he’s out of his league.”

“But that’s definitely a Eurogia… This is no joke.”

Snapping the reins, Laken charged ahead anyway. Ethan locked eyes with Admoel. There was no time to speak; Admoel simply gave him a nod, and Ethan followed in Laken’s wake.

The man wearing the skull watched Laken approach and muttered, “So there’s one who lacks courtesy.”

With a sweep of his staff, the building to Laken’s right collapsed. A silhouette of a giant white hand lunged out and swatted at Laken.

“Laken!”

Digging his heels into the saddle, Ethan leapt forward, grabbing Laken and rolling across the ground away from the blow. Laken’s horse took the brunt of it, blood spraying as it was hurled past the building to the left. Dust from the collapsed structure rose in a cloud, lit clearly even in the darkness by the flames of battle.

Given Laken’s abilities, she might have caught the mage off guard under normal circumstances, but their opponent wasn’t ordinary.

Ethan slapped Laken’s cheek. “Hey! You okay?”

Laken didn’t regain consciousness right away. Though Ethan had pulled her free, she hadn’t escaped the white hand completely. With no other choice, Ethan readied his sword and glared at the skull-bearing man.

The skull-wearing man tilted his head slightly at Ethan, then eyed Admoel and the other battle mages, who had stopped a short distance away.

He focused on Admoel. “You must be the famous ‘Siege Mage,’ Admoel Bold?”

“That’s me. And you are?”

“They call me Tsurumosa Eurogia.”

“Ah, so that’s you? …I see.”

At the mention of Tsurumosa’s name, the mages all began to whisper. Tsurumosa himself wasn’t extremely famous. The Eurogia family rarely ventured outside their estate or attended social gatherings. The uneasy relationship between the Empire’s great families and its Mage Council also contributed to their reclusiveness. Few had actually seen Tsurumosa’s face.

Still, among the Eurogia family, Tsurumosa’s name was better known than most.

Great families were lineages that had survived since ancient times—typically ducal or royal lines. With such long histories, they had naturally accumulated many heirlooms. These, if shared openly, were referred to as the “Great Family’s Heritage,” bequeathed to their heirs. The Eurogia family apparently had more such legacies than most, and Tsurumosa was known less for his personal skill than for what he had inherited.

“Why so quiet?” Tsurumosa asked. “Afraid? No need. He’ll stay calm until I give the order. Come here, ‘Keropkalon.’ ”

At Tsurumosa’s call, a massive white head emerged through the dust, enormous enough to devour a human in one bite. It was unmistakably the skull of a dragon.

The ground quaked as the undead dragon’s great forepaw, which had just struck Laken, slammed down as it stepped forward. Its full form filled the entire road, broad enough for an army to march down.

Keropkalon was now nothing but bone, yet it frequently appeared in histories related to the Eurogia family. Once a black-scaled “evil dragon,” Keropkalon had been the family’s ancient nemesis. After a century-long conflict, the Eurogias finally slew it, and in their rage, resurrected it as a skeletal dragon to serve as their guardian. For over 800 years, Keropkalon had fought in battle for Eurogia. As such a major legacy of the Eurogia family, it was closely watched by the Mage Council, and it was widely known that Tsurumosa had inherited it.

Admoel sighed. “So that huge wyvern earlier was no ordinary beast.”

Keropkalon lowered its notably long, sinister neck, and Tsurumosa climbed onto the saddle strapped to its nape. Lifting its head again, Keropkalon receded partially into the darkness.

Tsurumosa guided Keropkalon’s head down a bit toward the mages and said, “I’m not really the type who enjoys fighting. To be honest, I’m not thrilled about this mission. My Keropkalon exists to protect Eurogia, not to stomp around some chaotic battlefield. So as long as you stay away from the temple, I have no intention of attacking you.”

“You’re a pacifist? Fine by me,” Admoel replied. “Let me just ask you one thing.”

“You’re stalling for time to think of something, I see. Well, it doesn’t cost me anything.”

“How did the Eurogia family get involved in this war?”

“Don’t you mean ‘why’?”

Admoel smiled wryly. “That’s a question for the Emperor, of course. For ages, his ambitions have been known to all. If I were to ask anything, it’d be ‘Why now?’ Personally, though, the question I care about is ‘How?’ ”

“Interesting question.”

“You Eurogias don’t have much to do with Ysoren, do you? Your domain is quite far. You’re certainly not claiming the Undying King is still in your family. After all, when Cascail gained infamy as the Undying King, poets and gossipers pinned blame on the Eurogias. Though that was unfair, you nonetheless declared him disowned. You’re not reversing that now, right?”

“Of course not. As you said, the Undying King is just Cascail, no longer ‘Cascail Eurogia.’ If he wants, he can be ‘Cascail Ysoren.’ Not that it matters. That’s about all I know.”

“Mm. I have some knowledge of imperial politics. I spent time as a mercenary in the Empire. I know many nobles are outraged about the Emperor’s special treatment of the two great families, Eurogia and Angarsen. Even as Emperor, he can’t simply quell all that outrage. But ignoring it is against the Emperor’s sense of aesthetics, yes? So he wants a semblance of due process. Hence… that.”

“…A semblance of propriety? Ah, I see. I get it now. Thank you for clarifying.”

“Think nothing of it,” Admoel said. “Well then, let’s get going.”

“You sure? Those sound like poor last words.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Admoel’s gaze wasn’t on Tsurumosa overhead, it was fixed on the ground beneath him. Just as Tsurumosa turned to look, Laken—fully transformed into a fire dragon—lunged up from below, her jaws clamping onto Keropkalon’s neck.

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