WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Natty
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◈ The Regressor and the Blind Saintess ◈
Chapter 149: Balak - 2
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Balak opened their eyes, their entire body throbbing with pain.
The first thing they saw was a very familiar ceiling, the roof of their own tent.
Then, as their eyes rolled about, they saw the black-haired human they had fought moments ago, along with several other unremarkable-looking humans.
Balak sprang to his feet.
As their enormous frame moved, the tent swayed.
Tension filled the group at the sight, but Balak threw back their head and shouted with laughter.
“Strong one! That was fun! Let’s do it again!”
His voice boomed through the entire tent.
Vera frowned, while Rene and Aisha clamped their hands over their ears.
Balak blinked. Rather than answering, they stared in puzzlement at the tiny humans trembling before them, then spoke to Vera again.
“Eh?! Let’s do it again! That was so fun!”
“...Calm down.”
As Vera answered, he placed a hand on Balak’s shoulder as the orc tried to rise, then forced them back down.
Thud!
Balak, who had been half-standing, slammed back down.
They had fallen hard enough to make one wonder whether their knees had shattered. Even so, a broad smile remained on their face.
“Ah! A contest of strength! Good!”
Balak placed a hand the size of a pot lid on Vera’s shoulder and pushed down.
“...Tch.”
Vera did not move an inch. No matter the difference in size between an orc and a human, it meant nothing to Vera, who had reached superhuman heights.
Besides, Balak was injured at the moment.
Vera put more strength into his hand and pressed down on Balak’s shoulder bone so they could not run wild.
‘It’s fine if I break it a little.’
Calming him down came first.
The maniac thought of fighting the instant they opened their eyes. It would be faster to break something, keep them lying down, and explain things slowly. Rene could heal them afterward.
Having made up his mind, Vera rose to his feet. Then, with a chilling crack, Balak’s body collapsed.
* * *
Balak laughed heartily and nodded, their body twisted this way and that until they could not move.
“A ritual! Proof of battle aura! Good! I, Balak, permit it!”
It was permission so readily given that disbelief plainly showed on the group’s faces.
And only Vera had expected such a response.
Balak was an impatient orc who picked fights the moment they met someone, so Vera had correctly judged that no matter how much they explained, they would not listen.
In the meantime, Miller stepped forward.
Perhaps disappointed that he could no longer explain the many negotiation plans and detailed terms he had prepared, he asked in a dejected voice.
“Your Majesty?”
“I am not a human king! Call me Balak!”
“Ah... right, then, Mr. Balak?”
“Speak!”
“I would like to ask about the exact nature of the ritual and how we enter. The Cradle of the Dead is not somewhere one can simply visit whenever they want, is it?”
It was a natural question for Miller to ask. He was someone who studied spellcraft and history, and this might be the moment he discovered a way to enter the Cradle of the Dead, which had been forbidden until now.
A small hope rose in his chest. However, Balak’s answer shattered it completely.
“You just go! If you prove your battle aura, you can come back out!”
“...Pardon?”
“The Cradle respects warriors! If we become warriors, we go to the Paradise of Struggle! The King of the Dead cannot take us away!”
Words that made no sense, and logic that was no logic at all.
Miller felt a strange sense of familiarity and turned his gaze toward Marek of the twins.
‘This feels somehow...’
Was this not the same sort of reasoning? This ridiculous logic that only looked like a syllogism. Was that not exactly what this man did?
As Miller narrowed his eyes and glared at Marek, Marek said with a blank expression.
“Professor, staring at me like that is troubling. Marek does not like males.”
“This bastard...?”
“Both of you, please calm down...”
As the two looked ready to start fighting, Norn stepped in to stop them, feeling his stomach ache once more.
Balak watched the two small humans begin talking about something else, then turned back to Vera and shouted.
“Strong one! We go tomorrow! Prove your battle aura!”
“...Tomorrow?”
“A fighter does not run away! A fighter does not put off what must be done!”
Crack, crack.
Balak forcibly raised their twisted body, puffed out their chest, and shouted.
It was louder than anything they had said before, loud enough to echo through the entire village.
“Tomorrow is the ritual! Today, we celebrate!”
Vera’s expression vanished.
‘Is he an idiot?’
The thought would not leave his mind.
* * *
Balak’s village was home to a little over twenty orcs. As the group watched the orcs preparing for the festival in one corner, they spoke among themselves.
As usual, it was Miller who did most of the talking.
“Things are moving rather quickly, but it’s not bad. There’s nothing to gain from staying here long. Also, I gave it some thought. That Paradise of Struggle Balak mentioned? I think it’s the key.”
He was explaining something he had only thought of after cooling his head.
“The King of the Dead must mean Malleus, and the fact that they cannot take them because the Paradise of Struggle exists could have religious significance. Or perhaps Malleus is giving the orcs special allowances.”
As Miller continued, shifting his body this way and that, his accessories clinked.
“Whatever the case, if we follow the orcs’ ritual, it seems certain that we’ll find a way to leave the Cradle of the Dead safely. Hmm, I hope it involves spellcraft.”
His grin made his meaning clear.
For now, it would be best to follow the orcs’ lead.
After nodding at Miller’s words, Rene looked at Vera and asked,
“Vera, is there anything we need to prepare?”
“It does not appear that there is anything in particular. If we must find something, our schedule leaves no time to rest, so it would be best to rest well today.”
“Hmm, did they say there would be a festival?”
“Yes. They are preparing animals in the middle of the village. I can see about fifteen of them, and there is alcohol over there as well. I have a feeling this festival may also be part of the ritual.”
“Alcohol...”
At the word, Rene unconsciously licked her lips.
Vera’s pupils trembled as though an earthquake had struck.
“...Saintess?”
“Yes? Why?”
Rene tilted her head with an innocent expression.
‘Does she not know what she just did?’
Watching Rene react unconsciously to the mention of alcohol, Vera felt concern well up inside him.
‘I have to stop her.’
A strange certainty rose in him that, no matter what, he had to stop alcohol from entering Rene’s mouth.
Vera never wanted to see a Rene who had developed a taste for alcohol and spent every day drunkenly making a scene.
* * *
The sunset had set the world ablaze in red.
It was early evening on the Gynex Plains, where nothing but grasslands stretched in every direction.
Vera looked over the scene before him and continued explaining it to Rene.
“It seems the festival preparations are complete. The orcs are beginning to lay out seats one by one. It looks as though we need to get food from over there. Would you wait a moment? I will bring your share as well, Saintess.”
“Please do.”
“Yes, then excuse me.”
Vera rose and headed for the center of the village. An orc distributing cooked animals to his kin saw Vera approach, beamed brightly, tore off a leg from an animal as large as his own torso, and handed it to him.
“Strong one! I am glad to take part in the fighter’s ritual with you! Let’s do this well!”
Taking the leg, Vera examined the orc’s face.
The bruise swelling the orc’s right eye was one Vera had made earlier that day.
“...Is your eye all right?”
“It is not even an injury! A fighter does not hurt over something like this!”
Vera gave a quiet laugh at the answer.
“That is fortunate. I will see you tomorrow.”
He thought that they were a race one could call either wonderfully easygoing or foolish.
After all, he had suddenly appeared, beaten them all up, and even broken their king like that, yet none of them seemed displeased.
They only laughed heartily, looking as though they felt thoroughly refreshed, and their cheerfulness was making Vera feel good as well.
‘They do not calculate.’
They simply show how they feel.
It was something Vera still could not properly do, yet it was also something he needed to learn.
Vera’s gaze turned toward Balak in the distance, tearing apart an entire animal and eating it. Then he thought that perhaps the way Balak had wielded ideation came from that same attitude of not calculating.
‘Perhaps...’
Everything might be connected.
The Form and Intent Vargo had spoken of, Terisa’s words about learning how to become a child, and even Rene’s light that he had encountered at the end of the previous iteration.
Perhaps a longing free of ulterior thoughts formed the foundation of it all.
As he walked toward where Rene was, Vera remained lost in those thoughts for a long time.
* * *
“It is Vera.”
Aisha’s words made Rene and Vera turn toward her at the same time.
“Why are you calling me?”
“I was not calling you.”
“...What?”
“There! That is called Vera too!”
Aisha pointed toward the bottle of alcohol the twins and Miller were drinking.
Only then did Vera understand what she meant.
There was a bottle he found quite familiar there.
Cheap Vera rum.
The alcohol that had given him his name was there.
“Vera? What is Aisha talking about?”
Vera had been feeling strangely nostalgic when Rene’s question brought him back to his senses.
“Ah, she says that the alcohol the twins and the professor are drinking is called Vera. How strange. It is usually distributed only within the Empire, yet it has reached even a place like this.”
“They got it through raiding.”
Hella, who had approached at some point, answered Vera’s words.
Sitting beside Rene, Hella held a bottle of Vera and continued.
“I asked around. They say they attack smugglers whenever they cross the plains and take it from them.”
At Hella’s words, Rene’s sightless eyes seemed to sparkle.
“May I try some too?”
Alarm appeared on Vera’s face.
“...Pardon?”
Was she tempted by the mention of alcohol?
As an abrupt sense of danger filled him and Vera tried to say no, Hella moved faster and handed the bottle of Vera to Rene.
“Here you go.”
Vera’s gaze fixed on Hella. Ignoring it, Hella left her seat and praised herself.
‘That was a good one.’
Hella had realized something. Though she had silently remained at Rene’s side, merely carrying out her duties mechanically did not fit the idea of serving her.
She needed to take the initiative now and then, like Annie, if she wanted to earn favor.
Hella clenched her fist and gave it a small pump.
Vera let out a hollow laugh as he watched her leave, then turned to Rene.
He meant to stop her from drinking.
“Saintess, alcohol is probably...”
“I can push away the intoxication, you know?”
Her answer was an obvious refusal.
Rene shook the bottle with a bright smile.
“Why are you trying to stop me now?”
Vera could not find an answer.
Rene chuckled at Vera’s obvious fluster, then opened the bottle.
Rene already knew that this alcohol was connected to the origin of Vera’s name.
There had clearly been something about it in the past Orgus had projected.
That was why she felt this way.
She hoped Vera did not dislike the connection between this alcohol and his name. She hoped he could love his name just as it was.
There was also a little mischief mixed into that feeling.
Rene brought the bottle to her lips and filled her mouth with an amount she could swallow in one go.
It had a sharp, rough, unrefined scent.
She rolled it over her tongue for a moment to savor it, then swallowed.
‘It is strong.’
It seemed to have quite a high alcohol content.
Rene did not have much experience drinking, but she could tell this was alcohol people drank in order to get drunk.
“Saintess...”
Vera’s concerned voice rang in her ears.
Rene smiled softly and spoke.
“Vera tastes good.”
The double meaning, carrying her feelings for Vera and a little mischief, froze Vera in place.
His face began turning bright red.
Vera’s expression soured.
“...That sort of joke is troublesome.”
“What do you mean? I only said the alcohol tastes good.”
“...”
Rene giggled.
Vera only glared at her.
Aisha, chewing on an animal leg, applauded at the sight.
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