WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Natty
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◈ The Regressor and the Blind Saintess ◈
Chapter 65: Dovan - 2
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Rene quickly sent Vera away.
She had made the decision because she feared that if the emotional Aisha provoked her again, she might have an outburst. Worse, she might show Vera another ugly side of herself.
Rene did not want Vera to see her in such a state again.
“...Please call for me if anything happens.”
Those had been Vera's last words before leaving.
After giving him a vague reply and sending him off, Rene firmly gripped Aisha by both shoulders and spoke.
“We're not talking about that anymore, all right?”
Desperation and urgency clung to her flushed face.
It was her way of begging Aisha not to dig up any more of her humiliating past.
Aisha had yet to calm the tears she had been shedding. She kept hiccupping as she answered.
“I-I'm, hic, sorry....”
“No!”
“Hic...!”
With the sternest, most serious expression she had worn in a long while, Rene leaned her face toward where Aisha's head should be and spoke.
“Did we ever have anything to apologize for between us...?”
Aisha shook her head from side to side. Her tail stood straight and rigid.
Though no answer came aloud, Rene could feel Aisha's movements through the shoulders she held. Only then did she nod in satisfaction.
“That’s right.”
Rene gently stroked Aisha's head.
That settled it for now.
As Rene continued stroking her hair with a trace of relief in her heart, Aisha, who had been frightened the entire time, looked up at her.
‘...She isn't angry?’
Aisha had been certain Rene would get angry. Instead, she had let it pass without a word and was stroking her hair.
‘If it were me, I'd have given her a thrashing....’
How generous did someone have to be to let something like this go?
As Aisha looked at Rene, she could not help thinking that the title Saintess was not one just anyone could bear.
...That was right. Rene's attempt to bury everything in silence so that her humiliating past would stay hidden was moving the young girl deeply.
Knowing nothing of Rene's true intentions, Aisha gradually felt calmer beneath the gentle touch stroking her hair. Without realizing it, her eyes narrowed as a soft purr slipped out.
It was not deliberate. It was simply an instinct she possessed as a feline beastfolk.
Seeing that Aisha had stopped trembling and begun to purr, Rene's earlier embarrassment faded, and she let out a small laugh.
‘A child is still a child.’
That was what she was thinking.
‘It feels like I only need to coax her a little more.’
With that thought, Rene pulled Aisha into a tight embrace and patted her back.
“All better now?”
“Yes....”
A blush rose to Aisha's face. Only now had she become embarrassed about suddenly burying her face in the floor and crying.
“Um, Saintess....”
“Rene.”
“...Huh?”
“I'm not Saintess. I'm Rene. We're friends, aren't we? Friends should call each other by name.”
Aisha blinked at Rene, then nodded.
“...Then, Miss Rene.”
She lowered her head deeply as she spoke. Her cheeks were burning red.
Feeling awkward about having her head buried in Rene's embrace, Aisha fidgeted for no reason before finally hugging Rene back.
Rene's laughter rang in her ears.
As Aisha rested her head against Rene's chest, a thought suddenly came to her.
‘...She's big.’
Rene really was generous in more ways than one.
* * *
A week passed.
During that time, Vera had turned away armies from two different factions that came looking for them.
He had used the platinum rosary he possessed. Rather than taking harsher measures, he had judged that quietly resolving the matter would be better both for Rene and for Dovan's work.
Vera watched Dovan's back as Dovan worked inside the forge.
‘There have been no problems so far.’
He had kept a close watch on Aisha, fearing that the increasingly desperate armies might take her hostage. Yet they showed no interest in Aisha at all.
The armies treated her with complete indifference, as though they did not care what happened to her.
‘Something is bound to happen....’
Vera knew exactly what form the resentment dwelling within the Demon Sword took.
The emotion that flooded into him when blades crossed, stirring every thought in his mind, was one that could only be born from searing hatred.
Where and how would events unfold for the Demon Sword to be completed?
As Vera watched Dovan work with that question in mind, Dovan finally finished and turned toward him.
“What do you think?”
Vera's gaze turned to what Dovan had picked up with the tongs.
Hanging from their end was a long ingot that still looked rather blunt. It was the Proden Vera had commissioned.
Looking at the Proden, which had yet to lose its red glow, Vera answered with admiration in his voice.
“You are working quite quickly.”
“Since you're helping me this much, shouldn't I finish the commission I took on first? Ah, that doesn't mean I'm doing it carelessly.”
There was a playful note in Dovan's words.
Looking at Dovan, who smiled like a boy despite Dovan's age while showing him the Proden, Vera blurted out a thought.
“...You truly love this work, don't you?”
“Hm? Of course. You cannot reach this level without loving it.”
Dovan placed the Proden on the workbench, then looked toward the Demon Sword hanging in the corner.
“A masterpiece is even more so. It is not something you can make simply because you want to. You must become so immersed that you lose yourself while forging its body, then place Intent within it to complete it.”
There was longing in Dovan's tone, along with passion.
“I can roughly feel it. There is nothing more I can improve in that sword through technique alone. What it lacks is one Intent to contain. I have not found that yet, so I cannot complete it.”
Intent.
A word Vargo used as often as breathing. And one still far beyond Vera.
Following Dovan's gaze toward the Demon Sword, Vera spoke almost under his breath.
“...You will be able to do it.”
“Are you comforting me?”
“It is certainty.”
Dovan looked at Vera. A quiet chuckle escaped.
“Can Apostles know things like that too?”
“Let us call it the intuition of someone who wields a sword.”
Vera could be certain only because he had already seen the result in his previous life. Yet there was no way to explain that, so all he could offer was a vague answer.
‘Its completion....’
The completion of a sword that devoured hatred and poured out resentment.
Then a question began to take shape in Vera's mind.
If the Intent placed within that Demon Sword was resentment, if Dovan had to pour such hatred into it to complete it, was that truly for Dovan's sake?
Was it truly right for Vera to stand by and watch?
Was the completion of that Demon Sword worth so much? Was Aisha Dragnov, who would become its wielder, truly necessary in the battle against the Demon King?
A scale appeared in his heart.
The future Dovan, who would have to spew enough hatred to carve resentment into the blade, and the future Aisha, who would eventually reach the Demon King, stood on either side of it as their weight was measured.
Which was more valuable?
Vera found the answer rather easily.
It was because Rene had already taught him.
‘...There is no greater cause built on the sacrifice of someone unwilling.’
Vera's gaze sank.
If it was a sword completed through such hatred, then at least by the principle Vera knew, it was right to stop it.
The greater cause he wanted was not such a thing, and the principle he wished to uphold pointed in another direction. He would stop it in the end.
Yet he still hesitated because he could not be certain that it was truly right.
The questions that led one after another now presented Vera with a different problem.
‘...What if Dovan wishes for the Demon Sword's completion in that moment?’
When something that could only be called an accident occurred, when Dovan's life hung in the balance.
If Dovan's passion drove Dovan to place that hatred into the sword in the end, would stopping it truly be for Dovan's sake?
His thoughts continued once more.
Vera pressed his lips together and followed the questions that kept rising within him.
* * *
Beneath the royal castle of the Third Kingdom of the Alliance of Kingdoms.
Barreta, a general of the Bear Tribe, walked deep beneath the royal palace behind the minister who had summoned Barreta.
“Where are we going?”
Barreta spoke irritably to the minister leading the way.
The minister answered without changing posture or looking back.
“His Majesty wishes to see you.”
“...In a place like this?”
No answer came.
Barreta clicked their tongue softly and continued after the minister.
At the bottom of the cylindrical staircase stretching underground, after they had descended for quite some time, stood a very thick steel door.
“This is....”
“Where His Majesty resides.”
Thump. Thump.
The minister knocked on the steel door.
It opened shortly after, and Barreta frowned at the creeeak that sounded as the door moved.
“Go in.”
The minister stepped aside. Barreta looked at the unreadable minister for a moment before heading through the door.
Beyond it was a space filled only with pitch-black darkness. Silence hung in the air, broken only by Barreta's footsteps.
As Barreta walked through it,
“Have you come, General?”
Barreta flinched at the sudden voice.
The next moment, Barreta dropped to their knees with a thud.
Without even knowing where the voice came from, Barreta lowered their head.
“Your Majesty.”
“The imperial descendant?”
“...My apologies.”
At the mention of Dovan, Barreta felt their expression twist.
A week ago, an Apostle had suddenly taken up residence there, leaving them unable to accomplish anything before returning. The frustration of that still remained.
The sovereign's voice echoed through the space again.
“Yes, what can be done? An Apostle is an Apostle.”
There was a faint hint of laughter in the voice.
Barreta sensed something strange in their sovereign's tone and cautiously lifted their head.
The voice sounded as though it were scraping against something.
“Your Majesty?”
The surroundings were still dark.
The space remained nothing but pitch-black silence.
Barreta strained their eyes, searching for their sovereign in the darkness. It took quite some time before they finally found them.
Even then, Barreta could only make out a silhouette.
“General.”
“...Yes.”
“Don't you find it ridiculous no matter how you think of it?”
“...What do you mean?”
Even as Barreta answered, they continued staring at the silhouette.
Their eyes were slowly growing accustomed to the darkness.
The silhouette was becoming clearer.
“This deadlock. What are they all so afraid of? They never stop crying out about a greater cause or justification.”
“Please withdraw those words.”
“Withdraw them?”
Barreta narrowed their eyes.
Their sovereign's silhouette was nearly complete.
“I believe they are all excuses made by cowards.”
A dragon robe cloaked in darkness came into view.
“I believe they are only raising their voices at one another because they are afraid to approach the simplest answer.”
Long hair flowing down came into view.
“And so, should not I, the only brave one, lead those cowards?”
A smiling expression came into view.
Barreta swallowed a dry breath upon finally seeing their sovereign's appearance.
“My lord....”
“You mean this? It is a symbol of bravery. A symbol of a ruler.”
Barreta's body suddenly began to tremble.
Their sovereign, His Majesty, that massive body turned around. The smile at its lips deepened.
Thud.
A deep resonance shook the space.
“Therefore, I called you here because it seems I must take a small liberty with my general. This symbol is not quite complete yet.”
Thud.
The resonances drew nearer.
Trembling from head to toe, Barreta looked at the massive body that had come close enough to be seen clearly now.
The massive body raised a hand.
“I will not forget you.”
A low growl sounded.
Then the massive body's hand swung faster than the eye could follow.
Crunch!
As Barreta's neck was torn away, one word rose in their mind.
‘...Haman.’
It was the name of a tyrant who had fallen and died in the distant past.
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