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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Valian kept cursing under his breath. Bastard. Fucking bastard. Piece of shit bastard. What? He said if Valian refused, he’d have to fight the soldiers? Did he think Valian couldn’t fight? Whether it was ten soldiers or a hundred, there was a limit to how many could engage him at once if he had his back against a wall.
And fighting 3-to-1 or 4-to-1 odds, there was no way he would lose. He didn’t tire easily, so he could probably take on a hundred or even two hundred of them given his current abilities and stats.
…Valian unclenched his gritted teeth.
A hundred, maybe. But what about a thousand? Before wondering if he could defeat that many, could he really bring himself to slaughter so many people? Could he really treat them as mere data mobs to be killed without a second thought?
Valian could kill when necessary, or if it awarded good experience – this world had made him that way. But slaying hundreds was a different matter. Valian, this modern man turned mock barbarian warrior, didn’t think he could bear the weight of hundreds of lives on his conscience.
Even if killing one or a hundred were inherently the same act of murder, he couldn’t rationalize it that way. Self-deception, his stunted conscience protested feebly, but he couldn’t help it.
Damn it, how were they the same? How could anyone think that?
While Valian wasted mental energy on such fruitless thoughts, the soldier Bervira silently took the lead.
They arrived at the stables. Only then did Valian regain his senses.
“What’s this? We’re going by horse?”
“It’s quite a distance. I’ll lead the way.”
Bervira brought out two large, sturdy horses.
“Hyah!”
Bervira suddenly spurred his horse forward while Valian was still mounting. What was that about? Why the rush?
But Valian didn’t just gawk. He quickly kicked his horse’s flanks to catch up with Bervira. The stables were outside Noife’s walls, so they soon emerged into grassy fields dotted with trees.
Bervira remained silent, and Valian wasn’t skilled enough at horseback to make conversation, so he kept quiet too.
After riding in silence for a while, a solitary boulder suddenly came into view ahead. Bervira reined in his horse, and Valian followed suit, stopping as well.
For a moment, Bervira just stared at the boulder from his saddle. Valian spoke up.
“Why are you spacing out? Aren’t we going?”
“That’s where we’re headed.”
“What?”
“That’s where the witch dwells, I mean.”
Valian turned to look at the boulder. It did seem odd for such a squarish rock formation to be sitting alone in the middle of the forest. Bervira dismounted, and Valian did the same.
Valian addressed Bervira again.
“You’re saying that that boulder is the witch’s home?”
“No, not quite. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“Of those who ventured past that boulder, none returned unchanged…as humans.”
Valian furrowed his brow skeptically. Something seemed off.
“But you mentioned one who fled?”
“That was me.”
Looking closer, Valian saw Bervira was visibly trembling. So he had still come this far despite his terror.
“Hmm. Then tell me exactly what you saw. You said your comrades fell under the witch’s spells before being transformed – explain that part.”
Bervira slowly shook his head.
“…That was just an excuse out of fear of the lord’s reprimand. In truth, we never even saw the witch’s face. From what we knew, the witch’s dwelling lies beyond that rock formation, following a narrow path. But the moment we dismounted and went around the boulder, Zirai, Babevo and Jeini transformed into monsters. And that was it. Following behind, I fled on horseback as soon as I saw my comrades change. So I have no idea if they still wander these woods as beasts.”
What the fuck. So I’ve been thrown into this blind situation.
Bervira drew his sword, its blade glowing faintly blue.
“I’ll take the lead. If I transform into a monster, behead me swiftly.”
Damn it all. This fool has lost his mind. Valian could roughly guess what happened – comrades Bervira was close to transformed horrifically, he abandoned them, he knows nothing about the witch’s spells, and has no idea when the lord might punish him for deserting his men. This young man is clearly having a mental breakdown.
So instead of making any plans, he’s rushing headlong in hopes of alleviating his guilt through self-sacrifice.
Valian grabbed Bervira’s arm.
“Stop. You mean to just charge ahead, not knowing what foul magic lingers around that boulder?”
Bervira’s eyes darted anxiously. Yes, he feared falling under its sway.
“Wait here. You said everyone who passed that boulder transformed, right? Then let’s examine it first, from the front – slowly.”
Looking Bervira over, Valian realized he wasn’t just young, but practically a boy. Hadn’t the lord said his men fought alongside him since the Eastern War? So was this one newly recruited?
Valian pulled Bervira behind him as he advanced, sharpening his senses to detect any hints of magic to guard against as they approached. Dry leaves crunched underfoot. Valian focused intently on each minor sound, drawing within twenty meters of the boulder.
Suddenly, Valian stopped as someone – something – emerged stumbling from behind the rock.
“Zirai!”
Bervira gasped in shock. One of the soldiers who had reportedly transformed?
This Zirai had an ashen pallor, tattered clothes hanging loosely. His eyes shone blank white, no pupils visible.
“Zirai! You’re alive?!”
When Zirai didn’t respond, Bervira called out again desperately. But Zirai seemed not to notice, his mouth opening instead.
“Well met, Aynakian savage. Have you come to kill me too?”
Bervira’s eyes rolled frantically. Valian asked him,
“Did his voice always sound like that?”
Zirai’s voice had an unmistakably feminine tone, completely unlike an adult male’s should be.
“…No. Zirai always took pride in his gruff tones.”
Valian nodded in understanding.
“So the witch is working her tricks. Very well, witch – any words before we get to business?”
Zirai’s mouth opened again.
“I merely wish to confirm if you’ve come to kill me as well, in hopes of claiming Viraki’s bounty, Aynakian.”
After a moment’s pause, Valian responded.
“More importantly, how did you know I hail from Aynakia?”
The corpse-like Zirai cocked his head slightly.
“Are you not Valtazar’s great warrior?”
Valian’s eyes widened. In the game lore, that was an honorific sometimes given to barbarian warriors. Valtazar’s great warrior.
“And how did you deduce that?”
“Your appearance and bearing, for one. Only barbarians like you have such an unkempt, burly physique yet face a witch armed with just a lone blade.”
Zirai continued matter-of-factly.
“And you bear Valtazar’s blessing, do you not? Though my abilities are still crude, even I can sense that much.”
Valian nodded slowly. Right, so Valtazar was an actual deity in this world – not just game lore. If faithful to the setting, Valtazar would be a tremendous war god, greatest of all warrior deities who led the vanguard against the evil demons emerging from the underworld depths. Of course, the Church of Epollu rejected such ‘pagan’ gods.
And the progenitor of the Aynakian warrior tribes – this body’s supposed ancestors, if following the lore.
“Is your curiosity sated? Then allow me to ask – are you also here to kill me and claim Viraki’s reward?”
Valian gave a wry nod. What excuse could he give at this point? He had no other credible reason.
Zirai nodded as well.
“You’re all such fools. Do you honestly believe that charlatan will pay the promised reward? What makes you pester me at his behest?”
Zirai waved a dismissive hand.
“You seem like a formidable warrior, such a waste. Had circumstances been different, you could have achieved greatness.”
Valian drew his thick, wide-bladed longsword, its considerable length making it almost like a battle-axe suitable for a barbarian warrior’s brute strength.
Valian then abruptly said
“And you, Bervira, will you keep cowering behind that corpse?”
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