I Gave Up on Conquering the Heroines – Chapter 180

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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“…?”

The chilling cold receded, like winter giving way to spring. The icy grip that had threatened to freeze Elvenguard solid loosened its hold.

“Waaaah! It’s over! The disaster is over!”

Cheers erupted from all directions. The elves, halting their evacuation, stared in disbelief at the melting ice, their faces alight with joy.

They had survived. The disasters that had plagued them for the past few days had finally passed. They embraced, celebrating their survival.

But not everyone shared their joy. Yerina, the Frost Duchess, stood frozen, her hand resting on the collapsed dungeon entrance.

The stones beneath her touch slowly warmed. Her resentment, the curse directed at Yoo-jin, had vanished.

In other words…he was gone.

“Yoo-jin! Yoo-jin! Aaaaaaaaaah…!”

Her body moved on its own, frantically clawing at the rubble.

It didn’t matter how many stones were piled there, or how badly her nails tore, her fingers bled. She had to reach him.

“Frost Duchess! Calm down! Frost Duchess-”

“Leave her. No one can stop her now. We just have to wait until she collapses from exhaustion.”

“…”

Jill and Yulia, arriving late, were held back by Transylvania, watching helplessly as Yerina, on all fours, tore at the rubble like a wild animal, a rabid beast.

“The one who suppressed her madness…is gone…there’s nothing we can do…”

Jill gritted her teeth, a sharp cracking sound echoing in the air. She wanted to join Yerina, but she was still too rational, too weak to move the heavy stones.

“H-Heavy…equipment…I’ll…try to…find some…”

“Yes. I’ll help.”

The only thing they could do was gather all the heavy machinery in the area and excavate the dungeon.

Jill and Yulia, tears streaming down their faces, turned and began their search. They wanted to lose themselves in grief, to numb the pain like Yerina, but they couldn’t.

Someone had to remain rational, someone had to keep a clear head. They pushed their exhausted bodies, desperately clinging to the hope that Yoo-jin might still be alive down there.

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Elvenguard had fallen. The chilling cold had vanished, but the land, its life extinguished by the frost, couldn’t recover.

The World Tree, more than half its trunk consumed by the ice, withered and died after a month-long struggle. The elven nation, centered around the World Tree, had met its end.

But it wasn’t the end of Elvenguard. The elves, having accepted the World Tree’s death, weren’t consumed by despair.

The hundred thousand elven citizens began their long march, arriving at the undeveloped land they had purchased in Gallia. The land was barren, the climate harsh, the terrain unforgiving, but they began their work without complaint.

There was no time for grief. For their future, for their people, for Elvenguard, they dedicated themselves to rebuilding. Their superior physical abilities allowed them to quickly establish a new nation.

Though its former glory had faded, Elvenguard was no longer an isolated backwater, but a city on the path to becoming a global hub.

“What are you waiting for? Get those machines working!”

“Frost Duchess, the equipment needs to rest. Continuous operation will cause damage.”

“I’ll compensate for any damages! And I’m paying double! Now get to work!”

“Haa…very well…”

Meanwhile, at the site of the old Elvenguard, behind the skeletal remains of the World Tree, excavation continued day and night.

Dozens of heavy machines lined the site, tirelessly digging through the collapsed dungeon.

The workers, hired by the Frost Duchess, the Witch, and the Saintess, worked in shifts, their progress five times faster than normal, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“How are you feeling?”

“My broken bones are almost healed.”

“You should rest…You’re pushing yourself too hard…”

Yerina, after a day of frantic digging, had collapsed from exhaustion and injuries.

She had regained her senses upon waking up and seeing the heavy machinery at work, finally realizing the futility of her manual labor.

“Physical pain is better…it distracts me from the…emptiness…I want to…lose myself again…to go mad…”

“Y-Yoo-jin…wouldn’t…want that…”

“It’s rained three times already…! What if the dungeon is flooded? Yoo-jin…he must be alive…he must be cold…Huu…”

Yulia held the sobbing Yerina, her body covered in bandages and casts, a worried sigh escaping her lips.

They had once been rivals, competing for Yoo-jin’s affection, but now, they were united by their shared grief and worry, three women bound by a common loss.

It no longer mattered who came first. They weren’t alone. They just wanted him back, alive.

“We’re almost at the bottom level…!”

The excavation continued, and they finally reached the bottom of the dungeon, a labyrinthine network of tunnels.

They had detected no signs of life, no sounds, but they hadn’t given up hope. They believed, without a doubt, that Yoo-jin was alive. They only worried about him being hungry.

“There seems to be another dungeon below this level.”

“Let’s keep digging.”

It was time.

Yoo-jin would have prepared for this. He would be waiting for them, safe and sound behind a sturdy barrier, munching on snacks, a smug look on his face. The thought brought a smile to their lips.

The hidden dungeon below, the double dungeon, was revealed, the rubble-covered altar finally exposed.

“Huh…?”

And on it…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Their faces hardened.

“What is this?”

Yerina ripped off her casts and rushed forward, frantically clearing the remaining rubble. She knew he wouldn’t be there, but she couldn’t stop.

“W-Why…? Y-Yoo-jin…where…where did you go…?”

Yulia collapsed, her legs giving way, her body slumping against the dirt floor. They had excavated the entire dungeon.

He had entered, and he hadn’t come out. He should be here. But there was no trace of him, not even his remains. Only a single withered corpse, clearly not his, judging by its attire, height, and hair color.

“Ah…aah…”

Jill, having searched every corner of the dungeon, collapsed on the altar, her eyes vacant. There were no other exits. He couldn’t have escaped.

Then how…?

She found her answer on the altar.

“No…no way…”

He had said, confidently, that he had a way to capture the spirit Necromancer, Luna. But he had been reluctant to explain the details.

She had assumed it was because of the urgency of the situation, the complexity of the method, but now…she understood.

How could she have been so blind?

“He…he intended to die from the start?”

He hadn’t planned to survive. The price for exorcising Luna’s spirit must have been his own life.

He had used this altar to eliminate Luna and sacrificed himself to…someone. There was no other explanation.

“Ahaha. You’re kidding, right, Saintess? Yoo-jin wouldn’t do that. That cowardly man wouldn’t make such a sacrifice.”

“Y-Yoo-jin…he…he would be…right behind us…s-scaring us…right now…”

They turned around, laughing nervously, but there was nothing there, only the dark, empty tunnels.

“…”

Their eyes widened, the shock finally wearing off, the reality sinking in. He was dead. Or rather…he was gone.

The weight of his absence crushed them, their hearts shattering.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…!”

Screams, wails of anguish, erupted from their throats, their tears long since dried, their hands clutching their chests as they sobbed uncontrollably.

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Two letters arrived simultaneously at the Briam residence in Cologne, the former capital of the Holy Empire. One from Oracle Mia of Elvenguard, the other from Saintess Jill Diner.

“Huh…?”

The letters, from seemingly unrelated senders, contained the same message. Cornelia Briam’s hands trembled as she read the words.

She packed her belongings and departed immediately, arriving two days later at the site of the former Elvenguard, the place where the World Tree had died.

And there, she met an unexpected gathering.

“I’m sorry. This must be…sudden.”

“What…what’s going on…?”

Women dressed in black.

The Frost Duchess, the Witch, the Saintess, and the Oracle. And others as well: a rabbit beastman, a fox beastman, a young girl in a training uniform, a dwarf girl, a white-haired old man, a paladin and his younger brother, and elves.

A diverse group, united in grief.

Cornelia, bewildered, noticed a freshly dug grave, large enough for a coffin, and a simple black coffin placed within it.

Her gaze fell upon the tombstone, its inscription making her lips tremble.

“Y-Yoo-jin…?”

She wished she was mistaken. This couldn’t be happening.

She stumbled towards the coffin, collapsing before it. No one tried to stop her. They had all been through this.

They bit their lips, fighting back tears, wanting to join her in her grief.

“He…he promised to return…he…he promised a future together…This…this is a lie, right? Tell me it’s a lie.”

“…”

“Look! There’s no body in the coffin! Where is he?! Where’s his body?!”

“…”

“If there’s no body…then he’s not dead! What are you doing?! Why are you holding a funeral for someone who’s not dead?! This is ridiculous! Why are you playing with my heart like this?!”

“…”

Her anger, her grief, lashed out in all directions. They had all been there. Explanations were useless.

Her mind understood, but her heart raged, unable to process the truth. Only time could heal this wound.

“Yoo-jin…he…he died bravely. He saved Elvenguard, a hundred thousand lives…he defeated an immortal enemy…a glorious death…”

“What’s so glorious about dying?! What good is glory when you’re dead?!”

“Hey! Stop whining! Do you think we’re not upset?!”

“…”

“I’m angry! I’m devastated! We all are! But we’re trying to be strong…! Don’t blame us! Don’t accuse us! No one here deserves that!”

“Then…then…whose fault is it…? Who am I supposed to blame…?”

Cornelia collapsed onto the coffin, sobbing uncontrollably. Her grief spread, tears flowing freely.

Some had been helped by Yoo-jin, some had shared emotions with him, and some had been saved by him. Almost everyone here knew his name.

Only a few knew of the enemy he had faced. The world would never know that he had sacrificed his life to save them.

His journey had ended, his name and his story remembered only by those gathered here. He would fade from history, his sacrifice unsung. But that didn’t make his actions meaningless.

“His will…must live on.”

They held each other, comforting each other in their shared grief, then gathered, their resolve hardening.

The fight wasn’t over. They had defeated the immediate threat, but Belphegor had escaped, remnants of the undead army remained, and a far greater enemy, the one they called ‘Him,’ still loomed.

Yoo-jin might have been strong, but his true power wasn’t his physical strength. It was his ability to unite people.

Though he was gone, the people he had gathered remained, his will living on within them.

“We will establish an organization to combat the other world. We don’t know when, but according to Yoo-jin, the enemy will invade, intent on destroying our world. We will strike first. We will destroy the other world. It seems impossible, but it’s not. Yoo-jin left us…a legacy…”

The hope he left behind, though fragile, flickered on, a resilient ember refusing to be extinguished.

“So…let’s join forces.”

The Saintess, her tears swallowed, made her vow. Even if his name was forgotten, his will would live on.

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The week-long funeral ended, and a single tombstone remained on the abandoned land of Elvenguard.

The tombstone, marking an empty grave, stood tall in the vast meadow.

Time passed.

Days turned into nights, sunlight and shadows dancing across the stone. Rain and wind washed over it, snow buried it. Storms raged, migratory birds came and went.

Moss grew on the stone, only to be scrubbed clean by unknown hands. The tombstone endured, its surface weathered, its edges chipped, but its presence unwavering.

“…”

How much time had passed? The once lush forest had become a barren wasteland.

A man and a girl, cloaked in rags, stood before the lone tombstone.

“Huu…”

The man chuckled, a hollow sound, and approached the tombstone. He gripped it, pulling it free from the ground. He ran his hand over its surface, then struck it with the edge of his hand.

The tombstone, which had withstood years of weathering, cracked and split in two.

Thud!

The broken tombstone revealed a long, black sword, its hilt missing, only the tang remaining.

The man picked it up, a familiar gesture, and sheathed it in a wooden scabbard, a perfect fit.

“Why did it take so long? Heh. It’s a long story…I’ll tell you later.”

“…”

“Oh, and I heard the undead army is causing trouble. Should we go and deal with them now?”

“…”

“Hmm. That might be difficult. I have a lot to do now that I’m back.”

“…”

The man muttered to himself, his fingers tracing the tang of the sword.

Leaving the broken tombstone behind, he walked away, the girl silently following, their figures disappearing into the distance.

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