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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Even as Wagner hesitated, the battle raged on.
Guinness and Wolf kept the Sandman occupied, buying time while Kundt, seizing any opportunity, hammered at the sand giant, trying to dislodge its core.
Wagner, in turn, protected Kundt.
The problem was fatigue.
They had already fought through five waves of monsters, battling for hours with little rest.
Even these veteran adventurers were nearing their limits.
‘Again…!’
The Sandman’s massive arm rose once more.
Each blow was a struggle to block, and Wagner’s strength was waning.
But this time, something was different.
The Sandman, previously distracted by Guinness and Wolf, now focused solely on Wagner.
More precisely, on Kundt, who stood behind him.
The Sandman seemed to have realized, through the prolonged fight, that Kundt, with his hammer, was the only real threat to its core.
This was a dangerous sign.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
A barrage of fists rained down on Wagner’s shield.
Each blow was heavy, threatening to tear his arm from its socket.
Having endured five waves of monsters and now the Sandman’s relentless assault, Wagner felt his own limits approaching.
His calloused hands, hardened by years of adventuring, were bleeding as he gripped his shield.
Was this the end?
Was retreat their only option?
He had failed to rescue Pichoni and Ronchevich, and now Iyer was gone too.
This second search seemed doomed to fail.
Lost in these grim thoughts, Wagner’s focus wavered for a split second.
The Sandman exploited the opening, its fist lashing out with renewed speed.
Too late.
Wagner desperately raised his shield, but it wouldn’t be enough.
The blow would land before he could fully protect himself.
He had made the worst mistake a vanguard could make, and left his comrades vulnerable.
He braced for the impact, the pain that was sure to follow.
As the Sandman’s fist descended, casting a shadow over Wagner…
‘It’ arrived, accompanied by a rush of air.
Thwack!
“…!”
A dull thud, and the Sandman staggered.
Wagner hadn’t seen clearly what had struck the sand giant, but he had glimpsed two fist-sized objects whirling through the air.
Whatever it was, the impact had been powerful enough to shatter the Sandman’s arm and send the giant stumbling backward.
Relief washed over Wagner, followed immediately by a surge of curiosity.
As he watched, a figure leaped from behind the fallen Sandman, soaring through the air towards him.
The dim light of the cave obscured the details, but he caught a glimpse of dark hair, a brown robe, and the familiar black cloth covering the eyes.
He didn’t need to see more to know who it was.
A grin spread across Wagner’s face as he shouted,
“Iyer!”
As if responding to the joy and relief in Wagner’s voice, Iyer landed lightly beside him, a playful grin on his face.
“The problem solver has arrived.”
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There were few people in Wagner’s life whose mere presence brought such a sense of reassurance.
Iyer was one of them.
Even if Iyer didn’t have a solution, his presence bolstered Wagner’s spirits.
It was an inexplicable boost of morale.
“Wagner, reform the ranks!”
Iyer’s shout snapped Wagner back to the present.
The return of his friend was a cause for celebration, but the enemy still loomed.
Wagner tightened his grip on his shield, taking his position in front of Iyer.
The Sandman was still recovering from its fall.
Seeing their vanguard return to his place, Iyer drew his bow, nocking an arrow.
The familiar twang of his composite bow resonated through the cave as he drew the string taut.
“Remember! The arrow is the signal!”
Iyer’s cryptic words confused the other three party members.
But Wagner, having adventured with Iyer for years, knew there was a plan.
Iyer always had a plan.
“The arrow is the signal. Be ready.”
Wagner relayed the message, and Kundt nodded in understanding.
He could almost feel the cave itself thrumming in anticipation of Iyer’s actions.
Iyer, bow drawn, seemed to be waiting for something, his arrow aimed at the cave ceiling.
Seconds stretched into an eternity.
The Sandman, having regenerated its arm, was pushing itself back to its feet.
Still, Iyer remained motionless.
But Wagner didn’t rush him.
He trusted Iyer implicitly.
As the Sandman planted its hands and began to rise, Iyer released the arrow.
It flew through the air, striking a massive stalactite hanging from the ceiling.
An arrow wouldn’t normally have any effect on a stalactite.
But Wagner knew Iyer was anything but ordinary.
He had no idea what Iyer was planning, but as the arrow struck the stalactite, the cave thrummed.
And then, impossibly, the massive, cone-shaped stalactite began to fall.
Directly onto the rising Sandman’s head.
“Iyer…!”
His friend never ceased to amaze him.
As if by magic, the stalactite, propelled by gravity, slammed into the Sandman, cleaving the sand giant in two.
Sand rained down in a miniature storm as the Sandman’s form disintegrated.
Wagner finally understood what Iyer had meant by “the arrow is the signal.”
“Kundt!”
Kundt, who had been waiting behind Wagner, surged forward at the signal, pushing Wagner aside.
The scattered sand was already beginning to coalesce, reforming the Sandman’s body.
It wasn’t dead yet.
But that wasn’t the important part.
The important part was that the Sandman’s core, the key to its destruction, was now exposed.
Kundt reached the shattered remains of the Sandman, his eyes locking onto a fist-sized, shimmering crystal within the sand.
The Sandman’s core.
He knew it instinctively.
He hefted his massive hammer, raising it above his head.
He gripped the handle tightly.
“Haaaaah!”
With a roar, he brought the hammer down, putting all his strength, all his desperation, into the blow.
The scattered Sandman had no defense.
The hammer struck the shimmering core…
Crack!
A sharp, brittle sound echoed, and the core shattered.
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Years ago, perhaps two or three into his adventuring career…
Wagner had always dreamed of following in his father’s footsteps whose had also been an adventurer.
He envisioned himself wielding a greatsword, just like his father, slaying monsters, and earning fame and fortune.
That was his childhood dream.
When he was old enough, and strong enough, he took up his father’s greatsword and became an adventurer.
Despite his young age, he was both physically and mentally gifted, quickly learning the ropes and proving himself capable.
A year passed, then another.
He distinguished himself in countless battles, earning a reputation as a master swordsman, a rising star.
Wagner of the Greatsword.
He cherished that title.
Around the time his name began to spread, he heard a rumor.
‘There’s a new rookie, about your age. He’s blind, apparently.’
At the time, he hadn’t given it much thought.
But he didn’t know then that a fateful encounter with this rookie would change his life forever.
It would even lead him to abandon his beloved greatsword.
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A lucrative request from a trading company had drawn a large number of adventurers, nearly thirty in all.
The task was to escort a caravan through dangerous territory, and as the company had warned, they encountered a formidable number of monsters.
But the most impressive adventurer wasn’t a seasoned veteran, nor one clad in expensive armor.
It wasn’t even Wagner, still only two years into his career.
It was a young adventurer with a black cloth covering his eyes.
He moved with uncanny awareness, wielding his bow and sword with a skill that belied his blindness.
Black hair.
Inexpensive leather armor that looked almost new.
An ordinary composite bow and an iron sword.
And the black cloth over his eyes.
Wagner recognized him instantly.
The blind adventurer he had heard rumors about.
He found himself captivated, his gaze following the young man’s every move.
Before he knew it, he was approaching the boy, extending his hand.
“I’m Wagner.”
The boy, who looked even younger than Wagner, smiled and shook his hand.
“I’m Iyerpol.”
That was how Wagner and Iyerpol first met.
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Have you ever felt deep admiration for someone?
A parent, a mentor, a hero.
Wagner had admired his father, a former adventurer. That admiration had fueled his dream.
Even after becoming an adventurer himself, he continued to admire his father. But he also discovered that he could admire someone even younger than himself.
Iyerpol.
The boy, despite his youth, was incredibly strong.
A skilled warrior and a formidable adventurer.
His blindness, rather than a hindrance, seemed to enhance his other senses, making him even more formidable.
It was a remarkable feat.
Perhaps this was how other adventurers had felt watching him, a young prodigy, in action.
He found himself admiring Iyerpol.
As time passed, Iyerpol’s fame grew.
He became known to some as “Iyerpol the Blind Swordsman,” his reputation spreading far and wide.
It’s said that people often feel jealousy or envy towards those of similar age and talent.
But Wagner knew Iyerpol was far more skilled than he was.
There was no room for jealousy.
He was a man of integrity, and he watched Iyerpol’s exploits with pure admiration.
After knowing Iyerpol for a little over a year, Wagner realized he wanted to adventure alongside him.
And to do that, he knew he had to give up his greatsword.
He willingly abandoned the weapon he cherished, taking up a shield instead, to protect his future party.
Then, he approached Iyerpol with a proposition.
“Let’s form a party, Iyer.”
Iyerpol, to his surprise, readily agreed.
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[Cave is the MVP of the party ngl]
