Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.
Thank you.
Everyone from Otaku Translation
Previous | TOC | Next |
Chapter 18: Another Trace of History
The vast land slept in darkness, silent as if mourning the souls departed from its embrace. The starry sky seemed within hand's reach, with meteors streaking across the purplish-red half, fleeting like the names that once shone in the long river of history.
Breyson stood silently in the cold night wind, issuing command after command through his lips. The Guard Unit raced through the ruins of Green Village, exterminating the remaining enemies. All undead must be cleansed, all of them.
The young leader of the Guard Unit felt that only by doing so could he find some relief.
He checked the time; he had half an hour left.
Zeto watched from afar, shaking the glass flask in his hand and tapping the young man beside him. "You, are you Ethan?"
Ethan was taken aback slightly.
"I'm Zeto, want some?" He raised the flat flask. "Pure Clear Lake Fire Wine, Layens and I found it in a cellar. Unfortunately, after this war, who knows if we'll ever get to taste it again..."
He paused for a moment. "You know, I used to have a dream. I wanted to be the best scout. But now I regret it a bit."
Ethan found this person exceedingly odd, but he was curious why he would regret it. People wouldn't just regret things without reason after all.
"Why?" he asked.
"My biggest goal used to be spotting enemies because that's where my worth lay. But now, all I want to do is hide those villagers. At least then, they won't be killed. But you know, I'm powerless. I can't do anything—"
"It's not your fault."
"I'm a soldier," Zeto took a sip of wine. "When I saw that girl cry, I wished I could die on that battlefield like Coffanto. But I'm still alive, I can't escape."
The young man fell silent, for some reason, he subconsciously thought of Brandon. He had a strange feeling that the young man who led them out of trouble time and time again could lead them out of the shadows this time too.
Perhaps the premonition was true, and all difficulties would be overcome—
Hopefully. He thought.
...
Brandon and Freya sat together.
To be honest, Brandon didn't think he was good at comforting people. He felt that having someone else here might have a better effect, but that damn Breyson left with a sour face, and Ethan stayed far away. Wasn’t she his chief?
Fortunately, Freya quickly adjusted her mood. However, she stared blankly in a certain direction, her once bright eyes now filled with emptiness.
Brandon recognized that kind of emptiness; he had seen the same look in Valkyrie, suffused with a quiet sadness that seemed as though it could never dissipate.
Suddenly, he felt a pang of pity. Compared to her current state, he preferred the simple, gentle, yet determined Freya—the one who wouldn't hesitate to get angry over trivial matters.
But how could he broach the subject? He hesitated for a long time, but when the words reached his lips, they seemed feeble and pale. He had prepared several lines, but none of them felt right.
While he was struggling, Freya spoke first:
"Brandon," she called.
"Hmm?"
"Why do wars happen?"
Regarding this question, Brandon hadn't given it much serious thought before. In the game, conflicts erupted between major guilds over profit distribution, reputation, or even matters of pride. Meanwhile, wars between nations were driven by interests, sovereignty, and territorial disputes, with the specter of war ever-present.
In the past, he might have answered because humans, as creatures, were always driven by desire, yearning for conquest and plunder, thus constantly warring against each other.
But after everything he had experienced today, especially Freya's unforgettable, helpless sob etched into his heart, he suddenly realized the absurdity of such an answer—because no one could truly transcend their own affiliations. Humans were simultaneously fragile and resilient.
"Wars will always happen, we can only choose to accept them."
"We were born in a bad era; we cannot choose our time. But we can try to change it," Brandon replied, and as he spoke, he suddenly felt his mind broaden because of his own words: "Maybe we can't change much, but at least we have fought together with many people to achieve it—such memories are precious."
He recalled the days spent fighting for Eruin in the game, surrounded by numerous friends, like-minded comrades, and countless vows. Though everything ultimately dispersed, he harbored no regrets for the countless memories, despite the losses endured.
Those were memories belonging to Eruin.
Lingering in his mind, it kept him from forgetting for a long time.
The girl fell silent.
"Freya."
"Hmm?"
"You must love them very much."
"Yes." The girl answered, "After my father passed away, Aunt Syl has been taking care of me. They are proud of me. But so am I. I love them more than anything."
"It's just strange, why did fate choose you?" Brandon said.
"Hmm?"
"Freya, have you thought that maybe one day you will become the guardian of this land?"
"How is that possible, Brandon, are you making fun of me in secret." The girl was a little upset, but her voice immediately softened: "I just want to be a good chief, but my strength is limited. With only a little to offer, I can only fulfill my responsibilities. As for distant tasks, they are beyond my capabilities."
No, you've not only done it but done it well. Freya, you will be the last hero of Eruin and the one most fondly remembered by people.
Modest, serious, strong, kind-hearted. Heaven gave you ordinary talent but also gave you the best qualities and unique experiences.
Brandon thought to himself while turning the ebony Gargoyle statue in his hand over and over again. Frustrated by his inability to activate it, he gazed into the distance, sighing softly, "Freya, I don't know where you'll go in the future, but I want you to remember one thing."
"Hmm?"
"Do you know the word 'companion'? No matter how far you go, there are many people accompanying you. You will never be alone."
Freya was taken aback, and suddenly tears welled up in her eyes once more. She thought of Roma, thought of little Phineas, thought of Ethan and Markumi, thought of all the people in the Militia Third Squad.
Of course, there was Aunt Syl.
She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and looked up at the sky, where the night was divided into two by a fiery curtain. Green Village was being burned, its flames in the darkness seeming to herald an even greater catastrophe.
"Thank you," she replied softly, "shameless Brandon."
The unexpected remark caught Brandon off guard, prompting a coughing fit to erupt from him.
When his coughing fit subsided, he turned around and noticed Freya's eyes were now clear, shining like stars in the night sky, free from sadness. At that moment, he suddenly felt that his existence was still valuable. At least history had changed, hadn't it?
...
Breyson soon got what he wanted—food, medicine. Although Green Village was almost completely destroyed on the surface, finding these things wasn't difficult—undead didn't need food or medicine, so these things were just lying around.
Plus, they had Brandon.
Although Buchi, Weyburn, and Green Village were all within the jurisdiction of the Buchi Guard Unit, the young people in the Guard Unit were not as familiar with them as Brandon.
Drawing on past memories, Brandon easily found the secret cellars of two gentry manors. Inside were not only food and medicine but also supplies—iron, copper, even gold and silver. However, they couldn't take everything with them, so they had to seal the cellars intact, maybe they could use them in the future.
Of course, returning empty-handed from the treasure trove wasn't Brandon's style, especially not as a seasoned player. With the owners of these manors all perishing in the war, leaving no descendants behind, Brandon was aware that they were later ravaged by Madara's undead. These secret cellars had become the most coveted items for players; discovering one could yield a small fortune.
That was why he was so familiar with the locations of these cellars—players were always creatures driven by profit.
Although he couldn't take the big items, magical equipment couldn't be missed. To the astonishment of everyone, he unlocked several hidden compartments—mostly containing gold and silver jewelry, but he was disdainful of those things. In the game, these were all wealth, but on the battlefield, they were worthless except as a burden.
The young vice-chief frowned, looking at him suspiciously: When did this guy learn the tricks of a night thief? But with his personality, he wouldn't willingly descend into such degradation, would he?
At this moment, Brandon pulled out a set of half-body female armor from inside. It was a retro-style armor, with a bright surface adorned with intricate brass decorations, and the patterns where black and gold met indicated it was a work of art in the style of the Year of the Glorious Return.
But before people could take their eyes off this beautiful armor, Brandon pulled out a combat suit from somewhere else with a snap. Then he waved to Freya, "Freya, come over here."
"Hmm?" Freya was slightly taken aback.
"Try on this suit of armor."
"Wait a minute," Breyson couldn't help but mock, "Brandon, don't tell me you want Freya to wear that decoration into battle. Not all armor is meant for actual combat, you know?"
Brandon didn't bother to respond, he was ready to help Freya put on the combat suit. But the girl blushed and shook her head, taking the combat suit from him. "I, I'll do it myself."
He paused, realizing that in the game, there hadn't been so much fuss. He and his female knight and warrior companions had always helped each other put on armor. But he had forgotten that this was reality.
"What are you thinking?" Breyson asked as he saw Freya running off to the pile of wood alone, unable to help himself.
"What?"
"That's an art piece, too heavy. Besides, have you militia learned how to fight in armor?"
"Too heavy?" Brandon had never heard such a saying. He couldn't help but turn around and look at the young vice-chief of the guard, wondering if there was something wrong with his brain.
He didn't bother to explain further; he beckoned Freya over and helped her put on the combat suit. Then he asked, "How does it feel?"
"A bit heavy, not very agile."
The young people behind Breyson burst into laughter. It was an obvious piece of decoration; how could it not be heavy? Although most of the laughter was good-natured, there were also some malicious taunts.
Brandon ignored them, focusing on the combat suit and murmured, "s'taz."
The word was ancient, meaning wind.
In an instant, a layer of green light enveloped the half-body armor, and with a snap, it floated up from Freya's body, tightly protecting her.
The girl blinked in surprise, exclaiming, "This—?"
Brandon turned back, "the Half-Body Armor of the Wind Sovereign, imbued with wind element essence, someone actually described it as too heavy. I'm sure the elven craftsmen who designed this armor would not rest in peace even after death, if they heard such comments."
Breyson's face instnalty darkened, while the young knights behind him fell silent.
If you would like to support this translation, you may choose any one of the options below.
How to find a list of chapters
Please find the chapter label next to your favorite translator's name, and click the label.
No comments:
Post a Comment