Otaku Translation: Lone Adventure V6C1

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Volume 6: Class Advancement

Chapter 1: The Battle Warrior's Advancement Quest (Part 1)

I’ve always believed that my life is a patchwork of coincidences, stitched together by some unseen hand. These moments seem to fall into place at just the right time, guiding me forward as if threading pearls onto a string, creating a smooth and unbroken narrative. Sometimes, I even entertain the strange thought that my existence might simply be a pre-written script, unfolding according to an invisible program, inching steadily toward its conclusion.

When these coincidences stack up one after another, nudging us onto certain paths and steering our choices, they take on a new name—fate. Yes, perhaps every subtle shift in our lives bows to the weight of destiny. It’s so light you barely notice it most days, yet it’s unyielding, breaking through resistance whether you comply or fight back. In the end, we all follow its lead.

At level thirty-five, I found myself in Reed City, a bustling commercial hub in the northwest of Delrania Kingdom. Nestled along the midstream banks of the Dawnlight River, it was the second-largest port in the region, teeming with trade and abundant resources.

You could call it chance—I just happened to arrive here at this moment. Had I leveled up faster or slower, I might have been holed up in some obscure corner instead of walking down the grand streets of this magnificent city. But when I delivered a parcel to Lieutenant Colonel Campbell, the city’s garrison commander, completing what I thought was my final task, I discovered something extraordinary. Standing beside him was a towering, fully armored woman radiating strength—a battle warrior trainer.

Call it coincidence? No, this felt like fate stepping in.

Long before reaching level thirty-five, I’d already decided my next step: to become a battle warrior. Back at Valor Fortress, I scoured every nook and cranny but couldn’t find a single battle warrior trainer. Just outside Reed City, fresh from slaying a mud beast and hitting level thirty-five, I worried about how long it would take to find someone who could guide me. And then she appeared—right there, as though the gods themselves had heard my plea and sent her to me.

“Hey, you,” she sneered as I approached, sizing me up with disdain. “Don’t think you’re anything special. You’re as fragile as a broken broomstick. I could snap your neck with one arm behind my back. Get lost unless you want to prove yourself.”

As much as it stung to have my strength questioned by a woman—especially one who might soon be teaching me combat skills—I swallowed my pride. For starters, Lieutenant Colonel Campbell and his entourage were standing nearby, and I doubted he’d let me cause trouble after delivering his friend’s gift. More importantly, instinct screamed danger. Despite her feminine frame, there was something lethal about her presence. Her shoulders were broad and powerful, her arms lean but defined with sinewy muscle. Even beneath her armor, her physique hinted at raw, explosive power.

And yes, I’ll admit it—I stole a glance at her chest. Not because I was ogling, mind you, but because… well, okay, maybe I ogled a little.

“I want to become a battle warrior,” I said solemnly.

“You’ll need to prove your courage first,” she replied, her tone mocking. “There’s a village called Albe to the north. A pack of trolls slaughtered its inhabitants and claimed it as their camp. We’ll deal with them eventually, but before that, Jeffrey Kidd, you must infiltrate their lair and retrieve their tribal banner. Bring it back to me, and only then will you earn the title of battle warrior.”

Trolls—once native to Falvy Continent—are now reviled across the land. Some say they share ancestry with elves, citing their pointed ears as evidence. Others claim their lineage aligns more closely with orcs, given their greenish-blue skin and prominent tusks. Regardless, two centuries ago, under the leadership of Mlak, the treacherous sorcerer known as the "Void Hand," the trolls allied with the Apocalyptic King, becoming instruments of destruction. Though many perished during Dedoran’s summoning of the Devouring Gate, scattered troll tribes remain, plaguing the continent as ruthless bandits and murderers.

Eager for revenge, I accepted the quest without hesitation. Following the trainer’s directions, I left Reed City and headed north. Soon enough, the ruins of a once-peaceful village came into view.

It must have been idyllic once. Simple stone cottages lined a southern hillside, basking in sunlight. Wheat fields stretched around them, bisected by a narrow path leading to an orchard farther uphill. There was a modest barn and livestock pen, shared by the handful of families who lived there. Most touching of all was the tiny temple dedicated to Darmos, the Supreme God, perched on a rise overlooking the village. Inside, villagers likely gathered weekly to pray and listen to sermons, bound not just by proximity but by friendship and kinship.

But now, the trolls had reduced it to rubble. Roofs were burned away, walls crumbled, doors and windows smashed. Scorched earth replaced fertile fields, and skeletal trees stood where fruit groves once thrived. Bones littered the animal pens, smoke curled from charred remains, and bloodstained weapons protruded from walls.

Clenching my fists against rising fury, I hid behind a blackened tree stump and surveyed the scene. The attackers belonged to the “Foul Axe” tribe, numbering over thirty trolls spread throughout the ruins. Most wielded crude axes, though a few robed shamans mingled among them. Their red fanged banner now defiled the temple altar, planted where the statue of Darmos once stood. The fallen statue’s cracked head lay near a wall, its face chipped and staring helplessly at a rat hole.

From my hiding spot, the distance to the temple was about fifty paces. Four troll guard posts blocked the way, each manned by two axe-wielding brutes and a shaman. Two pairs of patrolling trolls circled the area. Individually, they weren’t much stronger than me—level thirty-two or thirty-three fighters—but together, they’d tear me apart.

Rather than charge blindly, I waited, studying their movements. Gradually, a plan formed. The stationary guards were spaced loosely, leaving gaps I could exploit. With careful timing and cover from rocks and trees, I could slip past unnoticed. The patrols followed predictable routes, disappearing briefly behind the temple before looping back. If I timed it right, I could dash inside during their overlap.

After careful observation, I committed to the plan. Creeping along the slope to bypass the first guard post, I froze mid-step. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement—a muscular figure darting across the far side of the village.

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