Sunday, March 27, 2016

Volume 4 - Chapter 1 - (Title withheld) (Middle)

Previously on EC...

The reunion of Sekn and his countrymen face a problem, as the location where those people are kept are under attack. Sekn asks permission to enter the Princess' country to retrieve his brethren. Kun, upon seeing this, decides to join the expedition to as training for his irl students. The Princess agrees and they set off to the western part of the Norman Kingdom via the waterways. After arriving, Sekn went to secure the routes from their landing point to the settlements under siege while the Norman tries to recover their territories. Kun, along with a small team, heads off with the scout to Vesperheim, where a group of Pentian are being kept.
After getting some Cadejoes for himself and his Spec-Ops team, Kun rides just behind the Norman elven scouts that are leading the way. Trailing behind are the Norman infantries, led by the Norman commander.

“Commander, do you have a map of the area?”

“My apologies, Kun-dono. There’s only a rough map for merchant caravans to use.”

“Then are there any locals that know the area?”

“Fumu… If there’s anyone, it would be the scouts, these are the frontier area for us Normans. Only the local settlers or elves would know.”

“Alright, thank you Commander. Keep in formation and head for Vesperheim for now, I will notify you if there’s any change.”

“Yes, Kun-dono!” The Commander makes a stiff salute as Kun speeds up to catch up with the scouts.

“Commander…” A soldier walks up next to him. “Are we really going to follow the command of this… foreigner?”

“Adjutant, I’m only going to tell you this once. For your own sake, listen to that man and his fellows.” The Commander makes a solemn face, with awe in his eyes. The investigation by the 1st Army in regards to the ‘Faeries’ Night March’ ended anti-climatically when the Chief Strategist, Illna Faehaion of Her Highness, Eru Dioma Norman, sent in a concise report that clarified the whole situation and commanded the investigation to stand down. Those involved in the incident and the events prior to it could only speculate, but there were two generally accepted hypothesis due to the following observations.

1 - A Divinity intervened somehow due to the series of events that can’t be explained with coincidences.
2 - Whatever circumstances the 1st Princess was in leading up to the ‘Faeries’ Night March’, it has been resolved, as she has been the most carefree, beautiful and cheerful in years as testified by a retired servant of hers.
3 - The unconditional release of the ‘Suspected Foreign Spies’ upon the Princess’ enrollment of the newly established ‘Zinnia Academy’.
4 - Everyone in the Princess’ Guard has been tight-lipped, but they revere those running said Academy.
5 - The same reverence can be seen from the Sardonians and the upstart Feians, especially from the latter.

Thus there’s only 2 possibilities - either the Divinity resides within the Academy, or the Divinity’s Representatives do. These speculations are proven further when the Chief Strategist transferred her command to this unknown Lord, since under normal circumstances, only Norman high officials can hold the command as per law. The only exception would be for a member of the Royalty to transfer their control to someone deemed to have their trust, where the Representative themselves can represent the Royal member in question.

“Who’s in charge here?” Kun, riding up to the rear of the scouts with his handful of troops, shouts.

“That would be me, Lyfharic Faexcubit, Lord Commander.” A lean, middle-aged elf shouts back, signaling his troops before drifting off the riding group and slowing down to wait for Kun - before matching pace with him.

“Then Lyfharic, I was told your troop might have someone that knows the AO’s terrain?”

“AO? Sorry sir, what’s AO?” The group leader has a hunch, but from his long life, he learned that it’s always better to ask for clarification when in doubt.

“Ah… Right, sorry.” The young man answers sheepishly for forgetting the fact the unit is now a mixed group. He quickly resets his composure before continuing. “It means Area of Operation, it encompasses the area where a commander is to finish their assigned tasks.”

“Understood.” The group leader nods, shouting. “Caurumqustus!”

“Sir!” A scout riding at the front falls back at having his name called.

“Lord Commander wishes someone to explain the terrain around these parts!”

“Sir!” The scout then makes a quick salute with one hand to Kun before riding beside him on the opposite side of the group leader.

“If you need anything else, just yell or have someone relay the message, Lord Commander.” The elf salutes and then squeezes his thighs, causing the compact, stout horse of his to meet up with the scouts in front.

“Caurumqu… For the sake of expediency, can I just call you Caurum?”

The scout in question blinks his eyes in a sort of temporary confusion. “Um… just call me Kyle.”

[T/N: Don’t ask me how the hell Caurumqustus became Kyle, I can’t even imagine the process involved in doing so.]

“That’s actually much easier, alright Kyle, please tell me the terrains surrounding Vesperheim.”

“Certainly, Com- Lord Commander!”

“Eh~? You are serious~? Yes, please do so~ Just leave a message in my inbox if you can confirm it, thanks~!”

Till ends her PM with one of [Atonement]’s caravan mercenaries, they are currently escorting a caravan to the center part of the continent to sell some Sardonian wine. When the escort told the merchants that they found a buyer willing to buy up their entire stock, they were cautiously joyful. Merchants are cowardly by nature, in the sense that they are always careful in their dealings. ‘Check thrice, then twice more’ is one of the reasons why these merchants are willing to travel long distances to sell, they made sure that their products arrive intact throughout their career! Despite the fact that the escort is from [Atonement] which has a stellar reputation amongst all the legitimate traders, the merchants still fear that they would be robbed by them. It’s something unforeseen, a duck doesn’t just come to you carrying leek! Thus the merchants asked for some time to make a decision.

[T/N: 鴨が無を背負ってくる, a play on the proverb 鴨が葱を背負ってくる that says ‘A duck comes carrying leek on its back’, meaning to be very lucky. The 無 changes the meaning, saying the ‘A duck comes with nothing on its back’ which doesn’t really make sense in english. I could easily change it to ‘This sounds too good to be true’ or ‘There’s no free lunches in this world’ to reflect the merchant’s cautious attitude, but then the later part will have to be rewritten.]

[Atonement] is one of the first guilds to know what’s happening in the western edge of the Norman Kingdom, with numerous threads and discussions within the different divisions. ‘Where there’s war, there’s demand! Where there’s demand, there’s profit!’ Of course, the core members of the guild thinks differently. ‘Whenever the quartets are up to something, it’s always bound to be interesting!’. The rush within the guild to assist Till and company was therefore immediate upon her contacting them.

“Till-neesan, we are set!”

“Hmm~ Okay, do a test run and see if there’s any problem.”


The demihumans previously prepared several pieces of rope of varying lengths, running parallel in one direction. Since ropes aren’t normally as long as the lengths Till required, several of them are knotted together to make it hundreds of meters long.

“The ones holding the rope, brace yourselves. Casters, Go~!”

“““«Air Lance»!”””

*kaka kaka*
*sha* *kachi*

“““Humph!””” The stronger aerial demihumans snort with effort as they drop a few meters down as the parcels drag on the rope. The one holding the rope with the parcel that is flying off shot upwards abruptly as the opposing force disappears.

“That didn’t go so well… huh…”
“Weird… isn’t it supposed to go ‘fuwoosh’?”
“Why… did that last one snap?”

The demihumans who casted the spells look at the various parcels, three that eventually slid down the slope of the raised ropes, stopping at the slack of the ropes, after futilely rattling at various degrees due to them failing to be launched. The one parcel that managed to fly off the rope has its own rope that acted as the attachment to the main rope snapped when it encountered the slack.

“Hmm~” Till looks thoughtful as she drifts down from the sky with the demihumans holding the top end of the ropes, who then ties them to the branches of the tree where they previously set off from.

“Wah… Till-ne, the rope here looks burnt!” One of the young demihumans that’s observing from the side picks up the parcel with the snapped rope, inspecting the blackened, ripped ends.


“Right, friction!” The young girl mildly brings her hand to her forehead. “And the knots don’t help either… and stability… waahhh~ Why couldn’t I think of these things before hand.”


“Fumu~ It’s what makes things stick together, or when thing moves really fast against one another and things get hot~ Um~~ You remember that «Grind» spell?”

[E/N: Friction is actually just a measure of the resistive force from two objects sliding against each other (sandpaper against wood versus plastic against water)]

Some of the demihumans nod while a few have a ‘What’s that?’ look, whom get a quick explanation from those nearby.

“Remember how I warned you guys to not touch the sand after using it in the spell because they get really, really hot~? That isn’t caused by the spell, but a natural reaction due to friction~”

“““Ooooohhhhh!””” Those that learned the spell nods while the others just look on.

“Okay… hmmm~ Try and gather some metal rings or something similar, there’s not much we can do about the knots here, so let’s just solve the friction and stability problem first~”

“““Yes, big sis.”””

The demihumans fly about the town, asking the Norman troops there for any sort of metal rings, hinges, chains that they can use. After a while, they return to the main tree, holding various items in hand. Keyrings, axel clasps, the top of a broken anchor, an old pan with a large hole in the middle, the broken anchor-chain of a boat, the hoop from an old bucket, an old money box, hilts of broken swords, the metal handle of a massive pike, etc... various metal objects are piled under the tree.

[T/N: Ishman wants me to note this, the metal hilts on swords are a backward ass way of using hilts. Historically, they were only used in the bronze age or in regions where working a single piece of metal is preferable to making a sword in parts. Ie. For insanely hard to work with alloys, you’d see single piece swords. So for something like Mithril, it wouldn’t be backward for them to have metal hilts, but it would be if the material is easier to work with, like steel ]

“Alright, everyone~ Let’s make a bunch of different things, whoever gets the best result will get a full course meal cooked by Kun-ni when we get back~”


Elsewhere, east of Vesperheim’s outskirt, a young man sneezes so hard, he nearly falls off his cadejo mount, causing everyone to look at him with concern. ‘Can one even get a cold in the game?’ drifts through some of his team members’ mind.

“«Earth Pillar»!”
“«Metal Claw»! Alright, keep it steady, we almost had it with that last mold.”
“Ka’lid-niisan, I don’t think Earth Pillar can be used as a mold like this.”
“Just hold still!”


A team of students are melting metal scraps and trying to make a metal basket with metal hoops on top.

“«Air Hammer»!”

*Kan kan*

Another team is reshaping long pieces of metal into loops as well as reinforcing small, rusted rings from axel clasps, buckets and barrels.

“Just bend it slightly, don’t fold it!”
“Quit your nagging!”


*shiiuuu shiiuuuuuu*

A team consisting of younger demihumans are carefully grinding down thick bits of metal with preexisting holes in them, as well as polishing off the rust.

The occasional Norman troops would look over with disdain, seeing them doing little more than playing around. Of course, they couldn’t do anything about it as Illna’s quick glance in the troops direction would send them panicking, going back to whatever their task was. The strategist herself was curious as to what they were doing, but she’s too busy sending out orders, inspecting and organizing the rear to investigate.

“Test number 17~ Go!”

“«Air Lance»!”

*dan* *ga ga*

A dangling, box-like object is sent flying downwards, occasionally skipping up as it leaps over the knots in the rope. The cargo compartment looks like a box without its sides save for its front and back panels, like a metal skeleton of a crate. The part that traverses along the rope is made of a trimmed broken pike handle - a hollow cylinder with one of its sides cut off -, with the length slightly bent into a wide obtuse angle. The back is longer to rest on the rope, while the front is shorter and pointed upward, with a curled lip, to guide any knots under it to prevent snags. The ring, which the rope is threaded through, is welded into the modified handle to make it glide on the rope while acting as the anchor, with the crate-like contraption hanging directly below it. The item is secured with ropes between the front and back panels, preventing it from being damaged from the jolts and jerks.

*Kin* *Fuwu*

The carrier’s metal ring rattles, the change of momentum at the end of the slack causes the ski-like guide on top to skip a little through the air, before banking and making a complete rotation before it proceeds to the end of the rope with a *DAKU* and minor *ga ga* rattling sound.


“Damn it!”
“Noo, my meat!”
“Hmm… so that’s how it works…”

The team of demihumans who just passed the test are celebrating, while the others are in various states of disappointment, with a few of them sharing a thoughtful look.

“Alright, you all go get supper ready and get some rest~ I will inform Illna with these ones here.”

“Yes, big sis…”
“Come on, stop sulking and get a move on.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”
“Meat! Meat! Meat!”

Most of the demihumans fly off to their designated area near the port, causing some of the Normans to turn their head.

“Ms. Strategist~ Can I borrow a moment of your time~?”

“Hmmm? Ah, one moment please.” The elven woman turns her head to the unexpected voice, before turning back toward her subordinate, giving up some final instructions before sending him off. “What can I help you with, Your Ladyship?”

“Headquarters’ communications have been established~ Thought you would like to take a look?”

“Headquarters’ communications…? Is that what the children were doing?” Illna looks a little doubtful, she’s aware that the demihumans have ran off with scraps of metal objects and vast lengths of rope, but she couldn’t imagine how a headquarters would need those items.

“Pardon me, Ms. Illna.” The demihuman dips his head slightly as he picks her up in a princess carry before unfurling his massive wings. He’s known as the slowest flier amongst the students due to his build, but his wings boast the most power as well as the best ability when it comes to gliding. With several *fupu fupu*, he lifts off toward the canopy, as Till and the three other demihumans follow from behind.

The Norman troops that spot this assume their Commander is being abducted, ready to sound the alerts, but a quick wave and stern look from the slightly baffled elven woman causes them to stand down. The confused troops keep their eyes on her, until the group breaks through the canopy. Without any delay, the more agile of the troops immediately start climbing toward the treetops, to see what’s going on.

“Till-ne, here’s the rope and the carrier.”

“Thanks~ Okay, watch this~”

Illna’s eyes look on with uncertainty, there’s a long length of rope that disappears into the jungle below and a weird metal crate with the rope running through the top.

“«Air Lance»!” Till fires the spell at the crate-like object with a *kan*, sending it speeding down the drooping rope. The rope slackens as the demihuman temporarily drops down from the sudden force before he raises it back up to its original position. The contraption travels down the rope with some irregular motion, before reaching the end with a *DAKU*. The few soldiers that managed to reached the treetop look at the rope and the source of the sound with a look of confusion on their face.

Silence hangs in the air, with the rustling from the evening wind stirring the atmosphere.

“This… This!” The strategist moves around excitedly after processing what she has just witnessed.

“Woah! Ms. Illna, please stop that!” The demihuman carrying the elven woman flaps his wings.

“Your Ladyship!” Illna speaks to Till with urgency in her voice, the excitement obvious in her eyes.

Till smiles coyishly, pleased with the result. She likes smart people, moreso, she likes smart people that are true to themselves. That’s why she actually enjoys visiting her mom’s workplace despite hating school. The woman in front of her must have realized the potential of this contraption for her to act this way.

“Let’s go back down first, can the two of you send the carrier back~?”

““Yes, Till-ne!”” Two of the demihumans fly off towards the anchored end of the rope, while the one that is still holding onto the rope drifts down and ties it to a large branch of the towering tree below.

“You can send it back?! Wait, of course you can send it back! How far can the rope reach? Wait, wait, how much can it carry? We don’t have «Wind Mage»s here… Can we use another type of spell?” The elven woman fires off one question after another, her excited voice making the student carrying her have a humming resound in his ear.

“Calm down~ This is just a prototype, we will sort everything afterward~ Let’s have the kids go take their meal first~”

Illna shifts uncomfortably as they make their way back down. ‘This is just a prototype? That means it can be improved?’ Different thoughts are rampaging within her mind. The Normans have always fought in the jungle; mobility, supply and communications were always an issue. Although their infantry have adapted to fighting in the uneven, treacherous terrain, that’s only relative to foreigners that rarely, if ever, fought in the jungle. There were always ideas floating around on how to fix these issues, but like with all things, ideas are easy to boast about, yet ultimately, it’s only the execution that matters.

The unique characteristic of the jungle environment caused the Norman strategists, tacticians and thinkers to develop their own unique train of thoughts. A Feian would only be mildly interested in the rope system, since their battles were fought on the plains. The Sardonians would probably be interested in having an alternative method of transport through mountainous terrain.

There’s also the aerial reconnaissance aspect, which is something to be desired, since it can easily expose the weaknesses within the enemies’ formation. If it wasn’t for the fact that it’d be a death sentence for whoever is in the air should hostile ranged units spot them, they would still be a clay pigeon waiting to be shot.

[T/N: Clay pigeon are those those thrown/launched targets you see people shoot at in certain sport shooting range. I could’ve easily changed it to ‘sitting duck’, but the imagery would be lost as a sitting duck isn’t out in the open, in the air, totally defenseless :3]

But the Normans are different. In the jungle, with its few clearings and dense canopy, having an aerial view is pointless since they will only see leaves. But unlike the plains where transport is easy, or the mountains where specialized equipment can be used to speed up travel, there were simply no good ways for transport aside from using the numerous rivers snaking through the jungle. A dedicated trolley system would take too many resources for too little return, unlike a harbour that can act as both a hub, market and a way to gather food through fisheries. In times of war, a trolley system would be a liability, as it would allow invaders to just follow its route instead of muddling through the jungle, where disorientation and confusion can easily lend themselves to ambushes - this is why Norman forts are built underground or partially underground near waterways with alarm systems, being able to launch attacks undetected is more important than having a fortified position, the jungle itself would be one’s ally if one knows how to utilize it. In the same way, the rather simple ‘line system’ also lend itself to being undetectable. Not even the other, various Norman armies would think to look above the canopy, thus it can be deployed undetected. The system has the advantages of a trolley system without any of the major drawback, the maintenance primarily concerns the wear and tear of the rope, the contraption and the personnel. There’s the drawback of a limited weight allowance, but for the sake of communication or deliveries of small items, its speed easily surpasses the fastest of messengers by many folds.

[T/N: Rope can decay really fast in the jungle, even with metal materials]

“Thank you.” Illna hops off the demihuman carrying her. “Please, go have your supper with your fellows.” She carries an impatient attitude, but not an ungrateful one. She orders the soldiers that have run up and loosely surrounded them to resume their tasks with a frown: it’s good that they are worried about her, but not to this extent, these people are allies - allies that are Emissaries of a God. To offend them with such a lack of trust is just asking for trouble. She throws the worries to the back of her mind as she makes her way to Till. “Your Ladyship, would you do me the honour of dining together? I believe we should get things sorted out as soon as possible.”

The smiling little girl nods, gesturing for the remaining demihumans to go ahead. Before she can reply, a hum appears in her ears, causing her to hold a hand up to Illna to signal that she needs to wait a moment as she attends to the PM.

“Till, we are bringing the supplies, gives us two-days in-game. Can you give us the location?”

“Eh~ What made them decide to agree so fast all of the sudden?”

“Eh… umm… You see, we were making camp to prepare supper and then all of a sudden, a duck fell into the cauldron of boiling water…”

“… Was it carrying leek?”

“No… we were going to make leek and potato soup though…”




“Hello?” The man that’s escorting the merchants seeks confirmation from Till, whose mind had wandered trying to calculate the odds necessary for that to happen.

“Erm~ I will send a message to your inbox after talking it over with the Commander in charge over here~”

“Looking forward to it, be seeing you!”

The girl with the aquamarine hair drops her hand from her right ear, turning her attention to the elven woman fidgeting on the side. “I’ve just received news~ A caravan is willing to bring their wine here, what route should I send them to get them here?”

Caught completely off guard by the sudden question, Illna stammers for a moment. “Erm… Ah… Ur… Right, send them to the Africum checkpoint, I will have a border unit escort them to a harbour and bring them here. Is that alright?” She tilts her head slightly, vaguely recalling Kun asking for wine when they were splitting up earlier. “Is there a reason that so much wine is required…?”

“I think…” Till temporarily stops moving her hands in mid-air, leaving the message to the [Atonement] contact half finished. “Kun-ni might be planning to make either a weapon or medicine with them, maybe both~” She resumes her typing and finishes the message in a flash. “Alright, let’s go have our meal too~”

“Yes! Right this way!” Illna personally escorts the girl to the dining area, causing some soldiers to look on with curiousity.

* * * * *

“How’s the situation?”

“Our men are tired, less than 20% of them can still fight at full strength.”

“Damn those cowards… not giving us a chance to rest these past few days.” The bear-like demihuman growls deeply, his scarred covered arms throbbing, threatening to reopen the roughly stitched together wounds.

“Sir Go’ranth… You should take your colleagues and leave this place, you all did more than enough for us already.” A worn out, slightly rotund human says with a sad smile. The rest of the Normans within the makeshift headquarters of the Vesperheim militia make an uneasy face, some even have an expression of desperation at the words of middle-aged man.

“You know we can’t do that, Foreman.”

“Our kingdom treated you lot poorly, you guys shouldn’t have to perish with us.” The rotund man sighs before continuing. “The mountains are tall, the Emperor is far. What Royalists? What Republicans? In the end, we still suffer! Where the hell was the garrison that was stationed here?! We break our back to expand the frontiers for them, yet at the first sign of trouble, they are nowhere to be seen!” The rest of the settlers look grim.

[T/N: 山は高く、皇帝は遠い caught me a little offguard, it bugged me for a while as to why it sounds so familiar. Turns out it’s the japanese transliteration of the chinese idiom of 山高皇帝遠. Go figure.]

“Mr. Procyon, calm yourself… those are mutinous words.” One of the the cowardly men tries to pacify the man.

“So what if they are?! They can come behead me if they want, they’d have to get through those fucking barbarians first!” The foreman’s outburst silences the cowardly man.

“Sir Go’ranth, we can’t do it, but maybe with your fellow beastkins, it’s probably possible to bring the rest of your human fellows with you away from here. Scale the southern chasm and jump into the river, it should carry you east to one of the tributaries.”

The bear-like demihuman lifts up a hand. “You are right.” His agreement causes some of the settlers to shake, fearing abandonment. “‘The mountains are tall, the Emperor is far.’ That’s why we are fighting here, it isn’t for the Kingdom. The Kingdom might have treated us as criminals, but you stinking lot treated us well! We won’t abandon those that stood by us, never again!”

The surrounding Pentians nod solemnly, recalling the chaotic scene of evacuation from their own Kingdom. Their fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, cousins, friends, neighbours, those that could fight effectively, stood against the fanatic human hordes that tried to extinguish their existence. It was a last stand by those soldiers that allowed them to escape; the regret and helplessness scars them to the bone to this day. When they arrived, they were immediately accused of being spies and sent off to settlements as penal labourers, it was the locals that scrambled, searching for herbs and plants to treat their sudden illness. When the authorities failed to provide proper shelter and food, it was the settlers that fought for their amenities.

The settlers are a robust lot, they only care about if someone’s willing to work, if someone’s willing to contribute, nothing more, nothing less. Taking sides? Royalists? Republicans? The cloak and dagger of the Nobilities? Normans? Sardonians? Elves? Humans? Beastkins? That has absolutely nothing to do with them. Work the land, prosperity follows! Plant a tree now, your descendant will enjoy the fruits later! ‘Live and let live!’ is their motto at the frontiers, and it served them well. Even with the barbarians, by not going too far in retaliation, the barbarians would only go as far as pillaging, never kidnapping or killing, at least until now.

“Umm… Sir!” A teenage boy in tattered cloth salutes poorly as he enters the room with others similar to himself, breaking the solemn silence.

“Yes, what is it, boy? And stop it with the salute, we aren’t the military.”

“Ophi, go!” The teenager pushes a filthy looking kid to the front.

“Ah… umm… I ah…”

“Take a deep breath, then speak.”

The boy breathes in deeply. “Therewasthisshininglightfromtwodaysagothatwethoughtitwasjust-”

“Stop, stop, stop, calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Then speak normally.” The tensed boy’s actions somehow managed to make the adults lose their tension, some even crack a small smile.

*huuu* *fuuu*

“There was this shining light from two days ago. I thought it was just the clouds and my eyes playing trick on me, it was there yesterday as well, when I told it to the guard uncle, the shining was gone and I got scolded. But but but it was here again, so I grab this guard bro and he saw it too. We thought it might be something important, but we don’t know enough so another bro said to call you old gee- you adults to take a look! It is still there, if it’s the same as the last few days, it will be there for a while still.”

Procyon turns to one of the settlers resting on the floor. “When was the last attack?”

“About 2 hours ago.”

“Then we should have about an hour left before they come again. Okay, get Diuau and send him with the boys and see what this is about.”

“This way, this way!”

“Huh… isn’t this the western side? You kids do know that it’s impassable bog beyond the palisade right?”

“We know, but the light is from beyond the bog.”

The elf with the dirty blond hair follows, wondering what it could be. The group reaches the piles of dried plant husks where the light was last spotted. The kids stroll around, looking into the distant trees with their hands on their forehead, blocking off the noon’s rays. The elf stands around as he makes careful scans of the trees above the palisade, looking for anything out of the ordinary.


A glimmering silver suddenly flashes into the settlement, as though waiting for them to get back. The elf opens his eyes wide to take in extra light to see the outline of the figure, before narrowing his eyes to see the finer details.

“Get Procyon, get him, now! Go!” The elf orders the kids, to which they immediately set off for the large building in the middle of the settlement.

“Are you sure about this?” Go’ranth asks the elf, with the setting sun leaking in from the louvre windows.

“No, I’m not, but that’s my best guess.”

“And what did Procyon say?” The bear-esque demihuman points to the rotund lump of muscle sleeping in the corner.

“That he trusts my eyes. The human I saw I’m not sure of, but the elf is definitely one of ours, probably one of the Procella brothers I think?”

“So then we really have reinforcements coming from the north, the question is, what did those double flash mean…”

“It means the main force will be here in two days.” A voice suddenly answers from the window.

*shin* *shin* *shin*

Everyone in the room starts drawing their weapon, causing those sleeping to wake up with a start.

“I work with Sekn, if anyone here knows him, please confirm. I’m going to keep my hands up and walk to the front.”

The Pentians open their eyes wide at the name, quickly causing them to wave their hands to calm their Norman counterparts. A young man with black hair carrying a backpack enters through the front door, his hands at the height of his head. The settlers quickly surround him with their weapons drawn, keeping a decent distance away from this newcomer.

“Who are you?” A tired voice asks from the corner of the room.

“My name is Kun, I’m here with Sekn and Lady Illna Faehaion in relieving the siege of the three settlements.”

“What proof do you have?” Go’ranth asks with a slightly hopeful voice.

“Blind, Echo, the ‘Taskmaster’ is working in our kitchen. Eh… I might have to step on your stomach with you on your back if you don’t believe me -umph!” Before Kun can react, Go’ranth tackles him with a hug, with other demihumans and humans of the Pent Kingdom joining onto the pile.

“Where are they?”
“Are they alright?”
“How many are with you?”
*kunka kunka*
“There’s the Dog tribe… and a lot more?!”
“Is Levolas there?!”

[T/N: fyi Kunka is the sfx for sniff]

“Um… I think you all might want to put him down first.” Procyon watches the sniffing demihumans, questioning humans and the ever increasing numbers of Pentian rushing in from who-knows-where. The 10 by 10 meters room of the headquarters quickly went from being occupied by a dozen to filled with thrice that in a mere moment.

*geho geho*

“Give him room, give him room!” Go’ranth quickly grabs a pouch of water from the nearby table and offers it to a coughing Kun with a push.

A bull-like demihuman gives the bearman a quick shove. “You are the one that needs to give him room, you nearly squeezed the life out of him!”

“AHAHAHAHAHA! My bad, Bosim, my bad!” Go’ranth laughs unapologetically in a booming voice, the good news is so great that the fact they are under siege doesn’t seem to matter as much.

“Get back to rest, we don’t know if they are going to try another night raid.” The bullman starts ordering the people who are surrounding Kun. The gathered Pentians shift a little uncomfortably, the regular settlers also start to crowd from outside the headquarters, wondering what the commotion is about. “He isn’t going anywhere, not unless he can waltz pass that army out front! The bunch there sniffed him plenty, go bug them in the meantime. We will share the news anyhow, go!” He points at a few of the nearby demihumans who share a joyous expression.


Kun exhales sharply after sipping the water. “I should’ve seen that coming…” He complains a little as he remembers how Bell was greeted when they first met Sekn. “We only know Sekn, the people from the Princess’ Guard and old lady Defaye.”

“Eh? One of the Great Mages made it out? How is she?” Bosim asks with a note of pleasant surprise.

“Dead.” Kun answers it bluntly. “Look, I know you all want to meet up with the others, but I think we have some urgent matters to take care of first.”

“Right, umm… I didn’t quite catch your name.” Procyon chimes in.

“Just call me Kun.”

“Alright, Kun, first things first… How did you get here?”

“I circled around the bog and headed to the south before scaling up the canyon cliff.”

The rotund man’s eyes bulge. “Can… can we use that as a retreat route?” It was the same route he suggested to the Pentians hours before.

“I doubt it… I nearly fell down two thirds of the way up, the way up is full of choss and the crux is all face climbing, going down is probably a lot worse.”


“The cliff is full of bad rocks for climbing and the hardest part is almost completely smooth and vertical.”

“Ah.” The man’s face sours at the news, the excitement leaving his tired, wary face.

“I heard you guys managed to rout the enemy the first time. What happened?”

Go’ranth and Bosim grimace slightly at the mention of it.

“There’s a mountain path, the only path really, leading down to the Badlands to the west. To the north, is a road leading back to Norman territories. The first time, the beastkins pushed the invaders out from the western entrance of the town and effectively stopped them at the path. But a few days later, they somehow found a way to the northern road and invaded from both directions, leading to the current state.” Procyon shakes his head as he elaborates on this.

“Then how did you all manage to last this long?” Kun scrunches his brows, he had already received reports on how the invaders are sending in waves of attackers every few hours. By all rights, the palisade shouldn’t be standing and there should be more collateral damage and deaths.

[T/N: Emphasis on deaths, remember previously how the foreman was saying the barbarians only going as far as pillaging? Yeah, keep an eye on that. It seems to indicate deaths occurred elsewhere, but not here.]

“We work in shifts, the fighting force is supported by the young and the old, as you can see with that bunch of snot-nosed brats.” Bosim points his thumb out the door.

Kun remains unconvinced, since there were no deaths or heavy injuries. After talking further without getting any more useful information, Kun let them rest after getting someone to escort him and to introduce him to the rest of the settlers to inspect the settlement.

“Night raid! Night raid!” A youth with a tender face screams at the top of his lungs as he runs down the main dirt road of the settlement, after spotting the torchlight in the distance.

“Go, go, go!”

Four squads with a mix of humans and demihumans rush out from the buildings, the sentries posted along the palisade climb up onto the four guard towers made of logs that protect the settlement’s two entrances, with two at each entrance. It didn’t take long for the warm light of the torches to spread throughout the northern and western sides of the settlement.

“Throwers, ready!” A voice booms in the night, commanding those in the guard towers.


“Charge!!!” Someone commands from beyond the torches.


As soon as the men wielding torches and clubs rush through the entrance, stones and pieces of wood fly through the air, striking the surging mass below.


Wood and metal collides, the Norman side, wielding farming instruments and makeshift armours, meet the clubs and torches head-on, with the demihumans acting as a shock troop with tables, boards, doors, etc… while the rest support with their hoes and pitchforks, blocking and protecting them from behind to prevent them from being stricken in the vitals. The guards manning the guard towers continue to pelt the enemy, careful to avoid aiming at the violent, shifting frontline.

“Tsk! That’s enough, retreat, retreat!” The voice in the dark comes out once more.

“Err…?” The men with the torches mutter with a slight confusion in their voice, before carefully backing away and disengaging from the defenders. Their naked upper bodies are dotted with blood from cuts and splinters, their rags which barely pass for a loincloth are hanging on by a thread. The Norman side likewise regroup themselves, with the demihumans seemingly larger than life, casting large shadows where sharp instruments protrude in its wake.

As the two sides retreat, a young man crouching atop the lone smithy in the settlement looks on, a perplexed expression on his face. He silently makes his way down as he tries to assess the situation.

* * * * *

“Sir! Information are coming in, there’s an army several thousands strong laying siege to Hellasheim.”

“What about Vesperheim?!”

“Sir! Kun-sensei and his unit has reported unusual activity there since his arrival inside the settlement yesterday, he has deduced that Vesperheim isn’t their primary target and is only being suppressed for strategic reasons.”

“Alright, shift our men from the other two routes and focus on Hellasheim. Can we rush in and save Vesperheim ourselves?”

“Won’t work, Commander. We will need their infantry, our cadejoes can move fine in the jungle, but they have no charging power due to the shape of the terrain. It doesn’t help that the enemies made ‘Chevaux de Frise’ around their camps…” Echo explains with regret.

[T/N: Chevaux de Frise are those fences that looks like a row of Xs being skewered by a log used to block cavalry charge. This… took me, FOREVER. Obscure as fuck, my googlefu and the nip. Japanese Wiki doesn’t have anything on it. Native germans, poles, frenchsticks and spanish couldn’t figure it, it took a bloody doped up BRIT to figure it out to be chevaux == horses and then I just took it from there. Thanks cakeskull m(_ _)m If y’all are maso enough and want to take a shot at it, here’s the raw チェボークス.デ.フリーゼ]

Sekn furrows his brows. “Why in the… why would they make them? It isn’t like the Normans can charge… unless… Ah! It’s them!” He nods sagely with a smile.

Echo tilts his head for a moment before a similar expression appears on his face.

* * * * *

“Ma’am! Here are the reports!” The messenger presents a tray with numerous vellum and hide scrolls threatening to spill over onto the floor, his head bowed slightly.

“Good job, anything I need to know right away?” She flicks her wrist, signaling a page to receive the material, who then places them on her table.

“Yes, Ma’am! The foreign-” The messenger quickly rephrases his words after noticing the menacing stare Illna gives him. “Lord Kun reported that Vesperheim is being merely suppressed, the enemy are keeping it in check. He hypothesizes that Vesperheim is likely one of the routes the enemy is using as a supply line or escape route. Since they didn’t deal a decisive blow to Vesperheim, he guesses that the enemy lack the ability or manpower to do so.”


“And our elven scouts have confirmed it, there are numerous rope ladders going down the cliff into the Badlands from the road north of Vesperheim.”

“So they are bypassing Vesperheim…”

“Also, only Hellasheim is under the threat of annihilation. The locals at Tharsis-Ridges caused landslides after the initial clash, the enemy pulled back after having a number of their infantry buried alive.”

“Good work, get some rest and then resume your duties!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Illna picks up a scroll from the tray and proceeds to read it while placing stone markers onto the map on the table.


Illna sighs, stretching her back and limbs as she gets up from the table, facing the final rays of the absent sun. She has been giving orders, going through reports and consulting with the Commanders on the ground. The rope system, tentatively called the ‘tethered messenger’, was met with enthusiasm when it was shown to her messengers in the morning. Immediately, the students were deployed along the secured routes. Without a hitch, it came to be used before it was even noon. The system got further refined when Sekn’s company caught sight of it, who then talked amongst themselves on their break before suggesting that they replace the ring with pulleys instead once single, continuous ropes become available. Additionally, a bell or something similar should be attached, so that it doesn’t need to be always manned. But, even with just the prototype, the speed of relaying the message increased by a staggering amount. Messages that would take hours now take less than one, thus the reports from the scouts and the frontline become more detailed and relevant as not a lot of time has passed.

[T/N: Messenger posts are always posted -posted means being attended by someone- because someone always needs to keep an eye to see if a message arrives. With a bell, it will notify someone when it arrives instead. Think of it like those doorbells at the shops that rings whenever a customer walks in and grab the worker’s attention, this way you don’t need a greeter standing at the door… unless you are walmart.]
[E/N: Or a luxurious store who can afford to have hot wenches helping relieve wealthy people of their dosh]

The restriction that the students aren’t allowed to be stationed at battlegrounds and not be stationed through the night slightly dampens the system, with the lower rank officers criticizing the demihumans. True, the deployed range of the system doesn’t directly reach the frontline; not being able to utilize this new tool to its utmost is a shame, but without the students, they wouldn’t even have a system to work with. Not to mention, they simply don’t have that many lengths of usable rope nor do they have enough people to man the necessary breaks between the ropes. The various Norman armies only have a few personnel capable of using «Wind Spell»s and none of them are here. Without the ability to fly into the air and launch the contraptions, the system might as well be useless scraps. When a few of the more level-headed messengers and captains mentioned this, the critical officers either shut up or redirected their criticism towards them, calling them ‘foreign sympathizers’. This, of course, is noted by Illna, who has long realized how backwards their Kingdom really is.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they were rescued by the Emissaries, they wouldn’t even be exposed to the ideas that the Feians and Sardonians were enriched with. The Feians seem to be especially attached to the Academy, according to their intelligence gatherers, to the point of worship. The Sardonian King even sent his son and daughter, along with the up and coming Knight of the Donavic House as their guard. With that in mind, Illna immediately drafted a letter, to be sent with the fastest horse, to Olympia. This isn’t related to the current battle, but to her eyes, it may be key to the Norman Kingdom’s future.

[T/N: No, you aren’t going crazy, she hasn’t shown up in the story yet nor did she appear during the school festival.]


The elven woman shakes her head, wondering how many times she sighed today. Giving up, she remembers that she was getting ready to have supper before stopping and went to write that letter. Quickly, she drags her fatigued body and mind to the mess stations of the regular troops, unwilling to stay within her own quarters much longer. A craving for the revitalizing Tea hits her mid-stride, making her wonder if she could get some from the demihumans.

* * * * *

“What, in the name of the Fae, are you doing, Captain?!” A stern looking man rides up to the man sitting almost naked in a stream, along with his men. The ears of his horse flickering and twitching uncomfortably.

“I’m just letting my troop rest from the heat before we run those barbarians under.” The man replies with a wry smirk.

“Didn’t you receive the report? There are signs that the enemies are lurking about.”

“Ha! And you believe those damn foreigners and their so called ‘Spacu-Oppsu’?” The man answers sarcastically, not putting the Commander in his eyes.

“Hmph! You better take responsibility if something hap-”

*pyu* *Guku*

An arrow flies through the air, landing squarely in the throat of a half-naked soldier in the stream a bit away from the Commander. The man reaches out with his hand using his dying breath at the Captain, staring at him until the light disappears from his eyes.

*pyu* *pyu* *pyu*

“AMBUSH!” The men behind the Commander immediately form a ring around him, while he slips half-way off the stout, stocky horse, hanging onto the horse’s flank. The horse in question lowers its head according to its training, following the flow of the soldiers.

“Wait! Help!”
“Save us!”

The exposed soldiers scream for help as they dive for their armour, suffering arrows after arrows from the trees in the distance. The still armoured soldiers escape into the woods in an orderly fashion, using the trees as cover as they move away from the stream. Arrows only work in certain situations, outside of clearings and waterways, the foliage will make the arrows less effective.

“Sir! There’s enemies at our wings!” A messenger manages to squeeze inside the ring of soldiers and reports.

[T/N: Wings are the leading side formations of any army, this is slightly different from flank, which is the direct side of the army. Wings were usually formed to protect the center formation’s flank.]

Seeing the situation is now slightly safer, he swings his body back up, sitting upright on the mount. “Fuck! How many?!”

“We don’t know! But we are being overrun!”

“That isn’t possible, these barbarians can’t be better than us in the jungle! That useless fucker, argh!” The Commander curses at that useless Captain, if it weren’t for that man’s House backing him, he would have already executed him for insubordination. The man takes a deep breath, calming himself.

Only a Norman can best a Norman in these jungles. The Commander’s eyes turn fierce as he comes to that conclusion. They could’ve waited until we passed them and then strike us in the rear… But by doing this, they want us to retreat!

“We can’t remain here in the jungle anymore, we will pretend to charge into the ambushers and then head toward Vesperheim and use the fortification there to regroup. Adjutant!”

“Sir!” An alert soldier scanning the trees right next to the commander’s horse answers.

“Take a squad of light infantries and try to contact the scouts, they should be at one of the locations that Lord Kun asked about. Report the situation to the Chief Strategist and then standby!”

The Adjutant shifts uncomfortably while accepting the orders. This is just short of abandoning his commanding officer, but he’s well aware that the situation is dire enough for the Commander to issue such an order.


“Third line! Open! Fourth line! Wedge!”

“Archers! Confirm!”

“Infantries, retreat!”

The infantries at the front splits to the sides before falling back, using trees and undergrowth as cover, disengaging from the half-naked men attacking them. The soldiers behind those immediately rush forward like a flexible wall, pushing the barbarians to the sides. With the shortbow archers in position, the soldiers retreat, following those before them.

*pyu* *pyu* *pyu* *pyu* …

The Norman infantry steadily makes their way toward Vesperheim, aside from the initial ambush, casualties have been minimal. The archers would split into squads, climbing up trees whenever the spearmen and swordsmen engage in battle, before releasing flat shots as the melee soldiers retreat to avoid friendly fire. The melee soldiers are divided into lines, where they maintain a loose formation before crashing forward as a wave. The charging power is comparatively weak when compared to conventional line charges done by the Sardonians and the Feians, but it’s extremely mobile and flexible. If one were to compare, the Sardonians would be like a gust of wind blowing across the meadow, cutting across the battlefield. The Feians, a landslide that come down hard and stay firmly rooted. The Normans, the endless waves lapping at the shore, wearing down even the steepest cliffs overtime.

[T/N: フラット.ショット - another obscure term. Good thing it’s straight forward, which made identifying it much easier… relatively speaking >.> Flat shots are shots that archers has a direct shot at, as opposed to a volley, where they aim into the air and have them drop down from above. What Rick did against the wolves in the 1st volume would be a volley. It should be noted that flat shots are relatively rare in combat history, except for archers defending a fortification since they have high ground superiority.]

“Sir! There are some platforms ahead going over the cliff.”

“Ignore them for now! Vesperheim is near, it should be around this bend! First line, ready! Fifth line, press forward!”


“Your Highness, the Normans are approaching! Your orders!” A muscular old man wearing a long, white beard stands before a muscular youth who is two heads taller than him.
“Repel them! Send the spearmens! We must keep this path secured!”
“Fumu… Yes, my Prince!” The old man sighs before replying, lamenting the current situation. A moment later, he billows out. “Send out the Quant’ongs!”

“Procyon! There’s fighting to the north!” An uncle barges into the headquarter building.

“Good! Keep an eye on the situation, I will organize everyone else! Bosim, you are in reserve, keep resting. Go’ranth, I’ll leave the westside to you!”


“Not good!” Kun mutters as he stares at the clashes within the trees. He kept observing the situation after sending off a messenger to Procyon. “Ready the throwers! I’m going to help rescue them!”

“Rescue?” One of the guards asks absentmindedly as he watches the young man leap over the railing and swing down the logs like a monkey, bypassing the ladder altogether.

“Procyon! Good! Form a line and clear a path for the infantries to retreat!” Kun calls out to the rotund man, who is leading a mixed group of people.

“Wait… what?! Aren’t they supposed to save us?!”

“Something must have happened on the way, let’s help them first!”

“Fuck! Ready the throwers! Beastkins, I’m going to have to borrow your strength again!”

“Haha, don’t worry about it.”
“Let’s go kick some naked ass!”

The demihumans answer lightheartedly despite being covered in small wounds.

“Damn it! Where the hell did these guys come from?!” The Norman Commander murmurs under his breath, swinging his head left and right as he observes the surroundings on his horse. “Second line, fall back! Third and Fourth line, alternate and press!”

“Sir, the Fourth line is still worn out!”

“Adjut-” The Commander stops midword, remembering that he sent him away. “Personal guards! With me! We will fill in for the Fourth line!”



The Normans collide with the newly arrived spearmen, whose arms are as thick as their legs. It take two Norman soldiers to evenly match with one of theirs, and with their reinforcement of the enemy skirmishers, the Norman lines aren’t able to rotate to rest. Having spent hours fighting their way forward, through first the ambushers, then the regular barbarian troops, the Normans are already at their stamina’s end. Normally, it would be the Normans that tires out their enemy, so one can already see how disadvantaged a situation they are in.


*daku* *KAN*

The sounds of battle screams out from behind the enemy that’s in front of the Commander, causing him to divert his attention.

“This way! This way!” A boar-like demihuman roars out, barely visible from up on his horse.

“All lines! Charge through! Salvation is beyond these brutes!”


The tired out soldiers surge forward as a wave, crashing bodily into the half-naked spearmen. The personal guards, the Third line and the Fourth line desperately aim for the small gap in the left side of the wall of spearmen, chasing the image of the demihuman that peeks in and out as the battle rages.

“Arj! Kamoala!” One of the barbarian shouts into the air, within moments, two walls of spearmen appear from the two sides of the road, boxing the Normans in.

“Damn it! I really don’t to waste this… but no choice! FFFIIIIII!” Kun whistles with his fingers, the sound being ear piercing, surprising both sides that are fighting.

*sha* *shA* *SHA*

The canopy rustles, causing the barbarians to look up warily as the settlers fall back under Kun’s beckoning with his eyes.


A series of flaming pieces of lumber fall from the trees along the sides of the road, crashing down upon the barbarians. Being already wary, most of the barbarians manage to fall back into the jungle in time, only a handful of which got hit by the trap. The two sides back off from one another as they reform their formations, with the Normans breathing heavily to recover their breath.

“Makta! Kamoala!” The barbarian from last time shouts again, starting the process of boxing in the Normans once more.

The trap was originally meant for a surprise attack, but to prevent the infantries’ imminent annihilation, Kun has no choice but to waste it to buy some time for the Normans to recover some stamina.

“ way, make way! MAKE WAY!” From the North entrance of the settlement, a group of demihumans led by Bosim is charging forward while holding onto a ridiculously large log, with its branches obscuring their bodies, looking like a tree that’s madly rushing toward the battle. The settlers, Pentians and Kun either dive past the log from underneath or move to the side, getting out of the way however they can.


The impact of the trunk, the rustle of the leaves and the crackle of the wood dominates the soundscape as numerous barbarians get caught unawares, receiving the blow from their back or getting pinned down by the massive weight, their fate obvious.

“Quick! Get over here!” Bosim climbs on top of the log, reaching his hand out to the nearest Norman soldier on the other side and pulls them across.

“Go! Go! Go!” The Commander and the men who are still capable of fighting form a rearguard, protecting their back. The log is right in between flaming debris, limiting the route that the barbarians can attack from. Riding atop his steed, the Commander charges in and out of the line, his sword swinging wildly to scare off any enemies brave enough to approach them. In a few minutes, the majority of the infantries are already on the other side of the log.

“Commander! Archers are ready!” A man shouts while standing on top of the log.

“I’ll cover the back, go!” The remaining men dash toward the log, with helping hands pulling them over, holding back the branches that threaten to hamper their ascent. The Commander squeezes his thighs, making the horse run in a wide arc, slashing his blade with wide, sweeping strikes that threaten to take off the neck of anyone that dares to hinder him. The Commander turns suddenly after a swing, kicking the flanks of his steed from both sides.

“Come on, boy, it’s our turn!”


The horse neighs, dashing straight at the log. The soldiers at the top try not to flinch as they hold down the branches. The small horse manages to barely jump onto the log before kicking it and reaching the other side. The soldiers collectively sigh a breath of relief before climbing down themselves. Some of the infantries are retching from over exhaustion, others are leaning on their weapons to prevent themselves from falling down, since that would mean they wouldn’t be getting up.

“Kun, escort them into the settlement. We will hold them off!”

The young man only nods slightly as he grabs the weakest of the Normans and carries him on his back, leading the infantries into the settlement.

“KAMOALA! KAMOALA! KAMOALA!” A battle cry filled with bloodlust echoes from beyond the log. Shortly after, the log that’s almost twice as thick as a man is tall splinters in pieces, hacked by axes and spears.

“FUCK OFF!” The bull-like demihuman grabs the spears of several of the barbarians, lifting them along with the spears before throwing them back over the log. Likewise, the other demihumans would grab a barbarian or their weapons before throwing them over the log as well, stemming the tide.

[T/N: He didn’t actually said that since the swear itself doesn’t exist in nip, but I think this is a better fit considering the situation.]

“Arj! Kuamamo makta jo! Kamoala aanta!” A shout can be heard from somewhere in the distance, which causes the barbarians to stop fighting for a moment, making the demihumans look on anxiously. Shortly after, the broken pieces of the log gets thrown to the side of the road, opening a clear path.

“““URRRAAAAOOOOO!””” With a chaotic charge, the barbarians surge forward.

“EVERYONE! RUN BACK!” Bosim bellows before turning his back and running toward the retreating Norman troops. The two dozens or so demihumans turn in unison, and start running back toward the way they came.


The boar-like demihuman from before falls onto the jungle floor, a large gash visible on his leg.

“Aniki!” Two of the retreating demihumans stop and run back into the charging horde.

“Fuck! Go!” Bosim, seeing that, charges back while commanding the rest of the Pentians to retreat. The two who ran back are now surrounded, fighting back with everything they’ve got while protecting the boar-like demihuman who keeps telling them to run away and leave him there.

“«MOWOOOO»! DIEEEEE!” The bull-like man grows in size, with veins popping out all over his body, his skin turning dark gray from a healthy brown. He charges at the group headfirst, barbarians that try to block his way get gored before being tossed aside. Those that try to flank him get mowed over with a lariat or a backhand strike that sends them flying into the trees.

“Auka, sounama saa kayuetama!” A barbarian with a pauldron charges in from the back, making a beeline for the bullman. The rest of the barbarians open a path before rushing after the speeding figure, forming a column charge.

Bosim merely gives them a sideways glance as he furiously makes his way to his three brethren. As he finally nears them, he pulls one of the attacking barbarians by the arm before picking him up and grabs him by the leg. The barbarian struggles by stabbing with his spear and kicking Bosim with his free legs, but before he can get much success, he’s became a flesh hammer, being swung around by the leg.

*daku* *DAN*

“RAAAAHHHHH!! ATA! ATA!!!!” The soft sound of bones separating can be faintly heard in the midst of the fighting, before the man gets slammed into those surrounding the three demihumans. The crushed man-weapon can only scream pitifully after colliding with his fellows, with a spear piercing through his sides.

“GO! NOW!”

The two immediately pick up the boarman, carrying him between them as they retreat. They grit their teeth as they turn back to give their savior a look before hobbling off.

“MMWOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bosim picks up a barbarian with two hands, swinging him by the legs with a giant turn before sending him flailing toward the group charging towards him. The man leading the charge runs closer to the ground to avoid the thrown man, but the ones behind him weren’t able to dodge in time as they get knocked flat onto the ground.

After throwing three more squirming bodies, the barbarians finally reach the bullman, albeit with only a handful or so remaining from the initial charge. A smaller, older looking barbarian throws a spear, causing Bosim to dodge awkwardly. The leading barbarian takes the chance and dives into the bullman’s chest with the pauldron, knocking him off balance. Before he can recover, the other barbarians follow through and pierce him with all their weapons.


Out of the nowhere, a stone bashes a barbarian in the temple, toppling him, causing the rest of the barbarians to turn. A relatively small man with black hair appears from the side, making a wide sweep with his sword while his other hand is over his shoulder. The nearest barbarian sweeps his spear with one hand to parry the sword, as the sparks fly from the collision, his view suddenly turns dark before he screams horribly. A metal rod smashes directly on the man’s left eye socket, causing him to keel over in pain.

“RAA!!!!!” Bosim bellows as he strikes out at the nearest barbarian during that lapse, smashing a fist into his bared chest with a *koki*

“Kayue! Sana, KAMOALA!” The older barbarian with white hair screams placing himself between them and the barbarian wearing the pauldron, causing the barbarians to rouse themselves. The ones that were on the floor due to the collision with their thrown allies start to get up one after another.

“What are you doing here, Kun?! You want to die or something?” The bleeding bullman asks with heavy breath.

“Saving you.” Kun replies while forcefully controlling his breathing.

The barbarians won’t let them continue their conversation as they all rush in to attack as soon as they are ready.

*Kan* *Kan* *shi*

Spear thrusts flash by, axes and blades come down in a rain of blurs. For every attack Kun lands, twice as many land on his body. His strength is vastly inferior to the barbarians, as such, he has to bounce around like a pinball to avoid severe injuries. Bosim fares worse, only landing a blow for every five that he receives, with his body tainted red from his own blood. The only consolation is that every hit he lands would put a barbarian out of the fight.

“URO!” A barbarian chops down with an axe, aiming for the exposed neck of Bosim after he launched another barbarian away.

*shi* *daku*

“Urk!” The tip of a rod appears from below the axe-wielding barbarian’s sight, striking him from under the chin, knocking him out cold. In return, a large cut appears on Kun’s right tricep as a result of a spear thrust.

The pauldron-wearing warrior crashes into the weakened Kun with the metal face of the shoulderguard, sending him flying onto the ground. He swings with an overhand strike with his axe, intending to end the nimble man before he manages to get up.


A hand stops his swing a hair away from Kun’s head, threatening to crush his forearm with a terrifying grip.

“KAYUE!” The white-bearded barbarian screams, him, along with the other nearby barbarians, all of them attack the bullman who is lifting up the attacking man’s arm.

“GO! SAVE YOURSELF!” Bosim’s bloodshot eyes narrow as he fights the man’s struggling and ignores the numerous attacks raining on his body. “MUWWAAAA!!!” He forcefully drags the man’s arm upward before swinging him around in circles, causing the surrounding barbarians to back off.


The barbarian with the pauldron finally gets sent flying into a group of barbarians, the bullman standing rooted firmly in place, leering at the barbarians, daring them to approach.

Silence suddenly descends onto the battlefield, drowning everyone with heavy pressure. Kun manages to pull himself up by stabbing his rod into the ground, standing next to Bosim.

“Let’s go back, Bosim. While they are scared stupid.”

The standing bullman ignores his remark, staring at the barbarians relentlessly.

“Oy, Bosim, let’s go.” Kun lightly grabs onto the man’s shoulder, which gave way before his entire body falls down like a puppet with its strings removed. Everyone, allies and enemies alike, is shocked by the scene.

“Argh…” The young man reaches his head with his left hand, as though he’s suffering a splitting headache. “Father…? Ar… urAGHHHH! NOOO!!!!!” The young man drags his wounded body and rushes into the crowd of barbarians.

* * * * *


“Eh. What’s the matter, Mr. Gui?” Charlotte asks while laying besides the gray fox.

“I have to go.” Gui pokes into the air before toppling over, logging out.

The gray fox stands up from the bed with the console, running out of the room, surprising a few workers in the compound. He quickly weaves through the hallway and runs into the room where Kun is using the machine to log in. With a small whimper, the fox gives the tear-stained face a few licks before laying his head on his brother’s chest.


  1. In case some of you didn't read the update post. This chapter is HUGE, like, 11k word huge, and UNEDITED. So if you find any mistakes, feel free to comment below.

    The chapter for some reason didn't feel as long when I read it before I started translating, but once I started, I realized how insanely long it is compare to other chapters.

    For the record, this set of chapters drives me insane due to the lack of furigana for reference, the author actually forgetting what the chapter's title was referencing (but it's still spoil-ish anyways).

    Also, there's a obvious/not-so-obvious foreshadowing, that can be considered sneaky depending if you notice it or not >.> Anyhow, enjoy.

    Edit: Editing is now underway, Ishman has been released from his feline overlord.

    1. Problems with blogspot commenting again, so I'm not sure if my comment under a different name actually went to you or not.

      That rope system sounds like a nightmare to explain. The finished prototype should just take some regular editing, but properly depicting the experiments they were doing before that may even need supplementary blurbs and liberties.

      So at the end, the young man is Kun experiencing traumatic flashbacks? And he fought some more afterwards?

    2. Read the reply below for mufarasu~

      And sorry, the comments are under moderation, I kinda forgot about approving comments cause I was so busy editing and shit with ishman. Refer to the other posts, or if you are too lazy, we spent 15+ hours on it :P

    3. As for the ending, yeah. That's what it looks like to me, PTSDed Kun go cuckoo.

  2. Thanks for the chapter.
    I would appreciate some clarification on what the demi-human students built. Some kinda zip line system? The whole procedure rather confused me.

    1. I would assume you are Nam Etag, that part have been re-written due to technical failure (both me and ishman has engineering background, ishman more than me, but we both agree the original prototype wouldn't work) . Re-read that part now, since it has been properly editted and fixed :D

      I would say the first successful prototype is more of a crude guide-lined launch track. The rope there is just there to make sure the carriage go in the right direction, using the initial impulse/thrust from a spell and gravity (cause the starting end is significantly higher than the anchored end) as energy to deliver the parcel.

      I'd imagine the ultimate end result would be something like this

      A single rope zipline, a pulley to dangle something off of and just let it rip, any height/thrust would just be for sending it to a further distance (thinking kilometers per trip instead of the standard which are normally measured in meters)

    2. err thanks for the answer, but that's not me. Seems like blogspot comments are having trouble with firefox, so I switched to chrome which is linked to a different name.

      What I can't wrap my head around is how they managed to get the prototype to work with knots. The only problem was friction heat, but how did the wheel/cover connected to the rope not stop outright or jerk, sending the parcel flying out?

    3. The above picture would be the final result, the prototype would be something like this. (This is the design we are using to replace the original, since it fails in our eyes). Might want to re-read the edited version.

      Top left is frontview.

      Left is profile view.

      Right is the contraption in action. The front "ski" is angled upward (and it could be much shorter, I am just bad at drawing xP), with the leading edge curled up to prevent it accidentally cutting the bloody knots. The back "ski" is there to minimize the twisting (yaw).

      The rope is fed through the ring, and the parcel is tied however you like inside the frame (since it's a metal skeleton except for the front and back panels) under the ring. The ring is fused together, with the top of the ring over the ski before fusing them.

      The X signifies the knot, due to the slight concave shape of the "ski", it will always slip front "ski" and under the ring, the entire thing will just treat it like bump. Think of it like moguls in skiing if you will.

      The contraption rely on a ridiculous amount of thrust as an initial boost, then use gravity (potential energy -> kinetic energy proportional with the angle) to ride the rest of the way down. So pretty much, as long it stays on the guideline and the rope doesn't snag, it'll always reach the bottom.

      It is different from an actual zipline where it is efficient. The prototype is just something they can blast the thing and have it land in one piece at the other end.

    4. thanks, that really clears it up after reading the editing version.

  3. Visual aid

  4. Thanks for your efforts on this chapter! Hope the next chapter isn't as bad

  5. What do you mean furigana? I thought it's chinese novel

    I mean, even aside from everything else
    “The mountains are tall, the Emperor is far. What Royalists? What Republicans?"
    is a classic lament of Chinese novel/movies.

    1. The work is in JAPANESE, it was answered quite a while ago in the ABOUT tab, two of the writers were CHINESE LEARNING JAPANESE and one writer was JAPANESE LEARNING CHINESE. There are times when chinese shit shows up cause we were trying shit on each other for learning purposes (aside from screwing with each other), and if you'd ACTUALLY READ the T/N for “The mountains are tall, the Emperor is far. What Royalists? What Republicans?" which was directly underneath it, you will see that it was a chinese idiom adopted to japanese. I will quote it below.

      [T/N: 山は高く、皇帝は遠い caught me a little offguard, it bugged me for a while as to why it sounds so familiar. Turns out it’s the japanese transliteration of the chinese idiom of 山高皇帝遠. Go figure.]


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