Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 33
>Chapter Title: A Night of Counting Stars (7)
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>*
“Lay down your weapons and surrender!”
Behind them, the carriage, from which no one seemed keen to emerge until the situation was resolved.
Before them, a crowd of elves, growling as they drew their menacing weapons.
Their only escape was the vast sky above, where a fall meant certain death.
“Heh, what a fine day to die.”
Yujin muttered the joke with a gloomy face. He raised his shield and sword, bracing himself, then suddenly shoved Yuri forward.
“Huh…?”
>“Go, Yuri Franck! Top student of Saint Yansk University's Knight Division!”
>“W-Wha…?”
Yuri stumbled forward a step, her expression bewildered.
“Um, well. I know I’m the vanguard, but… all by myself? Seriously?”
>“I’m from the 21st century! I’ve never fought before!”
>“I was an illustrator!”
>“But you’re in the Knight Division!”
>“You’re holding a weapon too!”
>“This is for self-defense!”
As the two started bickering, the surrounding elves watched them with baffled eyes.
They sounded like students, but how did they get here? And why?
And what’s more, after launching a surprise attack with weapons drawn, they were pushing each other to fight…?
“What should we do with them?”
>“Looks like some human nobles out for a bit of fun. Go easy on them. Don’t kill them.”
University students were typically nobles, given the murderous tuition fees. Capturing them could lead to a more favorable deal with the Krasilov monarchy.
As the deck chief sighed and gave the order, the crew members raised their weapons with reluctant expressions.
Fortunately, their opponents were young humans who seemed to have neither the will nor the experience to fight.
Behind the two armed intruders, a tall, hooded man sighed deeply and raised his hand.
“Fools. What kind of party composition has one vanguard and two in the rear? Have you never played a game before?”
Oswald waved his hand, weaving a spell. Purple magic writhed, knitting a strange pattern at his gesture.
[Grant Courage]. It was a low-level spell, but he knew from experience that the man named Yujin had no immunity to mind-affecting magic.
It was only natural. How could a transmigrator fresh from the 21st century possibly resist a mental spell that had to be overcome with ‘willpower’?
-Kiiing—!
“Oof.”
As the spell took hold, Yujin’s head slumped forward.
“What… what did you do?”
>“I just gave him a little courage. I’ll provide support, so buy us some time up front. Until, you know, Mr. Ivan arrives.”
>“Uh… okay. Um, Mr. Yujin?”
Yujin was muttering something, his head still bowed.
“Sir? Are you all right?”
>“It is Yevgeny.”
>“…Excuse me?”
>“My name is Yevgeny Novikov Karamzin.”
Yujin made a small sign of the cross with his sword hand, then pressed his lips to the blade and whispered.
“May the Lord watch over our battle this day.”
>“Uh, Mr. Oswald? I think you cast the wrong spell.”
>“That can’t be. It was [Grant Courage]...”
Ignoring the transmigrators’ bewildered exchange, Yujin slowly opened his eyes.
His blue eyes blazed with unwavering resolve as he raised his sword high.
“Praise the glory of the Lord, for He brings peace to this land by upholding virtue with justice.”
>“Uh… um…”
>“Maybe injecting courage into a mix of priest and swordsman classes caused some kind of conflict?”
>“That’s… quite something. Don’t use that on me. I’ll handle myself.”
Had he lost his sense of self? Yuri trembled with fear.
Suppose one lost their ego after transmigrating into a game setting and became completely absorbed in role-playing.
In that case, what would her own ego become if she were to fully embrace role-playing in a depraved academy game?
She would rather fight with a sword. Fortunately, Yuri had a talent for swordsmanship. She was the top student of the Knight Division, after all.
“Hear the holy word of our Lord God, you heathens! Worship Him, praise Him!”
Yujin roared and charged forward, swinging his sword without warning. *Boom!* With a violent explosion, a pure white light erupted from his blade.
“[Divine Smite]…!”
>“That idiot. He should’ve learned a healing skill instead.”
Yuri and Oswald grumbled as they followed Yujin, who was already running ahead.
The three transmigrators had successfully caused a commotion on the deck. Everything was going according to Ivan’s plan.
*
Walking down the dark ship corridor, flashing warning lights his only illumination, Ivan listened intently.
*Wee-woo, wee-woo.* Amidst the blaring sirens, he dissected every faint sound.
The repetitive noise echoing through the narrow interior could be used as a beacon for echolocation, provided one could distinguish the source of the sound.
Though not as sharp as an elf’s, the hearing of a well-trained agent could pinpoint objects by calculating the time lag as sound waves bounced off them.
In this way, Ivan could sense two people standing around the corner before he even turned it.
-Bang—!
He fired almost the same instant he revealed himself in the corridor. The target, though startled, hastily twisted his body to evade the line of fire.
*So they have line-of-fire detection.*
Ivan nodded and drew his axe.
“Who’s there!”
Wrong question. It was an indicator of their level of training.
The first rule after being fired upon was to neutralize the opponent before asking questions. And when the opponent clearly had hostile intentions, asking for their identity was an utterly foolish question.
So, instead of answering, Ivan lunged. The naive elf crewman had to pay the price for his mistake.
-Swoosh
>-Crack!
“Gah!”
The axe spun through the air and slammed into the elf’s neck. A clean, powerful strike. The elf let out a choked gasp and crashed into the wall.
Simultaneously, Ivan raised his pistol and aimed it at the other man rushing toward him. No aiming, just firing.
-Bang—!!
“You bastard!”
As expected, he dodged. The man had line-of-fire detection. But Ivan had only needed that fleeting moment, the brief instant the man twisted his body to avoid the shot.
When he turned back, Ivan was already swinging the axe up under his chin.
-Craaack—!!
The elf, his jaw twisted sideways, collapsed without so much as a groan.
Since he’d used the back of the blade, it was more like being struck by a short club than an axe, but as long as they weren’t dead, it didn’t matter.
Ivan gave the elf with the shattered jaw a light kick and moved on.
-WEEEE-WOOO!
>-WEE-WOO!!
The siren blared noisily through the corridor.
Amidst the cacophony and the flashing red warning lights, Ivan walked with his eyes closed.
*Wee-woo, wee-woo.* He calculated the time lag of the sound waves ricocheting off every corner of the hallway.
*
Onest, captain of the Caleon Archipelago’s *Wolfstal*-class airship, the *Glory of Boyle*, scowled in his cabin.
The last report he had received was, ‘Unidentified students have attempted a raid and are being neutralized.’
The attack had happened just as he was preparing for a secret meeting with Crown Prince Aleksandr’s envoy, which had frayed his nerves, but that was the extent of it.
After all, wasn’t it their fault for mooring the ship right above a university?
It was plausible that high-spirited youths of that age might have had a drink and tried to infiltrate the ship using levitation magic or some other means.
It was normal for people that age to want to prove their courage or bravery.
But still…
“Why are there no further reports?”
He’d heard it was just three young students.
Since all students at Saint Yansk University were nobles or at least from influential commoner families, he had ordered them captured alive.
No matter how arrogant elves were, they couldn’t just kill another nation’s students in their own territory.
But even so, it was only three students. There was a limit to what they could have learned, and even if they were bold for their age, they were still just ‘students.’
So, whether they had been successfully captured or had somehow managed to escape below deck, there should have been some kind of follow-up report ten minutes after the attack.
“Is anyone out there? Guard! Go check the situation on deck!”
He shouted with irritation. It was impossible for him to go to the deck himself.
Crown Prince Aleksandr’s envoy would be arriving on deck, wouldn’t he? It would be beneath his dignity for the captain to greet them personally, and in a situation preceding a secret pact between nations, showing any weakness would be disastrous.
“Is no one there? What is everyone doing! And turn off that damn siren! I can’t hear myself think over the noise!”
Finally, Onest rose from his seat.
He strode impatiently across the captain’s cabin and flung open the bulkhead door.
-WEE-WOOO!
>-WEE-WOOO!
The corridor was filled with the deafening siren, but there were no lights.
*Is it broken?* the thought briefly crossed his mind. But he quickly shook his head.
It couldn’t be broken. This was an attack.
“Tch!”
His face contorted in a scowl as he quickly hid behind the door. He grabbed the ceremonial sword displayed on the wall, drew it, and took a deep breath.
“Did Elizaveta send you!”
>“…”
>“Damn it, I know you’re there, so answer me! An attack by students? Don’t make me laugh. Using students for a diversionary tactic!?”
He didn’t know the situation on deck, but he was sure it wasn’t over yet.
No matter how formidable the enemy forces were, three people couldn’t possibly wipe out the entire crew in ten minutes.
So, he would hold out. Long enough for Crown Prince Aleksandr to grasp the situation and consider deploying troops.
Neither Onest nor Aleksandr wanted Elizaveta to find out at this stage.
Then, a voice echoed.
“The Lord Chamberlain should have told you.”
>“What…?”
Onest turned his head toward the low voice coming from the end of the corridor.
The distance was probably the end of the corridor outside his cabin. At that range, a company-level destruction spell wouldn't reach the captain’s quarters.
He nodded and intertwined his fingers. Blue mana flared to life, weaving at his fingertips.
Just then.
-Whoooooosh—!!
With a sound that tore through the air.
-Craaaash!!
‘Something’ flew past the open doorway and slammed into the round table in the captain’s cabin.
*A spell? Destruction magic?* Onest whipped his head around, ready to cast a defensive spell if it was an explosive.
“…An axe…?”
A single axe with a rope tied to it was embedded in the round table, having shattered it in half.
Onest muttered blankly.
“So ‘the lumberjack’… was literal?”
To think it had been a plain description, not some malicious metaphor.
Onest laughed in disbelief.
*Twang.* The rope attached to the axe went taut.
-Crack!
The axe was pulled free, and its momentum sent it spinning, slamming into Onest’s leg.
“Ugh!”
Fortunately, he was hit by the back of the blade, not the edge. His ankle twisted, and he rolled across the floor, out of the axe’s range.
The axe disappeared back into the darkness at the end of the corridor as if swallowed by it. As Onest staggered to his feet, using his sword as a cane, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. *Thud, thud.*
A pair of blue eyes glowed in the darkness.
Then, a bushy beard.
Arms corded with snake-like veins, and in that hand, a firmly gripped axe.
And a pistol, aimed right at him.
“Let’s negotiate.”
>“That’s not in my orders.”
-Bang—!
A muzzle flash lit up the darkened corridor.
*