Chapter 53
Chapter 53
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Pavane for a Dead Dwarf (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
* * *
***
Lunchtime at Lord Howe Academy.
The 'Writer' sat in an unoccupied grassy patch between the dump and the sports field, opening his notebook.
It was the notebook where he had jotted down the original story of this world as he remembered it.
A notebook that was as good as a secret weapon, yet it bore a massive X slashed across the first page.
'What the hell? It's messed up from the prologue onward.'
The prologue of this world—the mad necromancer's assault with his horde of zombies—had never happened.
There wasn't even a trace of a necromancer, let alone any zombies.
'Fuck.'
A tragedy that should have claimed countless lives had passed without incident. It was something he ought to be thrilled about, but the 'Writer' felt no joy—only rage.
The prologue had been his chance. A chance to eliminate side characters he despised and to figure out who the 'Protagonist' was.
The assassination dagger and poison needles he'd painstakingly prepared had gone to waste. No 'Protagonist' had emerged to draw public attention by taking down Buzum.
With the very first step twisted, the rest couldn't possibly go smoothly.
The Saintess, a key figure in Chapter 1.
Not only had she skipped the entrance ceremony, she'd vanished from the academy entirely.
What was incomprehensible was what came after.
She hadn't returned to her homeland in the Holy Kingdom, nor gone to any of the tourist spots she'd always dreamed of. Instead, she'd shown up in Manchuria. Why?
Seeing those two massive hands and the transparent cloak plastered across the front page of the newspaper had left him so stunned that he'd flung his phone away the moment he read the article.
'Fuck, just how much has the future changed?'
The 'Writer' flipped through the notebook's pages back and forth, deep in thought.
Manchuria, known in the game as a 'power-leveling hunting ground,' wasn't a hunting ground at all—it was solidly holding back Siberia's monsters.
And that wasn't the end of the problems. A dragon, which shouldn't appear until Chapter 5, had made the news, leaving behind even its ribs after a fierce battle.
Manchuria and dragon ribs. How massive would those snowballs rolling downhill get? He couldn't even begin to predict.
The 'Writer' slammed the notebook shut and rubbed his furrowed brow. He wanted to devise some countermeasures, but he was sorely lacking information.
He needed to know what the hell was happening in the world, what those damn side characters were up to, if he was going to come up with any plans.
'Damn it, I really need to make connections with an intel guild fast.'
The 'Writer' stood up, recalling the two major intel guilds.
Blue Rat and Secret Society.
His initial plan, scribbled at the top of the notebook, had been to make contact with Blue Rat.
Not only could he connect through the Saintess easily, but there were plenty of items he could acquire.
But the Saintess hadn't come to the academy, and neither had the Blue Rat guild members surveilling her.
So only one option remained.
'To think I'd have to tangle with criminals right from the start... fuck.'
The 'Writer' trudged out of the grassy patch with irritated steps.
His head understood there was no choice, but it was hard to stifle the curses slipping through his lips.
Damn it. Damn it.
Grumbling like that for a while, the 'Writer' emerged from the grass and arrived at the dump.
Like the academy's other facilities, the dump was a mix of historic, weathered structures and cutting-edge ones.
Not a single fly buzzed in the quiet dump. Well, no student would visit the dump during lunch hour, after all.
Of course, hardly any students came here even normally... but that was fine by the 'Writer'. The person he was waiting for wasn't a student.
He spread out a spot in the corner of the dump and sat, pondering how to start the conversation.
Want to buy some info? Too obvious.
Want to share a secret with you guys? Cliché.
I know what you did last summer? Plagiarized.
So the safest bet was probably...
I hate Earth too.
'Yeah, nothing bonds people like a common enemy...'
Just as the 'Writer's' thoughts continued, footsteps echoed from afar.
Thud. Thud.
But it wasn't just one set of footsteps.
The 'Writer' hastily brushed himself off and hid behind a pile of trash.
Peeking out from behind a trash bag, he saw two people entering the dump, just as expected.
The one in front was the Secret Society spy he'd been waiting for.
Dressed in a crisp white janitor's uniform, a neat triangular headscarf, and pale pink rubber gloves—a janitor.
By her backstory, she'd been disguised as an academy janitor for a full ten years. Nicknamed Eva Auntie.
And following behind her was a girl who was both unfamiliar and familiar.
'...Hong Seti? Why her?'
The roommate of the elf princess who'd become famous before the entrance ceremony even started, and a person the protagonist candidate Jeon Yun-seong found uncomfortable.
She was one of the persons of interest the 'Writer' had been specifically observing lately.
It made perfect sense.
She got tangled up with major characters, yet she was an unknown who never appeared in the novel or game.
And above all... that appearance.
Her face and figure were too extraordinary to dismiss as just an extra.
Even her coldly set expression looked beautiful, with a toned physique. Long, straight black hair cascading down, and deep blue eyes like lapis lazuli...
Each feature rivaled the heroine elf princess.
Some male students were already fawning over the two who hung out together, calling them the black-and-gold sisters or the school's top beauties—no need to say more.
'...Not just some ordinary extra, after all.'
As the 'Writer' confirmed his suspicions, the two began conversing in the corner of the dump, out of CCTV range.
—Seti, you've broken our promise. Acting on your own without consulting us.
Eva's voice was as gentle as ever, but her expression and tone were razor-sharp.
—We trusted your sincerity and handed over that martial art. Is this how you repay us?
A promise? Was Seti part of Secret Society too? The 'Writer' concentrated his scant mana into his ears.
The moment he heard Seti's voice that followed, he flinched involuntarily.
—Don't talk like you gave it to me for free. It's fucking annoying.
—What?
—It was a fair trade, wasn't it? I gave you what you wanted, and you just handed over the price. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?
Seti's voice was colder than he'd imagined. Nothing like her usual quiet beauty.
—Wave Yang Art is worth more than the data you gave me! How dare you say that...
As Eva's voice rose, a murderous mana crushed down on the dump.
—Cut the bullshit. Let's end it here. Okay?
Unlike Eva, who was only breaking a light sweat, the 'Writer'—teetering on the edge of superhuman—could tell.
That killing intent, that mana.
Seti was serious. If they crossed the line even a little more, she'd genuinely kill Eva with that mana.
—You gave it knowing I couldn't master it. Right?
Eva tried to retort, but Seti's words came faster.
—It's as outstanding as you said, but also so unique that anyone above a certain level would notice right away.
—No, that's...
—I led you to discard me like a worn-out shoe to the government, didn't I? I get it, and I understand. It makes sense. We're nothing to each other from the start, right?
She gently placed a hand on Eva's shoulder. A terrifying hand rippling with mana.
Only then did Eva's body begin to tremble like a leaf.
—K-Killing me won't change anything. Our w-will is firm.
—What will? Important enough to abandon the spy you barely planted in the academy?
—W-We... W-Wave Yang Art... We just want to stop it from... sp-spreading. Releasing... an-another dimension's... martial art... on Earth... is... un-unacceptable... Ghk!
Eva, barely stringing words together, could say no more and dropped to her knees. Her body convulsed like she'd been struck by lightning.
Seti gazed down at her impassively, then replied in a cold voice.
—No need to worry about that. I have no intention of sharing Wave Yang Art with anyone else.
—Hahk... hahk...
—Of course, if you keep getting on my nerves... you know what'll happen, right?
With that short threat, Seti left the dump.
Neither the 'Writer' nor the spy dared speak until her footsteps faded away.
***
The vast Manchurian plains, with the Singanling Mountains in view.
A fainted dwarf, a dying Horse Head, and a cold wind blowing between two people glaring at each other.
A brief silence passed before the one in the black insulated suit spoke.
“You wouldn't happen to be... from the Sumi Realm?”
Sumi Realm? A place Yeomyeong had no memory of. He shook his head.
“No. Never heard of it.”
“...Really?”
Mana gathered in the guy's eyes as he stared at Yeomyeong.
A piercing gaze that seemed to see through every facial twitch, subtle movement, even the flow of mana.
“Then where and how did you learn Wave Yang Art? Do you have a separate master, or did you obtain the manual... no, the secret relic yourself?”
“For someone who snuck up to stab me in the back, you sure ask a lot of questions.”
“...”
“Scared now?”
An infuriating provocation. The guy let out a hollow chuckle in disbelief.
“This bastard... I was going easy thinking you were one of us from the homeland...”
“Going easy? Hide your killing intent before you talk big.”
“...Ha.”
The guy tossed the slung-over Darulma to the ground and glared at Yeomyeong with a hardened expression.
“Whether from this world or that world, some guys only learn their place after getting beaten half to death.”
“Couldn't agree more.”
Before the guy could retort, Yeomyeong charged first. In the next instant, he was right in front of the guy's nose.
Yeomyeong unleashed Wave Yang Art, swinging his sword briefly, while the guy threw a mana-infused punch.
!!!
Not sword clashing with fist, but mana against mana—the sound rang out.
Mana carrying Wave Yang Art's waves, met by mana from another corresponding martial art.
Immediately after, a shockwave like a bomb blast erupted. The dwarf beside the guy went flying pathetically.
As sword and fist pushed against each other, the guy said,
“You've got plenty of mana... but it's lacking finesse. No proper master, huh.”
It wasn't empty taunting. As if to prove his words, the guy drew up mana throughout his body.
Craaack!
Mana bursting from his entire body repelled the sword. No—sent Yeomyeong's whole body flying.
When Yeomyeong planted his feet, he saw dark red mana shimmering transparently around the guy's body, like heat haze.
“Ready to die now?”
This time, the guy charged first. His movements were unlike any opponent Yeomyeong had fought so far. His punch shot out so fast mid-leap it was invisible.
Mana accelerated it. The surrounding air heated instantly, and a delayed impact tore through the atmosphere.
Craaack—!
Thrust, rebound, swing, smash down. Yeomyeong's sword rang shrilly as it blocked the fists.
The moment the guy's fist overtook Yeomyeong's sword, a grenade dropped at Yeomyeong's feet.
“Dirty tricks...!”
Boom!!
A pathetic explosion separated the two. Both leaped out of the grenade's range in an instant and reset their stances.
“Hanging bombs all over you—aren't you ashamed as a martial artist?”
“...Not really?”
Yeomyeong counted his remaining grenades as he replied. Thanks to the corpse explosions, only two hung from his waist now.
'Too bad. A few more, and I could've dragged this out longer.'
He felt deep regret gazing at his opponent cloaked in haze-like mana.
An enemy with much to teach. The method of emitting mana from the whole body, the precise mana control and every motion—it was a living textbook.
If they could fight like this for one or two more hours, it would advance Yeomyeong's realm significantly. A true expert.
But despite that martial prowess... the guy's attacks weren't threatening to Yeomyeong.
Objectively, their skills were evenly matched on a razor's edge.
'Why?'
Yeomyeong swung his sword again, pondering the reason.
Even as mana-laden fists battered his body, as he barely deflected palm winds, as he detonated grenades. He kept thinking.
Then, in an instant, he realized it from the guy's deliberate minimization of his movements.
'Difference in physique.'
For some reason, the opponent's body was no different from a kid just hitting puberty.
From fine muscles to cartilage, everything fell short of a superhuman's.
Martial arts were ultimately extensions of methods to reinforce the body with mana.
Even with overwhelming martial skill, an inadequate body had limits.
He was bridging the gap with superior technique... but compared to Yeomyeong's physique, which surpassed ordinary superhumans, the difference was clear.
'...What the hell is he?'
As Yeomyeong's thoughts deepened, the guy couldn't hold back his frustration and yelled.
“Damn it, what kind of body is that!”
Wincing in disgust, he put distance between them.
“Regenerating after taking a full-powered kick. You really human?”
“...”
“Is your mom a monster and dad human or something?”
Absurd as provocation, ridiculous as sincerity. Yeomyeong shook the sword clean and shook his head.
“...What are you?”
“Don't answer a question with a question! Did they teach you to respond to questions with questions at school—”
Just as the absurd conversation was about to continue, something flying from afar pierced the guy's shoulder.
Bang!
A bullet wrapped in pure white mana. Yeomyeong and the guy both looked toward the source.
The Saintess racing in on a bike. One hand on the handlebars, the other aiming a rifle.
“...Blessed bullet. A Saintess, huh.”
The guy glanced at his right shoulder dripping blood, then kicked off the ground.
Instead of pursuing, Yeomyeong flew toward the fainted Darulma Dun in the distance.
Securing the dwarf's safety, he saw the guy's destination was the opposite direction.
If not the dwarf, then surely...
He was right. The guy scooped up the one-armed Horse Head and began stepping on empty air.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The Saintess fired repeatedly from afar, but he didn't take it lying down like before.
Instead, he used the Horse Head as a shield to block the bullets.
“Kya—aaak!!!”
The bullet-riddled Horse Head screamed, but the guy ignored it. As if he didn't care if it lived or died.
Once airborne, the guy shouted at Yeomyeong.
“You, you monster bastard! What's your name?”
“...Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?”
At Yeomyeong's retort, the guy grimaced and answered.
“My name is Pasun. Pasun of the Six Heavens. Now, state your name.”
Yeomyeong paused, considering whether to keep the guy there longer, but changed his mind at the blazing intensity in his eyes.
For some reason, he had a feeling they'd meet again.
“...Cheon Yeomyeong.”
“Cheon Yeomyeong. I'll remember it.”
With that clichéd exchange, the guy stepped on air and fled.
Yeomyeong watched his retreating figure briefly, then stood guard over the fainted dwarf. The engine roar of the Saintess's bike grew closer.
* * *