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Early DAR Vol. 4 Chapter 14 Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 16:26:13 +0000 UTCFull title: Starting a New Life for the Discarded All-Rounder
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Translator: Airis
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Midnight. While Coralde and Bruno were having their late-night meeting, the members of the Citadel Dungeon investigation team had already gone to sleep.
Of course, there were still lookouts posted, and someone from Nostalgia was awake at all times, taking turns on the watch. Roa had casually said, “With Uncle Gry and the others around, there’s no need,” but they had decided that at least one person from their group should keep watch—for peace of mind if nothing else. At the very least, they needed someone awake to alert the others in case of emergency.
Right now, it was Cornelia’s shift.
Dietrich and the others had felt a little guilty about leaving Cornelia as the only woman among mostly male guards, but no one here—aside from Nostalgia’s members—was stronger than her, so there was no issue.
Cornelia was staring at the campfire.
She wore a brooding expression, her eyes locked on a single point, unmoving, as if lost deep in thought.
A tripod stood over the fire, a kettle hanging from it. Steam drifted lazily from the spout, catching the glow of the flames as it faded into the night.
The kettle was filled with holy water.
Just like this one, three other kettles filled with holy water had been placed around the encampment, each set over a fire. This was how they kept undead from approaching during the night.
The investigation team didn’t know—they were told it was a special healing potion that didn't lose potency when heated, a stand-in for a purification barrier tool. Since none of them had caught on to the truth, Roa and the others were using it without hesitation.
“…Cornelia. Do you have a moment?”
“What is it?”
Cornelia tilted her head at the sight of Roa approaching awkwardly.
He was supposed to be asleep.
Roa held out a small pouch to her. Perhaps it was the light from the fire, but his face looked a little red.
“Um… please use this.”
Roa wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“What’s this? A gift?”
“…”
Cornelia tried to tease him a little to break the tension, but Roa just mumbled and looked down.
“…I, uh, used to sell medicine to brothels.”
“…Huh?”
The word “brothel” felt so far removed from anything she associated with Roa that her heart skipped a beat.
“I, um, I noticed you seemed kind of off since before dinner… I was worried maybe you were sick. But when I asked Dietrich, he said you weren’t, and… well…”
His face was visibly red now.
“If it’s not an illness and it’s something women deal with… then it’s that, right? This medicine helps make it lighter and end sooner. It’s not a magic potion, so it doesn’t work instantly, but it has a slow and long-lasting effect. It was really popular with the women working in brothels, so I thought you might want to try it…”
“Aaaaaah…”
Cornelia buried her face in her hands.
Roa must’ve noticed that she was acting a little off and wanted to be considerate. During dinner prep, she had gotten lost in thought and had gone unusually quiet—she was aware of it herself. She had tried to pass it off as being focused on the cooking, but apparently Roa had picked up on it anyway.
And after thinking it over, he’d come to… an entirely different conclusion.
He had waited until she was alone so as not to embarrass her, and despite clearly being mortified himself, he had brought the medicine with a blushing face.
Cornelia couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness.
“That’s not it. I was just thinking about something.”
She had been reflecting on Roa’s journey, especially the story about Eileen and the combat stimulant.
Lately, she’d been struggling with a fear that Roa’s support was making her overestimate her own strength. She had talked to Dietrich about it and somewhat gotten over the worst of it, but the feeling hadn’t completely disappeared.
Eileen’s dependency on the combat drug reminded her uncomfortably of herself and her reliance on Roa.
And now, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for Eileen and wonder if there was something she could do to help her.
That was what had been on her mind, and it had made her unusually quiet—quiet enough that Roa had noticed. Dietrich, who understood what was going on, had likely tried to cover for her, but Roa had ended up with a very different interpretation.
“…I see. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Thanks! But really, it’s nothing major. If something comes up, I’ll definitely ask.”
Cornelia smiled genuinely, touched by his concern.
Seeing that smile, Roa nodded with relief.
“Oh, but please do keep the medicine. It’s better than the stuff sold in shops. It’s got Angelica as the main ingredient, mixed with a bunch of other things. I usually go all-in on magical effects, but this one follows my grandma’s old recipe—she was an apothecary. Magic potions are a bit strong for regular use. This one works well for people like you, who get really moody and heavy during that time!”
“…”
Cornelia’s smile froze.
“…Where did you hear that I get moody and heavy? No—don’t answer. It was that idiot, wasn’t it?”
“Ah…”
Roa realized, too late, that he had said something he shouldn’t have.
Once he got talking, it was hard for him to stop—his worst habit. And yes, Dietrich had told him that, but it wasn’t something he should’ve repeated, especially not to her.
“I see. So when a guy hears about a woman not feeling well, and he immediately jumps to that, someone probably nudged him that way. So he said I get moody and heavy, huh? You know, the reason I get irritated is that idiot leader.”
A dark smile crept across Cornelia’s face—nothing like the warm one from moments ago.
Roa realized he had made a huge mistake, but it was far too late to backpedal.
“…Just don’t kill him, okay?”
That was all he could manage in Dietrich’s defense.
As long as he didn’t die, a healing potion could probably fix whatever damage she did.
“But I’ll gladly take the medicine. Thanks!”
“No, I… I’m sorry.”
Roa lowered his head, completely mortified.
<I was careless!! Run, kid!!>
Uncle Gry’s voice echoed frantically in Roa’s head.
“Wha—!?”
Roa turned toward the voice and saw Uncle Gry looking panicked. Just from his expression, Roa could tell something was terribly wrong.
At the same time, a deep rumbling sound began to fill the air.
It came from above, pouring down like thunder. The vibrations rattled Roa to the core.
Something massive was falling.
A white streak trailed through the night sky—a colossal object descending. Hundreds of meters wide… no, maybe close to a full kilometer.
And by the time he realized what it was, there was no time left to run.
<We're too late!>
“Baw!”
“Bawwwww!!”
Roa and Cornelia’s vision went dark.
Something had slammed into them, pinning them to the ground. It was soft—warm.
“Uncle Gry!?”
Roa immediately realized what had just hit him from the texture and scent.
Uncle Gry had thrown himself over them, spreading his wings wide to shield them both.
“Uncle Gry, what’s going on!?”
Roa cried out, startled by the sudden event, but Uncle Gry didn’t answer. He clearly didn’t have the luxury to explain.
A moment later, a sharp crack rang out, like something had burst.
<Whew… Thanks, twins.>
“What the hell just happened!?”
Uncle Gry’s relieved tone overlapped with Dietrich’s panicked shout.
<An enemy attack. A massive ice projectile was launched from an altitude beyond my detection range.>
The firelight returned to their vision—Uncle Gry had folded his wings.
He had shielded Roa with his body and Cornelia with his wings.
“Snow?”
White flakes were falling everywhere.
Roa stood slowly, eyes fixed on the surreal sight. The snow, lit by the campfire, sparkled gently.
The soldiers who had been roused by the earlier impact were still staring up, stunned, with no idea what had just happened.
It looked like a dream—but this was no time to be enchanted.
It was early summer. The season of camille blossoms had just passed. Even in this northern region of the continent, snow shouldn’t be falling.
“Uncle Gry! Is this magic!?”
Bernhart shouted with a flushed face, rushing up to Uncle Gry.
But Uncle Gry didn’t even glance at him. His eyes were still locked on the sky.
<A massive ice mass was fired down from above. Because it came from beyond my detection range, I reacted late. I managed to shield the kid and the noisy woman nearby… if the twins hadn’t seized control, the rest of you would’ve been crushed. Be sure to thank them.>
“Seized control? Of the magic!? That’s even possible!?”
<If it’s fire or ice magic, the twins can do it. Their instincts, along with the theory I’ve taught them, let them take control. They don’t have the mana to cast large spells, but hijacking control is easy enough. I can do it too, if it’s wind.>
“T-That’s incredible!”
<Quiet! Shut up and get away from me!>
Bernhart had been ready to bombard Uncle Gry with more questions, but the curt response shut him down.
He looked slightly frustrated for a moment but quickly retreated to help the rest of Nostalgia assess the situation.
It had all happened in the blink of an eye.
By the time anyone realized what was happening, it was already over.
The moment Uncle Gry and the twin magic wolves sensed the falling ice from the sky, they had dashed toward Roa.
Uncle Gry had initially planned to deflect the projectile—but there wasn’t enough time.
The massive weight of the ice combined with its descent speed meant he would need to use a chant-based spell, which would take too long.
If it had been just Uncle Gry and the twins, they could’ve easily avoided it, even with its massive size. But with Roa, who wouldn’t survive the escape velocity, that wasn’t an option.
So they changed plans—defense.
Even then, the barrier magic Uncle Gry could deploy in such a short time only covered a few meters around his body.
He wrapped himself over Roa and pulled Cornelia under his wing.
Fortunately, the tents where Nostalgia’s other members slept weren’t far off, so Uncle Gry had also managed to shield them enough to keep them alive—despite claiming otherwise, he had clearly taken care.
Bones might be broken, flesh torn—but with Roa’s magic potions, they would recover.
Protecting Roa was the priority.
Saving the rest was a bonus.
The twins had acted even further.
With one specializing in fire magic and the other in ice, their coordination was flawless.
Together, they had seized control of the ice spell, flipped its properties, and caused an internal heat surge that shattered the ice into harmless snow.
The investigation team owed their lives to that—but of course, the twins hadn’t done it for them.
They had only done it to ensure Roa wouldn’t be harmed. The others were just collateral benefit.
Neither Uncle Gry nor the twins had been concerned about the investigation team from the start.
Had the twins not destroyed the spell, the area would have been littered with bloody pulp.
<Got you! You think hiding your presence makes you safe? How childish!>
Suddenly, Uncle Gry barked.
Even Roa could see the predator’s grin on his face—it was vicious.
<Heh heh… Two of them, huh? That was a clever little trick—masking your presence and striking from beyond my detection range. Well done. Heh heh… I used to think you were just chicks with eggshells on your asses, but I see you’ve grown a bit. As a reward, I’ll give you the finest pain I can!>
Uncle Gry was staring at a point in the sky.
The snowfall had vanished, and stars twinkled in the clear night sky.
Roa looked that way too, but couldn’t see a thing.
Still, the twin wolves pressed close to Roa’s legs, teeth bared, also watching the sky.
Roa silently patted their heads.
<Heh… Looks like the twins are fired up too. Very well. Sit tight. I’ll drag them down.>
Uncle Gry let out a long, resonant cry.
It was a melodious call, almost like singing.
<Crimson petals scatter in the wind, kissing the water’s surface…>
“…What?”
Roa turned to Uncle Gry, surprised.
He was chanting.
Chant-based magic increased a spell’s power.
Given the nature of their attackers, launching a powerful spell wasn’t strange.
But Uncle Gry hated letting anyone hear his chants.
Now, not only Roa and the twins, but even members of Nostalgia were within earshot.
He was angry enough to forget his usual embarrassment.
Luckily, he was speaking quietly enough that only Roa and the twins could hear.
All his feathers and fur stood on end. His rage was suffocating, overwhelming everyone present.
Then came the sound of slicing wind—again from above.
This time, it wasn’t a single attack.
Hundreds of ice spears, each as tall as a man, rained down.
But a sudden gale blew through—scattering them into harmless shards.
<Hmph! Did you really think you could kill me with those toothpicks? A desperate magic attack like that can be dealt with no matter the situation. Go ahead, try casting another grand spell—if you’ve got any mana left!>
The powerful gust that shattered the spears of ice had been Uncle Gry’s magic.
For a human, it would be impossible to chant one spell while simultaneously manipulating another—but Uncle Gry made it look effortless.
<…The ripples on still water spread quietly, seeping across the clear surface, kindling a flame in a beloved heart. Now fall—O Shackles of the Wind Crest.>
Just as he spoke those words, something began to fall from the starry night sky.
Unlike the previous ice mass, it wasn’t plummeting at high speed—it was falling as if it had lost power.
<Come to me. I’ll give you the punishment you deserve.>
Uncle Gry watched the falling object with a wicked grin.
“Uncle Gry! No!”
Roa was the first to realize what was about to happen. Unaffected by Uncle Gry’s killing intent, he was able to stay calm and assess the situation.
“Everyone, run!!”
It was falling—straight down, drawn to something, directly toward their position.
“It’s coming down right on us! Run! If it hits, you’ll die! Dammit, think about where you’re dropping that thing!!”
Dietrich’s shout rang out. The final curse was clearly directed at Uncle Gry.
Thanks to his voice, the soldiers in the investigation party finally grasped what was happening. Though clumsy and panicked, they scattered and began to flee.
There might still be undead lurking in the area, but staying put would’ve been worse.
“Uncle Gry! Please, somewhere without people!”
<Heh heh heh. That thing tried to harm me, the twins, and the boy. I won’t rest until I deliver their punishment myself. Now—grovel before me!>
“Not right in front of us!!”
Roa grabbed onto Uncle Gry, nearly tearing out his feathers as he yelled.
But Uncle Gry didn’t listen.
And then—it fell, right before their eyes.
A violent tremor shook the ground, followed by a gust of wind that kicked up a cloud of dust.
Roa and the members of Nostalgia who remained were knocked to their knees.
The campfires were all snuffed out, and darkness swallowed the field.
Even so, Roa and the others had been protected by Uncle Gry’s magic. They were far safer than those who had fled.
Beyond the area Uncle Gry had shielded, the shockwave had caused further destruction. A nearby wagon had been knocked over, splintered debris scattered everywhere. The horses, still tethered, reared up and screamed, blood streaking their flanks.
It wasn’t clear if the fleeing soldiers had made it out unharmed. Screams echoed across the night from all directions.
“Bernhart!”
Dietrich shouted. There was no reply, but a glow of magic flared to life.
As the light opened up their vision, Roa and the rest of Nostalgia scanned the area to assess the damage.
The overturned wagon was a wreck. The horses were injured and bleeding, but fortunately, not fatally. They thrashed violently in their panic.
No human figures were visible. Those who’d survived seemed to be lying flat, terrified.
Miraculously, no one seemed to have died. Roa let out a breath of relief.
Dust continued to swirl in the air.
The only sounds were the faint cries of the wounded and the horses’ shrill whinnies.
And then, as the dust began to clear—
From the center of the impact zone, a black ribbon-like object shot toward Uncle Gry.
<Hmph. What did you think you could accomplish with a bit of shadow?>
Just before it reached him, the black streak was seared away by a flash of light.
It had been a shadow spell—burned away by Uncle Gry’s light magic.
<I’m not even good at using light magic, you know. And yet I can still block this so easily. You must’ve been lazing around in your nest, not training at all. What a disgrace.>
A gentle breeze blew through the air, sweeping away the remaining dust.
Beyond the clearing haze, the ground had split, earth overturned.
At the center of it all stood two gryphons.
They looked much like Uncle Gry, but lacked the same aura of authority.
Their eyes didn’t have the same terrifying glint.
Their feathers and fur were filthy and frayed, parts of their coats burned and ragged—likely the aftermath of Uncle Gry’s earlier spell.
Covered in dirt, the two were a mess.
<So, your magic is ice and shadow. I remember a pair that specialized in that. Must be them.>
Despite their ruined appearance, their eyes gleamed with a fierce light.
From those four eyes radiated an unmistakable hatred.
<Have you forgotten your debt to me? You’ve come to kill me?>
In answer, a blade of ice shot forward.
The one to intercept it was the blue magic wolf. It darted in front of Uncle Gry, caught the blade in its jaws, and crushed it like it was nothing.
The red wolf lunged in immediately after.
It sprang onto the two gryphons, landing a light kick with its hind legs.
A shrill shriek rang out—KyuUUU!—and the scent of scorched flesh filled the air.
The red wolf had seared their backs.
From behind, a tendril of shadow magic lashed out, aiming to ensnare the red wolf. But with a paw, the wolf pinned down a wing and burned it again. The searing pain disrupted the caster’s control, and the tendril vanished.
The gryphons tried to flee.
But just as they moved, a wall of ice rose in their path and slammed them back.
Their bodies crashed into an abandoned wagon, bursting it apart with an explosion of splinters.
The blue wolf defended.
The red wolf attacked.
And Uncle Gry stood watch, eyes locked in a death glare, ready for anything.
There was nowhere for the gryphons to run. No way to fight back.
<It’s over. We once had ties—but I’ll end this swiftly, without pain.>
A shadow.
That’s all it looked like.
Something massive and dark appeared overhead, right above the two fallen gryphons.
𑁋
