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Early DAR Vol. 4 Chapter 13 Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 16:02:22 +0000 UTCFull title: Starting a New Life for the Discarded All-Rounder
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Translator: Airis
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Beyond the forest was a hill.
Or rather, the land beyond the forest dipped into a basin-like depression.
A gentle slope stretched out before them, leading into a vast plain.
There were patches of green, but most of it was open grassland.
The land’s natural structure absorbed and accumulated mana, attracting magic beasts that thrived on it and binding them to this place.
And far in the distance—something that didn’t belong among the grasslands.
A dark, ominous fortress.
“That’s... the Citadel Dungeon?”
Roa muttered as his eyes locked on the unnatural structure.
It would take at least two full days to walk there.
And yet it was clearly visible—that alone spoke to its size.
The place was ringed by layers of fortified walls.
A towering central spire rose above them all.
<That’s right. Been a long time.>
“So this was your old home, huh, Uncle Gry.”
Uncle Gry had called the Citadel Dungeon his old home, but he never spoke much about it.
Roa figured there must be a reason he’d left it behind and chose not to pry.
Besides, even if he asked, Uncle Gry likely wouldn’t tell him anyway. He was the type to freely talk about nonsense yet keep anything personal locked away.
Uncle Gry narrowed his eyes at the Citadel Dungeon, then turned to Roa.
<The bones are coming.>
“Bones... you mean Skeletons?”
<Yes. They’re drawn by the presence of the living. No fresh ones among them, but I’m not dealing with those things.>
By “fresh ones,” Uncle Gry meant Zombies.
It was said that over time, Zombies eventually lost all their flesh and became Skeletons.
Both were corpses turned into undead monsters by miasma.
They had no will of their own but were drawn to the souls of the living and came to kill.
They behaved differently, though.
Skeletons moved only slightly slower than humans, revived quickly, and summoned others.
Zombies were slower, likely due to their heavy flesh, and didn’t revive right away or call for reinforcements.
In that sense, Skeletons could be considered the superior type.
But Uncle Gry hated Zombies. He even avoided casting magic on them if he could help it.
The reason? Bugs.
He despised the worms and maggots infesting rotting flesh—so much so that he disliked Skeletons by association.
“Well, I can handle undead, so that’s fine. But how many are coming?”
<A few thousand, give or take. It’s been a long time since living people came near this place.
The whole area’s going to converge on us. But don’t worry—once they’re all wiped out, they won’t come back for a while.>
“A few thousand…”
Roa furrowed his brow at the number.
He could handle it, but the knights and soldiers here couldn’t.
They had no healers capable of using purification magic, which was the undead’s greatest weakness.
Healers were rare and tightly guarded by the Church. Even those with weak abilities were treated like precious resources.
There was no way someone like that would be assigned to a disposable unit like this one.
Healing potions also worked on the undead, but they likely didn’t have enough to deal with thousands.
Roa did—he could make his own—but that didn’t change the fact that they were supposed to be rare.
He sighed, thinking.
“Guess it’s up to me and the twins.”
Using the sacred barrier artifact could keep the undead away, but if the creatures avoided only the area around the investigation team, it would raise suspicions.
Roa’s artifact was smaller than normal, and its existence needed to stay secret.
The Church monopolized their manufacture; if it was discovered that Roa had made one himself, he risked making the Church his enemy.
Only people like Nostalgia, who already knew the situation, could see it in use.
Even if he ordered everyone here to keep quiet, he doubted the soldiers—sworn to their nation—would lie in their reports.
“Skeletons! We’ve got Skeletons incoming!”
A scout’s cry echoed through the area.
“Don’t bother running, they’ll just chase us! We hold our ground—get ready!”
Joel’s voice followed immediately after.
Turning the wagons around to flee would take too long.
They had no choice but to fight, and Joel made that decision without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Eileen, the supposed leader of this investigation team, showed no sign of leaving her carriage.
The female knights of the Nemophila Knights had gathered around her, seemingly determined to protect her alone.
At this point, Joel was the one actually leading the group.
No one knew who the real commander was anymore.
Not long after, Skeletons began appearing at the bottom of the slope.
“That’s some unusual armor and weapons... I’ve never even seen antiques like those.”
Roa gazed calmly at the approaching Skeletons, murmuring to himself.
Undead were the one type of monster Roa had always been good at handling.
Back when he was with Crack of Dawn, the party had a Saint who could use healing magic, and Roa had produced a large stockpile of healing potions.
They’d actively taken on undead extermination quests that other adventurers avoided.
He was experienced and well-prepared—especially since Uncle Gry had briefed him ahead of time.
The Skeletons looked exactly as expected: armored, armed, and made of nothing but bones.
All of their gear was ancient—rusted, broken, bent.
The area around the Citadel Dungeon was once a great battlefield.
No doubt many of the weapons and armor came from that era; some Roa had never seen before.
“There’s too many! We’re done for!”
“We’re going to die here…”
As the number of Skeletons increased, murmurs of despair spread among the soldiers.
The knights held their tongues, but their pale, tense faces betrayed their fear.
To normal people, undead were a nightmare. They just wouldn’t stay dead.
Only someone like Roa—who found them easier than other monsters—could deal with them calmly.
Both knights and soldiers now understood just how naive they’d been about the Citadel Dungeon.
They hadn’t expected to be attacked by so many monsters this quickly.
<Feels like there are more than before. Maybe one of the nearby countries sent in a large-scale subjugation force... or maybe the undead went outside the dungeon and attacked a village. They don’t often leave thanks to the dense mana here, but it’s not impossible. Either way, this cowardly little army’s about to join their ranks.>
Uncle Gry’s voice was relaxed as ever.
To him, it wasn’t his problem.
The soldiers were shaking, many too terrified to even hold their weapons properly.
“Alright. Time to work. I’m counting on you, you two.”
“Baw!”
“Baw!”
Roa pulled something from his Magic Bag.
A huge pot—
A stockpot so large you couldn’t wrap your arms around it, the kind used in massive kitchens. Just an ordinary iron one.
“Here we go.”
The red magic wolf stepped forward, and Roa placed the pot on its back.
It was so big it completely hid the wolf from view when seen from above.
Even so, the wolf wagged its tail cheerfully, unbothered by the weight.
“Let’s fill it.”
Next, Roa pulled out a small barrel.
He opened the seal and poured the liquid inside into the pot.
Of course, the weight increased quickly—but the magic wolf didn’t flinch.
The pot stood upright, steady on its back, as if fused to it.
Roa continued, emptying barrel after barrel.
“What in the world are you doing?! The Skeletons are coming!”
One of the nearby soldiers shouted at the strange sight, but he didn’t dare approach; Uncle Gry was right there beside Roa, and his presence was too intimidating.
“I thought I’d dispose of the Skeletons.”
“Dispose…?”
Roa had said it clearly, dispose.
The soldier, however, couldn’t believe his ears.
He hadn’t said subdue, or drive them back—he said dispose.
It was a word used for pests or vermin, for creatures overwhelmingly weaker than oneself.
It didn’t fit Skeletons at all.
“Alright, it’s full. We’re ready! Now then—”
The Skeletons were already drawing close; a battle with the soldiers could break out at any moment.
Just then—
“Now is the time to show you my strength! Captain Eileen and the Nemophila Knights—advance!”
Eileen rode forward on a white horse.
Even Roa—and his familiars—stared in stunned silence.
Her full-body armor gleamed silver.
Adorned with decorative blue larkspur flowers from head to toe, it was as gaudy as armor could be.
The female knights around her wore the same design, but only Eileen had a cape and a plumed helm that marked her as the commander.
Her weapon was a silver lance, suited for horseback.
It gleamed in the sunlight—so much it hurt to look at.
She stood out completely; any monster would naturally make her its first target.
<Hahaha… she’s finally shown herself!>
Uncle Gry chuckled with delight.
“Aaaah…”
Roa couldn’t hold back a groan.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and looked to the sky in exasperation.
It was rare for Roa—who always tried to respect others—to react this way.
“Come! Follow my lead!”
Shouting proudly from horseback, she looked every bit the noble leader.
It was hard to believe this was the same person who, just days ago, had trembled in her carriage during the rabbit attack and refused to step outside.
She was like a completely different person.
Roa knew why.
The combat drug.
She hadn’t taken it during the rabbit attack—but she clearly had now.
The euphoric glow on her face, the fearless confidence; that was the drug’s effect.
The knights around her also wore the same inappropriate smiles.
They must have taken it too.
<Brat! Twins! Don’t interfere just yet!>
“Huh? But—”
“Baw!”
“Baw!”
Even the twin wolves barked in protest.
But Uncle Gry was clearly enjoying the show.
He’d already claimed a high perch overlooking the battlefield and was lounging there comfortably.
<Relax. We’ll step in before there are casualties. They’ve come all this way; we may as well let them get some battle experience.>
Roa didn’t like people who made trouble for others, which was why he didn’t get along with Eileen.
But Uncle Gry liked her.
No doubt he saw her as an amusing jester—someone who would entertain him with foolish antics, mess up the battlefield, get herself hurt, and put on a pathetic display.
To him, Eileen was the perfect spectacle.
The Nemophila Knights charged ahead, rushing toward the group of Skeletons.
Other knights tried to stop them, but it was too late.
Their reckless advance shattered the formation that had been prepared for a proper defense.
The male knights had no choice but to chase after them on horseback.
The soldiers, now lacking direction, began to panic, unsure of what to do.
The Nemophila Knights clashed with the Skeletons.
At first, they had the upper hand.
Their opening blows cut through the Skeletons easily.
But from that point forward, the tide turned.
Skeletons didn’t feel pain.
They weren’t stunned by wounds.
Even with an arm chopped off or a spear through their chest, they kept moving.
Even as their comrades fell, they kept fighting.
The Nemophila Knights, who had never faced undead before, quickly lost control of the fight.
Their style was suited to opponents who flinched—humans, beasts.
It had no effect on the undead.
“What?! Why?!”
Only when they were surrounded did they realize—this fight was not like the ones they knew.
Skeletons clung to the horses, stabbing upward as they were kicked away.
The knights, trapped in place, cut and stabbed with swords and lances, but every fallen foe was replaced by another.
At this rate, the Nemophila Knights would be annihilated.
Their mounted charge had outpaced the foot soldiers, so reinforcements wouldn’t arrive in time.
<Ahh! All it took was one charge and they’ve ruined everything! Hahahaha!>
“This isn’t funny! We’ve got to step in, or people are going to die—please!”
“Baw!!”
At Roa’s signal, the red wolf took off running, tail wagging with excitement.
The huge pot on its back didn’t sway in the slightest.
Its incredible agility kept the pot perfectly stable.
The liquid inside barely rippled; not a single drop spilled.
“Alright, time to prep the backup.”
Roa pulled out another stockpot, identical to the first, and placed it on the blue wolf’s back.
The wolf wagged its tail just as eagerly.
“Um... what is that...?”
One of the nearby soldiers called out to Roa timidly, eyes fixed on the red wolf racing across the battlefield.
Half the soldiers had gone to back up the knights, but the rest remained behind to protect the wagons.
The male knights had also charged ahead without giving orders, so those left behind defaulted to standard monster defense protocol.
“That’s a special healing potion. It retains its effects even when heated.”
“A healing potion...? Then why the pot?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“...If you say so.”
Still unconvinced, the soldier turned his eyes back to the red wolf sprinting toward the chaos.
As the red magic wolf approached the group of Skeletons, white steam began to rise from the pot on its back.
The mist thickened rapidly, spreading like fog across the surrounding area.
Soon, the Skeletons began to change.
Those touched by the steam stopped moving—
and in the blink of an eye, they crumbled to the ground.
“...What’s going on?”
One of the soldiers shouted in surprise, but Roa continued pouring liquid into the pot carried by the blue wolf.
The steam from the red wolf's stockpot kept spreading, and the Skeletons continued to collapse one after another.
“It’s steam. Healing potion vapor—it’s purifying the Skeletons.”
Roa smiled with quiet satisfaction at the results of his work.
𑁋
