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Early DAR Vol. 4 Chapter 13 Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 15:33:04 +0000 UTCFull title: Starting a New Life for the Discarded All-Rounder
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Translator: Airis
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Chapter 13 - The Undead's Misfortune
“Five left!”
Dietrich shouted as he slashed clean through the animated skeleton in front of him, cutting down from above.
The dry crack of bone echoed, and the skeleton collapsed.
“Two coming from the rear! I’ll handle them!”
“Got it!”
Without panic, Dietrich turned at Cornelia’s call and swung his sword horizontally in one smooth motion.
Despite the poor visibility—lit only by the campfire in the night—his movements were flawless.
Even with his back turned, he struck with precision as if he could see every motion.
Cornelia fought nearby, facing off against another group of skeletons.
She wore light gear instead of her usual full armor, and in her hands was a massive war hammer almost as tall as she was.
She swung it with ease, not even short of breath.
Each hit shattered a skeleton instantly with brutal force.
“Alright, that’s all of them!”
Within seconds, Dietrich and Cornelia had wiped out every last skeleton.
“Seriously? It’s already over?”
Kristoff’s voice called out.
“Yeah, sorry. You’re up? They were just skeletons. The two of us could handle it. If it got bad, we were going to fall back to your position.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get back to keeping watch.”
As Dietrich slid his sword back into its sheath, Kristoff yawned and returned to the tent.
This was the monster territory around the Citadel Dungeon—undead roamed freely here.
For a normal adventurer, this wasn’t a place to camp. Just surviving here would be a challenge.
And yet, the members of Nostalgia were making camp like it was nothing.
“Still, having a safe zone really is a blessing. Cornelia, we need to gather the remains before the skeletons start reviving!”
No matter how thoroughly they were crushed, skeletons would reconstruct themselves and rise again.
To truly eliminate them, proper purification was needed.
“Hey, Cornelia! What’s wrong?”
Dietrich called out, but she didn’t respond.
He tried again—still nothing.
Worried she might be hurt, he ran over. But she wasn’t injured—just standing there with a complicated expression, holding her war hammer.
“...Hey, Leader. I’m... kinda feeling down. I think I finally understand how Crack of Dawn ended up the way they did…”
“...Huh? What’re you talking about?”
Her sudden remark confused Dietrich.
Crack of Dawn—Roa’s former party.
After losing Roa, and the Gryphon and twin magic wolves who followed him, the party quickly collapsed.
“I mean, we’re not strong enough to be wandering around a place like this, right!? So why are we camping out in a place where people say even one step could kill you!? We just fought skeletons and now we’re acting like it’s no big deal! Shouldn’t we be moving now before they revive!?”
Skeletons revived quickly. And when they did, they called more of their kind.
Once you killed them, you had to flee before they came back.
They weren’t something average adventurers could handle.
The more you killed, the more would come.
To fully eliminate them, you needed healing magic or potions—only then could you purify them.
Undead were beings of darkness, and healing effects reversed to become fatal damage.
But most adventurers didn’t have a healer—certainly not a Saint.
Nor could they afford to waste potions.
So all they could do... was run.
“And this hammer! It’s amazing! Why is it so easy to swing with this much power!? I kinda want to make it my main weapon! But if I do that, I’ll just end up looking like some brainless musclehead woman!”
Well... you kind of already do, Dietrich thought—but he wisely kept it to himself. If he agreed, he’d probably get kicked across the forest.
“...Well, whatever.”
“That’s it?”
“Anyway! The point is, I’m starting to think I’m stronger than I really am. We’ve been traveling and camping safely because of that holy barrier artifact Roa gave us. We can deal with skeletons thanks to the potions Roa gave us. We’re fighting easily thanks to weapons forged by the smith Roa introduced us to. And yet—I keep forgetting all that and thinking it’s my strength!”
“...Yeah…”
Now Dietrich understood what she meant.
Cornelia hated the idea of mistaking Roa’s support for her own strength.
But things had been going so smoothly that she realized she was starting to believe it.
That bothered her—because she held herself to a high standard.
The area around the Citadel Dungeon was crawling with undead—drawn to human souls.
It was never supposed to be a place people could safely enter.
But the sacred barrier artifact Roa had given them kept undead away.
Anything within its range was a safe zone.
That was why Nostalgia had made it this far without trouble—and why they could camp here at all.
The artifact couldn’t kill the undead, but it repelled them.
The group could choose to fight or ignore them freely. That flexibility made all the difference.
And if they did want to eliminate them, Roa had also provided healing potions and holy water.
The only reason they were still here safely was because of Roa.
“Now that I think about it... Crack of Dawn probably wasn’t like that at first, either. If I’m starting to fool myself even while being cautious, it’s no wonder people who didn’t think at all started acting arrogant. And they even had all those amazing familiars... all thanks to Roa, too.”
Sure, the party’s personal flaws had played a role.
But that wasn’t the whole story—Cornelia wanted to make that clear.
Roa had simply done what he could to protect his party.
That support ended up backfiring.
Seeing her speak so seriously, Dietrich gave her a smile.
“You really are the best, Cornelia.”
“Huh?”
“You totally get it. And you’re keeping yourself grounded. That’s why I know you’ll never lose your way. We can count on you to keep us in line.”
He beamed at her—a warm, dependable smile.
It wasn’t backed by logic or evidence, just confidence.
And somehow, that alone made Cornelia’s anxiety fade away.
Dietrich might act like an idiot most of the time, but in these little moments, he gave people peace of mind.
With just a few words, he could ease someone’s heart.
It wasn’t because he said anything special.
It was just... who he was.
Guess I’m getting soft on him, Cornelia thought.
And honestly... she didn’t mind.
“Well, it's only natural to have doubts. If—if—you really ever did lose your way, I’d punch you straight back on track!”
“...Then I’ll stop you if you go astray. Even if I have to kill you.”
Cornelia gave a small smile as she lightly swung her war hammer just past the tip of Dietrich’s nose.
“Wait, hey—that’s not funny! I said I’d punch you! Why do I get killed?!”
“Because nothing less would stop you! Anyway, we need to clean up the skeletons before they revive!”
With her spirits reset, Cornelia smiled and began gathering the remains of the skeletons.
“This place really is crawling with undead.”
Though she was clearly forcing herself a bit, seeing Cornelia return to her usual self was enough for Dietrich to get moving too.
His grumbling was justified—they’d been doing nothing but skeleton-hunting since they arrived.
Sometimes they spotted ghosts too, but dealing with them would waste potions, so they ignored them.
“Uncle Gry did mention before we left that there might be a Lich around here. If that's true, it makes sense the lesser undead are more active.”
“Is that how it works? Still feels like too many to me…”
Something about it didn’t sit right.
Dietrich couldn’t shake the feeling that something more powerful was drawing the undead here.
But for now, he kept clearing out the skeletons.
𑁋
Morning came, and the Citadel Dungeon investigation team was on the move again.
Though there had been no incidents during the night, the trauma from the previous day’s rabbit attack still lingered.
Most people had barely slept.
“So tired…”
Roa, too, was running on little sleep.
<What’s this? You’re unusually sluggish today, brat.>
Uncle Gry, walking beside Roa at the back of the formation, peered at him with interest.
The twin magic wolves glanced up at him as well, clearly worried.
Roa normally didn’t need much sleep.
Even several nights of just a few hours was fine for him.
It was a habit born during his time with Crack of Dawn, when he would stay up late working and wake early every day.
He had snuck out last night to visit Puffy’s forest, but he’d returned with time to spare and had gotten enough sleep—normally, he would’ve been fine.
“I couldn’t really sleep…”
<What an ungrateful brat. You used me as your pillow, didn’t you? I offer the finest sleeping surface imaginable!>
Uncle Gry, confident in his sleep-supporting qualities, huffed in mock offense.
“It wasn’t that. I was thinking about... the combat drug stuff.”
The Gaokerena leaves were important too, but Roa planned to experiment with those at his usual pace.
Even after everything Puffy had said, Roa still didn’t believe he could ever become a Sage.
So he intended to take it easy with the leaves—failure was expected.
But the combat drug? That was a real problem—something happening now.
If the Nemophila Knights were acting recklessly due to its effects, there was a real chance they could drag the entire team into disaster.
After all, the very people leading this investigation were likely the ones using it.
Even so, Roa still wanted everyone to make it back safely.
That had been his intention since this journey began.
And if that meant relying more on Uncle Gry and the twins, so be it.
Helping each other was the foundation of adventuring.
A comrade’s life was irreplaceable.
But realistically, there wasn’t much Roa could do about it.
The combat drug was a banned magic potion—but if the knights were using it, it might be state-sanctioned.
If so, he had no right to tell them to stop.
Worse, just mentioning it could get him in trouble; accused of knowing forbidden information, even labeled a criminal.
He couldn’t act carelessly. He couldn’t speak out.
Thinking about it had kept him awake.
<What, that was enough to ruin your sleep? You’re still the same timid little brat. Let the fools destroy themselves; no need for us to get involved.>
Uncle Gry’s tone was dismissive, as if it were the most trivial matter in the world.
“But what if we end up in danger because of them?”
<Impossible! You have me—and the twins! Isn’t that right?>
“Waf!” came the strong reply from the wolves.
Clearly, they were confident in their ability to protect Roa.
“But still... if possible, I want everyone in this investigation team to make it home.”
<I’m not babysitting anyone who goes looking for death.>
“But—”
<But, but, but. Enough with the buts. Face reality.>
Just as Roa frowned and fell into silent thought, a commotion broke out at the front of the formation.
“We’re out of the forest!”
A soldier shouted, followed by a round of cheers.
<So we’ve finally made it out.>
“Yeah, looks like it.”
<But what are they cheering for? This was the safe part. From here on, it’s a world ruled by magic beasts. For the powerless, it’s nothing but a land of death. They’re celebrating their arrival in hell.>
Uncle Gry’s cold voice cut through the soldiers’ cheers.
They knew full well that beyond the forest lay the deathtrap known as the Citadel Dungeon.
But the memory of the rabbits must have shaken them so deeply that they couldn’t help but celebrate escaping the forest.
They didn’t yet realize—the true nightmare was only just beginning.
𑁋
