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ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO TAPPEI NAGATSUKI, THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR OF RE:ZERO STARTING A LIFE IN A DIFFERENT WORLD FROM ZERO, THIS IS A TRANSLATION OF THE FREE JAPANESE WEB NOVEL INTO ENGLISH
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ーーA woman, a sole woman existed.
The woman was sentimental. The woman was constantly crying. Sensitive to ache, she continued to constantly cry.
The reason for her grieving and lamentation was none but one, she could not forgive her own powerlessness.
Surroundings of the woman overflowed with constant dispute, conflict, scramble.
No matter how many times she raised her voice, no matter how many times she clung to them, she wept and wailed, and such sadness of hers never came to an end. Which is why, the woman cursed her fate.
Continuing to curse, curse, curse her fate, the woman came to notice. That no matter how much she may cry, it was all but vain.
The woman, who came to notice that, afterwards desired what was merely, nothing but pure power.
Desiring power capable of overwhelming all others, and mowing down everything, the woman overcame her limits, acquiring as much power as she could, obtaining all the strength she wished for, she commenced her efforts.
What she needed, was not the power to hurt. Neither the power to rob.
She seeked overwhelming strength, which nobody would be able to catch up to. She believed that she could end the conflict with it.
The woman who continued to shed tears, seeked to obtain the power which would let her live a future without any tears.
Just as when she had been powerless, she was unable to stop the conflict by clashing strength with strength.
Her voice did not reach through. Her wish did not come true. Lamentation kept at a distance, sorrow concealed the sky.
How, can they live so unconcerned. How, can they hurt others. How, can they think of continuing to live despite being hurt. How, how, how are they not able to believe, that another path may exist.
“The children are crying. The elderly are crying. Men are crying. Women are crying. Everyone is crying. Even still, how comeーー !!”
In order to bring an end to that, she wished for nothing but power.
Training herself intensely, she endured all pain that came with it, and realized her will of steel.
Finally the woman attained it. The unparalleled strength, the overwhelming state of mind which would not let people come close to each other.
Standing on the battlefield, the woman raised a loud voice, calling for the battle to stop.
Holding down the power of all others with her own power, crushing down the cries of all others with her own power, mincing all malice with her own power, she did all this effort only for the sake of stopping the stream of tears.
Striking the ones who were wielding swords, kicking the ones who relied on magic, smashing the ones who possessed bare fangs, she pulverised each and every one who seeked to battle.
However, for fighting back the fighting woman, for overpowering the powerful woman, the numbers of the swords, magics, and fangs kept rising.
That seemed like a spiral, the spiral of conflict.
Aside from opposing strength with strength, nobody held the response of wanting to be left alive.
That is why, nobody believed in a path aside from the one of battle and victorious gains.
Her self, who believed that, was also, in the end, exercising violence.
Suspending her fists drenched in blood, and looking up at the sky remaining smeared with blood, the woman wailed in lament.
The battle would not come to a halt. All hard work and effort had been in vain, and the tears of herself and others would not ever come to an end.
Within the chest of the ceaselessly running woman, suddenly recurred melancholy.
Tears streamed. Overflowed.
They were not the ceaselessly flowing warm tears, but cold tears of powerlessness and despair.
However, alongside, gushed out a different deep emotion.
Dyeing the interior of her chest with dusk, along with that, her field of vision turning deep red, such violent emotion that could turn her face pale.
The woman acquainted herself with the true identity of that emotion, whilst continuing to cry.
Getting to know the name of that emotion, getting to know the origin of that emotion, the woman came to an understanding.
All this time, her self had not been crying out of sadness.
Her self had merely, always been drowned in rage.
The name of that emotion, is what people call rageーー no, people call it to be 『Wrath』.
A world which coerces tears, people who can never stop fighting, the absurdity of life inevitably coming to an end.
ーーLet them, have a taste of my fists.
Before anyone could know, the woman stood up, clearing away the dirt on her sullied knees, once again, she dashed.
Diving in the centre of the people yet continuing to battle, striking all of their faces, she screamed.
Stop fighting. Look at the sky. Feel the wind. Scent the flowers. Live, with your families and lovers.
At the voice of the woman, for the first time, unrest swept through the battlefield.
Fists that could fissure the earth, kicks that could make the sky sough, all of it let the people live.
Wounds closed, wails muted, laps bent with warmth, and the conflict rendered meaningless.
Lives returned to ordinariness, and the voices of weep and wail disappeared from the battlefield.
The tears of the people halted. The people showed gratitude to the woman. Raising their voices, raising their hands, smiling.
However, at that moment, the form of the woman was suddenly nowhere to be seen.
It was a matter of course.
There yet remained things the woman must do. Neither did she have the idle time to look back, nor any reason to halt her feet.
Seeking a world where nobody shed tears, where there was no strife, where nothing was robbed away.
Continuing to run, run, run, the woman continued to swing her fists.
Until the tears of all eventually halt. Until the warm droplets of water which wet her cheeks, halt.
ーーThe 『Witch of Wrath』 flared rage towards sadness, and continued to run evermore, evermore.