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Translated By :
- Gracedharperd (/u/Gracedharperd)
- Paper
Contributions By:
- Archbishop (/u/Archbishop)
- Archbishop (/u/Archbishop_17)
- Hayate
Proofread By :
- Setowi (/u/Setowi)
- Azeem
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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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――I am afraid, that no one would believe it.
???: [My name is Natsuki Subaru! Servant of the Roswaal mansion―― and one and only Knight to Emilia-sama, Royal Candidate!]
At that moment, almost everyone in the hall of the Royal Castle turned their heads towards the self-proclaimed Knight.
The one speaking, unable to hide his tendency to get swept up by the flow and by his somewhat fickle emotions, had stated thus―― And upon hearing it, there had been a single person, a single man who had been deeply moved.
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Picking up the Sword of Selection from the ground, he felt it fit so perfectly in the palm of his hand, very much so that the urge to break into tears arose within him for some reason. It was almost as if he truly were under the delusion that the sword had selected him in particular.
Even though, in this instant, there was absolutely no reason for him to be feeling so proud in such a manner, within his own self.
???: [Sh―― Hk!]
Compared to his broken beloved sword, his new blade felt a smidgeon thicker, the tip heavier. However, if he based himself on that and swung the blade, he would be able to more or less get used to the differences immediately.
Not all battles could be handled with only the usage of a weapon one was accustomed to. It was a source of pride for him, that he had trained himself to imagine all possible situations, and that he was able to do battle with any sword at hand.
Reid: [Really borin’, haa, ya prick.]
His sharp thrust was carried by said pride, and it was aimed right between the yawning man’s brows. However, the man just tilted his head, the tip of the blade merely coming close to its target. As soon as the scarlet-haired man noticed a few hairs having been severed, he jumped back.
He pressed his weight hard against the ground and jumped back, thanks to his heels remaining hot due to the footwork.
He formed some distance between the two of them.
In a battle, evaluating the sword skills of one’s opponent was not the only essential thing. Neither was it about just the sword in the hands. The rhythm of the feet and the pace of the legs were likewise extremely crucial.
Of course, the swordplay mattered as well. To get the optimum position, to get the fastest pace, in order to maximize one’s potential, one must not use only their hands and legs; instead one must use every part of your body.
Therefore, it was imperative that beginners in the art of swordplay learn proper footwork first and foremost.
Truly, he believed he had been fortunate to be blessed with a great teacher. Although that teacher’s skills were now below his current skills, this was due to age, a factor that no one was able to circumvent.
Nevertheless, there was no doubt that he was quite a skillful person in teaching things to his students even beyond their own strength. He enjoyed speaking not only about the practice of swordsmanship, but also how such an art came to be, and in what form it had been passed down.
Naturally, there was enjoyment in listening to such things. Naturally, there was honor in being able to practice such things.
???: [――――]
Catching up towards the man with a leap, he aimed his sword down to where the man was about to land.
Up, down, left, right. Three of those directions were guarded, and the one with the highest probability to deliver the killing blow was from below.
Reid: [This again, ya prick.]
His sword, which swung towards the man’s chest from below, was parried with ease by the man’s stick. Jabbing into the blade’s path and coming into contact with it, the stick easily deflected his sword. Even if he had seen it coming, the sword swing took less than a second―― to be able to do that meant the man was exceedingly skilled and had fine-grained control over his power, to the extent that he could even thread a needle with ease.
???: [――Hk.]
He gasped in surprise as his heavy swing brought his sword over his head. It created a small opening as he stumbled slightly and broke posture, and he thought to use a blade of wind―― but right now, that choice was unavailable to him.
The magic which he could use as a diversion, did not release. Instead, only a weak spot was created.
???: [Kaaagh!]
He ate a front kick to his side, and the bare foot’s nails dug into the gaps between his internal organs. In the moment he felt that his body was incapable of taking any more pressure and was about to break, the foot that had been stuck inside him twisted, causing his viscera excruciating, screaming pain.
He was blown away. In an instant, he went flying from the impact, seemingly defying inertia.
However, even that was not enough to absorb the force of that kick. As his surroundings spun, the impact he received on his body reverberated to his head and gave rise to an urge to retch. Even so, He kept his eyes on his opponent and slammed his feet on the ground as he landed, maintaining his posture.
His breathing was rough. It would take him some time to recover and catch his breath.
He emptied the contents of his lungs, exhaling the entirety of the oxygen in his body. And after having done so, after all the contents of his body had been expelled, he forcibly reminded his body to breathe slowly, as to calm his ragged breath.
Reid: [――――]
Breathe, breathed[1]. After that, he would continue the battle, because he had to continue this fight.
???: [――――]
He saw the red-haired man standing with a smile plastered on his smug face, about ten meters away.
Again, he dashed forward, towards the grinning man. The edges of the wooden chopsticks and the steel blade collided, everything to peel that calm smile off his face. From there, the real battle――
Reid: [So pretentious. There are truths and lies in a battle, ya prick. Are ya really readin’ it out of a picture book?!]
???: [――Ah.]
The distance between him and the man shrunk in the blink of an eye. The man’s incredible speed left him stunned.
To be precise, it all actually happened in the blink of an eye. The man closed the distance of ten meters in a mere moment. A simple stick appeared in front of his own eyes. In order to protect himself, he immediately raised his blade, though while making that important action, he left the rest of his body unguarded. This resulted in two chopstick blows being delivered onto him, one to the side of his head and one to the chest.
A piercing shock hit him. The sharpness of that blow would make his consciousness fade faster than the actual pain. He clenched his teeth and stomped the ground vigorously, so he could desperately scrape back together his own fading consciousness.
???: [Ohhh, ah!]
Howling in a baritone, he swung his sword in a crescent-form arc towards the man. The man jumped, as if he was avoiding the graceful dance until death and struck his side with his elbow. His consciousness was shaken again.
He was thrown off his feet, and his fighting spirit was curbed by the pain that gradually spread out in his soles. Henceforth, he opted for the strike his body was most accustomed to.
Simultaneous chants of fire and water, a three-way attack together with the sword――all missed their mark.
There was neither fire nor ice, for this was merely an artistic mistake which he had repeatedly made when he was training and training and training to the point of being labelled “the Finest”. If his opponent were a normal one, this surely would have had sufficient to down them.
Reid: [Bang!]
The highest peak of a Knight’s swordsmanship, it was easily blown away by the chopsticks in the hands of the man.
The sticks struck his knee and stabbed his stomach, making him vomit up gastric juice; it was quite the unpleasant sight. Being continuously struck down by the stick from all directions, his body was about to collapse.
Reid: [Ohh?]
He fell back instead of forward, and kept his body up by quickly extending out his arm. Taking advantage of this moment, he let loose a swing of his leg using his backwards rotation with astonishing momentum. A sound escaped the man because he had not expected it, and yet he evaded it.
He continued to rotate backwards, and opened up a greater distance between the two of them. Blood was pouring out of his nose. He wiped it with his white sleeve. His uniform was stained by bright, crimson red paint. Unpleasant.
He did not care. He let out a sharp breath and put his whole spirit into the blade in his right hand.
To reach it, was to keep going for it. To be strong, was to stay strong.
Reid: [Ya’re fucking pathetic, ya prick. Can you even lift yer sword, ya prick? Haven’t lifted my sword for anythin’ else for three months straight, ya prick. I’ve cut light down, the fuck’ve ya cut down?]
???: [You, right here, right now――]
Reid: [The fuck does that mean, ya prick. The fuck can ya do to me, ya prick? Ya can’t do shit. No swingin’ at it “til ya reach it. Don”t swing at it “til ya reach it. ”Til ya can, no swingin’. Don’t swing “til ya can. Stop talkin” “bout all the shit ya wanna do when ya can”t even do ‘em, ya prick.]
Instead of a refutation, he utterly destroyed the sword’s blow with immense, immense strength.
As a response to this action, the man struck ten more blows down onto him.
???: [――――]
His consciousness was swaying, but he was not falling. Why was he not falling? It was because――
Reid: [Lackin’, ya prick. “Tis ain”t enough, ya prick. This ain’t a place for ya to be comin’ to. Ya’re outta yer element. Y’ain’t the one for the job. Ya weren’t invited.]
He just must be strong. He just must prove it with his sword.
A name, a house, a family, a master, a companion, a friend, Spirits bound to his soul, he had lost all of those.
The only thing that was left for him, was this. All that he had left, was himself.
What he himself had accumulated, shapeless, that was all that remained.
This was the only proof of his sole, own being.
Reid: [Disgustin’, ya prick. Are you tryin’ to put up a front, ya prick? Are ya satisfied just bein’ a cheap imitation of others, ya prick? Ya and yer sword are both fuckin’ boring.]
There had been a time in which he had aimed for the peak of swordsmanship.
He had once wondered if he could aim for that place, it was something that had been stuck on his mind.
Soon, he realized that the bar was set too high, and gave up.
When he saw him, that man with hair of crimson, the boy gripping a sword in his hand, he discovered he carried something so selflessly grand as to inspire admiration.
Reid: [Ain’t nobody lookin’ at’cha. Ain’t nobody got expectations on ya. Ya’re naive if ya thinkin’ I’m playin’ ‘round. Yer punches ‘n kicks are easy, ya prick.]
He too had once yearned for it, for his life to be filled with tales of grandeur.
To stand shoulder to shoulder with those people, was not to be for his current lacking self.
That was the reason why he must risk his life. So desperately, wretchedly, that dream which he had then cast aside, he remembered.
???: [――――]
His blue eye, not covered by the eyepatch, along with his disheveled long hair of flame, overlapped with the youth who had been the impetus behind him desisting of his dream once before, as well as with one of his many aspirations he held thereafter.
Diligently endeavoring in the hopes of one day reaching it, that was how he believed his life to have been spent.
Reid: [Ain’t enough, ya prick. Y’ain’t enough at all―― Have ya been skippin’ life?]
His yearning towards that what he craved for, was knocked out from him by the beating of the stick.
He could not do it by swinging his sword; it was impossible to hit the one facing him with a sword. Efforts to keep fighting were meaningless. The blood and sweat that had been shed were worthless. In this life of his, the life that was collapsing, there was one thing. But even that one thing he believed in, was trampled down.
???: [――――]
Slowly, something was welling withinside him.
That thing, it completely eliminated that what was emerging from his heart.
Reid: [Grrr! Can ya bear this? I’m gettin’ more and more bored, ya prick.]
Along with a click of his lips, a light gushed out and pierced through his limbs.
He collapsed like a marionette who had its strings cut. However, violence did not allow that.
Chest was struck. His breath caught. His hair was grabbed, and he was swung around like a ragdoll. He was slammed to the ground, and the moment that he bounced back up, he received a kick to the face and was blown away. In this way, he slid across the ground as if he were a frisbee, spinning endlessly in this white world with no boundaries.
He was knocked to the ground. His body bounced, he looked at the direction where he had received the kick from. But the man, who suddenly dashed like a gale towards him, hit him in the face with his knee. In the moment of the impact, knee clashed against forehead, and as his forehead split he was flicked away.
A gap between them was formed. Reorganizing his posture―― that was what he should have done, but, his body did not stir.
???: [Fuh, khhh…]
His whole body was screaming like a siren. The damage to his head was especially grave. Even the consciousness inside his own skull was in a state of fluctuation. He was afraid that if he did relax, if only for a little, he would lose his consciousness the very next moment.
The sword… Where was the sword? As if to ascertain it, he made his own strength flow into his own right hand and tried to slowly touch it. There, there was indeed the touch of the hilt. He felt relief.
He could not let go. There was only this. He did not know what else was left to lose if even the sword were lost.
――In other words, what was in his hand was something else in the shape of a Sword just now.
???: [――――]
He did not make any mistakes in his own way of being. He always believed that it was him being on his own path.
He was so convinced, even now. Even now, to be able to change this, he had supposed would be impossible in his life.
Henceforth, the problem here was that he had not found a solution for all the things that had slipped out of his hands and disappeared.
――Or, was it simply a mistake?
He had lost his own way, he had walked down the wrong path, all because he had misunderstood what he believed in?
His name, his house, his family, his master, a companion, a friend, Spirits bound to his soul, he lost all of them.
What if, what was only left with him now, was just a make-believe, incapable of offering any actual help, incapable of relying upon, incapable of any support.
――He would maintain his strength; that was what he had sworn to his Master.
――He would remember his strength; that was what his last remaining friend had told him.
In a world where everything had been lost, only that Strength would support his body.
Although, this Strength was the only thing his frail and fragile self was Certain would not disappear.
Reid: [――Hesitation’s written all over yer sword, ya prick.]
???: [――!?]
How much time had been wasted by asking himself how to answer that question?
Probably not even a second. However, for a man―― for a Sword Saint, such momentary gap would be akin to attaining the opportunity to slaughter an infinitude of enemies.
He was desperate to raise his sword, to defend himself against this rapid, impending attack.
A very sharp, shrill noise rang out. The only way of knowing that the sword’s steel edge crashed upon the floor, was by actually seeing it happen.
Finally, he was parted from even the sword that slipped out from his own hands.
Losing my name, losing my reputation… Now that I even lost the sword, is there any reason for me to still stand here?
Reid: [Ya lack the qualifications to reach the Heavenly Sword―― Ya prick, ya wouldn’t even be fit to be my follower.]
The parched voice coldly announced that, and the Sword Saint held his sticks out forward, bending his knees down.
――For the first time, the Sword Saint had adopted an attacking posture.
Then, the stick was raised, and a strike―― There was no way for it to be mistaken, it was the strike of a sword.
He released an absolute sword strike, and wrapped in the powerful shockwave of the strike, he was blown away.
???: [――――]
Whether punching or kicking, this blow was completely different from all the attacks so far.
This was no attack. This was the zenith of the sword, the highest peak the sword could reach, the true Strength a sword was capable of.
Engulfed by the light, his consciousness was blown away.
Was he laying his eyes upon death? Was he laying his eyes upon something that surpassed death? He did not understand it at all.
However, at the moment of being blown away, he heard a faint voice.
???: [Julius――!!]
A voice was screaming, it was full of melancholy.
Desperately, the voice had dashed up the long staircase, as if just to witness this decisive moment alone.
Since there was a voice calling for him, a very untimely smile was formed on his face.
The Finest of Knights. From the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, one of the Royal Guards. The eldest son and the heir of the Juukulius family. The Knight of the Royal Candidate, Anastasia Hoshin.
――Julius Juukulius.
???: [Ha…]
I wonder, am I even worthy of being called by that name anymore?
Finally, with such doubts on his mind, Julius’s consciousness, interrupted with a swoosh, was thus swallowed by the light[2].
Translation notes:
[1] A small curiosity, the verb used here, “吐く”, can also mean “to vomit”. Both would be correct.
[2] A fun little detail: throughout his named chapter, Julius’s name is never used in narration until the very end. May be a subtle nod to the fact he’s having his named Chapter while he remains in a Name-eaten state.
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