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Thread: Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files Translation, Starting From Book 6

  1. #101
    Quote Originally Posted by Comun View Post
    Either works but mage is more common and more natural.
    Huh, that's interesting, because somehow I've been seeing more magus than mage.

  2. #102
    Chapter 2, Part 2

    The air around me was heavy, as if it had solidified.

    Ever since we arrived at the summer in the Second Cycle, I felt as if my senses had become sharper. My bodily functions had been forced to operate under the extreme pressure. Ah, even in this hopeless time, my body still had a superficial will to live. I felt a bit discontented with this, but at the same time, I was also somewhat relieved.

    My mentor and Bersac stood in front of my eyes.

    Both of them had helped me in the past.

    “Didn’t I already say that I wasn’t your enemy?”

    Bersac’s voice did not waver (TN: well I’ve been avoiding using this word, I don’t really know why) in the slightest.

    I recalled that he once said that if grave keepers lose their composure, the dead would not be able to rest. Though the times have changed since then, these words were still etched clearly in my mind. Bersac did not speak much, but every sentence he did say felt like it had a life of its own.

    “You are not an enemy. Just as Sir Kay has confirmed,” said my mentor, narrowing his eyes.

    “However, I’m not saying that you are simply an ally, either. He probably wanted to confirm this as well. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so knowledgeable about the state of affairs of the Holy Church.”

    “Haha. Don’t go around remembering everything I say so clearly. You remind me of a certain gloomy auxiliary officer (TN: I’m assuming that Kay’s referring to Agravain here. According to the wiki, his role’s supposed to be the ‘secretary’, but that doesn’t sound quite right. Or it could also be translated as ‘advisor’ or ‘support officer/general’ ).”

    “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Of course it isn’t a compliment. Though you would be the right man for that job.”

    The knight let out a light snort and then looked toward Bersac.

    “All of that is to say that you have some sort of fancy connection to outside organizations, don’t you? Possibly with the king of this country— No, it’s called the government in this era, isn’t it.”

    My eyes widened in response to these unexpected words.

    “The country I lived in back then was quite complicated. There were traitors, traitors of traitors, a court magician that was only there for the fun of it, philandering knights, and and a goody-two-shoes (TN: In a non-derogatory way) king. It only gets more complicated with the involvement of Rome, and other outer powers. Thanks to that, though, I’ve gotten sharper. …Your intel doesn’t sound like it comes from a person, and your comments feel incredibly incongruous. It sounds less like an evaluation of someone and more like a report of a giant group of people. Ah, for goodness sake, this stuff always comes just as I’m enjoying myself.(TN: ???, for the entire paragraph because I just don’t know).”


    Silence descended in the tunnel. The damp, unpleasant air seemed to be dyed with the sound of silence.

    “Mr… Bersac?”

    The old grave keeper sighed when he heard me call his name.

    “I never thought that someone like you would be with them. Though Lord El-Melloi II has a good eye for noticing things(TN: Things = talent? Character? V-virtue?? I don’t know), that mean that he is good at political maneuvering. I thought that as long as that Reines girl isn’t here, I would be able to remain undetected.”

    “Are you admitting to it?”

    “Some of our distant relatives have contacts in the British government. Because of the disagreements between this village and the Holy Church, they sometimes provide me with convenient information,” he confessed calmly.

    I do not act in accordance with the government. However, they do not give away information for free, either. I suppose you could say that our goals are the same.”

    “Can you answer me this time, then. What is your goal?”


    Bersac spoke up after a brief pause.

    “I want to delay the revival of King Arthur.”

    “Delay, but not prevent.”

    “I am not only the grave keeper of Blackmore Graveyard, but also a mage that was raised on this land,” Bersac said.

    “Therefore, as the overseer of this place, I must prioritize the peace of this land. If King Arthur awakens from her rest one day in the future, that would be something worth celebrating.”

    His serious voice reminded me of the past.

    As this man (TN: The original said ‘male(person)’, I’m not sure why) had said once, death should be respected, but not feared. The darkness of the abyss of the underworld shall one day swallow all that once lived, and consign them to oblivion. For that reason, all new lives must be worth celebrating. This should be true no matter what evil being it might be.

    I didn’t know why, but I really liked how he didn’t directly say that it was the truth.

    The training for becoming a grave keeper of Blackmore Graveyard was difficult, and though I lost consciousness many times in the past, I never developed hatred for it. Perhaps this was why.

    “It’s not the time for that yet, though. At least, I don’t think so. Therefore, I want Gray to escape because it will help achieve my own wish,” Bersac concluded. Then, tugging at his beard, he turned to face me.

    “Aren’t you mad at me?”

    “Um… I’m actually more surprised than angry…” I replied, at a loss for words.

    It was no wonder.

    Too many secrets had already been revealed about the village for me to accept already. Even if someone told me now that the grave keeper that had been taking care of me had ties with the government, I wouldn’t know how to react.

    Though, I thought of something else.

    “Mr. Bersac… You don’t think that I should die… right…”

    “Of course not.”

    The grave keeper did not look at me when he said that. I wasn’t sure why, but I got the feeling that this was a show of his sincerity. For that reason, I didn’t thank him.

    “I see.”

    My mentor nodded.

    “Since you understand, take the side tunnel. There’s a route there that the villagers don’t even know. It shouldn’t take that much effort to escape from there.”


    This time, my mentor shook his head.

    “Though I understand your goal, I cannot accept your proposal, because we have already accepted it before.”


    There was no way he could comprehend that sentence. Even if we told him how we returned here, he would probably not be able to understand it.

    “Either way, please think of it as Precognition for now.”

    “Hm? I have heard of your abilities. Of course, there are other ways of predicting the future besides Mystic Eyes, but…”

    “My apologies, but please don’t take my personal abilities into account here. I just happened to get informed of the results.”

    Though it looked as if he had calmly accepted it, his voice still sounded stern. Perhaps the conversation touched on something he minded. It seemed that Bersac’s source of information in the government also investigated my mentor’s abilities.

    Silence filled the room for a few seconds. As if to break the silence, the knight spoke.

    “So what are you planning to do?”


    I could not answer for a moment. “M-me?”

    “Yes, you,” the knight said coldly.

    Though he never acted like he was taking things seriously, not even when he was interrogating Bersac just then, I felt that he was now staring at me sincerely. His figure was so blurred it was impossible to see his facial expression, but his feelings were still conveyed to me.

    I didn’t know why, but his question reminded me of something. It was almost like the box that was once my only friend.

    He was asking me a question.

    He had asked me what I planned on doing.


    The words got stuck in my throat.

    I knew that if I said them out loud, there was no going back. This was different from how it usually was. Usually, I would accompany my mentor to dangerous places of my own accord. This time, it was the other way around. If I uttered what I wanted to say, my mentor would have to accompany me into danger. Considering his way of thinking, he would do nothing to stop me, either.

    However, I still spoke.

    “…I would like to go meet… the other ‘me’. The mind of King Arthur.”

    I had probably always wanted to say this.

    I had been thinking about this ever since we met not long ago.

    “I would like to know... what goes on inside her head, and what she thinks of me. Not what the mind of King Arthur believes in, but what she believes in.”

    Though I couldn’t express it very well, I continued.

    “I think that, she is the secret of the village, and what I didn’t bring myself to face before. That was why I… had such a rough time in the First Cycle. It was because I cowered instead of facing what I was supposed to face.”

    “The First Cycle?”

    “Please don’t mind.” My mentor cleared his throat as Bersac frowned, suspicious.

    The knight spoke up again.

    “Hmph. It’s not a bad idea, but you’ll get killed if you don’t pull it off. Just to be clear, I can’t be relied upon. I’m not one of those idiots who probably even have brains made of muscle who can turn the tide of a battle just because of their strength. It’s probably safer to just escape, like the grave keeper said.”

    “…I know. I think so as well. But, even so, I still want to meet her.”

    “She might not think that way. Didn’t you two already meet each other? She left first, didn’t she. Unless you’re looking to get caught by those bone soldiers and to get used by the villagers in that shady ritual, in which case, go ahead.”

    “…I know. But I still want to meet her.”

    “Ha, pretty stubborn, aren’t you.”

    The knight shrugged and turned his head.

    “Well, what do you think of that, Bersac Blackmore?”

    “…There’s nothing I can do about it.”

    The old grave keeper sighed. He raised his wrinkled hand and pointed at me.

    “Gray, hold Add up to eye level.”

    “Huh? But Add’s still asleep…”

    “That doesn’t matter. What’s important now is not Add’s personality, but its functions as a Mystic Code. The Magic Crests implanted to you were especially altered to fit it, so all you have to do is let the scythe take over, as usual.”


    I raised the scythe as Bersac had instructed, just like what I used to do when I trained.

    I held the center of my body as close to the scythe as possible and focused my attention there, removing the boundary between the two and filling the space with [emptiness(空).]

    “Focus. Making yourself as small as possible is the same as making yourself expand to the extreme. Compress yourself while using your consciousness(yourself) fill up the world.”

    I tried my best to suppress a smile, because this was very similar to what my mentor had talked about once in class. Though I had attended classes at the Clock Tower for a while, most of it had not managed to stick. I felt as if I was an idiot who was staring at a giant block of gold but was completely ignorant about its value. …Even so, I did still managed to learn something.

    It all seemed like an overly luxurious gift to me.

    I took a deep breath.

    I focused on the still-sleeping Add.

    With a thunk, I touched the handle of the scythe to my forehead. The ice-cold metal made my forehead slightly numb, and the tingling sensation soon spread through out my whole body, seeping into my skin.

    A light shined in my mind.

    Suddenly, the light was linked together, and a Milky Way of light spread out above and below me.

    “…I see, a path,” I mumbled to myself, unknowingly.

    “What a surprise.”

    I heard Bersac’s voice.

    “I originally planned on convincing you to leave if it failed… I never thought that it would succeed on the first try. It’s only been half a day, so what happened?”

    Bersac’s half a day was half a year to me. That was the difference.

    Though, that was not all.

    “What should I do next?”

    “Tell the path of light where you want to go. I don’t know what this place looks like in its entirety, and probably, neither do the church, or the mind of King Arthur. However, that thing is different. It is precisely because it is a lifeless sealing Mystic Code that it has the right to know everything about the graveyard.”

    My mentor had once said that graveyards were tiny underworlds.

    Perhaps this was the same. This place was Blackmore Graveyard, a sanctum that the living could not enter. When they created the sealing Mystic Code that was Add, they had added the ability to resonate with this sacred place.

    The grave keeper referred to Bersac and I, but also to this Mystic Code itself. As I realized this, I continued to focus my consciousness onto the light. There was a great amount of hidden meaning there beyond my grasp.

    It was up to me to refine it and to select the relevant information.

    The various was of light pointed out multiple paths.

    “Are you alright?”

    “I-I’m fine, Sir (TN: In the original, she just calls him ‘師匠’, which I’ve translated as ‘mentor’. ‘Sir’ is the English way of doing things, but it isn’t particularly odd to call a man you want to respect ‘sir’. However, in the original context, it would… you know what I think you get my point I can’t be bothered to organize my thoughts coherently).”

    Hearing that word, Bersac frowned. Uh oh. But the situation here was already too complicated for us to explain how we came from the future. Even if we did explain it to him, perhaps it would only make him more confused.

    “N-nothing. I know the way, let’s go.” I forced my stiff legs to move and ran forwards. Perhaps it was because of the Tuning, but I felt that my hearing had become sharper. Because of that, I heard what my mentor whispered.

    “…Thank you, Sir Kay.”

    “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

    “Because you helped me say what I was supposed to have said.”

    “Don’t think too much about it. I just thought that it would be better to find someone to make a decision than to waste time arguing about what we should do.”

    What my mentor said to Sir Kay made me feel somewhat sad. How much help had I received from others, I thought. A sense of shame and relief swirled in my heart.

    In order to ignore this sadness, I stepped forward into the unknown darkness of the underground (TN: not the underground in the sense of the subway system… or in the sense of people trying to subvert order… I don’t know why I decided to add this note… It was just a random thought… Deadlines have not been nice to me this week, and I am too tired to consider if I’m making sense or not).
    -End of Part 2 of Chapter 2 of Book 7-
    —————————————————————————————————————————————————— ——
    Random complaint about inconsistency:

    I am very confused, so let me try and get this straight. According to Reines, British summers are always cold (never warmer than 25°C), and it is especially cold in the mountains. This makes total sense, and is corroborated by the internet, which tells me that the average temperature in Cardiff in the hottest month of the year is 16°C.

    Walking around the village on the second day, however, Gray describes herself sweating. I guess that makes sense if it was also partially psychologically induced(?). She’s also wearing a shawl/hood, which could be very warm, but I doubt it. That kind of temperature is jacket-worthy, and Bersac then asks her if she got heatstroke, which I don’t think you can get at that kind of weather unless you try very hard.

    In chapter 1, the tunnel is swelteringly hot, which is really strange, because underground places are usually colder than the surface, unless there’s something supernatural going on there. I don’t know if bone soldiers and such produce heat, but they are pretty strange, and when it involves mysterious magic stuff you can never be sure.

    And now, Add, who is made of metal, I think, is very cool to the touch. That suggests that the tunnel is now cold...?
    Last edited by azwhoisverybored; January 16th, 2022 at 10:53 PM.

  3. #103
    whydunit Reign's Avatar
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    I'd thought the names were just coincidence but if Bersac's family is tied to the British government maybe he really is related to Dan Blackmore from Extra.

  4. #104
    Chapter 2, Part 3
    Sister Illumia trotted along in the underground tunnel.

    The roads beneath this village were complex and intricate. Though she didn’t know all of the paths, she was utilizing one she did know to make her way to a path that Gray might take.

    As they walked, Father Fernando, who was carrying a lantern and breathing heavily, spoke up.

    “Ha… Ugh.. Ha… So Gray did end up… going with that mage to the tunnels, huh?”

    “Exactly, Father Fernando.” Illumia winked as if she was making a face.

    “I…Just can’t… Understand. Wasn’t she pretty compliant? They didn’t tell her the details, but even if she knew, isn’t that girl the sort of person who would willingly hand her life over? No, perhaps I should say that, didn’t they raise her to be that kind of person?”

    “Maybe something happened to make her change her mind.”

    As she said that, Illumia slowed down slightly.

    Father Fernando tilted his chubby head with a suspicious expression.

    “Such as, that Lord of the Clock Tower?”

    “Filthy mage(s)!”

    Illumia’s face twisted in spite.

    “Though, at least he managed to get that El-Melloi Princess to leave. At least I didn’t urge her to leave in vain.”

    “Sometimes, even I don’t know what to make of your strange preferences (fetishes)(TN: the word used doesn’t necessarily have sexual connotations…? Interpret it however you like.).”

    “All the people there are heretics, so doesn’t it make it all the more important if they look pretty or not? Either way, those who do not follow the teachings of the Lord are not worthy of my trust,” Illumia proclaimed arrogantly, but with a look of indifference.

    The priest frowned as he wiped his head.

    “…You are that kind of person.”

    “I think you’re overly sympathetic towards those heretics. There’s no need to consider them at all.”

    “Is that so. Small-town priests like me don’t really understand what you higher-ups think.”

    “Does that include illegitimate children?”

    The nun smiled, satisfied, as the priest tried to catch up with her while he dabbed at his face with a handkerchief.

    The incongruity between the voluptuous lady and the almost spherical priest made it feel like a scene out of an old horror movie.

    Soon, the tunnel widened.

    A silhouette appeared in the inky darkness that was enough to hide a mansion.

    “Found her—!”

    However, as she got a better look at the figure, Illumia blinked (several times in quick succession).

    Though she had felt an aura similar to that of Gray’s a moment ago, the one who stood there was a completely different person.

    The figure, clad in a strange mask and some armor, turned slowly face to her. Many bone soldiers stood behind her. Even in this strange, underground terrain, they extruded a shockingly powerful (TN: Alternatively, fierce) aura.

    “…And look who we’ve got here.” Nervousness and a will to fight arose in Illumia’s tea-colored eyes.

    “We’ve both been in the village for so long, but this is the first time we’ve met, isn’t it.”


    The masked person did not speak.

    However, she stared straight at the nun and the priest.

    “I’ve heard a lot about you, [mind of King Arthur]. I’ve heard that you are the master of the shadows of Blackmore Graveyard (TN: alternatively, the Shadow Master/Owner or like the owner equivalent of a ghostwriter in the sense that she’s the secret owner). Do you not even want to bother greeting an Executor of the Holy Church?”

    The nun seemed to know the true identity of the masked girl.

    The masked person was silent for a few moments before she raised one hand.

    [Deal with them.]

    Her sharp thoughts gave a command.

    At that, the bone soldiers protecting the masked girl charged. Two precise lances were thrown at her, but they were deflected by the armor that covered Sister Illumia’s arms at just the right time and angle. She rushed at her opponent and began launching an attack with fierce punches.

    One of the bone soldiers got pierced through immediately, while another had its mandible shattered by the impact of another punch.

    “Sensible, aren’t you! I like that!”

    The nun’s Ash Lock (TN: A gauntlet infused with the power of Biblical scriptures for punching blasphemes) crackled with purple electricity.

    The Mystic Code that could strike through all manner of mystic beings made Illumia’s ferocious smile stand out even more. In the instant when she struck down a heretic, she felt the meaning of her life get fulfilled.

    “Killing Gray is one option, but it’s not like I can’t deal with you instead. Since this village wants to do some dumb seance to revive King Arthur, if one of you two isn’t there, they would stop, wouldn’t they?”

    As she said that, she licked her ruby red lips and prepared to topple the remaining bone soldiers.

    However, at that moment, she stopped.

    Illumia halted to a sharp stop, turned around, and backhanded the humerus of a bone soldier that had snuck behind her as her eyes widened.

    “…What is that.”

    Her exclamation(?) fell to the floor of the underground cave.

    The body parts of the bone soldiers that Illumia had just pulverized had regenerated, and the bone soldiers stood up once more to slash at her. Even the bone that she had just backhanded was now visibly regrowing. It was almost like viewing a video in reverse.

    Illumia used an uppercut to shatter the mandible of one of her opponents again before distancing herself from them to prevent herself from being surrounded.

    “How is this happening? The Mana underground is this thin(TN: Alternatively, diluted), so why do these small fries(TN: 雑魚, coarse fish) have so much Magical Energy? Do I have to hit the vitals for these things to die?”

    “Sister Illumia… This is because of the… Aboveground…” said Father Fernando hurriedly, as his eyes flitted up and down in panic.

    …So it was because of the support from the villagers.

    She had thought of this possibility before.

    At this moment, there were large amounts of villagers praying to the Black Madonna statue above the surface.

    This kind of act was equivalent to offering up their own Magical Energy, and the villagers here had more Od than normal people of the modern era.

    For that reason, the bone soldiers underground could regenerate indefinitely. The dead could remain on this earth because they were accepting the prayers and intent of the living, leaving their tracks and slashing their blades.

    Sister Illumia dodged the attack in the nick of time again.

    “There’s no end to this!”

    [Yes, there is,] came the hollow thought.

    The masked girl who had only ben observing before began to take action.


    Illumia felt her knees go weak.

    It was as if all the energy in her had suddenly disappeared.

    The girl was taking all of the Od from the nun to create something. The spirit-like entity that appeared devoured the Od of the villagers and the thin Mana in its surroundings, creating a storm that was not meant to have existed below the ground.

    The mana had felt suspiciously thin for a while, was it because…

    “Is there something there…?” Groaned Illumia as she manipulated the Magical Energy inside her body. There was no way to tell whether her speculation was true.

    Because, in the masked girl’s hands, there was—
    It was like I was being guided by a shining star.

    The light that had once appeared in my ming seemed to be pulling my legs forward, leading me down a path. When we reached a crossroads, my body would move on its own, and I wouldn’t get lost in the dark. I walked as if I was sleepwalking in front of my mentor, the knight, and the grave keeper(Bersac). The journey was surprisingly long, enough to make me realize the true scale of these underground tunnels.

    After a while, we arrived at a large, open cavern. There was a structure there. My mentor raised the magecraft light, and illuminated it.

    “There’s a temple underground…?”

    “Or it could be a grave,” my mentor muttered.

    Was this the secret of the village, a corner of the knowledge of the grave keepers that had not yet been given to me?

    “Is it, Bersac Blackmore? Do you know anything about this?”

    Bersac shook his head.

    “No. I’ve only heard that there was a structure underground, but I’ve never seen it before.”

    Without further questioning, my mentor stepped into the temple. As soon as we entered, a silhouette appeared in front of us.


    But it wasn’t a person.

    A humanoid statue stood there.

    Seeing the same figure that I had seen countless times before made me gasp.

    “…There’s a Black Madonna statue here as well.”

    The black-dyed statue of the Holy Mother had been placed in a corner of the temple.

    My instincts told me that it (TN: actually the statue was a ‘she’ in the original text but I went with ‘it’ instead because she’s talking about the statue, not the person the statue depicts) was as old as the temple itself, perhaps even older. The one aboveground might even be a replica of this one.

    “I had a hypothesis about this statue when we visited the village last time,” my mentor said, looking up at the Holy Mother.

    “Black Madonnas appear all over Europe in a multitude of forms. Most of them are created by fusing with the patron goddess of the land (TN: alternatively, the mother goddess of the land).”

    “The patron goddess of the land(TN: see above), you said?”

    “Most of the patron saints are like this as well. Most religions are somewhat adaptable. When a religion is spread to a new region, not only are its teachings spread, it also maintains a bit of a surplus (buffer) to assimilate local legends and myths. The Black Madonna is an example of this.”

    My mentor’s voice resounded in the temple as it would in his lectures.

    As if he was praising the statue.

    But also, as if he was criticizing it.

    “There is a certain enchantress(TN: alternatively, witch) considered to be a derivative of a mother goddess. She was mentioned across multiple eras in various different legends, and is probably a result of the fusion of several existing figures(TN: alternatively, characters). Sir Kay, Morgan Le Fay is a familiar name to you from the Arthurian Legends in which you appear in, yes? (TN: Morgan Le Fay has been suggested to draw from various real and mythical women from all over the place, such as Dea Matrona, the Morrígan, Fráech, Circe, and the Empress Matilda.)”

    “What a bothersome teacher you are,” the knight said, shrugging.

    Though, rather than being actually bothered, I felt that he just wanted to mock him.

    Morgan Le Fay.

    I recalled that she was the older sister of King Arthur in Arthurian legends. That meant that this person also had complicated relations with the adoptive older brother of King Arthur (Sir Kay).

    My mentor continued without reacting to his comment.

    “In Celtic Mythology, a goddess (TN: the original text said enchantress/witch. The Morrígan are… always goddesses/a single goddess though. At least, wikipedia tells me that) known as Morrígan appears frequently. Sometimes she is the queen of the dead, sometimes times she is the goddess of war, and sometimes she appears as the three goddesses of fate. However, she is associated with crows, and frequently transforms into them.”

    Crows. (TN: Crow and raven are basically referred to using the same word in Japanese(and Chinese). This unfortunately means that this makes less sense in English, so for the purposes of this story, please just pretend that ravens and crows are the same thing.)


    And the grave keepers of Blackmore who led flocks of ravens.

    “Ha. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Morgan. She was a complicated woman. No, actually, most women are pretty complicated.”

    The knight answered as if he was telling a story of his past.

    How long ago did these events happen from his perspective? Was it days ago? Or was it more than a thousand years ago, like what we saw? Or perhaps, was it a completely different feeling?

    “Though, this village is probably related to Morgan. I can see some hints of her from the statue. Hmph, is that why they chose this village.” He smiled a wry smile as he said this.

    “It’s very unlikely that she wanted to save her. That person hated the king, and I think she plotted some sort of scheme with Mordred. There wasn’t a need to hold a grudge after her death, but I was already dead then, so I don’t know much about it.”

    I knew how the legend of King Arthur ended.

    It was the Battle of Camlann. King Arthur defeated the traitorous knight Mordred, but was fatally wounded as a result, and gave the holy sword to the trustworthy knight Bedivere. It is the most famous legend in all of Britain, and there are multiple versions of the story. In one of them, three fairies appeared, and one of them was said to be Morgan.

    My mentor shook his head gently.

    “I don’t know what Morgan was thinking then. Since you don’t know, I have no way of knowing, either. However, regardless of what she thought, she left behind a spark. The spark was passed down from generation to generation, and after a millennium, something was formed.”

    At this point, my mentor paused for a moment.

    “The result was Gray.”


    The topic of conversation had inevitably returned to me.

    This time, though, I didn’t feel incredibly surprised.

    My mentor turned to look at the old grave keeper.

    “Bersac Blackmore. What do you think?”

    “The only thing I heard from my predecessor was the situation regarding the rules of the village. Those rules have always been taught to the grave keepers of Blackmore Graveyard, including the one about the Black Madonna.”

    “You’re referring to those four rules, right.”

    The four rules of the village.

    - First, one must pray to the Black Madonna statue upon arrival.
    - Second, one must not go out late at night.
    - Third, one must not go near the graveyard alone.
    - Fourth, a group of many may enter the graveyard, but they must not enter the swamp.

    Of course I remembered the rules that I must follow.

    My mentor confirmed it out of caution, and Bersac nodded seriously in response.

    “Indeed. When someone breaks these rules, I will be notified through the Magic Crests passed down through the grave keepers. This part has not been transplanted to Gray yet.”


    I covered my right hand.

    Though they were both called Magic Crests, and supposedly worked in the same way, the Magic Crests of the grave keepers of Blackmore Graveyard were very different from that of mages. No new magecraft was added to it with each generation, but there would be virtually no rejection, even if it was transplanted to someone like me who was not related by blood. In terms of function, it was basically just used to manipulate Add.

    Though I only just got told that it could be used to surveil the village, I didn’t find it to be anything worth being surprised about.



    “There are… Four rules…” my mentor muttered, pressing down on his brow.

    “First, you have to pray to the Black Madonna statue. If that’s the case…”

    Then, he used his finger to draw a circle in the air.

    I had a vague feeling that that was the hope of the village. The slight indent was in the same place as the one in the map of the village. I felt a little surprised that I still remembered such a thing.

    “The one about not entering alone basically just means that you have to go along with a grave keeper, right?”

    “…Well, you could put it like that, yes,” Bersac agreed.

    “…When did this… No, whom would this affect in this situation…” My mentor bent over and fell into a silence.

    When my mentor was thinking like this, he hardly reacted to anything. It was as if he locked himself up in a fortress in his mind, pouring all of his intellect and ability into solving a complicated mystery. Although he was not as competent compared to others in terms of magecraft, he was by no means inferior to them in terms of knowledge and thinking ability(TN: or something around those lines). Perhaps that would be mocked by others as futile efforts, they were my mentor’s specialty.

    Therefore, I didn’t disturb him. Bersac and the knight did not say a word, either.


    After a while, my mentor called out my name.

    “I-I’m here.”

    “You plan on meeting the mind of King Arthur, yes? …If that’s the case, could you please help me do something?”

    Hearing what he had to say next, I could not help but blink (several times in quick succession).

    “S-sure, but, is it really okay to leave it to me?”

    “You are the most suitable person for the job. Compared to me, it would definitely be more effective you said it. Though it is a risky bet, it’s our only option if we want to make any progress.”

    I swallowed when I heard my mentor say the word “risky”.

    My mentor was frequently involved in dangerous situations, so his ability to notice risk had improved accordingly. How dangerous would the task I was to do have to be in order for my mentor to make such a judgement?

    “…I understand.” I still nodded.

    No matter what happened, I should not refuse my mentor’s request. Even though I didn’t know how dangerous it was or why he asked me to do this, there wasn’t much to object to. The only thing that I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for would be a failure to help my mentor. Though, if I said that to him, it would probably just make things difficult for him.

    Just as I silently made my choice, a light suddenly flashed through the temple.

    No, was that really a flash of light? Though it shined, it only existed within our minds.

    [However, we knew that ray of light.]


    Led by our shock, we rushed out of the temple a panic.

    The sight that appeared in front of our eyes was difficult to believe.
    -End of Part 3 of Chapter 2 of Book 7-
    —————————————————————————————————————————————————— ——
    Last edited by azwhoisverybored; January 20th, 2022 at 04:08 AM. Reason: typo

  5. #105
    whydunit Reign's Avatar
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    Guessing the Corpse King can use a pseudo-Rhongo of her own. Thanks as always.

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