[V9C11] The Song That Colors the Night of Nightmares
Translated by Jodas 9: Battle for the Tower“Attack it from behind! Aim for the legs and throw everything you have at it!”
Dammer, mage of the Extermination Office, barked orders at his allies as he internally steamed in anger.
There were five of them, and only one enemy. This shouldn’t have been a difficult fight, but Dammer and his team were having a surprisingly hard time.
There were two reasons. First: the Werewolf’s black fur blended in with the darkness of night, making it hard to get vision on it. Meanwhile, the enemy had excellent night vision, putting the humans at a massive disadvantage.
The second reason was the girl on its shoulders. The hostage. Thanks to her, the mages couldn’t unleash their most powerful attacks.
If someone like Frederik or Rikard who specialized in close-quarters combat were here, the situation might have been different. But the only ones they had here were people who specialized in medium or long range attacks.
(That little brat… I don’t see her moving at all, so it’s gotta just be a corpse.)
In that case, they should stop worrying about the girl and just launch their attack magic right away.
Getting frustrated, Dammer secretly thought:
(She looks like just some brat from the servants. If one of those die, it’s not like it would be that much of a loss to the Wedge Tower.)
The Werewolf lowered its posture and closed the distance with Dammer. It was fast.
Dammer’s main weapon was a whip, but he did have an answer for times when the enemy came up close. Dammer wasted no time in drawing a dagger with his left hand.
The Werewolf’s claws swung down towards him. Dammer parried those claws, as hard as iron, with his dagger.
Since the Werewolf was holding onto the girl with one hand, it couldn’t use both hands to attack. Dammer, on the other hand, could.
Just as Dammer moved to swing his whip, he heard a garbled voice from the Werewolf’s throat.
“Give. It. Back.”
Dammer realized. The Werewolf’s attention had been focused on the fang ornament hanging from Dammer’s neck.
He remembered now. This Werewolf was a monster he’d fought before. He remembered the pitiful cry it made when he lashed it with a lightning-imbued whip and broke off one of its fangs.
Suddenly, his instinct to taunt and bully rose to the forefront.
“Hah! You’re just a sore loser!”
Just as he did back then, Dammer imbued his whip with lightning mana. The girl on its shoulder might get electrocuted as well, but it wasn’t like he cared.
Then, Extermination Office Director Haydn, who had been making contact with the other Spiremasters came running out of the Spire in a furor.
“DAMMER! Kill that thing NOW!”
Dammer didn’t care much for the Director who was younger than himself, so he just snorted as he fended off the Werewolf.
“Let me have a little bit of fun, Director. It’s just one Werewolf…”
“It’s not just one!”
‘What, are there other ones somewhere?’ He thought.
At that moment, Dammer did not know that Haydn would say the words that would strike fear and despair into the hearts of not just the Wedge Tower mages, but all of humanity.
“The Western Wall has dissipated! A horde of Monsters is coming this way!”
Almost in sync with Haydn’s shout, a singing voice rang out.
That singing, with the power to drown out the voice of a large man screaming at the top of his lungs, was a beautiful woman’s voice. Yet her singing was not merely just loud. It came as a harmony of three voices at once.
“LUUAAAAAAA (Sing of freedom to the skies above!) (The time of liberation is now!)”
The moon, shining high in the night sky was covered by countless shadows. The strange, plump birds had red feathers on the underside of their wings, with numerous eyeballs embedded in them — A huge flock of Eyeball Birds.
Then, leading the flock from the front, a Monster that should have been fierce rivals with the Eyeball Birds.
A Harpy, with brilliant orange wings.
—Come, let the feast begin! (Bare your fangs) (Despair)
—Come, let the feast begin! (Sharpen your claws) (Despair)
—Come, let the feast begin! (Devour their flesh) (Despair)
A single Harpy could make three voices at once.
Its song was a devilish honey that rallied the Monsters and led human hearts into distress.
(I’ll be toast if I listened to that.)
Dammer tried to cover his ears, but as he did the Werewolf lunged at him.
Dammer clicked his tongue and swung his whip. His arm felt heavier due to the Harpy’s song.
He heard a scream from the front gate, alongside a number of footsteps. It seemed that the gate had been breached.
The Harpy’s song that colored the nightmarish night reverberated in his ears.
(My ears are all out of wack, I can’t tell what’s close and what’s far anymore.)
The first thing he needed to do was kill that Harpy.
But the Werewolf ahead of him was in the way.
DONG!! Then, the sound of a piano, as if someone had slammed onto the keys rang out.
The harsh noise was followed by a delicate melody keeping a defined rhythm.
At the same time, the shouting of an old man echoed across the Tower. That was the voice of Old Man Kappel, the Management Office Director.
“This is the Third Spire: Water Bubble speaking! Spiremaster Alto is currently neutralizing the Harpy’s song with choral magic. Your top priority is to focus fire on the Harpy!”
Extermination Office Director Haydn chanted the incantation for flight magic, aiming for the Harpy. It should be fine to leave the flying enemies to Haydn.
(First, I need to deal with this weak little Werewolf…)
—ROOOOOOAAAARRR!!!
He heard the growling of a wolf. But not the Werewolf in front of him. It was a much lower, weightier growl.
A large beast came running towards him from the gate with the speed of a bullet.
Dammer knew exactly what that was.
Visions rose to life in the back of his mind of a sea of blood made from the bodies of his allies. Visions of the silver wolf standing amongst that blood.
Watching Dammer flee with his allies as shields, that wolf had said:
—You’re not even worth killing.
Appearing in the blink of an eye was a wolf with silver fur.
This was the ancestor of all wolf Monsters. Born from the Abyss itself, the Primordial Beast.
“Good evening, humans. What a lovely night it is.”
While it spoke with the creaky voice of an old man, he could not feel a hint of the feebleness that ordinarily came with such a voice.
The silver wolf made its first move. It was as if a silver tornado blew past him. In the blink of an eye — to be more precise, in the time it took Dammer to blink twice — two of the Extermination Office’s mages sank to the ground.
He had no idea if they were still alive. He didn’t have the time to confirm if they had died.
Dammer nervously stepped back. He only had two more allies — two more meat shields.
The silver wolf noticed Dammer and spoke quizzically.
“…What’s your deal? Are you trying to imitate my mark?”
(Dammit!!)
Dammer turned his back on the silver wolf and ran away.
The screams of his allies rang out behind him. Just like they did back then. The last time he encountered this silver wolf, Dammer had survived by using his allies as shields and running away. In order to protect his honor, he carved the X-shaped scar on his face with his own hands.
No one knew the truth. All of the allies he sacrificed were corpses, unable to complain.
His lie about being marked by the Primordial Beast turned the shame of defeat into the glory of a strong warrior.
‘The Extermination Office’s Dammer was recognized by the Primordial Beast!’ — With that, the mages of the Wedge Tower would pay their respects to Dammer, and he would overlook his violent rampages.
After all, the Primordial Beast wasn’t the kind of thing you were likely to run across very often. Nobody would ever notice Dammer’s lie.
—Except for one person. That annoying little ‘piyo-piyo’ chirping white haired girl. Tia Vogel.
(That white-haired girl knew my scar wasn’t the Primordial Beast’s mark.)
She never said it clearly, but he knew she knew.
“Mister, you do the weirdest things, don’t you?”
With that statement of hers, she was probably referring to the truth of how he wounded himself to imitate the Primordial Beast’s mark.
That was why he had wanted to eliminate Tia before she could start blabbing about that to everyone around her.
(Dammit. And now that white-haired girl is still on the trip to Darwock…!)
If she was here now, he would have fed her to the Monsters to shut her up.
Thinking it was a shame he couldn’t do that, Dammer looked for a place where there were fewer Monsters to run to.
Not paying any mind to the whip-user who ran away, the Primordial Beast spoke to the black Werewolf.
“Hey, little cub. That fang the human who just ran away was wearing on his neck was yours, wasn’t it?”
The black Werewolf growled quietly. Its tail curled into a ball.
Fangs were the pride of a Werewolf. Those who had one stolen from them would bring dishonor to their whole family and be driven away from the pack.
“If you want your pride, you’re gonna have to take it by yourself. Know that if you don’t, you’ll never be allowed back into the pack.”
The Werewolf cried pitifully.
The Primordial Beast did not tell him to chase after that man immediately. After all, this Werewolf had the duty of delivering the girl on his shoulders.
“That said, I’m off to do my next hunt. Hey, little cub. Is there anyone here who’s worth fighting?”
The Primordial Beast had an affection for human talents. It didn’t matter if it was magecraft or martial arts.
Weak humans polished their talents to perfection in the name of survival. He loved humans who took that challenge to heart and did their all. He loved the moment he cut them apart with his claws even more.
That was the form of the Primordial Beast’s obsession.
“Thy irrational devotion, the rain that dwells within thee, o fish who hast lost thine arms… Burrow forth!”
Suddenly, the voice of a young girl echoed in his ears.
A young girl with a pointy hat leapt out from the bushes, brandishing a staff. She threw three small sticks into the air, each of which became enveloped in water, taking the form of fish.
These fish, with sharp blade-like noses, moved to try and pierce through the Primordial Beast.
(Oh… This is…)
The three fish moved with careful coordination.
Two of them cornered the Primordial Beast, while the last one moved in to attack. However, the Primordial Beast easily cut through the water fish with his claws.
It was reasonable mana-dense water, but it was nothing to bother the Primordial Beast.
“Is it my turn? My turn? I finally get to go wild!”
“Kuku… Control yourself, Agniol.”
“Okay, then I’ll go mostly wild! Haha!”
A ball of flame approached him from behind. The Primordial Beast leapt out of the way.
Coming to attack him were a black-haired boy walking out of the Spire and a flame spirit in the form of a red lion.
“…A spirit, huh? I have no interest in spirits. You don’t have talents or anything. You’re just useless balls of mana.”
“Oh you little—! Don’t think you’re special just because you popped out of the Abyss one day!”
The red lion angrily pounded the ground with its front paws.
It was a seriously powerful spirit. But no matter how powerful it was, the Primordial Beast could not hold any interest in spirits.
Rather than a raging wildfire, he preferred the sight of a little lamp, designed to make the minimum possible flame needed for illumination and keep it lit for a long time. He loved the products of human talents.
The new challengers were a witch with a pointy hat and a black-haired boy. Plus a flame spirit thrown in.
So, how were they planning to entertain him?
“I recognize that girl’s magic over there. I believe there was a human who used magic just like that not long ago.”
“I am Roswitha Ohlendorf! The daughter of the one whose face you scarred, Leona Ohlendorf!”
So she was a relative then. In that case, perhaps she might be able to keep him entertained.
As the Primordial Beast licked his lips, the little cub — the black Werewolf — opened his mouth.
“S– Stop fighting! Julius, Roswitha!!”
(Ah, I thought so…)
Roswitha silently despaired.
This must have come as a complete shock to Julius. His sharp eyes were now open wide as he stood as still as a statue.
Not wanting to force Julius to say these words, Roswitha chose to speak up herself.
“So you were the Werewolf after all… Finn.”