[V11C16] Ella’s Dream
Translated by Jodas 11: Envoy of the AbyssFrom alongside the crumpled ruins of the Wedge Tower’s western walls, Roswitha watched in astonishment as Henrik Blanke stood toe-to-toe with the Primordial Beast.
“No way… He wounded the Primordial Beast? …And with a shovel, of all things?”
It went without saying, but the Primordial Beast was a gargantuan creature. If he charged at you, you could expect every bone in your body snapped in half. On top of that, his claws, propelled by unnatural strength, could cut through human bodies like butter.
Despite all of that, Gerald’s brother Henrik deflected the attacks with practiced movements of his sword, and now delivered that clean blow against the right eye.
If things kept going this way, Henrik would win. Or, at least, that was the hope among the surrounding soldiers. But those soldiers had no experience fighting Monsters. They could not have known the true terror of a Monster.
“What a shame.”
So spoke the Primordial Beast as he started to walk towards the walls. The soldiers surrounding the western flank steeled themselves for combat.
Henrik as well held his sword at the ready and scrutinized the Beast’s movements. Seeing that, the Primordial Beast growled irritably.
“Fool. Follow me, lest you die of mana poisoning.”
And as he said that, the Primordial Beast’s right eye — the one that should have been gouged out — regenerated.
Henrik and the soldiers were stunned. Of course, they were unaware Monsters had such regeneration abilities.
(This is why Monsters are scary…)
While in areas of high mana density, Monsters healed at an astonishing rate.
Yet somehow, the Primordial Beast’s healing abilities exceeded even Roswitha’s expectations. In less than a minute, that gouged-out eye regenerated to appear good as new. While other Monsters recovered quickly, the Primordial Beast’s healing speed was an anomaly even among them.
Attacks would only be effective against his weak spots: his eyes and mouth. But even should you manage to wound him there, the Beast could simply withdraw to higher mana density and recover to full strength in no time.
(He’s practically invincible!)
Henrik’s expression gave no signs of despair. What a fearsome man. No wonder Gerald was so terrified of him.
Regardless, victory would go to the Primordial Beast. So long as they stayed among high mana density, there was no chance of the humans winning this.
“Roswi.”
Ella called out to her, causing Roswitha’s stiff, anxious shoulders to jolt.
Ella was knelt on the ground, holding a hand out towards the outside of the wall. In her hand was a short staff. She had borrowed it from the Management Office; it would help her better control her mana.
“Let’s give it all we got, okay? Also…”
She smiled softly beneath her glasses. Her eyes sparkled, just as they did when they discussed magecraft late at night in their dorm room.
“Please, help me fulfill my dream.”
She longed for the days when she could have jokingly quipped back “Aren’t you bold!”
Roswitha set her trademark pointy hat atop her head and flung open her cloak. Then, between each of her fingers, she drew those wooden sticks out from inside her cloak — the catalysts for her magecraft.
“Aw shucks, I guess I have to help you then. Come on, let’s do it… The flashiest, prettiest magic you’ve ever seen!”
When the Primordial Beast’s eye healed, panic swept across the soldiers. Yet the fact that their willingness to fight had not receded one bit came as a surprise to the Beast.
(These men aren’t mages, they’re a whole different sort of creature… Ah, this takes me back. Yes, I remember. Soldiers. Long, long ago, men like that came to hunt us once.)
The Extermination Office’s mages were specialists in magic and in monster-hunting.
In contrast, these soldiers were trained simply for fighting and nothing more. That, he felt, was their strength.
With practiced movements, the soldiers surgically hunted each nearby Monster. Perhaps having deduced that those who flee deeper in would have a chance to recover, they rode ahead on horseback to cut off any avenues of escape and, while periodically checking the mana density, ordered each other to “Hold the line here!”
(The only reason these soldiers can fight so calmly is because just one human is holding me at bay.)
This was no hubris. It was the truth.
The moment Henrik reached his limit, the Primordial Beast would run amok around the whole place, and the humans’ formation would certainly shatter.
Whether his targets were on horseback or not made no difference to him. He could cut down a horse with ease.
Henrik closed the distance. Despite all of the high-density mana around them, there wasn’t a hint of sluggishness in his movements. As if his whole body was but a part of a single blade, he burst forth with a powerful and sharp slash — an outstanding display of talent. He ought to carve a scar into this man’s face to show his respect for that talent.
The moment the Primordial Beast took a step forward, a loud splashing noise could be heard from beneath his feet. His front paw had stepped in a puddle, and the instant he did, he felt something was off.
(Where did this water come from?)
It wasn’t raining, nor was the ground particularly wet anywhere else.
By the time he thought something was up, the water beneath his legs stretched up to envelop the Primordial Beast.
(Water manipulation magic? Mere child’s play.)
So the plan was to trap the Beast in a sphere of water. ‘It would only take a little swipe of his paw to shatter the flimsy membrane holding all this water in.’ The instant he thought that, something else came flying in to the sphere of water.
It was a swarm of countless fish made of water.
“Thy heartless pride, thy teary eyes, O fish who have lost thy words — gather here and wreak mayhem!”
Watery fish thrust at the sphere of water and wormed their way inside. Each fish that approached enlarged the sphere. In effect, distancing the Primordial Beast inside farther and farther from the world outside.
Inside that ceaselessly-expanding sphere, the Beast swam for the edges. To his credit, the Primordial Beast was no slouch at swimming. He could swim through the rough currents of a storm if he had to.
But the inside of this sphere of water was occupied by countless fish swimming about, all made of a wooden stick surrounded by water. These fish stirred up ludicrous currents that hindered the Beast’s ability to swim out.
(Fish made of water. I remember well. Not long ago, I fought that woman with the pointy hat… She was exceptionally powerful; I recall leaving a mark on her face.)
Outside the sphere stood a little girl in a pointy hat, looking like the spitting image of that woman. She pulled out stick after stick, launching fish of water towards him.
One after another, fish made of water flew into the massive, gently floating ball of water.
These fish left shimmering trails of bubbles as they danced through the air, forming beautiful patterns. All of those gathered at the sphere in the center to harass the silver wolf as one big group.
Ella checked the status inside the sphere of water. There, tiny bubbles floated up from the Primordial Beast’s mouth — even that Monster needed to breathe.
“So, what if we trapped the Primordial Beast in water so it can’t breathe?” Ella had suggested to Roswitha.
So, the two of them divided responsibilities and worked together to create this compound magecraft.
To begin with, rather than create water from nothing, it was far more mana efficient to use water magic to manipulate water that already existed. Thus, the two of them made use of the water in the moat outside the walls.
First, Ella would trap the Primordial Beast with a sphere of water. That was one spell.
Meanwhile, she would suck water out from the moat and gather it in front of her. That was her second.
Then, while Ella maintained those two spells, Roswitha would use the water Ella collected to create fish, then attack the Primordial Beast.
With Ella taking care of maintaining the sphere and collecting the water, Roswitha was free to devote all of her attention to controlling her water fish. Typically, Roswitha could only control three fish at once, but thanks to Ella’s help, she could control much, much more. Her fish now numbered one hundred and seventy-seven in all. The weight of sticks she brought were now the value of her magic.
When she suggested this plan, Ella had been worried that Roswitha might not react well to it. The magic Ella used was the Modern Magecraft that Roswitha despised so much. But Roswitha listened to Ella’s suggestion with a smile and told her this:
“Not a bad idea, that.”
That is what the Classical Magecraft prodigy thought of Ella’s idea.
For a brief moment, everyone, soldiers and Monsters alike, was enraptured by the beauty of these watery fish dancing through the sky.
Ella gripped her staff tightly. Her chest filled with an emotion she could not describe in words. She, who had been unable to emit mana for all this time, finally used magecraft for herself. And it played out in a more beautiful form than she could have imagined.
(No, no, now’s not the time to celebrate…)
While the diligent Ella chided herself, Roswitha puffed her chest out and declared for all the world to hear.
“How about that, Ella! Isn’t it pretty! That’s our magic!”
Under her pointy hat was a proud, girlish smile. She looked a world apart from her former self, so obsessed with the pride of Classical Magecraft and seeking her revenge.
So, Ella responded with a similar smile.
“Yes it is, Roswi!”