Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 41: Ash Flowers ⑤: Wof’s Defeat
There is a genre of video games called “death games.” These are games where you die repeatedly and learn through trial and error.
This “death game” offered an abundance of weapons.
Swords, axes, and spears were plentiful, as well as whips, clubs, staffs, scythes, and knuckles.
With so many options, I wanted to try them all, using different weapons depending on my mood.
Against the run-of-the-mill enemies, that approach worked. It was fun.
But against the bosses? It was useless.
No matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t win.
Frustrated, I returned to the weapon I always used.
And with that, I won.
Only with that weapon could I win.
It was a bittersweet victory. I felt an overwhelming sense of defeat, realizing that I wasn’t skilled at the game.
Now, I remember that feeling vividly.
—
The black knight moved for the first time, heading toward me.
The Vanish spell struck, erasing parts of its body.
Yet, the black knight did not falter. With unwavering resolve, it raised its sword and closed the distance.
I activated my sixth relic.
“The Arm of the Cosmos…”
Cosmic energy wrapped around my arm. The black knight’s sword struck precisely, but I followed its movements with my gaze and blocked it with the Arm of the Cosmos.
The knight, already battered by the vanish spell, was falling apart.
Still, it displayed terrifyingly precise swordsmanship.
I was certain.
This black knight was a lower-grade Treasure-Class monster—
The lowest level of the highest rank of monsters.
Even as a lower-grade entity, it possessed the strength to single-handedly destroy an entire nation.
“…I hate admitting that this is all I have.”
I struck the black knight with the Arm of the Cosmos.
The black knight shattered and fell, its limbs bending unnaturally and much of its body vanishing. It was over.
At that moment, our eyes met.
They weren’t ghostly flames but beautiful, clear blue eyes.
(…I thank you…)
“What?”
That voice—what was it?
The black knight slowly crumbled, its ashes scattering like flower petals.
“…”
Ash flowers.
I felt like crying from frustration, but I held it in.
“I’ve lost.”
That, at least, I could admit.
The sound of a flute echoed. Ahead of the bridge lay an abandoned village.
No one was there. Most of the buildings had collapsed.
Only the church remained standing, and the flute’s melody came from within.
The church was bronze-hued, its stained glass faded.
As I pushed open the creaking door, the flute’s sound grew louder.
The entrance led straight into the chapel. Underneath the statue of the Holy Mother stood the altar, covered in red dust. On the altar sat a chalice—the source of the flute’s sound.
“…”
Scattered across the chapel’s pews were skeletal remains.
Some were the bones of children.
Something had happened here long ago.
That much was certain.
Whatever it was, it had caused everything.
Though I didn’t know the details, it must have been horrifying and tragic.
The scene before me: a single chalice on a dusty, red altar.
It was a small, child-sized chalice, smooth and silver.
Inside the chalice was a deep red liquid, thick and viscous, appearing almost unnaturally vibrant.
I had no idea what it was, and I didn’t want to know.
From within that crimson liquid, the sound of a flute echoed.
It was cheerful yet somehow dark, dissonant, and off-key.
No—it wasn’t a flute at all.
“…It was a human voice.”
A chorus of countless screams and shouts, cries, wails, and angry roars overlapped and melded together, forming the eerie sound that resembled a flute’s melody.
Why was it like this?
How could such an overwhelming cacophony of anguish emanate from the chalice?
I only understood one thing: this chalice was legendary.
Beyond that, I could say nothing.
But one thing was clear—something had to be done.
I couldn’t leave the chalice as it was.
I reached out, my hand hovering over it.
“…No.”
I had intended to erase it with vanish, but I stopped myself.
It didn’t feel right, as though it wouldn’t truly bring salvation.
That act would feel like an execution.
And execution wasn’t what I wanted.
No, this had to be about salvation. Salvation?
“…I see.”
I wanted to save them.
The countless cries of sorrow and pain—I wanted to save them.
From deep within my pouch, I pulled out an egg-shaped container.
Opening it, I poured its contents into the small chalice.
The moment the elixir touched the thick red liquid—or rather, the instant it touched the chalice itself—it disintegrated into countless particles of light and vanished.
And then, silence.
What had happened here?
What had led to such an atrocity?
I didn’t know.
But whatever it was, it would never happen again.
Never again would these cries of resentment echo like a flute.
It was over.
I left the church and the abandoned village behind.
By the time I returned home, it was late afternoon.
Ah, I was so tired. Truly exhausted.