Akatsuki Translations

The men of Murakumo, having gained temporary freedom, stood transfixed with their mouths agape at the scene unfolding before them on the ground.

Coral soldiers, wielding long spears and thrusting together as a group, were trampled and crushed in an instant by the rabidaemon’s round, hard shell, their lives scattering in a moment. Nearby, the stellar knight soldiers, attempting to slash at the insect’s long legs from horseback with large weapons, were mowed down by a single strike from its gigantic scythe. Their bodies, sent flying, no longer retained any semblance of human form.

The flimsy arrows released from the arrow slits in the castle walls failed to leave even a pebble-sized scratch on the tough exoskeleton. Some tried to repel the demon with fire, but the rabidaemon did not fear the flames. The effect was nonexistent; rather, the humans wielding fire became the insect’s first prey, the conspicuous light serving as a beacon.

The angry shouts that had initially filled many ears were now overshadowed by screams. The men who had valiantly slain enemy soldiers on the battlefield now cried out for help in shrill voices. Though it was the situation he had hoped for, Shuou bit his lip at their screams as they were unilaterally tortured to death.

Suddenly, the rabidaemon roared deafeningly. It raised its scythe-like arms in a threatening stance. The gazes of those readying their weapons in the courtyard and on the castle walls were fixed on this colossal intruder.

“Now!”

It was the perfect opportunity for a group to dash across the plaza. Shuou ran ahead to serve as a guide. “Follow me!” Borge shouted. The group’s feet, treading on the shadows of buildings cast by bonfires, did not move as quickly as expected. Those supporting the injured on either side had also greatly depleted their stamina due to the long confinement in a narrow room with little food. Shuou couldn’t tell them to hurry any more than this.

Passing by the now-unrecognizable statue in the center of the courtyard, just short of the entrance to the building on the opposite side, Shuou spotted a familiar old man gripping a long sword and stopped in his tracks.

–I found him.

Borge, who had similarly halted and looked puzzled, leaned in and opened his mouth.

“Hey, isn’t that–“

From a distance, the veteran soldier Ba Ryouki’s bared teeth could be seen. He’s smiling, Shuou intuited. However, it was impossible to find even a shred of the kindly old man in his appearance. His wide-open eyes, never closing for a moment, glinted with countless red rivers floating in the whites.

“Run.”

Without looking at Borge’s face, Shuou spoke.

“But…”

“I alone am his target. Lead the others and slip past him.”

After a moment’s hesitation, a voice from behind said, “Understood.” The instant he heard the group’s feet move forward, Shuou broke into a run, leaning forward towards the stationary Ba Ryouki.

In response, Ba Ryouki’s mouth moved, shouting something. It was drowned out by the noise made by the giant insect and Coral soldiers making a commotion nearby, but Shuou, who had been staring intently, understood what Ba Ryouki had uttered.

“Duel.”

He spoke the word he had discerned.

In contrast to Ba Ryouki, who was raging with fighting spirit, Shuou’s heart was utterly cold.

He ran straight towards him as if pulled by a string. Shuou drew his sword from his waist. Holding it horizontally, he threw the sword with all his might, imparting a spin, towards Ba Ryouki.

They were already within earshot of each other. Seeing Shuou’s action of discarding his only sword, Ba Ryouki’s face was dyed with the color of rage.

“To throw away your sword… How despicable! You are also a swordsman, are you not?!”

Just before the spinning sword reached Ba Ryouki, Shuou shouted.

“You are mistaken!”

In that instant, Shuou abandoned all the thoughts and senses he had devoted to swordsmanship. Returning to his innocent self, he exhaled deeply.

Ba Ryouki intercepted the spinning sword with his own long sword. Before the wall created by his arm strength and the sturdiness of his fine blade, the spinning sword was effortlessly deflected with a metallic sound. Discerning that moment, Shuou leaped forward in front of Ba Ryouki, putting strength into his legs. It was a fatal range for Ba Ryouki, who gripped a long sword. Beneath the raised blade, a face filled with disappointment and anger looked down upon him. However, Shuou took another step forward, crouching and turning his back.

“Wha–?!”

Bewildered by the unexpected action, Ba Ryouki let out a strained voice.

–What an incredible person.

Seeing Ba Ryouki up close with his innate perceptiveness, Shuou thought this anew. The visible signs of age seemed to be entirely decorative. The injured leg, which should have been impaired from their previous fight, was firmly rooted in the earth as if forgetting the injury. His unwavering torso seemed to eloquently convey just how much training the person standing before him had accumulated.

Taking him by surprise, Shuou kicked the knee of the wounded Ba Ryouki’s leg. The momentum of the already-swung sword remained unchanged. However, the robust veteran’s face contorted in agony.

The sensation of pain gives rise to an irresistible reaction. The moment a threat to life is detected, the body prioritizes defensive movements, even if only for an instant, for the sake of self-preservation. This manifests as predictable behavior, and if discerned, it becomes a clear path to subduing the opponent.

The opening Ba Ryouki showed was momentary. In a situation where an ordinary person might be writhing on the ground clutching their injury, the fact that he possessed such fortitude was indeed impressive. However, even a momentary gap created by a master serves as a crucial opening that determines victory or defeat.

In that instant, which an ordinary person might not even be able to perceive, Shuou did not miss Ba Ryouki slightly lifting his hips, unable to endure the momentary pain. Bearing Ba Ryouki’s stomach on his back as he leaned forward, Shuou grabbed the wrist holding the sword. Allowing the descending force to flow, he raised his hips that had been lowered and lifted Ba Ryouki’s body into the air, bearing his stomach. Once his feet were completely suspended in midair, Shuou further twisted his body to face the opposite direction. As the elbow fell, carried by the momentum, and landed on his shoulder, a dull sensation was conveyed, accompanied by a scream resembling the death throes of a beast. Ba Ryouki, having dropped the sword he had been gripping tightly, rolled to the ground on his back, cradling his right arm that had lost strength.

Without delay, Shuou closed in on Ba Ryouki, who lay on his back with an agonized expression. Grasping his left thigh, Shuou placed his own knee on Ba Ryouki’s kneecap, applying pressure with his weight. Ba Ryouki’s scream from the unimaginable pain suddenly ceased. Looking at him, his face had turned pale, his eyes rolled back, and he had lost consciousness.

Ba Ryouki’s left leg, which had remained healthy despite his age, had already lost the strength to stand.

Turning around, Shuou’s companions, who should have been ahead, had stopped defenseless, their gazes fixed on him in a daze. To urge them on, Shuou silently pointed his finger towards the entrance.

    ＊

Various meaningful gazes were directed at Shuou, who had rejoined them.

Borge suppressed the urge to call out to him with a laugh and entered the barracks alongside Shuou, his expression grim. In contrast to the outside, the inside of the building was dead silent. Judging by the absence of those who usually stayed for security, it seemed that a considerable number of personnel had been mobilized to deal with the rabidaemon.

Heading for the southern room where the armory was located, Shuou, who had taken the lead, suddenly stopped upon noticing a staircase along the way.

“What’s wrong?”

Asked by Borge, Shuou muttered, his gaze still fixed on the stairs.

“I remembered–“

Saying that, he called out to stop Borge, who had set foot on the stairs.

“Ah, hey!”

“Keep going straight ahead! Leave this to me for a bit.”

Leaving those words behind without turning around, Shuou ascended the stairs, leaving the others to watch him go in a daze. Borge rallied them.

“Move your feet! Don’t just stand there in a daze! This is where the real fight begins.”

Urging them on with his hands as if driving them, Borge followed behind them as they ran.

The whispered conversations exchanged by those ahead, their faces close together, could be heard.

“That old man earlier, that was Ba Ryouki, wasn’t it?”

Ba Ryouki’s name resounded throughout the world. Even across countries, the numerous famous duels and anecdotes he had engaged in were too many to mention. It was no exaggeration to say that his name, which had risen to become the face of a nation through swordsmanship alone, had reached the realm of a living legend.

“That guy, he defeated the Ba Ryouki with a single throw?”

“But, didn’t we hear that he had lost in a duel–“

“………”

Everyone fell silent, as if ruminating on something.

Borge grinned secretly behind them. He felt proud of their astonishment towards Shuou, as if it were his own. He wanted to loudly proclaim, “See?” to the people who, until recently, had directed resentful eyes at him for being the only one to survive and be freed.

“It’s a dead end.”

The voice of the person at the front could be heard, and the group abruptly stopped. Pushing through the human wall blocking the corridor and forming a cluster, they reached a room at the end that appeared to be an armory, its door half-open. After confirming that there was no one inside, they peered in and found that, although somewhat reduced in number, there was still more than enough weapons crammed inside to ensure everyone had one.

Borge selected weapons and handed them out to each person. To ensure they could be used even in narrow indoor spaces, he distributed short-bladed swords, spears with good handling, and light shields made of wood and covered with leather to everyone.

Moving as a group was reassuring when encountering enemies, but it was inefficient inside a narrow building. Moreover, if they encountered a person with a sunstone, the equivalent of Murakumo’s brights, there was a risk of being caught all at once. Based on this judgment, Borge decided to organize the group into teams of three and have each team thoroughly search the rooms. At the same time, he had those proficient with horses volunteer and sent them to the stables. Whether it would succeed was a gamble, but it was a necessary move to inform their allies of the situation.

“Those who lack confidence in their legs will keep watch at the entrances and exits. Stay hidden, and if anyone suspicious tries to leave, send word.”

Borge assigned tasks even to the injured and those with severely diminished stamina, ensuring everyone understood their roles. With the confidence that he had done everything he could think of, Borge also took up a sword and ran down the long corridor, shouting orders.

Ahead of them, there was a young Coral soldier who appeared to have hurriedly prepared himself. The moment the man noticed the approaching group and opened his mouth wide, Borge leaped at him, tackling him to the ground. Covering the man’s mouth, he aimed for his heart and thrust his sword two, three times.