Early DAR Vol. 5 Chapter 16 Part 5

Full title: Starting a New Life for the Discarded All-Rounder

Note: If you found any typos/mistakes, pls write them in the comment. Thanks.

Translator: Airis

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The scorched walls, floor, and ceiling stretched endlessly in all directions.

Though the walls were treated to nullify magic and the floor and ceiling were made of stone—leaving only burn marks—had the structure been made from wood, the entire fortress would have gone up in flames. Thanks to Uncle Gry’s wind magic, the area had already cooled, but the intense heat that had once engulfed the space was still evident.

Roa and the others advanced through the aftermath.

“…Uncle Gry, what floor are we on now?”

<Fif—Fifteenth, I believe…>

Roa cast a sidelong, frosty glance at him, and Uncle Gry walked with his head hung low. Even the decorative feathers on his head drooped lifelessly.

Of course, Roa, who had climbed the same stairs, already knew how many floors they'd passed. He had only asked to scold him.

“This floor's completely charred too, huh.”

<Y-Yes… indeed.>

“Oh look, another charred corpse on the floor. I wonder what kind of magic beast that was. Bet it would've yielded some good materials.”

<… …>

At around the second or third floor, Roa had still been fairly understanding, even saying things like “It really burned quite high up.” Given Uncle Gry’s hatred of insects, he’d figured the extreme measures were somewhat justified.

But around the fifth floor, Roa began to sigh heavily. After the tenth, his words took on a distinct edge.

The reason? Materials.

“Think it might’ve been a rare magic beast?”

<… …>

Even if the corpses were charred beyond recognition, Roa could still infer their species from the remaining shapes. Among the scattered remains were a few he didn’t recognize.

That’s when his mood began to shift.

“We’ve just been walking this whole time, haven’t we?”

Roa didn’t shout. When he was genuinely angry, he expressed it quietly.

“No magic beasts showing up either, so it’s just been walk the hallways, find the stairs, climb up, repeat. It’s practically a stroll. Doesn’t really count as training, huh? Too bad for you, Uncle Gry.”

<...Walking is a form of training too, you know?>

Roa rarely displayed his emotions. He had unconsciously developed the habit of suppressing them, maintaining a neutral demeanor in almost every situation.

That habit had taken root during his time with the party Crack of Dawn, where he worked endlessly as an All-Rounder. He had learned that showing emotions—like anger or sadness—after being yelled at, hit, or mocked only invited further abuse.

So he buried his feelings.

The only ones he treated honestly were his familiars.

It was a kind of trust and dependency akin to family. That was why, with Uncle Gry, he could express anger and dissatisfaction, both in words and in attitude.

“…Hey, maybe let up on him already?”

Dietrich spoke up, unable to bear watching any longer.

At first, he’d found it hilarious to see Uncle Gry so dejected, even rooting for Roa’s rare display of emotion. But the oppressive atmosphere was starting to wear on him.

Sure, Uncle Gry had gone overboard, but after being swarmed by insects, it was understandable. He had even taken precautions to keep Roa and the members of Nostalgia safe. Thanks to him, they hadn’t encountered any dangerous magic beasts in the Citadel Dungeon so far.

Compared to his usual cruel pranks, this was relatively harmless.

Watching him get so thoroughly crushed under guilt was starting to feel pitiful.

Not to mention, the current mood reminded Dietrich a little too much of the times he was being scolded by Kristoff or Cornelia—another reason he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Huh? Forgive him for what? I’m not even angry,” Roa said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

So damn annoying, this guy! Dietrich thought, elbowing Kristoff in the ribs and giving him a pointed look: your turn to smooth things over.

“Eh? Me?”

Kristoff hadn’t expected that. He looked to Cornelia for help, but she silently shook her head.

He then turned to Bernhart, who quickly averted his gaze.

As for the twin magic wolves… they had distanced themselves from the group since the start, clearly anticipating how things would unfold. Those two really were sharp.

When he finally looked at Uncle Gry, he was met with a pleading gaze, practically begging for rescue.

Kristoff never imagined he’d be the one Uncle Gry would depend on. Normally, he would’ve been thrilled at being acknowledged by such a powerful being, but right now, it just felt like his escape route had been cut off.

Roa might seem mild-mannered, but he was incredibly stubborn.

That much was a shared understanding among the familiars and members of Nostalgia.

And if Roa claimed he “wasn’t angry,” then no amount of persuasion was going to change his mind. There was no chance of talking him into forgiveness now.

“S-So anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask!”

In the end, Kristoff tried changing the subject to lighten the mood.

“Um, so… Uncle Gry used to be the master of this place, right?”

He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but no better topic came to mind. It had always intrigued him, but he’d held back from asking. Nobody ever brought it up, and it had started to feel like a taboo.

Besides, it was hard to reconcile the idea that the gryphon following around a jack-of-all-trades kid was once the master of the deadliest dungeon in existence.

“That much should’ve been obvious the moment he called this place his old nest. You don’t subjugate someone like him with brute force.”

“Uncle Gry is obviously the master, isn’t he?”

“Definitely the master.”

“There’s no way the mighty Uncle Gry, wielder of ultimate magic, could be anything else!”

Before Uncle Gry could reply, everyone else answered in unison, as if to say “You’re only realizing that now?”

Apparently, the reason no one had brought it up was because everyone already took it for granted.

Kristoff had suspected as much, but he didn’t expect them to be that confident about it.

“Then he probably got too arrogant and got kicked out by the other gryphons, huh?”

“Nah, knowing him, he probably left over something ridiculously petty.”

“Maybe he just wanted to eat something rare?”

“No doubt he departed in search of the ultimate magic!”

Each person offered their own theory about why he’d left, speaking freely and without restraint. Meanwhile, Uncle Gry glared at Kristoff with unspoken malice, eyes filled with lingering resentment.

Sure, the mood had lightened, but apparently, Kristoff had chosen the wrong topic.

He wasn’t being intimidated, but the sheer pressure of that stare made him avert his gaze with a strained smile.

<…We should be seeing the stairs soon. However…>

Uncle Gry suddenly looked away from Kristoff and murmured.

“However?” Roa asked.

The irritation from earlier had faded, and seeing that, Uncle Gry’s expression softened in relief.

<It’s sealed off. I didn’t know there was a mechanism like this.>

When they arrived at the stairwell, they found that the path to the next floor was blocked by a metal plate.

Upon investigation by Kristoff, it turned out the seal wasn’t hastily added; it had been built that way from the start. According to Uncle Gry, the floors above this were reserved for high-ranking military officers. The mechanism was likely intended to prevent enemies from breaching the upper levels from below.

This structure had twenty floors in total.

The remaining five floors and the rooftop above them were the domain of the true rulers of the Citadel Dungeon, the winged magic beasts.

<Let’s blast a hole through it!>

The barrier was just an iron plate. It was quite thick—thick enough that even with both Dietrich and Kristoff pushing against it, it didn’t budge an inch.

Given that it was a defensive structure, it wasn’t something meant to be moved by hand. It was likely designed to be opened and closed from the upper floors using some mechanism. There was also the possibility that it was locked or barred with a bolt.

Still, piercing it would be trivial with Uncle Gry’s magic.

However, another issue presented itself. Due to the magic defenses of the Citadel Dungeon, even Uncle Gry was unable to scout what lay beyond this point. They had no idea what kind of magic beasts might be waiting above.

<I’ll punch a hole through it. The moment it opens, you fire your spell, servant! I’m giving you the honor, see that you fulfill your role properly.>

“Of course, Uncle Gry, sir! I will carry out my duty, even if it costs me my life!”

Since they couldn’t scout ahead, the plan was to fire off a spell the moment the hole was made to secure the area preemptively.

It would’ve been quickest to have Uncle Gry do it himself, but given his history of incinerating everything from the first to the fifteenth floor, someone else had been chosen for the task. Though he made it sound like he was graciously yielding the role, it had actually been decided through discussion.

Uncle Gry had started calling Bernhart his “servant” at some point.

No one had the energy to correct him anymore, and Bernhart himself looked genuinely pleased every time he was addressed that way. At this point, he was a servant in both name and deed.

With a hiss, Uncle Gry’s earth magic opened a hole in the iron plate.

At the same time, Bernhart unleashed a bolt of lightning.

“…No impact.”

“Looks like we weren’t being ambushed.”

Bernhart felt no resistance, and now that the hole was open, Kristoff’s detection magic revealed nothing either.

“They must’ve realized we’d already infiltrated long ago.”

“Well, Uncle Gry did make quite the scene.”

Dietrich muttered, and Roa followed up, still with a slight edge in his voice.

Roa was continuing to chide Uncle Gry, but the entire group had assumed from the beginning that their presence had already been discovered.

After all, the moment Uncle Gry arrived near the Citadel Dungeon, gryphons had detected him and launched an attack. There was no way they hadn’t noticed them approaching.

What unsettled them was the fact that, despite this, the dungeon’s true masters had yet to take any clear defensive action.

<You’re being too naive.>

“Baw!”

“Baw!”

Just as Uncle Gry and the twin magic wolves spoke, a shadow burst forth from the hole.

Like a gust of wind, it hurtled straight toward Bernhart, who had stepped forward to cast magic.

A sharp shriek rang out.

<Oh? A bat. Just two of them for now, it seems. Looks like they remembered I specialize in lightning and placed beasts with resistance. Servant, best avoid using wind and lightning magic. There’s a good chance they’ve fielded beasts resistant to both.>

It was the twins who brought down the enemy.

Each had pinned one of the large, winged beasts underfoot. The creatures flailed, wings spread wide, and each wing about as tall as Roa.

Thunderbats—bat-type magic beasts.

They flew with lightning-like speed and could paralyze humans with small jolts of electricity.

Their unique skin and rapid movement made them difficult to detect with magic. By the time you noticed them, they were already upon you, a truly troublesome foe.

However, their movements were linear. If you could detect them early and accurately predict their path, even the slower twins could capture them like this.

<Stay sharp. Relying on amateur magic will get you killed.>

The twins fired a magic blow at the Thunderbats’ head, finishing them off. Then strutted over to Roa’s group. 

They gave light pats to Bernhart’s and Kristoff’s thighs with their forepaws, as if saying, “Get it together, you two!”

Then, they trotted over to Roa and pressed against him, clearly demanding praise.

𑁋

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