Early DAR Vol. 4 Chapter 15 Part 4

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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In the middle of the night, Roa stirred, roused by someone gently shaking him awake.

It was around the same time that Coralde was still being dragged through the subterranean maze beneath Amadan by Bruno.

<If you'd rather keep sleeping, I won’t stop you. What will you do?>

As he opened his eyes, he found Uncle Gry’s face right in front of him.

To someone faint of heart, the sheer intensity of that face at such close range might’ve provoked a scream. But Roa simply reached out and wrapped his arms around Uncle Gry’s head, gently stroking the soft feathers as if savoring their texture.

“I’m coming with you.”

<Why the worried look? I told you—there’s nothing to fear.>

As he spoke, Uncle Gry softly brushed Roa’s cheek with the tip of his beak.

“But… it’s a Greater Lich, isn’t it?”

A Greater Lich; a being that, even in life, had attained the title of Grand Mage, now transformed into a powerful monster driven by undying resentment.

Even an ordinary Lich is considered a king among the Undead, commanding immense power. A Greater Lich far surpasses that.

Like other Undead, they can technically be opposed by healers or alchemists, but that only means the tools exist, not that humans could prevail. It’s said that just witnessing one can shatter a person’s mind, driving them into despair before they can even think to resist.

In one recorded case, the mere act of appearing and wandering through a region was enough to annihilate an entire city.

<I understand why humans would fear such a thing. But for high-ranking monsters like myself and the twins, even its soul-corrupting mental attacks won’t work. In that case, it’s no different from a slightly stronger mage. Since it relies solely on magic and doesn’t engage in physical combat, there’s no reason I would lose. Until now, it eluded us only because its incorporeal form was immune to physical attacks—but this time, I have a plan.>

Uncle Gry snorted with something between pride and excitement.

“…Is there no way to avoid it?”

Based on what Uncle Gry was saying, they had long been aware of each other’s presence, yet had never clashed directly. If that was the case, wouldn’t it be enough to simply continue avoiding confrontation?

That’s what Roa’s question was really trying to ask, but in response, Uncle Gry gave a sly grin.

<We could avoid it, but that creature is still obsessed with my old home—the Citadel Dungeon. If I try to reclaim it, there's a high chance it will interfere. The dungeon is equipped with wards against the Undead, so it cannot enter… but it may attempt something outside my predictions. I’d rather eliminate that uncertainty.>

“…Alright. I get it. Guess there’s no helping it… but…”

Roa retrieved a bottle from his Magic Bag, which lay nearby. It was a plain green glass liquor bottle—nothing that stood out at first glance.

“If things get dicey, use this. I might not be able to move when it counts, so I’ll entrust it to the twins.”

Inside the bottle was a high-tier healing potion. Roa wasn’t concerned about appearances—so long as the quality was stable, he used whatever container was available. Unless it was for sale, he often stored them in whatever bottle he had on hand.

<…Isn’t that a bit of overkill?>

Uncle Gry grimaced in exasperation.

Just a spoonful of that high-tier potion would be enough to vaporize an ordinary Lich, and this was an entire bottle. It didn’t look like much, but with that amount, one could annihilate an entire army of Liches.

Even a Greater Lich wouldn’t stand a chance.

Even Uncle Gry, currently opposing the creature, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the enemy.

“Just in case, you know.”

<……>

Too overprotective.

Uncle Gry felt a creeping dread not from Roa’s affection, but from the sheer unnaturalness of his love combined with his monstrous production capabilities.

𑁋

His memories of life were hazy.

When he became aware of himself again, he had already become a Greater Lich.

He didn’t know why he had turned into such an existence. He understood only that he had died for some reason and that his soul had become monstrous. But the core truths remained unknown.

His goal was revenge.

But he had no idea how to achieve it. He was certain he harbored a deep grudge, yet not even the object of that hatred was clear. He didn’t even remember how he had died.

Only when he saw a dragon did an unexplainable terror surge up from within, accompanied by a searing fury. That at least told him a dragon had been involved in his death. But even then, the dragon itself didn’t feel like the true target of his grudge. He didn’t want to kill dragons.

He was fixated on the Citadel Dungeon.

Why that place mattered, he couldn’t say for sure.

But he felt a compulsive need to claim it; he knew it belonged to him.

Through self-analysis, he concluded that he must have once been a figure responsible for overseeing the Citadel back when it was built.

For a fortress like that, it would make sense for a powerful mage to be stationed there.

He had likely commanded many people, guarding the place from some great threat. With that in mind, his desire to reclaim the Citadel Dungeon from the monsters currently occupying it seemed natural.

He didn’t know the truth, but he was confident his guess was close.

And so, he acted on that desire.

But it was futile.

The greatest obstacle was the Citadel’s own defense system, which prevented Undead like himself from entering. Magic wards had been placed to repel such entities; he could not even draw near.

If he had once been the one to install those protections, then it was a cruel irony that he now found himself barred by his own handiwork. All he could do was laugh bitterly.

<He… has returned…>

He had sensed the presence for several days now.

It was the Gryphon that had once ruled the Citadel Dungeon; the same one who had raised the current generation of Gryphons like his own children.

He couldn’t recall exactly when their confrontations began.

But the memory brought with it a strange sense of nostalgia.

His perception of time had long since eroded. Having spent what felt like an eternity as a Greater Lich, even decades passed like a fleeting moment.

Whether something had occurred recently or ages ago no longer made much difference.

Still, enough time had passed that the creature's return felt… nostalgic.

That Gryphon had always been peculiar, unlike any other of its kind.

The first shock had been that it could speak. He knew some high-ranked monsters could comprehend human language, but it was his first time encountering one.

He also learned then that monsters could communicate with one another using voices humans couldn’t hear.

The Gryphon always spoke with a condescending air, yet it wasn’t unpleasant.

Its speech was curiously human, and at times even absurdly naïve.

Though he retained no memories of his past life, the encounter gave him the strange feeling of reuniting with an old friend.

Of course, it was still an enemy.

The Gryphon had used its ability to fly to bypass the magical defenses and settle in the Citadel Dungeon, like an invasive pest. It had to be eradicated at all costs.

Yet none of the power he had gained as a Greater Lich worked on the Gryphon, a high-ranking magic beast.

Even the spells he had honed in life and death had no effect.

He lacked the strength to harm it.

And the Gryphon could not harm him either. His incorporeal, magic-immune form rendered physical attacks meaningless.

They were enemies who could not harm each other.

They glared from across the divide, nothing more.

Sometimes he would sic a Gigant Skeleton on it, but even that amounted to little more than a nuisance. In fact, it seemed to amuse the Gryphon.

Yet over time, the creature began to gaze at him with a peculiar look.

He wished it wouldn’t.

That gaze was one of pity—sympathy for an existence bound to the world even after death.

If you’re going to look at me like that, just erase me entirely…

He wanted to say it, but he knew the Gryphon didn’t have the power to do so.

And if he did say it, he feared the creature would only look at him with even more pity.

And so, those words died in his throat.

One day, the Gryphon vanished.

It had always been capricious. It must’ve simply grown bored of staying.

But now, it had returned.

And this time, it brought with it five humans and two magic wolves.

They had camped close to his hiding place.

Did they intend to destroy him? Had the Gryphon gathered allies to finally end his existence?

Even as he pondered this, he searched for ways to eliminate them.

If the Gryphon had returned, then it had to be purged.

It would try to infest the Citadel Dungeon again.

That would be intolerable; an act he must obstruct with every fiber of his being. His very existence demanded it.

To exact revenge.

To reclaim the Citadel Dungeon.

And…

He would always fight, wholly and without compromise, to fulfill his desire.

𑁋

A short distance from Roa’s camp, there was a barren plain: scorched and lifeless, as if everything had been burned away. Not a single blade of grass remained. Only the wind passed through, whispering over dry earth.

<You’re there, aren’t you?>

Uncle Gry called out into the empty darkness.

The night sky was veiled in shadow, lit only by the faint glow of starlight.

From farther back, Roa watched the scene unfold.

Beside him stood the blue magic wolf. The red one had remained at the camp to guard the sleeping members of Nostalgia.

Around Roa, several Purification Barrier tools had been placed, and the ground was soaked with Holy Water, enough to leave the earth visibly drenched. It was a countermeasure against the Greater Lich, a type of Undead impervious to physical attacks. Against such foes, one could only rely on sacred means to defend oneself. The camp had been fortified in the same manner.

In Roa’s hand was an uncorked potion bottle; ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The blue magic wolf carried another bottle in its jaws, careful not to spill a drop.

A breeze stirred once again.

Roa felt a chill race down his spine.

<No need for theatrics.>

As if answering Uncle Gry’s words, it appeared.

The moment Roa laid eyes on it, his thoughts were consumed by darkness.

Even as the blue magic wolf pressed its body close to his, its warmth did not reach him.

Primal terror swallowed his consciousness. His mind blanked, unable to process anything else. A terrible rattling noise rang out, that of his molars chattering uncontrollably as his whole body trembled.

Regret and guilt flooded his heart. Roa was seized by the conviction that he had no right to live. That he was an unforgivable existence. All the painful memories and buried sins he had forced into the recesses of his heart came surging back, inflated beyond measure.

The thought that he deserved to die crushed him.

As his consciousness teetered on the brink, about to dissolve into despair—

Suddenly, the cold retreated. A gentle warmth embraced him.

“…Uncle Gry?”

A soft cry escaped Roa’s lips.

It was a sensation far too familiar; the feeling of being enveloped in Uncle Gry’s downy feathers.

The terror that had overwhelmed him moments ago vanished, replaced instead by a profound and overflowing happiness. Absolute reassurance. Mutual trust. A certainty that he was loved.

These emotions welled up within Roa’s heart.

But Uncle Gry wasn’t here. He was facing off against the creature at a distance.

Even so, Roa could feel his presence close by.

“Kuuhn…”

The blue magic wolf looked up at him anxiously. Roa wrapped his arms around its warm body.

“…I see.”

So this was what it meant to be connected by a familiar contract, linked through magic circuits.

He had never consciously paid attention to it before, but now he could clearly feel the bond he shared with Uncle Gry.

Roa turned his gaze toward the figure Uncle Gry now confronted.

“That’s the… Greater Lich…”

A tattered robe, barely holding its shape.

Everything else was darkness.

The shadows beneath the hood were thick and stagnant, and its limbs were nothing more than coalesced void.

A humanoid silhouette cloaked in a robe of shadow.

It was said that to merely lay eyes on such a being was enough to shatter the mind, plunge one into despair, and kill them before they could even think to resist.

That was what it meant to face a Greater Lich.

The terror that had gripped him at first glance no longer lingered in Roa’s heart.

The sense of Uncle Gry’s presence, tethered through their familiar contract, brought him calm.

Thinking back, ever since forming that contract, Roa’s heart had always been at ease.

He had assumed it was simply because Uncle Gry and the twins were always nearby, but now he understood that the contract itself had played a role as well.

<Who dares disturb my slumber…?>

The voice sounded as though it came from the depths of the earth.

That Roa could hear it at all was likely because the Greater Lich had once been human before becoming a magic beast.

<Still clinging to that antiquated dramatic flair? Surely you knew it was me.>

<…>

For some reason, Roa sensed amusement in the Greater Lich’s tone.

<Still spreading that dreary Undead gloom everywhere you go, I see.>

<And you're still as tiresome as ever…>

There was a tone of exasperation in that voice.

Despite the heavy aura of dread the creature exuded, Roa couldn’t help but feel… it might not be such a terrible being.

Though Undead typically lost all remnants of their humanity, this Greater Lich seemed to retain some part of it.

Whether that was a unique trait of Greater Liches or not, Roa had no way of knowing.

<As if a mere few decades could change me.>

<Decades… so it’s only been that long…?>

<You’ve gone senile, haven’t you—lost all sense of time, old fool.>

The conversation flowed with a curious tranquility.

Uncle Gry’s expression, too, was relaxed, nothing about the scene felt hostile.

Roa sensed an indescribable connection between the two.

Rather than bitter enemies, they seemed more like longstanding rivals.

𑁋

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