Early BBYW Vol. 3 Chapter 47 (WN) (Patreon)
Content
Note: This chapter has not been TLCed yet, and might slightly differ from the public version. If you found any typos/mistakes, pls write them in the comment. Thanks.
Translator: Dario
Note 2: This is the web novel version
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Chapter 47 - Fallen Man
We arrived at the palace’s rear entrance and entered without a word from the guards.
Following the light of the torches hanging on the walls and Sue’s directions, we proceeded deeper inside.
Samuel, the minister, had probably made sure to keep the guards out: we did not encounter even one on our way to the throne room.
And the exact moment we arrived in front of the door, a powerful explosion went off inside.
“This is…gunpowder!”
I opened the door, leading the group inside, and we were met with a hellish landscape.
“Tch…they couldn’t make it, in the end.”
There were corpses scattered across the throne room. I recognized their faces, despite the slash wounds: they were the assassins I had met in the minister’s mansion.
“Gah…damn…it…!!”
“Lord Dyngir, a survivor.”
“Right.”
Sakuya motioned to a man lying against the wall, and I approached him.
He was the explosive specialist that introduced himself as Jack the Bomber.
“Jack, so you messed up?”
“...hey there. Yeah. Pathetic, huh?”
Jack raised his head and looked at me, but his eyes had already lost their light.
The wound across his chest was clearly fatal. He probably couldn’t see anymore either.
“Well, this is the way assassins go…at least give me a laugh, pal.”
“I’m not as rotten as to laugh at someone who died in battle. Anything else you’ve got left to say?”
“I haven’t got sh— no wait…just one.”
Jack coughed, spitting blood, then pooled what was left of his strength and grabbed my lapel.
“Turn back and run. That thing…is not human. You can cut him, blast him…but he doesn’t die…no one…can win…”
After these words, the assassin called Jack the Bomber drew his last breath.
“.......”
I gently removed his hand from my lapel, stood up and looked at the far side of the room.
There I saw a man, busy stabbing the back of the body of an assassin lying on the floor.
“Well damn, you were waiting? I guess you’re kinder than the rumors say.”
“I’m not so vulgar as to interrupt a man’s last words. Allow me to welcome you, o nightly guest! I commend you for coming to assassinate me!”
The man had a fairly tanned complexion and was rather handsome.
He had a tough physique, classic for a man of the sea, but his aura was more like a wild beast.
He gave the impression that anyone who got too close would be, without a warning, not cut down by a sword but torn to shreds by fangs and claws.
His black eyes looked straight at me, then he tilted his neck, curiously.
“How strange…I feel like this isn’t our first meeting, boy.”
“Boy? I’m well past the age to be called that. I have to say I feel the same, though…”
I didn’t need to ask: I knew that man was Captain Drake.
I looked at the man, standing among a pile of corpses, and felt a kind of nostalgia, as if I had met a relative for the first time in a while.
Drake seemed to feel the same. For a short while, we just looked at each other, silent.
“Anyway…there’s plenty of things I’d like to ask, but first of all…”
After a few minutes of glaring, or rather, gazing in each other’s eyes, I was the one to break the silence.
“Why did you destroy the monastery? What did those sisters do to deserve an end as brutal as that?”
“.....!”
I could tell that Sue swallowed her breath. She did not make a sound, however, as I had instructed her to do before we entered the throne room.
“Hm? The monastery?”
Drake was caught by surprise. He really seemed to not understand why I would ask such a thing.
“I heard that the minister’s sister was there, see. Well, it was just a game, really.”
“A…game…?”
“Indeed.”
Drake nodded, as if it was nothing.
“I have been trapped in this living hell for more than I can remember. No matter what delicious food I eat, what pleasing woman I take, my heart doesn’t feel anything, anymore. The only time I feel alive is when I torment other people, when I spit in the face of god.”
Drake’s incomprehensible explanation went on and on, like a curse.
He looked ecstatic as he spoke, though, as if he was reciting some arousing poem.
“The brutal murder of pious sisters…what greater challenge, what greater insult could there be to god? Seeing how long that wise-acting minister could hold in his anger was a riot, but more than anything, that was the trigger for you people to come, right?”
Drake spread his arms wide, motioning at the corpses strewn across the throne room.
“So many gathered here today, to end my life! An occasion like this is as delightful as a birthday party! It is a shame that they were not strong enough, but I could enjoy it all the same.”
“Really now…time to die, then.”
I picked up the knife lying at my feet and threw it at Drake as I spoke.
The knife sank into the man’s chest, as if gravitating towards it, and a burst of blood splattered from it.