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sutepri[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 4/10
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The Flame Battle Formation spell was originally an actively defensive magic meant for use against a large attacking force. Compared to offensive spells meant to kill and wound the enemy, the destructive power of the explosions is low . . . but even so, taking a direct hit can result in death, and even just absorbing the aftershocks is painful. Quite ridiculously painful, at that. On top of being scorched by the flames, it is really no different from being pummeled on all sides by bludgeons.
"O Denizens of--"
"Just wait a second, wouldja?!" Bruised and battered though he was, Big Noise got to his feet and shouted, "What the hell kind of messed-up fighting style is that?!"
"Huh . . ."
She seemed a bit hurt by this criticism. Raquel's face took on a slightly dissatisfied expression.
In Big Noise's case, one could say that he was digging his own grave. Among those mages who have received proper training in battles against other mages, not one would indulge in a leisurely chat in the presence of her enemy.
Basically, Big Noise (who was used to ambushing civilians), did not know the fundamentals of fighting against another mage.
"You looking down on me? You toying with me, jackass?! Getting all full of yourself just because your capacity is a tiny bit higher than mine!"
"I didn't mean to . . ." Raquel responded very sincerely to the killer's harsh words, and her expression clouded over. However, in the next moment, she tightened her expression--well, even then, by universal standards it was quite lax--and said, "I understand. So as not to be rude, I too will fight to the best of my ability."
She clenched her fists and strengthened her resolve, but as you may expect, it ill-suited her.
" . . . heh? No, that's--"
"I'll use an absolutely, positively sure-kill mortal spell to defeat you in one blow, so you won't suffer. Please set your mind at ease. As long as it's a direct hit, you will be--without leaving a single strand of hair or a single bit of flesh behind, without having any time to feel pain or distress, absolutely flawlessly, beyond all reason, and insuperably perfectly--dead."
". . . wai . . ."
Watching Raquel, who seemed extraordinarily happy as she said this unthinkable thing, Big Noise grew pale.
The girl before his eyes bore no trace of bloodlust.
And neither did she have any trace of guilt in place of it. If she said that she would kill, then she would do exactly that, without hesitation, just as though she were cracking open an egg--she had that sort of air about her.
"To be honest," Raquel said, giving him an easy smile, "I've been wanting to try this just o~nce. Tee hee."
Like a little girl confessing some silly prank, she stuck her tongue out a bit and laughed. If we are to talk about cute, then that was indeed cute, but given the circumstances, it was the cuteness of a devil.
"Ah. But keep this a secret from Shannon, won't you? He can be fairly bossy, you know."
". . . !"
Big Noise was speechless. He wanted to shower jeers on her, but terror captured his mind, and the words would not come out. All he could do was meaninglessly open and close his mouth, as though he were struggling for breath.
"At your insistence, here I go. First-class tactical military-grade offensive spell, Thor!"
"Wai . . . waaaaaait!"
The killer's pitiful screams echoed down the gloomy corridor.
"A c . . . corpse . . ." Pacifica said in a choked voice, her legs giving out. She sank to the floor.
She had no fear of dead bodies. She had been to any number of funerals in her neighborhood, not just her father's, and it was not just once or twice that she had lain flowers on a casket.
However . . .
Still cradling the corpse, Convict turned to face her.
The thing he was holding so carefully was clearly decaying.
They were quite filthy, but the tiny corpse was dressed in a white blouse and a rusty brown skirt. In life, it had probably been a little girl, but the body had decomposed to such a degree that even the sex was impossible to tell, and bones showed in some places as well.
Her flaxen hair--which was all that remained to suggest the beauty she had possessed while she was still alive--swayed sadly.
"What is this . . . What's going on . . . ?!"
"What . . . are you afraid of?" Convict said in a dry whisper.
His eyes were facing her, but they probably weren't seeing Pacifica. Perhaps they saw nothing at all. Those eyes remained fixed on some unthinkably far-distant place.
"That . . . What is that?!"
"My daughter. Linthia," Convict said lovingly as he stroked the corpse's cheek. He showed the same tender concern as a father watching his soundly sleeping child's face. "My daughter . . . is sick. It will take . . . very, very powerful . . . curative magic . . . to heal her. I need to hire . . . several first-class mages . . . for several days. That's why . . . I need money."
"What--what are you talking about?"
"I bear . . . no grudge against you, but . . . for Linthia's sake . . . I'll sacrifice you."
Pacifica did not understand.
However she looked at it, Convict was holding a corpse. Rather than sick, she was already long dead.
Convict turned his cloudy eyes on Pacifica.
The moment she looked directly into those eyes, Pacifica realized it.
He was broken.
This man's mind and heart were completely broken. So badly that he could not even perceive that his own daughter had died.
His daughter, suffering through her illness . . . surely just that was burned into this man's eyes. He saw nothing but that. He could see nothing but that.
"She's dead! That's . . . just a dead body! She's already dead!"
"What . . . are you saying?" Convict's melancholy voice was tinged by a dark rage. "I'll . . . protect . . . Linthia. I won't . . . hand her over . . . to anyone. She is . . . my daughter. You . . . you're lying . . . because you're trying to take . . . Linthia . . . away from me."
They had not been on the same page since they first started talking.
Softly, gently placing the corpse on the ground, Convict began walking toward Pacifica.
"I won't let you. Die."
He carelessly raised his hand overhead . . . and then let it swing back down.
A silver light surged from his cuff. Instinct driving at her back, Pacifica instantly dove to the side. The silver light scythed through her hair. The barrette that kept her upswept hair in place flew into the air, ringing shrilly.
[Next] [Previous]
By the way, if I ever go for more than, say, two weeks without posting a translation, please feel free to poke me, either by e-mail, by PM, or by commenting on the most recent translation. I promise you I will not be annoyed. You'll actually be doing me a favor, as I am quite easily distracted. XD;
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 4/10
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The Flame Battle Formation spell was originally an actively defensive magic meant for use against a large attacking force. Compared to offensive spells meant to kill and wound the enemy, the destructive power of the explosions is low . . . but even so, taking a direct hit can result in death, and even just absorbing the aftershocks is painful. Quite ridiculously painful, at that. On top of being scorched by the flames, it is really no different from being pummeled on all sides by bludgeons.
"O Denizens of--"
"Just wait a second, wouldja?!" Bruised and battered though he was, Big Noise got to his feet and shouted, "What the hell kind of messed-up fighting style is that?!"
"Huh . . ."
She seemed a bit hurt by this criticism. Raquel's face took on a slightly dissatisfied expression.
In Big Noise's case, one could say that he was digging his own grave. Among those mages who have received proper training in battles against other mages, not one would indulge in a leisurely chat in the presence of her enemy.
Basically, Big Noise (who was used to ambushing civilians), did not know the fundamentals of fighting against another mage.
"You looking down on me? You toying with me, jackass?! Getting all full of yourself just because your capacity is a tiny bit higher than mine!"
"I didn't mean to . . ." Raquel responded very sincerely to the killer's harsh words, and her expression clouded over. However, in the next moment, she tightened her expression--well, even then, by universal standards it was quite lax--and said, "I understand. So as not to be rude, I too will fight to the best of my ability."
She clenched her fists and strengthened her resolve, but as you may expect, it ill-suited her.
" . . . heh? No, that's--"
"I'll use an absolutely, positively sure-kill mortal spell to defeat you in one blow, so you won't suffer. Please set your mind at ease. As long as it's a direct hit, you will be--without leaving a single strand of hair or a single bit of flesh behind, without having any time to feel pain or distress, absolutely flawlessly, beyond all reason, and insuperably perfectly--dead."
". . . wai . . ."
Watching Raquel, who seemed extraordinarily happy as she said this unthinkable thing, Big Noise grew pale.
The girl before his eyes bore no trace of bloodlust.
And neither did she have any trace of guilt in place of it. If she said that she would kill, then she would do exactly that, without hesitation, just as though she were cracking open an egg--she had that sort of air about her.
"To be honest," Raquel said, giving him an easy smile, "I've been wanting to try this just o~nce. Tee hee."
Like a little girl confessing some silly prank, she stuck her tongue out a bit and laughed. If we are to talk about cute, then that was indeed cute, but given the circumstances, it was the cuteness of a devil.
"Ah. But keep this a secret from Shannon, won't you? He can be fairly bossy, you know."
". . . !"
Big Noise was speechless. He wanted to shower jeers on her, but terror captured his mind, and the words would not come out. All he could do was meaninglessly open and close his mouth, as though he were struggling for breath.
"At your insistence, here I go. First-class tactical military-grade offensive spell, Thor!"
"Wai . . . waaaaaait!"
The killer's pitiful screams echoed down the gloomy corridor.
"A c . . . corpse . . ." Pacifica said in a choked voice, her legs giving out. She sank to the floor.
She had no fear of dead bodies. She had been to any number of funerals in her neighborhood, not just her father's, and it was not just once or twice that she had lain flowers on a casket.
However . . .
Still cradling the corpse, Convict turned to face her.
The thing he was holding so carefully was clearly decaying.
They were quite filthy, but the tiny corpse was dressed in a white blouse and a rusty brown skirt. In life, it had probably been a little girl, but the body had decomposed to such a degree that even the sex was impossible to tell, and bones showed in some places as well.
Her flaxen hair--which was all that remained to suggest the beauty she had possessed while she was still alive--swayed sadly.
"What is this . . . What's going on . . . ?!"
"What . . . are you afraid of?" Convict said in a dry whisper.
His eyes were facing her, but they probably weren't seeing Pacifica. Perhaps they saw nothing at all. Those eyes remained fixed on some unthinkably far-distant place.
"That . . . What is that?!"
"My daughter. Linthia," Convict said lovingly as he stroked the corpse's cheek. He showed the same tender concern as a father watching his soundly sleeping child's face. "My daughter . . . is sick. It will take . . . very, very powerful . . . curative magic . . . to heal her. I need to hire . . . several first-class mages . . . for several days. That's why . . . I need money."
"What--what are you talking about?"
"I bear . . . no grudge against you, but . . . for Linthia's sake . . . I'll sacrifice you."
Pacifica did not understand.
However she looked at it, Convict was holding a corpse. Rather than sick, she was already long dead.
Convict turned his cloudy eyes on Pacifica.
The moment she looked directly into those eyes, Pacifica realized it.
He was broken.
This man's mind and heart were completely broken. So badly that he could not even perceive that his own daughter had died.
His daughter, suffering through her illness . . . surely just that was burned into this man's eyes. He saw nothing but that. He could see nothing but that.
"She's dead! That's . . . just a dead body! She's already dead!"
"What . . . are you saying?" Convict's melancholy voice was tinged by a dark rage. "I'll . . . protect . . . Linthia. I won't . . . hand her over . . . to anyone. She is . . . my daughter. You . . . you're lying . . . because you're trying to take . . . Linthia . . . away from me."
They had not been on the same page since they first started talking.
Softly, gently placing the corpse on the ground, Convict began walking toward Pacifica.
"I won't let you. Die."
He carelessly raised his hand overhead . . . and then let it swing back down.
A silver light surged from his cuff. Instinct driving at her back, Pacifica instantly dove to the side. The silver light scythed through her hair. The barrette that kept her upswept hair in place flew into the air, ringing shrilly.
[Next] [Previous]
By the way, if I ever go for more than, say, two weeks without posting a translation, please feel free to poke me, either by e-mail, by PM, or by commenting on the most recent translation. I promise you I will not be annoyed. You'll actually be doing me a favor, as I am quite easily distracted. XD;
