Early TNG Vol. 23 Chapter 1 Part 3

Full title: THE NEW GATE

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

Translator: Canon

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After rescuing the wounded, Shin and his companions spent their time repairing collapsed installations and surveying the surroundings.

The aftermath of Nuva and its horde of monsters proved less severe than they had anticipated.

Sensing that the danger had passed, marine life slowly began returning to the waters.

Three days after the battle ended, Shin was taking a short rest after finishing cleanup in his assigned sector when Armaiz emerged from the sea.

Still in his original massive form, his rise sent waves swelling and surging toward the shore where Shin stood.

“Hey. Out patrolling the area?”

Shin sidestepped the wash at his feet as he called out. Armaiz shrank down as he approached.

“Yes. The crisis has passed, but, with most life gone from these waters, other monsters may try to claim this as territory. Natural though that may be, we cannot allow it now.”

Now about three mels tall, Armaiz spoke while gazing out over the ocean.

Even beneath the waves, monsters held defined territories. In the game era, some of these had been set as area bosses. Within their domains, some ruled alone, while others commanded hosts of retainers.

What Armaiz found problematic was that such bosses, and their kin, invariably attacked intruders.

Parda Island—the Black Faction’s base—was still immobilized after the strain on its engines during the battle with Nuva. Should a monster establish territory here, attacks on the island would be inevitable.

It would be disastrous to invite interference during restoration. That was why Armaiz tirelessly patrolled the perimeter.

“Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Yes. Though the greatest danger has passed, the leyline disturbance will not settle immediately. Until it does, I shall remain. Moreover, the bones of my former body are still buried. Left as they are, they could cause harm—they must be unearthed.”

The soul once housed in those bones had transferred into a new body through Shin’s item, leaving little power behind. Yet Divine Beast bones were still rare materials. They had already influenced the leyline; if left alone, further anomalies might arise.

But excavation could not be done carelessly. Armaiz had arranged to work with the Black Faction, consulting Druk and the other department heads.

“I could always store them in my Item Box.”

“I considered that, but taking them all at once would risk collapsing the ore bed. Were the leylines stable, it might be different, but in their current state, we cannot recklessly use magic.”

“True. And bones aren’t exactly something you can split into small pieces to store.”

Both the Item Box and card form required items to fit into certain “slots.”

You could store them by whole ribs or vertebrae, but not by a few centimeters off a rib tip or a splinter of a spine. Perhaps with training it might be possible, but not yet.

Given the size of Armaiz’s bones, even a single rib missing would leave a gaping void, which could cause the entire ore bed to collapse.

“And when it’s all over? What then?”

“Then I will once more wander the seas. That is my role.”

“I see.”

Even after all he had endured, Armaiz intended to continue fulfilling his duty.

“I will not forget the debt I owe this island and your companions. Should you ever require my strength, call me.”

“I’d be grateful for a Divine Beast’s aid. Come to think of it, Tzaobath told me much the same.”

This was the second time a Divine Beast had offered Shin its strength—Tzaobath, the Ancient Dragon, being the first. In the game, such a thing would have been unthinkable, and the thought slipped out unbidden.

“Tzaobath? Then he is like me—a Divine Beast?”

“Yeah. We once joined forces to bring down a monster. He lives at my comrade’s base, so I can contact him easily. What about you, Armaiz?”

“In that case… take this.”

As Armaiz spoke, a small light appeared between them.

It whirled into a spiral and condensed into a crystal about three cemels across. Semi-transparent, it was shaped like a finely cut octahedron.

“This item allows temporary long-distance communication. To use it, simply channel mana into it. Besides voice, it will also reveal our locations to one another.”

“Got it. I’ll make good use of it.”

Shin placed the communication crystal into his Item Box, then looked back to Armaiz.

Following his gaze, Shin noticed Retoneka seated in the shade of a tree.

“Taking a break, I guess.”

“Seems so… Shin. Did that girl lose kin in the battle?”

“Hm? No, nothing like that. Why?”

Wondering what had drawn his attention, Shin studied Retoneka.

At first glance, she was simply resting in the shade during a break. Progress on repairs varied by area, and, since she was within view, she had likely been working near Shin’s sector. That meant her resting was nothing unusual.

What did stand out, faintly, was her somber expression.

“There is something about her presence… unlike the others who live on this island. Before the battle, I judged it harmless and ignored it. But now that I can observe calmly, the dissonance is clear.”

It seemed Armaiz had asked about her kin not merely out of sympathy, but because he sensed something more.

“A sense of dissonance, huh. I mean, I can guess what you’re picking up on, but I don’t think it’s anything so severe that even a Divine Beast like you would be bothered by it.”

Shin suspected that Retoneka might be a half-blood of two different races.

He had actually seen such cases before and remembered how they appeared under 【Analyze】. Retoneka displayed in the same way.

These hybrids, inheriting the traits of two races, were called “Criticals.” They had never existed in the game era. Perhaps it was this unknown quality that pricked Armaiz’s senses.

And yet, even as he thought it through, Shin had a nagging feeling he was wrong.

If Retoneka’s presence was so anomalous that even Armaiz noticed, then someone like Schnee or Tiera should have sensed something as well.

Yuzuha, too—with her restored perception—should have mentioned it before the Nuva affair ever came to light.

“Mind if I ask what you think it is?”

“Well… there are beings like that, or so I’ve heard—”

Pressed by Armaiz, Shin explained about half-bloods.

Still, he added that such cases were rare, and Retoneka didn’t strike him as anything of the sort.

“An existence carrying traits of different races. That is conceivable. But even if they are different races, their power still falls under the same human framework. To carry multiple strains within one vessel should not, in itself, provoke this level of dissonance.”

To Shin’s ears, Armaiz sounded unconvinced. After a short silence, he muttered, almost to himself, “If anything, this feels more like—”

“You have an idea?”

Shin pressed, recalling the question Armaiz had asked earlier.

The Divine Beast stayed quiet at first, then spoke before Shin could repeat himself.

“Forgive me. I was concentrating. I think I’ve pinpointed what it is. But… could such a thing really exist?”

“Such a thing?”

Armaiz frowned in puzzlement.

“Within that girl, I sense both human and monster power intermingled. Things that should be incompatible, coexisting in one vessel—that is what my senses tell me.”

“Human and monster power both? You mean… Retoneka is a half between human and monster?”

That would have been impossible in the game. There had been events or side stories where orphans were raised by monsters, but they were still human, through and through. No scenario existed where they actually acquired monster powers.

“I cannot say for certain. But it would explain what I feel. No other reason comes to mind for her existence.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing either. Couldn’t someone absorb power from living alongside monsters?”

“Human and monster mana are alike, yet not the same. Both we and you wield magic, but without special abilities or tools, there’s no sharing or transfer between them, is there? That’s how different the qualities of our mana are.”

By “special abilities,” Armaiz referred to bonds like those between summoners and their beasts, or tamers and their familiars. Shin’s contract with Yuzuha fell into that category.

“But this is only my conjecture—imagining what it would mean if my perception could truly manifest in reality. It could be some technique unknown to me, or special circumstances at work. There’s no clear answer.”

“Fair enough. It’s concerning, but she looks drained right now, and asking her directly about what you sensed doesn’t feel right. I’ll bring it up casually with Druk instead.”

Even with Armaiz’s suspicions, Shin did not believe Retoneka was dangerous.

Considering what he had heard from Druk, her actions made sense. Since coming to Parda Island, Shin had often seen her working diligently at the restoration. Nothing about her conduct seemed off.

“For now, maybe I’ll just ask why she seems down.”

Parting with Armaiz, who returned to his patrol, Shin approached Retoneka as she rested in the shade.

His first impression of her hadn’t been good, but not to the point of avoiding conversation. Ever since Druk had cautioned her, she had stopped pestering him about apprenticeship.

Since rescuing her after the battle with Nuva, their only exchanges had been casual greetings when passing one another during reconstruction. That was the extent of their relationship.

“Yo, taking a break?”

“Ah, Sir Shin.”

Retoneka lifted her face, her expression softening as she replied.

Had Shin not spoken with Armaiz earlier, he might have assumed her downcast look was nothing more than fatigue.

“Did you need something?”

“No, I just happened to see you and thought I’d stop by for a chat. You looked a little worn out.”

It was a bit more familiar than his usual way of speaking with her, but Shin tried to keep the mood light.

“Forgive me for troubling you. I was only taking a break, I must have been more tired than I realized.”

“I see. Mind if I sit? I was about to take a rest myself.”

“Of course. But I didn’t expect someone like you to get tired, Sir Shin.”

“Even with high stats, that doesn’t mean I don’t get weary. I still get sleepy and hungry like anyone else.”

Shin lowered himself beside her, adding with a touch of humor. Right on cue, his stomach growled.

“…See?”

He laughed wryly to cover his embarrassment. Checking the time, he saw it was only half an hour until lunch.

“Hehe, I suppose that proves it. Still, it’s surprising, the stories I’ve heard of you on the battlefield gave me quite a different image.”

“You heard about the fighting? …From the command post, then.”

Shin recalled how he had rescued her from the collapsed tower, which Nuva’s roar had destroyed. If she had seen his battle, it must have been from one of the towers that remained standing, or from the command post itself.

“Not everything was clear at that distance. But with how massive the opponent was, it was easy to see you were doing something extraordinary.”

The sheer difference in scale between Shin and Nuva had seemed absurd. And yet, when Shin swung his blade, the monster’s colossal frame split cleanly in two. That was what Retoneka had been told.

The Black Faction’s combat units had withdrawn to defend the island, so Shin hadn’t thought anyone was watching. Not that it would have mattered; Nuva had demanded his full attention.

And it wasn’t unreasonable that the command post had sent lookouts to witness the battle firsthand.

“Nuva really was enormous. If I ran into something like that in the deep sea, it’d leave me traumatized.”

Shin remembered diving into the ocean with the magic vessel. In the darkness of the seabed, encountering a monster like Nuva would have been enough to make the faint of heart faint outright.

Back in the game’s early days, incidents like that had actually happened. It was considered  scarier than most horror games.

And not just in THE NEW GATE; other games with similar stage designs had received the same complaints. It was the downside of building a realistic world.

“But no matter how frightening, when the time comes, we still have to fight, don’t we?”

Though Shin had spoken lightly, Retoneka’s reply came in a voice weighted with resolve, as if she were admonishing herself. He was now certain, she wasn’t simply tired.

“Yeah. If battle can’t be avoided, then you take up your weapon and resist.”

Just as the Black Faction had armed themselves to confront Nuva, and just as Armaiz had chosen to fight alongside Shin and the faction.

There were times when one had no choice but to fight.

“Of course, not everyone fights the same way. You and Druk focus on crafting the arms for it, rather than wielding them directly.”

There were countless ways to contribute to a fight without stepping onto the battlefield. Support roles were often the most vital of all.

“Neither fighters alone nor weapons alone are enough. It’s best when both are present. Especially for Chosen Ones, they rely heavily on smiths. I know someone who couldn’t unleash her full strength because her weapon couldn’t endure it. Until she found the right blade, she struggled constantly.”

As he spoke, Shin thought of a princess he knew, one who wielded a greatsword. He himself had ruined more than one low-ranked weapon in the past.

“Weapons, huh.”

“Something on your mind?”

He was careful not to sound like he was pressing her, but he had to ask.

“Sir Shin. If you had fought Nuva with only the weapons we forged… could you have won?”

“…That’s a hard one. Strictly speaking, what defeated Nuva wasn’t weapons or skills alone. But if I’d had only Black Faction arms, it would’ve been rough. We’d have had to call back Tiera and Sety from defending the island and slowly grind it down.”

Some say a master doesn’t need fine tools, but Shin disagreed; a true master valued his gear all the more.

For adventurers, equipping themselves properly was only natural. Victories could hinge on the quality of one’s arms.

Sensing what Retoneka was really asking, Shin still answered without evasion.

“You’re right. With our current techniques, our weapons still fall far short for those at your level.”

“Maybe so. But if you give up there, you’ll never get further.”

“I know. My masters won’t stop researching. The one falling short… is me.”

Her voice dropped to a murmur.

“...Since that day, I haven’t been able to put any strength into my hand when I pick up the hammer.”

Retoneka drew her knees in, making herself small.

“Just being struck by the battle’s aftershocks from afar left me trembling. Nuva didn’t even notice us, and still, I couldn’t move.”

Nuva’s roar had done more than destroy supplies and structures. Its overwhelming force had left many scarred in body and in heart.

Though she wasn’t a frontline fighter, Retoneka was still a Chosen One. Her heightened perception made her grasp the terror more acutely than ordinary people.

“I’ll tell you this much, the last battle wasn’t normal. The reason casualties were so few was pure luck. If it had gone on longer, neither the defense force nor the island would have remained intact.”

Shin’s presence—and that of his companions—had been decisive. But the numbers had been against them, grotesquely so.

At times, he had felt as though the monsters would spawn without end. Only the synergy of his title and Yuzuha’s power had allowed him to finish Nuva off quickly enough to minimize losses.

“My master told me the same. I understand it here—” she tapped her head, “—but my body refuses to believe it.”

In this world, a smith’s work was bound to survival.

Weapons determined whether their wielders could slay the foe. Armor determined whether they lived to see another dawn.

That was the burden Druk bore, the burden Retoneka bore, the burden of all smiths.

And yet, what if?

What if her weapon had been too weak, and Nuva had endured?

What if her armor had been too frail, and the wearer had died?

It was the fear every smith carried. That one’s own lack of skill might cost another their life.

Shin realized that Retoneka—herself a Chosen One—had never suffered such a blow before. Now, for the first time, she was being crushed by the weight of responsibility: the possibility that her craft might decide whether someone lived or died.

“Are you… afraid to let others use your weapons now?”

“…Yes. When I imagine a weapon breaking in the middle of a fight, I can’t stop the fear.”

Shin’s guess had been right. Despite the blazing sunlight, Retoneka’s shoulders were trembling.

(Alright… how should I handle this?)

He hesitated, searching for the right words.

Retoneka’s worry was all too common in this world. To some degree, he felt it too. No matter how thoroughly you prepare, gear can fail.

Back in the game era, his weapons and armor had been shattered by monsters more times than he could count. He could still remember cursing to high heaven whenever he ran into those weapon-breaker types.

But the psychological damage here was on a different scale entirely.

If a weapon you had forged with confidence shattered—and its wielder died with it—you might abandon smithing altogether. There would be no player reviving after a death penalty to shout complaints at you. Not here.

“Hm. Retoneka, why did you want to become a smith in the first place?”

Deciding that a few easy reassurances wouldn’t solve anything, Shin aimed at the root.

Given what he’d heard from Druk about her past, there was a chance her desire for revenge could flare again. Even so, having the fire act toward a goal was better than sinking into fear.

Whatever the reason, she needed something that would let her rally herself. As things stood, she might grow to fear not just smithing, but creation itself.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Most smiths I’ve spoken with do it because they love making things. With you… I feel it’s different. You still want to forge gear to help those who fight, but the core of your drive isn’t quite the same.”

“How much do you know about me?”

From his tone, Retoneka realized he’d heard about her past.

“I know you were an orphan. And I’m guessing you’re a Chosen One specialized for smithing.”

“So you’ve heard that much. Well, I imagine you recognized I was a Chosen One right away. Pieces made by skill alone and pieces shaped by skills behave differently. Anyone with an eye for it can gauge my ability from what I’ve forged.”

“I also heard you’re good. Ever since we first met, your determination was obvious.”

She was the one who’d jumped in to watch him forge a blade even at the expense of her own tasks. Whatever her motives, her hunger to improve had been plain.

“You’re not wrong. But my reason for honing my craft isn’t quite the same as my masters.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“Sure. Everyone already knows.”

What she told him matched almost exactly what Druk had shared, though there were a few new details.

“I’m apparently a little different from ordinary Chosen Ones. I’m Dragnil, but… I can sense the will of things—no, more like I somehow know their condition. My father warned me again and again not to spread that around.”

“That’s a serious secret to share. Are you sure you want to tell me?”

“Anyone entrusted with Schnee Raizar’s weapons—someone known across the whole continent—couldn’t possibly be a villain.”

“Well, I’m not about to tell anyone, and I’ve no intention of exploiting it.”

Her answer reminded Shin yet again how absolute the continent’s trust in Schnee was.

“Being a Chosen One helps, but that sense is why I can judge the timing to quench and where to strike when forging. I’ve also been fortunate with my environment, with access to knowledge. But I carried anger—hatred—for the dragon that killed my father. That’s when I learned about the bane weapons.”

“Banes… the ‘killer’ class, huh? Dragon Killer’s especially famous, lots of documentation left on it after all.”

Weapons that deal increased damage to a specific race. If you know your target, they’re a viable choice.

Shin had forged and used them himself. The effect was real, and, against the right enemy, they granted a clear advantage. Some players swapped weapons by foe to control the flow of battle.

Even so, as a smith, his pursuit had been to craft “the strongest weapon I could conceive,” and he’d treated killer types as reference material rather than an end goal.

“I thought I’d finally begun making decent blades. Field tests were all against wyverns—low-rank dragon-likes—but compared to weapons of the same rank, the effect was far greater. If I strengthened the design, I believed I could someday hurt high-level dragons.”

Her voice sharpened as old hatred flared, but only for an instant. It soon fell quiet again.

“I set my sights on the ultimate Dragon Killer. I gathered every reference I could, scrutinized materials, tried every forging method I could find. And all I produced were prototypes with indeterminate effect. After the battle, when Lord Armaiz returned to his true form, I saw it—an illusion of my blade shattering, bouncing off his scales like a suit of armor.”

Even with her hatred for dragons, she held no ill will toward Armaiz, who had fought on the front lines to protect the island. Awkwardly, she continued.

“So your smith’s intuition told you the weapon’s limits, while your innate sense as a Dragnil—and your Chosen One perception—told you Armaiz’s strength.”

“Yes. It was only a vision, but I’m convinced reality would match it.”

After honing herself amid the Black Faction’s cutting-edge research, she spoke with certainty about a weapon’s condition.

Shin, too, could sense by feel when a blade wouldn’t survive contact with a foe of a certain tier. With 『True Moon』 still unrepaired, he swapped weapons to suit the opponent, but always chose ones he believed would hold.

“That vision is also part of why you’re afraid to let anyone use your work.”

“Yes. And it made me think… can I really forge a weapon that will slay that dragon?”

“When you say ‘that dragon,’ you mean the attacker.”

“A dragon I’d never seen: golden. A red horn jutted from its brow, and its scales were like armor. I can picture it perfectly even now.”

Shin remembered: Retoneka had been six at the time.

To a child, even a low-tier dragon exudes crushing pressure. Her father hadn’t been a warrior or soldier, so even if he’d been killed, the culprit wasn’t necessarily a high-tier monster.

But her description raised the possibility of a truly upper-class dragon. In Shin’s experience, lower tiers didn’t include golden variants.

“Could you draw it? I know monsters. There’s a chance I’ll recognize it.”

“—I have a sketch in my room. I drew it long ago so I’d never forget, with every detail I could recall.”

A spark returned to Retoneka’s eyes. Even sunk in gloom, she couldn’t be indifferent where her father’s killer was concerned.

“May I see it?”

“Of course.”

Like Shin, Retoneka had finished her restoration work for the day, so there was no need to worry about the time.

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