Early DAR Vol. 5 Chapter 16 Part 7

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 any case! A simultaneous attack is pointless! To me, only the brat matters. If there’s any danger of him being harmed, I’ll abandon the rest of you and protect him. It’s meaningless otherwise‼>

“…That’s harsh…”

Dietrich muttered under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. They all knew they were little more than extras in Uncle Gry’s eyes. For now, it was enough that the twins had protected them.

<Now then, pay for the crime of attacking me with your life.>

The atmosphere shifted in that instant.

It grew heavy, viscous.

A crushing weight pressed down on their bodies, as though they had sunk to the depths of the sea.

“Uncle Gry, is this…?”

Roa, too, felt the oppressive weight. Bernhart’s face twisted into a grimace, and Cornelia nearly dropped her war hammer. Kristoff looked uneasy, unable to rely on his detection magic, while only Dietrich still wore a grin; an obvious attempt to mask his unease.

<It’s the fortress’s function. The disruption has been expanded to all magic, not just detection. Our spells are weakened, and our movements impaired. This only affects us; it’s the trap in its true form. The enemy can fight at full strength, so stay sharp.>

“No way…”

<Relax. This is nothing more than the effect of a relic, an antique!>

A moment later, the gryphon overhead convulsed. Its skin split open, spraying blood.

<See? My magic works just fine. It won’t hinder me from delivering punishment‼>

Uncle Gry’s lips curled into a savage grin.

“Kristoff! Forget detection, rely on sight, and focus on defense! Bernhart, can you test what spells will still work?”

“Yeah!”

“It’ll drain some mana, but I can manage.”

“I’ll switch from hammer to sword. I won’t be able to use my shield properly either. No way I can serve as the front line without body reinforcement.”

“Understood!”

While Uncle Gry reveled above, Nostalgia quickly reorganized their formation. Dealing with the gryphon—and Roa’s safety—could be left to Uncle Gry. They had no time to waste.

The moment of hesitation ended almost instantly. At Dietrich’s shout, the others made quick, precise decisions. In life-or-death situations, their instincts as adventurers took over.

With weakened spells and dulled movements, their usual tactics were useless. Kristoff’s detection and Bernhart’s magic were compromised. Cornelia couldn’t act as a shield without reinforcement. Yet they still had to survive against whatever magic beasts appeared next.

Uncle Gry had noticed all this beforehand but hadn’t bothered to warn them, choosing instead to bask smugly in his own understanding. Complaining would achieve nothing now. Their faces hardened as they steeled themselves.

“Waf!”

“Waf!”

The twins barked, tails wagging, front paws waving encouragingly.

“Yeah, saying you’ll protect us is nice, but…”

“Baw!”

“Baww?”

“…Telling the weaklings to shut up? That’s brutal. Don’t talk like that scheming gryphon…”

“Waf!”

“Waf!”

“…Sorry, shouldn’t have compared you to him.”

“How is that even a conversation…?”

Cornelia sighed, watching Dietrich casually banter with the twin magic wolves. Even in this dire moment, the lack of tension was absurd.

“Who knows? Friendship, maybe?”

Dietrich shrugged, though he clearly didn’t understand why it worked either.

“Cornelia, don’t waste time humoring our idiot leader. At least he broke the tension.”

“You’re right.”

Kristoff’s wry comment earned her reluctant agreement. She resumed preparing her weapons.

The gryphon attacking them remained bound by Uncle Gry’s power, torn apart mercilessly. The others could appear at any moment. They needed to be ready.

Overhead, blood rained down. But Uncle Gry’s wards dispersed the crimson spray before it touched Roa or anyone else.

<Fufufufu… Don’t think I’ll let you die easily.>

Completely lost in his sadism, Uncle Gry tore into the gryphon. Roa buried his head in his hands. He felt no sympathy for the creature—it had come to kill them—but the spectacle was grim nonetheless. Bound and flayed, it still lived, eyes dull with despair.

<Brat, how much magic can you use right now?>

The sudden question startled him.

Despite the cruel smile aimed at the gryphon, Uncle Gry turned to Roa with uncharacteristic gentleness. His green eyes, burning with malice a moment ago, softened.

“Eh? Magic?”

<Yes. Try it.>

Still unsure of Uncle Gry’s intent, Roa reluctantly obeyed. He conjured a small flame, the simple fire spell he often used when brewing potions.

The fireball danced above his palm, as steady as ever.

<As I thought, the interference barely affects you. Your magic formulas lack flair, but they’re steady, unshakable, solid to a fault. Your control is refined. This kind of disruption is meaningless to you.>

“…?”

Roa didn’t understand why Uncle Gry was saying this now.

“…Come to think of it, this might be the first time Uncle Gry’s ever praised my magic…”

He realized it in that instant. Until now, praise had never once come from him. Then again, he’d only recently gained the ability to hear Uncle Gry’s words at all.

<I don’t waste time praising you, brat, you’d just deny it anyway.>

His tricks, jabs, and constant harassment apparently didn’t count as “wasted effort.” Roa frowned, unamused at the contradiction.

“Then why now…?”

<Because in a place where the others’ magic fails, your success builds confidence. You never believe in yourself unless confronted with undeniable proof.>

“…That means…”

<It’s nothing more than small talk. Don’t think too deeply. I’m not about to claim you’re better at magic than swordplay. You’ll just argue that the mana you wield is borrowed from me through our contract. Do as you please.>

With that, Uncle Gry broke eye contact. His body crackled with lightning. Blinding light exploded outward, forcing Roa to shield his eyes.

“Uncle Gry!!?”

Before Roa could grasp what was happening, the sharp report of an explosion filled the air.

<Tch. Only two took the bait. I thought they’d all come at once. Seems they’ve learned a little.>

“Uncle Gry!”

<It’s nothing. I tortured one chick to lure them. Those fledglings always stuck together; they couldn’t resist coming to its aid.>

As the light faded, Roa’s vision cleared.

The first thing he saw was thick green vines that hadn’t been there before, writhing toward them.

Uncle Gry incinerated them with bolts of lightning, the twins gleefully freezing and burning others aside, treating it like a game as they defended Nostalgia.

Then came the next assault: countless ice lances falling from the hole above. They were identical to the ones from the previous night.

<The first used earth magic, the second plants, and this barrage of ice is the same chick from last night. That leaves shadow… and one more, fire, if I recall. The fire-breather hasn’t shown itself yet. It was the most capable of the lot. Perhaps it’s waiting for the right moment to strike?>

Uncle Gry’s tone softened briefly, almost nostalgic, but his merciless actions belied it. A mere ripple of wind shattered the entire barrage of ice spears.

He had been waiting. Chatting idly with Roa, feigning distraction, all to bait them. By wounding the earth-user alongside the Magic Statue earlier, he’d provoked the others into breaking cover.

If they hadn’t rushed in, they would have ambushed from hiding. But seeing their comrade tortured drove them to strike prematurely.

It was arrogance, pure and simple. Confidence that he could crush them all regardless of numbers.

<Twins! I’ll deal with the attackers. Two remain. Whether they come for me or you, stay alert!>

“Baw!”

“Baw!”

Still tearing through vines, the twins waved a paw back, unruffled.

Nostalgia’s members huddled close, tense but safe under their protection.

<Let’s go, brat.>

“Eh? Me too?”

Roa suddenly lifted off the ground. Uncle Gry’s wind magic bore him aloft.

He shot Dietrich an uneasy glance.

<Of course. Even against several foes, staying by my side is safest.>

Dietrich met Roa’s eyes and gave him a firm nod, smiling.

Feeling as though he had been told, Go on, Roa steeled his resolve, biting his lip as he looked up toward the gryphons above.

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