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Chapter 173: Rumble in the dragon mountain (5)

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Author: Shizuku Original Source: Syosetu Word Count: 2323 characters
Translator: Nomad English Source: Re:Library Word Count: 1184 words
Editor(s): Robinxen

“What’s this supposed to be? What are you doing!”
“Aww man, she found us.”
“It’s your fault for taking so long to get ready.”

The armed men shrugged and joked amongst themselves, but that only incited the woman’s wrath even more.

“I asked, what are you doing here?!”
“We’re just making merry for the last time. That’s all.”
“Then why wasn’t I told! Did you think these wounds would hold everyone back?!”

That woman was also part of that dragonborn military unit, and everyone there knew how strong she was. But despite it all, they had left her in the dark about their final mission.

She was enraged at the thought of being left out, but no one would look her in the eye, choosing to look away awkwardly.

Only one of them moved closer to her.

She thought he would give her an apology, but contrary to her expectations, she heard a dull sound as his fist dug itself into her stomach.


The woman groaned in pain, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Dragonborn were superior, but only when compared to other species. Amongst themselves they all were on the same level. All the armed men left, heading to their doom, and without looking back at her once.


Through her fading consciousness, she forced herself to stretch her hand out, as if trying to grasp something, and the dragonborn who had punched her stopped and spoke in a low voice.

“Forgive me, Fan-Yen.”

That was the last time she would see her friends. By the time she woke up, the war was already over.

All of the dragonborn army had been exterminated, but they took a large chunk of Seperion’s army with them. After that, the dragonborn chief negotiated peace with Seperion, submitting to their rule, under the condition that the mountain where they lived could be governed independently.

Seperion agreed to those terms, as they did not want to face such terrifying foes again. But she no longer cared what happened.

She did not participate in the rebuilding efforts after the war, preferring to wallow in regret and sadness.

She had been ready to die in battle, she did not care if her heart was ripped out, skull caved in, or her corpse defiled in any other way. All she wanted was to lay down her life alongside her brethren.

But she had never expected she would share so many hardships with them, only to be left behind alone.

So alcohol became her escape. After all, drowning in alcohol was better than drowning in bitterness.

She still remembered what it was like to share a drink with her comrades, but even as she drank on a daily basis it never tasted the same as back then.

The only breaks she took from drinking were to go hunt monsters and earn the money to keep drinking, or to beat up adventurers who intruded in their territory, making sure the new generation who had not participated in the war knew how fearsome dragonborn were.

That was all she did, day in and day out, leading to a rather monotonous and empty life.

One day she spotted a group of adventurers, followed by a spider monster. Seeing that she could only shake her head in disapproval, and regardless of whether they did not know this was the dragonborn territory, or if they wanted to make a name for themselves like many others before, she went to kick them out as usual.


Next thing she knew, she was lying down on the ground.

It took her a moment to realize that the swordsman with black eyes and black hair had knocked her down.

She had never expected a single human to be able to accomplish that, when in the previous war they needed many people working together to defeat a single dragonborn.

All she could do was let out a confused whimper, and the swordsman replied while resting his sword on his shoulder.

“So, you think you can just throw your life away? Usually when someone comes at me, ready to die, it’s a bit scary. But you just look desperate, and not intimidating at all.”

His words felt like a sharp blade tearing through her heart. That was also when she realized how miserable she looked.

“I had no idea these areas were off-limits. We’ll turn around, so please let us go, there’s no need to hurt each other more.”

It felt a bit insulting for him to talk like they were both just as hurt, when there was not a single scratch on him while Fan-Yen lay on the ground. But that did not bother her.

Instead, she wanted to know more about this swordsman, the first one who had beaten her since the war. Her pride as a dragonborn compelled her to remember him. So she asked:

“Wait, tell me your name! I want to know.”

She forced herself to stand on wobbly feet, shouting that, not caring about how it made her look.


After he introduced himself, he retraced his steps back home together with his group.

“I won’t forget…I’ll never forget..!”

That reinvigorated her pride once more. Until…

“He…he’s dead?”

She lost everything again.

Around a decade had passed since their first encounter, and she began starting to come to terms with her past. So she began to wonder if there were other men as strong as him, and she asked one of the merchants passing through the mountain about that adventurer, only to hear he had already passed away.

When they met, he was still young and full of life, so he could not have passed away from old age. So either he had fallen in battle, or succumbed to illness, but the merchant did not know any of the details.

Unable to accept that response, she ran out of Longshan and headed to a nearby adventurers’ guild. That caused a huge uproar as it was rare to see a dragonborn outside of Longshan, but she did not care, all she wanted was answers from the receptionist, who only confirmed the merchant’s story.

Fan-Yen could not remember what happened after that. When she regained her senses, she was in her own home, so at least she had made it back, though that was of no importance to her.

Why did he have to die?
He was strong enough to defeat a dragonborn like me, why?
Why does everyone leave me behind?
Why is it never me?
I should’ve died back then.
Either with my brethren in war.
Or by the blade of that man in the mountain pass.

She would not allow herself to take her life though, that would be an end too disgraceful to go meet her comrades or that swordsman in the afterlife.

Unable to die, but neither feeling alive, she went back to spend her days with the company of alcohol.

The only question in her mind was how many times this would repeat, how many times she would need to feel so lonely in this world where everyone she admired left.


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