Kagyu BLADE & BASTARD: Warm Ash, Dusky dungeon Volume 1

1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-1-7183-9348-6
Verlag: J-Novel Club
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 250 Seiten

Reihe: BLADE & BASTARD

Deep in the unexplored reaches of the dungeon, a corpse is discovered-one that shouldn't exist. After Iarumas is resurrected, his memories of life before death are gone, and he spends his days delving into the dungeon to retrieve the bodies of dead adventurers. Can they be revived as well? Or will God reduce them to piles of ash on the altar? Either way, Iarumas collects his finder's fee. And though his skills earn him some grudging respect, he's also scorned for this cold, utilitarian attitude. The living keep their distance-Iarumas consorts primarily with the dead. That is, until he meets Garbage, a feral young swordswoman who's the sole survivor of a massacred party. With Garbage by his side, Iarumas ventures deeper, scouring the dungeon for clues to his past, avoiding monsters, traps, and the inevitability of a permanent ashen demise.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Kagyu, Kumo

Weitere Mitwirkende

So-Bin

McCann, Sean

Leseproben

The scent of ashes swirled through the air.

Murmur turned to prayer, prayer to incantation, and then, to command.

That word was not for the living. It was for the one who’d once been here, the one yet to be lost.

But what was he to pray for, exactly?

Hopes. Wishes. Attachment. Resentment. Duty. Obligation. Obsession. Desire.

Why do we live, and why do we die?

Those things are not known to the living. Nor even to the dead. Why would death bring enlightenment about the things we couldn’t understand in life?

And yet, in the silence, sometimes an answer is spoken. A voiceless cry. A wordless appeal. A scream, squeezed out from the soul.

But there are those for whom even that is not possible.

Their voices make no sound. Their words remain unformed. They haven’t even the strength to cry out.

Is it resignation? Acceptance? Or simple exhaustion?

Whatever it is, this young adventurer who’d fallen—

“Rodan...! You’ve gotta be kidding me?!”

—had turned to ash.

As they stood before the mound of ash crumbling on the altar, his companions, who had been looking on, cried out in anguish.

It was a scene that seemed out of place in the quiet temple, but was a daily occurrence here, even a horribly familiar one to Iarumas. He stood, back to the wall, arms crossed, watching as the adventurers grieved.

He’d seen this scene before, more times than he could remember. That was why Iarumas felt nothing as he strode forward with a powerful step, almost as if he were kicking off from the stone floor. Under his dark cloak, a black-lacquered stick made a rattling sound.

The black rod.

The adventurers noticed Iarumas not because he was there, but because of that sound.

“It’s too bad.”

Iarumas’s words were sincere—it a shame. But, this Rodan fellow’s luck had run out. He felt that from the bottom of his heart.

Eight eyes turned toward Iarumas as the four people gave him piercing stares. The harshness of it seemed to remind him of something he’d been forgetting, so he added, “About both of them.”

Parties traditionally consisted of six members. He didn’t know how it was elsewhere, but that was how Iarumas saw it, and how the people of this town did too. Yet, the number of adventurers in this stonework shrine—once you excluded Iarumas—was four.

It was unfortunate, rotten luck. Failing to resurrect two of their companions. There was no more to it than that.

“Now, as far as payment goes,” continued Iarumas, “the two I brought back here were carrying equipment and money—I’ll be taking half of it.”

“You’re going to talk about money ?!”

Iarumas felt that he had only stated the obvious, but one of the adventurers apparently felt otherwise. The brawny fighter grabbed Iarumas by the front of his clothes, squeezing as he tried to lift his slim body into the air.

It wasn’t causing Iarumas much damage, but he didn’t like the way it made breathing difficult.

“There’s no need to make such a fuss,” Iarumas said with exasperation, his voice hoarse. “They just turned to ash.” It wasn’t as though their souls had been lost. As far as he was concerned, he was speaking the unvarnished truth, even if it was no comfort to these people.

“You ass!!!”

But it seemed that his words hadn’t reached the fighter, who proceeded to take a swing at him. Iarumas absently traced the path of the man’s fist with his eyes, angling his head a little to the side, and...

“Stop that at once!”

The fist froze as a dignified voice echoed through the shrine. It wasn’t magic, but those words did have power behind them. The voice belonged to a woman. A young girl. One whose habit couldn’t hide her feminine beauty. Two long, thin ears poked through the silver hair that spilled out from beneath her wimple.

This was Aine—Sister Ainikki, an elf.

This girl, who worked as a servant of God in the temple, looked at each of the adventurers. “Isn’t death a sign that they lived a good life and were allowed to enter the City of God?”

Seeing the fighter’s face turn from red to blue, Iarumas thought she’d just poured fuel on the fire.

“You saying it’s that they died, then?! Huh?!”

“We must live well and die well,” said Aine. “That’s common sense, isn’t it? No one can change that.”

“He turned to ash! No...you people incinerated him! You botched the resurrection!!!”

“We did not fail!” Aine’s voice sounded hurt, but her tone wasn’t going to be persuasive. The fighter set down the scrawny priest and turned his fangs on the girl instead.

“Then why did they—?!”

“God is saying that they lived the best lives they could, and there is no need for them to come back!”

It was a good thing. Even now, as the fighter glared at Aine with a face twisted in rage, she believed in her words from the bottom of her heart. Her proud smile, peaceful and without a hint of malice, made even these dungeon-hardened adventurers hesitate for a moment.

Having taken this as a sign that they wanted to hear her preach the teachings, Aine’s eyes narrowed happily. “Of course, we are allowed to delay death...if, by living on, the deceased would be of greater value. Should you wish to resurrect the two of them, we must demonstrate the possibility that your companions will do even greater good. Otherwise, God won’t be convinced.”

In short, she was saying that this party needed to make a larger tithe. This would show God that, if the two adventurers were still alive, they could be of even greater value to the world. The higher price for their resurrection indicated that God had recognized the worth of these two adventurers’ lives. Why could their friends not be happy about that? Aine didn’t understand...

“Enough of your pious cant!” the fighter shouted angrily, spittle flying. He then decided to storm out of the temple’s shrine, tearing open the door and slamming it hard behind him.

Iarumas watched absently as Aine declared “Well, now!” with ears and eyebrows raised. He hadn’t really planned on intervening if the fighter decided to clobber the girl, nor would there have been any need for him to. But he was glad that the disturbance was over—he didn’t want to waste more time than necessary.

“Sorry ’bout that, Iarumas.”

Iarumas looked at the face of the dwarf who’d spoken to him. A fighter, of course. He was a member of the other fighter’s party.

This dwarf and Iarumas were acquaintances, having seen each other at the tavern occasionally, but they hadn’t talked much. Iarumas didn’t remember the dwarf’s name either. He only knew the name “Rodan” because the other fighter had shouted it, so he’d assumed it to be the fallen adventurer’s name. The only important details about a person were their level, class, and in the case of spellcasters, what spells they knew. That’s why Iarumas fell quiet for a moment, not sure how to address the dwarf.

Regardless, it seemed that whatever sentiment the dwarf had inferred from Iarumas’s silence was positive, because he started making excuses. “Our leader just lost two of his companions, so he’s agitated right now...not thinking clearly.”

“It’s fine. I’m not bothered.” It was true. None of this fazed Iarumas.

The frontline fighter had survived, while the mage Rodan, and one other—the party’s priest, perhaps—had died. They’d likely suffered a flanking attack that had messed up their formation, causing their back row to be killed. The party had then run off in the confusion, leaving their fallen companions behind. They’d had to ask Iarumas to retrieve the bodies, and then the resurrection had failed. The loss of members and money was going to make it hard for their party to recover—their exploration would be delayed considerably.

“I don’t blame him for losing his cool. But...progress has been slow for everyone lately,” said Iarumas. There was no need for the party to rush. They weren’t going to fall behind the others seeking to clear the dungeon.

Iarumas offered some words of condolence. The dwarf got very quiet. So, Iarumas continued: “Could...I ask you to pay me now?” This was important. But, at the same time, not absolutely vital. “If you can’t, it just means I won’t retrieve any of you the next time I find you. Nothing more.”

“Well, that would be a problem for us,” the stout dwarf said, wincing. He produced a bag of gold coins. “If you happen upon us down there, bring us back, would you?”

“Got it. If I find you, I will.” Iarumas took the gold without hesitating and stuffed it inside his cloak. The weighty coins felt so reliable. They could do a lot for him, after all.

“So long, then,” said the dwarf.

“Yeah.” Iarumas nodded. “Tell him not to let things get him down too much.”

The dwarf, who was leaving with the rest of his party, didn’t give any response to Iarumas. Instead, the door opened much more quietly than the last time, footsteps passed through it, and then it closed again.

Iarumas was left alone with...