Spectre of the Sinner - Zetro Translation

POV: An Nguyễn, 1041 UTC+09:30, Mellanphalia Kingdom

“All clear. I repeat, all clear. All hostiles are neutralized.”

After declaring the end of the bloody ritual, I silently went around and “collected” the dropped magazines. At least I left them in a semi-corporeal state, allowing them to not be adversely affected by the chaotic melee that ensued as the ambush degenerated into a gore fest between the warring species.

“Still, it’s a fucking hassle to play the pretend game,” being extra careful to not let anyone overhear my grievances as I collected yet another empty magazine, “and to think that I have to keep this fucking charade for the foreseeable future even. If only those sons of bitches didn’t play with fire like that. Speaking of which, it seems that the intelligence folks have started to sniffle out my intentions, huh? How convenient.”

As I looked around, the familiar scene of post-battle cleanup diligently unfolded before my eyes: as the carriages rolled to the site of the battle, the wounded were provided first-aid, the dead were collected and stuffed onto some of the wagons, and the traumatized were “appointed” as escorts for the city-bound carts.

Feeling awkward for not having anything useful to do after collecting my mags, I took a not-too-hasty stroll toward the leader in search of a purpose. Aside from the just-arrived adjutant and her relative, a gravedigger-like man was conversing with her. Curious about the exchange, I hastened my steps toward the gathering, not forgetting to set [Burevestnik] to overwatch the area while yet another [Goblyn] skull was kicked away, not unlike a stereotypically bored American soldier.
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POV: An Nguyễn, 1901 UTC+09:30, Nebioso Wald, Mellanphalia Kingdom

“Fucking [Pompeo-Navarre], you piece of shit,” spatting away in utter disgust, I closed the interactive display, “I’ll give you some fucking props for having that kind of gall. Now, what should be the appropriate answer then?”

Silently breathing out an irritated sigh, I walked toward the gathering after finishing my “private business” while fixing my sullen mood. Circled by the corpse-ladened wagons, the mixed group of adventurers and knights were silently nibbling on their ration. Each group was seated according to their affiliation, so except for long-time acquaintances, most were content to socialize with their grouping, with barely anyone attempting to intermingle with each other. While I was stewing in my thoughts as I looked at the sadly flickering bonfires, the lady knight officer beckoned at me.

“Please come and take a seat here, Mister [An],” after she lightly tucked her strawberry blonde strands behind her ears, the knight leader gestured at the spot right opposite of her, “I would like to offer my gratitude…”

“Please save the gratitude after we finish this job, Mistress [von Wagner-Kukulins],” I politely interrupted her words as I lowered my arse onto the piece of log, “besides, while in my subjective opinion that today’s casualty ratio was favorable for us, the same cannot be said for the rest of this operation.”

While I let the gravity of my words sink in, I helped myself to some of the bread and cheese. Just as I was lightly roasting the piece of cheese over the bonfire, the adjutant knight, whose appearance was evocative of a serene librarian, twirled her braided locks a bit before posting her question.

“If I recall correctly, your stated nationality is the [Union of Democratic Socialist Republics]. Then would you mind sharing with us what exactly the political entity is, and why it’s named like that?”

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POV: Carolyn von Wagner-Kukulins, prima hora noctis, Nebioso Wald, Mellanphalia Kingdom

Seemingly amused by my adjutant’s inquiry, the foreigner let out a light chuckle before hastily composing himself, attracting curious gazes from the rest of the convoy. In what I could call a master-level display of theatrical skills, the man then put the slightly melted piece of cheese onto the bread portion and savored it a bit before meaningfully looking at us. The tension in the air was palpable, as only the gentle crackling of the fires and the distant howling of wild animals could be heard.

“[Union of Democratic Socialist Republics]. While one could be tempted to say that it’s an alliance of like-minded countries, we see ourselves as an international framework for multilateral cooperation in many fields. It was born as an initiative to help the surviving populations to rebuild and recover after the devastations of the [Great World War 3]…”

“Hold on for a moment,” a loud cry escaped my lips over a specific phrase, “Mister [An], could you please explain your [Third World War]? How did the world go through the world wars when in the history of this continent and its surrounding lands, past wars waged by countries were not given such monikers?”

Sporting a distant look not unlike that of an elder who was about to regale the tales of his past exploits, the man slightly leaned his back before lightly shaking his head. Seemingly made up his mind, the foreigner let out a deep exhale before recounting what could be called parts of the history of his homeland.

“I’ll be brief here, so to begin with, officially speaking, there are three world wars in the place I come from. The first ran for 4 years and killed a total of 22 million, the next one ran its course for 6 years, and up to 60 million were killed. And for the latest one,” ignoring our utterly flabbergasted reaction at the sheer scale of death and destruction of the first two iterations of world wars, the outlander took a quick nip before continuing, “it took us 9 years and roughly over 3 billion dead to end the war, in a sense. Even till now, we still have sporadic campaigns to settle the score in one way or another, so the final tally is creeping as of now.”

While Mister [An] slowly and tiredly shook his head after spelling out such mind-boggling numbers, the air turned suffocatingly awkward for the rest of us. I shuddered intensely at those enormous figures, as even during the [Great Stampede] that occurred over 200 years ago, the estimated number of the dead hovered between 40 million and 80 million at worst.

“And to give you guys a proper context about the scale of death and destruction caused by these world wars,” a wave of premonition flushed over our collective napes as the man continued his words, “at the time of the [First World War], the population was about 1.7 billion. At the onset of the [Second World War], there were some 2 billion people alive. And by the time of the [Great Third World War], we were counting about 9 billion living souls in total.”

A wave of groans was heaved from our mouths at the utterly astonishing figures, with many of us could only exchange unspoken glances. Yet another swirl of emotion arose in my bosom as his words brought to mind how little I, no, we knew about our world. At least I knew that my resolve to pave a pathway to end the menace that had been further steeled in my heart.

“In short, from your point of view, I’m a soldier affiliated with a foreign entity with a ridiculous name, so naturally, I’m suspicious as hell, right?”

Just before anyone could appropriately answer his one-sided question, the foreigner abruptly concluded the depressing story time by suddenly standing up and lightly stretching his arm. While we were still puzzled about his intention, the man wordlessly looked around before revealing his thought.

“I know it’s still too early to sing this song, yet today’s events must still be vividly in everyone’s mind,” with his right hand placed at his heart, the man continued to spin his empathetic words, “I’d like to offer this song to the absent friends. May their spirits lay in peace.”

“Oh, I bid farewell…”

That night, we all shed a tear for the departed as a melancholic ballad was sung, with its poignant lyrics telling the heart-wrenching tale of a shipwreck survivor who battled his guilt to live for the sake of his deceased friends and sailors.