IDBGWT 7

Chapter : 07

Brave New World, Part 2

Ars hadn’t thought at all about the language barrier. The possibility never even crossed his mind.

It was truly his mistake.

If he had realized it sooner, he would have asked Saber or Leah if they knew any translation magic.

Without communication, he couldn’t handle even basic things.

Lost in thought, Ars barely noticed the two armed men in front of him shouting.

Their voices were sharp and urgent, but Ars couldn’t understand a single word.

The two seemed agitated. They were tense, ready to charge at any moment.

Ars didn’t know sign language, but he desperately tried to show that he meant no harm.

He pointed at himself, then at them, and then made a big “X” with both hands while shouting:

“I… MEAN… NO… HARM!”

For some reason, he had switched to English. He let out a small sigh, hoping it would calm them down.

But it had no effect.

If anything, the two seemed even angrier. They raised their weapons and rushed at Ars while shouting.

“You bastard! Did you think we’d let ourselves be killed quietly?!” one yelled in a language Ars couldn’t understand, swinging his sword.

Even without understanding the words, the anger on their faces needed no translation.

Ars drew his sword, met the blow head-on, and angled the blade to deflect the attack.

The sound of steel scraping steel rang out, and the swordsman’s stance wavered.

At that moment, from behind the first man and out of Ars’s sight, a spear was thrust toward his heart.

The timing seemed perfect—right after Ars deflected the sword.

But Ars didn’t hesitate.

He twisted his wrist and swung the hilt downward, knocking the spear’s tip away while stepping forward.

The spear just grazed him and missed.

Before the swordsman could recover, Ars closed the distance, got inside his guard, and punched him square in the nose.

The dull impact rang out. The man’s grip loosened, the sword slipped from his hand, and he stumbled backward to the ground.

Ars didn’t stop.

He turned to the spearman, kicked near the spear’s shaft, and stomped near the tip.

The force twisted the weapon violently, and the spear flew from the man’s hands.

“Wha――?!”

Before the man could even understand what happened, Ars was already in front of him.

A sharp uppercut lifted his jaw.

The man slammed to the ground on his back, the air forced from his lungs.

Both men lay on the ground, unconscious.

Ars was stronger than normal, but he still didn’t know how well he would fare in this world.

At least these two could be subdued without much trouble.

It all ended so quickly that even Ars was a little surprised.

He hadn’t planned to fight. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone.

But they had charged with clear intent to kill.

The movements aiming for vital points made that obvious.

Against strangers trying to kill you immediately, there’s no guilt in knocking them out.

Ars moved quickly, throwing their weapons far away.

Then he took a rope from his backpack and tied their hands and feet to a tree.

He left one hand free for each, then forced that hand to their mouth, bit the rope between their teeth, and tied it tightly to act as a gag.

They couldn’t yell now, but could still barely speak.

Of course, he didn’t understand a single word.

Still, that might be enough. When they shouted earlier, he had felt something react inside him.

The new ability granted by the Golden Fruit had responded to their words instinctively.

That ability was called Perfect Replication.

It allowed him to replicate almost anything, though at a cost.

Every replication consumed mana.

The more complex the target, the more mana required, but the more he understood it, the less it would cost.

With this ability, he could learn their language.

But he needed them to speak first.

Ars began examining their bodies and belongings. He knew nothing about this world.

They might have magic, or hidden artifacts or explosives. He couldn’t be careless.

After all, they had tried to kill him.

Training with Saber was different. She had fought as if to kill, but it was still training—he knew she wouldn’t take a life.

This was reality.

They had aimed straight for the throat and heart.

Without Saber’s training, he might have frozen the moment they attacked.

After a thorough check, they didn’t carry much. Some colored stones like those taken from goblins, coins, and two bandanas in a bag.

The coins might be the world’s currency. There was also a water flask and dried meat.

Seeing the bandanas, Ars paused.

Were they typical thieves?

In many RPGs, thieves were as common as monsters.

Bandanas were the simplest way to identify them.

Sometimes handing them over to a guild or knight could earn a reward.

Prejudice or not, their appearance and behavior fit the role.

They had come to kill without hesitation.

Who comes deep into a jungle like this?

If they were thieves, it would be easy to set up a hideout and ambush travelers on nearby roads.

If so, there could be more of them nearby.

Staying here was dangerous.

Fortunately, Ars had dragged them away from the road before tying them.

But they might not be ordinary thieves.

They could be adventurers like RPG rogues, or something else.

The fact remained: they had tried to kill him.

He couldn’t just wait for them to wake naturally.

Ars opened the water flask, poured water on the swordsman’s face, and lightly slapped him.

It was better to wake them one at a time.

With pained groans, the swordsman slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a blurry white shape—long white hair like a mane swaying in the wind.

His thoughts were clouded, but as his vision cleared, he saw Ars standing before him.

Then his memory returned.

He had been fighting this man.

Fear ran across his face. He tried to move, but his body was tied.

The ropes were tight.

As he struggled, he noticed his companion tied up in the same way.

He thrashed desperately, but the ropes wouldn’t come undone. Gradually, his resistance weakened, and a low, pleading sound escaped through the gag.

Ars silently watched for a while, then approached.

“Why did you try to kill me? Are you thieves?”

But to the swordsman, it sounded like a meaningless jumble of noises.

“P-please… don’t kill me!”

The muffled voice barely carried meaning in his own language.

To Ars, it was just noise.

The language barrier was two-way. In this situation, the captured side suffered the most.

No negotiation was possible. No proper pleas for life.

A man with a sword stood right in front of them.

Silence wasn’t an option.

The man pleaded desperately with his voice and expression, pretending to cry if necessary.

Ars pointed at him, freezing him in place.

He slowly pointed at his own mouth and made an opening-and-closing gesture.

It was a signal to speak.

He began to sense the patterns in the sounds. His ability responded slightly.

The man understood and began begging again.

Ars imitated the sounds exactly.

The man’s eyes widened.

Ars shook his head and waved his finger.

For a moment, it seemed like refusal.

But then he gestured to speak again.

Continue.

Now he understood. It didn’t mean to repeat the same words, but to keep speaking.

Confused, he obeyed.

His mouth was gagged, so he couldn’t speak clearly.

If it weren’t, he would have shouted.

Knowing it wouldn’t be understood, he began hurling curses through tears.

Eventually, the other man woke up and frowned at the insults.

Ars explained the situation and made the same gestures.

Both kept talking.

Time passed—about an hour.

Their throats hurt. It was humiliating and exhausting.

But Ars kept listening.

“How long do you intend to make me do this, bastard?”
“The moment my hands are free, I’ll crush your head.”
“Do you think the others will come?”
“If we last a few more hours, the boss and the others should pass.”
“Then I’ll kill them.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Ars said suddenly.

The two jumped.

“W-what?!”
“You… understand language?!”
“Then why did you pretend not to understand?”

Ars had completely replicated the language with Perfect Replication. It had taken an hour—the first use was difficult.

He would shorten the process with practice.

But now wasn’t the time.

If the bosses came, he needed to hurry.

“I have amnesia. But thanks to you, I can speak now. Isn’t that good?”

The two were confused.

“R-really?”
“The misunderstanding is cleared. Won’t you let it go?”
“Misunderstanding? About trying to kill me?”
“N-no!”

Ars silently lightly struck them until they cooperated.

The Northern Gray Forest. A dangerous forest named for Gray Wolves.

Thirty minutes east was a village.

The tower was Babel Tower, in the dungeon city Orario, where powerful familias and adventurers gathered.

“Dungeon city? Are there really dungeons? What’s a familia?”

Raising his sword, the two desperately explained.

Gods descended from the sky, creating familias.

They gave Falna, a blessing that allowed growth and leveling up.

Magic existed but was rare.

Ars decided: he would go to Orario.

Another thirty minutes, they explained the city’s layout and dangers.

He lightly swung his sword.

“How do we deal with thieves? Kill them?”

The two froze.

Half-joking, but no need for them to know.

“Don’t kill us!”

He was certain from their reaction.

Capturing alive was more rewarding.

Their gang had recently kidnapped villagers and raided a slave caravan.

They would soon pass this road to sell their captives.

Anger burned in his chest.

But he remained calm.

He untied the two from the tree, keeping their hands and feet bound, tying them back-to-back.

He loosely tied a rope around their necks.

He removed leg bindings, re-tied their hands, and restored the gags.

He made them guide him while holding his sword.

Twenty minutes later, the forest thinned, and houses appeared.

They had reached civilization.

A large caravan moved along the forest road a little way off.

About thirty-five people.

This was the gang Ars had heard about.

But no bandanas or rough clothes.

“Boss, sneaking into the caravan was a good idea.”
“We even got a merchant’s permit!”
“Can we use it again?”
“Fool! It’s a real merchant’s permit. Just to avoid being attacked on patrols.”

Sarcasm.

“A real merchant…”
“Who said that just now?”

The commotion settled.

“Lucky we caught a caravan full of slaves.”
“Renard is here too.”
“Boss, can I have fun with that girl?”

Inside the cage, a small, curvy girl.

Blonde hair, fox ears and tail, green eyes.

Wearing a kimono, trembling.

Many girls had vacant eyes.

The boss struck them.

“Don’t touch! The purer they are, the higher the price!
Ishtar Familia is looking for them.
Return to your posts!”

The man stepped back.

The caravan kept moving, and the boss continued watching the cage.