Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria Vol. 12 (light novel) (Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria (light novel)) Read online

  Copyright

  IS IT WRONG TO TRY TO PICK UP GIRLS IN A DUNGEON?

  ON THE SIDE: SWORD ORATORIA, Volume 12

  FUJINO OMORI

  Translation by Dale DeLucia

  Cover art by Kiyotaka Haimura

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  DUNGEON NI DEAI WO MOTOMERU NO WA MACHIGATTEIRUDAROUKA GAIDEN

  SWORD ORATORIA vol. 12

  Copyright © 2019 Fujino Omori

  Illustration copyright © 2019 Kiyotaka Haimura

  Original Character Design © Suzuhito Yasuda

  All rights reserved.

  Original Japanese edition published in 2019 by SB Creative Corp.

  This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative Corp., Tokyo, in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2020 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Đmori, Fujino, author. | Haimura, Kiyotaka, 1973– illustrator. | Yasuda, Suzuhito, designer.

  Title: Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? on the side: sword oratoria / story by Fujino Omori ; illustration by Kiyotaka Haimura ; original design by Suzuhito Yasuda.

  Other titles: Danjon ni deai wo motomeru no wa machigatteirudarouka gaiden sword oratoria. English.

  Description: New York, NY : Yen On, 2016– | Series: Is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon? on the side: sword oratoria

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016023729 | ISBN 9780316315333 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316318167 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316318181 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316318228 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316442503 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316442527 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975302863 (v. 7 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975327798 (v. 8 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975327811 (v. 9 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975331719 (v. 10 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975331733 (v. 11 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975313272 (v. 12 : pbk.)

  Subjects: CYAC: Fantasy.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.O54 Isg 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016023729

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-1327-2 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-1328-9 (ebook)

  E3-20200703-JV-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Insert

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue: The Final Scene in Her Mind’s Eye

  Chapter 1: The Price of Defeat

  Chapter 2: An Evil Omen

  Chapter 3: Rabbit Oracle

  Chapter 4: Nameless Heroes

  Chapter 5: Final War

  Chapter 6: The Divine Providence of Despair

  Chapter 7: Final War II

  Chapter 8: A Heroes’ Chorus

  Epilogue: Raining Light

  Afterword

  Yen Newsletter

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  PROLOGUE

  THE FINAL SCENE IN HER MIND’S EYE

  She could see a crown of light—a ring of bright, scattered motes suspended in the air, woven together to create a white stairway ascending to the heavens.

  They had promised to see this together—which meant this had to be an illusion. Her battered consciousness should have already slipped away, but it showed her this fragile, transient, final hallucination reflected in her eyes. Though only a sliver of a dream, it was still so beautiful.

  Even if it was a trick of the eye, she had conviction that it was lovelier than anything she had ever seen.

  It was the Elf Ring in Lefiya’s home forest.

  She could hear a miserable voice. A ceaseless lamentation. A plaintive wail of regret and grief that reached the very heavens. A howl coming from that girl’s soul.

  She was inconsolable, knowing she was the one who’d made this girl cry. It broke her heart to have hurt her.

  No matter how much I want to, I can’t stop those tears from falling. It would be impossible to soothe that gaping wound that you will shoulder for as long as you continue to live.

  There’s so much I want to tell you. There is more I wanted you to know. But I know I’ll never get the chance.

  I won’t ever be able to talk to you again. I won’t ever be able to use this voice. I won’t ever be able to sing another song.

  Her body was disappearing, turning to dust. Her thoughts were losing their direction.

  Don’t cry. Keep moving.

  But in all my departing musings, I cannot bring myself to ask you to forget me. And that is my greatest weakness. My lingering attachments. My crazed thoughts.

  I know I don’t have any right, but I can’t help but ask—please begin to smile again…

  She could see relentless rain. Unfairly beautiful, a cruel purity, something more precious than anything else in the world. Those unbroken raindrops and tears that caught the light transformed into a tune that made her heart tremble.

  Straying from rhyme and reason, the last remnants of her consciousness were fading away.

  The scene before her drifted farther into the distance.

  She was starting to lose her grasp of the girl’s presence.

  Even her impure heart and body were shut away in an all-white space. She would forget everything.

  Which was why…Which was the only reason why she made one last request to that crown of light.

  If miracles exist, then all I ask is this. In exchange for my atonement, let me become fragments of light, pouring down on her shoulders, even after my body and spirit leave no trace in this world. For her, let me always—

  For the one like a flower that would wilt at the slightest touch, I want to—

  She offered up that final prayer to the heavens, the one place she had sworn never to look for aid again.

  CHAPTER 1

  THE PRICE OF DEFEAT

  Why did she have to die? That was all she could think about. That was all she kept asking herself.

  But there was no answer in her bleak thoughts, which had become desolate wasteland. There was no response, even when she pleaded with reason, which had frozen over, offering about as many answers as a wall of ice wo
uld.

  She was not filled with rage, nor was she filled with sadness. There was only white.

  Her head and heart were all white—snowy ash covered everything, making all boundaries disappear. Where did her emotions end? Where did her thoughts begin? What was pain? And what wasn’t?

  She could not understand. She could not move. She could not do anything. In that infinite field of white, memories buried under ash twinkled like jewels.

  “Then I will protect you. I won’t let you die—even if it’s only you.”

  Her weary heart tried to reject this scene—to stop it from replaying again.

  But it would not stop. Unbidden details flashed before her eyes: Her voice. Her gestures. The warmth of her body.

  “Once this is all done, we’ll go. I promise.”

  A broken promise. And finally, her smile.

  “…”

  A tear fell from her sapphire eye. Even though she had already wept until she thought she could weep no more, the tears didn’t stop.

  Even though she had howled in pain, her reservoir of tears hadn’t dried up.

  It was as though her body had become a fairy spring, burbling with water. Every time ripples swept across the deep-blue surface of the water, Lefiya was overcome with grief again.

  “ , .”

  She could feel someone standing in front of her, trying to say something. But Lefiya could not grasp these unspoken words. Her broken heart could not process anything.

  All she did was move her parched lips and whisper a single name.

  “Miss Filvis…”

  “Lefiya…”

  In a voice tinged with sorrow, Aiz called her name one more time. But there was no response. She continued to slouch over, weeping, crumpled on the floor like a doll with broken strings.

  They were in Lefiya’s room in Loki Familia ’s home.

  The elf girl silently sobbed in a room originally meant for two.

  In a word, she looked pitiful. There was nothing resembling an expression on her face, which had become locked in place as it dripped with rivulets of tears.

  Her parched lips barely opened, and from time to time, she whispered the name of her friend who was no longer there—like a faulty music box. She was almost an alabaster sculpture with an embedded soul, grief leaking out in immaterial tears.

  It had been only five days since Aiz had emerged from her own room after questioning herself in deep isolation. But that was different from what was happening with Lefiya…for Aiz had retreated into herself based on her internal conflicts, while Lefiya had been broken from the outside. Her precious friend Filvis Challia had been taken away from her.

  “Lefiya! Lefiyaaa! I’m begging you to look at me…! Smile like you always do…!” tearfully pleaded Lefiya’s roommate, Elfie.

  Her eyes were puffy and raw from tears, and her voice was already raspy. Over the last few days, she had stuck close to Lefiya.

  Nothing Tiona or Tione had said worked. Even Riveria could not get through to her.

  Right now, there were only three people in the room. Since they couldn’t be by Lefiya’s side around the clock, they would drop in during their free moments, but no one could manage to return any spirit to her voice. They just didn’t know what to say to her in this situation.

  She had watched on as her friend’s neck snapped right in front of her eyes—devoured by monsters, slaughtered. For a girl with such a tender heart, it was too cruel a blow.

  But behind their concern, they knew she was broken. The first-tier adventurers had all calmly reached the same conclusion: Lefiya Viridis was beyond recovery.

  “Stand back up! Get vengeance!” These were words they could never, ever say.

  There was no way they could ignite that black fire and add kindling to it. Aiz knew what happened to those burned by that black flame, which was why she could not bring herself to shove the girl into that sea of hellfire.

  “Aiiiiz! Lefiya…won’t…!”

  “…”

  Elfie wailed as she clung to Aiz, burying her face in Aiz’s shoulder. And Aiz could do nothing but support her. Unwept, all she could do was embrace Elfie as she cried for the both of them.

  She averted her gaze, feeling incredibly powerless.

  Aiz softly reached out and gripped Lefiya’s hand, but the elf remained as empty as a broken doll.

  “Y-you guys…”

  Raul stood still, lost in thought. There was nothing he could do about the situation unfolding before his eyes.

  In the manor cafeteria, the members of Loki Familia were all silent, collectively mourning, as though they were attending a funeral. The cafeteria was usually full of cheer, but the hall had gone silent, as if the sound itself had been stolen away. It was uncanny, sending a shiver down Raul’s spine.

  “…Gh.” One of those present was Anakity, the cat person with black hair.

  Her expression said she despised the time off they’d been given. She would’ve much preferred devoting herself to some mindless task, giving her no time to dwell on her thoughts. Noticing the anguish on the face of his beautiful colleague, Raul started to say something, but the right words never came to him.

  He already knew what was bothering her: their flight from Knossos the other day. It was not that they had lost to or fallen for their enemy’s tricks. It was that the entire chessboard itself had been flipped on them .

  The path toward victory they had been following completely vanished from underneath them.

  It was an event that one of the strongest factions in the city, Loki Familia , had never experienced before. Out of desperation to stay alive, they had watched their friends die begging for help with outstretched hands—the poor members of Dionysus Familia .

  Because they had turned away to save themselves, an entire faction of more than eighty adventurers had been wiped out.

  “Y-you guys…”

  Raul was disappointed in himself for continuing to whimper the same thing. In the past, he had always been the one who’d made a fool of himself, and his friends in Loki Familia were the ones who called out to him, helping him back to his feet.

  In a way, Raul’s embarrassing behavior maintained the balance and harmony of those around him. This was his unique contribution, the unintentional charisma he brought to the group as a boring human. In every horrible situation, the sight of hapless little Raul Nord carrying on helped the rest of the familia loosen up and smile, knowing that everything would somehow work out for the best.

  He was embarrassed by his self-hatred and rage, the unease, the confusion, the fear of it all. But he had managed to overcome it, even though the effort caused his chest to hurt and made him want to tear off his own skin. Since it was just him who had fallen, Raul always managed to stand back up. He knew himself well. That was why he could grit his teeth, bear through it, and keep his head up.

  But right now…

  Raul didn’t have a game plan to address his friends whose heads remained bowed—because he had not been there to witness this himself. He had not been involved in their tragic choice to sacrifice others in order to live on.

  To secure a path of escape out of Knossos, Raul had moved to prop open the gates connected to the Dungeon with his team. All that he had done was immediately close the orichalcum door once his fleeing friends had made it out into the Dungeon…to stop the wave of green flesh closing in on them.

  He could not share their burden—much less erase it. He couldn’t inspire them like Finn and the others. Raul could only look pathetic as he cursed his own incompetence.

  “You bastards still wallowing?” snapped someone, annoyed, cutting through the funereal hush that hung over the room.

  When he snapped his neck around in surprise, Raul saw a single werewolf enter the hall.

  “B-Bete…”

  He must have come to get food. It was obvious that he didn’t expect any to be served, barreling through the cafeteria toward the kitchen where the ingredients were stored. He scoffed as he glanced at the
familia members, who trembled in surprise.

  Raul hurriedly followed him. “B-Bete, are you okay…?”

  Aren’t you depressed? Isn’t this hard to get over? Raul silently asked Bete, finding himself drawn to the werewolf out of an urge to cling to anything and everything in desperation. Raul might have hoped he would be able to do something with the strength of a first-tier adventurer.

  “Spit it out already! If there’s something you want to say, then say it to my face!”

  “Eep?!”

  Bete seemed the same as usual. He was violent and abrasive, as if nothing had changed. But in this moment, this crumb of normalcy was reassuring.

  “…If you haven’t finished pitying yourselves yet, then just keep wallowing some more.”

  “…What?”

  Which was why that last comment took Raul by surprise. Bete had not snorted or sneered, even though he was one to look down on and verbally assault anyone he deemed a weakling. In a way, he was overlooking their behavior, for now.

  “B-Bete, what happened…? Did you eat something weird…?”

  The werewolf hadn’t unleashed a torrent of scorn—or even an irate shout. This left Raul feeling like he’d run into a monster doing a handstand or something.

  As if he was beginning to get annoyed by Raul’s slack-jawed look, Bete clicked his tongue in irritation. “It’s the same for me. You need time to cool your head.”

  “What…?”

  “Go ahead and sputter gutless complaints until it’s time.”

  That was when Raul realized something: Bete had been a spectator, like him, securing one of the other passages into Knossos. He was frustrated remembering their defeat and escape, but he had still managed to get his emotions under control and move forward.

  “‘Until it’s time’…?” Raul repeated the words without meaning to.

  Finally, the werewolf snorted. “While you bastards are wallowing in your own misery, Finn’s crew is moving in your stead.”

  “Give me an update on the situation.”

  Bete had been right. In the executive office, Finn was poring over information with Riveria and Gareth, living up to the werewolf’s expectations, solemnly and resolutely.