Dawnblade (Fan-Translation)

As Gwayne charged toward the grotesque, monstrous creature, he felt no fear, no hesitation, not even nerves.
If anything, there was only a faint sense of disorientation, a lingering unreality about it all.

He still remembered the plane crash—the chaos, the fall, the certainty of death.
He still remembered the endless years spent suspended above this world, adrift and watching from the heavens.

He hadn’t fully adapted to the role of Gwayne Seawright—the legendary knight whose body he'd somehow inherited.
And yet, here he was: gripping a sword of ancient make, lunging at a creature that was neither demon nor undead, but something far worse.

Clang!

The impact rattled up the blade, wiping away every lingering thought.

Dodging a razor-sharp claw with instinctive speed, Gwayne twisted his body, letting the sword arc through the air in a shining sweep, aiming for the creature's shoulder.

As he struck, he forced the strength buried deep in this borrowed body into the blade.
The faint ember near the hilt flared alive, surging up the sword in a cascade of searing red light, the sheer heat distorting the very air.

Sensing real danger, the hulking beast twisted away with an unnerving agility that belied its massive size.
Gwayne's flaming blow missed by a hair's breadth.

That flash of excitement—the thrill of wielding real supernatural force—might have thrown off his rhythm, but only for a heartbeat.
He steadied himself, focused, and forced more power into the sword, feeling the old body's instincts sharpen.

The skills, the muscle memory of Gwayne Seawright, were still there, buried but accessible.
He didn't know if he could wield all the strength of the man he now embodied—but he had more than enough for this fight.

Across the hall, Ser Byron was locked in a grim struggle.
The veteran knight was skilled—one of the best in Seawright’s service—but he had already burned much of his strength fighting the invaders earlier.

Every strike he parried cost him precious endurance.

Rebecca, gathering her magic, hurled a blazing fireball from her staff, smashing into a shadowbolt midair in a thunderous explosion.
Panting, she saw Byron faltering and immediately turned to the soldiers guarding her.

"You three—help Ser Byron!" she barked.

One hesitated.
"But my lady, your safety—"

"I’ll be fine!" Rebecca snapped. "If Byron falls, we’re all dead!
That’s an order!"

The soldiers obeyed, rushing to Byron’s side to bolster his defense.

Meanwhile, Gwayne slipped deeper into the rhythm of combat.
The battle instincts of Seawright and the experience of his own strange existence merged within him.

He fought without fear, and gradually, the towering abomination faltered under his relentless assault.
The creature's body—writhing and oozing like living sludge—wasn’t invulnerable.
Steel and fire could still tear it apart.

He ducked under a sweeping claw, twisted low, and drove his sword deep into the monster's leg.
It roared—an awful, choking noise—and staggered.

Gwayne called out over the clash of battle:
"Attack their legs and lower body! Forget the chest—these things don’t have hearts!"

Seizing the moment, he circled behind the beast, plunging his sword into the hollow of its lower back.

"They're weakest at the spine!" he shouted.

Following his guidance, Byron rallied.
In a desperate move, he dove beneath the monster’s swing, sacrificing his shoulder guard to the claws—and struck upwards, impaling the creature through the abdomen.

Almost simultaneously, Gwayne’s own foe collapsed into a heap.

As he looked up toward the remaining caster-creature, Gwayne tensed to sprint—

—but before he could move, the beast let out a shrill shriek and crumpled.

Amber appeared behind it, spinning two poisoned steel daggers with a grin.
"Backstab! That’s my specialty!"

Rebecca lowered her staff, cheeks flushed from the strain of spellcasting.
She gasped for breath, then called out seriously:
"Ancestor, you said its lower back, not... the, uh, other place!"

Amber shrugged, twirling her daggers and hiding them somewhere unseen.
"Pfft. No sense of humor."

As the monsters died, their bodies rapidly decomposed—
The sludge dried, cracked, and peeled away, revealing twisted, blood-red skeletons, which soon crumbled to dust.

Gwayne stood over the remains of his fallen opponent, watching the process thoughtfully.

"So it was these things that overran Seawright territory..."

Hestia stepped closer, her voice curious.
"Ancestor, do you know what they are?"

Gwayne nodded.

"Let’s move first," he said. "There might be more nearby. Once we're in the hidden tunnels, I’ll explain."

The group pressed onward, entering the ancient secret passage.
It was built centuries ago—solid, enduring—and would provide them some safety.

After a time, Gwayne broke the silence.

"I fought these creatures before," he said.
"In fact, these monsters were our main enemy during the Second Pioneer Era."

"You mean after the fall of Gondor?" Rebecca asked eagerly, her eyes wide.

"Exactly," Gwayne said.
"You remember your lessons?"

Rebecca flushed slightly, like a student called on in class.
"Yes! Gondor was the great human empire at the heart of the continent. Even the elves of the Silver Dominion feared to oppose it. But then the Ether Sea stirred, causing the 'Dark Tide' disaster. It erupted in Gondor’s capital, and in less than a month—"

"Not quite a night," Gwayne corrected gently.
"The court magi fought hard. But yes, the empire fell, and with it, civilization itself."

Rebecca nodded quickly.
"After that, the survivors fled the ruined heartlands. Led by pioneers like you, they founded new kingdoms on the edges of the world—an era known as the Second Pioneer Age."

Gwayne smiled slightly.
"Good. You're paying attention. And you’ve heard, then, about the beasts spawned by the Dark Tide?"

Hestia's eyes widened.

"You mean—those monsters—?"

"Yes," Gwayne said grimly.
"They were born from the chaos. Once human, perhaps, or once something else—but the magic twisted them into nightmares. Even after the Ether Sea calmed, those abominations remained, haunting the ruins. The first decades of the Pioneer Era weren’t truly an age of expansion—they were an age of survival."

Rebecca’s expression grew solemn, her earlier excitement fading.

"And... after ten years, the monsters stopped coming?"

Gwayne chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair gently.

"No, silly girl. After ten years... Your ancestor was dead."

Rebecca: "..."