Glossary
Hyakumankai wa Shinda Zako
Ink (インク)
A power that humans possess latently. it is accumulated through daily activities like eating and sleeping. Since it is consumed when performing Magic or Petitions, a practitioner is considered more elite the higher their “storage capacity” and “production rate” are.
Supernatural Ability (超能力 – Chōnōryoku)
Unique, innate abilities that cannot be taught or learned. They range from non-replicable phenomena like “Resurrection” to simple enhancements of physical stats. “Skills,” “Magic,” and “Petitions” are all attempts to pseudo-replicate these natural Supernatural Ability.
Skills (技巧 – Gikō)
Special abilities derived primarily from physical prowess. Unlike Supernatural Ability, these do not require special talent and can be acquired by anyone through repetitive practice and education.
Magic (魔術 – Majutsu)
A “technology” that produces an end result without needing to go through the natural physical process. However, to use it, one must perform an “Incantation”—a process of weaving Ink into specific words. By memorizing various incantations, an individual can use multiple types of magic.
Petitions (請願 – Seigan)
A method used to pseudo-replicate Supernatural Ability. One can use an ability by touching an “Object” in which a petition slumbers and calling its name. However, Petitions require compatibility; those without the proper aptitude cannot use the ability even if they know the object’s name.
This next page of the glossary expands on the social structure and ancient technologies of the world in Hyakumankai wa Shinda Zako.
Enchantment (Imbuing Art) (付与術 – Fuyujutsu)
- This is the art of imbuing specific objects with powers such as Skills, Magic, or Petitions.
- If the original owner of the ability gives their consent, the Granting Art allows that power to be stored within an object.
- This enables the stored power to be activated at any chosen timing.
Count (伯爵 – Hakushaku)
- The ruling class of the Continent.
- Following the death of the King of the Karzahari Kingdom—formerly a massive nation—a power struggle plunged the land into a chaotic era of rival warlords.
- Higher-ranking nobles like Dukes and Marquises were completely wiped out during this period.
- Consequently, those currently claiming the title of “Count” rule over various territories and carry themselves as if they were kings.
Adventurer Guild (冒険者ギルド)
- An organization that issues adventurer certifications and mediates work assignments.
- It is an independent force that does not submit to the Counts.
- Despite its independence, it maintains cooperative relationships with many of those in power.
Sigil Sanctum (刻印聖堂 – Kokuin Seidō)
- An organization that secures and manages many of the “Objects” where Petitions slumber.
- They view Petitions and their “Objects” as sacred and believe they should not be handled unconditionally by just anyone.
- They impose restrictions on acquiring Petitions and provide specific education for handling them.
- Over time, these teachings became doctrine, and the group evolved into a religious organization.
Furnace (炉 – Ro)
- Ancient relics, at least one of which is found in any location considered a “city” within a Count’s territory.
- They control various urban functions, such as water purification and the reinforcement of defensive walls.
- They are also used to operate massive gates and entrances that are far too heavy to be moved by human strength alone.
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[Era of Succession Year 2, Spring / 5]
Yo.
I’m a bandit.
Not a thief, not a highwayman—just a generic bandit. That’s me.
Well, who I actually am doesn’t really matter much. I’m just a bottom-tier bandit. Not worth giving a name for, and honestly, I don’t even have a reason to possess one. That’s just how it is.
Currently, my meaningless, worthless self is hiding in the bushes along the highway with a bunch of pleasant fellow bandits who hold about the same amount of value and meaning as I do.
The roadside is full of danger. Wolves or boars might jump out at any second. Heck, things far worse than that might come charging at you.
But most importantly, bandits like me are out here claiming territory, aiming for your toll money—or your life.
Since we’re a bunch of reckless bastards, we naturally don’t give a damn about anyone else’s life, either. If threatening them doesn’t work, we kill them. That’s the standard operating procedure.
My fellow scum were wearing their most villainous grins today, wondering what kind of “pigeon” would fly into our trap.
“We got a customer.”
“Who is it?”
“A woman.”
“A woman, huh?”
“But she’s just a brat.”
“A brat? Dammit.”
“Still a woman, though. Easy to sell for cash. Perfect.”
These guys can say the most bottom-of-the-barrel crap without even flinching. No order, no ethics. Just a bunch of unlovable pieces of sh*t perfectly adapted to this era. That’s what it means to be a bandit.
The “customer” our group was waiting for arrived—and was all alone!
As for the gender, the report was spot on: female. Her height was quite a bit shorter than mine currently is.
“Oi! Little missy over there! Hold it right there!”
Ignoring my silent observation, the others—realizing the prey was exactly what they wanted—jumped out. Then, one after another, they started spitting out those cliché, vulgar threats.
“Didn’t you know you gotta pay a transit tax around here?”
“Hehehe, you got a cute face, don’t ya?”
“Your weapon, your armor, your luggage… leave every single thing—”
Before the fourth man could finish his sentence, the girl swung the sword she was carrying with one arm.
To be precise, I only saw the moment she *started* to move.
The next second, the fourth man was sliced clean in half, as if he’d been struck by a giant kitchen knife falling from the sky.
“Eh?”
The other three were stunned. Before they could even react, they ended up just like the fourth guy—either cut in half or minced into pieces by that massive blade.
Me?
I’m hauling ass out of there, obviously. Anyone traveling alone in an era where order has completely collapsed is bound to be freakishly strong.
However, she must have sensed my intent to flee, because she turned her body and stance toward me.
There was still some distance between us, though.
If I’m lucky, I can make it—
…Or so I thought, right until something passed through my body.
An invisible, or to put it simply, a [Flying Slash]. I was sliced in half with terrifying precision. The fact that there wasn’t even any pain might have been a mercy.
The whole thing took maybe two seconds. Literally on a different level.
And so, I died!
Goodbye, life!
Yep, this is what you call a “A Mob’s Life.”
See? There’s no point in me having a name.
When a life can fly away and vanish more easily than kicking a pebble on the side of the road, names are meaningless.
I’ve lived this kind of crappy life over and over again.
I’ve stopped counting, but I’ve probably died a million times by now.
[Era of Succession Year 2, Spring / 6]
Yo.
It’s me, the guy whose life is dirt cheap.
Though to be fair, that applies to every bandit, not just me.
Seriously, the world is a total mess right now. The reason for all this chaos is that the massive empire that used to provide security and order took a tumble.
The high-and-mighty nobles who assassinated the King started raising armies everywhere, basically screaming, “I’m the next ruler!”
They fought over land and harvests, killing each other until the masterless soldiers became “brigands” and the displaced commoners became bandits. Whatever order once existed has vanished without a trace.
Nowadays, there are far more people living as bandits outside the cities than there are people living honest lives.
The cities that survived the fires of war have tightened their defenses and restricted entry. Because of that, the folks who couldn’t get citizenship—but still refuse to give up on living—have no choice but to become bandits themselves.
Humans die if they don’t eat.
The ones capable of killing each other for a single crust of bread became bandits. The ones who couldn’t adapt all died. That’s the only reason vice is overflowing everywhere.
The guys around me are just like that.
Their favorite “weapons” are wood-splitting axes, hoes, and kitchen knives.
Most likely, they came from some village and turned to crime. Apparently, I’m in the same boat. In my hand is a hoe. I was supposedly insisting that this was a weapon.
“Oi, a merchant is coming!”
“Guards?”
“None! This’ll be a breeze!”
“We doing this?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
“Me too.”
And so, it was decided.
A lone merchant. Quite the daredevil. Usually, nobody travels alone; they’d hire guards or something. Suspicious. Extremely suspicious. Is this perhaps…
“Leave your bags and beat it!”
“Or die right here!”
My fellow bandits jumped out with weapons drawn, barking threats. The merchant seemed to give a small smirk.
“What are you laughing a—”
The sound of hooves. Soon, cavalrymen came into view.
“I didn’t think the fish would bite this easily. You guys really don’t know how to be suspicious, do you?”
“Sh*t, everyone run! This guy’s a decoy!”
“You won’t make it in time.”
Just as the merchant said, we were all run through and killed by the spears of the charging cavalry.
Including me, of course.
bandits are a nuisance that disrupts order and closes off the roads between cities—a constant headache for many lords.
Sometimes, they spend the money, people, and time to do a “periodic cleaning” like this.
This was a rare case, but when you’ve died as many times as I have, you run into stuff like this.
As I felt my consciousness unraveling into the darkness, I looked at my death with a weirdly detached perspective.
[Era of Succession Year 2, Spring / 7]
“Hyuugh!”
I gasp for air as if I’ve suddenly remembered how to breathe.
Ah.
Yo.
I’m a bandit—not a thief or a highwayman, but some kind of bandit nonetheless.
Man, I died. A mob’s life really is like this, huh? You just die so easily.
If there’s one thing that makes me different from other bandits, it’s that my consciousness continues.
Even when I die, for some reason, I wake up again. Like waking from a dream or a long sleep.
My body belongs to a different person. I don’t know if my consciousness is possessing a living person or a corpse, or if some other power is at work.
It’s not like I’m just thrown in with zero info, though. I can read the memories of the body. Mind you, it’s rarely anything useful or profitable. bandits live such incredibly shallow lives. They have no solid sense of who they are. You could say there isn’t much difference between a wild beast and a bandit.
Let’s try digging through the memories of this current body… Okay, he was originally a criminal raiding villages, and he just kept building his “career” as a bandit during this war. All he wanted to do was steal. And all he ever did was… well, exactly that.
There are several guys around me in similar circumstances. Our base is a cave. You can’t really call it “living” there. The bandits here, much like my current body, are a gathering of criminals who were raiding all over the place—a makeshift pack that hasn’t even established a proper territory yet. A makeshift nest.
“By the way, what happened to that nearby village?”
“It’s about that time. Should we head out for a [Harvest] soon?”
“Hehehe.”
“Sounds good.”
And so, the whole gang reached the village that served as our hunting ground. Our ecology isn’t much different from the local wildlife. Once we know a place is a rich source of food, we raid it over and over—that’s one of the habits of a bandit. However, the village was strangely quiet.
“What gives? Is nobody here?”
We reached the center of the village, but not a single soul appeared.
“Did they abandon the village?”
“Even so, there’s gotta be something left in the houses. Let’s toss the place.”
Just as those words were finished, a door opened. Not just one. One after another, doors began to swing wide.
“What the…?”
Emerging from the open doors was a pack of bandits completely different from us.
“Did you losers really think this was just an ordinary village?”
Ah… I see. The village we used as a feeding ground became a ghost town while we were waiting for the “harvest,” and at some point, it became a den for these beasts.
And we, the stupid bandits, walked right into the trap.
“C-Crap! Oi, let’s break through!”
One of us drew his weapon and tried to take a stance. I followed suit, but everything was too late. Before we knew it, we were being beaten to death by the “incumbents.”
It’s not just knights protecting their land or heroes of justice and adventurers who kill bandits. Sometimes, you get killed by your own kind.
—
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