Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [1] & Synopsis

At the end of the twentieth century, Hebe Stanton opened her eyes to a world that was both familiar and strange. The Twelve Consuls, the Seven Great Principles, countless Paths… History blazed like an inferno, and the past could no longer be traced.

So Hebe stepped into it and dragged every stray thread of history back onto its proper course.

In Albion, she was the court’s sage. She witnessed the Red Dragon and Lionheart contend for the throne, and saw the blood of Pendragon and Victoria congeal beneath the Sword in the Stone.

In Egypt, she was the Scribe of Heaven. She witnessed the divine king who ruled the vast red sea of sand reach for the forbidden. Across the desert ruins echoed Ozymandias’s wild proclamations.

In the Eastern Lands, she walked alongside dragons. She once taught the general and retired emperor who were twin souls in one body, and later sparked change at the end of the shogunate.

In Atlantis, she granted a pure-water spirit’s wish to become human; in Shangri-La Gashadokuro, she discussed the meaning of wisdom and asceticism with the Enlightened King.

Relying on her own undying will (cheat power), Hebe saved others again and again. Only when she looked back did she realize that those who followed her had become as numerous as the sands of the sea.

But before all that, there was still one tiny problem.

“You’re not all going to remember what happened in those Lostbelts, are you?” Hebe broke out in a cold sweat.

A chill wind swept past the church spire at Alfie Square.

Rare sunlight broke through the clouds over Albion and spilled across one corner of London.

Located on Church Street, Alfie Square was a well-known antiques market across London.

It was only seven in the morning, yet people were already coming and going through Alfie Square, and many of the secondhand shops had opened their doors to greet a new day and new customers.

On one street corner sat a somewhat cramped little shop with a sign out front that read “Lilies Secondhand Goods.”

Yawning, the young shopkeeper stepped outside. Her flaxen hair was a little wild, with one stubborn cowlick sticking up in defiance.

She was wearing a loose plaid shirt and baggy trousers, and padded over in fluffy slippers to flip the hanging sign to “Open.”

Then she took an elastic band from her pocket and, with practiced ease, tied her hair back into a ponytail.

“It’s been over a year already…” A trace of wistfulness flickered through Hebe’s deep green eyes. “And by now, I’ve completely gotten used to this new body.”

Hebe Stanton was someone who had crossed over from another world.

She had come from the twenty-first century of another world. A little over a year ago, she had a bizarre dream, and when she woke up, she had already taken the place of her counterpart in this world.

Hebe had spent a great deal of time adjusting to her new body, but what shocked her even more—or perhaps left her speechless, rather—was this new world, both familiar and strange.

Take Albion, this “otherworld Britain,” for example. It still had a king and a parliament, but the ruler on the throne was not that old lady who looked like she’d reign forever, and the family name was Pendragon, no less.

Oh, right. The previous king seemed to have had the surname Victoria…

If that slapdash arrangement of two kings taking turns ruling had merely made her think Albion was screwed, then seeing the Red Dragon King of House Pendragon on television left Hebe marveling at just how completely off its rocker this world was.

Who knew what kind of creator with a twisted sense of humor had mashed so many different settings together into this patchwork world… God only knew how hard it had been for her to keep a straight face when she found out the woman running the small-appliance repair shop next door was named Precis.

And that was not all. Many relics that should already have been unearthed were still buried, and many historical ruins that should have been discovered remained lost.

There were simply too many things like that. History, which ought to have been clear, seemed buried beneath layer upon layer of fog.

As a former archaeologist, Hebe found all of this deeply fascinating. Unfortunately, fascination alone was no substitute for money. She still had not managed to save up enough startup capital… If she had not inherited the secondhand shop from her counterpart’s family, she might already have been forced to go to the welfare office and apply for basic assistance.

And there was no guarantee she would even have qualified.

In short, no matter how much Hebe missed the past or hoped for the future, at present she was nothing more than an ordinary secondhand shop owner.

By the time noon drew near, the number of pedestrians on the street had begun to thin.

Hebe clicked her tongue. It looked like yet another day without any business.

“All right… game time.”

She sat down behind the counter and turned on the computer.

The desktop wallpaper was a dark green field with a few faint winding lines across it, like a minimalist map.

Hebe moved the mouse and clicked the game icon.

The screen went black, then slowly brightened again into that dark green display.

A line of text appeared in the center.

[Welcome to the Secret Histories Simulator, guest “Knower”.]

[Current Lostbelt: 1455 — War of the Roses]
[Progress Rate: 90%]

[The Red Dragon and the Lion contend for the kingship of Albion.]
[The Sword in the Stone has been stained by the noble blood of two roses.]
[What future lies ahead for this kingdom?]

[Make your choice.]
[God save the King. May the King save us.]

…

When Hebe opened her eyes again, she was standing in the shadows behind the curtains. The layers of drapery in Buckingham Palace kept the courtiers from looking directly at the throne, creating an intangible kind of majesty.

There was, however, one exception. A certain class of people was permitted to stand directly beside the throne.

That was the court mage—or, to use the proper title, the sage.

“Hah… hah… hah—” The sound that came from the throne was old and ragged, like a broken bellows.

Hebe turned and met those golden-green eyes.

“Y-you’ve come back.”

The monarch on the throne spoke between breaths. To her, the crown was no longer a symbol of glory, but an unbearably heavy burden.

“You truly have grown old, my king,” Hebe replied calmly. “When I first met you, you were only a country girl… I once tried to persuade you not to draw that sword.”

“You remember it well indeed.” The gaunt King Arthur said, “But neither of us had any other choice… Sometimes I envy your freedom. Not even time can destroy your youth. Every time we meet, that face of yours makes me jealous.”

Hebe had to admit that was true enough. After all, she was only a “player,” not someone who truly lived here.

“At least your achievements were glorious enough, were they not?”

The curtains stirred softly, and Hebe’s voice echoed through Buckingham Palace’s great hall.

“Yes. I drove back Rome, overcame natural disasters, famine, and plague, and forged Albion into a millennial kingdom overflowing with glory… Who does not praise the name of Arthur?”

King Arthur closed her eyes. Countless metal tubes were connected to her body, binding her tightly to the throne. This was how she had ruled the kingdom for centuries.

A long silence settled over the hall. Hebe turned to look. The skin-and-bones girl sat upon the metal seat; more than a king, she looked like a prisoner.

“Merlin.”

King Arthur’s chest rose and fell as she called Hebe’s name in a hoarse voice.

“I am here.”

Clad in the robes of the court mage, Hebe bowed slightly, her white hair falling smoothly at her sides.

“Is my elder sister still in the Tower of London?”

Hebe froze.

Clearing this Lostbelt was done in stages. Each time she completed one of the so-called “great deed” objectives, it would automatically jump to the next phase.

As for what happened in between, she had no way to interfere.

If the “great deed” objective was not completed, then once the game ended it would automatically return her to this phase and begin again—and the same would happen if the “Merlin” Hebe was playing died midway through.

“You mean Morgan?” Hebe asked carefully.

“Hah… Who else would be worthy of being called my elder sister?”

King Arthur’s golden-green eyes fixed on Hebe.

Under the monarch’s gaze, the girl with the beautiful white hair straightened. A silver-white court mage’s robe wrapped around her youthful body, the hem only just covering her knees. Her calves, swathed in strips of cloth, were held straight together, and her small, slender feet rested on the palace floor.

The king looked at Hebe with sorrow in her eyes, until those deep green, gemlike eyes met her own.

A hint of heat entered King Arthur’s gaze. Hebe’s feet, still pressed together, rubbed lightly against each other.

“We should let her out,” King Arthur said listlessly. “How lonely this feast would be without her.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against the metal armrest. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, but calm and beyond question.

“Whether it is that mongrel of the Red Dragon line who inherited Mordred’s place, or the lion of House Victoria—they are all alike. If they want my crown, then let them come and take it themselves.”

The War of the Roses had reached its final act.

T/N: woah…… super old artoria… gilf…………

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!