WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 123

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How to Beat a Sword Master (2)

Master.

The word described someone who had built extraordinary skill in their field, a title given only to those whose authority was recognized by a great many people.

Of course, very few fields had a clearly defined standard for what "master" actually meant.

Most of the time, the line was drawn only fuzzily, through the subjective, qualitative judgment of many different people.

Which was why some of those called masters still ended up subject to whispers of doubt: was that person really worthy of the title?

Of course...

'The sword is an exception.'

Yes. The sword was the exception.

Whether it was a brilliant swordsman who'd devoted decades to the blade, or an ordinary farmer who'd spent a lifetime working the fields, neither would struggle to tell a Sword Master apart from someone who wasn't.

Aura Sword.

How could anyone place a person who'd swung that radiant light onto a blade on the same level as an ordinary swordsman?

"Whew."

Brett Lloyd let out a sigh.

Being able to draw such an objective line between ranks meant the gap between Master and Expert was that much wider.

Airen Farreira had to know that too.

And yet, watching him sit there with a serious face, asking for a way to close that gap, made something in Brett's chest feel tight and stifled.

"Still, it's not like there's zero chance, is it?"

"..."

"From what I know, there have been cases where a swordsman who reached the very peak of Expert managed to beat a Sword Master."

"...That's true."

Brett nodded.

Kubharu's words were accurate.

Across the long history of swordsmanship, there had been the occasional Expert's rebellion.

But if it was still being talked about after all this time, that alone told you how rare it was.

A miracle of a probability, and nothing less.

Of course, Airen wasn't paying any of that any mind right now.

'He said it's not about can or can't. It's about whether he does it or doesn't.'

Having thought that far, Brett answered Kubharu's question seriously, though clearly reluctant to.

"For an Expert to hold their own against a Sword Master, three conditions are needed. First, a legendary blade capable of withstanding an Aura Sword."

That was the truth of it.

Merely excellent wasn't enough.

It had to be a blade impressive enough to be mentioned in history or myth.

Only then could it survive the Aura Sword's brutal cutting power.

You had to be able to clash blades at all before you could do anything else.

'At the very least, something made by the finest blacksmith alive, Vulcanus...'

Anything less, and the sword would snap like a dry reed on the first strike.

Of course, the current situation was a little different.

Brett studied Airen for a moment, then spoke.

"Your sword."

"The Sorcery sword?"

"Yeah, that Sorcery sword. How tough is it, really? Be honest with me. I know it's a good blade, but if it can't stand up to an Aura Sword..."

"It'll probably be fine."

"Hm?"

"No, really, it's fine. Losing my grip on it might be a problem, but this blade snapping? That's not happening."

Airen nodded as he spoke.

If it had been some time ago, he wasn't so sure.

Back when he'd had the blacksmiths of Derinku maintain the blade, he wouldn't have had this kind of confidence.

But right now, Airen was overflowing with it.

That was just how it was. He might not be sure of himself, but when it came to his sword, the confidence was bottomless.

'...So he wasn't completely thoughtless after all.'

Brett felt it too.

The tightness in his chest eased, just a little.

Right, unless your skill was good enough to dodge every single strike the opponent threw, a real match meant the blades would clash sooner or later.

And in that kind of fight, an Aura Sword was basically invincible.

If Airen could free himself from that brutal cutting power, the other two conditions would be relatively easier to meet, or so Brett thought.

Easier compared to the first, anyway. The rest were still brutal on their own.

He opened his mouth again.

"Second condition, a signature technique. Something sharp and unpredictable enough that even a Sword Master, someone who's reached the summit of swordsmanship, would be caught off guard."

A Sword Master was the sum total of experience and talent.

Whichever mattered more in a given case, the countless real battles and moments of insight accumulated on the way to that rank let them handle almost any opponent's swordsmanship with near-perfect precision.

To break through a fortress like that, you needed at least one technique that defied common sense.

Brett paused to catch his breath.

Actually, in this particular case, there was one thing that seemed almost tailor-made.

The massive cleaving strike Airen had shown off at Krono Fencing Hall, at the Murray villa, and at Zet Frost's training grounds.

"You need to refine that. Sharpen it until you can actually use it in a real fight."

"I'll work at it."

"If effort alone could get it done, what a happy world that'd be... I want to say that, but I honestly don't know what happens every time you say you'll work at something."

Brett took a sip of beer and narrowed his eyes, studying Airen.

The mood wasn't bad.

Not quite as confident as when he'd mentioned the legendary blade, but nowhere close to the face of someone drowning in impatience either.

This guy. Says it's not about the odds, but he's clearly been weighing them anyway.

Brett felt a small twinge of annoyance.

It was a strange feeling. He knew Airen wasn't doing anything wrong.

Going by what Airen himself had said, something really was off with Illia right now.

Her heart was so unsteady it was a wonder she'd ever reached the rank of Sword Master at all.

But still, she was a Sword Master.

Queen of swordsmen. One of the hundred greatest swordsmen alive.

Was it just his own small-mindedness that made him bristle a little at Airen's talk of beating her within four months?

'No, of course that's a reasonable thing to feel.'

Brett tipped his beer back and drank quickly.

He thought he understood now why Judith had gotten so angry.

Airen Farreira. A good guy, sure, but at times like this, an irritating one too.

Shaking off the feeling with that one thought, Brett moved on to the third and final condition.

"Third, and honestly, this might matter more than the first. You need swordsmanship that doesn't fall short of a Sword Master's."

"..."

"Well, it's not completely unheard of. People who've stayed at the peak of Expert for decades, you hear plenty of stories about their pure swordsmanship rivaling a Master's."

Brett's words were true.

Most talented Experts who never reach Master fail for a similar reason.

It's an Aura Sword problem.

Either the total volume of Aura built up in the body isn't enough, or they struggle with drawing it out.

But flip that around, and it means that when it comes to pure swordsmanship, setting the Aura Sword aside entirely, a truly refined Expert might well have the edge over a young genius Sword Master.

Zet Frost was the textbook example.

Looking only at swordsmanship, nobody would call him Expert-class.

His technique had reached the level of a master long ago.

But...

"This one's the hardest."

"Yeah. For you, this is the biggest problem."

Airen nodded at Brett's words.

He knew it himself.

His current swordsmanship wasn't close to good enough, not for Master, not even to top the ranks of Experts.

He hadn't even come out ahead in his own sparring matches against Brett and Judith.

And on top of that, the swordsmanship Illia Lindsay had shown today...

"Was incredible."

"Yeah, it was. Illia didn't just get lucky and stumble into some enlightenment that made her a Master. She perfected her swordsmanship before she ever perfected her Aura. That's what makes her a real Sword Master."

"..."

"Having a shield to block an Aura Sword and a technique to catch your opponent off guard means nothing if you're outmatched at the fundamentals. Ah, and come to think of it, Illia's already seen what you looked like at the Final Evaluation, so you'll need to refine that technique to something far more precise too."

The mood sank once Brett finished talking.

Kubharu, who'd raised the topic first, Brett, who'd explained it all so carefully, and Airen, the one it all concerned, each sat with a serious face, lost in thought.

Only Lulu stayed as full of energy as ever, though she kept quiet and just groomed herself, reading the room.

The silence stretched on.

It didn't last forever, of course.

Airen Farreira eventually lifted his head.

And he smiled, a smile with real strength behind it. Brett felt a small jolt of surprise.

Airen really was strange today.

Unlike usual, there was a confidence running through his every thought and action.

What was the source of it?

Brett didn't know.

Maybe, just like Airen said, he wasn't even considering the odds. Maybe it was simply because this was something he had to do, a situation he couldn't back down from, that he looked like this.

But still...

'Ever since he met Illia, something about him feels like it's changed a lot...'

Brett Lloyd was in the middle of that thought when Airen Farreira spoke, calm and even.

"I'll find a way somehow. There's still a hundred and twenty days left."

"..."

"Even counting the time it took me to travel here from home, it's not even been five months. And in that short stretch, I grew a lot. A whole lot."

So, somehow, he'd find a way.

Airen Farreira wrapped up his point by repeating the same words.

Everyone at the table wore a complicated sort of smile, watching him say it, when someone dropped into the empty seat that had been left for Judith.

It obviously wasn't Judith. It was a slender, handsome man wearing a stylish hat.

"Hints?"

"Good to meet you. Senior reporter for the Weekly Arena, Hints, at your service."

"...Wait, you're an elf?"

"Yes, that's right. An elf who's a reporter, and a reporter who's an elf. Ha ha. Sorry to intrude, but mind if I join you?"

"No. We don't need company."

Brett said it in a cold voice.

He'd run into reporters a few times back during his days at Krono Fencing Hall.

Right after word had spread that the 27th cohort was the Golden Generation.

He remembered the ones who'd pushed their way in relentlessly, desperate to know just how good the official trainees really were.

'Vicious, exhausting people.'

The type who'd do anything to dig up information.

No wonder his feelings on the matter weren't exactly warm.

But the next thing Hints said shifted the mood a little.

"You're wondering how to beat Sword Master Illia Lindsay."

"..."

"I heard everything Brett Lloyd here just laid out, the three conditions. Not a single flaw in the reasoning. Truly the insight you'd expect from Krono's 27th cohort's finest talent."

"...Were you eavesdropping this whole time?"

"Eavesdropping? That wounds me deeply. It's just that my ears happen to be quite sharp. I could be strolling down the street without a thought in my head and still catch every word going on around me."

"If you're just going to play word games..."

"There's one more condition."

"...?"

"For Sword Master Illia Lindsay, those three conditions I mentioned would be enough on their own. But if you want to beat Illia Lindsay the Proof Land Champion, and do it within a tight four-month deadline on top of that... this is the one that matters most."

"So what is it, exactly?"

Kubharu, who'd been listening quietly, cut in.

The man seemed like the type who could talk forever, and if nobody interrupted, he'd clearly go on rambling without end.

Kubharu suspected he might have provoked that exact reaction on purpose, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Getting the answer mattered more. Airen and Lulu were looking at the elf with much the same thought in mind.

Fortunately, Hints didn't drag it out any further.

"Building up your marketability."

"...Care to explain?"

"Of course, right away. Right now, the Proof Land is in the most heated state it's been in since it was founded. First Ignet Crescentia herself, then Illia Lindsay, two records for youngest Sword Master broken in quick succession. There's even a superstition going around now that the Proof Land itself carries some kind of lucky energy for becoming a Sword Master, same as Vulcanus's Numbering Swords."

"..."

"Skilled fighters who'd been quietly holed up in seclusion are flooding into Aienmarc. Monstrous old champions are flooding into Aienmarc. Swordsmen connected to them in one way or another are pouring in too, and no small number of skilled fighters are showing up simply because they're excited about how high the level of dueling has climbed. And their reputations reach the sky. Every single one of them is someone the crowd is dying to see."

"...You're saying we'd get bumped down the line behind people like that, and the match with the champion might never even happen?"

"Exactly right. No matter how skilled you are, if you can't draw the public's attention, your shot at a fight slips away. The Proof Land is an arena, after all. A stage built to perform for an audience."

Kubharu nodded at Hints's words.

It made sense.

Unless the champion could somehow split herself into multiple bodies, only a handful of challengers, within any given stretch of time, would ever earn the right to face her.

People with skill, sure, but also the kind of draw the crowd would love.

The whole group fell into thought.

Brett, wearing an uncomfortable expression, and Airen, who'd been listening quietly, both found themselves agreeing with what Hints had said.

And they turned their minds seriously toward how to satisfy that fourth condition.

That train of thought didn't last long, though.

"I'll help you. No, actually, let me put it the other way. Please help me."

"What?"

"If you take my hand... I, Hints, a man who'd be second to none in skill anywhere in Aienmarc, will turn you into the Proof Land's biggest star."

"..."

"I really, truly hope you'll work with me."

Hints dropped the naturally breezy air he'd been carrying and spoke with a serious expression.

His eyes held a depth of feeling like a gem cutter who'd just found an enormous rough stone.

Looking at the elf reporter like that, this time, even Brett couldn't bring himself to say anything sour.

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