WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 126

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Super Rookies (2)

About four hours after the doors of the Starting Ground opened, all of that day's tests had wrapped up.

The prospective duelists who'd fought waited anxiously for their results.

Maybe out of consideration for them, the rank measurements came together faster than expected.

The judges had already sorted most of the classification work in advance.

Checking the names posted on the large board, the swordsmen reacted in all sorts of different ways.

"Ugh, failed again!"

"Yes, pass!"

"Well, of course I passed... but man, I thought I'd start at Knight-level, and here I am starting from Pawn."

"Don't be so disappointed. The standard's completely different from before. Passing at all in this kind of brutal competition is something to celebrate. Come on, let's go grab a drink."

"Guess so... better to think positive, huh. All right, I'll climb to Knight-level in no time!"

Someone let out a cry of joy.

Someone else swallowed the bitterness of failing.

And someone else, having passed but disappointed by a result below what they'd hoped for, steadied themselves after a moment and set their jaw with fresh resolve.

The participants, having each made peace with their results in their own way, poured out of the arena to unwind.

The remaining spectators greeted them with hearty applause.

"Good match, Tristan! Climb up fast, you hear!"

"Well fought, everyone! Congratulations to those who passed, and to those who didn't, go have a drink and forget about it!"

"That's right, don't mope! Just come back and try again next time!"

"Old man, quit showing up already! You'll really die out there one of these days!"

"Hahahaha!"

Opportunity Land, where Pawn, Knight, Bishop, and Rook-level duelists gathered.

Glory Land, where Queen and King-level duelists gathered.

The biggest difference between those two arenas and this Starting Ground was how close the distance was between the duel participants and the audience.

No small number of spectators called out this or that word of encouragement to the departing participants.

Every so often a wisecracker tossed out a joke, but nothing bad enough to make anyone's face go red.

That light mood, though, lasted only a moment.

The crowd went quiet the instant the next three swordsmen appeared.

Today's stars had arrived.

Brett Lloyd, eldest son of House Lloyd, known as the finest of Krono Fencing Hall's 27th cohort.

Judith, a commoner despite it all, who rivaled him for that same top spot with staggering talent.

The onlookers' eyes, fixed on the two young swordsmen, were full of surprise.

"They look a lot younger than I expected. Well, I suppose that makes sense given their age..."

"Neither one's twenty yet, is that right? Incredible."

"They finished all three matches in an instant, didn't they?"

"That's what I heard. It ended so fast I didn't even get to see Brett Lloyd's fight."

"Word is they both got Bishop, the highest rank you can earn here at the Starting Ground."

"Well, at that level, they'd count as exceptional even among the prospects. They've earned it."

Maybe it was from a lifetime spent watching duels since childhood.

These spectators knew not just western swordsmen but the continent's famous names inside and out.

To people like that, the arrival of Brett Lloyd and Judith, the two top prospects out of the central region, was nothing short of thrilling.

And the two of them weren't even the whole story.

A blond young man had appeared alongside them, clearly on friendly terms with the pair.

An unidentified figure who, despite his mild looks, had overwhelmed the veteran mercenary Karis with one clean, decisive strike.

The onlookers spared some of their attention for him too.

"He's from the same 27th cohort too, isn't he?"

"What was his name again? Airen Farreira? Never heard of him..."

"Well, even a place like Krono Fencing Hall can't expect anyone to memorize every trainee's name. Still, impressive. Even without being one of the top contenders, he's got enough to comfortably reach Bishop-level?"

"Exactly what I was thinking."

"That's Krono Fencing Hall for you," people couldn't help but murmur.

Of course, their tone wasn't purely admiring.

No matter what anyone said, they believed the pinnacle of swordsmanship belonged to the western continent.

However impressive Krono Fencing Hall might be, to people who were westerners to the bone, it could never come first.

But that kind of regional pride was itself part of the fun of watching duels.

And no one understood that better than the spectators, no, than the reporters who'd worked their legs off chasing down every scrap of news.

"Excuse me! I'm Ben, a reporter with the weekly Dark Sword! Are you Master Brett Lloyd?"

"I'm Andre, senior reporter with Weekly Valhalla. If it's not too much trouble, just a few questions..."

"Miss Judith! Over here, please!"

"Why have Krono's trainees traveled all the way to the Proof Land? Is it to prove the swordsmanship of the central continent to the west?"

"Wait, please, don't just walk off, just one word..."

The reporters who'd been hiding among the spectators came pouring out all at once.

At first there were only two or three, but once the hesitant ones saw others jumping in, they all joined, and in an instant the space in front of the Starting Ground turned into a chaotic marketplace.

But their pushy attempt at an interview was cut short almost immediately.

A dangerous aura began pouring out of the red haired swordswoman, Judith.

Fwoooosh!

"Gah!"

"...!"

"Ngh..."

The reporters staggered back, faces pale.

A few of the more experienced ones managed to hold their ground, but even they gave up on trying to speak to Judith.

They understood it instinctively.

No matter how many questions they hurled at her, they wouldn't get so much as a single word out of this young prospect.

Swallowing hard, the reporters shifted their attention to Brett Lloyd instead.

The instant they did, a heavy aura began rolling off him too.

Fwooosh!

"Hm..."

"..."

Compared to Judith's, his presence was relatively mild.

But his attitude toward the press was just as unwelcoming.

The reporters' faces twisted like they'd bitten into something bitter.

'Damn it, both of them are the hard-to-interview type.'

'Haven't they been cooped up in the fencing hall this whole time? First time out in the wider continent, you'd think they'd be excited enough to talk a little...'

'Why are these kids so tightly wound?'

Ordinary prospects weren't like this.

Thinking of it as their first chance to introduce themselves to the world, aware that reporters would shape their public image, they usually kept up appearances at least somewhat.

And even while doing that, most of them couldn't help letting their excitement slip out in this remark or that.

But these two, whether from some past experience getting burned by reporters or simple indifference to fame and image, responded with nothing but ice.

Of course, failing to land an interview didn't mean they couldn't write an article at all.

Two of Krono's top contenders from the 27th cohort had appeared!

That fact alone was more than enough to fill out a story.

Still...

'It'd be nice to have a bit more meat on the bones, though...'

While the reporters were mulling that over.

Hints, the senior reporter for Weekly Arena who'd been standing quietly off to the side this whole time, moved quickly.

He didn't approach the prickly red haired or blue haired swordsmen.

Instead, he stepped up to the blond young man standing a bit behind them and asked his question.

"Hello. I'm Hints, senior reporter for Weekly Arena. If it's not too rude, would you mind a few simple questions?"

"Sure. What would you like to know?"

"...!"

Exclamation marks practically popped up over every reporter's head at once.

That's right. They couldn't land an interview with Brett Lloyd or Judith directly, but if they went through his companion, they might pick up some information secondhand.

And unlike the other two, this blond young man looked far easier to work with.

His expression was mild, his tone gentle, and it seemed like just a little pressure might get all sorts of answers out of him.

The moment that thought crossed their minds, the reporters swarmed toward him in an instant.

"You're Airen Farreira, correct? You seem to be close with Krono's official trainees. Are you an official trainee as well, Mr. Farreira?"

"Why have the three of you come to visit the Proof Land together!"

"Is it true that Hall Master Ian said Brett Lloyd and Judith have enough talent to become Sword Masters?"

"I have one question about Brett Lloyd!"

"If it's not too much trouble, something about Judith too..."

"Me too...!"

Questions, questions, and more questions.

It was a genuine feast of questions.

The onlookers watching the scene frowned.

They'd seen reporters push around an easy target plenty of times before, but this seemed like it was going too far.

Even most of the questions weren't really about the blond young man himself, they were focused on his fellow trainees, Brett Lloyd and Judith.

It wouldn't have been strange if he'd looked annoyed.

But Airen Farreira, on the receiving end of all those questions, didn't frown.

Nor did he look flustered or overwhelmed by the pressure of the reporters.

Standing calmly at the center of the chaos, he spoke in a quiet voice.

"Would you all mind being quiet for a moment?"

Astonishingly, the commotion died down in an instant.

"...?"

"What?"

The spectators watching the scene murmured cautiously among themselves.

It was strange. That young man, Airen Farreira, hadn't said anything particularly remarkable.

Nor had he released any kind of aura the way Brett and Judith had. He'd simply made a request.

And yet the famously stubborn reporters had gone quiet in an instant.

"..."

The reporters exchanged glances, checking each other's reactions.

Not one of them could properly explain why they'd all stopped talking at the same moment.

Was it coincidence, or did that mild looking young man carry some kind of mysterious power?

In that strange atmosphere, Airen Farreira spoke.

"I'm sorry, but I can't speak on my fellow trainees' behalf. If they didn't answer, it's probably because they didn't want to, and it wouldn't be right for me to answer in their place when I'm not the one you're asking about."

"..."

"Instead, let me share a little something of my own. A goal, or, well, maybe you could call it a pledge."

The reporters nodded.

Rather than going home with nothing at all, at least writing down whatever this blond young man had to say seemed worth the trouble.

Besides, Airen Farreira wasn't some nobody either.

He couldn't be compared to Brett and Judith, but being an official trainee of Krono's 27th cohort alone was enough to draw readers' interest.

Of course, judging by his behavior so far, he seemed like the model student type, which honestly meant his story would probably be pretty dull...

Every reporter there was thinking exactly that when.

"I won't dance around it. As a proud swordsman of Krono, and as a duelist who intends to honor what the Proof Land truly stands for. I'll do my best to give you an exciting, thrilling match."

"Oh?"

"Before I ever stand on the stage of Queen-level, I'll take down every opponent in a single strike."

"Huh?"

"I hope that answers your expectations, reporters. That'll be all."

With a slight bow, Airen Farreira walked forward, confident in his stride.

Then, along with Brett Lloyd and Judith, who'd been waiting for him, he quickly left the scene.

A moment later, the still slightly dazed onlookers began speaking up one by one.

"Wait, what did he just say? Did I hear that wrong?"

"Queen-level? Not even Rook, and he's saying he'll end every match in one strike all the way up to Queen?"

"Heh. Seemed humble at first, but turns out he's more arrogant than I expected."

"So what? A young man ought to have that kind of nerve. Though... he doesn't seem to know just how brutal the Proof Land's gotten these days."

"I suppose if he did, he wouldn't be saying something so absurd..."

Some grumbled about his arrogance, others laughed, saying they liked the boldness.

Amid that mixed reaction, the reporters, every single one of them, wore bright expressions.

Naturally.

Whether or not he could actually keep his pledge, a duelist running his mouth was always good news for reporters.

If he failed, they'd write a mocking piece. If he succeeded, a new star would be born.

Of course, the odds favored the former by far...

'Doesn't matter. The main dish is Brett Lloyd and Judith anyway.'

'Better get back and start drafting. Fast...'

The reporters scattered in an instant, their faces full of calculation.

Hints, the first one to have asked a question, watched them go with a knowing look and nodded.

'He's a lot better at this than I expected.'

It wasn't as if Hints didn't already know how remarkable Airen Farreira was.

But a swordsman's skill and their public buzz never scaled together in a straight line.

Looks, presence, way with words, all of it shifted public expectations from rock bottom to sky high.

That was the nature of a duelist.

Looking at it that way, what Airen Farreira had just shown was pretty impressive.

No, that undersold it.

Just for a moment, but Hints had felt it.

The weight of the pressure that had silenced the reporters instantly.

That presence belonged to the "real ones," the kind only those close to a throne could ever put out.

Smiling faintly, the elf reporter turned and walked off, thinking.

'No need to rush this out. Better to let it age a little longer. Of course, in the meantime, I'll feed the other jackals some fake leads to chase before they catch the scent themselves...'

He'd let it simmer, and then, at the exact moment the expected value he could squeeze from what he had reached its peak.

He'd blow it wide open in style.

Sharp enough, striking enough, to burn itself into the public's memory deeper than any other challenger's.

And so a day passed.

"Hm? Quite a few impressive rookies this time, huh?"

The next morning, exclamations of admiration spilled from the mouths of Aienmarc's residents as they flipped through their morning papers.

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