WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 133

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Rapid Promotion (4)

'...So, cutting to the chase, Airen decided to settle things with a Sword Master within four months. Through swordsmanship, no less.'

The moment Judith heard that Airen Farreira had thrown down a challenge to Illia Lindsay.

The first thing she felt was shame.

Because she hadn't been able to do the same.

She'd resolved to train harder, more viciously, than anyone else.

She'd sworn to give everything she had so she wouldn't have to feel defeat or inferiority ever again... and then, the moment she saw Illia's Aura Sword, she gave up.

She'd pushed the burden onto some future version of herself.

Telling herself she couldn't win now.

That she'd figure it out later.

The exact opposite of what Airen Farreira had done.

That realization had torn a deep gash into Judith's pride, and from that moment, she'd pushed herself through a grueling stretch of training unlike anything before.

Training, training, nothing but training.

Harder days than even her time under Zet Frost.

She'd forgotten to eat, forgotten to sleep, and it had all been brutal, exhausting. But none of it compared to how much it hurt to remember the moment she'd accepted defeat.

The instant the venom drained out of her, she became nothing.

She wouldn't even be able to stand beside Airen or Brett, let alone Illia.

'Harder than everyone else.'

'More vicious than the talented ones.'

'Stupid, ignorant, like the least talented person in the world!'

Judith had spent every day since with that bone-deep resolve, and today, a month later, she'd finally gotten something worth calling results.

She still couldn't reach Illia.

But it was enough to catch that Airen brat off guard.

That was exactly why Judith had come to John Drew's estate.

She'd come here to snap at him, to tell him he wasn't the only one who had something going for him, that she could hold her own too.

But the man she saw again after a month had grown, yet again.

'Damn it!'

Crunch!

Judith drew her sword and clenched her jaw hard.

Then she glared murderously at Airen Farreira, who stood in a middle stance.

His posture was just as solid as always.

No, that wasn't quite right.

More relaxed than usual. Calmer.

She couldn't say exactly what had changed, but the pressure he gave off now was undeniably heavier, thicker than before.

Letting out a hot breath, Judith moved carefully.

She circled Airen, drawing a ring around him.

Light one moment, heavy the next, her footwork flickered like flame dancing in the air, unreadable, elaborate, entirely her own.

John Drew's eyes went wide.

"What in the..."

He was stunned.

He'd heard she wasn't even twenty yet, but the movement she showed now was something he'd never seen anywhere, bizarre yet impossibly refined.

His eyes could barely keep up.

Footwork he was almost certain she'd invented herself.

The talent and effort that had made that possible sent a chill down John Drew's spine.

But there was someone no less impressive standing across from her: Airen Farreira.

'Why isn't there an opening?'

Airen's swordsmanship had always been heavy, solid.

Attacking him while he held a defensive stance felt like trying to move a slab of iron rooted into the ground.

Not that there was no way through, of course.

Kick up chaos like this, scramble his vision, scramble his senses with footwork, and sooner or later an opening would come.

Even a light breeze could shake a massive boulder, and Judith was confident she could rattle a great tree like Airen the same way.

...But today, he showed no sign of budging at all.

'Damn it!'

No matter how unpredictably she moved, no matter how much of the insight she'd gained on the road to Partisan she wove into her steps, he wouldn't waver.

If anything, it was Judith's own resolve that started to shrink.

Airen's calm, tracking gaze felt like it wasn't just watching her, but taking in the entire space around them.

Having thought that far, she ground her teeth again.

Then she stopped circling and squared up to charge.

'If there's no opening, then I'll just hammer him until something breaks!'

That was more like it. This wasn't even her style to begin with.

She'd absorbed all sorts of lessons lately and her style had shifted because of it, but at her core, Judith had always been someone who charged in without a second thought.

Break, or be broken!

Steeling her expression, Judith called up her aura.

Enough force gathered at the tip of her foot to close the distance in a single step.

Just then, Airen Farreira, still standing firm, lifted his right foot as if about to kick something.

"...!"

Judith flinched.

The memory of his sparring match with Zet Frost flashed through her mind.

That absurd move, kicking the stone floor and sending fragments flying.

She hadn't been on the receiving end of it, but the moment had left a strong impression on her.

She reined in her forward charge and twisted her body to the side.

But no chunk of earth came flying.

Instead, Airen Farreira himself came shooting toward her at terrifying speed.

Clang!

"Ugh!"

'I fell for it!'

Irritation surged through her.

She'd been caught by a trick simple enough once you saw through it, lost the first strike, and had her stance thrown completely off balance.

Trying to block his greatsword in that state cost her dearly.

The real problem was that Airen's assault was only just beginning.

Kwaang!

Kwang!

Kwaaang!

His combination wasn't as fast as hers.

But the weight behind each strike was beyond anything she'd imagined.

She'd only managed to block five strikes and already her grip felt like it might tear apart.

She needed to reset her stance, but the ferocity bearing down on her left no room to breathe.

Judith didn't manage to find any breathing room until she'd blocked seventeen more strikes after that.

Flickering back like a will-o'-the-wisp, she opened the distance and glared at him, breathing hard.

Her eyes burned with a heat like an active volcano.

Airen paid it no mind.

Just as calm as before, he made the motion of kicking the ground again.

Except this time, it wasn't a feint. It was real.

Watching the jagged stone fragments come flying, Judith let out a furious shout.

"You bastard!"

Fwak!

She swung her sword hard, batting the debris away, and charged straight at Airen.

A fierce anger set her blood boiling through her whole body.

Blood surging like something gone mad poured monstrous strength into her muscle fibers.

A Forceful Strike violent enough to shatter stone and iron alike tore savagely through the space in front of Judith.

But it never reached Airen.

Thump!

He deflected her attack with precision, an attack driven more by excitement than reason.

Not that he could brush it off perfectly.

The power Judith had shown was beyond anything he'd expected.

But that didn't matter. All he had to do was move faster than an opponent whose stance had already broken down completely.

A beat faster, Airen brought his sword to Judith's neck and spoke quietly.

"Been a while since I won."

"....."

"Want to go again?"

"...Later."

Judith pushed his sword away with her hand and spoke.

Her voice quieter than usual.

Looking like a completely different person from when she'd first arrived, her face gone blank, she stared at Airen for a few seconds, then turned away and added one more thing.

"I'll come back another time."

"...Sure."

Airen didn't try to stop his friend as she walked out of the training room.

There was a time he might not have understood, but now, he could read what was in her heart.

An emotion even more intense than the one he'd sensed in her eyes back when she'd calmly told her story in front of Zet Frost.

Wherever her gaze had landed felt hot enough to leave a burn.

After a moment of silence, Airen spoke.

"I'll train alone until the next match."

"...Fair enough. I'll think of my own way to help you in the meantime."

Nodding, John Drew quietly left the training room as well.

It wasn't the right moment to bring up the cost of the damaged floor.

* * *

After leaving John Drew's estate, Judith wandered the streets of Aienmarc without any destination.

A few residents seemed to recognize her, murmuring among themselves, but she paid them no attention.

Her mood was too foul to bother reacting to that kind of thing.

The residents must have caught something in her expression too, because none of them tried to speak to her. A small mercy.

'...Lost again.'

Judith's potential was ranked among the best in the continent's central region, no, the entire continent.

She didn't need anyone to tell her that her talent was a gem, the kind that made countless swordsmen envious, shining bright.

But so what.

She'd lost again.

Just like during the Final Evaluation back when she'd been a green trainee, she'd fallen behind Airen Farreira and Illia Lindsay again.

'No, actually, that time was better.'

Judith let out a short, bitter laugh.

That was true. Back then, her sword might have been broken, but her spirit never had been.

Even when the silver haired and golden haired pair took first and second place and quietly left Krono Fencing Hall, she'd cursed them out, sure, but she'd never once laughed at herself with this kind of self-mockery.

"...Guess I'll rest today."

She knew.

She knew this wasn't the end.

Compared to her days scraping by in the slums, some of the venom had drained out of her, but she was still Judith.

Even if she spent today feeling gutted, she could pick herself back up tomorrow. That was fine. That was enough.

But today, she was in absolutely no mood to train.

Dragging her feet, wearing a hollow expression, Judith trudged back toward her lodging.

She stopped in her tracks when a blue haired man appeared in front of her.

"...What."

Judith's face hardened as she asked.

This didn't feel like a chance encounter on the street.

Brett Lloyd. That guy was clearly standing here to meet her.

Not bothering to hide it, the blue haired idiot answered right away.

"Kubharu got his hands on some good liquor. Lapraw, twenty-five years. Hard to find even with money. Rough on beginners, but once it hooks you, it's the kind you can't quit."

"...Get lost. I'm not drinking."

"If you don't want to drink, then you get lost."

"What?"

"I'm planning to be in a great mood today, and when I'm in a great mood, I make it my business to hand out drinks to everyone around me. Doesn't matter if you want one or not. If you're in my sights, you're doing a shot. No refusals accepted."

"What kind of..."

She was about to ask what kind of nonsense that was when Brett suddenly closed the distance.

Judith stepped back, scowling, and he scowled right back as he spoke.

"If you don't like it, fight me for it."

"What?"

"You want to skip the drinking and rest at your lodging. I'm planning to make everyone at that lodging drink, no exceptions."

"....."

"Our opinions don't match, so there's nothing for it. Whoever loses the sparring match follows the other's terms."

"Are you insane? Just go out and drink somewhere yourself and come back... ugh, forget it."

Judith had been about to snap back out of pure irritation, but she shook her head hard instead.

A flame that had gone quiet for a moment flared back up.

Along with the urge to beat the idiot in front of her half to death.

"Follow me. Let's settle this."

"Fine."

Judith spat on the ground and led the way, Brett trailing behind her.

Without a word, they headed to an empty lot Judith had rented, and the two of them clashed swords like maniacs from sundown to sunup.

* * *

Three days after Judith visited John Drew's estate.

Another sword duel was set for Airen Farreira.

This one was a promotion match to rise to Queen-level, and his opponent was Lucas Gibson, a wandering knight said to already carry Queen-level skill himself.

"An Expert against an Expert... rough luck for both of them."

"Who do you think takes it? Airen Farreira again?"

"Probably? I'd put it at seven to three."

"Hm, never would've guessed that young man had it in him to get this strong..."

Unlike before, most people were betting on Airen Farreira's victory.

His last three matches, where he'd crushed every opponent outright, had left quite an impression.

Of course, whether or not people expected him to win was one thing. Almost nobody believed his old boast would actually hold up this time.

No matter the gap in skill, Lucas Gibson was still an Expert.

Taking down an opponent like that in a single strike would require, at minimum, someone squarely in the middle ranks of King-level.

"No way that happens. Betting on that is insane."

"Can a bet even go through on that? I can't believe someone actually put money on it."

A match where Airen Farreira was all but guaranteed to be exposed as a liar.

And yet the crowd still packed in to watch him fight.

Whether he could keep his old promise or not didn't matter anymore.

How strong was Krono's hidden powerhouse, really. Today, facing an actual Expert, would he finally show his full strength.

Carrying that hope, people settled into their seats, sipping their beers, and at last the match began.

Before anyone could even blink, it was over.

"...!"

"Whoa..."

One strike.

Watching Airen Farreira take down his opponent in a single blow, yet again, the crowd realized they'd been laboring under some massive misunderstanding.

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