Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 155

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 155

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The Great Clash (1)

"........."

Silence blanketed the area.

The merchants who'd been watching the sparring, and even the mercenaries who'd been busy crossing swords of their own, all stopped what they were doing and stared at one spot.

At Airen and Illia. There was no way anyone could help it.

The two of them had only touched blades for the briefest moment, but that instant alone had been more than enough to announce exactly what they were.

The mercenaries realized the two had reached at least Expert rank.

'Isn't that stronger than any Expert I've ever seen?'

'Are they just baby-faced? They look so young! No, even accounting for that, they can't be past their mid-twenties...'

'What in the world is going on?'

The mercenaries stood frozen, mouths hanging open in shock.

Yet even they hadn't grasped the true extent of Airen and Illia's actual skill.

Airen, gazing steadily at Illia, spoke quietly.

"Was that first charge on purpose? Making it obvious, I mean."

"Right. The second attack was the real one anyway."

"Hm..."

The people listening to their exchange wore expressions of pure confusion.

The silver-haired swordswoman's attack had been so fast they'd barely been able to see it.

And yet the blond young man had dismissed it as an "obvious" attack, and his opponent had agreed without hesitation.

It was a conversation that made no sense to anyone watching.

But between two swordsmen who had reached Master rank, there was a deep tactical exchange happening that the onlookers simply couldn't follow.

'She used the fact that I can see Aura against me. Simple Aura control on the first charge, then a deliberately complicated feint right after.'

Novice swordsmen couldn't read their opponent's moves. They were too busy just managing their own.

But as skill grew and room to breathe opened up, reading the opponent's intent, reacting to it, and catching them off guard became what mattered.

Airen knew this too, having learned it from John Drew. He'd reached the point where he could infer an opponent's next move just from their muscles, their eyes, the angle of their feet.

But Illia had gone a step further and started using her Aura control itself as a tool of psychological warfare.

She said, "I can't read it as intuitively as you can, but my father told me even he can get some sense of an opponent's Aura."

"Through Awakening?"

"Probably. I've heard high-level Sword Masters all have sharpened senses, and they actually enjoy this kind of mind game."

"I'll have to watch out for that going forward."

'What are they even saying?'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

The mercenaries listening to the two swordsmen's exchange looked ready to burst with frustration.

These two were clearly on a level far above their own. Every single word out of their mouths was worth more than money could buy.

But barely understanding a quarter of it left them practically choking on their own curiosity.

Not that it mattered to Illia or Airen either way.

The two looked at each other and picked the sparring back up.

Clang!

Clang-!

"Whew."

Airen blocked Illia's attacks, coming faster now than before, and caught his breath. Then he sharpened his focus.

He'd figured knowing her tactics would make things easier. He'd figured wrong.

The speed at which she deceived him through Aura control outpaced his own ability to see and judge with his eyes.

Solving that required one of two things.

Either deep enough experience to be comfortable with this kind of fight, or senses sharp enough to catch an opponent's Aura faster than the eye could.

Neither was within Airen's reach yet, but he found himself smiling anyway.

The fact that there was still so much to learn, even after becoming a Master, filled him with genuine joy.

Kwaang!

"Ngh!"

Caught off guard, Airen Farreira took a bit of a hit.

Yet watching him wear that pleased expression regardless, Illia Lindsay felt something complicated stir in her.

'He's really different from before.'

The Airen of his Fencing Hall days hadn't been like this.

She'd always thought it impressive, the way he pushed forward stubbornly without caring what anyone thought of him. But she'd never once considered that it might be born from genuine passion for the sword.

Which was why the look on his face now, one of pure delight at discovering something new, struck her as such a shock.

'What about me?'

The question she'd asked herself countless times since her loss at the Proof Land.

She still didn't know the answer.

The version of herself that used to love the sword had vanished without a trace, leaving only someone adrift, wandering with no destination. The old anguish welled up in her again.

Even so, Illia's attacks kept coming, fierce as ever, but Airen Farreira wasn't about to miss the fleeting opening she'd left.

Thud-!

"Ngh..."

A groan slipped through Illia's clenched teeth.

She'd been the one attacking, and her timing hadn't been off. She'd driven the strike home at exactly the angle and point she'd meant to.

But the moment her blade met his, an impossibly heavy, dull impact shot through her arm.

Like striking an iron statue.

Her palm rang with the shock, and Illia leapt back, while Airen braced for a counter and pressed forward instead, boldly closing the distance.

Then he unleashed a flurry of strikes.

Clang!

Clang-!

Thankfully, she didn't feel that same crushing weight again, but her hand was still numb, forcing Illia to stay on the defensive for a good while.

Ever since the championship match, she'd held the upper hand in most of their spars, so this turn of events left her more than a little flustered.

Of course, that flow didn't hold all the way through.

Once she felt her hand recover, Illia pushed Airen back with a well-placed counter, then lowered her sword and said, "Let's stop here."

"Should we?"

"That thing you did in the middle there, how'd you manage it?"

"Ah, I tried hardening my whole body with Aura, all at once."

"Your whole body?"

"Yeah. I pictured myself becoming an iron giant. I can't move while doing it yet, so I only tried it for a single instant, timed to when I blocked your strike."

To be precise, it wasn't an iron giant he'd imagined, but the shape of the man from his dreams, the one who no longer appeared to him.

A man harder, heavier, more solid than anyone Airen had ever seen.

Gaining the heart of fire didn't mean he had to abandon that steel-like image.

If anything, it was the fire that had let him master Metal energy in the first place, which made this kind of application possible.

"Interesting. Want to talk it through some more?"

"Sure."

As if the ferocious exchange from moments ago had never happened, the two of them sat down and started chatting away.

Aura control this, hardening that, how spirit energy might apply, something about a dream.

Most of it was well beyond the mercenaries' understanding, and their eyes filled with disappointment.

Why bother racking their brains over words they couldn't even follow? They'd rather just watch people beat each other senseless!

Even if they couldn't fully appreciate that either!

While everyone was thinking exactly that, Judith, who had been quietly watching Airen and Illia's match up to that point, drew her sword.

Then she said, "Brett. Get up."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

Called out by name, Brett rose to his feet with a look of surprise.

Ever since leaving the Proof Land, she'd spent most of her time training alone.

Or, on the occasions she did spar, she'd spent it against one of the other two, Illia especially.

Compared to Airen, whom she'd fought to exhaustion more times than she could count, Illia was someone she was meeting again for the first time since their Fencing Hall days. Given Judith's drive to become "the strongest on the continent," it made sense her attention would gravitate toward a Master.

Brett, for his part, had needed time to quietly sort through his own personal growth, so the two of them hadn't crossed swords in a while.

Which made her sudden summons all the more puzzling.

Looking at her eyes only deepened that feeling.

'This doesn't feel like she just picked whoever was left over.'

There was something about her that seemed almost expectant.

Brett mulled it over for a moment, then shook his head and stood up.

"Sure, let's see how it goes. Been a while."

His words drew a burst of cheering from the merchant caravan.

Back when Airen and Illia had been fighting, the mood had been more along the lines of "who on earth are these people?" But by now, everyone knew.

That they were renowned trainees of Krono Fencing Hall, and a Sword Master of House Lindsay.

All thanks to Frederick, who'd been going around telling everyone with an air of I-told-you-so satisfaction.

'This one's going to be something too, right?'

'I heard he's a bit behind the other two, but he's still an Expert.'

'Supposedly ranked among the top Experts, even...'

Publicly, the two of them were known to be top-tier Experts.

Given their ages, it was a downright absurd level of achievement, and even setting age aside, they were the kind of strong you didn't come across easily anywhere.

Their anticipation recharged, the crowd swallowed hard and fixed their eyes on the pair, and Brett swept a glance over the ring of onlookers surrounding them like scenery.

But Judith's gaze stayed locked on Brett alone.

Something about the strange mood she gave off made him uneasy, and he cleared his throat before speaking.

"Let's just get right into it."

"Fine."

Thud!

The moment their brief exchange ended, the match began with Judith striking first, much like it had with Airen and Illia.

The mercenaries watched the clash with fierce concentration.

Unlike before, when they'd simply gawked in a daze, this time they meant to focus and actually take something away from it.

That resolve vanished without a trace not long after the fight began.

Judith and Brett's match, just like the one before it, was on a level far beyond them.

"Whoa..."

"Ahh..."

Judith's relentless barrage, fierce and flashy as an endless string of explosions, met by Brett's defense, smooth and flowing as water deflecting every blow.

Analysis was out of the question from the start, and even catching individual moments proved too much to keep up with.

All they could do was hang their mouths open and marvel in stunned silence.

Then something unexpected happened.

In the middle of a heated exchange, Judith suddenly lowered her sword.

"What?"

"...That's enough."

Turning away with an even stranger look than before, visibly unsettled about something, Judith walked off.

Brett, Airen, and Illia all shot her puzzled looks.

Judith's moods were unpredictable at the best of times, but even so, none of them could figure out what had set her off.

"E, excuse me! Sorry to bother you, but... are you Illia Lindsay? Ah, forgive me if that's rude of me! It's just, I felt like I'd regret it forever if I didn't come say something..."

"Airen Farreira, sir! By any chance..."

"Brett Lloyd, sir!"

But there was no chance to go after Judith.

The moment the match ended, one mercenary worked up the courage to approach the three of them, and seeing that, the rest swarmed over as well.

Judith had been giving off a heavy, unapproachable air, which made people hesitant, but the other three weren't like that.

And unlike in the past, none of them made a habit of brushing people off just because they were nobles. Airen especially.

In the end, they fielded questions from the mercenaries under even more attention than they'd drawn at the Proof Land, and night eventually fell.

"Brett. Get up."

Later, once most everyone had fallen asleep,

Judith, who had stayed silent the entire time since, called Brett aside.

"........."

Brett followed her without complaint, walking a short distance away from the rest of the group.

One of the mercenaries on watch shot them a knowing look.

But Brett knew better.

Judith hadn't called him out here over anything between a man and a woman.

A moment later, her eyes sharpened, and she spoke.

"Why'd you hide your skill?"

"...What?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You're hiding it. Your real strength."

"........."

Brett Lloyd blinked, momentarily stunned by her blunt accusation.

Of course, that didn't last.

He'd just started gathering himself to offer some kind of excuse when Judith cut in a half-beat ahead of him.

"Airen and Illia might not notice, but you can't fool me. I've watched you longer than anyone, closer than anyone. You've made progress since a few days ago... no, since Aienmarc. Haven't you."

"........."

"I thought about it. Why would this bastard be hiding his skill? To surprise everyone later? To land a clean hit on Illia or Airen when they're not expecting it? No, that's not it either. I know you. That's not who you are. So I kept ruling things out, one after another, and thought it through some more, and I got it. You..."

"Judith..."

"You've been looking down on me like I'm pathetic."

Judith let out a hot breath after saying that.

She wasn't done.

Catching her breath fast, she pushed on before Brett could get a word in.

"You think I'm funny?"

"........."

"Pity me, do you? Huh? Like if you don't hold back, I'll just crumble at the bottom, huh? Give up without even trying to catch up, that pathetic? That's how you see me?"

"That's not it..."

Brett went to speak, then stopped himself.

Judith's eyes bore into him harder than he'd ever seen.

It was hard to look at. Harder still because that gaze was aimed straight at him and no one else.

The words wouldn't come easily. He turned his thoughts over carefully, trying to choose the right ones.

But he never got the chance to explain.

A commotion rose in the distance.

Clop clop clop

Dozens, no, over a hundred sets of hoofbeats mixed with a chorus of loud, chattering voices.

He couldn't make out the words. Partly because too many voices overlapped, but also because the language itself sounded foreign.

Probably not the continental common tongue. Orcish, maybe.

"What is that?"

"Wake up! Everyone, up!"

Sensing something was wrong, the night watch shouted the camp awake.

Mercenaries rubbed sleep from their eyes and scrambled up all around, grabbing their gear with grim faces, while the mages cast Light to clear their vision.

Kubharu summoned a fire spirit of his own to light up the area.

And there, revealed in the glow, were the orcs.

A band of bandits.

A massive one, at that.

"What in the..."

"........."

Tension gripped the merchants' faces.

No wonder. It wasn't just the numbers. The bandits themselves carried a presence that made it clear they weren't some ragtag rabble.

The mercenary captain and the senior merchants scrambled into an emergency conference.

Clop clop

While that went on, an orc stepped forward from among the bandits, who had already surrounded the camp completely.

Built like two men fused into one, he spoke in the continental common tongue, low and chilling.