Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 158

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 158

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The Great Clash (4)

A strange one, he thought.

Karakum, the greatest warrior among the orcs, frowned as he studied Airen Farreira.

A truly strange one indeed.

A sword the likes of which he'd never seen before, paired with swordsmanship that looked to be only at the entry level of the Master rank.

But he'd judged the man to possess a will far weaker than his skill, and so he'd held no real expectations for his opponent.

And yet, look at him now.

The pale, faint-hearted figure from just moments ago had vanished completely, replaced by the fierce presence of a genuine Sword Master, one radiating a ferocity like red-hot iron, pressing down on him.

An opponent truly impossible to pin down.

Feeling no small amount of interest, Karakum reached his left hand out to the side.

Whirl.

Thwack!

The hammer he'd thrown at the orc chieftain earlier flew back and landed in his grip.

Airen was startled.

He'd heard something like this from Brett once before, that even warriors who weren't mages or Sorcerers could move objects at a distance.

But he'd also heard that doing so required an extremely high level of Aura control.

To make manifested Aura strong enough to draw an object toward you required tremendous focus and skill.

'Wait, is that not Aura but Spirit Magic?'

It had happened too fast to properly confirm which.

Either way, one thing was certain: his opponent's ability was extraordinary.

An opponent he had no way of handling as he currently stood.

But this was a situation he had to face head on regardless.

As the tension rose, Airen Farreira let out a short breath.

Karakum hurled the hammer in his left hand with tremendous force.

Whoooosh!

A hunk of metal flying in at a terrifying speed.

Watching the projectile tear through the air toward him, Airen lowered his center of gravity.

He gripped the handle with one hand while bracing the flat of the blade with the other, adopting a stance as though using his weapon as a shield.

He didn't dodge. He didn't run.

Watching the man's clear intent to take the blow head on, Karakum let out a hollow laugh.

'Reckless bravado.'

He still hadn't gauged the man's true strength.

But that hardly mattered. He'd put more than enough force behind the throw that no ordinary block could hold against it.

If the man refused to dodge, he would take damage, no question about it.

Karakum stomped his foot, already anticipating the underwhelming result.

He planned to follow up immediately on the human swordsman, whose stance would surely crumble the moment he caught the hammer.

Thud!

That was when something unexpected happened.

The hammer, on collision, went flying high into the sky, and Airen's body was pushed back a good distance as well.

A screeching sound tore through the air as he carved a long trench into the ground, his face twisted in pain.

But that was all.

Watching his opponent block the attack without any real damage, Karakum was more than a little surprised.

'How does he know our tribe's technique?'

The Durkali tribe's secret art, born from fusing Spirit Magic with Aura control: the Five Elements Divine Technique.

What the human swordsman had shown was a defensive method drawing on the power of metal, one of its five elements, pouring hardened energy through the entire body to enter a state as unyielding as iron.

Of course, it wasn't as though humans had nothing comparable.

Pushing Hardening, one of the six core concepts of Aura control, to its absolute limit could produce a similar effect.

But still.

'That wasn't all. He was clearly wielding the energy of metal properly.'

It hadn't felt like something he'd merely studied.

It felt more like an energy he'd carried within body and heart for a long time, surfacing naturally. Which made it all the more absurd to Karakum.

In the span of a single breath, a thousand thoughts ran through his mind before his expression hardened.

The former chieftain of the Durkali, already closing the distance, swung his axe down with a roar.

"Taaahaap!"

Kwaaang!

The monstrous force that had shattered the bandit chief's body poured down onto Airen Farreira. His hair stood on end.

Even using the defensive technique Brett had taught him, his grip felt like it might tear apart from the strain.

Even so, Airen didn't buckle.

Gritting his teeth, holding on with everything he had, the decisive battle at the Proof Land surfaced in his mind.

'If I hold on, the chance will come.'

Not just the fight against Illia Lindsay.

Krono Fencing Hall, the Sorcery barrier, and everything that had happened afterward, in all of it, what mattered was never letting his resolve break.

The sword of Airen, once a boy but now a man, carried something far more tenacious in it than before.

Of course, will alone couldn't accomplish everything.

Some Sorcerers could summon miracles that defied all reason, but Airen was closer to a swordsman than a Sorcerer.

He wasn't the type to count on luck in a moment of crisis. Not shameless enough for that.

That was the truth of it. The reason Airen was holding his own now wasn't luck or Sorcery, but the crystallization of skill and experience he'd built as a swordsman.

That was what shone now, brilliant as a gemstone.

Kwaang!

Kwaaang!

Thud!

'Impressive.'

Swinging again and again, relentlessly aiming at the man's right side like a woodcutter splitting logs, Karakum watched with a look of surprise.

Watching his opponent hold firm through the pain and difficulty, ultimately deflecting even the final blow.

He felt, without meaning to, a swell of genuine pleasure filling his chest.

That first spark of something special he'd noticed earlier wasn't showing itself now.

But that didn't matter in the slightest.

Feeling the effort, the will, the heart poured into every thrust of the sword, every step of the feet, Karakum pressed Airen with an ever wider variety of attacks.

Bit by bit, a smile began to creep onto his face, as though he were facing some gifted young warrior of his own tribe.

'What if I pushed in like this?'

'If I attacked this way, could he still block it?'

As time passed, the intent behind Karakum's axe blade shifted, little by little.

The ferocity of his presence stayed just as fierce, but there was no longer any trace of hostility in his eyes.

Under an assault both strict and gentle, like a master teaching a student, Airen was, without even realizing it, laying the groundwork to climb even higher.

Of course, a situation like this couldn't last forever.

'A shame.'

Ironically, it was Karakum, not Airen Farreira, who felt more reluctant to see this fight end.

When was the last time he'd fought like this, with such genuine joy, against anyone besides his other son, Tarakhan?

He couldn't quite remember. That was how long he'd guarded his position in solitude.

He'd stepped down from the chieftain's seat, but he remained a leader still.

The position of Grand Warrior, representing the orcs as a whole, forced restraint onto his every action. It was a heavy burden.

'But a burden I must carry regardless.'

Recognizing his own duty, Karakum's eyes went wide.

Startled by the sudden shift in his mood, Airen stumbled back a step.

It wasn't a move that fit his usual style of holding ground and advancing steadily, but the feeling in the air had turned bad.

Seeing this, Karakum gave a small nod.

Still rough around the edges, not yet fully refined, but his instincts were sharp at their core.

His expression hardening, he murmured to himself.

'I'll hold back this time.'

'So stand down quietly.'

Thought settled, Karakum charged forward at a terrifying speed.

He swung his massive axe with enough force to split a mountain in two.

His target wasn't Airen Farreira himself, but the sword in his hands.

In the blink of an eye, the axe blade closed the distance and met the golden blade.

Kwaaang!

"Hm?"

A sight entirely unlike what he'd expected.

Karakum's expression turned to confusion as he watched the greatsword sail high into the air without the slightest resistance.

In a way, it could have been the right call.

Holding on to the sword would have torn the man's grip apart, maybe even dislocated his arm.

But he hadn't expected the man to simply let go of the sword entirely, the way he just had.

His opponent's strange behavior didn't end there.

Empty handed, he still held the stance as though gripping a sword.

He even swung as if he were holding one.

Karakum narrowed his eyes at the absurd sight, and that was when something astonishing happened.

In Airen's hand, which had held nothing at all, the greatsword that had flown far off now reappeared.

"...!"

For the first time since the fight began, Karakum, flustered, hurried to pull his axe back into position.

An ordinary sword might have been one thing, but there was no blocking a Master's Aura Sword with a shin guard or a shoulder plate.

Kwaaaang!

But his stance had already broken down too badly to fully block it, and his body tilted, staggering to the right.

"Guh!"

Karakum widened his stance and barely kept his balance.

But this wasn't the end of it either.

His senses, spread wide across the surroundings, picked up presences just as threatening as the opponent in front of him.

Bang!

A red haired swordswoman closing in with an intensity like a blazing fire.

Slither.

Another swordswoman circling in behind her with a gentle, fluid motion, soft as flowing water.

Hummmm...!

And last, a silver haired swordsman who, just like the one he'd been fighting, had reached the rank of Master.

Four skilled swordsmen in total, pressing in on Karakum from every direction.

Fixing his gaze on them, the honored warrior of the Durkali let out a roar loud enough to split the sky from the earth.

Waaaaaaaaah!

Kwaaaaaaaaang!

Karakum recovered his stance with unbelievable speed and stomped his foot down hard.

A circular shockwave rippled outward from him.

The flat ground split and buckled like a cracker, throwing the four members of Krono back.

"Guh!"

"Ugh!"

"No way..."

"...!"

A move beyond imagining.

The four of them couldn't help but gape in shock at a sight majestic enough to belong in a myth.

And that wasn't the end of it either.

Hiss...

Bubble, bubble, bubble.

Heat rose from the ground, fierce enough to draw a cold sweat just from watching.

Molten lava rose along with the smoke and flowed like a river through the cracked earth.

Slide.

Thwack!

Hummmm...

The hammer Airen had knocked far away returned once more to Karakum's hand.

It fused together with the axe he already held.

What emerged, reborn, was a massive double bladed axe, sharper than before with the new edge added.

Its chilling, overwhelming form looked almost like Karakum himself given shape as a weapon, and the four of them, Airen included, swallowed hard.

Facing them, the great warrior and spirit mage Karakum spoke.

"I'll admit it. All of you are fine warriors, more than capable of drawing out my full strength."

"........."

"You're not orcs, so I can't tell your exact ages, but you look rather young to me. Kubharu, do you know how old these ones are?"

"...Around twenty on average, Father."

"Even younger than I expected. No, young isn't even the right word for it. Children, more like. Hah..."

Karakum let out a deep sigh.

Regret, reluctance, joy, sorrow, and a tangle of other emotions poured out into the air along with the breath of fire.

Having shed those feelings, he spoke with weight.

"Go."

"........."

"I won't say anything more. Leave with Kubharu."

Boom!

Crrrrrrrack!

Karakum stomped his foot once more, and the cracks in the earth widened further.

Through the widening gaps, boiling lava churned as if it might erupt at any moment.

Brett Lloyd. Illia Lindsay.

Airen Farreira, and even Judith, who had been brimming with venomous energy, all fell silent, none of them daring to step forward. There was nothing else they could do.

But not everyone shared that reaction.

Whooosh.

"...?"

A black cat drifted down between Karakum and the four of them, its flight utterly at odds with the grave mood of the moment.

Lulu the Sorcerer landed lightly on a patch of ground the lava hadn't yet reached.

Of course, though nothing showed on her face, her mind was anything but at ease.

Eyes wide, Lulu raised a front paw and pointed it at Karakum.

"You."

"........."

"You're in trouble."

"........."

Karakum was at a loss for words.