Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 174

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 174

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Setting an Ambition (2)

"....."

The golden hilted greatsword, and the golden flame running along it.

Watching Airen Farreira's aura, too radiant to be called mere Aura, the great warrior Karakum thought back to when he'd first met the young man.

'An unpredictable one, that.'

That much was true.

Even without an Aura Sword blazing from his blade, it had been obvious at a glance that Airen was a Master.

That was how extraordinary his sword had been. He'd clearly spent no small amount of time honing it.

And yet, for all that fine skill, his willpower had seemed strangely weak.

After bringing down a few bandits, he'd gone pale and staggered up, gasping for breath, and Karakum hadn't even had it in him to laugh at the absurdity.

But what truly surprised him came right after.

'It's not a question of whether I can handle it.'

'It's a question of whether I have to.'

'Of course I have to. If it's for Kubharu, my master and friend.'

Standing before the strongest warrior of the orcs, one of the ten strongest on the entire continent.

The boy had drawn his sword without a shred of hesitation.

Not because he had confidence in his own skill.

Just as he'd said it, Airen had been ready to step forward for his friend, no matter the situation.

'A will of steel, unshaken by any pressure...'

Weak as a village child when it came to hurting someone.

But unbreakable as a hero out of legend when it came to protecting someone.

That such a human would draw his interest was, in a way, only natural.

And now, Airen Farreira had changed once again.

Not into something like a hero.

Watching the human swordsman who now looked exactly like a "young hero," Karakum had to fight down the urge to laugh.

'Wonderful.'

He felt delighted.

Far more delighted than he would have been by a simple improvement in swordsmanship.

The continent was living through a time of peace unlike anything in recorded history, and yet it remained chaotic all the same.

Full scale wars between nations had vanished, replaced by countless small conflicts within each kingdom. Demons had disappeared, replaced by villains even more horrific than they'd been.

Just look at the orc bandit group they'd run into last month.

Creatures half consumed by corruption like that one turned up everywhere, but most people stayed too busy chasing their own greed to care. That was the kind of world it was.

And yet, in the middle of all that.

A man had appeared, declaring he would raise his sword for others.

A human had appeared, saying he would work toward the happiness of more people than just his own.

Some would call it foolish. Others would call it embarrassing to even say aloud. Still others would call it pathetic. But this man spoke his ambition proudly, and Karakum studied his face.

His eyes felt brighter than the morning sun spreading warmth over the plains.

"...I want to ask you something."

But it wasn't pure delight, either.

Karakum, who had kept his silence for a long while, spoke slowly.

"I'll give you credit for the nerve it took to declare you'd walk the path of a hero."

"Thank you."

"But I'm curious. Whether you actually have the vessel to speak of being a hero. How crushing a weight the position of a hero carries. Whether you thought any of that through properly before you said what you said."

"....."

"There's an old saying. First set your own body and mind in order, then bring harmony to your household. After that, govern your nation, and only then bring peace to the world."

Airen nodded.

His experience of the world was narrow, but Karakum's words sounded familiar.

They were a well known teaching from an ancient sage's mouth. He kept his mouth shut and waited for what came next.

"I don't mean to force everyone into that old teaching, but I think it answers well enough just how difficult the path of a hero you speak of really is. It isn't a matter of simply governing yourself and being done with it. It means carrying, in your place, the burdens resting on the shoulders of countless people across the continent."

Karakum kept talking.

How much crushing weight rode on every word and action, every choice and thought a hero made.

How firm a resolve it took to hold onto one's beliefs in situations where right and wrong weren't clear.

How bitter the mistakes made along that road were bound to be, and how sharp the criticism that followed.

How strong a heart it took to endure all of that.

Airen couldn't let a single word pass by lightly.

Just as Karakum said, he himself had never in his life taken responsibility for anyone but himself.

Karakum, by contrast, had spent his whole life as chief of his tribe, carrying that weight across both shoulders.

'A title you can't claim just because you're strong in battle, or just because you're a good person...'

Called out on something he hadn't thought deeply about, Airen's face clouded with unease.

Watching him, Karakum gave a small nod.

He hadn't meant to scold the boy. If anything, he hoped Airen would hold onto the feeling he had right now.

But becoming a true hero would demand far more thought, far more effort, than he'd given it so far.

Karakum watched the clouds drift by for a moment, then brought his gaze back to Airen and spoke again.

"Wrestle with it fiercely. Take a cold, honest look at where you stand. Ask yourself if you've simply been swept up by the shock of your past life... whether the conviction you hold now is genuine enough to chase after something even the master of a great fencing hall, even a king, even a chieftain of a great tribe like myself, never dared to reach for. Think it over quietly."

"....."

Karakum let out a long breath after his advice.

Then, just as he moved to send the twin bladed axe back to the spirit realm.

Airen Farreira, who had been listening quietly all this while, dropped into a combat stance.

Fwoosh, an even fiercer golden Aura Sword bloomed from his blade.

Karakum frowned and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Every swordsman I've met so far has told me the same thing."

Airen smiled faintly, thinking of a few faces.

Lance Patterson and Hall Master Ian, from Krono Fencing Hall.

Brett Lloyd and Judith, whom he'd reunited with after so long.

That was right. Every one of them, more of a true swordsman than anyone else, had spoken their will through their blade, not their words, and shown their conviction that way.

And right now, Airen Farreira held a heart just as fitting for a swordsman as any of them.

"A swordsman should speak through his sword."

"....."

"I'm not simply being swept up by the memories of my past life. That memory just happened to arrive at the right moment, capping off the tower I'd already been building. Even without what happened this time, I believe I would have walked this path eventually."

"You..."

"Let me show you the proof. Spar with me a little longer."

Fwoooosh!

A greatsword, unyielding through and through.

Flame wrapping hot around its blade.

Watching the human swordsman advance, flaunting a will as firm as it was blazing, Karakum laughed.

It wasn't like him. The young man's provocation, drunk on his own fire, was audacious to say the least.

"Fine then, I'll beat some sense into you properly!"

A touch of anger.

And something far bigger than that, delight and pure enjoyment.

Carrying both feelings in his chest, Karakum raised his axe once more.

And bore down on Airen with far more force than before.

Kwaang!

Kwang!

Kwaaang!

A retired tribal chief, and a young swordsman aspiring to be a hero.

Watching the strange, delightful pairing, Gorha smiled, looking just as pleased.

* * *

The next day.

Airen woke early, washed up quickly, and headed for the training grounds.

He winced. The spar with Karakum the night before had been brutal.

Even after treatment, his whole body ached.

Still, there was nothing to be done about that.

He'd accepted every other word Karakum said, but the suggestion that he'd spoken carelessly, simply swept up by the shock of his past life, was something he couldn't let stand.

The heart he'd carried for his family, and the heart he'd carried for his friends.

Every flame besides those, now gathered into the single conviction and belief he held, would burn on forever without ever going out.

Airen didn't doubt that for a moment.

'But I need to take Karakum's other advice seriously.'

Facing a demonoid head on left no room for hesitation. Defeat it, and that was that. Right and wrong were clear in that kind of situation.

But when right and wrong weren't clear... say, when he had to step into a conflict between humans and humans.

If he had to make some choice regardless, could he really stay steady and land on the best judgment?

If harm would follow no matter which side he chose, was he ready to keep moving forward carrying the weight of the resentment, the guilt, that would come with it?

Was he prepared to keep pushing through that kind of thorny path, again and again, as if he'd never been wounded by it before?

'Not yet... I'm not ready for that.'

The memory of Alhad Den surfaced in his mind.

Not exactly right, but a fragile balance built from tangled interests all around.

Airen still hadn't found a clear answer to that whole situation.

Maybe there wasn't an objective answer to begin with. Maybe there was only the answer each person decided on for themselves.

To keep finding his own answer, unshaken, in situations like that, he needed a far sturdier sense of self than he currently had.

And building that would take far more experience, knowledge, and effort than he'd put in so far.

'Ignet's probably been putting in that kind of effort for a long time already.'

Maybe it was because he'd been wrestling with his own convictions.

The name of the person who'd left the strongest impression on him of anyone, Black Knight Commander Ignet Crescentia, rose in his mind.

Unlike him, she was pursuing the path of a king, but in the sense that she had to find her own right answer amid countless situations, they weren't so different.

Down to the fact that each of those choices carried tremendous weight.

And it wasn't only Ignet.

Chieftain Tarakhan, too.

Hall Master Ian, who presided over the fencing hall, too.

He found himself thinking that anyone standing in the position of a "leader," responsible for more than just themselves, had to be carrying similar pressure, had probably been living under a heavy weight their whole lives.

Realizing that, he also realized, in turn, just how easy and light a life he himself had been living up to now.

"...Can I really pull this off?"

Realizing what his sword truly was, that part was good.

But the pressure that realization brought was bigger than he'd imagined.

Maybe it was because this was the first time he'd ever had a dream like this.

The fear of failing to reach it, and the pressure that came from comparing himself to others, both had grown heavier than before.

Airen stared at the ground, looking dejected in a way he hadn't in a very long time.

"Can you pull what off? What's that about?"

Brett Lloyd, who had walked up without him noticing, threw the question his way.

Airen looked at him blankly for a moment before speaking.

"Brett."

"What."

"Mind hearing me out on something I've been worrying about?"

"Huh?"

"Huh? Why?"

"No, it's just, I was actually about to ask you the same thing."

"Huh? Really?"

Airen asked back, startled.

To him, Brett Lloyd had always been someone strong and effortlessly composed, the very picture of what a nobleman should be.

There used to be an edge of arrogance layered over that, which had made him hard to approach, but these days that same air had turned into something almost comedic, easygoing and familiar.

And yet here he was, apparently carrying some worry of his own, and on top of that.

'Coming to me, of all people, for advice?'

Not Kubharu?

That was more than a little interesting.

But Brett's story had to wait.

"You brought it up first, so let's hear yours first."

"Right."

Airen nodded and carefully laid out everything, the ambition he'd found in himself, what Karakum had said, and the worry it had left behind.

Naturally, Brett didn't laugh off his dream.

If anything, he thought it suited Airen better than anyone.

Even without the memories of a past life, this guy probably would have arrived at the same conclusion eventually.

House Lloyd's eldest son genuinely cheered on his friend's ambition.

Which was exactly why it made him angry.

Ignet, Tarakhan, Ian.

People carrying massive burdens on their shoulders.

Watching Airen shrink down, comparing himself to figures like that, Brett shook his head.

"You're an incredibly ungrateful little punk."

"Huh? Who?"

"You, obviously."

"Wait, why..."

"Look at who you named. Every single one of them a Sword Master, or someone even more impressive than that, and you're sitting there saying you feel like you're falling behind compared to them. What does that make me, then? Not a Sword Master, not remotely qualified to be a hero?"

"No, that's not what I meant..."

"Shut it. Quiet."

"....."

Silenced by Brett's sharp words, Airen said nothing.

A flash of irritation shot through Brett.

Never mind himself, even Judith had spent all this time worrying herself sick over this guy.

Watching Airen, sharper and more capable than anyone else their age, sulk over the ground like this was almost absurd.

But he understood it too, in a way.

Unless you were a god, comparing yourself to others was simply unavoidable, no matter how impressive you were.

Seeing your own shortcomings reflected back through someone else, feeling that creeping impatience, none of that could be helped either.

'Honestly, it's strange he hasn't shown much of that until now.'

Thinking about it that way, Brett actually felt glad.