WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 18

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Mid-Term Evaluation (3)

The Mid-Term Evaluation, the biggest event since anyone had entered Krono Fencing Hall, had finally come to an end.

The evaluation ran on absolute standards, not relative ranking.

Which meant that the moment testing wrapped up, everyone already knew their own result.

Pass or fail was decided without any need for a separate announcement.

And yet the mood at the fencing hall right now felt strange, considering that.

It wasn't the thirty-five trainees who'd passed who were making all the noise. It was the nearly four hundred who'd failed.

They were training their hearts out, showing no sign of despair at all.

"Hoop, hoop!"

"This time... for sure!"

"I can do this. I can definitely do this much."

The reason came down to something Instructor Karaka had announced.

A second evaluation. What people were already calling the second-chance round.

He'd delivered the news with that easygoing face of his, and the kids who'd been drowning in despair cursed the instructors as heartless devils even as they jumped for joy.

Because the standards for the second evaluation were far easier than the first.

Honestly, the first round's standards had been absurd to begin with. Normally the number of Mid-Term Evaluation passers was kept somewhere around a hundred.

But thanks to splitting the test into two rounds like this, the instructors had gotten a much clearer read on the trainees' grit, mental toughness, and potential.

"That Theron kid, he had more than enough ability to pass the second round. But in the first round he gave up early and didn't really try. Honestly disappointing."

"McKellan's the opposite. Barely scrapes by the second round's standard, but he didn't give up even in the much harder first round."

"Right. Looks like he beat his own personal best because of it."

"If he passes this time, we should keep a closer eye on him."

"Ah, and as for Judith..."

Krono Fencing Hall existed to raise the great talents of the future. Which was exactly why it evaluated mental fortitude and character alongside current skill.

The instructors assessed each of the trainee candidates one by one, then shared their notes with each other.

The kids, off celebrating their second chance, had no idea any of this was happening.

"All right, last one..."

"This kid."

The instructors had worked through everyone by now, from the bottom of the pile with zero chance of passing, all the way up to top performers like Illia Lindsay and Brett Lloyd.

Only one name was left. Ahmed, Karaka, Rune Tarhall, and the rest of the instructors looked down at the name written on the evaluation sheet.

[Airen Farreira]

Thirty-fourth out of the thirty-five who'd passed the first round. A solid result, but nothing that stood out on paper.

But a result on its own wasn't the whole story.

Anyone who'd actually watched what he did during the test would agree with that.

The instructors fell silent for a moment, then all turned to look the same direction.

Ian, the Hall Master who hadn't said a word this whole time, smiled and finally spoke.

"In this case, this is obviously the right call, don't you think?"

The old man scrawled something quickly onto the evaluation sheet, and the instructors nodded once they saw it.

With everyone in agreement, the matter was about to be settled.

"Um, Hall Master, sir..."

"Hm? What is it?"

A voice came from outside the door, and Ian's expression turned puzzled.

There was no way the person out there didn't know a meeting was in session. So why call him out now? Had something happened?

Before he could finish the thought, the assistant instructor's answer came through.

"Preliminary trainee number 101, Judith, wants to see you, sir. Her, ah, her business is... she's requesting a retest for preliminary trainee number 311, Airen Farreira. She says his record shouldn't be hurt because of her."

"Heh, heh heh heh."

Ian burst out laughing.

He liked it, both the tender heart that made her worry about a fellow trainee, and the childlike bluntness with which she'd come straight here to demand it.

Some might call it rude, showing up like that. He wasn't one of them.

And her request wasn't even a problem to begin with.

They'd already settled the matter in a favorable direction.

But he didn't feel like telling her that just yet.

A mischievous glint rose in Hall Master Ian's eyes as he smiled and spoke.

"Is that right? And if I said I couldn't do that? Let's see what you'd..."

"Should I show you? What I'd do about it?"

But before he even finished the sentence, a loud voice cut in from outside the door.

Judith.

While the instructors held back their laughter, the red haired girl laid out her threat one more time.

"You probably can't handle it! I'll cause the worst kind of trouble!"

"You little brat! Act up like that and you'll get properly scolded!"

"I'll take whatever punishment you want after the retest, so it's fine! So hurry up with the retest! Hurry, hurry!"

"Ha, hahahaha!"

The Hall Master let out a booming laugh at Judith's antics, rude as they were, and somehow still endearing, like a granddaughter throwing a tantrum.

The instructors couldn't hold it in this time either. The meeting room erupted into laughter in an instant.

In that bright, cheerful mood, the meeting about the Mid-Term Evaluation was wrapping up.

***

At that same hour.

Airen Farreira, the man of the hour, was spending his time exactly as he always did.

Training, training, more training.

A truly horrifying level of diligence.

Brett Lloyd, watching him run for a moment, shook his head.

That guy is completely insane.

He'd been dismissing Airen up to this point, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd quietly acknowledged that the guy's grit was something else.

This time, though, it wasn't that.

He didn't feel any competitive fire, any I can do that too. He just felt worn out.

It was like watching something that had been a different species from birth.

I guess that's how you pull off a miracle like that growth of his.

Brett thought back to yesterday's Mid-Term Evaluation.

The stamina, the raw strength, every physical ability Airen had shown off out there.

He had no choice but to admit it.

Airen's performance was something Brett couldn't have touched even giving everything he had.

"...Damn it."

Grrk.

He ground his teeth.

He knew.

He knew that placing second in this Mid-Term Evaluation had come down to luck.

If Judith hadn't been stupid enough to overpace herself, and if Airen Farreira hadn't gone and done something even stupider than her.

If both those things hadn't happened, Brett would've walked away with a shabby fourth place finish, and he knew it.

"...I'm not losing next time."

Illia Lindsay, fine, he'd give her that.

Anyone beyond her who tried to pass him, he wouldn't forgive. Not ever.

Muttering that quietly to himself, Brett Lloyd pulled his eyes away from Airen.

That guy was that guy, and he was himself. Chasing after someone else's unplanned workout instead of resting on schedule would've been pointless.

I don't know how the hell he pulled off growth like that, but...

I'll grow my own way.

With that resolved, Brett headed back to the dorm.

"Hoop, hoop!"

Whatever Brett thought of it, Airen Farreira kept right on training.

It was absurd, really.

Just yesterday he'd poured everything he had into the evaluation, and after something that big, resting was the normal move.

Even Brett, the practice fiend, had chosen to rest. That was the obvious, sensible thing to do.

But that logic only applied to ordinary people.

Airen faced the man in his dreams every single night.

And he knew exactly what kind of training that man put himself through.

Which was why he could say it. This much was nothing.

He'd barely been training for half a year. He had no business resting yet.

He was thinking exactly that, focusing on his breathing and his balance, when it happened.

"Why did you do it?"

A voice from behind him.

A familiar voice.

It could hardly be anyone else. Since the physical ability test back at the very start, only one person had ever spoken to him directly.

Illia Lindsay.

A silver haired girl came into view, looking as though she'd been sculpted from moonlit snowflakes, beautiful and cold all at once.

But something was off.

Her usual indifferent eyes were the same. Her frozen expression was the same. An ordinary person probably wouldn't have noticed any difference at all.

But Airen's eyes had been opened since yesterday, and he could tell.

She was working hard to hide the fact that she was upset.

And the cause of it was him. No one else.

Airen stopped moving and spoke.

"About what?"

"You know. You know what I'm talking about."

"..."

"You don't know?"

"You mean saving Judith?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Why on earth did you do that?"

Her voice was as flat and unemotional as always.

Airen could tell, once again.

The reason her voice sounded the same as usual was that she was holding back a mountain of emotion.

She was deeply disappointed by what he'd done yesterday, and furious because of it.

He understood exactly why Illia Lindsay was acting like this.

That's because it cost him his top-five finish.

Krono Fencing Hall's Hall Master Ian's own prize.

That was an enormous thing to give up.

How many chances in a lifetime would someone get to be rewarded personally by one of the greatest swordsmen on the continent?

Maybe none. Maybe never, in an entire lifetime.

Even Airen, who'd stumbled into swordsmanship almost by accident, had felt his heart race a little at the thought of it. That's how massive, how incredible the prize riding on this Mid-Term Evaluation had been.

But if she was asking whether he regretted saving Judith because of it, then.

"It just felt like something I had to do."

That was the only answer Airen had.

Of course, not everyone would accept that.

Illia Lindsay was one of them. Her expression finally cracked when she heard his answer.

Her eyes sharpened, her whole face sharpened, in a way anyone could have seen.

Staring straight ahead for a long moment like that, the silver haired girl abruptly turned away.

Then she spoke.

"You said you'd never held a sword before. Not until last year."

"...Right."

"Physical training and swordsmanship are different things. Both need effort and talent, that's true, but for swordsmanship, talent matters a lot more."

"..."

"Missing out on the Hall Master's prize because of yesterday's decision, losing my help because of it, going right back to being a laughingstock in front of everyone because of it..."

Her voice had steadied, as if she'd finally gotten her emotions under control.

Flat and cold again, the way she always sounded.

She finished what she had to say in that same tone.

"...I hope you don't regret it."

Illia Lindsay left, the words hanging in the air behind her.

Airen watched her shimmering silver hair for a long time.

Watching her walk away, cold as midwinter despite it being the middle of summer, a question rose in him without his meaning it to.

She's the one who told me not to care what other people think. So why...

Why did she seem to be the one caring more, today of all days?

He didn't understand it.

There'd been too few conversations between them for him to make sense of it.

And yet he spent a long time trying to understand Illia Lindsay anyway.

Whatever had happened today, she was the only trainee at the fencing hall who'd looked at him without any prejudice from the start.

She'd also helped him more than anyone else, by a wide margin.

If it hadn't been for Illia's help, what would've happened to him?

Forget a top-five finish, he might have been sweating over whether he'd even pass the second evaluation.

That was exactly why Airen wanted to understand the silver haired girl's baffling emotions, and if he could, smooth things over between them.

"..."

Of course, none of that thinking got him anywhere.

How was he supposed to understand the heart of a girl he barely even had a proper relationship with, one who happened to be the same age as his own little sister?

Shaking his head, Airen took off running down the physical training course again.

***

Two days later.

The second Mid-Term Evaluation came to a close as well. Including the seventy eight additional trainees who passed, the total number of successful candidates reached one hundred and thirteen.

Roughly three hundred preliminary trainees had no choice but to leave the fencing hall in tears.

But where there's sorrow, there's also joy.

That joy belonged to the five who'd placed in the top five during the first exam.

Illia Lindsay and Brett Lloyd led the group of five kids who climbed onto the podium, grinning ear to ear.

Lance Patterson in particular, one of the Brett Lloyd crowd, could barely keep from smiling so hard his face might split in two.

And no wonder. He'd never once thought he'd actually make it into the top five.

Airen, that idiot, I'm eating good thanks to him.

Having landed this unexpected stroke of luck, Lance Patterson wasted no time badmouthing Airen in his head.

Tsk, tsk. What a pathetic guy.

Running off to do his own thing in the middle of the test.

Trying to look like a good guy or something? He should've picked a better moment for it.

Still, lucky for me. A spaced out idiot like that with zero competitive drive, no way he clears the swordsmanship exam.

A few of the more small minded trainees had even worse thoughts running through their heads.

Airen couldn't be called the lazy lord anymore. He'd shown enough ability to pass the first round even after saving Judith. None of that mattered to them.

They didn't want to see someone they'd looked down on succeed. They wanted him to fall, and keep falling, until he was beneath them again.

Which was exactly why what came next out of Hall Master Ian's mouth left them stunned.

"Preliminary trainee number 311, Airen Farreira."

"Yes, sir."

"Step up to the podium to receive your award."

"...?"

Even the top ranked trainees, Illia Lindsay and Brett Lloyd included, wore looks of shock.

Only Judith, who'd gone straight to Ian to request a retest for Airen, stood there clapping with a face full of pure joy.

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