WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 194

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Confronting the Past (3)

Creating an Aura Sword was extremely difficult.

That wasn't just true for ordinary swordsmen or Experts.

Even Sword Masters, envied by everyone, had to strain themselves just to wrap their blade in aura.

It made sense. Accumulation, Amplification, Hardening, Awakening, Concentration, Manifestation, all six at once. There was no way that could be easy.

Airen Farreira himself had struggled to sustain an Aura Sword while fighting after his championship match against Illia.

'But right now...'

It was easy.

Of course, the current Airen was well past the point of finding an Aura Sword difficult to manage.

But if someone asked whether shaping and holding it was completely without strain, he would have had to shake his head.

Except right now, that wasn't true.

He was tracking all six aspects of Aura control at once, and it still felt far easier. Natural. Effortless.

Why was that?

The answer came quickly.

'The sword isn't a tool anymore...'

It felt like part of his own body.

Thinking that, Airen swung his sword in a quick arc.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

It really was true.

When a person took a step, or scratched their chin with a finger, they never stopped to think about "how to move."

It was too natural for that, too familiar a motion to require thought.

That was exactly how Airen's sword felt now. How his swordsmanship felt now.

Swinging his blade in a trance, he spoke the name of his past life.

"Karen Winker."

Hummmmmm!

As if answering the call, the sword's hum rang out.

Airen smiled.

He thought he understood why this was happening.

'The bond has grown stronger.'

The connection had run for close to ten years, but Airen had only recently come to understand his own past life.

In turn, his past self hadn't recognized his present self either, and had wandered lost in the dark all this time.

Not anymore.

The dying wish of the man who had once swung his sword in solitude had finally reached the present.

Freed from the demon's manipulation, his past life had finally set its heart at ease. And accepted itself.

'Have I reached a higher level now?'

He didn't know for sure.

But one thing was certain.

At the very least, facing the being glaring at him now with a hardened expression, the Jester Demon, he had no doubt at all that he wouldn't lose.

Finishing the thought, he settled into a combat stance and said,

"We can start now."

"...I see."

The demon muttered.

Its expression was still far from easy.

But unlike when the man from his past life had appeared, it seemed to be holding onto some measure of composure now.

Its eyes, which had been darting around wildly, had settled into something calmer.

Maybe that was why.

Its voice, once thick with impatience, had steadied too.

Spreading both palms open, the clown made an offer.

"How about we call this a draw?"

"...What nonsense are you talking."

"Hey, hey hey hey! Hear me out. You're misreading the situation right now. This is a deal that doesn't hurt you either, so just, just open your heart a little more, lend an ear, hm? Would you be so generous as to hear me out?"

"Enough with your tricks..."

"Six to four."

The Jester Demon held up six fingers, then four, counting them off in order.

"Those are the odds if you and I fought. I'll stake my true name, Gaeși, on it. This is the honest truth! Of course, six is me. Ha! I mean it!"

Watching Airen step forward, the clown leaped back in an exaggerated hop.

Whether that was meant to mock him or was just the creature's natural temperament, Airen couldn't tell.

Still holding his stance, he kept his eyes fixed on the demon.

Sensing a willingness to talk, the clown grinned, then slapped its own cheek hard and made an excuse.

Smack!

"Oh, sorry about that. That wasn't me laughing at you just now. I have a condition, you see, sometimes I just can't hold back a laugh."

"..."

"Can you understand that?"

"Get to the point."

"Right, right! The point! I love the point too. So, uh, where was I? Right! I said if we fought each other at full strength, my odds of winning are six, yours are four. That's the truth. Sure, that bastard who deserves to be chewed up and spat out caught me off guard and left me a wreck, broke my mask and all, but I'm still strong. Hup, hup, hup!"

The clown flexed its muscles three times in quick succession, then continued.

"Compared to that, you're a lot weaker than that damned Karen Winker. Oh! Don't misunderstand! I'm not saying you're pathetic! I only mean you're weak compared to that impossibly terrifying man! Don't take it the wrong way!"

Airen's expression, watching the clown, didn't change at all.

But that didn't mean he thought the demon was wrong.

Just as it said, he was, at present, absurdly weaker than his past life.

Of course, Karen Winker hadn't vanished entirely. Fully absorbed into the sword, he still gave off considerable presence.

But wielding that presence was entirely up to Airen Farreira himself, and he had no choice but to admit that his own skill fell short.

That was exactly the point the clown was pressing.

"Well? Hm? Let's call it a draw. A draw! I'll swear on my true name! Send me quietly on my way like this, and I'll let all your friends go, the ones trapped in the barrier right now, every one of them! No, no! Don't misunderstand this time either! Not just alive, mind you, I'll release them completely unharmed, not a hair out of place, in perfect health! I don't want to risk that forty percent!"

"..."

"Think it over! It's really not a bad offer. You, you're young, aren't you? Barely thirty at most, I'd guess, so you can get so much stronger than you are now. Hm? Isn't that right? So later, once you've aged, grown stronger, gathered more companions, you can come after me then. That's a much better deal, don't you think? Hm? Hm? Hm?"

The Jester Demon's words kept coming faster.

Sometimes appealing to sympathy, sometimes pressing like a devil, sometimes rambling nonsense, on and on it went, trying to persuade him, and Airen sighed watching it.

He didn't want to listen anymore. It was worse than he'd imagined.

The whispers of a demon that had spent a thousand years deceiving humans didn't just grate on the ears, they turned every sense sour.

There were no lies in it. His instincts, sharper now than ever before, could tell truth from falsehood.

So he knew.

But not lying wasn't the same as telling the whole truth.

Airen Farreira knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to take a demon's words at face value.

"I know."

"Hm?"

"You're not lying. But you're not telling the whole truth either. I know exactly why you're stalling."

"..."

"You think the longer this drags on, the better it is for you."

The clown, which had been chattering nonstop, fell silent.

That was the answer.

It was true it had been left a wreck by Ignet.

It was true Airen was a threat, and it was true it didn't want to shoulder a forty percent risk.

But there was one fact it hadn't mentioned.

The dark barrier, built at the cost of half its mask.

Inside it, the despair, rage, hatred, and fear of the trapped expedition members kept feeding it strength, without pause.

Kept raising its odds higher and higher.

That was the real reason the clown was stalling. It had no intention of leaving behind trouble the way it had a thousand years ago.

'But if he knows that, why...'

Doubt rose in the clown's eyes.

This one was a real problem. That sharp gaze, as if it could see clear down into its deepest core, was unbearably irritating.

It wanted to rip out its eyes right now, chew them up, spit them out, grind them under its heel.

But if this creature was so perceptive, why was he acting exactly as it wanted?

Why, exactly?

Vzzzzt!

"...!"

The clown's endlessly expanding thoughts came to a halt.

Turning its head in shock, its eyes caught sight of a blazing crimson wound. A ferocious flame burning through the darkness.

And that wasn't even the end of it.

Ssshhh...

"No!"

A silver light seeped through the darkness, cutting it open.

Radiant as the moon in a night sky, the light stung the clown's left cheek.

Eyes screwed shut, it staggered backward, again and again.

But the light didn't fade, and in the end, it had no choice but to force its eyes open and look at the newcomers.

The Black Knight Commander of the Holy Kingdom, Ignet Crescentia.

The greatest talent of House Lindsay, Illia Lindsay.

Facing the two of them standing tall, it finally understood.

Just as it had trusted the barrier, that young man had trusted his companions to break through it.

A venomous groan slipped from between the Jester Demon's teeth.

"Ngh..."

"How did you make it here?"

Ignet paid the demon no mind at all.

She looked toward Illia.

Frowning as if she couldn't quite believe it, she pressed the question again.

"I ask again. The darkness even Georgu, my order's vice commander, couldn't break through, how did you manage to cut through it and stand here?"

Fwoosh!

Flame flickered in Ignet's eyes.

She couldn't understand it. Airen was one thing, but Illia was someone she'd genuinely never given a second thought to until now.

The past was long forgotten, and the present opponent held no interest for her.

Looking further ahead than anyone, even sparing Airen a glance felt like an unwelcome distraction to Ignet.

'But I can't help asking.'

Glancing briefly at Airen, Ignet turned her eyes back to Illia.

In less than a month, what had made this girl grow so much?

What in the world had brought this greenhorn all the way here?

The answer came right away.

"That's funny."

"What did you say?"

"It's fine for you, but not for me? What kind of garbage logic is that?"

"..."

Ignet's expression went blank.

Being cursed at was shocking enough on its own, and the fact that this girl had actually cursed at her was another shock entirely.

What made it even more absurd was that Airen, watching the whole exchange, burst out laughing.

"Ha, hahahaha..."

"Why are you laughing?"

"No, sorry. But you're right. Ignet, your question was wrong."

"..."

"Asking how she got here, Illia is more than qualified to stand in this place."

Finishing his words, Airen looked at Illia. Illia looked back at him.

Having exchanged that trust, the two of them smiled at each other.

Watching them, Ignet's expression turned strange.

A feeling hard to put into words, something like understanding without wanting to understand, something unpleasant yet not quite unpleasant.

Giving up on making sense of it, she shook her head and said,

"I'll ask what I want to know later. First..."

"Yes, for now..."

"We need to finish off that disgusting thing."

Ignet Crescentia stepped forward, flame gathered in her blade.

Exhausted as she was, the pressure radiating from her sword was enough to bring a king to mind.

Illia Lindsay took her stance as well. Moonlight bright enough to color the night sky quietly swept the darkness aside.

"Whew."

Then, taking a light breath, Airen Farreira raised his sword too.

The sword of his past life, which had never once broken.

Wrapped in the flame of his present life, finally set upright.

Aiming his golden Aura Sword at the clown, he said quietly,

"Let's go."

"...Heh, heheheheh."

Facing the presence of three swordsmen, the Jester Demon suddenly burst out laughing.

It couldn't help it.

This was absurd.

The ones who had found its hiding place, the sanctuary it had tucked itself away in to heal, weren't ordinary Sword Masters. They were heroes of the age, formidable enough to threaten its very life.

And this wasn't even their prime yet. The clown closed its eyes and pictured their glittering future.

'They'll probably grow even stronger. Much stronger.'

Wielding power beyond anything comparable to now.

Shining in a way beyond anything comparable to now.

Loved and respected by so many, just as they were now, and living on for a long, long time. Surely, that's how it would go.

...And taking that possibility away from them, that was precisely the greatest joy a demon could know.

Thunk.

"...!"

"...!"

"What is it doing!"

The Jester Demon raised its right hand and drove it into its own right cheek. The three of them, startled, stared at it in confusion.

It paid them no mind.

With a wet, sickening crunch, the remaining half of its mask tore away from its face.

Blood, flesh, and shards of bone came away with it, and the demon, its face a ruin, laughed and wept at once. Tears streamed down.

The moment Airen realized those were tears of joy, the demon shattered its own mask.

Crunch.

An explosion followed.

He heard no sound.

Or maybe he did. He couldn't tell anymore.

But right now, he heard nothing.

A hot sensation spread through both his ears. Blood was running from them.

The fortunate thing was that his condition was steady enough to even register that sensation.

And that Illia, standing beside him, looked much the same.

But it hadn't come without cost.

"Why?"

Airen Farreira asked. Their eyes fell on Ignet Crescentia, lying collapsed on the ground, battered and broken.

The instant the demon self-destructed, she had rushed forward faster than anyone and taken most of the blast with her own body.

"Why, how could..."

Illia Lindsay asked the same question, her voice trembling.

The unfinished sentence carried the full weight of her confusion.

Barely managing to open her eyes, Ignet Crescentia looked back and forth between the two of them.

A faint, wry smile crossed her lips as she spoke.

"Don't know, you brats."

Slipping back into the speech of her old mercenary days for the first time in a long while, she lost consciousness.

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