WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 196

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Sensing (2)

Demons were terrible existences.

They carried endless malice toward humanity, and they wielded power fearsome enough to surpass even a Sword Master.

Unlike ordinary monsters, they were intelligent, even cunning, which made cornering them difficult enough on its own. But killing one wasn't the end of it either.

A death curse.

An ugly, revolting ability that any high-ranking demon possessed, one that had shattered the minds and eaten away at the bodies of countless people throughout history.

That was why the expedition team couldn't get out of the dungeon.

The barrier the Jester Demon had left behind in death wrapped around them in layer after layer, spewing out demonic aura without pause.

Negative emotions far beyond anything comparable to the doubt, anxiety, and confusion that had assailed them early in the dungeon delve drifted through the air like ghosts.

'Wide. Thick. Vicious.'

Ignet Crescentia swept a hand through the air, scattering a mental assault, and frowned.

She meant it. However grievous her injuries, she was still the one who had risen to command a knight order of Abilius.

If demonic aura this thick could irritate even her, ordinary expedition members should have gone insane or had their hearts corrupted in an instant.

But that hadn't happened.

Lying on her makeshift cot, she tensed her body. The pain was bad enough to draw a groan, but she held it back.

Anya, waiting beside her, put both hands on her hips and said, "Boss! I told you not to push yourself!"

"I'm fine. This is nothing."

"Ugh, you stubborn woman!"

"Didn't you know? I've always been stubborn."

Ignet answered curtly, then finally pulled herself all the way upright.

With her field of view widened at last, she looked over the dungeon's scenery, here and there.

"What, Amira! I knew you were good, but this good?"

"No, please don't say that so loudly..."

"Why not? With skill like this, shouldn't you be showing it off to everyone? Hm, though I do think it's a dereliction of duty that your cross-stitch is better than your swordsmanship..."

"I-it's not like that! This is purely a form of mental cultivation..."

Amira Shelton, absorbed in her cross-stitching, and Gregory Griffin, teasing her over it.

"Wow! Do it again! Again!"

"No, this actually takes a lot out of me, so doing it over and over..."

"Then I'll give you this. Just show me one more time."

"Ahem, but if I'm worn out from something this minor, I suppose I'll have to give up my title as the finest mage in the central region."

The cat, Lulu, holding out an amount impossible to refuse, and Perry Martinez, defeated by capital, putting on another illusion display.

Beyond them, others scattered across the dungeon were each resisting the curse in their own way.

Whether trading pointless jokes, swinging swords, or losing themselves in some simple hobby.

Each of them was doing everything they could to keep their mind from sinking into the abyss.

Of course, it made no sense.

The direction was right, but a demon's curse wasn't something so easily blocked by measures this small.

Hadn't the expedition team already struggled against traps far weaker than this one?

But there was a being standing at the center of the barrier who turned the impossible into the possible.

'...Airen Farreira.'

The young Sword Master, scattering golden energy.

Ignet's expression, as she watched him, turned deeply serious.

There was nothing strange about it, honestly, not anymore.

She understood now. Why she'd thrown her own body into the demon's suicide attack.

All of it was because she'd trusted him.

Because she'd sensed, on instinct, that he could lead this situation, that he had the ability to protect the expedition team from the demon's curse.

Sure enough, Airen was exerting his influence in a way that even someone as exacting as her had to nod along with.

'Manifestation of aura. And the spreading of will... remarkable. And absurd, at the same time.'

Ignet closed her eyes for a moment. Then she thought back to the Airen Farreira of the past.

He definitely hadn't looked like this before.

The boy she'd met barely a year and a half ago had no proper convictions of his own, wandering here and there, swept along by the iron will of some unknown presence.

That was true.

Him becoming a Master wasn't surprising at all. She'd known he had talent for the sword the moment she'd crossed blades with him.

But that he'd freed himself from that stubborn lump of iron, and beyond that, that he'd cultivated a will thick and deep enough to influence others as well as himself, all in such a short span of time... that, she never could have imagined.

"........."

Finishing her reminiscence, Ignet looked at Airen again.

It wasn't only Airen she watched.

The cat, who had drifted over to his side and taken up a strange posture, and Illia Lindsay, murmuring something beside him, both caught her eye as well.

Now that she thought about it, those two had been catching her attention for a while now too.

Was it because their abilities had turned out far greater than expected?

That reason wasn't entirely absent, sure.

But what Ignet was focused on was something else.

Her sharp eyes studied the two humans and the one cat closely.

Not separately, but taken together as a whole.

She felt many things.

A strong trust between them.

Positive energy born from that trust.

And from it, spreading outward, changes so complex and remarkable that even someone with Ignet's discerning eye couldn't grasp them all.

The finest talent of this era kept watching them, without pause. Dissecting, analyzing, trying to understand.

That very habit was the greatest strength that had carried Ignet to where she now stood.

The master of Krono, the kingdom's White Knight Commander, and plenty of other powerful figures besides, she had stolen quite a bit from all of them.

"........."

But this time was a little different.

Time passed. As it did, the sharp edge in Ignet's eyes gradually softened.

Not because she'd achieved what she wanted. Not because the pain of her injuries had scattered her focus, either.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

The days when she'd had no grand dream, no unshakable sword, just living hard through one day after another.

Roaming the slums with old friends she couldn't even say were still alive now, that memory took over her mind.

The sight of herself running toward somewhere, not alone but together with others, looked rather happy in her memory.

Along with it came the thought that maybe those old memories felt happy now because those three, over there, were smiling at each other.

The black-haired swordswoman, now at the tail end of her twenties, gazed at Airen's group for a long, long while, without end.

* * *

"Georgu! Georgu!"

"What!"

"Stop the boss!"

"Like I could stop her even if I tried. And how long are you gonna keep calling her boss? She's the commander now."

"I don't know! Boss is boss!"

Georgu shook his head, looking at Anya's deeply furrowed frown.

Of course, he knew too. That the commander's condition right now was about as bad as it got.

If it were a simple external wound, a priest's power could have handled it right away, but she'd been directly exposed to a great demon's demonic aura, so proper treatment wasn't possible here.

'It's because she's the commander that she's even holding onto her life. Anyone else wouldn't have lasted a day.'

Having thought this far, Georgu glanced over toward Ignet.

The problem was, even in a situation this dire, she showed no intention of actually resting.

Of course, she wasn't forcing herself up off the cot or swinging a sword around or anything like that.

She was just sitting upright, watching the expedition team, mostly Airen's group, in particular.

But even that much was worth worrying about.

With her needing to sleep around the clock and barely managing not to, Anya's concern made a fair amount of sense to him too.

But...

'This is exactly the kind of time you don't interrupt the commander.'

Georgu thought back to the past.

Ignet had been the same way back then, too.

She'd spend days looking like she was possessed by something, just like now, then shut herself in her room. Or vanish off somewhere quietly.

A few more days would pass, and when the commander reappeared, she'd show growth that made absolutely no sense.

It was probably happening again right now.

He couldn't begin to imagine what she was thinking about, what she was drawing inspiration from, being the ordinary talent that he was... but Georgu trusted Ignet.

Even if the commander didn't trust herself, he trusted her.

She would overcome this.

An injury that even a priest's holy magic couldn't touch?

Didn't matter. She'd overcome it on her own.

She'd shake off the wound in spectacular fashion, rise up, and shatter the barrier like a miracle.

It was every bit as monstrous as the great demons whose names are written into history, but not even its death curse would be enough to stop Ignet Crescentia.

Nodding, Georgu Poive looked at the commander again.

Finding her already looking his way, he gave an awkward smile.

Ignet spoke.

"Why are you smiling."

"No reason."

"Were you thinking something lewd?"

"What kind of talk is that. I was thinking about you, Commander."

"Meaning you were having filthy thoughts about me?"

"No, that's a joke I can't really take..."

"Meaning I'm not enough to satisfy you? Ambitious of you."

"...You've recovered quite a bit."

Georgu Poive said this with a serious expression.

It wasn't flattery. She still looked pretty worn down, but at least her voice carried some ease now.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but her complexion seemed better than before too. Her recovery was much, much faster than he'd expected.

'And something else...'

Just a little, but he thought her eyes had warmed too.

Of course, he knew the commander wasn't a cold person by nature.

A habit left over from her mercenary days, she often cracked pointless jokes and teased her subordinates.

But that was always just for the sake of the unit's morale.

There had always been a wall, a line, that even he, having been with her for over ten years, found hard to cross...

"Yes, I've recovered a fair bit."

"Ah, that's a relief. Truly a relief."

His train of thought broke off. Hearing the commander's words, Georgu smiled with real feeling.

Things weren't going badly.

Their food shortage was being covered by the Sorcery piggy bank Anya had earned through diligent odd jobs, and despite the dungeon being saturated with demonic aura, no one had fallen to corruption.

Airen was doing his part, of course, but surprisingly, Amira Shelton's cross-stitching had played a considerable role too.

A corner of the dungeon had piled up with dozens of elaborate needlework pieces churned out by grown men.

'If we just hold on a little longer like this... well, maybe more than a little, but anyway, if we can just hold out, the commander will find some way to recover, and then we'll be able to escape. It's definitely possible.'

A faint smile touched Georgu's lips.

Even in his eyes, which others might call lazy-looking, no small amount of trust in Ignet lingered.

Once more, even if the commander didn't trust others, he trusted her.

But then, astonishing words came out of her mouth.

"...You're leaving the escape to someone else?"

"That's right. My condition right now isn't quite up to it. I need help."

Georgu's face went blank with shock.

Anya Marta beside him, and the Black Knight Order members off to the side working diligently at their cross-stitch, showed similar reactions.

It couldn't be helped. Their commander wasn't the type to ask for anyone's help, wasn't the type to trust anyone else.

Someone so much better than everyone else that she couldn't bring herself to trust anyone.

Someone who couldn't rest easy unless she led the way in everything herself.

'And that commander...'

'Is leaving the escape to someone else?'

'How?'

'Is there anyone besides the commander who could even break through this barrier?'

Doubt spread through the eyes of the Black Knight Order members.

They weren't the only ones. The rest of the expedition team felt the same.

With Georgu Poive, the second-strongest paladin among them, still falling short, who on earth could break through the Jester Demon's death curse?

Sevion Brooks?

Perry Martinez?

Airen Farreira?

Illia Lindsay?

Not one of them seemed capable of it.

They were all undeniably powerful figures no one could dismiss, but the fact that none of them could wield holy power was a massive handicap when it came to breaking a demon's curse.

"Holy power isn't necessary. Not that I could teach it to an outsider carelessly anyway."

"........."

"But passing on what's entirely my own, that should present no problem."

Had she read the thoughts of everyone gathered there?

Rising to her feet, Ignet Crescentia murmured quietly.

She let out a slow breath, then drew her sword. And swung it.

Fwooosh!

A motion nowhere near as powerful as when she was at full strength, lacking real force behind it.

But the strong among them felt it. That something special dwelled within Ignet's blade.

And at the same moment, they remembered.

The reason she, the youngest Sword Master on record, from the humblest of origins, had been granted the rank of countess of Abilius in one stroke.

Fwooosh!

"Even before the grace of the divine walked beside me, my sword was already capable of cutting through darkness."

Swinging her sword once more, Ignet Crescentia looked at Airen Farreira. Then she looked at Illia Lindsay.

The two of them stood frozen, staring at her as though nailed in place, and their gazes weren't unpleasant to her at all. A small laugh escaped her.

After a brief pause, she cast her eyes over the rest of the strong ones gathered there as well, then continued.

"My swordsmanship. If you want it, I'll teach it to you."

"........."

Ignet Crescentia's secret swordsmanship, one carrying within it the very root of evil's destruction.

Hearing this unexpected offer, fire flickered hot in the eyes of the swordsmen gathered there.

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