Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 199

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 199

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You're Not Enough (1)

The Jester Demon's curse had ended.

No matter how high-ranking a demon it might have been, it couldn't hold out against the reinforcements from the Holy Kingdom of Abilius.

Under the command of Julius Hyul, the continent's strongest paladin, the barrier shattered and the demonic aura was purified in short order.

Information gathering, situation assessment, every other necessary measure had been carried out in an instant.

And so came the final tally.

Total dungeon expedition members: 127. Deaths: 1. Injuries: 0.

The problem was that they'd gained no reward at all.

Faced with a result that fell far short of expectations, Perry Martinez, the man in charge for Lavath, kept letting out sigh after sigh.

'I thought this was supposed to be a gamble with pretty good odds.'

True, dungeon expeditions were essentially gambles by nature.

You might claw your way to the deepest chamber only to find a horde of undead monsters, or the artifact you barely managed to dig up turns out to be corrupted with dark mana. That wasn't rare.

But that was true only of dungeons made within the last hundred years, or small ones.

A mana-barrier dungeon, and an ancient one estimated to be at least several centuries old at that. Expectations naturally ran high for something like that.

But the result was a total bust.

The dungeon they'd poured no small amount of time and money into clearing had turned out to be the lair of a great demon, and every last item they'd dug out of it, after searching every corner, was tainted with a curse.

What made it even more infuriating was that they couldn't even claim the honor of having slain an ancient demon.

'I understand why, but still...'

Demons are born in the demon realm. No exceptions.

Even the ones that appeared centuries ago had only crossed over through rifts torn open by the continent's chaos.

That was exactly why the Holy Kingdom forcibly kept the kingdoms from warring with each other.

Only by keeping the continent's chaos to a minimum could the sealed rift stay closed, and only then would the demons never show themselves again.

For the same reason, the news that "a demon has appeared for the first time in a hundred and fifty years" needed to be buried completely.

In the end, despite all the effort it had poured in, Lavath came away with neither honor nor material reward.

"Hah."

Perry Martinez let out another sigh.

The one small mercy was that Julius Hyul, the White Knight Commander leading the reinforcements, had promised a consolation payment.

Of course, there was no telling how much it would be. A large sum would be a relief, but even a small one wasn't something he could argue about.

Who would dare argue with the Holy Kingdom, the continent's strongest power, one that also held the moral high ground?

'And besides...'

The old mage closed his eyes for a moment. He recalled the moment of their rescue.

Julius Hyul, the continent's strongest paladin, appearing with a white halo at his back.

His presence had been genuinely overwhelming. Even Perry, who had lived his whole life with pride intact, had felt his body stiffen.

But that wasn't what had actually surprised him. Everyone already knew Julius Hyul was an exceptional knight.

What had drawn his eye more was the group lined up behind him. He'd recognized several of their faces.

'They were supposed to be dead.'

Perry Martinez shook his head, thinking of one old man in particular among them, a man who'd given off a stiff, prickly air.

Negotiation's a lost cause, then.

Muttering quietly to himself, he sat down to write the letter he would send to the King of Lavath.

* * *

A week had passed since they escaped the Jester Demon's lair.

Thankfully, nothing much had happened since.

A few of the expedition members had been on the verge of breaking down, but the high priests dispatched from the Holy Kingdom's capital wielded staggering holy power.

They purified minds and healed bodies in almost no time, then moved straight into investigating the demon's lair, freeing the expedition members from their duties and letting them return to ordinary, peaceful life.

Along with a stern warning never to speak of what had happened.

'Everyone looked pretty unhappy about that.'

Thinking of the Holy Kingdom's request, which bordered on a threat, Airen Farreira nodded.

He understood completely.

People who'd poured so many resources into the dungeon expedition, only to walk away without even the honor of it, of course they'd feel wronged.

Not that it bothered Airen.

He hadn't stood against the demon, hadn't raised his golden sword, in order to gain anything.

'If anything, I gained plenty.'

For one, he'd defeated the Jester Demon, his enemy from his past life.

Peace for the continent mattered, sure, but finishing a personal act of revenge was what actually settled his heart.

His strength had grown too.

Through the bond he'd formed with the man from his past life, his Sorcery Greatsword had grown even more powerful, and through Ignet Crescentia's guidance, he'd laid the groundwork to climb toward an even higher stage.

'Come to think of it, what I gained here is worth a lot more than any share of the dungeon's artifacts would've been.'

Airen let out a breath, finished his musing, and opened his eyes.

Illia Lindsay was there, training hard with her sword. Nothing flashy or sharp about her movements.

Anyone who didn't know better, watching her, might have clicked their tongue and called it clumsy, unimpressive.

But to his eyes, the eyes of an accomplished swordsman and Sorcerer, it looked entirely different.

The Hero's Sword.

No. Watching her melt the Sword of the Heart into her own body, Airen swung his own sword as well.

Whoosh!

Whooosh!

He'd thought this before, but making the Heart Sword completely his own was proving to be an absolutely brutal challenge.

It was like someone who'd never once moved their body due to a disability, now attempting some impossibly difficult maneuver.

Just as a swordsman who could barely sense Aura couldn't juggle Reinforcement, Hardening, Blooming, Concentration, and Manifestation all at once, Airen Farreira kept his training steady and gradual, working to master the Heart Sword the same patient way.

Whoosh!

With one stroke of the sword, he set his heart.

Whooosh!

With a second, he sought harmony between mind and body.

Whoooosh!

Then he added Aura on top of that, and the energy of the Five Elements Divine Technique layered over it.

The completed Metal energy merged with searing Fire Energy, and Airen's sword grew smoother, sharper, little by little.

But as time went on, his expression darkened.

His concentration slipping, the tip of his sword began to waver, and even his once-steady breathing and stance showed faint cracks.

He knew why.

Airen sheathed his sword, sat down on a bench, and looked inward at his own heart.

'I came here to see Ignet.'

That was the truth of it.

The reason he'd come to the central continent was to meet Ignet Crescentia.

He still remembered what she'd said in Derinku, a year and a half ago.

'A green kid, carrying around steel he can't even properly wield.'

She'd been right.

That was why it had stung. Why it made him angrier still.

The moment he'd finished forging his sword through his past life, Ignet's face had come to mind almost instantly, strong enough that he'd felt an urge to go show her how far he'd come.

Airen carried fierce feelings toward her.

Not that he'd shown her nothing, mind you. That wasn't true either.

Unlike before, he hadn't been thrown around by the iron stake. He'd shown her, proudly, the sword he'd raised for himself.

Unlike before, he hadn't shrunk in front of her. He'd shown her, fully, the will he carried.

Seeing the surprise on Ignet's face had given him a small measure of relief, and along with that satisfaction, a bit of confidence too.

Right up until they'd entered the dungeon, that is.

'...Still nowhere near enough.'

Airen closed his eyes.

And the events in the dungeon rose up in his mind, vivid as if they'd just happened.

The blade's aura that had struck the Jester Demon with such devastating force.

The unyielding figure that had single-handedly blocked its terrifying self-destruction.

Even with wounds that should have left an ordinary person unable to so much as rise, even through pain like that, she hadn't lost her dignity, had still offered up her Heart Sword. That image wouldn't leave his mind.

"........."

He knew it was a pointless feeling.

Hadn't Brett said it himself? That heroes have no rankings. That whether strong or weak, simply walking that path had value enough.

...He didn't know. Right now, he just didn't know.

Thinking of how every paladin's gaze in that dungeon had fallen only on Ignet Crescentia, Airen opened his eyes.

And found a familiar face standing in front of him.

"Georgu-ssi."

"It's been a while, Airen."

"........."

"Or, is that a strange thing to say? Still, this is the first greeting we've exchanged since we reunited, so I don't think it's entirely wrong."

Georgu Poive extended a hand politely. Airen Farreira hesitated a moment, then reached out and shook it.

After a firm handshake, Georgu asked if he could sit down beside him, and Airen nodded.

Illia, who had stopped her swordwork, watched the two of them quietly.

It was about a minute later that Georgu finally spoke.

"Could I ask you a favor?"

"...What kind of favor?"

"I'd like to ask what happened during the year and a half since we parted ways."

"........."

"I know it might be a rude question. But I couldn't stand not knowing."

He meant every word.

When they'd first met at the banquet hall, it hadn't been like this.

Airen had grown remarkably strong, and his resolve seemed to have hardened too.

Even their notoriously particular Commander had shown a flicker of interest at the change. But the fierce curiosity burning in Georgu right now came from a different reason entirely.

"The Commander has changed."

"........."

"Just a little, but she's definitely changed. Probably... because of you, Airen Farreira-ssi. Though I don't really understand it."

"Understand what?"

"What it was about you, Airen Farreira-ssi, that affected the Commander. That's what I don't understand."

"........."

"The Commander was always the same, you see. From the moment I first met her, all the way up to now."

Georgu cast his mind back.

Ten years ago, when she'd knocked some sense into him after he'd strutted around like he owned the sky, and now, when she'd become a knight commander of the Holy Kingdom and forced herself to speak in that stiff, old-fashioned way, Ignet had been exactly the same.

Unwavering from the start, as if she'd been complete from the very beginning. Never changing, always racing forward down the one path she'd chosen.

That Commander had changed. Just a little.

Her confident expression was still there, her conviction-filled actions still the same.

But something strange had woven itself into that air around her. Georgu could feel it.

Ignet never so much as looked his way, but he hadn't looked away from her, not once, in ten years.

So it stung a little. Left a bitter taste, too.

He didn't like the fact that it wasn't him, wasn't Anya either, but someone who'd only brushed past her life for the briefest moment, who had left this mark on Ignet.

But still...

'I can't deny that the reason the Commander's heart is slowly opening up, even if it's slow, is thanks to this person.'

That was the reason Georgu had come looking for him.

He fell short of the Commander, not just in skill but in insight too.

He couldn't sense what she'd grasped instantly, so to understand it, he had no choice but to come find the person himself and hear it from him directly.

Without doing even that much, there was no way he'd ever catch up to a Commander racing so far ahead.

"...That's the reason I came looking for you."

Georgu laid his heart bare, honestly.

Airen watched him for a moment, then looked up at the sky.

There was no reason not to help.

They hadn't been bound together under the best circumstances, but most of the awkward feelings from back then had already faded.

Seeing just how large Georgu's feelings for Ignet were, Airen decided he'd share his story, just as Georgu wanted.

But there was something he wanted to ask first.

Looking at the man with a Sorcerer's eyes, Airen opened his mouth.

"I'll tell you."

"Thank..."

"If you tell me what you're hiding first."

"........."

"About Ignet. About the demon. You're hiding something, aren't you?"

A sharp gleam flashed in Airen Farreira's eyes.

A sharper instinct, a keener sixth sense than he'd ever felt before, swept through Georgu's every hidden thought.

Under that gaze, so certain, so piercing, the vice commander of the Black Knight Order broke into a cold sweat.

...He shouldn't say it.

But he couldn't not say it, either.

From the start, Airen's eyes had looked like they already knew everything. The question seemed like nothing more than a formality, a confirmation.

In the end, Georgu Poive let out a sigh and spoke.

"The Holy Kingdom believes... there's a high chance the Jester Demon is still alive."

* * *

Bang.

The meeting room door slammed open. Anger flickered across the faces of several paladins.

This was a gathering of figures so important that even the kingdom's Black Knight Commander had to watch his step around them. And someone had barged in without so much as a knock.

But the ones who'd opened the door carried themselves with confidence.

Two swordsmen who looked barely thirty, and a cat floating through the air.

Among them, the blond young man spoke.

"I heard the Jester Demon isn't dead."

"........."

"I also heard that quite a few demons might be hiding across the continent, and that a subjugation force is being organized to hunt them down."

"So?"

"I'll get straight to the point. Put us on that subjugation force."

"Why?"

The voice wasn't friendly.

Understandable, given the circumstances. Barging in without permission and demanding things like a spoiled child, no one's feelings would be warm about that.

Airen kept his eyes on the bald old man who kept answering him.

'Strong.'

You couldn't judge a swordsman's level purely by their total volume of Aura.

But it was still the most objective measure available, and Airen had already used his Eyes That See Aura to gauge every Aura in the room.

Surprisingly, that old man's Aura outmatched everyone present except Julius Hyul.

'Who is he?'

A face that didn't match any of the continent's ten strongest swordsmen.

And yet an air no less formidable than that of Karakum, the great warrior.

The old man rose from his seat.

Then he spoke.

"Come at me."

"Excuse me?"