Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 206

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Dionysus

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 206: Among Geniuses (2)

──────

What did a swordsman need to do to grow stronger?

That question was easy to answer, especially for someone who had only recently begun learning the sword.

As in most fields, beginners had the greatest room for growth.

Run, and stamina improved. Lift heavy things, and strength increased.

Skilled people were everywhere, making it easy for a novice to seek instruction. Even when a novice simply cleared their mind and followed along, their swordsmanship improved by leaps and bounds.

A novice swordsman who found joy in improving gradually became an experienced swordsman.

But that joy did not last forever.

At some point, the amount of training needed to build stamina and strength increased exponentially.

More and more movements refused to become natural, no matter how many times they were repeated.

Aura, which had once grown as quickly as bamboo, reached a plateau, and controlling it became even more troublesome. It was enough to make one's head feel as though it might split apart.

Everyone went through it.

The untalented. The ordinary. Even geniuses.

The timing and level differed, but stagnation followed every swordsman as inevitably as trials came to heroes.

Despair.

Emptiness.

Frustration.

No matter how hard they struggled, they did not improve. No matter what they tried, nothing got better.

They suffered, neglected food and sleep, and spent all day thinking about the sword, but no answer came. One by one, swordsmen grew exhausted.

Some settled.

Others gave up.

Those who reached their limits brought their long journeys to an end and turned their attention to other things they could do from their current position.

Fwoooosh!

Ignet Crescentia was not one of them.

She possessed talent greater than anyone else's, but even she eventually encountered a period of stagnation.

It was the first wall she had faced, solid and impossible to break through no matter how many tens of thousands of times she swung her sword or how many dozens of days she spent deep in thought.

Still, she did not give up. Ignet did not stop.

As if she had never encountered a wall at all, she continued training every day.

She explored every possibility she could find, examining them one by one as she laid the foundation for a leap forward.

If she had been even slightly lazy.

If she had not long been aware of her own shortcomings, then even after hearing Airen Farreira's story, she would not have gained any enlightenment.

Hummmmmm.

Of course, Ignet was not that kind of person.

Airen's story of growth slowly seeped into her mind, no, into her heart.

It was not a story of his alone. Woven together through trust with precious companions, it broadened the narrow perspective she had held.

Her self-righteous thoughts changed.

The way she saw things, once tainted by distrust, changed as well.

Watching Airen overcome a wall he could never have crossed alone through the strength of his companions, she realized what she herself lacked.

She also remembered the people she had been turning away from.

Georgu Poive.

Anya Marta.

The moment she remembered the two who had always been with her, the flames wrapped around Ignet's body began to change as well.

Hummmmmmmm.

Their strength remained the same.

Just as one could not carelessly look upon a king's face, the light pouring from her was as intense as the sun.

Yet that was not all.

As time passed, the mercilessness that seemed capable of burning everything away faded, and in its place rose a warm, radiant dignity.

It was an aura that enriched all those beneath it, one far closer to a leader than a warrior.

“...”

Airen stared blankly at Ignet.

He did not know what circumstances she had faced or what realization she had attained.

All he could infer was that he had affected her somehow.

Even that filled his chest with no small sense of pride.

Yet a fiercer flame than that, one hotter than the blaze covering Ignet's body, raged in his heart.

He did not want to lose.

He did not want to fall behind.

This had nothing to do with conviction, purpose, or the path of a hero.

It was a thought and a resolve he held purely as Airen Farreira, the swordsman.

‘Someday...’

Whoosh.

Without realizing it, Airen had summoned his sword. He tightened his grip around it, and his gaze sharpened as well.

A deep breath escaped his lips as he continued watching Ignet Crescentia, his goal, devour the darkness.

“...”

Joshua Lindsay also watched Ignet in silence.

It was astonishing. It was not often that one saw a Sword Master gain enlightenment and break through a wall.

Joshua had gained no small amount of inspiration as well, though not as much as she had.

Perhaps tomorrow, he would show himself to the world as an even stronger swordsman.

But he could not think about that now.

His eyes were not those of a swordsman.

They were the eyes of a house head.

No, the eyes of a father.

Those eyes examined Ignet Crescentia and watched Airen Farreira. In fact, they lingered on the latter longer.

A deep, long silence hung around him, around all three of them.

A considerable amount of time passed.

“...”

At last, Ignet Crescentia opened her eyes.

The flames that had enveloped her body had already died down.

But the red gleam in her eyes told them one thing.

The Ignet before enlightenment and the Ignet after it were completely different beings.

Joshua Lindsay, who understood that better than anyone, spoke.

“Commander.”

“Speak, House Head.”

“Congratulations on your achievement.”

“Thank you.”

A dry congratulations and brief thanks were exchanged. It could not be helped.

They were still awkward with each other, and they would probably never grow close for the rest of their lives.

Ignet turned her head. Then she saw Airen.

His eyes were blazing.

He gripped a greatsword, though she had no idea when he had drawn it, and stared at her without any intention of hiding his feelings.

Ignet suddenly found herself in a good mood and laughed.

Still smiling, she looked straight at Airen and said,

“Airen.”

“...”

“Join the subjugation force within three years.”

“...”

“Why aren't you saying anything? Don't tell me you're not confiden...”

“One year.”

Airen cut her off. It was rude behavior, not something he should have shown the commander of the knight order in Abilius, the strongest nation on the continent.

But Ignet did not call him out on it.

Still wearing a delighted smile, Ignet looked at him as Airen spoke again with conviction.

“Within one year, I'll earn Kun's recognition and return.”

* * *

Click.

Thud.

A little past midnight.

Joshua Lindsay, the head of House Lindsay, returned to his room and quietly sat in a chair in the dark.

There was no need to light a lamp. Closing his eyes, he recalled the events of the day.

His unexpected spar with Ignet Crescentia.

Her skill, which had exceeded his expectations, and her story, which he had not cared about at first, but had ultimately found himself absorbed in.

Then there was Airen Farreira's story.

And Ignet's awakening that followed.

“Whew...”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Joshua let out a sigh.

His chest felt stifled.

As a senior swordsman, seeing a junior's growth, especially that of a junior who would leave her name in history, could not help but be welcome.

At least, that was how the swordsman in him felt.

But the man who had stood in the training ground just before had not been a swordsman.

He had been a father who had lost his son.

Nothing more than a weak and inadequate head of a household who wanted to find some fault with an opponent he could not even blame.

That was why, seeing Ignet grow with such astonishing speed, faster than words could describe, he could not simply feel happy.

The problem was that there was not just one such genius.

‘Airen Farreira.’

He had already thought the young man was remarkable.

At only twenty-three, he had reached the realm of a Sword Master, no, something beyond that.

He stood above even Sevion Brooks, Phalanke's finest knight, so Airen could no longer be called someone at the beginning of the Master rank.

But...

‘He was far, far more incredible than I thought.’

He remembered something from more than ten years ago.

The sight of Ignet challenging House Lindsay before she was even twenty had been nothing short of shocking.

Who could dare stand against someone so full of confidence, someone who had rendered even his own son unable to rise again?

At least among her generation, Joshua had believed she would have no rival.

But that was not the case.

This time, his memories turned to Airen.

The young man had not been intimidated even by the heavy atmosphere of the Purification Order.

He had not yielded beneath Joshua's fierce pressure, instead burning his will even more fiercely.

Seeing a young man whose influence was so powerful that he could awaken even Ignet Crescentia, whom Joshua had thought complete from an early age, Joshua could not help worrying about his daughter.

“...”

Carl Lindsay had been blocked by the wall known as the genius Ignet, and he could no longer move forward.

Ignet still stood before Illia Lindsay as well. No, Ignet Crescentia, now even stronger than she had been back then, stood before her.

And as if that were not enough, there was Airen Farreira, who possessed talent, persistence, and passion that rivaled hers.

Would she be all right?

Could she truly be all right?

Joshua's expression twisted.

Cracks formed in his ever-stern face, and though it was only a little, moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes.

He had not seen Illia for the past two years, but before that, he had watched her more closely than anyone.

Whenever he saw his daughter carry a burden too heavy for her to bear, whenever he saw her gradually lose her smile, he could not help remembering his son, who had broken down and been ruined.

What should he do?

He asked himself, but no answer came. Joshua was an experienced swordsman, but not an experienced father.

Amid the growing storm of emotions, his fist clenched again.

Blood fell from his palm to the floor, drip, drip.

That was when he heard it.

Knock, knock.

There was only the sound of knocking, but he knew at once. His daughter had come to visit.

Joshua quickly wiped the blood from the floor and his hand, then composed his expression.

He remembered the face of his own father, who had always watched over him with such dependable strength when he was young.

Then he copied it.

After checking the mirror, he thought,

‘This should be enough.’