WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 30

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The Calm Before the Storm (2)

Why was that girl here? That was Judith's first thought.

Illia only ever showed up to check on Airen once in a while. The rest of the time she stayed alone in the small training ground. It was strange to see her elsewhere.

But that thought didn't last long.

Illia's presence kept growing heavier.

Crack.

Judith clenched her jaw. She twisted her expression and ground her teeth, and that was the only reason she managed to hold back a groan.

But that was all she could manage.

Frozen in place, the red haired girl had no choice but to stand there and listen as Illia, who'd closed the distance without a sound, spoke.

"I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you talk trash about me, or look down on my house."

"Whatever people like you say behind my back, none of it touches me."

"That's right. None of it touches me. I'm taking first place again this time. Just like last time. Just like I always will."

"My house's swordsmanship? I don't need it. What I've learned here, at Krono Fencing Hall, is already enough to..."

"...prove I'm ahead of all of you. That's an easy thing to show."

Her tone was as quiet as ever.

But the content was impossible to brush off.

Still, no one spoke up against the silver haired girl's words.

A few of the trainees liked to gossip about Illia Lindsay behind her back, but even they went mute now, unable to get a single word out.

Judith couldn't even manage to feel angry about that.

Because she was the same. No different from the rest of them.

'Damn it!'

She wanted to say something, loud and clear.

She wanted to scream, who the hell do you think you are, don't talk that big, let's see it at the Final Evaluation, I'll drag your precious House Lindsay's name through the dirt.

But the words wouldn't come out.

Crunch.

Judith bit down inside her own mouth.

The soft flesh split, and blood welled up. Not enough to run, but enough to leave a salty taste behind.

The sharp pain that followed came a beat late. The girl felt something like venom, something she'd been lacking, filling back up inside her.

She came back to herself and drew in a sharp breath.

She was about to open her mouth, late as it was, to hurl some curse at the insufferable noble girl, when.

"Enough."

A boy stepped between the two of them. Brett Lloyd.

His calm tone, fitting for that blue hair of his, loosened the tension that had drawn taut between them.

Judith, of course, didn't care.

"Don't butt in, get lo..."

"If this gets any bigger, you'll both get expelled."

Brett looked at Judith, then at Illia Lindsay, and tilted his head.

Toward where two of the assistant instructors stood. Illia noticed their watchful eyes and let her pressure drop.

Judith exhaled hard and shut her mouth too. Though the resentment in her eyes didn't fade.

The silver haired girl didn't return her stare.

Her face went blank, as if she'd never been angry in the first place. She walked off, unbothered, like nothing had happened.

Judith watched her turn and disappear, trembling all over. There was nothing else she could do.

"House Lindsay's swordsmanship."

Brett Lloyd spoke up again.

His voice was louder than before. And carried a faint edge of excitement it hadn't had a moment ago.

Illia's steps stopped. Even she couldn't say why. It just felt like she had to.

With her back turned, standing still, Brett's voice kept coming.

"Four hundred years ago, it got its name from taking down the demon lord who ruled the skies, the demon dragon king, right? The Sky Sword."

"...And?"

"I want to see it. How amazing it really is."

"Not happening."

"Shame. If you don't want to, I won't force you. But keep this in mind."

Brett paused for a moment, then kept going.

"If you don't show me the Sky Sword, I'll be the one taking first place."

"..."

Illia Lindsay didn't answer. She stood frozen for a few seconds, then walked on.

Back toward where she'd been.

But that didn't mean she'd fully ignored what Brett said.

For the first time in a long while, someone else had lit a small flame inside her.

Of course, right now, the person burning hottest was Judith.

She'd stood there blank for a moment, and now she spoke, breath ragged.

"Hah, that, damn, hah, bastard, gah, I swear, I'm gonna wreck him!"

"Talk straight. And you were in the wrong here."

"I wasn't... that guy either... no, wait... hah, just shut up!"

"Sure."

"Hey!"

Leaving Judith to rage on, unable to calm herself down, Brett lifted his sword.

He looked composed enough, but his heart was pounding far faster than usual.

* * *

The clash between Illia Lindsay, Judith, and Brett Lloyd spread through the trainees fast.

Illia's bold declaration spread right along with it, of course.

Surprisingly, not many were angry about it.

They already knew. However much this place was a battlefield of endless competition, first place had already been decided.

Surpassing House Lindsay, clearing a wall set before you were even born, was simply impossible.

All they could do was mutter about it in the shadows where no one could hear.

A bitter reality.

'I'll be the one taking first place.'

But after Brett's words, something changed in the kids.

A boy with talent rare enough to be counted on one hand.

But also a thoroughgoing realist who never dared to reach for the very top.

And that boy had thrown down a challenge to someone standing above the clouds.

It managed to drag the trainees' long-buried pride back up to the surface.

'I didn't come here to lose!'

That was right.

No one had come here to lose to someone else.

Not simply to survive.

The trainees had come here to become the finest swordsmen alive.

Something they'd forgotten for a long while, Brett Lloyd had reminded them of.

Judith had reminded them too. By standing toe to toe with Illia Lindsay.

'More, I can do more!'

'Just surviving the Final Evaluation isn't enough!'

'I'll win! If it's an epiphany through sword dance, I've got a real shot too!'

'Somehow, I'll win!'

Every set of eyes had changed.

The trainees, once beaten down and worn out, chasing something beyond mere realistic goals, had gone back to how they were before the world crushed them.

The heat rolling off them now was nothing like before. It made a mockery of winter itself.

And among them, the one burning hottest was the cool haired eldest son of House Lloyd.

'Can I actually do it?'

After the clash with Illia Lindsay, he'd asked himself that.

Was it possible. Could he really keep the words he'd said.

After thinking it through, the conclusion he landed on was, it's worth a try.

Ever since the Hall Master's teaching, he'd grown.

His once-narrow view had widened, and his once-rigid thinking had loosened.

Because of that, he'd absorbed and digested the strengths of countless people, made them his own.

Even that vicious Judith was beneath him now.

'...I'm burning.'

On top of that, a fighting spirit had taken root in him.

Honestly, he'd never much cared for words like competitiveness, rivalry, fighting spirit.

He'd thought those hot, excited feelings only clouded cool judgment, only got in the way of growing thoroughly and efficiently.

But he didn't think that way anymore.

He hadn't seen the future, but Brett already understood, deep in his gut, just how explosive the power was that this fire blazing in his chest could pull out of him.

"Brett! About this part..."

"You smug bastard! Spar with me!"

"Lloyd-nim? In a case like this, what would be the best..."

Brett Lloyd wasn't the only one who noticed the fire in him.

The other trainees noticed it too, the way he shone. They couldn't help it.

Right now, Brett really was dazzling enough to make you squint.

Before long, a crowd of kids had gathered around him.

It was different from Illia, the other genius.

Where she built walls and walked her own path alone, Brett took everyone in.

He gave help, and he took it. The bright, heated atmosphere around him kept growing, spreading through the whole fencing hall.

Two months passed like that.

Brett realized he'd grown, clearly and certainly.

'Not bad.'

People who didn't know him well called him arrogant.

But that wasn't it.

As the eldest son of House Lloyd, he simply knew his own standing well.

There was no reason to needlessly talk himself down when he was better than most people around him.

That was exactly why he'd never once thought of challenging Illia Lindsay before. She stood above him. That was simply how things were.

But now, the framework of the world he'd built for himself was starting to crack, little by little.

'Nothing's set in stone. Even someone I thought was worse than me could surpass me.

Judith could. Even Airen Farreira could grow stronger than me.'

And if that was true, then he could surpass Illia Lindsay too.

Filled with confidence, he looked, quite literally, as bright as the sun.

Of course.

"Hm."

Light didn't reach every corner.

However brilliant the sun was, there were still shadows. And people who lived their lives in those dark, deep places.

Right now, that was Airen Farreira.

After Brett's declaration, interest in the lazy lord had actually cooled off even more.

The trainees had written him off completely as competition.

No one doubted he'd pass, given his overwhelming potential.

But it was also true that his current skill was still far behind everyone else's.

In a real sparring match, there wasn't a single trainee in B-Class or above who couldn't beat him.

He might even lose to a few in C-Class. That was the general verdict on Airen.

In short, he was both acknowledged and dismissed at the same time.

Everyone knew his future would shine. But his current, visible skill dimmed that light.

Because of it, in a competitive arena burning hotter than ever, Airen Farreira had become something like an isolated island, cut off from everyone else.

But that was fine with him.

The lazy lord actually welcomed the current mood.

No epiphany through sword dance like everyone else had gotten. Barely swinging his sword at all. Pouring the time he saved into meditation that might look completely pointless to anyone watching. And nobody paying him the slightest attention through any of it. All of that suited him just fine.

There was no better environment for quiet focus than this.

In that calm, settled atmosphere, Airen Farreira, who'd been lying on a bench, sat up.

And picked up his wooden sword.

He wasn't about to train his body.

He was just changing his method of meditation.

He held the stance for about thirty minutes, then opened his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, this is it."

His voice was full of certainty.

That wasn't like him.

The lazy lord had never been confident. Never been sure of anything.

For someone experiencing everything for the first time, saying something was simply 'right' with this much conviction was genuinely unusual.

That was how good the feeling was.

Airen thought quietly to himself.

'What I wanted to recreate wasn't the dream. It was the man in the dream.'

If what mattered was the old house he'd seen in the dream, the modest yard, the scattered weeds, even the wind blowing through, then lying down to meditate would have been the right choice.

But that wasn't it. What the boy wanted to resemble was the man himself, purely and completely, and that man's sword.

If that was true, he needed a posture closer to how the man had actually looked. He needed to meditate holding a sword.

But that alone didn't complete the picture.

'I need something more.'

The direction was right.

But it wasn't enough on its own. He felt like he needed something more to reach the point he was aiming for.

Of course, mulling it over right now wouldn't get him anywhere.

Knocking impatiently wouldn't open the door, it would just leave his knuckles sore.

Letting go of the obsession, Airen picked up his sword again.

And just as he was about to sink into meditation.

"Don't tell me, that's meditation too?"

A voice came from behind him, and the boy opened his eyes.

He checked who it was, then spoke, his voice calm and even.

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