WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 54

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Sword in Hand (3)

When the deep, powerful storm of realization passed, Airen Farreira slowly and carefully checked over his own body.

He moved his arms and legs, jogged in place, swung his sword lightly. He focused on his eyes and ears, gauging how far his senses had risen.

The result told him something clear.

His body had grown to a level that couldn't even be compared to before.

'This reminds me of my time at Krono Fencing Hall.'

He'd gone through something similar back then too. The miracle that arrived right before the Mid-Term Evaluation had lifted his body, once nearly a Failure Student's, all the way to the top ranks.

'How far exactly, though?'

Airen planted his sword in the ground and crossed his arms, thinking.

Master level?

Definitely not that.

No matter how much he'd grown, there was no way he'd reached a level held by maybe a hundred people across the entire continent.

That would be arrogance, overconfidence.

But he'd earned enough to feel real confidence in himself.

At the very least, he didn't think his shoulders would slump in front of anyone anymore.

No, more than that, he wanted to show it off. Wanted to brag about it.

It felt strange to catch himself thinking that way, but... well, it was true. Nothing to be done about it.

"Ah."

A good idea came to him just then.

He clapped his hands and stared into empty air. A sharp will of his painted itself thickly over part of the world formed by Sorcery, and a change followed.

Shhhk.

Shk.

Shhk.

Like paint spreading across a canvas, Illia Lindsay, Judith, and Brett Lloyd took shape before him.

Airen Farreira looked at them and said, calm.

"Let's spar."

"With me? Or her? Or maybe..."

"Not one at a time. All three of you, together."

"...Ha!"

Judith turned to Illia, an incredulous look on her face.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. He's changed."

"Right? He used to be so humble. Got a real attitude on him now."

"Who's calling who out for having an attitude?"

"You shut up."

Judith shot Brett a scowl before turning her attention back forward.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

If anything, her face said she liked it.

She smirked and raised her sword, and the two beside her fell into stance to match.

"Still, I don't hate the attitude, if I'm honest."

"Thanks for putting it nicely."

"Whatever, hurry up and draw your sword already. Tired of waiting."

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm dying to know myself."

She was right.

He'd moved his body a little already, tested things out, but that alone wasn't enough. He needed an actual opponent.

Airen Farreira took a slow breath, raised his sword, and thought.

'This won't be easy, will it?'

The kids standing before him now weren't at their Krono Fencing Hall level anymore. They were putting out a pressure far more brutal than that.

Of course, that was because of him. His own desire to face a stronger opponent had drastically amplified their presence.

But still.

'I don't think I'll lose.'

Fwaak!

Something shifted in Airen Farreira's eyes.

The flat, even aura around him hardened into something so dense not even a needle could slip through.

Like a giant cast from molten iron, standing there.

Judith watched with an excited look on her face, while Brett moved with careful, deliberate steps.

Illia kept her cool eyes trained on her opponent too.

Toward all three of them,

Whoosh.

Airen moved first.

Kwaaang!

Sword met sword. While Judith staggered back, struggling to hold her ground, the other two took the flanks.

A perfectly coordinated mid-level strike came in, radiating a chilling kind of pressure.

It wasn't the sort of atmosphere you'd expect from friends sparring, brutal, almost hostile. And yet all three of them wore smiles.

Airen was the same.

His face stayed cold, like an iron mask, but there was a flicker of joy mixed into his heart too.

Long forgotten by now, but this was the same feeling he'd briefly felt during the Mid-Term Evaluation.

A flame far brighter and healthier than anger, regret, or self-loathing.

Airen swung his sword in a trance, faintly aware of that warmth.

Some time later, it was decided.

"Haah... that was rough."

Having beaten back three formidable opponents by the narrowest of margins, he crawled toward his bed as if pulled by something, and dropped straight into sleep.

Gwiiing...!

Meanwhile.

An enormous iron gate, one he'd never seen before, began to slowly rise up from the center of the Otherworldly Realm.

* * *

"So this is the exit?"

By the time Airen Farreira woke and stepped out into the yard, the iron gate had already fully revealed itself.

He nodded at the sight.

By his own judgment, it was about time to leave.

If asked whether he was perfect now, he couldn't nod yes. But if asked whether he'd taken up his own sword, he'd earned an answer worth a yes.

"So the question is how to open this door..."

The door had no handle, no keyhole, not even the thinnest gap. Sealed shut.

And planted in front of it stood a crude, roughly shaped greatsword.

Not the training sword he'd been using. But it was familiar.

Recognizing what it was, the young man murmured, lost in thought.

"The Man in the Dream's sword..."

It was almost funny.

He'd entered this strange world to build up his own sword.

In other words, it could be seen as a resolve to stop chasing someone else's path.

Even the fact that he'd stopped dreaming of the man each night, dreams he'd had constantly before entering this world, could be traced back to that same resolve.

And now, of all things, the man's sword showed up right in front of him.

Not just showed up, either. It stood squarely blocking the door, as if daring him to use it as the "key" needed to get out.

Absurd, to say the least.

'That's what I would've thought, back then.'

Airen nodded.

His old self would have thought exactly that, no question.

But not now. There was no reason to run from it.

He strode forward, gripped the handle of the man's sword, and,

Kreeeeak!

pulled it free with a forceful tug. He swung it around a few times, testing the feel.

Hwoong.

Hwooong!

"Guess it's because I'm taller now. Fits my hand perfectly."

Running through the forms he'd learned at Krono Fencing Hall, Airen recalled the advice the Hall Master had once given him.

Build your own conviction, build your own will, come to understand your own path. And from that, build your own sword.

He'd misunderstood the meaning of those words once.

He used to think that building his own sword meant nothing of anyone else's could be allowed to mix in, that only something woven purely from his own self could count as truly his.

There had been a time he'd believed that.

But it wasn't true.

Just as he'd overcome pain through his family's love.

Just as he'd shaken off doubt through his friends' trust.

The man's sword, too, he could simply accept, and that would be enough.

'As long as I don't get swept up in it, as long as I can keep building my own will...'

If it was himself, not the man, gripping the man's sword and swinging it,

then it was his sword.

Murmuring that to himself, Airen Farreira lifted the greatsword high into the sky.

Wuuuum!

The same stance the boy had shown during the Final Evaluation at Krono Fencing Hall.

But if the sword back then had been the man's swordsmanship, carried out by the man's will, this time it wasn't that.

The man's swordsmanship, carried out by Airen Farreira's will.

In other words, Airen Farreira's sword.

It came crashing down, carrying tremendous force.

Kwagagagagagagagang!

A sound as massive as if dozens of thunderclaps had struck at once.

And with it, the iron gate that had seemed like it would never open, opened. Or more precisely, it shattered.

And then, a breeze completely different from anything in this place began slowly seeping in.

Outside air.

No, not outside. The air of the place where he actually lived.

Feeling it for the first time in what felt like forever, the young man walked forward as if pulled by something. To leave this place.

To show the world the results he'd earned after enduring so much time, so much patience.

"...Wait."

But just as he was about to step past the iron gate.

Airen stopped.

He went further than stopping. He turned his body fully around and walked back into the yard.

A brief silence, then a moment of thought.

Then he murmured to himself.

"Illia, Judith, Brett,"

Shhhk.

Shk.

Shhk.

No, it wasn't really talking to himself.

The three kids appeared again.

Judith, wearing the most visibly annoyed expression of the three, spoke first.

"What. Why'd you call us again?"

"Felt a bit sorry to leave without saying more."

"What? What are you talking about. Have you lost it?"

"Don't tell me you missed us? Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really Brett Lloyd, just an illusion made from your will..."

"No, that's not it."

Airen Farreira cut Brett off. Everyone waited, curious, for what came next.

He gave them an awkward smile and answered.

"Before I go, I want to take your swords with me."

"..."

Take your swords.

That obviously didn't mean giving up his own sword.

If anything, it was the opposite.

He meant borrowing their swordsmanship to make his own sword and will even stronger, sharper.

Just like he'd borrowed the man's sword a moment ago.

"Ha."

Hearing that, Judith let out a hollow laugh.

The other two reacted much the same.

Shaking her head, Judith looked at Brett and said,

"Told you, right? He's definitely got an attitude now."

"Yeah, guess so."

"Right?"

Even Illia Lindsay agreed.

Of course, that was just talk. In practice, all three of them helped Airen with everything they had. This place existed for his growth, after all.

Ten more days passed like that.

And Airen Farreira's sword evolved further still.

Kwaang!

Kwaang!

Kwaaang!

Judith's swordsmanship, fierce as flame, intense enough to make anyone watching go weak in the knees.

Teong.

Teoong!

Brett Lloyd's swordsmanship, vast as the sea, able to absorb and deflect any attack thrown at it.

Sharrak.

And Illia Lindsay's Sky Sword, beautiful yet threatening, like a butterfly with wings of steel calling forth a storm.

Having taken in all of it, the young man finally wore a satisfied expression.

He spoke to his three friends.

"Alright, I'm heading out."

Airen Farreira, truly walking out through the door this time.

Shrrrr...

And Illia Lindsay, Judith, and Brett Lloyd slowly faded along with the Otherworldly Realm.

The young man didn't look back at them.

He'd see them again soon enough, after all.

Not right away, of course.

'Mother, Father, and Kiril.'

Remembering the reason he'd taken up the sword, he walked through the dark tunnel, now noticeably taller than before.

One step, two steps.

About a hundred steps like that.

Less than a minute passed, and the moment he stepped into the glowing white oval portal ahead of him,

Shwoosh!

Airen Farreira finally returned to his own home.

No longer a boy, fully grown into a young man now.

* * *

"Still the same?"

The first thing the young man felt, looking at his own room, was that nothing had changed since before he'd awakened his Sorcery.

The floor was still spotless.

Every corner of the room still carried the warmth of someone living in it.

It felt like walking into a room someone had been living in the whole time.

Of course, that couldn't have been true.

Airen Farreira's eyes reddened slightly.

'They must have kept taking care of it this whole time.'

He had no idea exactly how much time had passed. He'd only counted the days up to a hundred.

But at least two years, probably more.

Thinking of his family, who must have looked after this room for him through all that time, he felt happy and sorry all at once.

'I need to see my parents as soon as possible!'

He was walking toward the door with that thought in mind when he heard it.

A faint rustling sound from under the bed.

Airen Farreira, with his sharp hearing, lowered his stance quickly and said,

"Lulu?"

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