WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 63

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Sword That Severs Demons (1)

Airen Farreira had been having the strange dream since he was fifteen.

A yard with an old, worn fence, and inside it a mysterious man swinging his sword without rest.

It was a bizarre thing to witness, but at some point it had simply become routine.

Of course, during the five years he'd spent striving to take up his own sword, the dream had never come.

But since the night he emerged from the Otherworldly Realm, the mysterious man had returned, and as recently as yesterday he'd still been swinging his sword with the same tireless devotion.

This time was no different.

The familiar view, the familiar scent, the familiar figure.

Then the same stubborn training began, as always.

Airen Farreira, now a twenty-one-year-old man, had watched this scene more times than he could count.

He'd watched it idly. He'd watched it closely.

There had even been a time, outside the dream, when he'd been obsessed with this very hour of the day. Not anymore, though.

So he could tell.

A faint difference.

A difference so small that no one but him would ever have noticed it, Airen had been able to pick out ever since the dream had begun, about an hour in.

The eyes.

Eyes.

To some, merely an organ for seeing.

To others, a mirror reflecting the heart.

For Airen, it was the latter.

The faint emotion he felt from the man's gaze raised a question mark in his mind.

Why does he look angry?

This was a man who had never once, not in all this time, shown any emotion.

He had simply repeated the same motions, silent and expressionless, as though swinging a sword were his life's entire purpose.

The same day, over and over.

And now, out of nowhere, he was showing anger?

Unable to believe it, Airen kept his focus locked on the man. He watched nothing but those eyes.

It was certain.

Only the faintest trace, but the man was, without question, angry.

...And then the dream ended.

"Hey, move it, move it!"

"We got enough supplies?"

"Let's hurry up and get the meal ready."

The bustling voices of soldiers handling odd jobs.

The young man realized he was back in reality.

Normally he would have gotten straight up and started moving.

Even without a full training session, loosening up muscles and joints stiffened overnight mattered.

But Airen stayed lying down a little longer.

Eyes closed again, he thought.

Until now, every time the dream changed, something significant had happened.

That much was certain.

The moment he'd gained the ability to keep his own sense of self inside the dream, his sword training had gained real momentum. And the moment the man had turned to look at him, he'd been pulled, without even realizing it, into the Otherworldly Realm.

Given that history, something would probably change this time too.

Or maybe... the change had already happened.

Airen turned yesterday over carefully in his mind.

Something had definitely felt off.

The performance he'd shown had exceeded even what he'd gained from the Otherworldly Realm.

And despite pulling off such an incredible feat, one that raised his house's honor, he'd stayed weighed down the whole time. That, too, was strange.

Of course, it was such a small thing that it might just be his imagination.

"...Enough."

Shaking his head firmly, Airen Farreira rose to his feet.

The changed dream.

It deserved his attention, but there was something more important right now. The Demonoid Subjugation Campaign.

He'd earned recognition even from the Twilight Knights' vice commander, but he was still an inexperienced novice at heart.

He had to keep that in mind, always.

Focus.

Don't let his guard down.

Resolving this in his heart, he got up.

Then he stretched, slowly and thoroughly.

"Morning, young master. Sleep well?"

"That was amazing yesterday, seriously!"

Unlike the first day, several of the Twilight Knights spoke to him first.

Plenty of others looked like they wanted to talk to him too.

He greeted them all with an easy smile, then glanced toward his father.

He caught sight of a smile even wider than his own.

Airen smiled a little wider himself, then went to receive his rations like everyone else.

Sssss...

And there it was again, the necklace darkening.

His good mood soured.

It seemed this malice would keep coming until the subjugation campaign ended.

Just in case. They might try something other than poison to mess with him.

He resolved to be even more careful, and while he waited for the detox to finish, he felt something on his head.

Startled, Airen quickly reached up and snatched it down.

Then he snorted a laugh.

[There's poison in it again this time! Seriously terrible people! Always be careful!]

Still the same crooked handwriting.

His mood, which had been sitting at rock bottom, climbed a little.

Guess I'm not completely alone in this.

Whoever you are, thank you. I'll stay on guard.

Muttering to himself, Airen waited for the detox to finish, then ate his meal with bigger, more deliberate motions than usual. As if to make sure someone was watching.

And someone was. Jack Steward's expression had gone rigid as he watched, when Phil Gairon sidled up beside him and whispered.

"This one actually worked, right?"

"At the very least, the poison went in. Enough that an ordinary person would spend three days and nights with diarrhea and end up completely drained..."

"You said the same thing yesterday! So why is he still fine?"

"...If it doesn't work this time either, I suspect he might be carrying an artifact that blocks poison."

"Damn it, damn it! He's got two high-grade artifacts that even I, Viscount Gairon, don't have? That's insane! Is it that bastard sister of his again?"

Eyes bloodshot, Gairon spat as he cursed House Farreira.

Spit landed on Jack Steward's face too.

Not letting it show, Jack simply endured as Gairon left with one last order.

Do whatever it takes to hold that brat back.

Once he confirmed Gairon had left, Jack Steward belatedly pulled out a handkerchief.

He didn't like this.

Not the spit on his cheek, but the fact that he was expected to harm someone who'd come on this same campaign, fighting alongside them.

* * *

The second day of the Demonoid Subjugation Campaign's march went far more smoothly than expected.

Nothing like yesterday's sudden crisis occurred.

Maybe it was because two ambitious ambushes had already failed, but the monsters were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, only a handful of low-intelligence monsters occasionally acted up.

There was no need for Hill Burnett or Airen Farreira to step in.

The creatures fell, bleeding out in buckets, under the blades of the Twilight Knights.

Watching this, Airen's face went somewhat pale.

"You don't look well. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Hearing the answer, Hill Burnett nodded. It probably didn't seem like anything serious.

After all, Airen had stayed calm even facing a massive monster yesterday, so there was no reason he'd suddenly feel squeamish about killing now.

But that was exactly what was happening.

An instinctive revulsion toward slaughter.

Airen felt it rising up inside him and was thrown off balance.

Why am I like this?

Of course it would be natural to feel this way if he weren't used to such situations, but he'd been fine yesterday. So why now?

He spent the second day carrying that question with him, and once again dreamed the dream. The dream of the man, quietly seething with anger.

Then the third day of the campaign began.

Airen Farreira once again put on an incredible display.

"I sense a demonic aura over there. There's probably a trap."

"Monsters approaching from the left. I'll handle it."

It started the moment they entered the forest believed to hold the demonoid's stronghold.

Airen felt the change in his body come over him once again.

Astonishingly calm.

And yet unbelievably sharp.

His senses were so keen that he noticed the monsters' tricks and prepared for them even before the necklace his sister had given him could.

His sword showed no mercy either.

Watching him cut down enemies without hesitation, the vice commander wore a satisfied smile.

Gairon, meanwhile, was burning up inside, though he couldn't let it show.

With Airen Farreira's efforts keeping the casualty count at zero, there was no room to display any dislike toward him.

All Gairon could do was glare at Jack Steward with smoldering eyes.

But there was nothing Jack Steward could do either.

No, to begin with, he had no desire to do something that filthy to a swordsman who had grown into someone this fine.

He may be the eldest son of a rival house, but I'm still a knight, aren't I!

In truth, they weren't even rival houses. Phil Gairon simply hated the Farreiras unilaterally.

Jack Steward's expression darkened further.

With this many different people moving along, each carrying their own thoughts, they eventually reached the demonoid's stronghold.

A cave with a wide entrance, as though space itself had been artificially warped to form it.

Twilight Knights vice commander Hill Burnett spoke to Airen Farreira.

"Let's take the lead together."

It was an obvious call. Putting the strongest fighter in the subjugation force, and the one most sensitive to demonic auras, at the front made perfect sense.

No one objected, no one asked why such a heavy task was being handed to a novice.

By now, the entire subjugation force had come to see Airen Farreira not as some young upstart but as a genuine powerhouse.

"Yes, Commander."

Airen had no reason to refuse either.

The change that had unsettled him at first now felt, if anything, welcome.

Senses honed sharp, reason kept ice cold.

Confidence surged through him, the sense that whatever tricks the enemy tried, he could handle all of it.

The two of them strode confidently into the cave. Behind them, over a hundred members of the subjugation force followed.

About a minute in, as they walked through the dark space relying on magical light, it happened.

♩♪ ♬♩♪

Music, suddenly audible.

Everyone's footsteps stopped at once. Instruments playing in a place that had no business hosting them, it could hardly be otherwise.

Faces creased faintly with confusion.

"A string instrument... a violin?"

"I think I hear a piano too..."

Those with some ear for music picked out the instruments, and those without simply listened quietly.

The longer they listened, the less bad it seemed. Before long, they'd closed their eyes and started taking in the melody.

♩♪ ♬♩♪

"Not bad."

"They're pretty skilled."

As the melody continued, the tension in people's faces eased.

Some offered serious commentary on the performance, some stayed silent, focused entirely on the music.

Others were free with their praise.

What they all had in common was that, without realizing it, they were each inching forward, little by little.

One step, two steps, three steps.

As they advanced, the tempo began to quicken bit by bit, and the pace of the subjugation force quickened along with it, however slightly.

And just as everyone kept walking forward, forward.

"Hah!"

BOOM!

Hill Burnett shouted loudly.

A pressure wave burst out with his kiai, spreading across a wide radius, and the subjugation force snapped back to their senses.

Then they were shocked.

They'd only just realized that, until a moment ago, they hadn't been in their right minds.

"Everyone all right?"

"Yes, yes!"

"We're fine!"

"If anyone nearby still hasn't come to, shake them hard. Airen Farreira, you're fine, obviously?"

"I'm fine."

Airen nodded. He was one of the few people, alongside Hill Burnett, who hadn't been swallowed by the mind control.

At that moment, in the open chamber at the end of the corridor, a woman playing the piano rose from her seat.

Her black dress and long black hair drew everyone's eyes.

The skeleton soldiers standing around her also came into view.

They held string instruments in their hands.

"Guests have arrived. Welcome."

Aside from her entirely red eyes, she looked no different from a human.

Hill Burnett spoke in a low voice.

"...This demonoid is far stronger than we expected."

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