WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

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◈ The Pushover Young Lord in a Romance Fantasy Won't Take It Anymore ◈

Chapter 3: I Don't Feel Particularly Sorry to You

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"...Well, this is unexpected."

Father replied, then nodded.

Neither of us had anything else to say. He was a man of few words, after all.

I stepped into the middle of the training ground and lightly swung my real sword.

Whoosh!

The blade sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.

'It still doesn't feel familiar in my hand.'

In my first timeline, I had swung a sword hundreds to tens of millions of times as I crossed the line between life and death.

I had only recently far surpassed the realm of a Swordmaster.

Still, it wasn't worth worrying about.

There was nothing physically wrong with me, and swordsmanship depended far more on understanding and experience than the body.

"All right, then."

The apprentice knights stood there, bristling with hostility.

I pointed my sword at each of them in turn.

"Who's first?"

"I'll go!"

"No, I'll be the Young Lord's first opponent!"

"Get out of the way!"

The apprentice knights standing in formation eagerly raised their hands.

That only lasted a moment before they began fiercely shoving one another over who would go first.

This was their chance to legally beat the hell out of that scoundrel.

Their intentions were all too obvious. It was a murderous sight.

"You lot really fucking hated me."

No one denied it. That stung.

Once again, I realized just how horribly I had lived.

After a long scuffle, a large man at the front stepped forward.

He looked like one of the more experienced apprentices.

"Look at you, all proud. So you've got some experience under your belt?"

"I'm Garten, leader of the first squad."

"Looks like neither of us has anything more to say. Don't go easy on me just because I'm the young lord. Give it your best."

"Don't regret it, Young Lord."

Ting!

A coin flew into the air and fell to the ground.

Thud!

Garten kicked off the dirt and lunged.

His bear-like bulk closed the distance in an instant.

Whoosh!

His real sword carved a vicious arc through the air.

It was a movement and strike unbefitting an apprentice knight.

Still, it looked slow and obvious to me.

Without moving from where I stood, I lightly twisted my wrist.

Clang!

I deflected Garten's sword at an angle.

A sharp vibration ran through my grip. I had nearly dropped my sword.

'What a difference in strength.'

I felt it from the first exchange.

If I tried to match his strength head-on, the damage would only build up in my wrist.

When a knight's sword seemed slow, it wasn't actually slow. It was heavy.

For now, defense was the only answer. I had to redirect his strength and let it flow away.

"Kh...!"

Clang! Clang! Claang!

Garten's sword came crashing down again and again.

Three exchanges, five, seven.

I countered with only the smallest movements.

The training ground rang with nothing but metal striking metal.

Then came the tenth exchange.

Garten attempted an overhead slash, and his center of gravity tipped forward.

I drew a short horizontal cut. A simple strike without much force behind it.

Claang!!

They said accuracy beat power. They were absolutely right.

"Urgh?!"

Garten's sword flew from his grasp. He cried out and fell backward.

The sword spun through the air before plunging into the dirt.

"....."

Garten stared blankly down at his hands.

Once he finally understood what had happened, he ground his teeth.

"What was that?"

"Did Young Lord knock the squad leader's sword away? Did he win?"

"You believe that? The squad leader must've gone easy on him. Young Lord has his pride, too."

They seemed to think I couldn't hear them, but I heard every word.

Until recently, I had been a scoundrel who didn't even know how to properly hold a sword.

They couldn't possibly accept that someone like me had beaten their squad leader.

I walked over to Garten, who was sitting on the ground.

He hung his head and clenched his fists in frustration.

"You must be very pleased, Young Lord. You don't even realize I lost because I let my guard down. If it hadn't been for that, you would be..."

I held out my hand to him.

Garten looked up at me, eyes wide.

"When you bring down an overhead slash, your blade alignment is completely off."

"Pardon?"

I nodded toward his sword stuck in the ground.

"You have a habit of hunching your right shoulder first. That keeps you from carrying your weight all the way through to the tip of the blade. Start by practicing how to draw power from your lower body through your waist and extend it through your shoulder. Otherwise, you'll lose that shoulder in a real fight."

"...!"

"Your footing and strength were good. Other than that, you did well. You have talent. Keep at it."

Garten's mouth fell open. He was practically catching flies.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Look at him, giving advice just because he got lucky and won once."

"What's gotten into him?"

Mocking voices reached my ears.

So there were still hard feelings.

I rolled my stiff neck.

"Next."

"Yes, sir!"

The second apprentice knight stepped forward at once.

The spar was short, and both the process and result were the same.

Clang! Shing! Claang!

I stayed on the defensive, steadily wearing down my opponent's stamina and composure.

The instant I saw an opening, I ended it in a single strike.

"Urgh...!"

"Your footwork is too broad when you measure the distance to enter. Your next move is obvious. Cut your stride in half and learn to grip the ground with your toes. Don't focus only on upper-body strength. Be aware of your planted foot."

"Pardon? Ah, no. The commander has told me that before, but how did you..."

"Then fix it. Knowing something and refusing to fix it is worse than not knowing it at all. Fix it quickly. Once you solve that, becoming a full-fledged knight won't take long."

At some point, the whispers among the knights stopped.

They had called it a beginner's fluke. They had said his opponents were going easy on him.

Now, they could only stare at me in a daze.

I figured some of them had noticed.

My advice was far removed from knowledge picked up here and there.

"Next!"

"Yes, sir!"

Shing! Clang!

Thud!

Whenever one fell, another stepped up, and after several exchanges, that one was sent flying as well.

That wasn't all.

"Your judgment is careless. You trust your quick sword too much and only know how to press forward, never retreat. You still haven't realized that I gave you the center line and opened a blind angle at the flank. I was baiting you into lowering your guard. You lost the battle of wits, too."

"Ah..."

"That threw your sword's trajectory off course, and if I'd wanted to, I could've smashed your jaw with the crossguard. Remember this. Just because you've taken a blind angle doesn't mean you're outside your opponent's range. You're lucky this is only a spar. In a real fight, it wouldn't be strange for your head to come off."

Third opponent, fourth opponent, fifth opponent.

Seven, eight, nine.

"You're focusing too much on the sword itself, as if swordsmanship is only about swords. Swordsmanship isn't a simple sword fight. It's a fight to control space and angles. Watch your opponent's whole body, not just the tip of their sword, and when the blades meet, read the direction of their strength through the pressure you feel. Anyone who reads an opponent with their eyes alone will never rise above third-rate."

"I, I see..."

I ruthlessly pointed out every issue I noticed to the opponent lying on the ground.

That, too, was part of the spar. It was the main purpose of sparring.

"Whether it's a vertical or horizontal cut, the tip of your sword wobbles every time you swing. It doesn't seem to be an injury, so it looks like you've simply neglected physical training. Do you think swinging a sword alone builds muscle? You need proper strength training alongside it if you want to grow as a knight. Train your muscles hard, and hang a sandbag from your sword tip when you practice."

"Huh..."

"You're so obsessed with ending things in one blow that you can't even control your own body. If you use all your strength in a downward strike, will you have anything left to recover if you miss? Just now, when I stepped back half a pace and redirected your strike, you nearly lost your balance and fell. In a real fight, your back would've been split open."

"Then what should I..."

"Good grief, why ask that? Keep your lower body balanced, and save twenty percent of your strength so you can stop your sword at any time. Isn't that obvious?"

Whenever our swords met, the knights let out audible gasps.

Whenever I spoke, everyone went quiet as though they had agreed to it beforehand.

Claang!

Before I knew it, my tenth opponent's sword was rolling across the ground.

"Good heavens! Ten straight wins already!"

"We had him all wrong. He really is a Cardenos!"

"This is ridiculous. Isn't Young Lord tired at all?"

"Did you hear the advice Young Lord gave? It's exactly what the commander pointed out to us!"

You couldn't hear advice like mine even if you paid for it elsewhere.

Nor was it contempt or half-hearted attention toward the knights.

I gave their swordsmanship due respect and respected every drop of sweat they had shed.

They felt it clearly, too.

"I'll go! Young Lord, please teach me a thing or two!"

"No, I should go first! Please teach me the sword!"

The atmosphere at the training ground had completely changed.

The apprentice knights no longer saw me as a scoundrel.

Their disgust faded, replaced by respect.

Like students burning with a desire to learn, they rushed at me.

Past ten came twenty, then twenty-five.

I was gasping for breath, and my palms split open, blood seeping out.

I wrapped the wounds tightly in bandages and gripped my sword again.

Sweat soaked my entire body, and dirt clung to me.

I threw off my shirt and pointed to the next opponent.

Finally, the thirtieth opponent stepped onto the training ground.

Thwack!

On the tenth exchange, the flat of my sword struck his abdomen.

He rolled pitifully across the ground and fell.

Ironically, his face was filled with far more anticipation than before the spar had begun.

"Um, Young Lord. What did you think of my sword?"

"It was all good, except for one thing. When our swords collide, you stupidly try to force me back with strength alone. What you need to do then isn't show off your strength. It's read your opponent's pressure. If their strength is greater, don't stubbornly hold your ground. Tilt the blade at an angle and break into the open flank, like I just did when I redirected your force and struck your wrist."

I held out my hand and helped him up.

Even after I stepped down from the training ground, everyone's eyes remained on me.

"""Waaaaaah!!!!"""

Thunderous cheers erupted as if they would tear the training ground apart.

The contempt on their faces had turned into excitement and respect.

The knights sincerely applauded and raised their swords high.

"Thirty straight wins! Young Lord won every match!"

"Young Lord! I see you in a new light!"

"Shouldn't we hold a banquet? A day like this needs drinks!"

"You bastard. You just want to drink."

The man everyone had dismissed had easily defeated thirty knights.

Normally, they would envy me or fall into self-loathing.

They were different.

That was because they were all knights of Cardenos.

A knightly order united beneath the Banner of the Black Lion.

If a blood relative of Cardenos defeated them, that too became a source of pride for Cardenos.

They were Cardenos, too.

I roughly wiped the sweat running down my forehead with my sleeve.

I lifted my chin toward the apprentice knights lined up and saluting with their swords.

"I'm so exhausted from facing thirty of you I could die. Shouldn't you suffer a little like I did?"

"""Yes, sir!!"""

"Fifty laps around the training ground! How many laps?"

"""Fifty laps!"""

"Listen to those spirited voices. A hundred laps! Run, now!"

"All units, left face! Begin one hundred laps at the double!!!"

Not a single person complained as they turned.

With lingering excitement on their faces, they began running around the training ground.

Dirt quickly flew into the air, forming a thick cloud of dust.

"Whew..."

The breath I had been holding escaped in a hot rush.

I tossed my sword onto the rack and rolled my aching shoulders.

Feeling someone's gaze from above, I looked up.

Father stood with the elite knights, staring at me with a stunned expression.

I gave him a casual shrug.

"You haven't forgotten my wish, have you?"

"......."

"I'll escort you. Shall we, Father?"

* * *

Rattle.

Inside the swaying carriage, the woman looked out the window and let out a deep sigh.

So she had ended up here after all.

"Stop! We need to verify your identity!"

A guard stopped the carriage.

The guard who had been about to approach slowly suddenly stopped.

He had noticed the house crest a beat too late.

"C-Confirmed! At your service!"

The carriage began moving smoothly again.

The woman sank into the backrest. Her face was shadowed with worry.

She had almost no good memories of coming here.

Only memories of laughing and pandering.

Azelin took out the letter she had carefully kept close to her heart.

Whenever her thoughts became complicated, she took it out and read it again.

A love letter he had written for me.

[To my beloved Azelin]

Azelin carefully took in every syllable.

She read aloud the words she wanted to hear.

At the final sentence, Azelin tenderly traced his handwriting with her fingertips.

[From Julian, a man who loves you]

"Ah, Julian. I miss you..."

When she was young, she believed blind love was true devotion.

That was not the case.

That man's love for her had been obsession wearing the mask of devotion.

My feelings for him were true devotion.

"..."

Azelin looked down at her ring finger.

She slipped off the ring and placed it in her pocket.

"Astin."

If he saw the ring, he would think she had still kept the gift he gave her, without realizing it was nothing but his own delusion.

"I don't feel particularly sorry to you. We were always fated to end up this way."

Astin had vanished from Azelin's heart long ago.

Truthfully, he had never been there to begin with.

Author's Note

The protagonist Astin's age has been changed from 15 to 19.

His younger sister Celine's age has also been changed from 14 to 15.

Footnotes:

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