Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 73: Krono Swordsmanship School (6)



Chapter 73: Krono Swordsmanship School (6)

Lance Peterson’s face went stiff.

He couldn’t understand what was happening.

He thought it was an illusion. Because there was only one person in the world who would use consecutive attacks.

Of course, there could be more than one, but they couldn’t use the sword where each attack holds the same amount of power as the last.

But now, Irene was one such person.

However, the more he received the sword, the more distant the thoughts became.

Kwang!

Kwang!

Kwaang!

Constantly flying, non-stop.

An attack so fast that it looked like multiple people were attacking. But wrong.

There was only one person wielding it.

The reaction speed of the next attack was being increased with the rotation.

It wasn’t an easy thing. Difficult to perform too.

To maintain the same pace, one would need a strong grip that can withstand the impact and a strong center.

The required physical ability would be ridiculously high.

Besides, this wasn’t what Irene was training in the past.

A person who can actively react to their opponent’s actions, Lance Peterson was a trainee of Krono.

He was accustomed to this situation.

Although his style was to counterattack after defending, he was well trained.

Lance Peterson had worked hard for a long time to stop such aggressive attacks.

So he knew.

He was sure.

‘This guy… learned Judith’s swordsmanship. I’m sure!’

Kwang!

“Kuak!”

Lance groaned.

It was because he was a little late in responding while he was thinking of something else.

He bit his lower lip to regain his scattered concentration.

He opened his eyes wide and did his best to predict his opponent’s sword.

However, it was difficult. Questions kept popping up in Lance Peterson’s mind.

He continued his thoughts while still trying to block.

When the hell did he learn it?

Have the two of them kept meeting without Lance knowing? Did Irene meet with Judith secretly and then appeared here to surprise him?

That couldn’t be.

From what Lance knew, Judith has never been out of town.

Unlike Bratt and him, she didn’t have parents or a home to return to.

That was why she stayed in the school for 5 years.

Then…

“…!”

Lance’s eyes widened as he blocked Irene’s sword.

Because he finally found out. By dismissing the incorrect answers one by one, the only possibility remained. And that was the correct answer.

Five years back, 100 trainees gathered to show off their swords for the final evaluation.

If his memory was right, Judith found her sword at that time.

‘That makes it even more impossible!’

Kwang!

A roar rang out. The same as before, the roar of swords clashing.

Irene swung his sword wildly, and Lance blocked it.

What was different was the appearance.

For the first time since taking offense, Irene’s stance collapsed.

It was impossible to fix the sword, which was out of stance because of the opponent who excelled in strength.

A gap was revealed for the first time!

Lance Peterson didn’t miss it.

Crouching, he unleashed his sword.

“Hmph!”

It wasn’t an attack that was done with calculations.

Lance couldn’t afford to take time.

The fact that the opponent in front of him was showing such talent and the fact that the deprivation he felt five years back could resurface if he lost broke his cold reasoning.

Replaced by hot anger. It was strength that came from resisting the previous attacks.

Equivalent exchange of power.

An attack that should have ended the battle.

Swoosh!

But it didn’t.

Despite the raging attack, Lance’s sword was beautiful.

No haggard movements.

Rather, he moved ahead for Irene Pareira, drawing the most beautiful sword path.

It wasn’t a fluke.

It wasn\'t a coincidence.

It was the effort he has built till this very day and his strongest self.

The strongest blow to break down the wall he desperately wanted to break.

However,

Whoops!

Irene suddenly took a defensive posture and swung his sword.

Completely different from the sword he used a second back, soft movements.

Lance’s attack didn’t break through. In an unexpected counterattack, his sword flew high into the sky.

Wheik!

Clench!

The sword struck the ground at an angle.

Lance turned his head to confirm it.

And then looked at Irene Pareira.

The same expressionless face as the first and last time he saw him, 5 years back.

“Ha, ha…”

Unknowingly, he smiled.

“Reproducing Bratt’s swordsmanship… no.”

Lance, who mumbled, denied his own statement.

The word ‘reproducing’ isn’t correct.

Shaking, he thought of Bratt and Judith.

What would be the outcome if he had battles with Irene in the past?

Even if Irene was put in a 2 on 1 battle, he might win. That was a fact, not speculation.

‘Because I lost… saying he reproduced them might be rude.’

Irene developed the sword of Judith and Bratt, which he saw five years back.

Judith and Bratt have grown a lot compared to the past.

Behind all of the reproducing…

‘There must be a lot of hard work.’

Lance smiled.

Not as a joke. A cheerful smile which acknowledged the opponent and accepted the result.

Irene Pareira’s talent is real. And if people would watch him, they would feel jealousy boiling in their stomachs.

But still, Irene’s efforts are real.

And one wouldn’t know if they didn’t see him.

Just how madly he wields the sword.

It makes people say.

‘… that, that is Irene Pareira.’

Lance Peterson, who faced the greatest hard worker of the 27th batch of trainees, reached out.

And said,

“I Lost. It was a good fight.”

“It really was.”

And the conclusion came.

The victory overturned the expectations.

Irene Pareira owned the victory.

“Wo… ah…”

“…”

“That was amazing. This… how is this possible? Was he one of the 27th generation kids? Right? That’s crazy… it really is crazy…”

“…”

Seeing the match between Lance Peterson and Irene Pareira, one man kept talking.

It was just that.

All the swordsmen who were in the hall were excited as they kept talking.

But Gilbert couldn’t.

Because the moment he spoke, his current emotions would burst out.

‘What? What is this feeling?’

He couldn’t describe it.

For Gilbert, who was originally not good at talking, his current emotions were impossible to explain.

Something was overflowing.

But he wasn’t sure what it was.

This was the best way he could express it.

A strange feeling, where he enjoyed the battle.

He wasn’t the one moving the sword, but it felt like his heart popped out of his mouth.

That wasn’t the end.

“… uh?”

“The cat is flying!”

“Why are you so surprised? The talking cat is flying.”

The swordsman mumbled.

Normally, Lulu would have reacted in some manner.

But not now.

Higher, higher, and higher, Lulu flew to the height of a three-story building and looked.

The most serious expression she had.

And mumbled.

“Is it that person?”

“Huh? That person?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Eing, is someone here?”

“… don’t say cute things like Eing with such a vicious face.”

People were confused.

Most of them stayed silent, but people with good eyes shared their thoughts.

Perhaps the graduates who were worried about sending a trainee arrived. Some people talked and nodded.

And after a while.

An old man appeared.

“…!”

“…!”

The old man looked normal. He had a typical old man’s body with wrinkles.

A friendly smile which would remind one of a kind-hearted village chief.

However, not a single person could speak in front of him.

There were only two old people in Alcantra who could walk like they owned Krono.

And one is male.

The schoolmaster. Ian.

Everyone froze.

“Haha… this is an unexpected sight.”

Ian mumbled as he glanced at the hall.

Normally, Ian would joke around and release the tensed expressions of the trainees and swordsmen, but not this time.

He was too interested in something else.

Of course, there was no way one’s attention couldn’t be drawn.

‘What is that black cat?’

Lulu was floating around wearing stylish clothes. Even Ian was shocked.

He was curious about its identity.

‘But that isn’t important.’

The old man looked away from the cat.

He walked to the center and called out,

“Irene Pareira.”

“… schoolmaster.”

“It has been a long time. Have you been well?”

“… yes. For the first time, I have been very well.”

“You seem to have a lot to say.”

As Ian said.

There were many things he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure what had to be said first.

Irene’s mind was confused.

However, he didn’t have time to organize his thoughts.

Ian pulled out the sword on his waist.

“Since a swordsman met another swordsman, how about we let our swords talk?”

“…”

“This is right if you look at us as teacher and student. It has been a while, and I would like to see your skills.”

Woong!

As soon as he said that, Ian’s body released formidable energy.

Even the swordsmen who were indirectly exposed could feel a chill run down their spines.

Those who couldn’t hold their ground took a couple steps back.

However, no one was concerned about that.

The fact that the schoolmaster of Krono had taken out his sword was more shocking to them.

‘The last time the schoolmaster took out his sword for an outsider… how long has it been?’

‘4? 5 years?’

Everyone looked at Ian, the master of the sword, and Irene.

Who was that blonde?

Who was he that even the schoolmaster of Krono is bringing out his sword?

Of course, Irene didn’t bother responding to those gazes.

Irene thought.

‘Similar to before.’

Just like Lance Peterson, Ian pulled out his sword as soon as he saw Irene.

Shocking and awkward.

If this is how a true swordsman looks, that meant Irene wasn’t that good yet.

However,

‘Not bad.’

It was fun.

Irene raised his sword.

And swung.

Woong!

The sound of something slashing the wind.

It was to relieve the tension.

But unavoidable.

It would be strange to maintain his composure against the strongest man on the continent. Irene decided to enjoy the moment.

A clear subtle change.

“I\'m coming.”

“Come.”

The disciple paid respect to his teacher, and his teacher was ready to receive it.

Immediately, Irene’s body moved as quick as an arrow.

He didn\'t realize it, but he was acting differently from when he met Lance Peterson.


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