How a Two-Life Scoundrel Lives - Chapter 26

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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【Chapter 26】

“No, where in the world is there a father like this?”

A complaint naturally flowed from Carlisle’s mouth.

Of all places, sending him to the most dangerous place of all—what kind of mindset is that…?

“Don’t they say a lion drops its cubs from a cliff, Young Master?”

“Do I look like a lion to you?”

“It’s just a metaphor, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t a cliff, it’s a hellish pit of fire.”

The [Kuberin] region where Carlisle would go was a place where combat never ceased for even a single day, where dozens to hundreds of wounded and dead occurred daily.

No wonder it was called the [Blood-Soaked Land].

“What father would want to drive his child into mortal danger? He only wishes for you to grow strong, Young Master.”

“If I grow just a little stronger, it seems like I won’t have any life left?”

“What can we do? That’s the fate of being a Northerner.”

“That damn Northern fate.”

Though Carlisle pouted, he wasn’t unaware of why Maranello said such things.

‘Right, being born a Northerner is the crime.’

The lives of Northerners were barren beyond measure.

Though Dekaron’s territory was vast and fertile, Northerners couldn’t enjoy those blessings due to prolonged war.

Food from fertile lands became military rations for soldiers, resources became weapons like spears and shields, and people with strong spirits became soldiers who fell on battlefields.

As a result, Northerners had no choice but to live in constant poverty, and their average lifespan was very short.

The reason the population was small compared to the vast territory was all due to such circumstances.

“Fine, let’s say that’s true, giving you a hundred concessions. But what crime did the soldiers who’ll be under my command commit?”

It was principle for Sigmunds to serve in the military as officers immediately after completing their commissioning ceremony.

Since Carlisle had also safely completed his commissioning ceremony and obtained his Inheritance Sword, he would naturally become an officer and command troops.

However, Carlisle completely lacked the military knowledge to command soldiers.

Of course, he had received lessons in Military Science since childhood, but the real Carlisle who was the body’s original owner had been negligent in his studies, failing to build proper knowledge.

As a result, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the current Carlisle, who inherited those memories intact, also lacked military knowledge.

Of course, having played the game [Overlord] for a very long time—long enough to place his nickname at the top of the ranking page—meant he wasn’t completely blank.

“That’s not something you need to worry about at this stage, so you don’t need to concern yourself with it yet.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you know? There’s still the proving left.”

“Ah.”

The proving Maranello mentioned referred to the trial given to Sigmunds who had just finished their commissioning ceremony.

Only after overcoming this trial called the [Noble Proving] would one gain the authority to command soldiers as an officer, so as Maranello said, there was no need to worry about lacking military knowledge right now.

“Still, don’t you have some time left? Focus on building military knowledge in your spare time, Young Master.”

“I’ll have to.”

Though Carlisle absolutely hated studying, this time it was unavoidable.

This was a matter of survival.

If in his previous life he had to study to survive in society, the studying he’d do from now on was to avoid death.

Since it was a matter involving not only Carlisle’s own life but also the lives of the soldiers under his command, no matter how much he hated studying, he had no choice but to do it.

Carlisle felt terribly wronged, but there was nothing he could do about it.

‘It’s my fault for possessing a Sigmund of all people.’

Having become a Sigmund, enjoying only pleasure without responsibility was never an easy thing.

* * *

Only one month remained until departure for Kuberin, the Blood-Soaked Land.

Thanks to this, Carlisle received instruction from Maranello in everything from very basic military knowledge to techniques useful in actual combat situations.

Since Maranello was once called the [Death God of the North]—a legendary figure, or rather legend itself—he knew countless techniques useful in real combat situations.

Of course, due to the extremely short time given, most of the education was superficial, but it would still be a hundred, a thousand times better than learning nothing.

“How is the boy doing?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Maranello answered Grand Duke Guntram’s question.

“He’s doing his best in his own way.”

“The boy seems to dislike the idea of dying too.”

The Grand Duke’s gaze turned cold.

“However, Your Grace.”

Maranello cautiously spoke up.

“I believe you should reconsider sending Young Master Carlisle to the Blood-Soaked Land.”

“That cannot be done.”

Grand Duke Guntram firmly shook his head.

“But don’t you know better than anyone how dangerous the Blood-Soaked Land is?”

“That’s exactly why I’m sending him. If I sent him somewhere moderately comfortable, how would the boy behave? He’d act like before again.”

“However…”

“Of course it will be extremely dangerous. Perhaps he might even die at the hands of those Barbarians. But what can be done? That’s the fate those born as Sigmunds must bear.”

Dekaron’s ruler possessed a character befitting his epithet as the Iron-Blooded Judge.

Before that steel-like conviction and will, exceptions did not exist.

Even if it was his own flesh and blood…

“I must send the boy, my children, to the Blood-Soaked Land. Of course, the criticism, self-reproach, and guilt for that decision will be entirely mine to bear. That is the duty and karma the head of House Sigmund must shoulder.”

Since the Grand Duke’s will was firm, Maranello could no longer bring up this matter.

‘Now that it’s come to this, I can only hope the Young Master does well.’

With that thought, Maranello drove Carlisle mercilessly during the remaining period.

The fortunate thing was that Carlisle had become incomparably stronger than before.

Since awakening after hovering between life and death, Carlisle was no longer the scoundrel of the past.

Moreover, after going on solo night walks and training at the abandoned Old Castle Ruins, he had reached a level superior to most low-ranking Knights.

So much so that Maranello had been misunderstanding that Carlisle had been hiding his strength all along, deliberately playing the scoundrel.

Nevertheless, Maranello couldn’t be satisfied.

Because he knew all too well how dangerous those Northern Barbarians and the Blood-Soaked Land were…

Thwack!

“Agh!”

Carlisle let out a short scream and stepped back.

“Isn’t this too much? Ugh.”

Carlisle rubbed his shoulder—the spot where Maranello’s Feather Duster had just struck—and frowned.

‘What kind of Feather Duster hurts this much!’

Maranello never wielded a Wooden Sword or Real Sword.

He only swung a Feather Duster, but its destructive power exceeded that of most blunt weapons.

For all he knew, if Maranello swung his Feather Duster with full force, it would surely dent steel and shatter rocks to pieces.

So much so that he even suspected that Feather Duster might be a legendary sword disguising its form, like Grimgand.

“Is there ever a need to beat someone to death with a Feather Duster? Ugh.”

“Hehe.”

Maranello smiled somewhat coldly.

“The Barbarians’ axes will hurt much more, Young Master.”

“I know, I know that. Ugh. But it seems like you’re pushing too hard.”

“If Young Master were to fall in battle, this old man would be unable to sleep at night from guilt. I would probably live the rest of my life in regret—for not training you more harshly now.”

“You don’t need to do that, so can’t you go a little easier?”

Carlisle said firmly.

“If I die, I die—what’s the big deal about that? Don’t feel guilty if I fall in battle.”

“How could that be something I can control?”

Maranello swung the feather duster at Carlisle once again.

“Ugh!”

Carlisle hurriedly threw his body aside.

If he had been hit on the crown of his head by Maranello’s feather duster, his skull might have been shattered.

* * *

The rumor that Carlisle would be sent to the Blood-Soaked Land spread throughout all of Dekaron in the blink of an eye.

“As expected, His Grace the Grand Duke makes no exceptions, even for his own children.”

“Didn’t you see during his trial? His Grace the Grand Duke not only sentenced that scoundrel Carlisle to death but also tried to cut off one of his arms.”

“No matter how much of a scoundrel he is, he cannot escape the family traditions of House Sigmund. Yes, that’s right.”

The people of Dekaron completely supported and looked up to Grand Duke Guntram’s decision.

Thanks to this, public sentiment rose, and young men eligible for conscription willingly headed to recruitment offices, just as the northerners had done.

When even the monarch was sending his own children to the battlefield, it was absurd for the people to avoid conscription.

After all, even Selena, the eldest daughter of House Sigmund, had already been active as a knight for four years, building outstanding military achievements…

“That scoundrel will either die or run away in his first battle.”

“It might actually be better for His Grace the Grand Duke if he dies at the hands of those barbarians.”

The people of Dekaron supported their monarch’s decision, but were extremely skeptical about Carlisle.

“Kyaak! Ptui! Go and die miserably at the hands of those barbarians!”

“Finally, we’ll get to see that bastard die!”

Those who gritted their teeth at Carlisle only wished for him to die at the hands of the barbarians.

Given all the evil deeds he had committed over the years, it was only natural that there were many who cursed him.

Regardless of all that, Carlisle was too busy getting beaten by Maranello’s swinging feather duster to care about public opinion about himself.

He had never been interested in what others said about him in the first place, so he didn’t even know what rumors were circulating…

Time passed, and the day came for Carlisle to depart for the Blood-Soaked Land.

Carlisle woke up before dawn and prepared to leave for the Blood-Soaked Land.

Gathering everything from basic armaments to various supplies to load on the saddle was no easy task.

Of course, Maranello helped by gathering this and that and assisting him, which reduced some of the trouble, but it was still hectic nonetheless.

“It seems too tight.”

“Military uniforms are originally like that, Young Master.”

“Do I really have to wear it?”

“You are an officer of the Decaron Army, Young Master. For the sake of dignity, you must wear your uniform.”

Maranello said this while attaching rectangular second lieutenant rank insignia to Carlisle’s uniform collar.

“Officer, my foot.”

Carlisle snorted.

“I won’t have a single subordinate until I pass the trial of nobility anyway.”

“You still have to do it.”

“Ugh. Tighten it gently.”

While Carlisle was struggling with his uniform with Maranello’s help, Evangeline approached and spoke.

“Um, Young Master.”

“Oh, what is it.”

“I was hoping you would accept this.”

Evangeline shyly held out a bracelet.

The bracelet was so old and crude that it was definitely not in a condition suitable for giving as a gift to someone.

It even looked like it could be taken as an insult to the recipient if handled wrongly.

“What is this trash?”

Carlisle asked bluntly, as if tossing the words out.

He was already agitated from putting on the uniform, so what was meant to be a casual response ended up coming out as harsh words.

“It’s my grandmother’s keepsake…”

“What did you say?”

“It’s something my late grandmother left me.”

…Oh no.

Carlisle’s face turned deathly pale.

“I’m sorry.”

Carlisle hurriedly apologized.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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