The Failed Swordmaster - Chapter 37

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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 37 18. The Great Challenge of the Eternal Last-Place Student (1)

“Though I was someone who received no one’s expectations….”

“….”

“I’ll show you. That I can do it.”

Heavy and serious words that some might find cringeworthy depending on the person.

But none of the audience laughed at Lumian.

They were already immersed in the solemn atmosphere he had created.

Rather, many people expressed curiosity about Lumian’s words. Receiving no one’s expectations—why would he say such a thing?

The answer to that came immediately.

“That guy was dead last in his grade until just last year.”

“Overwhelmingly last place. He failed every time and had to take makeup exams… I never thought he’d make it to the finals. He did suddenly get first place on the last exam, but still….”

Stories about Lumian emerged from here and there.

People finally looked at the stage with understanding expressions.

Indeed, if someone had always been stuck in last place, no one would have had expectations for him. Perhaps they even thought of him as pathetic.

But making it this far meant he had completely cleared away that pathetic past.

Therefore, the spectators didn’t laugh at Lumian. Rather, they began to view him more favorably as someone who had crawled up from the very bottom.

Of course, Cal Krone’s case was different.

Snicker.

He let out a slight laugh.

He had met countless guys who stood before him claiming they would defeat him, saying they had worked tirelessly without rest until now.

And every single one of them had knelt before him.

This guy would be the same. He acknowledged that the guy had surprised him somewhat, but now that he had decided to give his all, the game was over.

‘Be satisfied that you drew out my full power.’

Cal Krone withdrew his smile.

His cold expression, like wearing an iron mask, gave off a dangerous yet alluring feeling. Screams burst from the mouths of several women.

The referee’s voice announcing the start of the match was heard. Cal Krone immediately moved toward Lumian.

Bang! Crash!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Footsteps that erased the distance in an instant. And seven attacks swung in an instant.

A groan flowed from between Lumian’s teeth. Having barely succeeded in defending, he staggered backward.

One step, Cal Krone’s body retreated backward.

And with one breath, another fierce attack began.

Bang bang bang bang bang!

Crash! Bang! Bang!

Cal Krone’s attacks were overwhelming.

Graceful yet sharp, and heavy too. Beautiful and merciless like the wingbeats of a butterfly made of steel.

All the spectators held their breath at the shocking skill that couldn’t be seen at the cadet level.

Breathing sounds came from their mouths only after Cal Krone finished more than twenty attacks and stepped back.

“How’s that?”

“Huff, huff, wheeze.”

Lumian couldn’t answer Cal Krone’s words.

Though it was a brief exchange, he clearly looked defeated. Seeing his rough breathing, Cal Krone smiled that alluring smile again.

“I’ll go at you once more, so show me. That you can do it.”

Having finished speaking, Cal Krone charged for the third time.

Lumian raised his sword with a hardened expression.

* * *

Crash, bang!

The sound of sword clashing against sword continuously echoed through the arena. Almost no other sounds could be heard. At most, only breathing sounds.

It was strange.

This wasn’t an art gallery where silence was enforced, nor a concert. This was a swordsmanship competition where people should rightfully cheer for someone.

Yet on such a stage, no one said anything and quietly watched the match—what was this about?

But no one questioned it.

Bang!

Crash!

Craaash!

“Tch!”

Cal Krone, who had attempted three consecutive vertical slashes, stepped back with an annoyed expression. His gaze turned toward his opponent before him.

Already exhausted to the limit. If he pressed just a little more, it seemed he could suppress the last-place student’s rebellion and easily claim the honor of victory.

…How many times had he thought that?

He didn’t know. He had given up counting.

“Huff, huff.”

“Gasp, wheeze, huff, haah!”

Cal Krone shrugged his shoulders as he took deep breaths.

His stamina, which he had prided himself on being more than twice as good as others, was now making him feel tired and exhausted. Of course, it couldn’t compare to Lumian. That guy looked like he was on the verge of death.

That’s why it was even more absurd.

How was that guy still standing?

In a situation where not just stamina but even mental strength and willpower should have hit rock bottom, how was he still receiving his sword attacks?

While having such thoughts, Lumian’s footsteps moved toward him.

And a tremendously powerful diagonal slash came in.

Clang!

“Ugh!”

Cal Krone, who quickly raised his sword to block the attack, made a dumbfounded expression.

To think he would attack even in this situation. It was absurd.

It was unacceptable. Though he had been careless for a moment, allowing an attack from someone who had been losing badly left a deep wound to his pride.

He roared loudly and charged forward.

“Graaaah!”

Crash! Bang! Clang!

And once again, the storm of the steel butterfly began.

Cal Krone’s wingbeats poured down cruelly, and Lumian blocked them. Staggering, coughing. Screaming through his body and mouth as he desperately, desperately blocked each one.

After enduring like that for 30 minutes.

Cal Krone had no choice but to acknowledge Lumian Calard.

“Gasp, gasp, how, wheeze, huff, can you endure, huff, this much?”

“Gasp, wheeze, haaah!”

Now Cal Krone’s breathing had also become seriously rough.

Of course, Lumian’s condition was much worse, but that was the same as before. Rather, the fear that he might be the first to hit his limit at this rate settled in Cal Krone’s mind.

Cal Krone, who had stepped back, glared at Lumian with burning eyes. As if demanding an answer.

The thought that giving time to a tired opponent wasn’t good didn’t occur to him. He only thought about somehow hearing an answer from Lumian’s mouth.

Perhaps reading Cal Krone’s heart.

Lumian, having barely caught his breath, quietly let a monologue pour from his mouth.

“I was the eternal last-place student that everyone mocked and ridiculed.”

“….”

“Classmates, upperclassmen, underclassmen, professors—no one had expectations for me. No one told me I could do it.”

It was definitely a monologue.

It was definitely not words directed at Cal Krone. The sound itself wasn’t loud enough for someone far away to hear.

Like an incantation to steel his own heart, the words flowed out slowly and weakly.

But everyone watching the stage through magical projection could hear his monologue.

“So I can’t sit down now.”

“….”

“Until I show them, I can’t fall.”

With those words, Lumian’s feet moved again.

Cal Krone, who had been overwhelmed by Lumian’s momentum, suddenly snapped back to his senses. Then, after letting out a pained groan, he charged forward again.

The match resumed once more.

It was a fierce yet beautiful spectacle.

The sight of the handsome noble with a frowning expression and the sturdy challenger who staggered but never fell was like a well-orchestrated play. No, it conveyed a deep emotion that no mere play could capture.

The audience couldn’t even think about cheering for one side or the other; they could only clasp their hands together and watch the stage.

‘The atmosphere is even better than I thought.’

Of course, Teoro was different from them.

He observed the faces of the audience with a cold expression, devoid of any emotion.

‘I thought the dialogue and actions were a bit over the top, but the atmosphere was set up well enough that it didn’t matter.’

The current atmosphere in the arena was exactly as he and Lumian had intended.

He could tell just by looking at the audience’s eyes. They were now imagining Lumian’s past in their own ways.

The contempt Lumian must have received.

The ridicule Lumian must have endured.

The patience, willpower, and effort Lumian must have poured out to overcome all of this!

These were being painted in their minds in their own ways. In hundreds, thousands of different forms.

And among all those stories, not a single one would be anything but beautiful.

This could be considered a much more favorable atmosphere than originally anticipated.

‘Still, the women’s expressions are a bit concerning.’

Teoro checked several women with sharp eyes. They appeared to be in a dreamy, dazed state, swept away by Lumian’s tragic heroism.

But Teoro knew. The moment Lumian defeated Cal Krone, the well-orchestrated play would shatter and they would wake from their dream. And once again, an unfavorable atmosphere would form around Lumian.

They might not accept Cal Krone’s defeat and hurl curses at the victor, Lumian.

Cal Krone’s influence over the ladies was that tremendous. Enough to be difficult to overcome even with all sorts of staging.

‘As expected, winning carries too much risk… Let’s go with the original plan.’

Having made his decision, Teoro sent a signal toward Lumian.

It was nothing more than a simple hand gesture, but Lumian caught it like a ghost. And he subtly nodded his head.

Seeing this, Teoro shook his head in disbelief.

To think that with such monstrous skill and monstrous perception, he had been dead last all of last year. It was incomprehensible by common sense.

Of course, Teoro’s bewilderment was completely unimportant to Lumian right now.

Only finishing the finals magnificently mattered. He put strength into his eyes.

“Haaaaaaah!”

Just then, Cal Krone was charging at the perfect moment.

Judging by his eyes and momentum, he seemed intent on ending this long fight with this one strike.

Lumian welcomed it too. He charged forward with a tired expression.

Incidentally, being tired wasn’t an act. He was truly exhausted to the point of death.

The aftermath of overusing his aura image was too severe. He wanted to collapse on a bed and sleep right now.

Of course, even in such an exhausted state, he had enough ability to create the desired ending.

“Haaaaaaaat!”

Lumian roared roughly. Along with it, his sword thrust forward with heavy momentum.

At a similar speed to Cal Krone’s sword. Toward a similar target.

However, Lumian’s sword failed to hit its intended target and stopped abruptly.

With his sword placed against Cal Krone’s neck, he breathed heavily.

“Huff, huff!”

“Hup, hoop, haah!”

And the same was true for Cal Krone.

Two participants, each with their swords placed against the left side of the other’s neck, gasping as if they might collapse at any moment.

The referee watching them rushed over and shouted.

“St, stop the match! Stop the match!”

“What? What’s happening?”

“A stop?”

In a situation where neither could be declared the winner, the referee announced a halt to the match. Then he entered into discussion with several match officials.

People were shocked by the completely unexpected result and voiced their various thoughts.

“What? What happens now? Is it a draw?”

“Lumian was at a disadvantage the whole time, so ending it like this seems a bit off, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, we should praise him for creating a tied situation despite being disadvantaged. Declaring Cal Krone the winner just because he was ahead earlier makes even less sense.”

“Right, right.”

Reactions calling for Cal Krone’s victory by advantage were extremely few. Most of the audience, even the referee, match officials, and Knight Department professors thought it would be right to treat it as a draw.

But there was exactly one person who didn’t agree with either opinion.

Sir Bucal, a high-ranking knight of Jenas watching the finals from the VIP seats, gripped the armrest of his chair tightly and thought.

‘Lumian… That boy is deliberately hiding his skills!’

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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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