The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 150

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 150

Zigheart 5th Training Ground.

The sand arena of blood and sweat, which had stood empty for a year, began to bustle once more with the return of the trainees.

The trainees, now seventeen years old after a year had passed, had grown more than a hand’s breadth taller. Their appearances had matured, and confidence and pride radiated from their very stance.

Most striking of all was the light in their eyes. The achievements they had earned through their own efforts and the accomplishments they had built became a mirror, reflecting an aura far superior to what they had possessed before.

Yet the complexions of the trainees who had passed the year-long survival test and earned recognition from the instructors were far from bright. Their faces were creased with displeasure, as though something troubled their minds.

Burren, Lunan, and Martha’s expressions were particularly troubled compared to the other trainees.

“Where in the world is that bastard? What’s he doing that he still hasn’t shown up!”

Burren, whose physique had grown even more impressive than that of a sturdy man, furrowed his brow so deeply that his already lowered eyebrows nearly touched his eyes.

“What in the hell is he up to, not showing his face until the day before graduation!”

He paced the training ground restlessly, gnawing at his fingernails in anxiety.

“Raon….”

Lunan, her silver hair like a snowy plain tied back, gazed blankly up at the clear sky while murmuring Raon’s name. Her voice was so soft that it wouldn’t be heard even if someone stood right beside her, but that made it all the more frightening.

“Raon, why aren’t you coming? Where are you, Raon? We’re supposed to eat ice cream together….”

Watching her wander aimlessly through the Training Ground with a container of pearl ice cream cradled in her arms sent a chill down my spine.

“Hmph. Maybe he got his ass handed to him after getting cocky about getting a little stronger.”

Martha scoffed, her ebony hair and pale skin creating a striking contrast that now exuded the unmistakable fragrance of a mature woman. Yet even as she spoke, uncertainty flickered across her eyes, rolling them nervously.

“If he doesn’t show up, that’s fine by me. I can just take his place and represent instead of that shrimp.”

She twisted her lips into a sneer, but the forced nature of it was evident in the subtle trembling of her mouth.

“This frustrating bastard. Why the hell isn’t he coming?”

She muttered under her breath where no one could hear, her fists clenching tightly.

“Raon will come.”

Lunan approached Martha, who was smiling awkwardly, and puffed out his lips. Conviction now gleamed in eyes that had been vacant moments before.

“What?”

“Raon will come.”

“If he was going to come, he would’ve been here by now. He’s already late.”

Martha twisted her jaw to the side. Perhaps fearing that her words might jinx things, she refrained from saying anything harsher.

“He’s probably hiding somewhere out of shame from losing.”

“I didn’t lose! He’s coming soon!”

“He’s not coming!”

“He is!”

“He’s not!”

“He is!”

Silver hair and black hair. As Lunan Slion and Martha faced each other with contrasting locks, growling with intensity, dark green sparks began erupting around them.

The trainees in the Training Ground made no move to stop them. This confrontation had been going on for nearly a month now.

“Why aren’t Raon and Dorian coming?”

“Did something actually happen to them on the way?”

“Maybe they ran into Eden….”

“Don’t say such unlucky things.”

The trainees, whether training or conversing, couldn’t stop thinking about Raon.

A transformation that was worlds apart from when they first gathered here to mock him. Even after a year had passed, they followed Raon with genuine hearts—the one who had saved their lives.

Boom!

As everyone struggled to focus on their training, swinging their swords clumsily, the Training Ground door burst open, and Rimer strode in with flaming hair billowing behind him. He moved with an ease greater than before, commanding the presence of the space before the trainees.

“Why does everyone look so exhausted? Didn’t you sleep?”

Rimer surveyed the trainees with his characteristically light gaze.

“Instructor. Doors aren’t meant to be opened with your feet.”

“Yeah. It’s mine.”

He wagged his finger at Burren, whose expression had darkened.

“Tch…”

Since he couldn’t argue with the truth, Burren merely ground his teeth in silence. Even after a year, the dynamic between the two hadn’t changed.

“The graduation ceremony is tomorrow. All the prominent figures from the family will be there to see you, so are you really going to show them such pathetic faces? Everyone, get your heads in the game.”

Rimer clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the unfocused trainees.

“Raon isn’t here.”

Lunan, shoulders drooping, let out a deep sigh while staring at the ball of ice cream in his hand.

“The graduation ceremony is tomorrow like you said, so where exactly is that bastard Raon and what is he doing?! Did he really get kidnapped or something?”

Burren approached as if he might bite through the platform, his expression twisted with worry filling his blue eyes.

“If he doesn’t come, so be it. Why are you all so desperate to find him? Things are easier without him.”

Martha crossed her arms and laughed coldly, her hands trembling beneath her armpits.

“Pathetic.”

Rimer shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve lived with Raon for years and still don’t know him? Do you really think he’s the type to get beaten up or kidnapped somewhere?”

“Raon is strong, but that’s only strong by our standards! Not that I’m particularly worried or anything. Don’t misunderstand. I’m simply concerned as a fellow trainee about Raon and Dorian….”

Burren’s face flushed at the mere thought of Raon.

“Strong among his peers, you say….”

Rimer’s shoulders shook with a knowing smirk.

“Hmm? You look like you know something.”

“Instructor! Do you know where Raon is?”

“Why hasn’t he shown up!”

“Dorian’s with him too, right!”

“Instructor!”

The trainees swarmed Rimer like ants drawn to sugar, with Lunan at the forefront clutching a box of ice cream, nearly grabbing him by the collar.

“How would I know where those two are? But I’m certain they’ll return without a scratch.”

Rimer smiled faintly and waved his hand.

“You all can relax and prepare for tomorrow’s graduation ceremony.”

With calm eyes, he settled the trainees and then left the Training Ground once more.

“He’s got a point.”

“Raon’s quick-witted anyway. Nothing will go wrong.”

“Dorian will just hide if anything happens.”

“Right. There must be a reason.”

“When he says things like that, the instructor actually looks pretty cool.”

The trainees agreed with Rimer’s words and resumed their training. The year-long survival test had not been in vain—as they refocused, a sharp, piercing momentum surged throughout the entire Training Ground.

*

*

*

“Please help me! Lord Roen!”

Rimer grabbed Roen’s sleeve on the mountainside of Bekmang Mountain, his face twisted in distress.

“Why aren’t Raon and Dorian coming?! Where are they hiding?! The graduation ceremony is tomorrow!”

Unlike the composed demeanor he’d displayed at the Training Ground, he shook Roen’s shoulders with eyes brimming with urgency.

“The Heavenly Sword Squad is guarding it, so I can’t even enter the Bi-Yeon Society! They’ve even embedded thorns in the ceiling!”

“Thorns….”

“Even if that bastard left last, he should have arrived a month ago. I have no idea why he hasn’t shown up!”

“Sigh.”

Roen exhaled softly as he watched Rimer cling to him. Several months ago, Rimer had broken through the ceiling of the Bi-Yeon Society’s office and extracted information about Raon, only to be beaten within an inch of his life by Glen. Since that day, Heavenly Sword Squad inspectors had been stationed permanently at the Bi-Yeon Society.

“Because of you, Lord Rimer, I’m also unable to receive information about Young Master Raon.”

“What? Still?”

“Yes. The Patriarch is treating information about Lord Raon as higher priority than top-secret.”

“Good grief, if he treasures his grandson that much, he should look after him openly. What is he doing, watching from behind like some stalker every day?”

Rimer grumbled and kicked at a stone on the ground.

Glen had always been by Raon’s side, whether when he was a baby or learning the Mana Technique, yet he pretended to be indifferent and uninterested. They say stubbornness only grows worse with age—his was truly as unyielding as steel wire.

“I agree with that sentiment as well.”

Roen nodded with a bitter expression. Like Rimer, he too hoped that Glen, Raon, and Sylvia would live together as a family.

“Fortunately, there is one piece of information.”

“Information?”

“Yes. A week after the report came in that you had returned, the Heavenly Sword Squad inspectors moved toward Habun Castle.”

“Ah, that was—!”

“Yes. It must have been a measure to protect that girl who faced threats from you and Eden. Given that the Patriarch and the Heavenly Sword Squad have shown no further activity since then, it likely means there are no serious issues.”

“Oho!”

Rimer’s previously darkened expression brightened in an instant, as though a magical lamp had been lit.

“Then I should look into this properly.”

“Pardon?”

“Since nothing’s certain yet. Let me sound out the Patriarch.”

“Wait, hold on! If you do that—”

“Ah, it’ll be fine. Surely he won’t kill me? I’m going now!”

Before Roen could stop him, Rimer rose with a sly grin, channeling wind aura as he dashed down toward the Patriarch’s Hall.

Rimer arrived at the entrance of the Patriarch’s Hall and slipped inside with a smirk.

“Mm…”

Roen let out a low groan. He could already picture the fate awaiting the red-haired elf inside the Patriarch’s Hall.

Moments later, the Patriarch’s Hall trembled as expected, and the sound of thunder erupted from within.

Roen closed his eyes and offered a prayer for Rimer’s soul.

*

*

*

Zigheart Annex.

Even after Raon’s departure, the warmth that had lingered in that bright space was now gripped by a chill as if struck head-on by winter winds.

“Sigh….”

“Why hasn’t he returned yet?”

“Everyone else has come back….”

“Young Master Raon….”

The handmaidens tending the flower beds heaved sighs so heavy they seemed to shake the ground itself. With Raon alone among the 5th Training Ground trainees failing to return, the Annex had taken on the atmosphere of a funeral home.

“Stop sighing and finish quickly.”

A calm voice cut through the cold air, contrasting with the dejected tones of the handmaidens.

“There’s not much left anyway.”

It was Sylvia. With her luxuriant golden hair draped over her left shoulder, she smiled faintly while trimming the flower beds with garden shears.

“My lady….”

“I’m, I’m so sorry.”

The handmaidens bit their lips as they watched Sylvia smile. The person suffering the most was showing the brightest expression, and it only made their tears threaten to spill over.

“R, right. The young master will return soon. Don’t worry too much.”

Helen crouched beside Sylvia and shook her head. Unlike Sylvia, her complexion had taken on a pallid hue, unable to conceal her emotions.

“Raon promised us. He said he would return healthy and well. All we need to do is wait here so he can rest comfortably when he comes back.”

Sylvia met the eyes of each handmaiden one by one, her smile unwavering.

“Y, yes!”

“Understood!”

“I’ll, I’ll prepare the meals!”

The handmaidens, their expressions brightened with renewed purpose, began to disperse and attend to their tasks.

‘Remarkable.’

Judith, standing at the end of the group of handmaidens, narrowed her eyes as she observed Sylvia.

‘She must be suffering so much she can’t even sleep.’

While the other handmaidens held Raon dear, none cherished him as deeply as Sylvia did. Her only son’s fate had become uncertain, yet she neither wavered nor faltered—instead, she comforted those around her. She was truly a remarkable woman.

‘Actually, there’s no need to worry about it.’

Raon was the most terrifying person I had ever met. There were those stronger in combat, but none possessed such cold, frightening composure.

“Let’s finish up quickly and grab dinner—huh?”

As Sylvia was wrapping up her work in the flower bed, a tall man approached from the direction of the Main Mansion. Red hair and pointed ears—it was Rimer, the chief instructor of the 5th Training Ground.

“Rimer?”

But something was distinctly wrong. His red hair was singed black as if burned, his eyes were darkened with bruises, and a cloth stained red was stuffed in his nostrils.

“Are you… all right?”

Sylvia approached Rimer with her mouth agape.

“Ah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine at all…”

“It’s nothing serious. I just ran into a stubborn, ill-tempered bull on the way.”

Rimer waved his hand dismissively.

“A bull…?”

Not a monster—I wondered what kind of bull could have left him in such a state.

“It’s nothing major, really.”

Rimer scratched the back of his head and smacked his lips.

“It’s about Raon. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“Pardon? R-Raon? You’ve heard news about him?”

“He hasn’t been injured or anything. The graduation ceremony might be delayed a bit, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Ah….”

At Rimer’s gentle voice, the scissors slipped from Sylvia’s hands. As if the emotions she had been holding back suddenly burst forth, her legs wavered.

“Your son and my student is doing well, so wait with ease.”

He patted Sylvia’s shoulder and smiled.

“I’ll be going then.”

“At least stay for dinner….”

“Ah, there’s a big gambling den opening up.”

Rimer turned with a grin and walked away, muttering to himself, “Damn, that hit harder than expected.” His footsteps echoed as he departed.

Sylvia clasped her hands tightly together and bowed her head toward Rimer.

*

*

*

The next day.

The doors of the Grand Training Grounds, as massive as the castle gates themselves, swung wide open. Regular swordsmen and administrators who rarely entered the Grand Training Grounds took their seats in chairs arranged along the outer perimeter.

Sylvia and Helen, whose spirits had brightened somewhat thanks to Rimer, along with the handmaidens from the Annex Building, found their places in a corner. They clasped their hands tightly, their gazes fixed upon the entrance of the training grounds as if waiting for something.

Just before the sun reached the zenith of the sky.

The trainees of the 5th Training Ground, dressed in elaborate ceremonial robes, entered in succession and lined up in formation at the center of the training grounds. Though their faces still bore the softness of youth, the subtle aura emanating from them was in no way inferior to that of regular swordsmen.

“Damn it….”

“Still not here?”

“The one who’s usually so punctual….”

“Raon, Dorian. Come quickly.”

Their eyes held worry that transcended mere tension, and they kept glancing backward as if waiting for someone.

As time passed, the hastily constructed spectator stands began to fill. High-ranking officials rarely seen in public—branch leaders and division heads—as well as the heads of direct and vassal families took their designated seats.

“Yaaaawn.”

Rimer stood beside the trainees, yawning so widely his mouth seemed ready to split. Graduation ceremony or not, he remained exactly as he always was.

As the crowd gathered in the Training Ground gazed at the trainees with eyes gleaming with excitement, anticipation, tension, and worry, the swordsmen standing before the doors struck their flag poles against the ground.

Kuuuuong!

The swordsmen gathered everyone’s attention with that resonant boom, then unfurled their flags to both sides.

“The true master of the Northern Region. The Patriarch, Glen Zigheart, makes his entrance!”

“We greet the Patriarch!”

At that thunderous cry, every swordsman in the Training Ground rose to their feet and dropped to one knee.

Glen Zigheart, his faded golden hair swept back and a blood-red coat draped across his shoulders, crossed the Training Ground.

The overwhelming majesty emanating from a Martial Saint who had touched transcendence left the crowd unable to even think of lifting their heads, cold sweat trickling down their spines.

Gooooo!

Until he took his seat upon the throne on the platform, everyone in the Training Ground forgot even to breathe, desperately wishing for this moment to pass quickly.

“All of you, rise.”

“Yes!”

At his command to rise, everyone stood in perfect unison as if they had rehearsed it. Yet this too was not of their own volition. Their bodies moved of their own accord, compelled by the oppressive force Glen had unleashed.

“Chief Instructor. Begin.”

“Patriarch, two people haven’t arrived yet. Could we wait just a bit longer…?”

“Even if we didn’t set an exact return date, there’s no way they wouldn’t know the graduation ceremony is in February. If they haven’t come by now, they’re disqualified.”

“But Raon is the top student, and Dorian is… Understood.”

Rimer rubbed his fingers together, hoping to buy more time, but Glen’s cold gaze made him turn away immediately. He couldn’t resist after getting beaten yesterday.

“Then we shall now begin the graduation ceremony for the 5th Training Ground. Total enrollment: 43. Current attendance: 41. Two absent. The 41 present are…hm?”

Just as he was announcing the current attendance, a soft footstep echoed through the archway of the Grand Training Grounds as it began to close.

Thud.

The footstep should have been drowned out by the noise of countless people, yet it pierced through everyone’s ears with crystalline clarity.

That footstep carried the dignity of Glen Zigheart, the lightness of Rimer, and the weight of Milend.

As the focused footstep drew closer, every gaze in the training ground turned backward.

Black dress shoes crossed the threshold. A man emerged, draped in nobility that transcended even his ornate formal attire. His golden hair, kissed by sunlight, shimmered with radiant brilliance, while his deep crimson eyes seemed to draw in all gazes.

A faint smile played at the corners of his lips as he swept across the training ground with a beauty that could now rightfully be called peerless.

“Such a welcome isn’t necessary.”

Raon Zigheart. He who had achieved the most dazzling growth had returned to the heart of Zigheart.

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