Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: A Master's Awakening
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“H-How…”
Maranello was speechless at the monstrous strength Carlyle displayed.
“Y-Young Master? Just what is that strength…?”
“I can’t control it.”
Carlyle replied, sounding troubled.
“Looks like I’ll need some practice.”
“What happened to you?”
“What about it?”
“How could you suddenly become so strong…?”
“A late-night snack?”
“Pardon?”
“I ate something good last night, and it made me stronger.”
“Something good… Did you perhaps take an elixir?”
“Yeah, that’s right. An elixir.”
“What kind of elixir… No, where on earth did you get an elixir…?”
“Enough.”
Carlyle frowned, as if he couldn’t be bothered to answer.
“Shouldn’t you do your job before asking me questions?”
“My job, you say…”
“It’s a mess.”
Carlyle pointed to the shattered teacups and the table.
“Am I supposed to clean it?”
“Hah.”
Maranello clicked his tongue in disbelief.
Of course, it was a butler’s duty to clean up messes, but…
*‘The Young Master is hiding something.’*
Maranello was certain that Carlyle was hiding some kind of secret.
Hadn’t he already been suspecting that the young master had been deliberately acting like a scoundrel?
*‘The man who struggled to pull a single weed can now crush a teacup and shatter a table with his bare hands. Where in the world did he get such an elixir…'*
Just as Maranello’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you staring at?”
“Pardon?”
“I know you’re thinking about me, but do it after you’ve cleaned up.”
“…Understood.”
At Carlyle’s blunt command, Maranello put the broken teacups into a bag and swept up the shattered porcelain pieces with a broom.
Of course, he didn’t forget to call other servants to clear away the broken table.
“All clean?”
“Yes, Young Master. As you can see, it’s been tidied up perfectly.”
“Keep holding those.”
Carlyle pointed to the cleaning tools in Maranello’s hands.
“I think I’ll keep breaking things.”
“Pardon?”
“I told you. I’m practicing how to control my strength.”
Carlyle’s words were no empty threat.
Starting with snapping the handle off a teacup, Carlyle began to break everything he touched.
A toothbrush snapped, a fork bent, a plate shattered, and a collar tore.
Every time Carlyle broke something, Maranello would clean it up and replace it with a new one.
*‘I’m starting to get the hang of it.’*
With each item he broke, Carlyle slowly learned how to control his strength.
At first, he had no feel for it and couldn’t control it at all, but he gradually adapted as time went on.
“Maranello.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“It’s going to be like this for a while, so please bear with me until I get used to it.”
“Of course. However…”
“I’m not taking questions.”
“…”
Seeing Carlyle cut him off, Maranello realized something.
No matter how much he pried, he wouldn’t get a straight answer.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Keep this a secret from my father.”
“That is…”
“Do I need to find a new butler?”
“…”
A smirk.
Carlyle’s subtle threat left Maranello with a troubled expression.
“Why do you wish to hide this from your father?”
“It’ll be a hassle.”
“…”
“I’ll take that as your promise to keep it secret.”
Maranello was at a loss for words.
A descendant of a renowned family like the Sigmunds would typically dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to the family’s prosperity and prestige, even without being told.
Weren’t those values naturally instilled from a young age, without anyone needing to teach them?
Moreover, the Sigmund family was famous for its fiercely competitive succession battles.
Due to the family tradition that anyone, even an illegitimate child, could become the head if they had the ability, the spirited young Sigmunds were extremely proactive in the competition for succession.
Yet here he was, unwilling to reveal himself for the simple reason that it was a hassle…
“For now, help me practice controlling my strength. And with my swordsmanship training.”
“Of course.”
Maranello smiled.
Although he was disappointed not to get a clear answer from Carlyle, there was no reason to refuse a request to help with training.
This was far better than him indulging in debauchery and a life of pleasure.
“Ah, and let’s do the training at dawn.”
“Haha. You don’t want anyone to see you training, either?”
“Right.”
“Understood. I will find a quiet place.”
“Good.”
Carlyle smiled in satisfaction.
***
Meanwhile, rumors began to circulate within the Sigmund family that Carlyle was up to his old scoundrel tricks again, his habits having not changed one bit.
The basis for this was that he had severely injured a knight on night patrol, breaking his ribs, and that he was making Maranello’s life difficult by breaking things every day.
*Crash!*
*Thud!*
*Smash!*
And for good reason—the sound of things breaking could be heard from Carlyle’s room day after day.
Furthermore, Maranello and the other servants were spotted cleaning up the items Carlyle had broken and replacing them with new ones.
So, from an outsider’s perspective, it could only seem as though Carlyle was throwing another one of his tantrums, smashing things and tormenting Maranello and the other servants.
And that news eventually reached Grand Duke Guntram’s ears, leading him to summon Carlyle.
“You called for me.”
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
“Have you started again?”
“What are you referring to?”
“I heard you broke Knight Carlson’s ribs.”
“That did happen.”
“And that you’ve been throwing tantrums and smashing things every day?”
“It’s true I’ve been smashing things.”
“Are you proud of that…?”
Just as anger crept into the Grand Duke’s voice.
“Knight Carlson deserved to be hit.”
“Hmm?”
“I caught him badmouthing me. Was I supposed to just let it go?”
“Caught him badmouthing you?”
“I was out for a walk. He was on patrol, insulting me with his colleagues. So I disciplined him for insulting a noble.”
“Is that true?”
“You didn’t know?”
“…”
Grand Duke Guntram couldn’t answer Carlyle’s question.
He had heard bits and pieces of the story but had assumed, as was often the case, that Carlyle had simply assaulted an innocent knight for no reason.
“Then what about smashing things? I hear no furniture or fixtures are safe.”
“I’ve been a bit on edge lately.”
“Is being ‘on edge’ an excuse for such outrageous behavior?”
“Have you heard of anyone getting hurt?”
“…That…”
Once again, the Grand Duke was speechless.
It was true that while he’d heard Carlyle was smashing things, he hadn’t heard a single word about anyone getting injured because of it.
“Think of it as my way of relieving stress.”
“How can you say that…?”
“Should I go out and carouse instead?”
“…!”
“I think this is better than wandering around, getting drunk, and causing trouble for the innocent people of the domain…”
The Grand Duke grimaced as if his head was throbbing.
Carlyle, going outside the castle walls and causing a ruckus again?
The mere thought was so aggravating that he felt his long-dormant migraines returning.
*‘Perhaps this is better. As he said, he isn't harming anyone.’*
The thought brought the Grand Duke some comfort.
“Yes, that is indeed better. Very well. If that’s what you must do to relieve your stress, then so be it. But I will not forgive you if you hurt or trouble anyone.”
“Yes, I’ll probably be over it in a few days, so don’t worry too much.”
“…”
The Grand Duke was utterly flabbergasted that Carlyle was now trying to reassure him.
“Is there anything else?”
“Why did you stop your training? I heard you quit on the first day.”
“I’m training separately.”
“Separately?”
“I’ve decided to train at dawn, so you don’t need to worry about that either. If you really don’t believe me, ask Maranello.”
“I see.”
The Grand Duke nodded.
*‘I suppose he wouldn’t want to show any weakness in front of everyone.’*
He wasn’t avoiding training entirely, just doing it differently. There was nothing more to nag him about.
At this point, he was starting to feel he had summoned Carlyle for nothing.
“Alright, I understand. If you insist on doing things your way, I won’t say any more.”
“Yes.”
With that, Carlyle turned and left the Grand Duke behind.
***
Late at night.
As the appointed time with Maranello approached, Carlyle took out the Transcendence Stone he had brought from the forgotten treasury.
*‘Please let there be something.’*
Carlyle clutched the Transcendence Stone, hoping that his own body—that of Carlyle van Sigmund—possessed even a sliver of talent.
If this character had no talent or potential whatsoever, it would be like throwing the expensive Transcendence Stone into the gutter.
*‘Come on, anything.’*
With that thought, Carlyle infused mana into the Transcendence Stone.
*Swoosh!*
The stone turned a golden color, and a warm sensation spread through his palm.
[Notification: The is searching for the user's latent talents.]
[Notification: Searching...]
Soon, the search results appeared before his eyes.
*Ting!*
[Notification: The has discovered the user's latent talents!]
The results were as follows.
[Notification: You have awakened !]
[Notification: You have awakened !]
*‘Weapon Master? Soul Soother Sword?’*
Even Carlyle, who had played the game [Overlord], had never heard of [Weapon Master] or [Soul Soother Sword].
[Weapon Master]
A talent for mastering all types of weapons.
Allows one to reach the ultimate level of mastery with any weapon they train.
Effect: All weapon proficiency +150%
“W-What is this?”
Carlyle was genuinely stunned.
He was so stunned that his voice was filled with utter shock.
“150%?”
He had never seen a talent like this before.
For example, talents specialized in swordsmanship like [Grand Swordmaster] or [Sword Fiend] only increased proficiency by 150% and 90%, respectively.
The one with the highest value, [Sword God], only boosted sword proficiency by 200%.
In other words, the character Carlyle van Sigmund was a genius capable of reaching the pinnacle of mastery with any weapon he held.
“…He had this kind of talent and lived like *that*?”
It was truly, utterly baffling.
If he had just lived a decent life, the position of head of the Sigmund family would have been his for the taking. To be born with the talent to vie for the title of the strongest, yet to live such a debauched life…
*‘Then, what on earth is Soul Soother Sword?’*
Carlyle looked into the real Carlyle's—that is, his own—second talent.
[Soul Soother Sword] was…