Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Soul Soother Sword
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[Soul Soother Sword]
A sword that soothes souls.
It reads the traces left behind by the deceased in this world—their lingering will—and absorbs their power.
It is a mystical ability that honors their last words and inherits their life's work.
‘Lingering will? Life's work?’
Since [Soul Soother Sword] was also an ability he'd never seen before, Carlyle couldn't quite grasp its meaning.
There was simply not enough information about the Soul Soother Sword to understand it completely.
‘Read and absorb the will of the dead? Last words are what someone says right before they die, and a life's work is something left unfinished. And I'm supposed to inherit that?’
He pondered it for a while but couldn't come up with any solid guesses.
He had a general idea, but it seemed he wouldn't truly understand its nature until he used the ability himself.
One thing was certain, however: the character known as Carlyle van Sigmund possessed an incredible latent talent.
Just having [Master of Arms], which boosted weapon proficiency by 500%, made getting stronger a matter of time. And on top of that, he had a unique ability called [Soul Soother Sword]?
If the real Carlyle had gotten his act together and dedicated himself to training, the history of this world might have been different.
To think he lived such a debauched life, completely unaware of it…
Even without the Transcendent Stone, if he had just put in a little effort to awaken his latent talent, he could have become a great hero.
‘Although, it might be my own talent.’
Carlyle considered the possibility that [Master of Arms] and [Soul Soother Sword] were his own unique abilities.
The proof was that [Master of Arms] and [Soul Soother Sword] had been added to his traits, which had been reset when he first possessed this body.
[Carlyle van Sigmund]
Race: Human
Age: 23
Status: Noble
Occupation: Unemployed (Scoundrel)
Traits: Master of Arms / Soul Soother Sword
Title: The North's Scoundrel
‘This should be more than enough to protect myself.’
At this point, he could say that using the Transcendent Stone was not a waste at all.
“Young Master, it is time for your training.”
Just then, Maranello came to find Carlyle.
“Ah.”
Carlyle tossed the Transcendent Stone, now just a worthless pebble, onto his bed and started walking.
“Time to train.”
“I expect you will not give up today, Young Master.”
Maranello said, holding the duster.
“Don't expect anything from me. I'll do just enough, and that's it.”
“Doing ‘just enough’ will not protect your life from your enemies. They will have been gritting their teeth and training relentlessly for the day they can take your life.”
“Ah, is that so?”
Hearing it put that way, he realized it wasn't wrong, so Carlyle didn't argue.
“I can't make any promises, but I'll at least try my best.”
“Excellent.”
Maranello smiled faintly.
* * *
Maranello took Carlyle completely outside the outer castle walls.
Because Carlyle wanted a quiet place where no one would see him, they had no choice but to leave the castle grounds.
After riding for about thirty minutes, they arrived at the ruins of an old castle, a place now lost to history.
The site had been razed during an invasion by barbarians some two hundred years ago, and now, completely deserted, it exuded a desolate atmosphere.
“No one will spot you here, Young Master.”
“This is good.”
Carlyle scanned the open area.
Though the surroundings were overgrown with all sorts of weeds, there was more than enough space to train.
“Where is this?”
“This was a training ground used by knights two hundred years ago.”
“I see.”
Carlyle nodded.
“So, you're the one who comes here in the dead of night to polish your skills?”
“Pardon?”
“You've been training here in secret.”
“Why would an old man like me have any reason to practice with a sword in the middle of the night? I am merely doing some exercises for my health. Haha.”
“Playing dumb, I see.”
Carlyle scoffed and drew his wooden sword.
“By the way, are you sure you don't need to do any physical conditioning?”
“Don't worry, we can skip it.”
“Very well. Then, come at me.”
Carlyle swung his sword according to the Sigmund family's swordsmanship he remembered.
*Swish!*
The sharp sound of the wooden sword cutting through the air seemed to speak to how much Carlyle's strength had increased.
*Clack, clack.*
Maranello lightly swung his duster, parrying Carlyle's sword.
The duster didn't break or anything of the sort.
However, Carlyle could clearly feel that the impact traveling up his arm was less than a tenth of what it used to be.
‘I can do this.’
Carlyle swung his sword again, aiming for Maranello.
*Clack, clack, clack, clack.*
*Tap.*
The tip of Maranello's duster lightly touched the side of Carlyle's neck.
“…I'm dead.”
“Swordsmanship is not about strength, Young Master.”
“You have to know when to apply strength and when to relax, depending on the situation?”
“Yes, Young Master. You still remember.”
Maranello smiled as Carlyle recalled the teachings of the Sigmund family.
“If you just swing blindly, you will only tire yourself out quickly.”
“I'll remember that.”
Carlyle took Maranello's advice to heart and swung his sword once more.
*Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, tap.*
“You have died again.”
“Again.”
*Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, tap.*
“You are dead.”
“Again.”
And so the sparring continued.
‘Hm?’
Maranello suddenly felt that Carlyle's skill was improving in real time.
It felt like their exchanges were lasting one or two moves longer with each bout.
‘His old memories must be returning.’
Maranello simply attributed Carlyle's rapid improvement to that.
After all, Carlyle had trained seriously in swordsmanship when he was young and had been quite talented.
In truth, what was even more surprising was his stamina.
“I'm going again.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Even though they had already sparred more than ten times, Carlyle's breathing hadn't faltered in the slightest.
Just two days ago, he would have been gasping for breath and collapsing after just a few swings…
‘His stamina has improved too? Hah.’
It wasn't enough that he had gained monstrous strength overnight; for his stamina to improve this much as well was truly an absurd change.
Just as Maranello sensed the change, Carlyle too was aware of how much he had transformed.
[Notification: Swordsmanship proficiency has increased by 1.]
[Notification: Swordsmanship proficiency has increased by 1.]
(Omitted)
He could see his proficiency increasing in real time through the status window, and he could feel it in his body as well.
[Notification: Swordsmanship proficiency level has increased!]
[Notification: Swordsmanship proficiency has reached Level 2!]
…And that was as far as it went.
“That's enough for today.”
Carlyle declared the end of their training.
“Pardon?”
Maranello furrowed his brow, as if asking what he meant.
They had only been training for an hour, and he was already quitting?
“But, Young Master. Why do you wish to stop?”
“It's tiring.”
“You still seem full of energy, though…?”
“I am full of energy.”
Carlyle readily admitted.
“But I don't want to do any more.”
“You must continue.”
“Why?”
“Training is something where one must push their limits every single day. If you stop just because it's a little difficult…”
“What am I supposed to do if I have no motivation?”
“Pardon…?”
“I don't know how to explain it, but I just don't want to put in the effort.”
Carlyle was being sincere.
In fact, Carlyle himself couldn't understand why he felt that way.
As he'd told Maranello, his stamina wasn't just fine; he had energy to spare.
At this rate, it felt like he could train all night without getting tired.
Despite that, he felt no motivation.
It was as if his mind would reject any effort the moment his body felt the slightest bit of strain.
He didn't know if this was a habit ingrained in this body or a remnant of the lethargy he had suffered from in his past life.
“Young Master, even the most talented person cannot grow stronger without effort.”
“I know that much.”
“But then why…”
“I guess effort is a talent too.”
“…Young Master.”
Maranello squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to suppress a surge of anger.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but that's how I feel right now.”
“…I understand.”
In the end, the training session, far from heating up, ended on a lukewarm note.
* * *
The next day,
and the day after, the result was the same.
His swordsmanship proficiency steadily increased, but Carlyle's training time didn't lengthen at all.
“Young Master, this is truly problematic. Your life is on the line. Even if you don't feel like it, you must make an effort…”
“I know. I am trying. But what can I do when my body won't move?”
Carlyle was just as frustrated.
In a few months, he would be thrown onto a battlefield, and he had no desire to have his head lopped off by some nameless barbarian warrior.
He didn't need to train for a thousand years, but shouldn't he at least be strong enough to protect himself if he wanted to survive?
“You head back first. I'll practice my stances alone and then return.”
“No, Young Master. This old man will stay by your side…”
“Then wait on the outskirts. I'll try it alone.”
“As you wish.”
After Maranello had left,
“Ugh. Ughhh.”
Carlyle gritted his teeth and tried to force himself to try, but his body stubbornly refused to move.
It was as if his body rejected the very notion of effort, making it difficult to even lift a finger.
‘Am I cursed or something?’
Things were so bad that such a thought even crossed his mind.
‘Was the saying ‘effort is a talent too’ not just a joke after all?’
It was then, while Carlyle was lost in thought.
*Ting!*
The status window appeared.
[Notification: A trace left by the deceased has been detected.]
[Notification: A lingering will remains somewhere nearby.]
‘A lingering will?’
[Lingering Will]
A human soul imbued in a specific place or object.
Only a person with the ability of the Soul Soother Sword can read and absorb that soul.
‘Is it like a place or object steeped in regret?’
Even after reading the status window, he still didn't have a clear grasp of it.
However, he couldn't help but be curious about the part that said he could read and absorb a lingering will.
He had been curious about this Soul Soother Sword ability anyway, so this was a perfect opportunity.
Since his attempts to force himself to try had been failing, investigating this seemed like a good way to clear his head.
‘Let's go.’
Carlyle focused his mind and began walking toward the source of the lingering will.
After walking about a hundred meters,
in a patch of waist-high bushes, a set of footprints that seemed to belong to a single person was emitting a faint light.
‘The footprints are glowing?’
Curious, Carlyle drew his real sword and cut away the surrounding grass.
The footprints, which had been hidden by the bushes, became much clearer.
[Notification: A lingering will has been discovered.]
[Notification: Reading the trace left by the deceased.]
Soon, an entirely different scene unfolded before Carlyle's eyes.
It belonged to a knight who had lived two hundred years ago.