Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: An Unwelcome Encounter
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That afternoon.
“Ugh.”
Carlyle awoke, his body wracked with pain.
*Shudder...*
Every muscle in his body trembled like a leaf, screaming in protest.
His back, arms, legs, shoulders, waist—not a single part of him didn't ache.
'It's all good, but there's no way to control it.'
Carlyle was astonished by the effects of .
To think that not wanting to lift a finger would lead to him training until he collapsed from exhaustion.
*Ding!*
[Notice: Swordsmanship has reached Level 3.]
[Notice: Due to the effect of , your proficiency level for all weapon types has been inherited as Level 3.]
He was even more surprised when he looked at his status window.
Not only had his swordsmanship jumped from Level 1 to 3, but that proficiency had also been passed on to all other weapons.
In other words, whether he wielded a sword or a spear, he could demonstrate Level 3 proficiency.
It seemed raised his proficiency with all weapons, even if he only trained with one.
'Literally a master of arms.'
Just as Carlyle was marveling at this internally.
“Young Master, how are you feeling?”
Evangeline approached and handed Carlyle a glass of warm water.
She had recently been learning the fundamentals of being a handmaiden under Maranello.
Of course, she wasn't just learning the duties of a handmaiden.
As a very precious individual, she was receiving the full support of the Sigmund family.
Grand Duke Guntram had arranged for excellent tutors to cultivate Evangeline's education, provided learning opportunities for her younger siblings, and paid her a salary at least three times that of an average knight.
Though her station was that of a handmaiden, she was effectively being treated as a noble.
In fact, it was only a matter of time before Evangeline became a noble herself.
If she developed well, she would be given the opportunity to marry into the Sigmund bloodline or even be granted her own surname.
“It hurts. A lot.”
“Here's a recovery potion, Young Master.”
Carlyle gulped down the potion Evangeline offered.
*Shaaaa!*
A refreshing sensation filled his mouth, and he could feel the muscle aches tormenting his body begin to subside.
“How are your spirit arts studies?”
“I'm working hard, Young Master.”
“Good, keep it up. You have a talent for it.”
“Yes.”
Evangeline replied with a smile.
She always felt good whenever Carlyle spoke with such conviction.
He was the first to recognize her talent, one no one else had noticed, and he even encouraged her.
Moreover, though he was a bit prickly, she was pleased that he wasn't the scoundrel she had expected.
While he had committed all sorts of eccentric and wicked acts in the past, the current Carlyle showed no trace of that behavior.
Although, she was still a little anxious.
“You're awake, Young Master.”
Maranello entered with a bright smile.
“Something good happen? Why are you grinning like that?”
“Indeed there is. Most certainly.”
“...?”
“Please wash up and come out. I will prepare some tea for you, Young Master.”
Carlyle frowned at Maranello's uncharacteristically kind demeanor, but he soon shrugged it off and hurried to the bathroom.
He felt extremely grimy, having passed out without getting to wash.
* * *
After washing up, drinking tea to clear his head, and finishing a very late breakfast.
'The Soul Soother Sword.'
Carlyle took some time to contemplate his ability.
'Inheriting power through the traces a deceased person left in this world? Does this mean I can acquire multiple abilities as long as I can find their Lingering Wills?'
Having experienced it once, he could now truly feel how incredible the Soul Soother Sword was.
To be able to inherit the fruits of a dead person's life's work without any cost...
Of course, he first had to find the places or objects where their souls lingered.
'Huh?'
Carlyle suddenly realized that a strong spirit resided in the necklace around his neck.
It was something he hadn't been able to sense before absorbing the Lingering Will of the nameless knight.
'This is...'
A necklace with a purple amethyst.
It was a memento left by Carlyle van Sigmund's mother, Adelia.
[Notice: Cannot read the Lingering Will.]
But even though he could feel the strong spirit residing within it, a message appeared saying he couldn't read the Lingering Will.
'Why can't I read it? Is my level still too low?'
It seemed that simply discovering a Lingering Will wasn't enough; some kind of specific condition was required.
'I'll find out in time.'
With that thought, Carlyle started walking.
“Young Master, where are you going? Are you off to train again?”
Maranello asked with a bright smile.
His eyes were kinder and deeper than usual, brimming with anticipation.
“I did plenty yesterday. What more do you want? My whole body is still aching.”
When Carlyle retorted bluntly, Maranello said smoothly.
“Young Master, it is said that the best way to recover from muscle soreness is to move your body. Don't push yourself like yesterday, just a light—”
“Not happening.”
“But even just a little—”
“No.”
“Young Master...”
Carlyle scowled in disgust at Maranello's expression, a perfect mix of disappointment and regret.
'No wonder he was being nicer than usual. He's itching to make me train.'
But Carlyle wasn't about to fall for it.
“Making that face won't work. I'm resting today.”
“Hmph. Then, where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“I shall accompany you, Young Master.”
“No, it's fine.”
Carlyle waved his hand dismissively.
“I'm going alone today.”
“Pardon?”
“You're not my nanny, are you? And I'm not a child.”
“But...”
“You know what'll happen if you follow me, right?”
Carlyle made a subtle threat with his characteristically dry, expressionless face.
It was a look that said, *Just try following me, and I'll act like a scoundrel again. It's been a while since you've seen me cause trouble, hasn't it?*
“...I understand.”
In the end, Maranello reluctantly backed down.
He was worried that if he insisted on following, Carlyle might actually revert to his scoundrel ways.
“See you later.”
With that, Carlyle grabbed his coat and left the room.
'Lingering Will, Lingering Will.'
The reason Carlyle had gone for a walk alone was none other than to find a Lingering Will.
A Lingering Will was the spirit of the deceased, dwelling in a specific place or object.
To find one, he had no choice but to wander around.
* * *
Carlyle set out on his walk, wandering aimlessly at first.
“I-It's Young Master Carlyle.”
“Oh, damn it!”
“What are you doing? Look down.”
The moment Carlyle appeared, the territory's residents scattered in all directions as if they had encountered a plague.
Experience had taught them that no one ever came out well after getting involved with this damn scoundrel, so they knew the best course of action was to discreetly slip away.
'Nice.'
Carlyle was quite pleased with the residents' reaction.
He preferred to be alone, and there was nothing more tiring than being surrounded by a crowd of people.
Thanks to them, Carlyle could stroll freely through the streets, examining his surroundings.
'Nothing.'
But finding a Lingering Will was no easy task.
In game terms, it was like combing through every nook and cranny of the map.
Doing it in reality was quite an ordeal.
On the other hand, it occurred to him that discovering a Lingering Will was probably not meant to be easy.
'Right. Cases like that can't be common.'
A Lingering Will required the deceased to have left behind a powerful trace during their life.
People who achieved great deeds or possessed intense desires were bound to be rare.
'Still, I should keep looking. You never know.'
As he searched here and there with that thought in mind.
“Hehe! Brother Carlyle!”
“Oh? Fancy seeing you here.”
As he was walking down a dead-end alley, the brothers Hector and Gunter stealthily appeared from the other side.
They say enemies meet on a narrow bridge; to think he'd run into them when Maranello wasn't with him.
'This can't be a coincidence.'
A cold smile formed on Carlyle's lips.
There was no reason for Hector and Gunter to be loitering in a shabby back alley like this.
Carlyle was certain the brothers had been following him.
“Brother~ why are you all alone~? Where'd that old geezer Maranello go~?”
“Yeah, where~?”
Hector and Gunter sneered as they closed in on Carlyle.
“What're you gonna do~? The old geezer Maranello isn't here to help you~?”
“Is it just the geezer~? There's not even a single ant around~? Hehe!”
This was a secluded back alley.
Despite it being broad daylight, it was so deserted that there was practically no one coming or going.
“You're right. Not a single ant around.”
Carlyle replied with a smile.
'Yes, I need to crush these two. They're nothing but trouble.'
If you had to name the real scoundrels in the Sigmund family, it was actually Hector and Gunter.
They were just mischievous boys now, not yet adults, but it would be a different story in ten years when the game truly began.
The Hector and Gunter that Carlyle knew were destined to become the black sheep of the Sigmund family.
They would not only obstruct Frey at every turn but also cause problems with their arrogant and pigheaded actions.
And...
'They're the first ones to betray you when the player's situation gets dire.'
Hector and Gunter were also fated to become the first traitors in the history of the Sigmund family.
While they wouldn't collude with enemy forces beforehand, they were the type to abandon the Sigmund family's honor and flee when things got tough.
In short, they would tarnish the family's honor and hold back their younger brother, Frey.
'If I leave them be, they'll just become more of a nuisance later. I need to nip this in the bud right here.'
Carlyle felt the need to deal with Hector and Gunter, for his own sake and for the sake of the protagonist, Frey.
“Why aren't you running away~?”
“Oh? Looks like brother Carlyle's gotten a bit of courage, has he?”
The brothers, Hector and Gunter, were now right in front of him.
“Brother, how about we have a nice little chat for old times' sake?”
The moment Hector tried to place a hand on Carlyle's shoulder.
*BAM!*
Carlyle's fist slammed into Hector's solar plexus.
“......!”
Hector froze as if he'd been electrocuted.
Then, his body shuddered violently before he doubled over and started spewing out the contents of his stomach.
“Uweeeeggh!”
*Splat.* Hector collapsed into the puddle of his own vomit.
“Huk, huk, huk, huk, huuuuk!”
The impact was so great that Hector couldn't even breathe properly.
He had unleashed the nameless knight's thrust, , with his bare fist, and its destructive power was so immense that it had incapacitated Hector in a single blow.
“W-What the!”
The startled Gunter rushed to check on Hector, but Carlyle didn't allow it.
*CRACK!*
Carlyle's kick struck Gunter squarely in the face as he bent down to check on Hector.
*Splat!*
“Agh!”
Gunter went flying backward, blood gushing from his nose.
“Right. Let's have that nice little chat.”
Carlyle approached the brothers, Gunter and Hector, his face devoid of expression.