Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: A Devoted Reader's Reformation Life
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<—>
While plucking the lute in honor of Zhuge Liang's noble intentions, one thing became clear.
The core was undoubtedly his own, yet traces of Sion Claussen still lingered in parts of this body.
Proof of that: he'd never played the lute before, yet he handled it effortlessly.
‘Sion Claussen wasn't completely clueless about swordsmanship.
Swinging it around roughly should be fine.’
He called himself a knight destined to shoulder the kingdom's future or whatever, but in the end, he was just a candidate.
Above all, right now Ludwig was blinded by the intense temptation to show off his cool side, reduced to a complete idiot who couldn't see straight.
“Shall we begin?”
He oozed such overconfident ease it was practically dripping off him.
He was clearly underestimating Sion badly—probably because Sion had always dodged spars with Ludwig.
‘I have no idea what that idiot was thinking, picking fights with Kim Yu-hyun like that. Damn.’
It might've been better if Kim Yu-hyun had been a bit more bloodthirsty.
Kim Yu-hyun, who went soft the moment he saw someone weaker or pitiful.
And Sion Claussen, who exploited that relentlessly, hounding him to the bitter end.
“I can even let you have the first strike.”
Ludwig struck a pose, as if inviting him to come at him.
Did he think that looked impressive?
All Sion saw was some punk with a wooden sword, strutting around like a thug.
‘Fine, I won't hold back then.’
He decided to test just how well this body could swing a sword.
Sion charged forward and brought his blade down vertically.
The wooden sword felt heavier than expected, and he worried that if it connected properly, it might actually kill the guy.
Fear flickered that a counterattack could leave him seriously hurt, but the sword swung true all the same.
It wasn't bad.
Evidently, he'd handled a sword enough to manage that much on his own.
But that was as far as it went.
“Too slow!”
Clack!
Ludwig parried Sion's attack effortlessly with his own swing.
It was exactly as expected. Sure, this body had swung a sword before, but compared to Ludwig, it was child's play.
In the original story, Kim Yu-hyun had lopped off one of his arms, leaving him unable to wield a blade properly anyway.
‘Oh, shit.
Look at my hand tingling.’
Just from wooden swords clashing, his hand buzzed like it was vibrating.
The stinging pain made him wonder what would've happened if this were real steel.
“Is that it?
Sion Claussen?”
“...Yeah.
Looks like it.”
“Then it's my turn.”
How should he toy with him?
Overwhelm him relentlessly until he collapsed on his own?
Or target gaps obsessively, leaving him groaning in pain for a while?
Ludwig wanted to smash that annoying face, but he held back, knowing the backlash would be massive.
‘Legs first.’
Aiming to shatter his balance and send him tumbling to the arena floor, Ludwig swung.
Or rather, he tried to.
“Surrender.”
...Huh?
Ludwig, charging in with full momentum, stopped dead in his tracks.
Surrender?
What the hell did he mean, surrender?
Had that one blocked attack made him give up?
“What are you doing, Sion Claussen?”
“Surrendering.”
Sion's hands were raised slightly, showing zero intent to defend.
It was such a perfect display of surrender that Ludwig felt his drive drain away in an instant.
He'd known the guy was a coward, but he figured once in a duel, he'd put up some fight.
Instead, the moment his attack was blocked, he folded.
“Ha.”
Dumbfounded, Ludwig trudged over to stand before Sion.
He'd never seen anyone so spineless and weak.
The Redenen Marquis Family's ironclad rule was that anyone stepping into battle must fight with the resolve to die. It was a knight's pride, a soldier's duty.
Yet this guy—this supposed eldest son of the Claussen Margrave Territory, prime heir to the kingdom's shield known as Claussen, this damn pretty-boy punk!
“Pathetic!
Disappointing, Sion Claussen!”
“Yeah.
You fell for it, didn't you?”
...Huh?
Something tapped against his throat.
Ludwig glanced down to see what it was.
At some point, Sion had lowered one arm from his surrender pose, pointing his wooden sword at Ludwig's neck.
“W-what the hell are you doing?”
“When you point at the throat, the duel ends, right?
I pointed at yours, not the other way around.
Winner: me. Loser: you.
Got it, oh great knight candidate?”
“You... what the hell are you trying to pull...”
Ludwig couldn't comprehend it.
Using such a cheap trick in a duel?
Deceiving your opponent in the sacred arena of swordsmanship?
“You wanted to see the swordplay I used on the battlefield.
I showed you.”
“Bullshit!
That's just a prank!
You bastard, are you insulting me?”
“Got a problem? Do it again.
Your call?”
Ludwig gritted his teeth and accepted Sion's casual challenge.
He'd already yielded first strike once, and this dirtbag had pulled that stunt against him. Next round, he'd blitz him and end it instantly.
‘Filthy dog!
Pretty face, but everything he does is trash!’
Ludwig had a decent eye for people, at least.
The problem was that the Sion Claussen in front of him was no longer Sion Claussen.
“Let's go, Ludwig.”
Thud!
The words barely left his mouth before Ludwig kicked off the ground, lunging at Sion.
He wanted to crack his skull, but that could cause real trouble, so he aimed for a light injury instead.
Sion took a defensive stance, but it was full of openings he could exploit.
It was obvious he'd swung a sword a few times, but never refined it into anything systematic or precise.
‘It's over, you bastard!’
Nope.
Idiot.
Sion cackled, kicking out hard without a second's hesitation.
Pffft!
“Gah!”
From the moment Ludwig bellowed in rage, Sion had been scraping the arena floor, gathering sand and dust on his shoes.
The fine, soft grains wouldn't hurt if he fell, but kicked up, they formed a thick cloud.
Drenched in it instantly, Ludwig flailed, his speed dropping.
The blurred vision was bad enough, but the grit in his eyes stung too much to do anything.
“Fell for it again, huh?”
Clack.
Sion cackled as he pressed his sword to the floundering Ludwig's throat again.
It ended so cleanly, so perfectly.
The self-proclaimed future top knight froze in place, utterly baffled.
“W-what the hell are you doing?
Twice—twice now you've used tricks in this sacred swordsmanship duel...”
“You wanted battlefield swordplay.
Wasn't that your request?
I did exactly what you asked, so why are you complaining? I'm the one who doesn't get it.
Ludwig Redenen.”
“Of course!
How could a knight use tricks!
It's cowardly!
Petty!
Dirty!
And you used it twice in the open, you...”
“Then you're the knight who's supposed to shoulder the kingdom's future, falling twice for cowardly, petty, dirty tricks?”
Tap, tap.
Sion prodded Ludwig's Adam's apple lightly with the sword tip, his face cold as he continued.
“I don't know what bullshit fantasy you're clinging to, but I'll clue you in, since you've never seen a real battlefield.
In combat, there's only one cowardly act: running away without fighting.
Everything else is fair game in war.
You've been cooped up swinging swords at home, so you don't know how the world works. Listen up to big bro here.
Don't regret it later when blood starts flying.”
For the record, they were the same age.
Big bro was a stretch.
For now.
“I was gonna go easy at first, but you kept belittling war and demanding to see the swordplay I used there, so I changed my mind.
This big bro's giving your little Ruby a special lesson so his throat doesn't go flying off like this someday.”
“Bullshit!
As if I'd fall for such petty...”
“You do fall for it.
Knight or not, blades still cut throats.
The process might be tough, but the end's the same.
If this were a real war right now, I'd be alive, and you'd be dead.
Twice over.”
Sion sheathed his wooden sword and patted his shoulder, chuckling.
The guy who'd been thrilled at the thought of crushing him moments ago now glared with a shit-eating look, and it was so damn satisfying he felt like dancing.
“Again!
Rematch, Sion Claussen!
One more time!”
“Sheesh, how desperate.
Once, I might forgive, but after two losses, you want another?
No shame?”
“Grr!”
“Everyone's watching, and it'll look weird.
Even if you win one more, it's still 2:1 my decision victory.
Just end it clean at 2:0, Ludwig?”
“You only won with tricks!”
“No war in the world counts a tricked win as a loss.
Duels are just prep for that war, so get used to it quick.”
“I won't accept it!
One more.
Rematch!”
Sion stepped forward, closing in on Ludwig.
Ludwig tensed, wondering if another trick was coming.
But Sion dropped his wooden sword with a clack right in front of him and whispered in his ear.
“Listen, Ludwig.”
“...?”
“I don't listen to the weak.”
With that chest-thumping line straight out of Bloodman, Sion utterly sank Ludwig.
In his twenty-odd years of life—well, twenty years exactly—he'd never been called weak before.
Flabbergasted, furious, speechless after two straight losses, Ludwig Redenen could only gape at Sion.
‘Fuck, that felt amazing.’
Finally screwing over the guy who'd treated him like a bug since forever (even if it wasn't really him), plus two sweet victories to boot.
His swordplay was mediocre at best, enough to exploit gaps, but Ludwig was just a kid who swung steel well without grasping the world's truths.
Justice belongs in courtrooms, not killing fields.
That's just loser's insurance.
A bullshit policy claiming the enemy fought unfairly.
Winning matters most. Beat the enemy, and you're done.
No more to it.
Win, and you're a hero; lose, and you're trash—no matter what you did.
‘Huh.’
As Sion walked away, his eyes met someone else's.
No clue when he'd shown up, but a burly middle-aged man—built like a prime youth—was watching him and Ludwig alternate.
Sion stopped and bowed politely.
“Marquis.”
Volco Redenen, current head of House Redenen, a man who'd earned merits in countless wars.
Father to the idiot standing there dumbfounded, and in a rather ambiguous relationship with the Lichten Margrave.
“It's been a while, Sion Claussen.”
“Has it?”
“So, how was it?”
“Pardon?”
The abrupt question threw Sion off.
Was he asking how it felt to beat his son with tricks?
If that was it, he needed to choose his words carefully.
No parent takes kindly to someone messing with their kid.
“You personally showed my son the swordplay you used in war.”
“Right.”
“Then tell me, what was that war you endured like?”
Sion looked up slightly, meeting Volco's gaze.
Cold eyes, but no blame aimed his way.
He didn't seem bothered by his son's loss to dirty tricks.
If anything, he looked intrigued, clearly fascinated by this suddenly changed Sion Claussen.
‘The man before me is a gentleman noble compared to Ludwig.’
Sion's mind raced.
What to say to win this marquis over?
How to rub it in Ludwig's face for a clean 3:0 sweep?
“...War.”
He didn't deliberate long.
Sion lowered his voice as much as possible, mustering a somber atmosphere.
As if recalling that nightmare day sent shivers down his spine and tears to his eyes.
“War is sweet and glorious only to those who've never experienced it.”
“...”
No reply came.
But the reaction was clear.
Volco's eyebrow arched, as if saying, ‘This guy's something.’
That sealed it.
Ludwig had lost to Sion again.
3:0!
‘Father, this unworthy son thanks you from the heart!
Kee-yak!’
He'd never been more grateful for that ‘Badass One-Liner Collection’ his tipsy dad had impulse-bought one day, riding a vibe.