Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Pelludium Friendly Match
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A zombie was staggering right in front of me.
It wasn't Clara on her way to work.
She couldn't even get off work in the first place...
Anyway, this zombie was a new face.
Ethan pitifully watched Noel staggering along, his face as pale as his snow-white hair.
"Friend, you feeling unwell anywhere?"
"...Muscle soreness."
"Good lord, muscle soreness? What on earth did you do? Friend!"
At Ethan's question, Noel shot me a glare.
Reading the look, Ethan sidled up to me.
"Friend, what happened?"
"I just helped him with some training."
For real.
I'd already been overseeing Noel's training for over a week now.
The abandoned training grounds meant no prying eyes, so I ramped up the intensity day by day, hell-bent on turning it into a real hellscape.
Thanks to that, there were rumors floating around about screams echoing from the woods or sounds of someone dying... but whatever, ignore them.
"You didn't push him too hard, did you?"
"He won't die from this much."
If anything, a little overdoing it was just right.
What Noel, who already had the potential, needed wasn't honing his skills—it was the mental side.
Erasing his self-doubt and building trust in himself.
Right now, Noel had severe trust issues with people, and that included himself.
Even a rat will bite a cat when cornered.
In the main story of Broken World, Noel awakens only when pushed to the brink of crisis.
The bigger the crisis, the weaker his mentality, the stronger he rebounds—like some kind of backlash.
It's not a normal trait.
He was made that way because he has to follow Leon.
No reason not to exploit that point, so I'm rolling with it full steam ahead.
"Even so, it feels like you overworked him..."
"The path to becoming a hero is always thorny, right?"
"True enough. Guess I need to up my training intensity too."
Leon quietly nodded in agreement.
You... tone it down instead.
You're already doing training no human could handle.
"Well, his own opinion matters most. Noel, you hurting bad?"
"......"
Noel silently glared at me.
Not pretending to glare—he was really glaring.
The venom in his eyes meant the training was working properly.
"His eyes look different somehow..."
"You've got good instincts for once, Ethan."
"He's really okay, right...?"
"He won't die, he won't die."
If anything, good that he's got some venom in him now.
He'll step out as a gunner soon enough.
Above all, it was a relief that Leon and Ethan were naturally sticking close to Noel.
Back when he first joined, he might've bolted, but now they're even talking.
With all his focus on training, the unnecessary worries and suspicions have dialed down.
Though on the flip side, I'm getting royally hated... but let's not sweat that.
Anyway, who appreciates my sacrifices—earning this hate to protect the world?
-You're just scheming to live easy, what nonsense is this?
Don't hit me with facts like a coward.
As I inwardly clicked my tongue, Ethan laced his fingers behind his head and chuckled lightly.
"Noel’s benched today!"
"Me too."
"Pelludium’s way more fun playing it yourself!"
"Getting dragged out on the weekend already makes it suck."
Today was Saturday.
No lectures, but... a friendly match against the second-years was scheduled for Pelludium lecture practice.
Pelludium... simply put, Broken World’s version of soccer.
Basic rules similar to soccer, but eight players per team.
Royals as goalkeepers, Guardians as defenders, Knights as forwards, Heralds as midfielders-ish positions.
Dig into the details—only one Royal and one Herald per team, Guardians and Knights can't cross the center line, only Royals can use sword auras or magic...
Similar to soccer but with a fantasy twist.
Spectacle makes it flashy to watch, popular across the continent.
Whatever, back in the game days, it was one of my favorite minigames.
Popped up sporadically in the story, so it was always a tease...
Pretty polished, honestly—if Pelludium had been the main content instead of the story, it might not have gotten the trash game rep.
Anyway, friendly match today.
I'm bench fodder, so I'll just spectate casually.
"......I figured, but it's brutal."
Halftime, and already 2-0.
Obviously, the first-years were losing.
Opponents were second-years—experience gap shows.
I knew it.
Still can't help feeling off watching us lose.
Especially since I haven't lost once after getting used to Pelludium.
"That guy's the problem—if he wasn't there, we could've hung in there."
Just then, that guy—Kyriakos, out as Herald—passed to a second-year Knight on the flank.
But a Guardian Ethan was waiting in front of the Knight.
Ethan was pressuring with his massive frame, but it must've been calculated.
The second-year Knight immediately passed back to Kyriakos.
Ethan, who'd stepped up to pressure, was too late to block Kyriakos.
After a perfect give-and-go, Kyriakos broke straight to goal.
The first-year Royal hastily raised an earth barrier with magic, but Kyriakos's shot was faster.
Tweet~!
The referee's cheerful whistle blew, scoreboard updated to 3-0.
Basically Kyriakos's one-man show.
"Why's he so good at Pelludium...?"
He was supposed to be an emotionless vengeful ghost.
Never saw him in a Pelludium match in Broken World.
Shaking my head at the baffling sight, the referee crossed the field.
Looking closer, one first-year Knight was clutching his ankle, collapsed.
"Unable to continue!"
Ref's call was swift.
But it was our starting first-year who'd twisted his ankle.
Our slim shot at victory? Gone.
Who'd sub in from the bench?
Me, ideally.
As I thought that, Pelludium prof Paulu lightly tapped my shoulder.
"You're up. Get ready."
"Huh? Me?"
Suddenly? Me?
I'm on the bench 'cause my stamina sucks compared to the others?
Blinking in surprise, Paulu nodded seriously.
"It's a sub—so don't hold back on stamina. Just create space. Got it?"
"Yeah... sure."
No backing out of this vibe.
Headed to the field, high-fived the subbing player.
Stepping in, the scent of grass wafted up.
"Same position, Knight. Let's do this."
Leon, same role as me, came over.
He'd been left wing, now shifting right for me.
No need to baby me—just run.
"Let's give it a go."
Patted Leon's back.
Didn't expect to actually play...
Game's one-sided anyway.
No way I'd get flak.
So, within the rules, anything goes.
Can't end a rare playtime at 0.
Game restarted—I scanned quick.
Amid the back-and-forth, opponent's flank pushed up, leaving a slight gap.
Just enough for one person to slip through.
Perfect.
Eyed Ethan and Leon, dashed to the open space.
They read me—Ethan snatched the ball from the second-year, passed to Leon.
Leon curved it to my feet.
Smooth connection.
Some skill there.
Blind spot penetrated, only the Royal to block me.
Not far apart.
Controlled and smashed it full force.
Second-year Royal deployed magic.
Ice barrier sprang up—instant declaration of no goals allowed.
But the moment I struck, I knew.
It's in.
The ball hooked sharply.
Slipped the side the ice couldn't cover.
Smashed the net hard.
Silence blanketed the field.
Confirmed it through the clear ice, caught my breath.
Running myself—breath ragged.
Head buzzing, sweat soaking, legs tingling.
But goal scored.
Right as I thought of cheering.
"Theo! You did it! My friend!!"
Ethan barreled into me first, whooping.
Like getting hit by a one-ton truck—flattened starfish on the grass.
Then cheers erupted from the first-years.
"Nice Pelludium skills."
Leon approached, offered a hand.
Grabbed it, stood.
"Training?"
"Something like that."
Lived two years where eating and soccer was it.
Weird if no skills stuck.
Stamina's the issue.
Dusted off, glanced at the stands.
Not many spectators, but applauding.
Savoring it, spotted familiar faces.
The forerunners mixed in the crowd.
No way—the raid Eligor mentioned is today?
Eyed Noel on the bench.
Our eyes met—he glared like a nearsighted guy straining.
Shrugged, nodded toward the forerunners in the stands.
Got the message—he quietly stood.
In that instant, his golden eyes gleamed like real gold.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeeet~!
Three whistles.
End of match.
Kneeling, gasping.
Pushed too hard—heart about to burst.
Vision spinning, not sure if I'm even breathing right.
One word: dying.
Fought hard—scored one more, assisted Leon's second.
Tied it up barely, but Kyriakos netted another. Final 4-3.
Heartbreaking loss.
Regret.
Could've at least drawn.
Flopped starfish on the field, heaving.
-Worried about a raid, and you're burning stamina?
Fine, fine.
Profs here, Leon and Ethan too.
Noel moved first—no ambush risk.
Worst case, drag Kyriakos along.
Not night anyway—awkward fighting myself.
Dimensional magic support's more mana than stamina anyway.
-Ultimately, you're doing jack squat...
Spot on, demon sword.
That's why I prepped...
"Sorry. Support was late."
Sweat-drenched Leon bowed solemnly.
His dark cocoa hair glistened wet.
"Friendly match—what's to apologize? Win next time."
Breath steady now.
Stood—Ethan shook out his silver hair sparkling with sweat, grinned.
"We didn't get steamrolled at least? Win next! Yeah!"
"Impressive spirit, first-years."
Kyriakos approached, retying his hair.
Skill aside, full game and barely winded—scariest part.
"Senior, you play Pelludium too?"
"Normally no. But figured you'd play, so I came back."
"Me?"
"Wanted to show the reviver's skills, but failed."
Nah, four goals solo—what failure?
Image was rabid vengeance machine, emotions ditched—yet here, oddly... guy's a bit off too.
Bang!
Gunshot rocked the field around then.
Sudden blast—silence fell.
A man-sized bee dropped between me and Kyriakos.