Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

The search for the owner of the Numbering Sword.

It wasn’t a small number of people who came to the announced place.

Of course, most of them were onlookers.

It was rare to have a chance to witness a fight and even look at highly skilled swordmen.

Would this contest meet their expectations?

As the contest drew nearer, the figures emitting dangerous pressure began to appear in the vacant lot one by one.

All of them were unusual.

Some of them had a great reputation, so great in fact that even the darkest places in the world knew their faces.

“Look! Crochet! The one who uses dual swords!”

“It’s Samir! He’s known to be the most talented one among the mercenaries with gold cards…”

“Randel is here! Even Randel is participating!”

“If so, then the chance of Charlotte and Victor winning won’t be high, right?”

“Kuvar, are the ones these people talking about famous?”

“Famous? Crochet is a young one from the north, and Samir is a veteran swordsman who has been well known for the past 15 years. Randel, Charlotte and Victor are the strongest ones too.”

“I see. This is new.”

Lulu said while chewing on dried fish.

Irene, too, nodded.

Those people who were mentioned in the crowd had a formidable air around them.

‘And those whose names are unknown…. There are a lot who look strong.’

It was when he was thinking that.

There was a commotion in the distance. As Irene strained his eyes, he looked at a man approaching the crowd.

It was Vulcanus. It was impressive to see the sloppy appearance of the dwarf blacksmith.

But he wasn’t alone.

There was one dwarf of the same body type. And then a human who seemed to be 2 meters tall.

Those who saw them shouted.

“So it isn’t just Vulcanus?”

“There is Dwanson too!”

“And Pablo is next to him!”

“Pablo? The best human blacksmith?”

The place was buzzing at the unexpected appearance.

Not just the spectators, but even the swordsmen who were there to compete were shocked.

In such a chaotic atmosphere, Vulcanus went up to the podium.

“Silence! Let me speak.”

The voice seemed to be amplified by a magic tool.

There was a bit of annoyance in his voice.

The crowd went silent. At least, here, the dwarf was king.

After the noise subsided, he spoke.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, so please understand. As everyone knows, the prize for the contest is a sword I made. The 10th Numbering Sword. I see the swordsmen around.”

“…”

“I’m sorry, but I may not be able to give you the Numbering Sword.”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Then why decide to hold the contest?”

“Well, this, this is a mess…”

“Quiet! Let me talk!”

Vulcanus maximized the output of the tool.

Like before, everyone became silent at his sensitive attitude, which was unusual.

With a grim expression on his face, he explained.

“I will explain the rules of the contest. First of all, any two who are confident will come up and fight. After the match, the loser goes down, and the winner remains, and the next opponent arrives. Of course, you can give up if your strength runs out. In that case, two new people will come up and fight. And that process will repeat. When all participants have shown their swordsmanship, the contest is over. Ah, and if I don’t like it, I will discard the winner.”

“What kind of a rule…”

“This isn’t a contest for the winner.”

“…”

“To make the 10th Numbering Sword… the purpose of this contest is to pick out the one who can give me inspiration. Do you understand? By the way, Dwanson and Pablo, who are next to me, are here for the same purpose.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Kuvar nodded.

It was the same for Lulu and even Irene, who understood it.

Vulcanus has no intention of picking a winner from a fair contest.

The goal is to get inspiration that will help him create a sword.

To put it simply, he intends to use the contest to boost his creativity.

“I didn’t make the 10th sword and gather you, but I gathered you to make it.”

It was understandable that he was unable to make the 10th Numbering Sword.

If no one could inspire Vulcanus, then the sword wouldn’t be made, and its presence isn’t needed either.

“For reference, this contest will be held every month. Until we find a swordsman we like.”

As soon as that was said, the faces of all the swordsmen turned pale.

Because that was similar to words like ‘you are not what I want!’.

In fact, the masters of the 9 Numbering Swords were all Sword Masters on the continent. It was no surprise that their confidence fell.

However, not everyone was like that.

“So, if we win, there won’t be more contests?”

“I’m glad I came here early. Isn’t this like saying that we won’t have a chance later?”

“Victor. It’s okay. Even if you don’t get Vulcanus’s sword, you can get Pablo or Dwanson’s.”

“Hahaha, what a disgusting choice of words. As if I will be content with that.”

There were people who believed in themselves.

Real strong people who thought that their potential wasn’t far behind Sword Masters.

They were looking at the podium with bright eyes.

“Then, those who are confident come up.”

With that, Vulcanus went down.

And sat next to Pablo and Dwanson and looked at the swordsmen.

A while after, two swordsmen came up.

The onlookers confirmed their identities.

“Right off the bat…”

“The winners?”

One of the Charlotte and Victor duo, the strongest in the contest, Victor.

And Randel Clancy, a wandering knight from Adan, famous for his quick sword and single blow victories.

At the strong two men who appeared, shouts and cheers erupted.

“Victor! Show your best skill!”

“Wasn’t Charlotte the best?”

“Victor and Charlotte!”

“No, if it’s Randel Clancy, even Victor might be in trouble.”

“Right. There aren’t many people who know Randel.”

“Maybe they will know after today.”

There seemed to be a lot of people who supported Victor, who had a great personality, skills, and experience.

However, there were few who predicted Randel’s victory.

No matter who they supported, they all looked up, expecting something to happen.

Randel Clancy looked at Vulcanus and said.

“I have a question, Vulcanus.”

“Tell me.”

“Is it fine if I kill someone?”

“…!”

For a moment, everyone went silent.

Randel’s expression and his words.

They were telling them that his question was a sincere one.

Some could even feel a chill run down their spine. Some looked at Randel as if they were about to curse him.

And then, he added.

“It isn’t that I plan on killing anyone. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“…”

“My sword, I asked because my sword has no choice but to kill my opponents.”

One blow Randel.

A title he got three years ago, and they were the perfect words to describe his explosive stabs.

Randel’s sword, which stretched out before one knew it, pierced many monsters’ heads.

There was no mercy. He himself couldn’t stop the sword once he pulled it out.

Only with that did the onlookers realize just how serious the contest was.

The moment Randel Clancy wins, Victor loses his life.

And the next challenger and the next.

Randel could mess up the contest.

However,

“It sounds fun? It doesn’t matter to me.”

“…!”

“Of course. Only if the other person agrees.”

Vulcanus didn’t care.

Neither did Dwanson and Pablo. Rather, they looked at Victor with interested expressions.

It seemed like they were expecting him to accept the match without fear, but quite a few swordsmen gave up on the contest at those words.

Of course, Victor didn’t.

He smiled and said.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I overpower Sir Randel, there should be no problem, right?”

“…”

For a second, Randel frowned.

It wasn’t because his composure broke. Rather, it was because Victor’s remarks stimulated him.

Some people noticed it, and Charlotte, who was below the stage, burst into laughter.

“Good. Stop talking and move. You can start fighting the moment I say begin. Got it?”

Randel Clancy nodded. His cold eyes looking at Victor.

So was Victor. He took out his sword and took his stance.

Serene atmosphere.

Vulcanus’s voice resounded through the silent place.

“Begin!”

Swoosh!

Shhhhh!

The result was out right away. (*)

“…”

Randel Clancy looked at his severed sword with a puzzled face.

“Phew! Very fast. One step wrong, and I would have had a hole in my chest.”

Victor said that while wiping the sweat off his face.

Victor’s victory.

Roars of cheers erupted from the audience.

“Woahhhhh!”

“Victor! Victor! Victor!”

“Splitting Randel’s sword! He’s faster than Randel?”

“Maybe the timing was right…”

“I don’t know! It was just great!”

“Isn’t this it? The Master of the sword has been decided?”

Not to mention that Vulcanus’s expression was brighter.

Like the face of a child who received a gift.

Irene, who saw the fight, softly said.

“Indeed, he’s strong.”

“He’s strong.”

“Really? How strong?”

“It would be hard for him to find an opponent among Experts.”

Georg, who was watching the match, said.

Anya, who heard that, tilted her head.

“Is that one strong?”

“… he’s strong.”

“Really?”

“Really. Think with common sense. Experts are strong, and they are strong in their own way, there’s nothing to define them by, that means Experts are directly placed in the top 200 on the entire continent.”

“I see.”

Anya nodded, not interested.

Georg, who watched that, sighed.

‘It’s because you keep moving around with the captain.’

He didn’t say that out loud.

He gave up on convincing Anya and said,

“Fine, let’s check it out.”

“Okay!"

This time, she just agreed.

Saying that she put her hand in the air.

And a golden piggy bank appeared.

Its size was so small that it couldn’t be compared to what she showed Irene.

And with regret, she said.

“Goodbye, my savings.”

Crack!

And it shattered.

And a golden line that was only visible to Anya and Georg stretched out towards Victor and Charlotte, who were below the stage.

And the golden energy which surrounded them turned red.

“They’re the ones we are looking for.”

“Right. Then leave a mark.”

“Hm. I don’t want to spend two on the same day.”

With a distasteful expression, Anya pulled out another piggy bank.

It wasn’t Georg’s orders. It was the captain’s orders.

A golden line stretched out again, leaving a seal on Charlotte and Victor’s foreheads.

Georg, who looked at that, admired it.

‘No matter how much I think about it, it looks like a scam.’

A piggy bank that grants any wish as long as it doesn’t exceed the value of the saved money.

That was Anya’s ability.