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I Have A Damn Family Again - Chapter 88
🕑 Added 2024-08-06 22:34:19 +0000 UTCChapter 88: The Disgrace of Shatrain (2)
"Wow... Young Master, you've completely adapted, haven't you?"
Mark approached me, a look of admiration on his face, as I finished my laps. He handed me a water pouch, and I accepted it, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Adapted? Don't be ridiculous. I'm still painfully slow."
"If you say so... Won't that make those guys feel bad?"
Mark gestured towards the practice yard, his voice laced with amusement.
"Huff… huff!"
"Ugh, I'm exhausted…!"
"Pick up the pace! Lagging behind earns you two extra laps!"
A group of trainees, their faces flushed with exertion, struggled to keep up with the rigorous training regimen, their every move scrutinized by a senior knight.
Their uniforms were a clear indication of their status: newly recruited trainees. The old guard, the incompetent and the disloyal, had been purged, leaving me as the sole survivor of the previous batch. Which meant these fresh-faced recruits were my successors.
"You might not realize it, Young Master, but those guys are actually quite skilled for aspiring knights. They've been training for this even before joining the ranks. But hearing you, their senior, talk about being 'slow' will crush their spirits."
Mark chuckled, explaining that my exceptional progress made them look bad in comparison.
He even confessed that having me as his senior would have been a living hell.
‘Well, I have my reasons.’
It’s a matter of survival. My life depends on it.
I couldn’t exactly reveal my predicament, so I settled for a silent response, my thoughts echoing in his mind.
‘Hmm… Come to think of it, I’ve made quite a bit of progress, thanks to the stat boosts.’
My body, once incapable of handling even the most basic exercises, had finally graduated from last place during our morning jogs. My physical abilities were noticeably improving.
No, they’d definitely improved.
Lv. 17
▶Available SP is automatically allocated to the ??? stat!◀
▶Strength 4.50
▶Agility 5.81
▶Endurance 5.99
▶Stamina 4.35
▶Immunity 1.28
▶??? 0.85
My stats had skyrocketed.
I no longer gasped for air after every lap, and my energy reserves felt limitless. While I couldn’t be certain about my HP, I no longer felt weak or sickly.
Yes, my physical condition had undoubtedly improved.
The ??? stat remained a mystery, but one thing was clear: it wasn't related to physical attributes.
“…Young Master, another one arrived.”
Mark, his expression a mixture of amusement and pity, held out a box.
The sight of it filled me with a sense of weary resignation.
‘Why does she insist on sending these every single day?’
I’d repeatedly told Flora they were unnecessary, pointless. Yet, she persisted, sending these care packages to the training grounds despite my pleas to stay away.
“Ahem. I’ll have this returned, of course. But this letter… I’m afraid I can’t ignore it.”
Mark, sensing my displeasure, cleared his throat, explaining that he couldn't simply discard the accompanying letter.
It had been ten days since I’d relocated to the training grounds, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor. Messages, I knew, were inevitable.
‘Right on schedule.’
Claire, nagging me to return, her tone exasperated yet concerned. Isabella, relaying her attempts to reason with Arina, assuring me that I’d be welcomed back with open arms.
And then, a message from Arina herself.
『 Mother might be trying to persuade me, but I refuse to reinstate your participation rights until you abandon your stubborn ways. -Arina Bagrand. 』
She remained steadfast in her decision, determined to keep me out of the conference.
“Alright, I’ll be skipping sparring today. I have some business to attend to. And I might be gone for a few days.”
“Understood.”
However, there was one small matter I needed to address before I could leave.
Mark, conveniently standing beside me, was the perfect candidate for a quick assessment.
“Mark, be honest. What do you think would happen if I encountered a group of bandits or a wild beast?”
Why had I focused on improving my stats? Because those encounters were inevitable.
But I had no way of gauging my current abilities. This wasn’t a game where stats alone determined the outcome. I needed to assess my fighting prowess in real life. Could I handle bandits, rogue knights, and wild beasts?
Mark, to my surprise, answered without hesitation.
“Well, if it’s just a ragtag group of bandits, they wouldn’t stand a chance against you, Young Master.”
“…What?”
“You seem unaware of your own abilities… but the reason our knights are so motivated lately is because of you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because they’re being chased, constantly challenged, by the very person they’re supposed to serve.”
Mark gestured towards the practice yard with a grin.
“Haha. Look at them. Even on their day off, they’re training their hearts out. You’ve ignited a fire in them, Young Master.”
…It was just a matter of survival, as far as I was concerned.
But that wasn’t the point right now.
“You’re exaggerating. Can you be a little more objective?”
“Even objectively, your skills are undeniable.”
“What?”
“It’s not just bandits or rogue knights. Having sparred with you myself, I can confidently say that even the knights of the East would struggle against you. Especially those who favor large, heavy swords.”
Mark then launched into a detailed explanation of my strengths and weaknesses, his assessment based on our sparring sessions.
Of course, his analysis was beyond my comprehension.
I took a long swig of water, my mind replaying the game's settings.
‘Well, considering I can now perceive things I couldn’t before, Mark’s assessment might not be too far off.’
I’d managed to push both Radiel and Mark to their limits during our sparring sessions, a feat I wouldn't have been capable of in the past. My growth was undeniable.
The most noticeable change was my enhanced perception. The trajectory of their swords, once a blur, was now crystal clear. My vision, it seemed, had evolved.
▶ Passive Skill: Swordsmanship Lv. 2 has increased to Lv. 3!◀
▶ Passive Skill: Hand-to-Hand Combat Lv. 2 has increased to Lv. 3!◀
▶ Passive Skill: Enhanced Vision Lv. 1 has increased to Lv. 2!◀
Of course, I had the system to thank for those improvements.
‘Well, there’s only one way to find out. I need to experience it firsthand.’
Enough time had passed.
Camilla had confirmed that the necessary preparations for the Lusmire episode had been made during my stat-boosting hiatus. It was time to take action.
***
“Ugh!”
“Kiyan!”
Kiyan, caught off guard, stumbled, the force of a knight’s kick sending him sprawling onto the ground.
His companions, witnesses to his humiliation, their anger fueled by years of shared hardship, glared at the knight, their eyes burning with resentment.
“Lusmire scum are forbidden from using this road.”
“Find another route. Those are the count’s orders.”
Kiyan’s friends, two young boys, their voices trembling with indignation, retorted:
“We’re in a hurry! We need to use this road!”
“A life is at stake! Can’t you even show a little compassion?!”
They were on a desperate mission to save a young girl, her life hanging precariously in the balance. They had no choice but to seek help beyond the borders of Lusmire, their isolated village devoid of any qualified healers.
But the knights, their hearts hardened against any semblance of mercy, refused to yield.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re knights, sworn to protect this territory. You’re nothing but Lusmire trash. How do we know you’re not plotting something?”
“That’s right. If you cause trouble, we’ll be held responsible for letting you through.”
“We told you, we’re trying to save someone! How can you…!”
“And how are we supposed to believe that? For all we know, you’re planning to sneak into our territory and steal our valuables.”
“We’ve heard there’s been a surge in thefts from your village lately. You’re hardly trustworthy.”
Their accusations, their indifference to their plight, stung like a slap in the face. They were racing against time, a life hanging precariously in the balance, and these knights, stationed at the border of a neighboring territory, refused to budge.
“How dare you accuse us of stealing? We have nothing of value!”
“They know what they’re doing. They simply don’t want to let us through.”
“Count Modric uses our roads without any problem…!”
The boys, their voices thick with frustration, muttered under their breath, their resentment simmering.
It was those nobles, those privileged elites, who were truly responsible for their current predicament. Count Modric's recklessness, his disregard for their safety, had led to this tragedy.
“We’re not making this up! And we heard from someone else that there was a riot in a neighboring territory recently.”
“Ah, of course, it wasn’t their fault, but… it caused quite a stir. So you can understand why we’re being cautious, right?”
“As if that justifies your actions. Ahahaha!”
The knights, their voices dripping with sarcasm, offered a twisted explanation, their logic warped by their own self-preservation.
“...”
“What’s with those looks? What are you trying to say?”
“You think you can intimidate us?”
“Don’t you know who we are?”
“We were trying to resolve this peacefully, but I guess we have no choice.”
The knights, their sneers widening, bristled at the defiance in the boys’ eyes. No, it wasn't simple defiance. It was despair, a desperate plea for understanding, for a sliver of compassion.
“…Let’s go back.”
“Melic!”
“Kiyan, there’s no other way. Not right now…”
“But if we turn back, Dienna will be in danger!”
“But what else can we do, Kiyan?”
Melic, his fists clenched, his voice trembling with anger, urged him to retreat. Tony, carrying the ailing Dienna on his back, his eyes squeezed shut, echoed his sentiment.
“Damn it… If only we had the backing of another house…!”
“…!”
Kiyan’s eyes widened, a sudden realization striking him.
“We do.”
“What?”
“We have someone who can back us.”
“What are you talking about?”
His companions, their brows furrowed with confusion, stared at him.
“The party! We met someone who can help us! Someone powerful!”
Yes, they’d met him.
The young master of a house with influence rivaling the Imperial family, a house at the very pinnacle of the aristocracy.
Carsein Bagrand, heir to the Bagrand Duchy.
“I know, but… he’s not here right now.”
“We received his financial aid, but… that doesn’t make Lusmire a Bagrand territory…”
“We have nothing to lose. Hey!”
“What?”
Kiyan, his determination renewed, stood up, ignoring his companions' attempts to stop him. He approached the knights, his voice firm.
“Lusmire will soon belong to House Bagrand. Keep that in mind before you speak.”
“…What did you say?”
“House Bagrand is purchasing our territory! Their heir himself came to Lusmire and told us!”
The knights, caught off guard, fell silent.
This wasn’t something they could ignore. House Bagrand’s interest in acquiring their territory was a significant development.
But then, laughter erupted, mocking and dismissive.
“Hahaha! Are you serious?”
“Why would House Bagrand buy your worthless territory? Do you think buying a territory is like buying a loaf of bread?”
“That’s the most ridiculous lie we’ve ever heard. It’s not going to work.”
“W-What?”
One of the knights, his sneer widening, stepped forward, poking Kiyan’s forehead with a condescending finger.
“Listen, kid. Buying and selling territories is a complex process. It involves assuming tax obligations, taking responsibility for the welfare of the residents.”
“Territories represent a family’s wealth and power. They're acquired for strategic reasons, to increase revenue and influence.”
“What happens when you buy a barren wasteland with no potential for development? You lose money. There has to be something of value, fertile land, mineral resources, something!”
The other knights joined in the laughter, their mockery echoing around them.
“So tell me, what does your territory offer?”
“Your land is infertile, devoid of any valuable resources. You have no tourist attractions, no strategic advantages. What do you have to offer?”
The reason they hadn't flinched at Kiyan's initial declaration? Lusmire was worthless.
“And you expect us to believe that House Bagrand, of all families, would purchase and manage your territory?”
-Hahaha!
Their laughter intensified, their mockery unrestrained.
“Wake up, kid. Your territory is garbage. Barren land, treacherous terrain, a river that serves as a barrier, and the only flat land unsuitable for trade routes.”
“…“
Kiyan, his jaw clenched, listened to their laughter, his heart sinking.
It was true. Lusmire was a wasteland.
But he refused to accept it.
“Young Master Carsein came to our village! He personally told us that Lusmire would become a Bagrand territory!”
“Hahaha! That makes it even more ridiculous!”
“What do you…?”
“You believe that commoner-born imposter? Even a stray dog would laugh at your gullibility!”
“So much for your grand hopes of joining House Bagrand. And not even one of the esteemed daughters, but Carsein? Oh, this is priceless. To be so easily fooled by such an obvious lie.”
“Wait, maybe it’s not a lie after all.”
“Ah, you think so?”
The knights, their expressions shifting from mockery to curiosity, exchanged glances.
“Come to think of it, it might actually be worse for you if it’s true.”
“What do you mean…?”
“Remember I mentioned a riot in a neighboring territory? ”
“…And?”
“The one responsible for that riot? Carsein Bagrand.”
Kiyan’s face paled, his body stiffening.
“Young Master Carsein… caused a riot?”
“The Shatrain territory. It was once a thriving region under House Bagrand. They had two unique crops, grown only in that specific environment, that were incredibly popular throughout the Empire.”
“Shatrain strawberries and Shatrain grapes. Those fruits were incredibly delicious, used in countless recipes. And they grew quickly. The only downside was that… only the Shatrain residents knew how to cultivate them.”
“But then, that young master was assigned the Shatrain territory for the Eastern Nobles’ Conference. And guess what? Those two crops stopped growing. Getting the picture?”
“...!”
“Their livelihoods were destroyed. Because of that young master’s incompetence. A riot was inevitable.”
“You were fooled by that man, you idiots.”
Kiyan stared blankly, his eyes hollow, his mind reeling.
One of the knights, his sneer widening, flicked a gold coin at Kiyan’s cheek.
Clink!
“Well, at least you provided us with some entertainment. Keep it. Hehehe.”
More coins, a shower of gold, rained down upon them, a cruel mockery of their desperation. The knight suggested they use the money for the girl’s funeral expenses. But Kiyan, frozen in place, couldn’t move, his body numb with shock.
‘We thought we were finally escaping this nightmare…’
But their hopes, their dreams of a better future, had been shattered, exposed as nothing more than a cruel illusion.
Rage surged through him, a bitter tide that threatened to consume him.
As expected, all nobles were heartless monsters.
Kiyan, his hand instinctively reaching for the sharpened stake hidden beneath his cloak, envisioned a world cleansed of their corruption, a world where justice prevailed.
And then…
Clang!
“Ugh?!”
The sound of metal striking metal, the very same sound that had accompanied the earlier barrage of coins, echoed through the air, followed by a cry of pain.
“Which one of you did that?! How dare you attack a knight of Count Modric?!”
The knight, his voice laced with fury, glared at the three boys, his eyes burning with rage.
But the projectile had come from the side.
Kiyan, turning towards the source, his gaze sharp, caught sight of a lone figure approaching them.
“Gah?!”
The newcomer, his movements swift and decisive, closed the distance in a heartbeat, his foot connecting with the knight’s chest, sending him flying backwards.
The knight crashed into his companions, a domino effect that left them sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
And then, the newcomer, his face a mask of cold fury, approached the fallen knights.
-Shing!
“Keep this. Consider it a down payment for your journey to the afterlife.”
He drew his sword, the polished steel glinting menacingly in the fading light, holding it to their throats.
And in that moment, as Kiyan caught sight of his dark blue hair, the fog of rage began to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of hope.
