FVN Chapter 21
Chapter 21
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 21: The Ugly Duckling (4)
Fran stepped onto the sparring ground and greeted his opponent with a slight nod.
"It's been a while, Sir Lazli."
"It has indeed, Young Master,"
Lazli replied, offering a faint smile and a gaze as warm as the sun.
Though Fran was the lord’s younger brother, they had once been childhood companions, spending countless days playing together.
"I won't be holding back."
"...Understood."
With that, their greetings came to an end.
They were no longer comrades, but adversaries facing each other on the sparring ground.
‘The Lazli I know is...’
Fran’s mind raced as he analyzed his opponent.
A man so bound by principles that his presence could suffocate those around him.
His devotion to fulfilling his master’s orders, even at the cost of his own life, made him a model knight.
Fran swallowed hard, tension evident on his face.
‘In most duels, the superior usually gives the weaker party three free attacks as a courtesy... But expecting that from such a rigid rule-follower is a stretch.’
Fran quickly estimated the distance between them.
‘Five meters.’
First priority: widen the gap.
"Begin."
The word barely left Gram's lips when Fran shot backward with a gust of wind.
Thud!
Just before stepping out of bounds, Fran landed on the edge of the sparring ground, his eyes locked on Lazli.
‘I’ve extended the distance to twenty meters. Perfect.’
Naturally, the closer the distance, the greater his disadvantage.
As a newly advanced Level 4 mage, there was no way he could match a Level 5 knight in close combat.
The best course of action was to decide the match before Lazli could close the gap.
"Here I come."
Lazli murmured softly, lowering his sword.
Mana began to rise around him, and the very atmosphere shifted.
His aura transformed into that of a predator, ready to tear its prey apart.
"....."
For a moment, the air above the sparring ground seemed heavier, like the weight of a storm cloud pressing down.
The pressure of a Level 5 enhancement-type knight was palpable.
Fran's body began to tremble as if it had a will of its own.
‘Was Sir Lazli always this imposing?’
No, it was just his overwhelming presence.
In truth, Fran was slightly taller.
‘Damn it, my body won’t move.’
He had told himself countless times not to be afraid.
But standing there now, he felt paralyzed, like a mouse frozen before a snake.
His mind was overwhelmed by a singular thought: fear.
‘Damn it.’
The instinct to flee surged within him.
After all, he had always been a coward, always running away.
"......."
And it wouldn’t be hard to run now.
Just one misstep, a single feigned mistake, and he could retreat, escaping this fear and pressure in an instant.
‘But.’
That wouldn’t change anything.
Fran knew better than anyone that running only led to relentless regret.
"......Tch."
He let out a bitter chuckle.
The fiery pain in his back, from the blow he’d received before stepping into the sparring ground, still lingered.
‘How hard did he hit me?’
Yet, oddly enough, it snapped him back to his senses.
‘Let’s do this.’
Even if he lost or failed spectacularly, he resolved not to run anymore.
Determination flashed in Fran’s eyes as he bit down on his lip.
The taste of blood filled his mouth, sharp and grounding.
He felt control returning to his body.
"Wind Blade."
Slash!
Two sharp blades of wind hurtled toward Lazli.
".....!"
Clang! Clang!
Lazli instinctively deflected them, his eyes narrowing slightly.
‘...Dual casting? More than that, he dispersed my aura?’
A faint smile crossed Lazli’s lips.
‘You’ve certainly grown, Young Master.’
He was proud, impressed even.
But he had no intention of going easy.
A knight’s duty to his master was absolute.
"Hup!"
Clang! Clang!
Lazli began moving swiftly, deflecting the twin wind blades as they came at him from impossible angles.
Seeing such a bleak future for Fran, how could he not pull him back?
‘It’d be better for you to run a business.’
A curator of a grand gallery, perhaps—that would maintain the family’s dignity.
After all, Fran had the best eye for fine art in the family.
He wouldn’t get hurt or cause the family undue worry in such a career.
‘And he wouldn’t end up consumed by his magic again.’
As these fleeting thoughts passed, the match neared its conclusion.
The distance between the two contestants: a mere 12 meters.
Knowing how fast Lazli could move, Gran was certain.
‘It’s over.’
His knight wouldn’t give Fran the chance to finish his final spell.
He would carry out Gran’s orders to crush him thoroughly.
And that prediction came true.
“The duel is over.”
At the last moment, Lazli revealed his hidden speed, closing in on Fran before he could react.
And yet—
Whoosh!
When Lazli attempted to snatch Fran’s necklace—
“...!”
Fran had turned his necklace into wind and, in a twist, ripped off Lazli’s necklace instead.
“Well, it seems we have a winner,”
Remarked the Deputy Tower Master, breaking the silence.
He turned to Gran, who had risen from his seat, and asked,
“Do you accept the outcome?”
“....”
Gran didn’t respond immediately, his eyes flickering with disbelief.
‘That magic...’
Fran’s peculiar spell, the one that could transform parts of his body into wind, must have been a profound source of trauma.
‘I was told he’d never use it again.’
That’s what the renowned mage healer, Vesalius Silva, had said.
For 99% of mages who faced annihilation, the fear remained insurmountable.
‘Which means...’
Oscar Crucian.
He must have played a pivotal role in helping Fran confront and overcome that fear.
After a brief pause, Gran nodded slowly.
“...I acknowledge the loss.”
Conceding gracefully, he turned to Oscar.
“Should I congratulate you? Looks like you’ll have to put up with that foolish kid for another two years.”
“Don’t feel too bad. I’ll take good care of Fran.”
“...Not like I’ll miss him. I’ve got a packed schedule ahead, so I’ll be taking my leave.”
As he walked out of the arena, he passed by Fran, who hesitated for a moment.
He paused briefly and muttered:
“You’ve grown a little.”
“...What?”
“If you didn’t hear, forget it.”
Fran stared after his brother’s retreating figure for a long time.
From afar, Oscar chuckled to himself.
“What a funny guy. Pretending not to have heard him.”
If Fran really hadn’t heard, his eyes wouldn’t be curved into those crescent shapes, brimming with joy.
* * *
Gran Sirius stepped into the back seat of a luxurious black sedan as the chauffeur opened the door.
A middle-aged man already seated there, reading a newspaper, spoke without lifting his gaze.
“You’re alone?”
“It turned out that way.”
Still dazed by the result, Gran let out a hollow laugh.
“You must be disappointed. You carved out time in your busy schedule just to see the youngest.”
“Hmph.”
Adam Sirius, head of the Sirius Trading Company and patriarch of the Sirius family, cleared his throat.
“...I just dropped by since I had some spare time. Don’t read too much into it. Let’s go.”
With a low hum, the car glided smoothly along the road.
After a moment of watching the scenery pass by, Gran spoke.
“You remember, don’t you? When some noble from the capital called Fran an ugly duckling?”
The thoughtless noble had made a joke about Fran’s perceived inferiority to his siblings.
Their father had been furious, cutting off all supplies to the noble’s estate until the man begged for forgiveness.
Fran never found out.
[TL/N: Kinda glad they avoided the sad broken merchant family trope.]
“Why bring that up now?”
“I’m starting to think maybe Fran isn’t a duckling, but a gosling.”
“...A goose? Not a swan?”
“Yes. A goose.”
Gran chuckled as he gazed at the drifting clouds.
“Who knows, maybe in two years, he’ll turn into a goose that lays golden eggs.”
With Oscar Crucian by his side, Gran couldn’t shake the feeling that everything the man predicted would come true.
‘Two years to become a top-tier mage. Five years to restore the White Tower’s former glory.’
A dry smile crossed his lips as Gran decided he’d invest in the White Tower.
‘...Unlikely as it may be, it doesn’t hurt to make connections early.’
Recognizing untapped potential and investing in it was an essential skill for any merchant.
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]