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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Awakening
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Awakening
[Class].
[Trait].
A blessing, whether innate or acquired.
Those with a [Class] exhibit a natural talent for it, while those with a [Trait] gain abilities that transcend even such Classes.
For example, gaining the [Chef] Class would make one a culinary genius, and having the [Food Preservation] Trait would make all their dishes last several times longer.
That is why they are called the Awakened (覺醒者).
They were superhumans and geniuses who gained extreme talent in their respective Classes, making the impossible possible.
It was also the most fundamental criterion for distinguishing nobles from commoners in Odobaekryeong.
While not all Awakened were nobles, the nobles, who inherited specific Classes or Traits through their bloodlines, were invariably Awakened.
Especially after the five heroes categorized Classes and Traits.
This was why Dion had become an object of ridicule to all the nobles of Odobaekryeong... no, even to the commoners.
For a noble, a direct descendant of the Unlight family no less, to fail to awaken was as absurd as a fish drowning.
Of course, this also meant that if he did awaken, the perception of Dion could change.
"First, I must apologize."
"For what?"
"For turning you away at the gate, Young Master, though it was at the Young Lady's command."
The man in red armor stood across the training grounds, holding a spear.
In that sense, it was only natural for Gerald, the gatekeeper who had blocked Dion at the entrance to the Vlad estate, to offer a polite apology.
Dion was, after all, the youngest son of the Unlight family.
If it was true that he had awakened and managed to regain even a sliver of power within the family...
...then regardless of the outcome of today's duel, he was someone who could crush a mere gatekeeper with a single word.
"So you're asking me to forgive you because it was your official duty and there were no personal feelings involved?"
"That is correct."
"Come on, there's no need to apologize for something like that. A subordinate has no choice but to follow the orders of their superior."
"Thank you for your generosity..."
"But I can't forgive you for lying."
"...What do you mean?"
"That part about having no personal feelings—that was a lie, wasn't it?"
Dion chuckled as he watched the gatekeeper, who had been expressing his gratitude, freeze mid-sentence.
"I can tell just by looking. You can't stand me, but you're forcing yourself to be polite because of our difference in status."
"You seem to have misunderstood something."
"No need to play innocent. You're not the first person to hate me, and I'm not going to hold something so trivial against you."
"..."
"So, take this chance to stop holding back and come at me with everything you've got."
With a twirl.
He spun the dagger in his hand—a training weapon, unsharpened, but still capable of breaking bones if swung properly.
Dion smiled brightly.
"—After all, that's why I chose you as my opponent for this duel."
The boy spoke with a smile, as if asking what could be better than an opponent he could beat without hesitation.
Gerald stared at Dion with cold, sunken eyes before finally speaking in a heavy voice.
"I have much to say about that misunderstanding... but if it is the Young Master's wish that I use my full strength, I will gladly oblige."
*Clang.*
With those words, his spear shot forward.
The gazes of the gatekeeper, wielding a heavy iron-shafted spear, and the boy, holding a small dagger, locked.
At a signal from the blonde girl sitting cross-legged on a chair at the side of the training grounds, a small bell chimed.
*Thwack!*
—Dion's body went flying.
* * *
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Gerald kicked off the ground, lunged forward, and swung his spear, striking Dion in the side.
It was a blow that would have broken his ribs and ended the match, even with his dagger protecting his side, had he not thrown himself back to lessen the impact.
And that was only the beginning.
*Swish, swish, swish!*
A thrust.
Another thrust, and another.
Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, the spearhead shot out with lightning speed, targeting his chest, abdomen, and neck in the span of three breaths.
Dion nimbly dodged the spearhead, but it was a narrow escape.
The thin, long gashes on his neck, shoulder, and thigh—inflicted by the mere graze of the blunted spear—proved just how close he had come.
The onslaught continued.
*Clang, claaang!*
Each time he blocked the spear's shaft with his dagger, his small hands trembled, and each time he bent his body to evade the spearhead, flesh tore and blood splattered.
The small boy could do nothing but desperately block and dodge.
It was an utter beatdown.
It could no longer be called a duel; it was no different from a cat toying with a mouse.
"I don't know what kind of Class you got, but to challenge someone to a duel with a body that has never been trained..."
And so.
As Gerald continued to press Dion with his spear, he whispered with a twisted lip.
"—Know your place, you piece of trash."
*No matter if you've awakened, you're still nothing but the incompetent, pathetic shame of the Unlight family.*
With a voice too low for others to hear, yet laced with clear mockery, Gerald continued to drive Dion back.
The match was as good as over.
Elise, watching the duel from the side of the training grounds with a frown, thought the same.
'I see. My expectations were misplaced.'
When she heard that Dion had awakened, she had held a sliver of hope.
If Dion had obtained a good Class and Trait, she might have been able to recoup some of the massive investment she had poured into him.
Considering the Unlight bloodline, the possibility was high.
But...
'To think he would be foolish enough to challenge one of our family's gatekeepers with such meager skills.'
One inch longer, one inch stronger; one inch shorter, one inch riskier.
一寸長一寸强, 一寸短一寸険.
An old martial adage states:
A weapon one inch longer provides an advantage, while a weapon one inch shorter brings a disadvantage.
Facing a long spear with a mere dagger was a reckless act to begin with, unless there was a significant gap in skill.
If he had at least been superior in strength or agility, he might have been able to exploit an opening, but he was lacking in those aspects as well.
Above all, compared to Gerald's precise spearmanship, Dion's movements were a chaotic mess of desperate blocks and dodges.
It was incomprehensible what he was relying on to so confidently request a duel.
Of course, it was common for the newly Awakened to get carried away and become arrogant...
'Has that fool forgotten the common sense that even after awakening, one cannot manifest their talent without absorbing a large amount of manastones and training?'
Elise sighed.
Awakening a [Class] grants one prodigious talent, but just as even a genius cannot do everything from birth, a newly Awakened is merely a [Beginner (Lv1~3)].
To progress through [Adept (Lv4~6)] and [Expert (Lv7~9)] to reach [Master (Lv10)]—a realm reserved for true geniuses—one needed to learn and train accordingly.
While constantly absorbing manastones could accelerate that growth, training was still essential.
It would take several months, at the very least, to move past the [Beginner] stage, where one only shows glimpses of talent, and enter the realm of the [Adept], where one becomes familiar with its application.
For Dion, who had only just awakened, to engage in a duel was not just reckless, but utterly foolish.
Especially since his opponent was Gerald, who, despite being only 1-star, had already honed all his talents to the level of an [Expert] or even a [Master].
'If anything, I'm glad this gives me a clean way to break off the engagement.'
Elise reaffirmed her conviction that she had no need for such a troublesome fool, no matter what Class he had awakened.
But neither she...
...nor her trusted retainers at her side...
...nor even Gerald, who was fighting Dion...
...had realized a crucial fact, distracted as they were by the boy's battered appearance.
—That if he had truly just awakened, the very fact that Dion had not been defeated instantly and was still holding on was a miracle in itself.
Only one person.
The dark elf maid with the expressionless face, continued to watch the fight, which everyone else considered over, with unwavering seriousness.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Meanwhile, Gerald continued to press his assault, swinging his spear at Dion.
Tearing the back of his hand.
Slicing his earlobe.
Battering his leg.
Attacks that, instead of aiming for vital points, focused on tearing flesh and inflicting pain, as if to flaunt the gap between them.
Yet, Gerald, who held the clear advantage, had a deep frown on his face.
It wasn't that he was intentionally avoiding them; for some reason, he found it difficult to aim for Dion's vital spots.
It was as if he were facing not a newly awakened novice, but a mercenary who had spent his life on the battlefield or a seasoned crawler from the Labyrinth.
Frustrated, he unleashed an even more aggressive barrage of attacks.
*Thwack!*
"Hmph, is this what you call a desperate struggle?"
The spear struck his shoulder with particular force as Dion suddenly abandoned his evasion and charged forward.
In exchange for taking a blow that would have pierced through his body had the spear been sharp, the boy managed to inflict only a minor wound.
He had merely grazed Gerald's outstretched arm with his dagger.
Gerald scoffed at him for it, but...
"Finally landed a hit on you."
"What?"
"It means you should wait a little longer."
But despite the mockery, Dion showed no signs of despair or anger.
Instead, with a bright smile.
Despite being covered in wounds, he wore the brightest of smiles as he charged at the frowning Gerald.
"—The real fight starts now."
"What nonsense are you—!"
*Clang!*
Gerald's words were cut off by the dagger swung by the suddenly charging boy.
Of course, for someone with the [Spearman] Class like Gerald, such a pathetic surprise attack was easily blocked with a single swing of his spear, which he followed with a counterattack, but...
*Thud!*
Even as the spear grazed his side, Dion lowered his stance, darted in like a mouse, and kicked Gerald's ankle with his heel.
For Gerald, with his resilient [Vampire Servant] body and leather boots, it was a light blow that ended with a momentary sting.
But Dion didn't stop.
*Swish, thud, slash!*
Veins are cut, and blood flows.
Flesh bursts open, staining red.
Bones rattle, and the body swells.
The boy charged, abandoning all defense and evasion except for his vital spots, all to inflict even the smallest wound, the slightest pain.
It was less a mutual destruction and more a simple suicide attack.
It wasn't giving flesh to take bone; it was giving bone to take flesh—an act that, to any observer, looked like nothing more than a foolish, desperate struggle.
'...What is this?'
But in this very moment.
Gerald's face was terrifyingly stiff.
'What is this?'
He was clearly winning, and he was the one gaining an overwhelming advantage through their exchanges.
And yet, there was one reason Gerald could no longer mock Dion.
'He's getting... faster?'
Defying the common sense that one should slow down and become duller with injury and exhaustion, his movements were instead growing faster, the impacts of his blows stronger.
Above all, the boy's attitude—charging ever more fiercely no matter how injured he became—made Gerald anxious.
It was as if...
...with every small wound he sustained, the gap between him and Dion was shrinking at a terrifying rate—an absurd sense of unease.
『The special effect of [Blood Fiend] activates.』
『Growth bonus upon killing and destruction ↑ (Transcendental)』
『Class experience greatly increased by the bonus from [Blood Fiend].』
『[Murderer]☆ Lv5→ Lv6』
『[Hunter]☆ Lv4→ Lv5』
『[Petty Thief]☆ Lv3→ Lv4』