Ian left the storage room with the wooden sword in hand, stood at the center of the empty training ground, assumed a stance, and began to swing.
It was nothing more than a simple sequence of slashes and thrusts, devoid of anything remarkable.
WHOOSH!
At first, every movement felt awkward, as though he were wearing several layers of ill-fitting clothes.
His blade strayed far from its intended targets, and he exerted far more strength than he meant to.
To anyone watching, he would have looked like a complete novice. Ian, however, felt no shame.
There was no one watching him anyway. He simply continued in silence, repeating each movement with an unwavering gaze as he gradually accustomed himself to his younger body.
Remarkably, his posture improved slightly with every swing of the wooden sword. The change occurred quickly enough to be clearly noticeable.
It was proof that the vast experience he had accumulated before his regression was being absorbed by his present body.
Before long, the wooden sword that had once wavered roughly through the air began to trace perfectly straight, clean lines.
‘No. It may be clean, but it is not perfect.’
He could not allow himself to become arrogant. Nor was he attempting to feign humility. He merely understood his own level well.
He would need to reach Level 6 before he could boast about his abilities. Only then would he dare to describe them as perfect.
At least, that was what Ian believed.
“Whew.”
Perhaps it was because he had concentrated so intensely. Before he knew it, the sun had fully risen, and his body was deeply fatigued.
He appeared to have expended a great deal of stamina, for he was hungry as well. The moment he exhaled and lowered his head, a curt voice came from behind him.
“Hey, idiot.”
Ian flinched and turned around. Someone was standing only a few steps away.
The sharp-featured man had black hair and red eyes. Ian knew that face.
Startled by the unexpected encounter, Ian called the man’s name without thinking, his eyes widening.
“Diol?”
Diol.
Diol Berger. He was Ian’s second-eldest brother by blood.
‘What is going on?’
The fact that Diol, who should have been at the main estate, was here left Ian thoroughly bewildered.
Ian searched his memories. Had Diol been at the villa during this period?
No. Ian did not remember seeing his face or even hearing that he had visited. Diol frowned when Ian called him by name.
“Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten that I am three years older than you after not seeing me for a while? Now you are addressing your elder brother by name?”
The insult came without restraint, but Ian was not particularly angered. Rather, he was simply glad to see him.
Before his regression, Ian had left his family and become a treasure hunter, but he had not severed all ties with his relatives.
He had not remained in contact with his father, the head of the family, but he had occasionally exchanged letters with his siblings to ask after their well-being. He had even considered their bond fairly close.
He and his second brother, in particular, had bickered whenever they met.
When Ian merely stared at him, Diol scowled.
“Are you not going to answer?”
Even before the regression, Diol had always called him an idiot.
Back then, Ian had never dared to ask why.
Now, however, things were different. In fact, seeing his second brother again made Diol look like an inexperienced youth.
“I did not answer because you called for an idiot. Have you forgotten my name after not seeing me for a while?”
“What else would you call someone who leaped off a cliff while chasing a deer?”
Diol gave a hollow laugh as he answered.
“No, the more I think about it, the more absurd it becomes. Were you attempting to disguise a suicide as a hunting accident?”
“Of course not.”
When Ian frowned and retorted, Diol gave a mocking smile.
“You are an idiot. I doubt anyone could deny that.”
“Even so, how could you call your own brother an idiot?”
“Be quiet. I was going to call you an imbecile, but I restrained myself.”
“…Ha. Fine. Do as you please. So, what brings you here? Did you come to rest?”
Diol’s sharp eyes drooped in an instant, making him look sorrowful.
“If only that were true. You may be too much of an idiot to know this, but a Level 5 knight does not have that much leisure. I am unbearably busy. Truly.”
“Then why would such a busy man take the time to visit the villa?”
“What else could it be? I came to take you home. We cannot allow you to wander aimlessly forever, can we? That is why I personally came to collect you. But when I arrived, they told me you had gone hunting, so I waited. Then you were carried back after falling from a cliff. Who could have imagined that would happen?”
Ah.
Ian now had a rough understanding of why Diol was here. He could also guess why he had never encountered Diol in his previous life.
It seemed Diol had returned home without seeing Ian after the accident occurred on the very day he arrived.
The people at the villa had probably said nothing because they had been ordered to keep quiet.
Ian had briefly worried that events were unfolding differently from the past he remembered, but fortunately, his concern appeared to have been unfounded. He felt a small measure of relief.
“I am asking merely to be certain, but you did not deliberately do that after hearing that I had arrived, did you?”
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“It sounded like something you might do.”
Ian shook his head.
“It was an accident.”
“I should hope so. It had better have been. Mother would have been deeply grieved otherwise. Still, seeing you exert yourself like this so early in the morning, I suppose you truly are unharmed?”
“Hmm. That merely proves how exceptional the priest’s healing arts were. Either that, or I was extraordinarily fortunate.”
“I would say it was the former. Wait. How did you know a priest treated you? You should have been unconscious.”
“How could I not know?”
He had gone to sleep injured and awakened with his body completely restored.
Such a thing was impossible unless one possessed a Level 6 Spirit Star and its tremendous regenerative ability, or had received a priest’s assistance.
“Who summoned the priest? Was it you?”
“No. Sir Arot did.”
Arot was the knight who guarded the villa as well as the elderly steward who managed it.
“Despite his age, he personally drove a carriage out to bring back a priest. Make certain that you thank him later.”
“Truly? That is rather touching.”
“And there was… What was his name again?”
“Whose?”
“The gamekeeper.”
“Ah. Seongjin.”
“Seongjin? Is he from the Garam Empire or somewhere nearby…?”
“Probably. What about him?”
“Hmm…. Thank him as well. He went through considerable trouble carrying you back here.”
“Of course. I was also planning to reward him, but….”
The gamekeeper would probably be delighted with a modest sum of money, but Ian knew that Sir Arot had accumulated considerable wealth over his many years as a knight.
Then Ian remembered that Sir Arot enjoyed drinking. As it happened, the display cabinet in his room contained liquor that would suit the old knight’s tastes.
None of it was a legendary vintage worth an astronomical sum, but Ian owned several bottles that were still quite rare. Giving him one of those should suffice.
Even after regressing, his attachment to alcohol apparently remained, for the thought of parting with one filled him with faint reluctance.
“There is no need for you to reward them personally. I have already taken care of that. You only need to visit them and offer your thanks with proper courtesy.”
“Oh?”
“What do you mean, ‘oh’? Enough of that. Go and bring another wooden sword.”
“Why? Do you want to spar with me?”
“Yes. I want to see how skilled you are. I heard that you spent the last two years idling about and disgracing the Berger name, but after watching you swing that sword a moment ago, I am beginning to think that may not be entirely true. I intend to find out.”
Ian considered it for a moment. Before his regression, he had reached Level 5, but what would happen if he fought Diol now?
His opponent was a genius who had reached Level 5 at the remarkably young age of twenty.
‘Compared to him, I am currently….’
At best, he might be Level 2, and even that was a generous assessment.
Moreover, while others had trained diligently and drenched themselves in sweat, Ian had spent his days drinking and hunting. His body had not been properly conditioned at all.
Now that he had regressed, he intended to change that little by little, but he had never expected something like this to happen on his very first day.
‘He also seems to be misunderstanding something.’
Even so, Ian was not afraid. Strangely enough, he felt that he might have a chance in his current state.
“What are you doing?”
“What?”
“Stop staring into space and go.”
Diol frowned and gestured toward the storage room with his chin.
Had a servant been present, he would have ordered them to retrieve the sword. However, only Ian and Diol were there.
“Hmm. Why do you not fetch it yourself?”
“What?”
Diol blinked, apparently dumbfounded by Ian’s words.
“You will not regret this?”
“What is there to regret?”
“I will not go easy on you.”
“Do as you please.”
Diol gave a hollow laugh, then entered the storage room as though determined to correct Ian’s insolence. He emerged carrying a camphor-wood sword and swung it several times.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The sound of the blade cutting through the air was remarkably fierce.
“Are you ready? Then come at me.”
Ian gave a hollow laugh as he watched Diol raise his left hand and beckon with his fingers.
Diol was clearly looking down on him.
He certainly possessed the skill to justify such confidence, but being provoked like this made Ian want to genuinely astonish him. It might have been impossible before his regression, but now he could do it.
“Are you certain you do not need to change your clothes?”
Diol was dressed in a red formal suit.
It was not the family’s official uniform, but a black flame emblem symbolizing House Berger was embroidered across the chest. Diol responded with a puzzled expression.
“Is there a problem?”
“You will be rather upset if it is torn or stained by accident.”
“My, my. Seeing our idiot worry about such pointless things, I suppose you must be ready.”
There was no referee, so no one announced the beginning.
Before Ian could fully settle into his stance, Diol abruptly closed the distance and swung his sword.
Even though he was not using mana, his speed was considerable.
Ian, however, saw it clearly. The tip of the wooden sword was aimed at his left shoulder.
He stepped back and bent his torso away. The moment he confirmed that the wooden sword had narrowly swept past him, he lunged forward and counterattacked.
CLACK!
Diol blocked it easily, but the blow forced him to retreat.
That fact alone sent a thrill through Ian and filled him with confidence.
He could do this. In his previous life, he had always lost to Diol, but this life would be different.
Diol, meanwhile, stared with widened eyes, unable to believe what had just happened.
‘Would you look at him?’
Diol had restrained his strength so that Ian would not be injured, but the strike he had just delivered was not something the Ian he knew should have been able to evade.
Yet Ian had not only dodged it but counterattacked as well.
Diol had expected him to be struck on the shoulder and either burst into tears like a child or become furious and demand to know what he was doing. Naturally, he could not help being bewildered.
‘Was it a coincidence?’
That was possible. Such unlikely accidents did occur from time to time.
To confirm it, Diol swung his sword again. Ian would not evade this one.
To his surprise, however, Ian deflected it with astonishing precision.
CLACK!
A powerful recoil drove Diol’s wooden sword aside, leaving his chest completely exposed.
Ian did not miss the opportunity. He pulled back his wooden sword and thrust forcefully toward Diol’s solar plexus, but the attack never connected.
The reason was simple.
He was too slow.
Ian’s untrained body could not produce the explosive speed he demanded of it.
However, he would not become discouraged by something so trivial. He could not stop. He needed to seize the momentum and continue pressing forward.
If they were using mana, the course of the duel would have changed entirely. This, however, was purely a contest of skill and anticipation.
Ian boldly closed in and pressed the attack. He thrust, slashed, and brought his sword down.
CLACK CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
The two moved their feet without pause, exchanging attacks and defenses as though they had arranged the sequence beforehand.
A peculiar gleam appeared in Diol’s eyes as he was steadily driven backward.
This—
Was no coincidence.