Had Ian received swordsmanship lessons from someone? The question naturally arose in Diol’s mind as he faced him.
‘Not bad. Not bad at all!’
His breathing was steady, and he did not grow impatient even though every one of his attacks was being blocked.
Diol occasionally struck at an opening, attempting to break Ian’s sequence and disrupt his rhythm, but Ian responded fluidly each time.
There was no doubt about it.
His skills had improved tremendously compared to two years ago.
Diol was not merely evaluating him generously because he was his younger brother. Even from the objective perspective of a Level 5 knight, it was an undeniable fact.
‘Has this idiot finally come to his senses?’
A year ago, Diol had seen Ian lose all interest in the sword and fall into a life of ruin after the unpleasant incident at his coming-of-age ceremony.
Unable to bear the sight, Diol had advised him to stop drinking all the time, move his body occasionally, and at least take walks outside.
Perhaps Ian had taken his advice to heart, for Diol had soon heard that he had begun going hunting.
Of course, he had also heard that Ian still refused to so much as look at a sword. Yet now that they were sparring, it appeared he had not neglected swordsmanship entirely.
He had clearly been working hard in his own way.
‘No, wait. Working hard?’
Diol recalled the conversation he had shared with Sir Arot, the villa’s steward, the previous night.
Sir Arot had said that Ian habitually slept late and spent his days occupied with hunting and drinking.
He had sighed as he confessed his concern that Ian, despite being born into a prestigious family, did nothing but indulge himself and might soon disgrace the name of the house to which Arot had devoted his lifelong loyalty.
‘He is not the sort of man who would lie.’
Diol glanced around the training ground. Fallen leaves that had blown in from somewhere were scattered everywhere.
Had Ian trained every day—or even occasionally—the servants would have cleaned the grounds. That was their duty.
The fact that they had not meant that no one had used the training ground recently. In that case, Ian must have practiced his swordsmanship in secret.
‘Was that even possible?’
Sir Arot was a knight. A Level 5 knight, no less.
Although he had grown old and his body had weakened with age, Diol knew that his skill remained intact. Had Ian truly practiced swordsmanship while avoiding the notice of a man like him, as well as the loyal servants of House Berger?
‘For what purpose?’
Ian had no reason to conceal his strength. Why would he go to such lengths?
Moreover, Diol was skeptical of the idea that Ian had trained in secret. Had he truly practiced diligently, the evidence would inevitably have remained on his body.
Yet judging from Ian’s outward appearance, he did not look as though he had trained at all.
‘What is this?’
Then this could only mean—
‘Is it pure talent?’
But had Ian possessed such talent, someone would have noticed it long ago. The incident at his coming-of-age ceremony would never have occurred, and he would not have spent an entire year living like a ruined man at the villa.
Had he reached some belated enlightenment or encountered an extraordinary opportunity?
Diol could not understand it, but he could find no other explanation.
‘I would like to test him a little further.’
However, Ian’s stamina appeared to be reaching its limit, so it seemed best to end the duel here. That did not mean Diol intended to conclude it halfheartedly.
“Let us end this.”
As he spoke, Diol attempted to deftly sweep Ian’s sword aside with an advanced technique that even seasoned knights struggled to defend against.
CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
“What?”
Ian responded skillfully, as though he had known exactly what Diol intended.
Diol was deeply startled. Their swords were entangled in a complex bind, and breaking free was not easy. In the end, he had no choice but to exert far more strength than necessary.
“Urgh!?”
Ian groaned. Victory had seemed within reach, but his inadequate strength betrayed him, and his wooden sword was pushed helplessly aside.
Diol brought his sword down through the opening that appeared.
Naturally, he did not intend to strike Ian. He planned to stop the sword the moment it reached his neck.
But with fierce determination burning in his eyes, Ian suddenly thrust out his bare hand.
‘That mad bastard!’
A wooden sword might not possess a sharp edge, but it was still dangerous.
Moreover, this was camphor wood, which was said to possess a weight comparable to metal. One wrong move could break Ian’s bones.
Startled, Diol hurriedly tried to pull the sword back, but all he managed to do was lessen the force behind it.
THUD!
Without hesitation, Ian caught the wooden sword with his palm. He grimaced from the pain, but immediately placed his own sword against the side of Diol’s neck.
Strictly speaking, the blade tapped his neck lightly.
Yet rather than taking offense, Diol merely blinked.
Just now—
The wooden sword had touched his neck.
Had it been a real sword, his throat would have been cut.
In other words, he had lost.
‘I lost? A Level 5 knight?’
To this idiot?
It was difficult to accept.
As Ian watched him, he lightly tapped Diol’s shoulder with the wooden sword before withdrawing it.
“I won.”
Diol, who had been staring blankly, slowly pulled the corners of his mouth upward.
“…Ha.”
There were words rising to his throat, but he forcibly swallowed them and struggled to smile.
“I was going easy on you.”
“I know. But that does not change the fact that I won, does it?”
“How about another round?”
“No. I am tired.”
Ian handed his wooden sword to Diol, whose eyes were twitching.
Diol accepted it almost reflexively and stared at Ian in confusion.
“What is this?”
“The loser puts the swords away.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Come now. What is so difficult about returning a pair of wooden swords? It is simple. Go and put them away.”
“You little….”
Leaving Diol behind with a wooden sword in each hand, Ian walked out of the training ground.
However, two people were waiting outside.
They were the steward and the gamekeeper.
The elderly man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face stepped forward. He was Sir Arot.
“What are you both doing here? Were you waiting for me?”
“Yes. We went to see you this morning, but you were not in your room, so we were worried. How is your body…? Are you unharmed?”
“Did you not watch the entire duel?”
Arot nodded. In truth, even after witnessing it himself, he could hardly believe his eyes.
Diol was a Level 5 knight. Although he had only recently reached Level 5, that did not mean he lacked skill.
On the contrary, he was a genius who had attained that realm several years earlier than most, and his understanding of swordsmanship was considerable.
Yet Ian, who had spent his days idling about like a ruined man, had fought Diol on equal footing and defeated him.
Even considering that neither of them had used mana and that Diol had restrained himself, the result was unbelievable.
Ian gave a faint laugh and turned toward the gamekeeper beside Arot.
“Then you already know. As you saw, I am perfectly fine, so there is no need to worry. I understand why Sir Arot is here, but why is Seongjin with you?”
“He said he wished to ask for your forgiveness, so I brought him here.”
Ian chuckled.
“I fell from the cliff entirely because of my own mistake. There is nothing to forgive. It is fine. More importantly, I have sweated quite a lot, and I feel unpleasantly sticky. I would like to wash, so I will go on ahead.”
Arot and Seongjin were both taken aback by Ian’s words.
No, they were dumbfounded.
The immature young master they knew would normally have blamed anyone but himself….
Leaving the two of them standing there with vacant expressions, Ian returned to the villa.
He immediately instructed a servant to tell the cook to prepare a generous breakfast and ordered warm water to be brought.
After leisurely washing the sweat from his body and changing his clothes, he headed for the dining room.
Two servants were busily carrying dishes of food to the table, while Diol had already begun eating without waiting for him.
Ian sat down and slowly surveyed the various dishes spread across the table with dazed eyes. He swallowed.
“Wow.”
How long had it been since he had seen a proper meal?
He was suddenly reminded of the time he had spent wandering with the Champion. In truth, not even a full day had passed since he returned to the past, so those memories were hardly old.
It had been difficult to find proper food while traveling through the territory of the Zyle Empire, which had become part of the Outer Sea.
There were even times when they had needed to be cautious about lighting a fire. If monsters caught the scent and came looking for them, matters would become troublesome.
Of course, their group had included a mage who could manipulate subspace, so their meals had been luxurious compared to the days when Ian traveled alone.
Even so, they had not been satisfying. They could never eat as much as they pleased.
Perhaps that was why the sight of such an abundant meal moved him so deeply.
He picked up his knife and fork, immediately cut off a large piece of meat, and stuffed it into his mouth. It was so tender that it seemed to melt the instant it touched his tongue.
“Mmm!”
This was the taste he remembered. Perhaps because of the intense exercise he had done that morning, the food went down effortlessly.
Diol, seated at the head of the table as though it naturally belonged to him, looked at Ian with contempt.
“Have you been starving? Eat more slowly. You look undignified.”
“This is more than dignified enough. Would you like me to show you what eating like a beast truly looks like?”
“Good grief. You idiot. I should not have said anything.”
Ian emptied one dish after another, displaying a vigorous appetite.
After silently watching him for some time, Diol took a sip of water and spoke.
“Ian.”
“Mm?”
“Let us return to the main estate.”
“No.”
Ian used a piece of soft white bread to wipe the remaining sauce from his plate and answered firmly without a moment’s hesitation.
“Stop being stubborn. You have spent two years amusing yourself. You cannot remain here forever. You know that as well as I do.”
He was right.
However, in Ian’s previous life, he had spent four full years at the villa living in debauchery under the pretense that he needed rest.
He had no intention of doing the same this time, but he could not return immediately.
Diol continued after a brief pause.
“Your swordsmanship was rather impressive. You are not planning to let that talent rot away, are you? If you delay much longer, there may be no hope for you.”
“I know.”
Those who had reached Level 6 among the Champion’s companions had often said the same thing.
-If only I had been a little younger….
-You should have worked harder when you were young.
Ian could almost hear their voices again.
“Then?”
“I will return to the main estate.”
“Truly?”
“I have no intention of living like this forever.”
Ian placed the bread, now soaked with sauce, into his mouth. The sweet sauce and soft bread blended harmoniously across his tongue.
But why did Diol look moved when he had not even tasted it?
“Good. You have made the right decision. A year ago, you looked as though someone had died whenever we so much as mentioned the main estate. Our idiot fell from a cliff once and became an entirely new man. As your brother, I can finally feel somewhat relieved. Since the matter has been decided, let us return together this afternoon.”
“I never said I would leave immediately. I intend to remain here for another year.”
Diol’s expression crumpled at once.
“Why?”
“I want to build up my body first. I need to lose some weight, improve my stamina, and increase my strength. There is a great deal to do.”
“You can do all of that at the main estate, can you not? It would be far better than this place. The training grounds are much larger, the armory contains a greater variety of weapons and equipment, and there are tools to assist with physical training. There are also people who can help you, so you would be able to train systematically. If anything happened, you could receive treatment immediately. Should you desire it, either I or our elder brother could make time to teach you.”
“What about Father?”
“Father….”
Diol trailed off and closed his mouth. It was an indirect admission that such a thing would be difficult.
Ian understood.
His father and the head of House Berger, Granod Berger, was a Level 7 warrior and one of the strongest individuals on the continent.
According to the final letters Ian had exchanged with his siblings before his regression, they believed Granod might have advanced from Level 7 to Level 8. However, Ian did not know whether that was true.
He had never gone to see him.
In any case, Ian had mentioned his father because he wanted instruction of the highest possible level.
His eldest brother, Berdan Berger, would eventually obtain a Spirit Star, just as Diol would. At present, however, both of them were merely Level 5, so Ian doubted they would be of much help.
Ian asked Diol again as he remained silent.
“It would be difficult, would it not?”
“Are you not being excessively greedy? Do you think you could suddenly reach Level 5 or Level 6 merely because a Spirit Star holder taught you? To put it bluntly, unless you were at least Level 5, the Head of the House—no, Father—would not make time for you. Even our elder brother and I have not received his instruction because he says it is still too early for us.”
“That is why I do not intend to return immediately. Even if I went back now, it would be difficult to earn Father’s recognition. You know that as well as I do.”
“You brought that upon yourself, idiot.”
The remark struck like a dagger plunging into Ian’s heart.
Ian gave a bitter smile.
“You are right. I am an idiot. No—I was an idiot.”
He looked directly at Diol.
“But that idiot died on the day he fell from the cliff.”