The Mages blinked, then bowed slightly and opened the gate. Rylan let out a sigh as he walked through them, circulating his mana out of habit. He was now in the familyâs garden. The red and orange flowers fluttered in the breeze under the moonlight, creating the illusion that the garden was on fire. It was a welcome change from the fires of war in Rolandâs memories. For a few seconds, he stopped in place, merely looking at the garden.
Calm down.
Keeping oneâs cool was one of the most important traits of a swordsman. One needed to always be capable of precise judgement and choices. Rylan started to take the deep, rhythmic breaths that Rolandâs memories had taught him. Serenity cleared the haze created by rage.
I canât give Evenon anything he asks for.
It wasnât just because he didnât have access to something worth 1,000 gold coins or because he didnât want to ruin thirty more people. It was a matter of principle. He couldnât listen to the demands of a gang boss used to destroying othersâ lives for his benefit. He wasnât a hero of legend or a white knight in shining armor; Roland had killed far too many for that, while Rylan had made too many mistakes. However, Evenon stood right in the path to regain the trust of his family.
For his own goals, he would get the staff, one way or another, even if it meant dismantling everything Evenon had built. Since he didnât want to comply with the manâs demands, he would need to explore his second plan.
In front of the entrance to the house proper was a frowning Sarah. As he approached her, she eyed him up and down. Rylan flashed a bitter smile.
âThis was necessary.â
She said nothing, merely staring at him. Had he gone back to square one in her mind? With a sigh, he walked past her. She followed him inside.
âI need a bath.â
âYes, young master.â
They walked in silence for a while.
âAre you disappointed, Sarah?â
âIt is not my place to judge your actions, my lord.â
âI donât care about that. Answer me.â
She hesitated.
ââ¦I thought you were making honest progress, but now Iâm afraid I was mistaken.â
âI see. Do you want me to explain why I did what I did?â
âNo.â
Rylan didnât try to defend himself further. He looked at the full moon through the corridorâs windows.
âThe moon is beautiful tonight, isnât it?â
âYes, young master.â
They walked to his room.
***
Rylan woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside. He sat up with a sigh.
I used to never need to sleep.
Rolandâs Aura could sustain him for years without true sleep. Some rest was enough. As Rylan, he spent most of the time high as a kite, including the effects of stimulant drugs, so he only slept five hours per night. From Rolandâs perspective, it was still an enormous amount of time.
He wasnât particularly fond of sleeping. It was one of the states where one was most defenseless. Swordsmen routinely underwent training as apprentices to keep at least a sliver of awareness even when sleeping; it was incredibly difficult and straining to truly achieve such a state. It was different from being a light sleeper, as it meant being aware of oneâs surroundings even when deeply asleep. Many outright failed and grew stronger without this trait. Roland had been one of the few who had succeeded. However, Rylan hadnât been able to mimic this trait yet.
Iâm getting closer, though.
So long as he specifically trained it a bit every night, he should be able to achieve it in the near future. As usual, he didnât bother putting on a shirt and walked to the middle of the room. The first training session of the day officially started when he woke up. Without wasting any time, he started doing push-ups. Once his arms got tired, he switched to another exercise. The main goal was to develop his whole body without too much strain, especially considering that he would train with the soldiers soon afterward.
Timing his resting windows and the intensity of his movements, Rylan continued. It was only after some time that he stopped and stood up, letting out a breath and wiping the sweat on his forehead.
âStatus Window.â
A translucent blue screen appeared in front of him.
Status Window
Name: Rylan Flameheart
Level: 8
Race: Human (F)
Class: Mage
Profession: none.
Trait: Weak-willed
Stats
Strength: 12
Agility: 10
Endurance: 11
Body: 11
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 13
Free Points: 0
Active Skills
Magic Missile (F).
Passive Skills
Mana Core (First Circle).
Hybrid Skills
Sword Mastery (Master).
Titles
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Novice Mage; Wastrel; Good-for-Nothing; Reincarnator.
His stats had increased a bit. Improving oneself without leveling up was a slow process, but Rolandâs experience allowed him to train exactly what he needed at each point in time. His progression speed could only be described as âfrightening,â but he still wasnât satisfied. There was a long way before he reached Rolandâs level. He stared at his Trait with distaste.
Still unchanged.
Traits werenât mere adjectives or titles. They were representative of oneâs inner self. Rylanâs entire existence was summarized as âWeak-willed.â This Trait, in turn, affected his results. Whenever he depended on his willpower, this Trait would undermine his efforts. That was why others strived to get rid of negative Traits; for instance, Rylan could manage to acquire the âHard-workingâ Trait after some time keeping up with the training, which would in turn help him keep working hard. Negative Traits were insidious poison, while positive ones could grant one a sizable boost and create a positive feedback loop.
So why hasnât it changed?
He had acquired Rolandâs memories and been fundamentally changed by the experience, beyond even the memories. He couldnât be described as the same person he was before, so why was his Trait still the same?
My past lifeâs Trait was Complete Prodigy.
To think he would be stuck with a âWeak-willedâ Trait. He sighed. This needed to change. He would work himself to the bone if necessary. He looked at his other stats, rubbing his chin. The best course of action would be to improve his stats through exercise and training before spending Free Points on them. The higher his stats before he started leveling up, the more Points he would save. At the same time, leveling up would grant him stats based on his Class.
âSince my Class is a Mage, leveling up wonât change my physical stats except for Endurance⦠Itâs safe to start hunting and saving up the Free Points.â
As a swordsman, he depended mostly on his physical stats, so leveling up wouldnât hinder him. At the same time, he needed to grasp his abilities in true combat. His main goal was to train his body for a month. It was likely the most amount of time he had bought himself before Evenon got suspicious.
Evenon will probably realize something is wrong by then.
Since the man had kept the staff instead of simply reselling it, Rylan could assume that the staff would remain in Evenonâs possession. However, if it were moved somewhere else, he would be stuck at square one again. It would be best to get the heirloom back as fast as possible. To do that, he needed power. It was different from the power he had acquired as Roland. There was purpose.
Rylan let out a breath and grabbed the sword that had spent the night by his side on the bed. It slid against its scabbard as he pulled it out. He walked to the middle of the room once more, holding the weaponâs hilt firmly, then ran his fingers on the flat of the blade.
I need to know if this body can bear the Stormcaller Sword Style.
It was the most flawless beginner swordsmanship style that Roland had created by joining hundreds of different styles, but it had the sole drawback of being extremely demanding on the body. It was imperative to see if his current self could withstand it. If not, he would need to turn to other, weaker styles.
He got into the Stormcaller Sword Styleâs most ideal stance. Then, he started. Slashes flowed seamlessly into stabs. Even though the space within the bedroom was limited, Rylan utilized it perfectly as he pictured an enemy swordsman. It wasnât difficult, but that was a matter of course. Roland had fought and trained for too long for him to struggle with coming up with an enemyâs actions.
He kept a close watch on his bodyâs condition as the seconds ticked by. It took less than fifteen seconds for him to feel like he was approaching his limit. Ten seconds after that, his entire body shook. His muscles screamed at him to stop and his heart galloped in his chest. Sweat flowed down his body like rain. However, he kept perfect control of his breathing. After a few more seconds, he stopped and sighed. Without hesitation, he sat on the ground, laying the sword on his lap.
Goddamnit.
Rolandâs days as a novice had been harsh and unforgiving, but he hadnât felt as hopeless as Rylanâs current self. To think that he wasnât able to bear even thirty seconds of using the Stormcaller Sword Style. It was honestly laughable. Rylan let out another breath and stroked the swordâs blade as if he were touching a lover.
Still, it doesnât mean all is lost.
There were countless sword styles in Rolandâs memories. Even if he couldnât properly utilize the Stormcaller Sword Style, he could rely on other, simpler styles. They would do the job while he strengthened his body and tried to adapt the Stormcaller Sword Style to his current self. Finally, he looked at the System notifications floating in front of him with a smile.
[Strength has increased by 1.]
[Body has increased by 1.]
[Endurance has increased by 1.]
No amount of training was wasted. So long as he could keep this up, he would keep making progress.
He stood up, dried his body, and got dressed. This time, the clothes were more proper for training. He had asked Sarah to deliver them to his room. He looked through the window as he put the sword in the scabbard on his way. It was still dark outside. He had woken up before sunrise.
She must already be waiting for me outside.
He made sure he was ready and opened the door. As expected, Sarah was sitting on a stool next to the bedroomâs door. She stood up with an indifferent expression.
âGood morning, young master.â
He flashed her a bitter smile. She had almost gone back to her old ways of treating him after his arrival last night.
ââ¦Good morning, Sarah.â
He gestured for her to come in. She grabbed the wand on her waist and drew a few symbols in the air. The drawn shape glowed. It meant that soon, someone would come and deliver his breakfast. She then entered the bedroom as he pointed at the chair.
âFeel free to have a seat.â
She sat down while he grabbed the stool, brought it inside, and then sat on the edge of the bed. Together, they waited. Rylan broke the silence with a question.
âHave you reported back to my father yet?â
âHe asked me to only do so after watching you for a while, my lord.â
He lay on the bed, his arms spread out.
âWhat are you going to say?â
She hesitated. He immediately waved at her.
âNo, never mind. That wasnât an order.â
Silence reigned once more. After a few seconds, she spoke.
ââ¦Youâre different, young master. But I am not sure to what extent just yet.â
He nodded, closing his eyes.
âThatâs fine. Iâll show you. Iâll show everyone.â
At that moment, a knock on the door resounded. Sarah walked up to the door and opened it, then came back inside holding a tray of food. She put it on the desk as Rylan stood up.
Looks right.
The cooks were doing a good job of keeping up with his diet. He smiled and pointed at a smaller dish, near the edge of the tray.
âThatâs yours.â
For a brief moment, he thought that heâd seen the shadow of a smile cross Sarahâs face. Then, it disappeared, as if it were never there. Rylan blinked. With a smile of his own, he brought the stool to his side and sat down on the chair. She sat down on the stool. They ate in silence. Soon, both of them stood up. It was time to head to the soldiersâ training grounds.
Rylan walked while relentlessly circulating his mana. He preferred to focus on it during the afternoon or evening, but that didnât mean that he wouldnât train it in the morning. Soon, the duo reached their destination. The soldiers already there stood up and bowed, speaking.
âGood morning, young master.â
âItâs good to see you here again, my lord.â
Rylan smiled and nodded at them.
âGood morning.â
He looked at Jackâs approaching figure as he let Sarah walk off to sit on the usual bench. The soldier greeted him and he responded. Then, he spoke.
âJack, what is the average Level of the soldiers here?â
The other soldiers went silent. Some looked at the ground in shame, while the others had dejected expressions. Jack frowned slightly.
ââ¦Because we canât use magic, the average Level is low, my lord. We donât get to leave the estate much or hunt at all.â
Rylan nodded. As expected.
âThen, gather six of your best, most well-prepared men. Weâre going hunting this afternoon.â
Jack blinked repeatedly.
âHunting?â
Rylan smiled.
âYes. Something simple, not too dangerous. Not only is it important to raise your Levels, but also to acquire battle experience. Iâll protect all of you to the best of my ability.â
Jack seemed to let out a breath of relief.
âIf that is your wish, young master, we will accompany you. To be frank, I am anxious.â
Truthfully, Rylan didnât have much experience leading a group either. Roland had trained and fought alone. That was why the target choice would be crucial for this endeavor; he needed an enemy that he could defend the others against if the need arose. They couldnât use Aura, nor did they know how to use mana to strengthen themselves. It was still too early for him to teach them knowledge that important. As such, they needed a weak opponent.
âDonât worry. You guys will be fine.â
As they talked, a soldier brought out the set of armor Rylan usually wore. He put it on with practiced ease, then looked at Jack.
âAlright, then. Letâs get to running.â
The soldiers neatly arranged themselves into five lines. Rylan stood next to Jack. After a signal from Jack, they began. Rylan tried to go for as long as possible without needing to resort to his mana empowerment. It was the way he preferred to train. As usual, he was one of the first to need to stop. Jack took it as a signal to move on. The group went back to the training grounds and started weapons training. First came training with spears. The soldiers completed it faithfully under Rylanâs watchful eyes, but there was an atmosphere of unrest. It was as if they were waiting for something. Jack spoke.
âNow, itâs time for swordsmanship.â
Many of the soldiers outright smiled.