“Aaaargh!”
An apprentice knight couldn’t withstand Aiden’s strike—sent flying. The follow-up ambusher took the pommel to the solar plexus and crumpled.
“Second prince’s victory.”
Linfred’s calm declaration echoed again.
“Next! Come out!”
Aiden’s shout for the next snapped Litton awake.
But no matter how he looked, the scene made no sense.
Aiden, transformed beyond recognition from weeks ago. Apprentices helpless against his energy breathing and Stroke Swordsmanship.
Glancing at the ducal father-daughter, both stared as if soul-stolen by Aiden’s bouts.
Beyond skill level, Aiden’s burning passion in the yard exuded overwhelming presence.
Litton ground his teeth.
Impossible. Three months ago, he was a sword-illiterate pig wastrel!
How could he grow this strong in mere months?
Litton, heir-worthy talent—not stupid. To him, Aiden clearly possessed explosive growth-matching genius.
Continent Twelve-level like uncle Ebel Stroke… perhaps beyond.
Unexpected variable twisted Litton’s face demonically.
***
Since serious training, I’d lacked chance to gauge my realm.
Private room had Linfred always beside—too strong for benchmark.
Ending 3-week seclusion, finally got apprentice duo spars.
Initially just practice, but competing accumulated sword skill was fun.
Victory over the two sparked unexplained thirst.
Didn’t go all-out against Jimmy/Victoria—energy left, body itching, impulsively spoke.
Anyone, fight me.
“What’s wrong. No takers?”
Provocative; apprentices stiffened. Glanced Linfred—arms crossed, merely observing my outburst.
Soon, one stepped resolute.
“Stroke 2nd Knight Order apprentice, Raid Terrent. If not rude, I’ll go first.”
“What’d I do to you?”
“Walking mansion garden one day, stranger you said ‘annoying face’ and kicked my shin. But now I don’t mind—needn’t dwell.”
I chuckled hollowly.
Randomly kicking passing apprentice? Aiden, beyond wastrel—4D fits.
“Yeah, memory fuzzy, but sorry anyway. If grudge forgotten, why step up?”
“Just wanted to test swords with you.”
Raid spoke calmly, but eyes burned with rivalry.
Checked his sheet.
<Raid Terrent> [Level: 9/24] [Stamina: 08] [Strength: 07] [Agility: 07] [Mana: 05][
Mind: 03 ][Senses: 07] [Divinity: 00]
[Traits: Cool-headed Fighter (B), Swordsmanship Talent (C)]
[Skills: Northern Advanced Swordsmanship (C), Northern Advanced Heart Method (C)]
[Description: 16 years old, human. Stroke family apprentice knight.]
Potential level 24?
Future elite knight arrived.
Stats/traits: upgraded combo of Victoria/Jimmy’s strengths.
Proper swordplay possible. Grinned.
“Come.”
***
Thud!
Two apprentices hit cold yard floor. Onlookers shouted excited.
“S-Second prince wins again!”
Raid Terrent, Walter Bade, Annie Bellinger, Lota Hilbrant, Timon Bayer, Andre Ross, Morgan Hughes, Madoc Lewis, Carmin Capero… those felled by Aiden so far.
~40 minutes ago, intrigued regular knights discussed how Aiden would fare vs Raid.
Some worldly bet booze on winner—all on Raid, bet failed to form.
Despite Aiden crushing Victoria/Jimmy, odds on Raid simple: near-certain promotion soon, top prospect in whole Stroke knights.
Then moments later.
“Young master’s victory.”
Raid knelt after fierce battle before Aiden.
Regular knights wiped cold sweat, shifted bet: How many apprentices can Aiden fell?
Eight victories later, Aiden looked wrecked. Energy breathing overheated veins—skin flushed red, white training garb dust-caked.
Culprit spoke calmly.
“Next.”
“Stroke 2nd Knight Order apprentice, Ralph Heim!”
“Same, Benjamin Lang!”
Two brave challengers stepped up.
Raid’s loss erased self-proclaimed superiors; confident ones paired up.
Clang!
“We… lost.”
But even they couldn’t easily parry Aiden’s sharp onslaught—kneeled in 20 exchanges.
Aiden slowly regulated breath.
Scanned around.
“…Hm. Got excited.”
Muttered, ceased long-maintained energy breathing. Circulation stop cooled heated skin gradually.
“No more wanting to spit on my face? If none, end today’s spars.”
Apprentices clamped mouths shut. Contempt for wastrel second prince from minutes ago—vanished clean. Replaced by awe.
Clap clap clap!
Sudden applause from entrance. Middle-aged man.
None other than visiting VIP, Duke Elvio Utland.
“Impressive. Didn’t know Stroke apprentices trained so passionately. All thanks to grand duke blood leading by example?”
Behind duke: four companions. Aiden past bewildered Ridley/Aila, shifted gaze. Stunning beauty girl and bug-bitten Litton entered view.
“Oh right, observation today or something.”
Momentarily forgot.
***
<Elvio Utland> [Level: 38/41] [Stamina: 06] [Strength: 04] [Agility: 07] [Mana: 24] [Mind: 16] [Senses: 10] [Divinity: 01]
[Traits: Magic Prodigy (B), Mana Eye (B), Mana Detection (C)] [Skills: Ultimate Enchant (A), Utland Mana Circulation (B), Crimson Tower Advanced Destruction Magic (B), Ring Formation (C), Magic Combat (C) +3] [Description: 47 years old, human. Croa Kingdom great lord. Interested in researching various magic systems.]
Sheet seen pre-possession. Name atop stiffened my expression slightly. Heard from Linia, but seeing this eccentric in person—fresh sentiment.
“Long time, Your Grace.”
“Yes, Aiden. Fuzzy when last met. Before Chesa to magic tower—at least 5 years? Much improved physique.”
Nicely phrased ‘gained weight.’ Tell him months of death-effort slimming—he’d faint.
Croa duke Elvio Utland seems jovial uncle, unfitting high status.
But multiple Reca Chronicles reads.
I know how psycho he is. Kidnaps/imprisons women with rare magic traits, sows his seed indiscriminately—elves, beastkin, non-humans too.
For superior magic offspring, not lust. Eugenic folly.
Ironically, produced lifetime masterpiece.
The girl beside him—Chesa.
I looked. Long semi-curled platinum twin-tails—she surpassed imagination in beauty. Eyes met briefly; she averted shyly.
Sensing awkward air, Elvio laughed heartily.
“Chesa shy. Future couple conscious—hard to be casual as before. Time will fix.”
“Ah, yes…”
“Give you two catch-up time later. Today, thanks to prince’s invite—great show.”
Litton invited duke to principality.
Hearing, Litton side-eyed Chesa uncomfortably.
Aha.
Hides well, but obvious to me—he lusts after Chesa. Planned humiliation before father-in-law/fiancée.
Soon Litton cleared throat, approached.
“…S-Seeing dormant talent fully exerted—proud as brother. Well done, Aiden.”
Panic evident, but genteel praise. Usually snide—faking before duke.
No intent to play along.
“So what?”
“…Eek!”
Litton flared momentarily, recalled duke’s presence—hid anger behind smile.
“Birthday duel with regular knight exciting. Achievements unbelievable—I’ll pick fitting opponent. Fine?”
“Your opponent: regular knight Julio Bass.”
Suddenly burly youth stepped from behind Litton, greeted.
“Grand prince guard regular knight, Julio Bass. Saw your efforts well.”
Wait, why you here?
Julio Bass—original novel, Ridley’s closest aide. Absent from yard puzzled; Litton personally raised prospect.
Stone-faced, bloodless if pricked—exact novel description.
“Great talent, promoted only 1 year ago. Surely good match.”
Checked Julio’s sheet.
<Julio Bass> [Level: 16/37] [Stamina: 09] [Strength: 10] [Agility: 09] [Mana: 08][Mind: 04] [Senses: 05] [Divinity: 00]
[Traits: Swordsmanship Prodigy (B), Indestructible Body (B)] [Skills: Stroke Heart Method (B), Stroke Swordsmanship (B), Northern Advanced Swordsmanship (C)] [Description: 17 years old, human. Promising Stroke family regular knight.]
Good match?
Total bullshit.
Compared to part 1’s 8-years-later Julio—lacking, but now beyond regular, bottom elite knight. Unwinnable for current me.
Reading air, Litton already pocketed father’s aides/vassals.
Objection useless.
Even Shpiol send-off topic likely his influence.
Obvious intent.
Banish me to front, break engagement in absence, claim her via backroom.
Sarcastically:
“Heir personally caring—honored.”
“Haha, no hard feelings. Blood brothers, right?”
Litton laughed heartily. But eyes oozed intense jealousy.
True, his Julio tough for now. But victory plan prepared—ignore birthday duel for now.
Important: Chesa.
She—or rather, the dazzling character sheet floating before her—firmly captured my eyes.
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