The True Villainess Niece is Training
Four days had passed since Oden's Spartan training began.
The training grounds, which Abel had practically monopolized until now, had gained an unexpectedly fierce new guest.
Thud!
"Ow!?"
"Your footwork's still too slow. I told you, didn't I? Don't think about dodging—dodge purely on sight."
"Yes! Please, one more time."
"Good spirit. Alright, then…."
"Eek!?"
For those four days, Liriet had charged at Oden without respite, day in and day out.
Thanks to her, cracks spiderwebbed across the pristine training ground floor, and the spots where she'd landed on her butt about twenty times were now polished smooth to the touch.
"Haat! Hup!"
Liriet swung her wooden sword without a moment's rest.
Afternoons after lunch were for self-training.
Even then, when she could have slacked off a bit, she held her ground silently until the sun dipped low.
She even took her meals right there in the training grounds.
At first, Kasdia, who found it an eyesore, ordered the servants not to bring her food—but unfortunately, that order never reached me.
"Lunch today? Bring it over."
"P-Pardon!? Y-Young Master, that's the meal for the Madam…!"
"It's all the same food anyway. Just tell her I'm hungry and took it first."
"I'll get in trouble!"
Whenever that happened, I'd teleport straight to the kitchen and snag the finished dishes.
It wasn't stealing, of course.
"Niece, eat first, then we'll continue."
"Yes, Uncle."
Oden ate separately at the mansion anyway, so I only needed to look after Liriet.
That naturally left just the two of us during mealtimes.
"Is it good?"
"It's delicious. But Uncle, aren't you eating?"
"I told you—I ate while you were training."
"Oh, right, you did."
It was a blatant lie, of course, but pure Liriet believed me.
Skipping one meal wouldn't cause any real harm to my body, so I didn't mind.
If anything, watching her forget her manners and stuff her face heartily filled me up.
"In just four days, the training clothes I gave you are already in tatters."
"S-Sorry. The training's so intense…."
"I'm not scolding you. I'm happy about it."
The pristine white training garb I'd given her was already fraying in spots after a mere four days.
But I didn't mind at all.
Liriet seemed inwardly worried about it, though.
"I'll get you a few more sets of the same. Anything else you need?"
"No, nothing. Having you here with me is more than enough."
"…Kh."
"Uncle?"
Ah, even I, who doesn't cry easily, felt tears welling up.
What an exemplary niece I have—what to do with her?
The world needed to know about this precious soul, even just one more person.
For a moment, I desperately missed TV and the internet.
One photo posted online, and she'd be an SNS star by tomorrow.
"It's nothing. Anyway, any spots you're struggling with?"
"Um… actually, quite a few. But I felt bad asking Sword Saint so much."
I knew it.
That's why, at the end of some sessions, she'd looked disappointed, like an engine sputtering out.
She must feel guilty for dragging Oden into her personal matters and burdening him.
'He wouldn't even care.'
With his personality, if she asked for one more tip, he'd light up with enthusiasm and teach her gladly.
But telling her that wouldn't help much.
She's so perceptive—she'd just think I was lying to ease her guilt.
I could hint to Oden to draw out her inner thoughts, but our rapport isn't deep enough yet for that.
No helping it, then.
For my niece, I'd have to step up here.
"Then, could you open up to me instead of Duke Craig?"
"To you, Uncle? But you're…."
"Right, not a swordsman. I might know even less about swords than you do."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"No worries. It's the truth."
It wasn't for nothing that I was called the black sheep of the Argent family.
Even Liriet was said to have slightly less talent than Abel.
Though that was just fabricated by Kasdia and Abel.
I truly had zero talent for the sword.
Not just lack of interest—I flat-out couldn't do it.
"But there's something my niece is forgetting."
"Forgetting?"
"Yeah. What’s this uncle's profession?"
"A mage… right?"
"Exactly."
"……?"
She blinked her bright eyes and tilted her head, as if we were trading koans.
A picture's worth a thousand words—better to show her.
Honestly, I'd never tried it myself, so I couldn't be sure.
'But it'll work somehow.'
No arrogance here, but I'm still a genius who reached 7th Circle faster than that monster of a mentor.
As long as I don't overdo it, I can manage.
"Lend me that wooden sword for a sec?"
"This one?"
"No, the one Duke Craig used and left behind."
"Oh, this?"
I took the sword Oden had discarded before heading to eat, and focused my mind.
This was a trump card spell I'd planned to try only after reaching at least 8th Circle.
Somehow, it was getting used here.
Well, the requirement was 7th Circle, so no major strain.
The issue was the target: none other than the world's Sword Saint….
"I'm about to use a spell, so pretend I'm Duke Craig and ask your questions. Got it?"
"Pardon?"
"Here goes."
I chanted swiftly, ignoring her confusion.
"I call upon your memory."
⟨ Phantom Resonance ⟩
Crackle!
"……!"
My whole body screamed as if electrocuted by high voltage.
Whoa, insane.
It hurt like hell.
Even for that old monster, I hadn't expected it to be this rough.
"U-Uncle? Are you okay? Something strange just…."
Sorry, I tried to play it cool, but I couldn't hide it.
It's a spell even top-tier mages find burdensome.
Still, I'd cast it successfully somehow.
Duration: less than an hour, probably.
A bit short, but enough to address what Liriet wanted.
Now, then….
Bonk!
"Ow!? U-Uncle?"
The moment I felt my awareness sink a little.
Before I could control it, my hand shot out, balled into a fist, and flicked her forehead.
She looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to do that.
'Sorry!'
Believe me, it's not this uncle's true heart.
"Ach, you foolish girl. Why fret and worry over every little thing?"
"Uh, huh? Uncle, you're acting weird all of a sudden…?"
"Enough nonsense—grab that sword again. Where was it not going as you wanted?"
"Ah, well, it's…."
Liriet seemed flustered by my 180-degree personality shift.
Then, recalling my earlier words, she gripped the wooden sword and spoke haltingly.
"Like you said last time, when I turn here, it feels off. Then taking the next stance…."
"That's usually the waist. Women's hips differ fundamentally from men's. This old body showed you, but don't copy it blindly. Use not just power, but flexibility."
"O-Old body? No way, Uncle…."
Now she gets it.
That I'm Oden right now.
Well, my self-awareness remains intact.
This is the spell Phantom Resonance.
It reads memories imbued in an object and fully copies that person's skills, personality, and more onto your body.
Unlike polymorph spells that mimic only appearance.
This replicates everything except the exterior.
But being so overpowered, it has major drawbacks.
Requires at least 7th Circle.
A 7th Circle mage has no need to mimic others.
Summoning someone superior shortens duration drastically.
And the biggest flaw: can't use on the dead.
This isn't necromancy.
"What are you dawdling for? Time's short—do as I say."
"Y-Yes!"
At my Oden-impersonation bellow, Liriet hastily gripped her sword and adjusted her stance.
"No, still clumsy! No room for error in your movements! Again!"
"Hup!"
"Oh, much better this time. As expected of such talent— you learn fast."
"Hee, thank you, Uncle."
She knew it was me channeling Oden, yet thanked me—funny and adorable.
Maybe because my appearance stayed the same.
She asked her burning questions more freely than with Oden, fixing her flaws step by step.
"Too much force in the waist this time! You'll collapse before ten exchanges!"
"Yes!"
"Thrusts matter, but mind the recovery! That's when a swordsman is most vulnerable!"
"Yesss!"
Thus ended the hour-long dream lecture, a collaboration between Baal Argent and Oden Craig.
"Hah, haa…!"
Liriet collapsed limply, looking like she might vomit up lunch.
But I'd cast a protective spell on her beforehand, just in case—no harm done.
'No major aftereffects.'
I'd worried summoning that old man, but post-dispel, no big backlash.
Probably because I didn't fight—just moved and swung a sword.
Actual combat would've laid me up for a day.
Even now, my head spun slightly.
His knowledge flooded in and out in an instant.
"Good work. The spell was short, so I pushed hard— you kept up well."
"Yes. It felt like learning from you, Uncle, so I was extra happy and did better."
"That made you happy?"
Wouldn't she prefer Oden himself?
Though it was essentially the real deal, just my face.
I didn't get it, but if Liriet liked it, fine.
We could keep this routine for a while.
Lessons from Oden, then an hour of me patching gaps intensively.
Whoosh.
I summoned a gentle breeze to cool her off.
She smiled happily—"hee"—and looked up at me with sparkling eyes.
"Uncle. I worked hard…. Could you do that thing from before, just once more?"
"What thing?"
"P-Pat my head."
Pat-pat—even the word choice is cute.
Of course I'd do it.
"As much as you want. Anything else?"
"Then…. Call me by name. You've gone back to 'niece' lately."
"Liriet. Like that?"
"Hee-hee, yes! I'm so happy."
Yeah, most times someone called her name, it was for bad reasons.
Servants always said "miss."
Bitter, really.
That a child this young could be so overjoyed by a simple name or head pat.
"…Hm?"
I was silently stroking her hair, letting her rest without a word.
Then, through the training ground window slits, something streaked by.
I frowned.
That hair color just now….
"Uncle, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
…Looks like the vermin is slinking out.