Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The Worst Time
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“What was the youngest’s name again?”
That was a question my eldest martial brother often asked me.
In truth, it wasn’t just him; my other martial brothers were the same.
At first, I thought they were just having trouble remembering it, but even after they had it memorized, they would repeat the question as if teasing me.
Each time, I couldn’t help but smile and state my name once more.
“It’s Ruan.”
“Ruan Bednicker.”
They told me they initially thought Bednicker was my first name.
Or that my family name was ‘Ru’ and my given name was ‘An.’
When I later clarified that Ruan was my first name, they nodded in understanding.
As if to say, *ah, that naming convention exists too.*
It seemed my background was a bit unusual, even among the five disciples my master had taken in.
The Bednicker Family.
A family with the blood of the elven race flowing through their veins, granting them immense innate power.
A clan of monsters who displayed talent that was second to none in most fields.
The distinctive, handsome looks of the elves were just a bonus.
But not for me.
My looks? Objectively, I wasn't ugly. If I had to say, I was on the handsome side. It was just that the rest of my family members were all so absurdly good-looking.
To put it in perspective, I was like a piece of glass art placed among the finest jewels.
I also lacked talent.
…Hmm. Let me correct that.
It wasn't that I lacked it; I had none.
It wasn't a matter of my comprehension of the martial arts being poor.
It’s a bit much to say it myself, but I wasn’t stupid. In fact, my memory was excellent, and I was quick-witted.
My master, who was stingy with his praise, had said so himself, so it must be true.
The problem was my constitution.
I had a peculiar constitution that couldn't receive a Blessing, which, for a member of a [Great Family] descended from heroes, was no different from a curse.
At the Blessing Ceremony when I was fifteen, I received no blessing at all.
Considering that the average Bednicker received at least three, and as many as five, blessings, what happened to me was unprecedented in history.
In a bad way, of course.
Still, before the Blessing Ceremony, I don't think I was completely devoid of grit.
My heart would race at tales of heroes, the continent’s strongest warriors, and stories of adventure. I even admired them.
That’s why the despair was so much greater.
Honestly, I wanted to die.
My siblings offered no sympathy. Most of them looked down on me as if I were filth.
Their scorn was hard to bear. It wasn't long ago that we were playing together, swinging wooden swords.
“It’s all right. A Bednicker can participate in the second Blessing Ceremony. Until then, I will train you myself.”
My mother said as much, but I didn’t have the confidence to endure the contempt until then.
So I acted out, refusing to even attend the academy for nobles.
In other words, I became a good-for-nothing.
I spent the family’s money freely and hurled abuse at the servants. The crowning achievement among my misdeeds was selling off the Bednicker family’s treasured sword.
*I must have been out of my mind. To think I was crazy about gambling back then.*
This was one of the most insane things I had ever done, and rumors of it spread far and wide, not just within the country but abroad as well.
Naturally, the family’s honor was tarnished, and some of my more hot-headed siblings drew their swords to kill me.
Frankly, I couldn't understand the judgment of my father, the Family Head, who stopped them.
Of course, I wasn't killed, but I was sent to the frontier, practically kicked out…
In effect, I had been completely cast out of the Bednicker family.
Even after all that, I didn’t come to my senses.
I lived like trash, and eventually, the tendons in my right arm were severed…
Afterward, I wandered, pretending to be a vagrant knight and a minstrel, before finally ending up as a mercenary.
I had no Blessing, and the tendons in my arm were cut, but my skill with a sword wasn't half bad, so I managed to stay alive.
Still, I never once felt peace in my life.
Of course, the cause was entirely my own.
Because of some misplaced pride in my noble lineage, I could never easily blend in wherever I went.
Whenever people opened their hearts to me, I would always dismiss them, citing my bloodline and status.
Then, when I was twenty, after my mother passed away due to a certain incident, I completely lost my mind.
I wandered the continent as if searching for a place to die, and at the age of twenty-five, I died.
I was swept up in a war started by the worshippers of the Calamity God.
*So my shitty life ends here…*
As I clearly felt the sensation of death, my whole body growing cold, I suddenly felt as if I were floating.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a basin on some mountain shrouded in fog.
“Huh?”
There were no wounds on my body.
As I stood there blankly, unable to grasp the situation, an old man abruptly appeared.
He was an old man in clothes only slightly better than rags, with disheveled hair.
“How do you do.”
“Y-Yes?”
“From today, you are my disciple.”
The old man grinned and spouted that nonsense.
Naturally, my reaction was perfectly reasonable.
“This old bastard has lost his mind—”
Before I could finish my curse, my head snapped to the side. I had been slapped hard across the cheek.
I thought my jaw was going to dislocate.
“What kind of talk is that to your master? Do you want to die?”
“W-Who are you? Do you even know who I am?”
“You? You’re my disciple, you little bastard.”
A fist returned with a cheerful laugh, and our conversation didn't resume until the sun set.
In other words, I was beaten senseless.
I can say with certainty that it was one of the most painful days in my entire tragic life.
I was amazed I didn't pass out, but it wasn't because I was tough.
It was simply because this crazy old man was an expert at beating people.
Anyway, when I came to my senses, only one simple fact remained in my head.
*Do not get on this old man’s bad side.*
“Hmm. It seems you are finally ready.”
The crazy old man nodded, smiling with satisfaction.
—And then hell began.
In other words, my training began, but to me back then, training was hell and hell was training, so there wasn't much of a difference.
And the words ‘master’ and ‘devil’ were synonyms.
Baek Rogwang was a devil. At first, I couldn't have resented him more.
All the people in the Bednicker family who treated me like trash, combined, were not as hateful as Baek Rogwang.
But.
“Straighten your back. If you look down on the world, your vision will also narrow. I told you to narrow your stance. Do you want me to crush your balls, you brat?”
“Conserve your breath and cool your head. The world is too vast to get heated over mere training. There are things in this world that will make you burn with passion, as numerous as weeds on a prairie.”
“I told you to get that servile look out of your eyes. Whose approval are you seeking? You are the disciple of Baek Rogwang, the World’s Greatest. You need not bow your head to anyone but your master.”
“Hahaha. Now your posture is starting to take shape. Well done.”
“……”
Well done.
I don’t know how long it had been since I heard those words.
At some point, praise had vanished from my life. Even my mother, whom I had followed the most, would console me but never praised me.
All I had received was unbearable scorn, disgust, and an evaluation slightly better than filth.
The devil, the one I had considered a devil, at some point became my savior.
I am still keenly aware of that fact even now.
I know how hopeless I was. It would have been absolutely impossible to fix my rotten mentality with anything other than Baek Rogwang’s violence.
Anyway, the hellish training continued for about a decade.
I felt myself gradually getting stronger, which was satisfying and fun, but it was also a little disappointing.
Because on Spirit Mountain, there was no one but my master and me. My strength was growing, but with nowhere to properly test it, I couldn't help but feel frustrated.
Of course, beings called ‘martial brothers’ did visit a few times.
Whether by order or by skill, I was the youngest, and my martial brothers were all monsters.
Truly talents that my master had scouted while roaming the world.
Since my martial brothers rarely visited Spirit Mountain, my opponents were usually the monsters that inhabited the mountain. But after reaching a certain level, even they were no longer a match for me.
In the end, the only sparring partner left was my master.
But I had never once managed to even grab the hem of his clothes.
For ten long years, sparring more than twenty times a day, not even once.
Days of getting beaten continued like that, until the incident of yesterday happened.
“M-My lord, you’re awake!”
“Oh, my! By Baal!”
“Are you all right?”
“……”
I opened my eyes as the fifteen-year-old Ruan Bednicker.
*…Shit.*
* * *
If someone were to ask me which period of my life I would least want to return to, I could answer without hesitation.
Fifteen years old.
What was the life of the fifteen-year-old Ruan Bednicker like?
I was experiencing it firsthand right now.
The moment I woke up, I felt pain all over my body.
Still, this was manageable enough.
“…Ugh.”
My eyes are so swollen it’s hard to open them.
“Are you all right, my lord?”
“We are so glad you’ve regained consciousness.”
“I wonder if the butler didn’t go too far this time…”
“……”
I can’t quite grasp the situation.
With my barely open eyes, I looked down at my arm.
…Indeed, seeing this gaunt arm, which looked like a skeleton with only skin stretched over it, it seemed I had really returned to the past.
“Wha ish goin on?”
For the record, I was trying to say, ‘What is going on?’ Damn it. The inside of my mouth is completely raw.
One of the servants, who somehow managed to understand my slurred speech, answered.
“Do you not remember, my lord? You were having a mock battle with Butler Arjan.”
Arjan?
“Then something was said, and the butler’s hands became exceedingly harsh.”
“……”
Arjan. I remember who that is.
The young butler of the Bednicker Family.
She wore a pitch-black suit with a necktie, gloves, and a monocle—truly a model butler in appearance…
I heard that she owed her life to my father, the Family Head, during the territorial war ten years ago and had been loyal to the Bednicker family ever since.
“When did that happen?”
After speaking a little, I seemed to have figured out how to enunciate without slurring.
“Three days ago.”
So I’ve been unconscious for a full three days?
“And Arjan?”
“She is reflecting in a separate cottage. She has had nothing but water for the past three days.”
“Did I order that?”
“No. The butler is doing it voluntarily…”
…This incident.
I don’t remember it well.
What was I doing to end up in this state?
I furrowed my brow, and then it came to me.
*Ah.*
Right.
On this day, at fifteen,
I had thoroughly provoked Arjan, who was overseeing my training.
—Then let a war break out! If a war started now, I could become so much stronger than you or the Family Head!
—…
—Am I wrong, Butler? I heard that heroes are born in times of chaos and war!
*Wow.*
I was struck anew by what a truly remarkable bastard the fifteen-year-old Ruan Bednicker had been.
Arjan was a war orphan.
She had lost her entire family in the war that swept the kingdom, an event that happened when she was just five years old.
To stand before such a person and wish for a war to break out… getting beaten like this was, in a sense, only natural.
Of course, one could argue, ‘how dare a servant beat up the young master,’ but sadly, within the family hierarchy, Arjan’s standing was likely higher than mine.
At fifteen, it was right after I had sold the family’s treasured sword…
And Arjan, during her time working at the main estate, had earned such deep trust from my father, the Family Head, that she was highly respected.
My current standing is probably similar to that of the lowest-ranking servant in the family, or perhaps slightly better?
*On top of that, Father must have entrusted all of my education to Arjan.*
Although she had been severe, it meant that there was a justification for this violence—it was part of my education.
Yet, after leaving me in this state, Arjan had gone to a solitary room to willingly accept punishment.
It was a testament to just how principled a person Arjan was.
“A mirror.”
At my short command, a servant brought me a mirror. I looked at my face and nodded.
Swollen and bruised all over. My face reminded me of a dish my master had sometimes made called a dumpling.
Still, though the outside was a mess, the wounds were starting to heal, and the swelling was beginning to go down.
If I circulate the Arts of the Greatest of All Time…
I should be able to move by tomorrow at the earliest, or the day after at the latest.
*For now, I think I need to rest more.*
I wasn’t faking it; my body truly had no strength.
My eyelids felt as if something heavy were resting on them, but I forced myself to ask.
“By the way, what time is it now?”
“It is just past eleven at night.”
So that’s why I’m sleepy.
“All right. You may all leave.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll call you again if I need anything.”
“Ah, I underst—”
Just then, I sensed a commotion from outside the door.
“Y-You can’t do this. This is the young master’s room…”
“Then it seems I’ve come to the right place.”
“The young master has only just awoken!”
“Isn’t that fortunate? I find it rather distasteful to collect from someone who is unconscious.”
It seemed some sort of dispute was happening with someone…
The moment I heard the word [collect], I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me, and my mind snapped wide awake.
*Creak!*
The door opened, and a dapper-looking old man appeared.
His white hair and the wrinkles on his face told of a life in its twilight years.
But apart from that, his straight back and well-built shoulders could not be hidden even by his suit.
“……”
The old man scanned the room with an indifferent expression, and the servants whose eyes met his hastily bowed their heads.
Finally, his gaze landed on me.
The old man bowed his head with disciplined precision.
“Pardon the intrusion, Lord Ruan. I am Keian, the Collector.”
“……”
—Fifteen.
The worst time of my life, a time I never wanted to return to.
At this time, I had participated in the Blessing Ceremony.
I was judged to be incompetent.
I was practically disowned by my family.
I was beaten to a pulp by the butler.
And finally, the tendons in my arm were severed.
“By order of the Family Head, I have come to execute the collection.”
And now, the very person who had severed my tendons in the past was standing before me once again.
With the same purpose as before.
*…Goddammit.*