4. I Was Actually a Talent Freak Too
Another month passed.
In the mansion's inner courtyard. Despite the fierce gusts of cold wind, Seria was swinging her sword.
"Hup!"
A sharp whoosh ripped through the air.
I sat on the terrace, chin propped in my hand, watching the scene.
"Looks like you've gotten hooked."
She used to claim she had no interest, that it was a hassle.
For the past week, she'd been training every single day.
How did this happen?
Well, a month ago, I'd casually asked my father.
'Dad, no hidden masters in our territory? Sir Mason says Seria's a sword genius! It'd be great to get her a swordsmanship teacher.'
But the answer was just as I'd expected.
Our house was poor. No money to hire a skilled knight.
So as a next-best option, Father had set up a training dummy in the courtyard, along with wooden swords and basic fitness equipment.
"Hmm, still, having a teacher makes a huge difference."
Don't nine out of ten end up just flailing around aimlessly~?
But then.
Thwack!
With a brutal thud, the dummy's head flew into the air.
Not even a real sword—a wooden one without an edge.
On a training dummy stuffed tight with straw.
In one clean stroke.
"......Ouch."
At seven years old? Is that even possible?
Seria, looking utterly satisfied as if it were only natural, broke into a smile.
Anyone teach her? Of course not.
She'd just peeked over Captain Mason's shoulder while he trained, then swung away on her own nonstop.
"At this rate, no need to worry about her......?"
No, worry? This was downright terrifying.
In ten years, she might actually become a real Sword Master.
Then it hit me.
Seria's definitely going to grow up into someone amazing and cool, right?
When that time comes, does she really need to stay by my side?
In novels or comics, the badass knight swears "eternal loyalty to my lord!" and sticks around the protagonist.
But this world was now my reality.
Reality doesn't flow as romantically as in stories.
Better offers, a wider world, superior environments, stronger people.
As Seria grows, she could get scouted by the imperial palace or a great noble house.
Asking her to stay in this backwater fief out of old sentiment then? That'd just be selfishness.
I'm just the lucky son of a baron, at best.
Even with memories from my past life, strip away the "baron's son" title, and I'm a total nobody.
No special combat prowess, no world-shaking strategies.
Just knows a tiny bit more than average?
Staying by my side would be a waste of her talent.
Bitter, but what can you do? That's reality.
Still, deep down, I wanted Seria to stay.
She was my first friend—practically family.
If only I had something going for me too.
A world of swords and magic. If Seria's the sword, maybe I'll try magic?
With that thought, I stood and headed to the mansion's library.
Our family library was stuffed with dusty old tomes.
"Let's see, it should be around here."
I climbed the ladder and pulled out a worn book shoved in the corner.
Understanding Mana and Basic Principles
A book I'd skimmed out of boredom before.
Back then, I'd slammed it shut like What the hell is this?
But now was different. Just maybe.
Could this actually work?
I sat cross-legged and opened it.
The book explained how magic worked.
[Mana exists everywhere in the atmosphere. Mages draw in this natural mana through breathing, accumulate it in mana circles near their heart, and manifest it into reality through imagination.]
The theory sounded plausible. Straight out of a fantasy novel.
"Okay, theory's fine. Now practice."
I closed my eyes and began breathing as instructed.
Inhale... exhale.
Slow and deep. Empty my lungs completely, imagine inhaling the invisible particles floating in the air.
Feel it, feel it...
First ten minutes? Nothing. Just like holding my breath.
But I kept focusing, refusing to quit.
Picture my body as an empty vessel, blue glowing dust from the air pouring in.
How much time passed?
Huh?
A tickle in my chest.
Like the fizz from soda—tiny prickles.
It warmed into heat, spreading through my veins.
Is this... mana?
It actually worked?
Hairs standing on end. Even with eyes closed, I could sense the air currents around me.
Dust on the desk, breeze through the window cracks, energy gathering at my fingertips.
Bewildered, I cautiously opened my eyes.
Otaku-style, I thrust my hand toward the stack of books and shouted.
"Winds, obey!"
Probably didn't need to yell, but it felt right.
Of course, I vividly imagined a massive gust per the book.
Then.
Vrrr.
Vibration in my palm.
And.
BOOM!
"Gah!"
A shockwave erupted from my fingertips, slamming the bookshelf.
Dozens of books exploded outward like fireworks; the heavy oak desk screeched as it slid back.
The library turned into chaos in seconds.
"Cough, cough!"
I stared blankly at my hand amid the dust cloud.
Fingertips tingling.
......Holy shit. It worked?
And way too well?
Power control's off, sure, but the output was insane.
Was I actually a talent freak too?
Then.
Thumping footsteps from the hall.
"Son!! What happened!! Huh?!"
The library door flew open; Father rushed in.
He gaped at the wreckage.
"Wh-what is this...? Did thieves break in!?"
"D-Dad, it's not... um..."
I hid my hands behind my back, shrinking.
Gonna get yelled at. Ruined all those precious books.
But Father's eyes locked not on the scattered books, but the blue aura shimmering around me like heat haze.
"Kalian, you... just used magic?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Tried copying the book, and it just went off... Sorry."
I bowed my head.
But contrary to expectations, no scolding came.
"My goodness..."
Father muttered in a trembling voice.
He strode over and grabbed my shoulders firmly.
"My son, a mage!!! I knew it, son!! I believed in you!!"
"Eek!"
He hoisted me up like an airplane.
World spinning.
"Hahaha! See that! Our family finally has a mage! And sensing mana at five! Son, are you really just a little five-year-old?!"
"D-Dad! Dizzy! Gonna puke!"
"Even across the entire empire, mages are rare! Just having mana sensitivity is amazing, but manifesting it through self-study! That's my boy!"
Ignoring me completely, Father dashed around yelling "Genius! Genius!"
Well, as long as he's happy.
Phew, dodged a lecture.
And hey, even if Seria becomes a Sword Master later, I won't be outshone.
Might even go down as a magic-sword duo legend.
Anyway.
Magic's freaking awesome.
After the commotion died down.
Father ran off shouting "A blessing on our house!" to spread the news far and wide.
I rubbed my sore shoulders and left the library.
"Whew, my dad's such a softie."
I shrugged and headed back to the courtyard.
The sun was dipping low. Sky turning red, but Seria was still practicing swordplay.
"Hoo, hup!"
Stubborn girl. She'd keep going till I called her for dinner.
Thirsty, probably.
I eyed the water pitcher and cup on the bench.
Prankster mood struck.
Wanted to test that fresh mana sensation again.
Time for some real practice.
I steadied my breath, focused.
Image mana gathering at fingertips. Invisible hand gripping the pitcher, pouring into the cup.
Glug glug.
Success. Pitcher floated, filling the cup.
Carefully—very carefully—I levitated the sloshing cup.
Go, water cup.
It ghosted silently behind Seria.
Perfect timing—she'd lowered her wooden sword to catch her breath.
"Hoo... thirsty."
She fanned herself, muttering.
I shoved the cup right in her face.
"Seria, water!"
"Ah, thank you, Young Master."
She took it naturally.
Too exhausted to notice where I was.
She gulped it down refreshingly.
"Ahh. Feels alive again."
Cutely wiping her mouth with her hand.
Then turned to return the empty cup—and.
"......?"
No one there.
Obviously. I'd hidden behind a terrace pillar far off.
Seria's gaze wandered the air.
Someone handed her the cup. But no one.
And it had been floating.
Silence.
1 second. 2. 3.
Her face paled, pupils quaking.
"Eek... eek...!"
And.
"KyaAAAAH!!"
First time I'd heard her scream like that.
"Gh-ghost!! Young Master!! It's a ghost!!"
She flung the wooden sword and bolted to me.
Where'd that dummy-head-chopping ferocity go?
She hid behind me, clutching my clothes, trembling.
"Th-that! The cup! The cup's flying by itself! Waaah! Scary!!"
Tears welling up.
I clutched my sides, barely holding back laughter.
"Pfft, heh, hehehe."
"Y-Young Master! Not the time to laugh!! This house has a resident ghost!"
"Ow, my stomach. Seria, calm down."
I patted her hand gripping my clothes, giggling.
"Not a ghost. Magic. Magic."
"......Huh?"
She froze mid-wipe.
"Ma... magic?"
"Yeah. Me."
I wiggled my fingers again.
The empty cup on the ground floated up.
"Whoa..."
Seria's jaw dropped.
She stared mesmerized, then at me.
"Young Master... you can use magic too?"
"Yup. Pretty badass, right?"
I shrugged smugly.
Seria blanked out a moment, then sighed in relief.
"Phew... good. Thought my heart was gonna jump out."
"Scaredy-cat. How you gonna hunt monsters as a knight?"
"Monsters die to swords. Ghosts don't!"
She huffed poutily.
Logical?
"Anyway, impressive, Young Master. You watch swordplay well and do magic."
"Eh, this much is nothing."
Hmm, mild reaction, but fine.
She'd always been in "Young Master's the best!" mode.
And that night.
Her knocking on my door—"Accompany me to the bathroom..."—stays our little secret.