Chapter 4
Episode 4
Not long after leaving my father's office, I spotted a face I wasn't particularly eager to see at the other end of the hallway.
Judging by the other's expression, the feeling was mutual—the moment our eyes met, their face twisted into an undisguised scowl.
Logan let out a small sigh and bowed his head as politely as possible.
"It's been a while, Mother."
At those words, the noblewoman's footsteps faltered.
"...'Mother.' What an awkward way to address me, Grand Prince."
Her cold eyes bore into Logan. The long, straight black hair framing her face only accentuated her scornful demeanor.
Marian Cairos—Logan's stepmother, Ronian's birth mother, and the current matriarch of the MacLaine household.
But she was no mere noblewoman.
The fact that the Cairos family now bore responsibility for over half of the MacLaine household's finances was entirely Marian's doing.
Because of this, she wielded immense influence over the entire MacLaine family.
Moreover, she was the one who had opposed Logan in Ronian's stead, and—if events followed his past life—she would soon become the loudest voice advocating for his exile.
But.
"It's merely a greeting, Mother."
If he could show her a changed attitude from now on, perhaps even this strained relationship could improve.
Holding onto that hope, Logan bowed his head again.
Of course, things wouldn't be resolved overnight.
"Since when did you start acting like this? Are you scheming something pathetic again?"
His stepmother's response remained as icy as ever.
When Logan showed no reaction to her sharp provocation, she scoffed and brushed past him.
Behind her, Vector, her loyal retainer and chief steward, offered Logan the barest nod—without even looking at him.
Even he couldn't outright ignore the household's Grand Prince, so he maintained the bare minimum of courtesy.
'It's all my fault.'
This was nothing more than the natural consequence of his own past failures.
Logan watched his stepmother's retreating figure with bitter eyes before turning away with another quiet sigh.
The Grand Prince lost to the Young Prince in a spar.
The rumor spread through MacLaine Castle in an instant.
In any noble or martial household, this would have been major gossip—but in the MacLaine family, it carried even greater weight.
The MacLaine family had once been on the verge of losing their lands and titles due to the atrocities committed by their ancestors four generations prior and the incompetence of successive lords.
It was only when the current head, Patrick MacLaine, became a High Knight that they barely managed to cling to survival.
Naturally, people paid close attention to the martial prowess of his successors.
And the fact that the Young Prince was only fourteen added fuel to the rumors.
From whispers of Ronian's genius to outright claims of Logan's incompetence—the scandal spread faster than seemed possible.
But the man at the center of it all paid no mind, too busy packing his belongings in his room.
If anything, the fact that his attendant was more agitated than he was proved far more distracting.
"Ahhh! My prince, what are we going to do?!"
"Stop fussing. Ronian is a prodigy—that much is true."
"The problem isn't the Young Prince, it's that you're being called a fool by everyone—Hrk! I-I didn't say anything! My mouth just slipped...!"
Pfft.
A laugh escaped Logan before he could stop it.
"Don't worry about it. If you waste energy on every little rumor, you'll neglect what really matters."
"And closed-door training is what really matters?"
"Yes."
"...Even though it'll just look like you're running away."
Rick couldn't resist adding one last jab.
'Right. This was how he always was.'
Rick, his loyal attendant since childhood, was annoyingly talkative and meddlesome.
Of course, most of it came from a place of concern.
The broken Logan of his past life had ignored every single one of those worries.
Now, though he still had no intention of heeding Rick's words, it was for entirely different reasons...
'Sigh. I owe this guy a lot too.'
Logan exhaled, set down the belongings he'd been packing, and clapped Rick on the shoulder.
"I'm not running. Just trust me. I'll pave a golden path for us from now on."
In his past life, Logan had ordered Rick to slip hallucinogens into Ronian's meals before their next official spar—and later, even paralytic poison.
As a result, Logan was stripped of his heir status and placed under what amounted to house arrest.
But while Logan got off with a slap on the wrist, Rick—having poisoned a direct descendant of the family—was executed.
Even the ruined Logan of that life had lost sleep over it.
It was a blessing to have returned before committing those unforgivable sins.
Would it have been better to return even earlier? Perhaps—but just being back at all was more than enough.
'All I have to do is avoid repeating those stupid mistakes. Still...'
Despite his words, Rick had always been unfailingly loyal.
He wanted to make sure this guy, at least, was properly taken care of.
The debts in his heart weren't just to his brother or father.
However—
"...Did you eat something weird?"
"Ahem."
Right. This guy really had a talent for ruining the moment...
"I won't ask you to do anything reckless from now on. And I'll do my best to look after you."
"...No idea what you're talking about, but if it's good for me, then sure?"
"...Yeah."
It was impossible to stay serious around him.
"You do seem different lately, so that's a relief."
Still, the way Rick grinned and teased him to his face only confirmed that he was one of the few people Logan could truly trust.
"Now hurry up and pack!"
"I've been packing, you—!"
Watching Rick grumble as he moved, Logan chuckled and wiped his brow.
Despite the bright sunlight streaming through the window, the future of this territory remained shrouded in darkness.
No matter how the rumors spread or who schemed against him, none of it mattered—not yet.
'Once I return and prove my strength, the rumors will change. And in a year, all focus will shift to the Territorial War.'
Only after surviving that disaster would he have the luxury to consider the future.
'Three months... I can do this. No—Ihaveto.'
Logan's crimson eyes burned as he gazed toward the Ancestral Mountain within the Inner City.
"But why train in the Ancestral Mountain, of all places?"
"I need somewhere no one will disturb me—and with enough space."
As Logan had explained to Rick before leaving, the Ancestral Mountain met all his requirements.
Access was restricted to MacLaine's direct lineage, and its broad, shallow slopes made it perfect for training—far better than any practice grounds.
'If things go as I hope, this is something I absolutely can't let anyone see yet.'
After paying respects to the ancestral tablets in the hermitage and unpacking, Logan climbed the mountain, his heart pounding with equal parts anxiety and anticipation.
'I can do this. Ican.'*
Encouraging himself, Logan recalled the contents of the secret manual he had reviewed one last time before ascending.
The Divine Sword's Secret Art.
It began not with swordplay, but with forming a core of Force energy in the heart—imbued with a specific directional alignment.
The Force emitted from this core would suffuse his blood and flesh, reshaping his very body.
But condensing intangible Force energy into a tangible, unified core was already an impossible feat for ordinary talent.
The Logan of his past life would have given up at this first step.
'But now, it's entirely possible.'
Because—
Huum.
The Force within him responded instantly—thicker, stronger, and denser than anything he remembered from his past life.
Since his regression, his Force had undergone a fundamental, qualitative evolution.
'This will work.'
The transcendent quality of his Force filled him with confidence.
True to his expectations, the evolved Force gathered in his heart with startling ease, aligning into the patterns described in the manual.
Once concentrated, it coalesced into a core almost effortlessly—as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Huuuum.
'Already?!'
The manual claimed that even the most talented individuals needed three days and nights of effort—yet Logan had succeeded as easily as if it were a lie.
The speed of his progress left even him stunned.
"How is this... Huh?"
Huuuuum.
The moment the core formed in his heart, an even denser surge of energy erupted, spreading through his entire body.
Before he could even attempt to control it, the energy stimulated every fiber of his being.
Whoooosh.
Was this how drought-stricken fields felt when finally drenched by rain?
For a moment, Logan forgot everything else, lost in the electrifying rush of transformation.
He didn't even notice his body radiating golden light, casting brilliance in all directions.
"...Huh?"
He had begun his training at dawn—yet somehow, the sun was already setting.
The moment he registered the disorienting passage of time, the exhilarating sensation vanished without a trace, leaving his body drained.
Before he knew it, Logan collapsed to his knees.
"...Hah?"
But that lasted only a moment.
Crack.
The overwhelming power in his clenched fist and the vitality coursing through his veins told him—no, shouted at him—that his body had crossed into an entirely new realm.
"This is... far beyond what I expected."
The changes exceeded even the manual's descriptions—but they were undeniably positive.
There was no reason to complain about becoming stronger than anticipated.
Moreover—
'If the manual's claims are true...'
Swooosh!
A grin spread across Logan's face as he swung his sword experimentally.
The sensation, the sheer force behind even a casual swing—it was incomparable to before.
'Yes!'
His fists clenched instinctively.
A single motion was all it took to confirm.
This wasn't just an increase in strength. His very physique and senses had transformed.
Everything had shifted to optimize his swordsmanship.
'They call it the 'Body-Refining Art'—because it remakes the practitioner. And it'sreal.'*
He could say it with certainty now.
The talentless fool drowning in inferiority and self-loathing was gone.
"Hahahaha!"
This was the moment every shred of insecurity that had plagued his past life shattered.
From that day onward, Logan swung his sword with near-fanatical fervor, barely remembering to eat or sleep.
Three months later.
'This time... Iwillsucceed.'
Following the manual's instructions, Logan compressed the core in his heart, amplifying its energy.
Forming the core and reshaping his physique were already monumental achievements—but they were merely the foundation of the Divine Sword's Secret Art.
The true essence lay in the ten sword forms, grandiosely named "The Sword That Cuts Time and Space—the Space-Time Slash."
And what Logan attempted now was the first and only form achievable with a single-star core—the Wave-Cutting Slash.
'...Iwillsucceed!'
Even with his transformed body and senses, mastering this technique had taken three months of repeated failure.
But each failure had honed his intuition.
'Now!'
The instant his amplified energy surged through his body, golden light erupted from his crimson eyes.
"Haa!"
As Logan's sword flashed like lightning, golden waves of Force rippled forth in rapid succession.
KABOOOM!
A tree thicker than a man's torso shattered into splinters under the twin golden waves, the explosion echoing through the mountains.
Thud.
"Hah... Hah... Heh... Hehehe..."
Pale-faced and kneeling, Logan couldn't hide his astonishment at what he'd just accomplished.
The power exceeded his expectations.
The range was barely a meter from the blade's edge, and the waves numbered only two—but this was no technique for a newly awakened Force user.
Conventional wisdom held that only High Knights on the verge of becoming Aura Users could manifest Force into tangible strikes.
Even if it left him exhausted after a single use, this was more than enough as a trump card.
"Heh... Hahahahaha!"
Three months of training—and Logan had surpassed even his own goals.