Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Reincarnator's User Manual
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Passed out again.
"Ah."
The moment consciousness flooded back, Shiron’s eyes snapped wide open and he shot upright like a coiled spring.
Even after blacking out from a brutal punch to the face, his body felt remarkably refreshed.
He touched his lips tentatively to check for damage, but he found not a single scratch or bruise on his skin.
He couldn't tell if his recovery was due to the length of his unconsciousness or the freakishly high performance of this possessed body, but at this moment, it didn't matter.
"Damn."
A glance out the window revealed that dawn was already breaking in full swing.
The sun began to peek over the snow-covered mountains, its light causing thick, heavy clouds to part like the miracle of Moses.
For the first time, Shiron truly understood why this desolate place was called Dawn Castle.
But such poetic sentiments were fleeting.
"Fuck."
A sharp curse slipped from his lips as the reality of his situation settled in.
'Got hit and passed out again.'
Waking up in the exact same spot and position after fainting felt like a sickening sense of déjà vu.
'How the hell do I keep coming to in the exact same place and time?'
It wasn't as if he had died and respawned, yet the repetition was unsettling.
Shiron chuckled dryly and opened the drawer by his bed, picking up an expensive pen and pulling out a hidden sheet of paper.
"Gotta bump up the risk level a notch."
Lucia was more dangerous than he had initially anticipated.
To think she would swing at him with such violence just because of a little prank was completely unexpected.
'Who knew she'd flip out that badly over a single snowball down her shirt?'
If asked why he had done it, he would only have grievances to vent in his own defense.
Part of it was to let her experience the cheat-level training method he knew, but he also thought she looked pitiful when she shrunk back after his teasing.
He had figured a mood-changer was in order; it had been his own twisted way of being considerate.
Shiron rubbed the nape of his neck and let out a deep, weary sigh.
'With her being so violent, how rough must the original, sensitive Shiron have had it?'
'They must have bickered like they wanted to devour each other from the very start. Plan change.'
Shiron tore up the paper crammed with his scribbled notes, shredding it into tiny bits before tossing them into the stove.
The game had never shown their childhood, so there was no way to know why the original Shiron eventually blocked Lucia's path despite knowing it would lead to his death.
He had always guessed it was a mixture of inferiority toward her talent and the pressure that drove him mad with hatred.
Putting his thoughts in order stirred a strange sense of pity, as he saw his own struggle overlapping with the tragic fate of Shiron Prien.
'Poor Shiron. Surviving scraps with a monster like that from childhood? Truly impressive.'
He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, deciding to overhaul his initial strategy entirely.
'I'll make sure to milk your death for all it's worth.'
Scritch— scritch—
Elements began to fill the yellowed sheet: current locations, upcoming areas, items worth grabbing, and things to avoid.
He recorded secrets that would make academy scholars faint in shock, claiming the world's mysteries had been solved.
'And finally...'
[Getting close to little sister: on hold.]
Shiron pressed a firm period at the end of the sentence.
He had plotted to butter her up from childhood to use her, but he realized now that it wouldn't be that easy.
He tidied his writing tools and lay back, staring up at the ceiling.
A thought struck him: if it were the original Shiron, he’d probably charge out and challenge Lucia to a duel on the spot.
The image was almost amusing, but then he caught himself.
"...No."
On second thought, it wasn't amusing at all; a chill ran down his spine as his hairs stood on end.
'I can't take death lightly in this world.'
Shiron massaged his temples, reflecting on what he had confirmed in just two days.
Most importantly, he knew the game system's core mechanics of adaptability and proficiency were active.
It was a simple but powerful concept: taking damage from the cold would eventually grant frost resistance.
Similarly, using weapons or tools would build proficiency in those specific categories.
It would serve as his ultimate safety net against the threats he knew were coming.
"At minimum, there will be no more getting punched out cold."
Shiron clenched his fist, knowing that the foundation for his future began at this very moment.
Crunch—crunch—crunch—
Fresh footprints layered the pristine snowfield; it must have snowed heavily while he slept.
The snow piling in his boots made every step of his run feel like a brutal struggle.
Huff— huff—
Shiron spat out plumes of white breath as his lungs burned, feeling as though he might collapse at any second.
"Young Master, hang in there! This is the last lap!"
Despite the intense pain, Shiron refused to quit, knowing that giving up now would tank his training efficiency.
Splat—
Finally completing the lap, Shiron face-planted into the snow, uncaring that his clothes were becoming soaked.
He barely managed to flip his heavy body over and open his mouth to speak.
"Huff... haaah... Encia. How many... minutes?"
He spat the words at the maid who stood nearby holding an hourglass.
He had asked Yuma for a training assistant, and she had assigned him this lively girl.
The maid, with her golden hair tied in twin tails tipped with red, began counting the hourglasses.
"One, two... five and a half. So that's... 27 minutes and 30 seconds."
"Is it that accurate? Just round it to 28."
Shiron clumsily undid his heavy protective gear with trembling hands, letting the gauntlets and greaves clank onto the ground.
"That's not fair, Young Master! I measured so carefully..."
Encia pouted, but she wrote "28" on the paper as he had instructed.
Ten laps in twenty-eight minutes—a new record for Shiron while wearing heavy weights.
"By the way... are there no wind-up clocks in this place? I hate how imprecise this is."
"Young Master, come on. What clockmaker would be out here in the frontier?"
"Besides, the cold messes with timepieces. They're just useless lumps in this weather."
"I see."
"Yup. Hourglasses and sundials are the least likely to be off."
He nodded, though he remained inwardly dissatisfied with the lack of precision.
In a world with magic, trains, and airships in the capital, it seemed ridiculous that they couldn't measure time accurately here.
After catching his breath, Shiron scooped up a handful of snow and popped it into his mouth.
It no longer felt cold to him—it was just refreshing, like ice water.
The faster-than-expected results of his frost resistance training brought a small grin to his face.
"Young Master!"
Encia placed her hands on her hips, scolding him, but Shiron only replied half-heartedly.
"What?"
"If you're thirsty, you should drink the lemonade I prepared for you!"
It was a fair point, so Shiron swallowed the last of the snow and stared blankly at her.
"...I'm not thirsty. I have my reasons."
"Would you mind sharing them?"
"It's none of your business. Now, help me up."
Encia took his hand and pulled him to his feet, diligently brushing the snow from his clothes.
"Young Master, you'll get a stomachache, and then the Head Maid will chew me out."
Her downcast tone drew a weary sigh and a glare from Shiron.
"I won't. And if I do, I'll make sure things are smoothed over with Yuma."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. Now fetch me a spear."
Shiron downed a cup of her lemonade, the tart sweetness spreading through him and melting away his fatigue.
'So that's how the item effect applies.'
Shiron marveled inwardly at the notification that would have appeared in a game.
[Lively Maid's Invigorating Lemonade]
It wasn't an ordinary drink, but a sub-quest item that instantly cleared exhaustion—something quite valuable.
Moments later, Encia returned with a bundled spear before his cup was even empty.
"Good."
Shiron gripped the spear, which was only slightly shorter than his own height.
It was a bit thick for a child to handle, but he could still manage a firm grip.
The lemonade had wiped his fatigue clean, allowing him to roll his shoulders and loosen up.
Hah!
With a sharp shout, he hurled the spear forward.
It thunked into the training ground at the quarter mark—a result that was worse than he had expected.
'Roughly 30 meters? My stamina is there, but my technique is absolute trash.'
"Young Master, I have a rope. Should I measure the distance?"
Encia approached with a knotted rope, her proactive attitude earning her a bit of Shiron's respect.
"Nah. I'll just eyeball it for now."
With his basic stamina training done, Shiron grabbed both a spear and a staff.
He positioned himself where the mansion had a good view of him and began swinging the polearms with all his force.
Encia watched him blankly for a moment before turning away slightly to speak.
"Young Master."
"What?"
Shiron continued to swing relentlessly as he replied, already guessing what she was going to say.
"The Young Lady... she keeps glancing this way."
"I know."
"Did something happen between you two?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Even so..."
Encia pleaded with a worried expression, but Shiron only offered a faint, knowing smirk.