Chapter 10: Me and My Family
Chapter 10: Me and My Family
The training ground was empty; the other candidates had already departed. I stood facing my instructor, Priya.
“How will the training proceed?”
“How else? I’m just going to teach you.”
Priya dropped the formalities immediately. Her voice was low and calm, yet carried a lingering note of boredom, as if everything were a chore. Still, she had been handpicked by Zebestian and vetted by Engie. There was no reason to doubt her skill.
“First, a test. I need to see how much you actually know about the sword.”
She reached down and picked up a fallen branch from the corner of the training ground.
“I’ll use this. You try to cut me down with your sword.”
“……Understood.”
I gripped my training blade—a live steel sword—and took my stance, aiming at Priya. She stood there carelessly, yet I couldn't sense a single opening.
I took a step forward.
Whack!
The moment I lunged, her branch whipped across my wrist with unerring precision. The stinging pain nearly made me drop the sword.
“Too honest. Try being a bit more cunning.”
“…….”
I gripped the sword again. I feinted a frontal assault, followed by a double feint as if diving to the right, then aimed for her lower—
Whack!
The result was the same. This time, it was my shoulder. The joint where the branch struck burned as if seared by fire.
“Again.”
“……Yes.”
This time, I charged while staying low. I closed the distance as much as possible and thrust my sword. Priya swung the branch in a straight line.
BOOM!
A shockwave erupted, sounding as if the air itself had exploded. This wasn't the stopping power of a mere branch. My body was sent flying as if I’d been blasted by a shotgun.
Thud.
I sprawled onto the ground.
“…….”
“Again. Get up.”
The process repeated itself.
Whack!
A blow to my ribs. The dull impact knocked the wind out of me.
Whack!
A strike to the forehead. My vision spun for a moment.
Whack!
A hit to the chest. A mark formed on my collarbone.
“You alright?”
“…….”
Heat began to rise within me. I was being toyed with. To make matters worse, Priya was still standing in the exact same spot. She hadn't moved a single inch.
Irritation flared. A sense of futility washed over me. But my frustration wasn't directed at Priya. I could no longer be the piece of trash who blamed others. My inadequacies were my fault alone.
“Draw out your mana. You won't be able to handle this with just your physical body.”
I gritted my teeth.
Mana.
Right, mana.
I needed mana.
I closed my eyes and focused my consciousness inward.
I sensed and controlled the faint vibration of particles flowing through my veins—minute currents of energy. I circulated the mana throughout my entire body.
In that moment, a path suddenly opened.
A new passage was carved into my circuits.
A stream of mana surged forward, reaching a specific point within me. Its destination was the ‘Virus.’ The mana core that had returned with me through time.
Two different types of mana coalesced there. Black and blue swirled together, merging into a single hue.
—Tick.
The thing resonated with me.
The sound of a ticking second hand echoed through my soul.
Simultaneously, the world slowed down.
I lunged instantly.
A sudden burst of Super Acceleration. I kicked off the ground and appeared right in front of Priya’s nose. Just as I had cut down Izenheim, I swung my sword at the branch.
Slice.
The branch was severed cleanly, but her eyes moved.
Her pupils ‘followed’ my speed.
In that moment, I felt a strange sense of exhilaration.
This woman is the real deal.
Tick.
The world snapped back to its original speed. The acceleration had been far too brief.
Crash!
Unable to control my momentum, I slammed straight into the wall. Priya stared at the severed end of her branch with a look of surprise.
“……Oh my?”
* * *
“The sword is a brush, and you are the painter. You are drawing a picture in the air with your blade.”
I stood facing my master in the training ground. The real lesson was beginning now. After I had managed to cut her branch, Priya had become a bit more serious.
“How do you paint a landscape or a still life?”
“I haven’t really—”
“Do you just imagine it? No. Usually, you look at the subject and paint what you see. Swordsmanship is the same. You look at your opponent and react accordingly. However, if you stop there, you’ll never be more than a mass-produced painter. Do you know why?”
“Be—”
“Because you lack a fixed mental image of your own. Imagery and conviction are the most important things for a swordsman. In fact, they are the most important things for any human being. I assume the imagery for your sword is Ebenholtz?”
“……I have heard there is a Secret Sword passed down through the family.”
My father used that Secret Sword as well.
However, the Secret Sword technique and the Secret Sword itself were strictly different. The Secret Sword was a miracle akin to magic, while the Secret Sword technique was, quite literally, the pure skill of the blade—the method of moving the body and deploying the sword.
“Right. From what I can see, you are following the standard Ebenholtz style.”
“That is correct.”
It couldn't be helped. Since the only thing I had ever seen, heard, or learned was Ebenholtz, the foundation of my swordsmanship was the Ebenholtz-style longsword technique.
It was a method that didn't suit me. I never even felt like it fit.
Priya had likely seen through that.
“Ebenholtz uses the longsword. It’s a style made possible because your bloodline is naturally sturdy. Ebenholtz wields the sword as if truly painting, but that requires immense physical strength and a powerful physique.”
“……Yes. I know. I know it doesn't suit me.”
It was time for me to let go of Ebenholtz. I was ready to walk my own path.
“I want to break away from the Ebenholtz sword. That is why I hired you.”
Priya furrowed her brows.
“Idiot.”
“……What?”
She looked at me as if I were pathetic.
“From where I’m standing, you were born with a body more suited for the Ebenholtz sword than any of your ancestors. You’re even a better fit than your father.”
“What?”
“Zebestian doesn't use a longsword, does he?”
Zebestian did not use a longsword. The standard for Ebenholtz-style longsword techniques was a length of 1.6 meters. However, he held a straight sword barely a meter long. Everything else about him was Ebenholtz, but at the very least, he didn't follow the standard.
“Listen well, kid. To me, you are the purest form of Ebenholtz. Perhaps you are the Ebenholtz who will remain until the very end.”
The Ebenholtz who will remain until the very end. Those words sent a chill down my spine.
“You can’t run away, and you shouldn't. You are Ebenholtz; where else would you go? Your body proves it, so just walk the path the family has paved. Now, listen closely. This is the theoretical instruction.”
Priya held up a finger.
“The archetypes of Imperial swordsmanship are divided into three main currents. Of course, other kingdoms have their own schools, but the roots lie in these three archetypes.”
To be honest, I wasn't particularly interested in the origins or history of swordsmanship.
“First is the current called ‘Leo.’ It is a powerful, linear sword style. It primarily uses greatswords or longswords held with both hands, emphasizing breaking the opponent. Your family, Ebenholtz, has its roots in this Leo.”
Leo. Named after the lion. It was an ancient sword style I had heard of before.
“Second is the movement called ‘Aquila.’ It is fast and sharp like an eagle. It uses light, keen longswords or rapiers, piercing the opponent’s openings with speed and precision. Most fencing styles are based on this Aquila.”
Priya stared at me intently.
“The last is ‘Serpens.’ They are flexible and unpredictable, like snakes. They often use unconventional weapons like dual blades, curved swords, or even whip-swords, so the details vary depending on who’s teaching it.”
Suddenly, a glimmer of mana appeared in her eyes. I felt a sensation as if she were peering through my bones, muscles, and mana flow.
“You were born with the strength of a lion.”
I blinked and asked back.
“Me?”
I was slightly taken aback. I had heard nothing but insults my whole life—that I was weak, talentless, a disgrace to Ebenholtz, a pushover, arrogant yet lacking self-esteem… But her expression was dead serious.
“Look at your body. You were hit dozens of times by the branch I swung, yet there isn't a single bruise. And despite moving that fast, there isn't even a hint of muscle rupture or mana backflow. By my standards, you shouldn't even be standing.”
“…….”
I reflexively checked my body. It was as she said. There were no marks on my wrist, shoulder, or ribs where I had been struck. I didn't even feel stiff, let alone feel any muscle pain.
“Now that you mention it, you’re right.”
I was certainly different compared to before my regression.
But what was the reason?
Simply because I was younger?
Or…
Suddenly, I thought of the thing squirming beneath my heart.
The mana core. The fragment of the ‘Dimension Eater’ that had now become a part of me.
The instructor, Priya, was mistaking an alien mana core for my natural talent.
“Starting today, once a week, I will teach you the sword of Ebenholtz.”
She was a strange person. Someone who wasn't an Ebenholtz was trying to teach the Ebenholtz sword to the direct heir of the family.
Then again, considering Zebestian went out of his way to choose her, she might be from a branch of the family.
“Now, next is—”
Beep-beep-beep— Beep-beep-beep—
An alarm went off from a bag in the corner of the training ground. It was a timer Priya had set.
“Three hours are up. Class is over for today. Good work.”
She dusted off her hands and leaped away. Like a cat, she cleared the wall and vanished.
“……Wait.”
Left alone in the training ground, I was speechless.
* * *
In a dimly lit, sophisticated whiskey bar, Priya sat deep in thought before a glass of expensive liquor. The moments from earlier flickered before her eyes like afterimages.
The young knight who had lunged at her.
The boy who had crossed five or six paces in an instant, daring to breach her personal space.
That little Ebenholtz, with his golden hair and eyes, was like a bolt of lightning. It was a movement that defied common sense, as if he were reversing time.
“Hmm~”
Priya sat on the creaking stool, staring blankly at her whiskey glass.
“Was it Super Acceleration?”
There were many things about Maximilian’s sudden burst of speed that couldn't be explained. First, it was impossible to achieve such speed through pure physical strength alone. Human muscles and bones couldn't withstand that kind of velocity. Therefore, sophisticated mana control to act as a buffer was essential. One would have to wrap muscle fibers in mana, protect the joints, and absorb the recoil of the movement to make it possible.
Yet, Maximilian hadn't used any such measures.
Then, what exactly was that bizarre speed?
Was it part of a secret technique passed down through the Ebenholtz family? Or was it an innate physical trait unique to that little Ebenholtz?
Countless hypotheses crossed her mind, but the conclusion was already set.
“He was born with the most refined body in the entire Ebenholtz line.”
He had simply been suppressed by a cowardly personality until now.
She had thought the Ebenholtz lineage had reached its completion with Zebestian, but it seemed there was one more step left.
Priya took a sip of her whiskey.
“Tastes good. This is why I love the capital.”
It didn't matter either way. Maximilian was nothing like the public rumors of him being weak. At the very least, he wasn't ‘weak.’
On the contrary, he harbored a potential so dangerous it was unpredictable, but so what?
As long as she made her money, that was all that mattered.
“Hey, bartender. Give me another glass of the Mexico 33-year.”
She had received a million dollars for a mere three-hour lesson.
Zebestian was certainly a generous bastard.