Gaining Strength Is Never Easy

Getting stronger was never going to be easy.

After Rayna Garo'en, who was no longer a knight of the Grand Duke's household, left the study.

Rodrik sent Leon away as well, then sat alone inside the study.

Scritch. Scritch.

Now the only sound in the study was the nib of a quill scraping across paper.

Rodrik ground his teeth as he wrote, line after line.

The recipient was Karon Hartvalt.

The second son currently fighting on the northern front.

The son Rodrik cherished above all others.

The heir he effectively regarded as the next Grand Duke.

"Damn it, I have no right to call myself a father to him."

Normally, he wouldn't have wanted to send news like this.

There was no need to burden his son, who was fighting monsters on the front lines, with unnecessary worry.

And if the source of that worry was Kyle, all the more so.

"It's because of that damn bastard!"

Rodrik wrote furiously on the page.

That Kyle was still a bastard, but that he was dangerous.

That the former Grand Duke, Balgrim, openly supported him.

And that even Rayna, whom he had originally promised to Karon, had been snatched by that man.

"Karon must not look down on him. If he goes in blind, he could be in real danger…."

Rodrik finished the last line.

The moment he wrote those words, force surged through his fingertips.

Crack.

The quill snapped.

Rodrik stared at the broken nib with a grim expression, then tossed it onto the desk.

"Damn it."

A low curse slipped from his lips.

Sending the letter itself wasn't difficult.

Correspondence between father and son had always flowed regularly.

A father checking in on his son's health and the state of the front—there was nothing unusual about that.

"Still, I'd better send it quickly, just in case."

Rodrik melted wax and sealed the letter, then sent it off immediately to Karon, who was fighting on the front.

***

Click.

The door to Kyle's quarters opened.

Rayna Garo'en, a beautiful woman with a slender build, stepped inside.

She approached Kyle, who sat in a chair, and lowered herself to one knee before him.

Her posture remained impeccable.

She had been a knight of the Hartvalt household mere moments ago.

The genius knight of the Golden Lion Knight Brigade, they had called her.

Now she set down all those titles and bowed her head before Kyle.

"I report in. I have surrendered my post in the Golden Lion Knight Brigade. I have also resigned from my position as a knight affiliated with the Hartvalt household."

Kyle looked down at her from his chair.

"So?"

Rayna did not lift her head.

"I am no longer a knight of the Grand Duke's household."

She paused for a moment, then continued.

"I am a knight who has sworn personal loyalty to Master Kyle Hartvalt. I am no longer the Grand Duke's blade—I am Master Kyle's sword."

Kyle's lips curled upward.

"Then from now on, you're my personal knight."

He rose from his seat and approached Rayna.

Naturally, he placed his hand atop her head.

Rayna's shoulder twitched ever so slightly.

But she did not pull away.

She did not break her bowed posture.

The lord she had chosen for herself.

The only path she had seized to become stronger.

There was no reason to refuse that touch.

Kyle chuckled at her reaction.

"Your form is decent enough."

He withdrew his hand and stood before her again.

"You handled everything today. After that, nobody came forward."

There was a faint trace of contempt in Kyle's voice.

"I thought a few more mid-level knights would charge in. They're apparently quite eager to preserve their skins."

The fact that Rodrik had changed the dueling venue to the sealed training arena.

The fact that Rayna had sworn loyalty to Kyle immediately after losing to him.

The terror the knights had witnessed in the earlier duels.

All of it had frozen the knight brigade solid.

Kyle could easily guess their true feelings.

"Just like knights in those romance fantasies."

They spoke of honor with pride.

They carried themselves with such lofty dignity when drawing their swords.

But when faced with the very real possibility of looking pathetic, of falling in humiliating defeat, they stepped back.

And so they hesitated all the more in Kyle's presence.

Kyle clicked his tongue at that fact.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll need to raise the bar a bit. If I keep waiting like this, it doesn't look like any truly worth fighting will show up."

"Changing the standard…."

"Whether it's changing how challenges are issued, swapping out opponents, or reshuffling the board entirely—I mean we need to set things up differently."

Kyle spoke lazily.

"Beating a few more mid-level knights won't do much for my growth."

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

Kyle's gaze turned to Rayna.

"Right now, it's your turn."

Rayna lifted her head.

"Are you going to correct my swordsmanship, sir?"

"That too, I suppose. But the first thing that needs tending isn't swordplay."

Kyle looked her over as if appraising her body.

"I'm going to change your aura."

Rayna's pupils trembled.

Aura.

For a knight, it was not merely a measure of strength.

It was proof of training, the foundation of a life lived with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a sword in hand.

The central pillar binding body and mind into one.

She had not known it could be changed.

But Rayna asked calmly, as if the question were trivial.

"What must I do?"

"First, sit on the floor."

"May I remain kneeling?"

Kyle regarded her for a moment.

In the martial world of his past life, he would have told her to assume full lotus position.

Good for circulating inner energy.

Good for centering the body.

There had been plenty of such explanations.

But Kyle placed little weight on such formalities.

What mattered was not posture.

"The only thing that matters is whether you can accept it and whether you can endure it."

That was all.

"Do whatever's comfortable."

Kyle said.

"The important thing is that you withstand the pain. Posture is a secondary concern."

"I understand."

Rayna adjusted her kneeling posture slightly, placing both hands on her knees and straightening her back.

Kyle stood before her.

Blood Mist Spiritual Transformation Heart Method.

That was the name of the martial art he would plant in Rayna.

It was not a cultivation method freely granted to anyone, even within the Blood Cult.

A technique given only to those with the talent worthy of being ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nurtured to elder status.

If mastered, it could grant the power to face thousands of warriors alone.

But it was that much more dangerous.

The Blood Mist Spiritual Transformation Heart Method was not merely a technique for accumulating energy.

It devoured even the aura already present within the body.

It chewed it, dissolved it, corrupted it, and remade it as part of itself.

Rayna had already been accumulating aura of this world.

Under normal circumstances, the moment energy from a different system was introduced, a clash would occur.

If done carelessly, the dantian could rupture, blood vessels could burst, and the body could be destroyed from within.

But the Blood Mist Spiritual Transformation Heart Method was different.

It did not clash.

True to its status as a superior technique of the Blood Cult, it devoured instead.

It gnawed on Rayna's blue aura from the inside, then corrupted it into Blood Cult-style blood energy.

What Kyle sought was precisely that process.

"Let me say something before we begin."

Kyle's voice dropped low.

"You're going to hurt a lot from here on out."

Rayna did not answer.

Instead, her gaze made clear that she was listening.

Kyle continued.

"The pain will be nothing like being cut by a blade. Nothing like a bone breaking. It will feel as though the energy inside your body is being turned inside out, your veins are being scraped raw from the inside, and your dantian is being torn apart and gnawed on while still whole."

Rayna's fingertips stiffened, just slightly.

"It will feel like you're dying. You might even genuinely believe you are. I thought the same thing the first time."

Kyle offered not a shred of comfort.

"Endure it. If you give up, it's simply over."

A faint bloody glow flickered across his green eyes.

"If you can't survive this, then you were only ever capable of that much."

It was a cold remark.

But Rayna did not flinch from it.

In her mind, Rodrik's words surfaced.

Deception and compensation.

Then Leon's slimy gaze followed.

The eyes that had scanned her body first.

The moments she had been pushed aside kept flashing through her mind.

She had already finished steeling herself.

Rayna slowly drew a breath.

"I can endure it."

The answer was short.

But there was no wavering in it.

Kyle smiled with satisfaction.

"Good."

A faint crimson energy gathered at the tip of his fingers.

It did not blaze like a flame.

It did not disperse like mist.

It condensed on his fingertips like a small, dense drop of blood—thick and pulsing.

The seed of the Blood Mist Spiritual Transformation Heart Method.

If he poured the completed power directly into Rayna, her body would not withstand it.

So for now, he planted only the seed.

Small, but certain.

Allowing it to devour her aura and send roots into her on its own.

Kyle's hand touched the area near Rayna's heart.

"Don't resist."

"Yes."

Rayna closed her eyes.

Even as Kyle's hand pressed against her chest, she offered no resistance.

The next instant.

The crimson seed seeped into her body.

At first, it felt like a single needle slipping beneath the skin.

Cold and sharp, but not unbearable.

But that sensation did not last.

The seed moved.

It latched onto the blood flow near her heart first.

Then it traveled down through her veins.

It bit into the roots of aura concentrated near her dantian.

"…!"

Rayna's eyes snapped open.

This was not the pain she had imagined.

This was not pain coming from outside.

It was the sensation of her body tearing apart from within.

Her veins reversed.

It felt as though a hook had been driven into the inside of her heart.

The blue aura nested deep in her dantian screamed like a living creature and was devoured.

Her lips parted to scream.

In the very instant the shriek was about to burst free—

Thwack.

Kyle's fingers pressed down on the blood vessel beneath her neck.

Rayna's jaw locked.

The scream that had surged up to her throat was sealed shut from within.

"Hnn…!"

Only a strangled groan seeped from her nose.

Kyle looked down at her.

"Don't spit it out."

Rayna's pupils trembled.

"Swallow it from inside."

The moment those words fell, the pain surged again—sharper than before.

Rayna gripped the hem of her skirt with both hands, her fingers white-knuckled.

"Kk— nngh…!"

She swallowed her suppressed groans and trembled like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quaking birch.

Sweat poured from her forehead like rain.

Tears of pain streamed from the corners of her eyes.

Her face, drained of color, twisted with agony.

Yet even in that pain—pain so intense she wanted to thrash on the floor immediately—

she did not break her kneeling posture.

As though that posture was the last shred of pride she had left.

Kyle observed her dispassionately.

"Gaining strength is never easy."

The Blood Cult.

It was not a gathering of talented prodigies or pampered geniuses with full bellies and warm backs.

Only those who had nothing left to lose in this world.

Those who crawled from the bottom of despair, spitting blood, were the ones who survived its crucible.

That was why when the Blood Cult took in martial artists, the first thing it looked at was never innate physique or talent.

Only desperation.

The reason was simple—the Blood Cult's techniques were agonizingly difficult to master.

Only the desperate could endure them.

"And she's proving it."

Kyle had chosen Rayna because he saw her desperation.

Not merely her talent, but the resolve of a human being driven to the brink by the Blood Cult Leader's circumstances.

And right now, Rayna stood at the first gate.

Hissssss—

Rayna's aura trembled within her.

The clear, firm energy was being consumed by the crimson seed, slowly changing its form.

The aura was not disappearing.

Through the gaps in the blue energy, dense blood energy seeped in.

No— the aura itself was transforming into blood energy.

Rayna felt the change.

The power she had believed in her entire life was changing.

And it kept delivering that terrible pain.

"I will endure this. No matter what."

Rayna clenched her teeth.

"I refuse to end like this."

"I will become stronger. I will absolutely become stronger!"

A bloody glow ignited in her eyes—the same determination blazing in her gaze.

Inside Rayna, the blue aura shook.

The clear, steadfast energy was being consumed by the crimson seed, its form changing.

It was not disappearing.

Dense blood energy seeped through the blue aura like ink through water.

No—the aura itself was converting into blood energy.

Rayna felt the change.

The power she had believed in her entire life was changing.

And it kept delivering that terrible pain.

"I will endure this. No matter what."

Rayna clenched her teeth.

"I refuse to end like this."

"I will become stronger. I will absolutely become stronger!"

A bloody glow ignited in her eyes—the same determination blazing in her gaze.