Smoke and Shattered Bones
Tiny's speed and power far exceeded anything Grant could have imagined. That's why his reaction to the pain came half a beat late.
"Guh!?"
The moment his ankle snapped, he reflexively reached out, but his hand only grazed the empty space above Tiny's head.
Whoosh.
The air exploded with a thunderous crack, proof of the monstrous strength behind that fist—but it struck nothing, dealing no damage to his opponent.
And in that instant, Tiny had already shattered his other ankle as well.
Crack. Crunch.
"Grrraaah!!"
Grant's face flushed beet red with searing pain and even greater humiliation. Instinctively channeling mana to brace his broken ankles, he forced his crumbling stance back upright. The gauntlets shimmering with blue light came crashing down toward Tiny with killing intent, a far cry from his earlier casual promise to go easy.
Boom!!
The stone floor of the training ground cratered under the blow. But Tiny's small body had already slipped between his legs in a flash, clambering up his back.
"Ha!?"
Only then did Grant realize it, his body half-turning—
Whoosh.
Tiny's short limbs were already wrapped around his thick neck.
"Hngh!"
"Don't worry, I won't kill you."
Unlike the low whisper, his legs clamped with crushing force around Grant's windpipe, while his hands wrenched the knight's neck sideways with a vicious twist.
Crunch.
'Oh, no!'
A sharp pain radiated from his neck, and Grant's consciousness began to fade.
Thud.
The knight collapsed, eyes rolled back. The heavy crash of his armored bulk echoed across the entire training ground.
Tap. Tap.
"Knights aren't all that special, huh."
Tiny hopped down lightly from atop his neck and brushed off his hands.
The scene was so utterly unreal that the onlookers' reactions erupted a beat late.
"What..."
"This can't be..."
"Sir Grant..."
"Lost to a kid?"
Stunned exclamations burst out here and there.
Hearing them, Tiny turned toward Cran, who was watching from afar. Seeing the knight captain slowly turning away, pretending to lose interest, brought an involuntary smile to his face.
The spar had started against his will, but it was a step he had to take eventually.
'He probably thought I couldn't match a knight. Low rank, small size.'
He must have suspected other factors—like the pack of wolves—in Tiny's takedown of Wolf's gang.
Tiny would have thought the same.
But by defeating a knight with nothing but bare-handed martial arts—no summoning Wolrang, whose existence was already known through the gang—he proved it was pure skill, right in front of everyone.
Of course, the watching servants had no idea who he was.
With this...
'The lord won't try to dispose of me recklessly.'
Tiny smiled, thinking that.
A thirteen-year-old boy defeating a knight. A tale no one would believe if whispered as rumor—yet it had unfolded before their eyes.
A genius no one with an eye for talent could ignore.
Plant that impression, and...
'He'll want to pull me closer.'
That boosted the odds of his second plan succeeding.
He'd taken the gamble, and it paid off.
Yes, a gamble.
The fight with Grant wasn't the easy win it appeared.
There were two big reasons it ended so one-sidedly.
First, Grant's complete carelessness.
Second, Tiny pouring every ounce of strength into ending it upfront.
'That's how I crushed the careless knight's bones and snapped his neck.'
Of course, the cost was total exhaustion in an instant.
Standing there casually now was mostly mental fortitude and pointless bravado.
But...
"Huuu..."
His Mana Body, now perfectly fused with his flesh, rapidly absorbed ambient mana, restoring his strength.
Another impossibility from his past life.
His previous Nian Ti excelled at repairing the mana-using body since it copied the flesh, but mana recovery was a weakness.
Now, fully integrated, it breathed with his body, naturally drawing in mana like the force of nature it was.
And that mana fueled his exhausted flesh once more.
The quick recovery to walking casually held deep meaning.
Exploding all power at once, then regenerating fast—feats no ordinary mana user could dream of.
'I can definitely grow stronger than in my past life.'
Gaining fresh confidence in the secret art he'd invented and refined, Tiny smiled and slowly walked away.
* * *
The aftermath of the spar hit at dawn the next day.
"The lord requests you join him for breakfast."
The servant's relayed "invitation"—more like a summons.
Tiny nodded with a smile.
Seeing him stroll toward the manor with surprising familiarity after just a day, the servant cleared his throat awkwardly.
"...I wanted to apologize again."
"Hm?"
As Tiny looked puzzled, the servant bowed deeply.
"If I offended you yesterday, please forgive me."
Overly formal, almost excessive.
It was almost laughable, but Tiny could guess why.
Snicker.
"No offense taken. Just lead the way—I don't even know where the reception room is."
"Y-yes. Thank you, Sir Knight."
'Sir Knight...'
Even the servant calling him that probably thought it excessive inwardly.
Yet the title stirred something in Tiny, undeserved as it was.
The free knight title he'd earned past twenty in his past life.
A slum orphan beggar finally holding his head high.
How thrilled he'd been.
Thinking his sister's dream of a proud life had come true.
'Never realizing it was just the beginning.'
And now was no different.
The servant likely meant nothing deep, but it steeled Tiny's resolve.
'This is just the start.'
Exhaling shortly, he followed the overly deferential servant to the lord's chambers.
"I greet the lord."
"Ah, you're here. Sit there."
The lord, seated at the head of the long table, smiled and gestured to the opposite seat—his tone utterly changed from yesterday.
A thick cushion accounted for Tiny's small frame.
As Tiny sat, awkward at the excessive care, platters of food began appearing before him, led by a perfectly grilled steak.
"Steak from young veal. A taste you've never had. Plenty of other dishes too—eat your fill."
"...A bit much for breakfast."
"Not something for the boy knight who devoured a pile as tall as himself yesterday."
Tiny froze mid-reach for fork and knife.
'Boy knight of monstrous strength.'
The lord's teasing words hit too close.
Forcing a wry smile, Tiny shook his head with a sigh.
"Just luck. I'm still sorely lacking. He got careless."
"Even a knight has basics. Who'd believe it spread beyond the territory? Even the outer castle commoners wouldn't."
Tiny bowed deeper as the lord chuckled merrily.
"No. I'm barely worth teaching."
"True enough. Proper training, and you'd soar."
"I look forward to your guidance, my lord."
"Haha, what do I know of knights? Just worried you'd get bored. No teacher for a genius like you in this pond."
...'You.' Again, the shift in address drew a smile, but Tiny's reply held no hesitation.
"History records most great knights self-taught. Their growth came from great lords."
"...As expected. You know history, table manners too—rough, but trained."
Clink.
Tiny's knife sliced the wrong plate at the lord's meaningful smile.
'Tch.'
He kept forgetting he'd regressed, was a child.
Despite this tiny body.
But the fluster passed quickly.
"Bits from overhearing. First time for real—still awkward."
Truth: the manners were adult-learned in his past life, unfamiliar now. But the excuse seemed to land.
"Definitely noble stock. How'd you end up here?"
"...No idea."
"Few black-haired, black-eyed nobles in the empire or neighbors—even decayed houses. Well, not none, but that place is..."
The lord trailed off mysteriously, but Tiny felt nothing.
Why care about guesses on his fabricated backstory?
"...Don't even remember my parents' names. What's the point of origins?"
"...Is that so? Thought you'd care a bit about roots."
"I'd listen if you told."
"Haha, later then. That person comes soon—they'll explain better. They were thrilled at news of you."
"Pardon?"
What nonsense is this?
"Unexpected, yeah. Good way. You botched one thing big, but your talent and presumed status outweigh it."
...One thing clear: he'd sent Tiny's info via expensive magic comms to someone.
The rest? Gibberish.
Presumed status? What delusion?
"Haha, curious face. But spoiling would ruin their joy. Just know—they eagerly await meeting you."
The nonsense escalated.
Tiny probed cautiously to grasp any of it.
"...That person coming in a week—no, six days now? Anything I should know?"
"No, too soon. But it's good—promise. Await that meeting. A great one wants you for big things."
'Sounds like a huge problem.'
Resolve to avoid hardened.
But hiding it, he deflected.
"Truly grateful for the high regard. Despite troubling you... I'll never forget your grace, my lord."
"Hahaha. No trouble. Your intel on the duchy checked out. You owe me nothing. Cheers to the good day. Ah, can't drink yet?"
"...If you wish."
"No, bad for the body—learn late. Best avoid drugs too."
Chugging strong whiskey with steak at breakfast. And that odd smoke from the pipe in his left hand? No ordinary tobacco.
One thing sure: this guy becomes that drug addict in three years.
'Devil-made circles? Devil can reclaim them.'
Lifestyle like this, circle gone—body crumbles fast.
Post-invader uselessness, ditched by backers? Fits.
'Who that person is, what group—who cares now.'
Sorting thoughts, Tiny smiled softly, against his feelings.
Plan to get close to the lord? Proceeding too smoothly.