------------------
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
------------------
Chapter 4
It had already been a week since I started living in and around Decaine—eating, sleeping, and training.
My daily routine had been nearly identical each day.
In the morning, I would jog around the area to build stamina, then head up to check on the graveyard before starting my training.
—The fundamentals of Havenberg swordsmanship are slashing, thrusting, blocking, and dodging.
The training method was nothing like I had expected.
In fact, it felt so primitive—just swinging the sword in the same way over and over again—that it almost seemed foolish.
[Havenberg Swordsmanship proficiency increased by 0.0002%.]
[Havenberg Swordsmanship proficiency increased by 0.0001%.]
[Havenberg Swordsmanship proficiency...]
No wonder my ancestor had warned me that it would take a long time.
Progress was excruciatingly slow.
The sword path I had once achieved—the one that had earned my ancestor’s acknowledgment—had yet to reappear.
Maybe I’d just gotten lucky back then.
Regaining that sense after taking a break wasn't as easy as I thought.
‘He really was an incredible man.’
My ancestor’s passion for the sword was beyond what I had imagined.
He didn’t become the greatest swordsman just by natural talent or gifted instincts.
He was constantly thinking, researching, and refining his swordsmanship.
Training with him directly made me realize that even more.
His sincerity toward the sword.
Truly, the title of the greatest swordsman in continental history wasn’t something just anyone could hold.
—Take a break.
“Yes, sir.”
I collapsed with a heavy breath and wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead as I leaned against a nearby gravestone.
- John Revan -
That was the name engraved on the gravestone I was leaning on.
He had been an extraordinary martial artist, or so I was told.
They said that in barehanded combat, even Havenberg Arzen wouldn’t have stood a chance against him.
You might wonder how a swordsman could lose to a martial artist without his sword, but Havenberg Arzen wasn’t an ordinary swordsman.
He was incredibly gifted in martial arts as well—most martial artists couldn’t even stand against him.
But John Revan was different.
[Insufficient spiritual energy.]
[Unable to awaken the spirit of John Revan.]
A message popped up.
Grave Eye—the ability to see spirits tied to graves.
But dormant spirits couldn’t be seen.
As soon as I wished to see John Revan’s spirit, a message told me I didn’t have enough spiritual energy to awaken him.
It seemed higher spiritual energy would be required to rouse such souls.
‘Spiritual energy is definitely related to spirits.’
The duration of spirit summoning also depended on it, and awakening other spirits was the same.
Other than my ancestor, none of the remaining sixteen spirits could be awakened with my current spiritual energy.
‘I need to find a way to raise my spiritual energy quickly… but I have no idea how.’
“Reeeeen!”
My mother’s voice echoed from outside Decaine.
I guess she had come up the mountain herself today instead of Resia.
“I’m over here!”
I waved my hands high above my head and called out to her.
She was holding a large bundle in both hands—most likely lunch for me.
“Oh my, look at all that sweat. Is your training really that tough?”
“No, just doing some exercise.”
“I brought some food. You should eat.”
I tore into the skewers of grilled meat and vegetables like a starving beast.
My mother was extremely skilled with her hands, and naturally, she was a fantastic cook.
Honestly, her food was better than anything you could buy elsewhere.
“What’s Resia up to?”
“You know how smart she is, right? Last time, she happened to be at the royal palace when they were reviewing documents, and the administrative aide noticed her abilities and took her in to evaluate her work.”
“Huh? Oh…”
I remembered.
So much had been going on since my regression, I hadn’t even considered this.
‘You idiot!’
This was the time when Resia showcased her exceptional abilities under the aide and eventually entered the royal administration.
The aide himself was skilled at his job, but he lacked both political savvy and real power.
Working under him wasn’t bad—actually, it was far better than dealing with the other corrupt scum in the royal palace.
He was strictly professional and didn’t play games.
But while working there, Resia caught the eye of a noble from the Privy Council.
That disgusting old pervert tried to seduce her and, after being rejected, began tormenting her and our family relentlessly.
That was the beginning of our family’s downfall.
If the aide had been more powerful, maybe things would’ve been different—but he wasn’t, and he didn’t protect her.
‘Tsk…’
The noble from the Privy Council wasn’t even from Brillant.
He was a noble from the Baran Empire.
We couldn’t appeal to the Brillant royalty, and even if we did, they wouldn’t be able to do anything.
Brillant had relied on surrounding nations to survive, and as a result, its power had been splintered and weakened.
This was one of the consequences.
‘It’s just the way things are.’
The Privy Council held immense power.
The best course of action was to never get on that old man’s radar in the first place.
‘Yeah, there’s still time.’
It’s not too late to come up with a plan.
Resia wouldn’t enter the administration for another two months, and it would be several more months before she attracted that bastard’s attention.
I could ask her to pretend she wasn’t qualified and fail the assessment, but that wasn’t really an option.
‘What am I supposed to say? “Hey, I’ve come back from the future, and something bad’s gonna happen, so don’t take the job.”’
And besides, Resia had always wanted to work in the royal palace.
She had long dreamed of proving her worth to the world—how could I tell her not to pursue that?
As her brother, maybe assassinating that old man would be the better option.
‘Wait a sec… not a bad idea, actually.’
If I build up my strength properly, maybe it wouldn’t be so impossible...
“Did you finish eating?”
“Yes, it was delicious.”
Even while deep in thought, I had devoured the meal like a happy beast.
“You’re going down now, right?”
“Yeah. Let’s go together.”
Today was the day to submit a management report to the royal palace.
After chatting with my mother as we descended the mountain, I headed for the capital while she returned home.
When I arrived at the palace, I was finally greeted with good news.
“Take a seat.”
“Yes, sir.”
The administrative aide, always buried in all kinds of royal duties, had finally reviewed my report.
Should I be happy about this… or annoyed?
“You mentioned before that Decaine needed personnel for protection, correct?”
------------------
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
------------------
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You said there were grave robbers?”
“Yes.”
Looking at his indifferent expression as he scanned the paperwork, I had a bad feeling.
“For now, assigning knight-level personnel to protect Decaine is out of the question.”
“What? But the opponent used sword energy!”
To be honest, calling it sword energy was a bit of a stretch—it was just a faint flicker of energy around the blade.
Still, technically, he did emit energy outside of the sword.
So I stuck to my claim.
After all, anyone capable of emitting energy from their sword is usually considered to be at knight level.
“Ren. Even if your ancestor is buried there, that doesn’t mean you can lie.”
The ceremonial aide clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you saying you drove away a knight-level tomb raider?”
At that moment, I was at a loss for words.
What was I supposed to say?
I couldn't exactly claim that I defeated a master who could manifest sword energy…
“Well…”
“I understand your intentions, but if you submit another false report like this, I won’t overlook it.”
“…I'm sorry.”
I had no choice but to shut my mouth in the face of his logical rebuttal.
The aide sighed briefly and showed me a document.
“I can't give you a knight, but I’ll send you a squire-level at least.”
“Really?”
I cheered internally.
I had pushed for a knight, hoping they might settle for something lower—and it worked.
‘What’s with this penny-pincher?’
I quickly checked the document.
Name: Raymond
Age: 18
Rank: Squire
He was a commoner, with no realistic prospect of ever becoming a true knight.
‘Makes sense. In Brillant, most squires are practically slaves due to the lack of manpower.’
The Kingdom of Brillant was in such dire straits that if a commoner looked strong and sturdy enough, they'd just take him, teach him a bit of swordsmanship, and use him.
Fortunately, he seemed decent with a sword.
His swordsmanship reviews weren’t bad.
Actually, this was better.
From my perspective, a squire of commoner origin was much easier to handle than one from a noble family.
Nobles were notoriously difficult to deal with.
“But it looks like he had some trouble with his peers?”
“……Seems like there was a minor scuffle.”
“Ah…”
I barely managed to suppress a chuckle while reviewing the file.
This was clearly a demotion—a punishment for Raymond.
He must’ve clashed with a noble and got blacklisted.
Of course.
“Thank you.”
“Yes. Use him as your assistant caretaker.”
“My… assistant?”
“You don’t want him?”
“No, no! I was just wondering how to properly express my gratitude. Haha.”
“……Do your best.”
I expressed my thanks several more times and left the castle.
It might’ve been a sad affair for Raymond, but not for me.
I already had more work than I could handle, so this was great.
He wasn’t replacing me in guarding the Decaine, but was being added as my subordinate.
“Hehe… He said he’d send him today, right?”
After coming down from the castle, I washed up for the first time in a week, had a brief chat with Resia and Zenon, and returned to Decaine.
“Huh?”
There were signs someone had already entered Decaine.
With a sinking feeling, I rushed over—then let out a sigh of relief.
It was the squire the aide had mentioned earlier.
Tall, ruggedly handsome, with a solid build even through his clothes.
“Are you Raymond, by any chance?”
Just in case, I asked respectfully.
“Yeah. You the caretaker here?”
“…Ah, yes.”
I was momentarily speechless.
Despite his appearance, he spoke with a cocky and dismissive attitude.
Now I could clearly imagine why he had conflicts with others.
I forced a smile, barely suppressing a grimace.
‘Stay calm. Be nice. He’s the only support I’ll get.’
Since I confirmed he was Raymond, there was no need to keep using polite speech.
He was a commoner.
And I was, technically, a noble.
A bastard, so not treated like one, but still.
I extended my hand to him.
“I’m Ren Arzen. I’ll be your superior from now on.”
“Raymond.”
“Why are you so casual with your words?”
This rude punk… I’m older, higher ranked, and of higher status—what the hell is this attitude?
“We’re going to be working together anyway, so why bother with all that formality?”
What a goblin boot-licker.
I almost said it out loud.
‘Calm down… Let’s not get emotional.’
Manpower is scarce.
I can’t afford to mess this up.
“Do you talk to other nobles like this too?”
“Hah! You want to be treated like a noble? You’re just a gravekeeper.”
He had a real talent for making me forget my resolutions in seconds.
I held back with superhuman patience.
I think I understood his attitude now.
He looked down on me just because I was a gravekeeper.
— What a ridiculous brat.
I heard my ancestor’s voice from behind me.
At times like this, we’re really in sync.
“Seventeen heroes who once protected the continent rest here. The only reason you’re even alive is thanks to—”
“Shut it! What are you, some old fart with dusty lectures? You don’t even look that much older than me.”
I’m 21 now, but if you count my past life, I’m well over 30.
You little punk…
“Anyway, gravekeeping is part of your job now. Disrespecting it is disrespecting yourself.”
“What’re you talking about? I’m a knight! Not some gravekeeper!”
God, I have so much work, and they send me this beggar of a brat.
I’d had enough.
“Ha… What kind of knight are you? You little worm. Do you think a squire is anywhere close to a knight?”
“W-worm?”
I’d heard my ancestor say that so often, it slipped out naturally.
Now that I said it myself, I get why he used it—it really hits.
— A worm would be generous for this one.
He’s right.
I’m a worm, but this guy?
He’s not even that… maybe just trash?
“What, someone praised your sword skills once and you think you’re hot stuff? Don’t act up. Guys like you are a dime a dozen.”
“And who the hell are you to say that? You bear the Arzen name and can’t even swing a sword properly, you moron!”
“What? Moron?”
That was a bit much.
Even my ancestor never called me a moron.
This brat’s in desperate need of discipline.
He clearly takes pride in his sword—maybe I should crush that pride with a duel?
I had gotten better after swinging the sword non-stop for a week, but… was I good enough?
‘Please help me out here.’
I looked at my ancestor with pleading eyes.
— Pitiful. You still can’t handle trash like that? Tsk. Pick up your sword.
I smoothed over the smile forming on my lips, put on a stern expression, and said to Raymond:
“How about a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Yeah. Let’s have a duel. Loser becomes the winner’s slave—does whatever they're told.”
“Hah! You’re not just a moron, you’re crazy.”
“What? Scared? I’m a moron who can’t use a sword, right? Of course you’ll win.”
My provocation hit hard—Raymond’s face twisted and he clenched his teeth.
“Fine. Draw your sword. I’ll wreck you.”
“Keh, alright. Let’s do this.”
Laughter slipped from my mouth.
A squire challenging the continent’s strongest swordsman.
How could I not laugh?
------------------
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
------------------
