A man with a patchy beard.
A fellow who looked to be well into his forties was off in the corner, swinging a sword with the weary gaze of someone who’d already died a few times inside.
He looked as if he couldn’t care less who I was.
…His eyes are dead.
Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his bloodshot pupils brimmed with nothing but obsession.
He looked so much like me—before I turned back the clock—that my legs started carrying me toward him before I realized.
Swish! Swish!
He was about 176 centimeters tall, just the right height, and built on the scrawny side.
His face was the picture of a man who’d given up on everything, yet he kept swinging his sword without rest.
I remarked, “Keep swinging like that and your wrists will give out.”
“…”
Swish! Swish!
He simply kept swinging.
So I held my breath, waiting for his training to end.
Who knew how much time passed…
Until at last, he let his sword droop and spoke.
“…What do you want?” His voice was so cracked it sounded like it might break apart entirely.
The moment I heard it, I knew. That wasn’t the voice of someone who protected things, like Kai.
This was the voice of a man running on nothing but revenge—pure, unadulterated vengeance.
“I’m here to recruit comrades.” I kept my tone as nonchalant as possible, as if his troubles were no concern of mine.
The man gave me a brief, sidelong glance, then shuffled off to the corner.
With a heavy thud, he slumped to the floor and uttered, “Not interested.”
His voice sounded as if it might give out at any moment. He hung his head and leaned against the wall, clearly trying to recover his strength.
He’d probably be back to swinging his sword as soon as he’d caught his breath—never mind that his hands were already split open and bleeding.
"Surely even you realize what a rare opportunity this is, sir knight."
“…Sir knight? Spare me, boy, and just go. I haven’t got time to play at make-believe with some pampered young master.” He refused me with such indifference that he didn’t even bother looking my way.
If anything, it was the sort of attitude that suggested a healthy disregard for nobility.
Maybe that was why the other squires stared at the man in horror.
They all looked like they’d looked Death itself in the eye, which drew a wry smirk from me.
They must think I’m Hera or something.
It was only natural for squires to fret this way. After all, with all the rumors about nobles swirling around—and having experienced knights’ bullying first hand—they had every reason.
The general thinking went like this: a knight wasn’t even a noble… so if knights could be such a menace, just imagine how bad the nobles must be.
With a hint of wry amusement still on my lips, I asked the man, “Playing make-believe. Does that make you the same as me?”
“…I simply do not care. My sole purpose lies beyond the Demonic Realm.” He spoke with hollow eyes and a voice thick with rage, barely held in check.
The murderous intent he emanated practically crawled across my skin.
So, his enemy was somewhere past the Demonic Realm…
Just in case, I decided to test my theory. “Are you a bereaved family member of the Ayla Tragedy?”
The man flinched, his body going rigid as he shot me a sharp glare.
He sucked in a rough breath, like someone who’d heard something he never wished to hear again.
After barely managing to wrestle his emotions back under control, he spoke again.
“…If you’re here to talk about that, boy, just go. My misfortune isn’t your idea of a joke.”
“So I was right.”
I’d heard the tale before. There was said to be a sole survivor of the Ayla Village tragedy.
His name was Roxen. Captain of the Ayla Village Guard, and, in time, the Aura Master known as Yaksa.
I sat down beside Roxen and fished a cigarette from my pocket, sticking it between my lips.
“Ah, care for one?” I offered.
“…No need.”
“Turning down a good smoke? You really are a dull one.”
I tucked away the cigarette I’d offered him and lit my own.
Sssst. A haze of smoke started to curl through the training yard.
The other squires and Lea shot me questioning looks, but I ignored it all and spoke up. “Did you transfer here just to get into the Demonic Realm?”
“…That’s right.”
“Well, that’s admirable. I never had the courage myself.” I exhaled a long stream of smoke. “I’ll take you there.”
“…What did you say?”
“I said I’ll take you to the Demonic Realm. Turns out, there’s someone in my squad who wants to go too. He even told me his reason, but for the life of me, I can’t remember it. I’ll have to ask him again later.”
Roxen blinked at me in confusion.
I couldn’t say how long it had been since he’d shown any emotion—but on him, the expression looked quite strange indeed.
“…Why are you helping me?”
“Just because. Think of it as a noble’s atonement for failing to protect you all. I can’t raise the dead, but I can at least help with revenge.”
I ground out the spent cigarette on the ground and stood up.
“All you need to do is be loyal to me. If, someday, I give you an order and you do your utmost to carry it out, then our contract is sealed.”
“…You trust me, boy?”
“Well, if I get tricked, it’ll just mean my judgment was never that great. Still, I’d prefer it if you kept your promise.” I finished with a wry smile.
Honestly, I didn’t expect any of them to show blind loyalty. Not Lancelot, not Kai, and certainly not Roxen. The fact was, every single one of them wanted something from me.
But that didn’t matter. Only one thing did.
Whether they’d be useful for my revenge—that was all that counted.
At the very least, someone who would become an Aura Master would be a tremendous asset when it came time to bring down Duke Artezia’s House.
“So, are you still going to refuse?” I asked, taking my time.
Roxen glanced between his hand and the cigarette mark I’d left on the ground, then squeezed his eyes shut.
Only for a moment, though. He opened them, stood up, and spoke. “Don’t stub your cigarettes out on the ground. The squires have to clean that up.”
“Oh, I’ll be more careful.”
“And another thing.” Roxen planted his sword in the ground and dropped to one knee. “My name is Roxen. Should you grant me the chance for revenge, my sword will be yours, and your enemies will be mine.”
The Knight’s Oath. A dusty old ritual, long forgotten in the mists of time.
When a knight chose their lord, they swore to live for them until their dying breath. For a knight, there was no promise heavier.
“A Knight’s Oath, really? I didn’t peg you for the stuffy, ceremonial sort.”
“It was my daughter’s wish, you see.”
“Oh, my apologies. She must have admired knights.”
Roxen paused briefly before replying, “She did indeed, boy.”
He was likely thinking of his late daughter.
“Ah, I suppose I’ll have to start talking more formally now. No knight would dare speak so casually to their lord.”
Still bowing his head, Roxen cleared his throat and continued, “Please, grant me the chance to serve you as my liege.”
“So now you’ll address me by title? It was rather refreshing while it lasted, you know.”
“If my daughter is watching from above, she’d be shouting at me, boy—I mean, my liege.”
I chuckled as I looked down at Roxen kneeling at my feet and drew a short spear from beneath my coat.
Then, I tapped him lightly on the head and both shoulders with the spear and said, “Unfortunately, I don’t have a sword handy, so you’ll have to make do with a spear for your oath.”
“Even that is an honor.”
“Excellent. Oh, that reminds me—if I’m to form a squad, I’ll need one more person. Do you have anyone you’d recommend?”
As I tucked the spear away, Roxen stood up, sinking into thought.
But soon, with a wry twist of his mouth, he answered, “As you can see, I’m something of a loner. I don’t know many people.”
“Hm… You do give off that impression.”
I clicked my tongue, disappointed, and glanced around. But as expected, there wasn’t anyone suitable nearby—certainly no one radiating the same “don’t-mess-with-me” energy as Roxen.
Is there really no other way?
I shook my head with a faint sigh.
In truth, there was a plan that had come to me even before I met Lea and arrived here.
Right after my regression, the first person I thought of as a potential ally was that fellow. Asking him to join the squad—that was the plan.
The snag, of course, was that I didn’t like him. Not even a little. But no matter how I spun it, there was simply no better option.
Tch. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to see his mug in this lifetime.
I gave my head a good scratch.
Well, recruiting the last squad member could wait.
The real headache is figuring out how to train this one.
I shot a sidelong glance at Roxen, who was in the corner fussing with his sword, and sank into thought.
Finding Roxen in a place like this was a stroke of luck, but now that I had him, I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with him.
I briefly considered giving him a few pointers in swordsmanship, but, frankly, he seemed to have me beat in that department.
Teaching him the Divine Archer’s Aura cultivation technique was out, too—his style and mine went together like oil and water.
If only I knew how he’d fought in his previous life, that might give me a clue.
But the problem was, even back when he was known as Yaksa, I hadn’t so much as glimpsed his face, let alone his Aura.
On the off chance, I asked Roxen, “Do you know any Aura cultivation techniques?”
“I do know the basic one they give to the city guards, my liege.”
“Hmm… Go toss that rubbish in the bin, will you?”
With a third-rate technique like that, you’d be lucky to scrape by as an Aura Expert, never mind reaching Aura Master.
I had no idea how he’d managed to become an Aura Master in his past life, but I was certain it wasn’t thanks to that cultivation technique.
Just as I was pondering what to do—
“Ah.”
An idea tiptoed into my mind.
* * *
“…So, let me get this straight. You want me to teach that soldier—I mean, that squire—my Aura cultivation technique?”
“Well, not teach him directly. I just came to ask your permission to pass it on myself,” I replied with a shrug.
The Grand Duke of Praha, seated at his desk, pressed a weary hand to his forehead.
Apparently, coming for sword lessons and then asking for the family’s treasured cultivation technique was enough to give anyone a migraine.
Hope he recovers soon.
I silently wished the Duke a swift recovery and waited for his answer.
The Grand Duke let out a small, pained sigh before starting to speak.
“…Are you trying to weasel out of today’s sword training with this?”
“I’d love nothing more, but this really isn’t about that.”
“…What a load of hogwash.” The Grand Duke pressed his forehead, seeming to feel his headache worsening, and continued. “Putting aside your urge to skip training, let me ask just one thing first.”
“What is it?”
“…I’m sorry to say this, but do you even know what a son-in-law is?”
“Mm… Someone like a son?”
“…Get out and drop dead.”
Huh, was that not it?
I stared at the Grand Duke, silently asking for the correct answer.
He sighed again and slowly said, “You say things so brazenly that even the direct line would faint if they heard you.”
“Ah.”
“‘Ah,’ he says. That’s the sound my headache forces out of me—‘Ah!’”
The Grand Duke let out another thin sigh.
“And really, the fact that you ever thought this was possible is absurd. This isn’t some cultivation technique you pick up from the neighborhood thugs, you know.”
“But I need him. Even if it’s just to protect Lea.”
At the mention of protecting Lea, the Grand Duke’s eyebrows gave a brief, startled twitch. But only for a moment before he resumed his sighing.
“…Tch. I do owe you from before, so I’ll introduce a cultivation technique that suits him.”
He said something to the head butler standing nearby.
The head butler nodded in understanding and slipped away.
A short while later… The door to the study opened and in walked a woman.
“You called for me, Father?”
It was Roxha Praha. The third daughter of House Praha, and the Trademaster of the family’s merchant guild.
And…
“…Huh?! What are you doing here?”
She was also Lea’s older sister—the very same who’d picked a fight with me not long ago.