After a while, Chris Avern, the butler, arrived at the knights' training grounds. He handed a letter to the captains of the knight brigades.
"Alright, we have received permission to teach you, Young Master," Calvin said.
The knights cleared a portion of the training grounds for me.
"Will you be teaching me, Calvin?"
Calvin nodded in response. He threw a sword that landed a few feet in front of me—a real iron sword, not a wooden one like the one I used in my duel with Amon. Then, he assumed a fighting stance.
I don't know if it's because I'm the Count's son and he's taking me seriously, or if he actually thinks I have potential.
Whichever it is, the bloodlust in his eyes makes me shiver—and excited at the same time.
No ordinary knight would show such killing intent to a beginner unless they believed their opponent could handle it.
I grinned inwardly.
I walked toward the sword. I grabbed the handle and tried to lift it.
Hehe, I have potential after—
Huh? Why can't I lift it?
It must be stuck in the ground. Yeah… even if I have potential, I'm still a beginner—I can't just pull a sword out of the ground like that. I tried to reassure myself.
I checked, but it wasn't stuck at all.
Using all my strength, I managed to lift it and turn it upright, but it took everything I had just to keep it steady. My arms trembled violently, and the hilt slipped in my sweaty grip, the blade wobbling like it might drag me down with it.
I couldn't even assume a proper stance like this.
"Young Master, shall we begin?"
His eyes still emitted intense bloodlust. He was about to charge at me with everything he had.
What? Doesn't he see how flimsy I am? My whole body's trembling, sir knight!?
A cold knot formed in my stomach.
I glanced at Chris, who was refereeing the duel. I needed him to stop this. I couldn't do it myself—it would be incredibly embarrassing to surrender before we even started.
Chris, stop the duel! Give an excuse! Any excuse!
I tried my best to telepathically send my thoughts to him.
Chris nodded and gave me a thumbs up.
Hope filled my chest. I knew Chris would understand me—
"Begin!"
…Chris?
Chris, feeling proud that he had "read" Alan's mind, rubbed his nose with his index finger. Hehe, I did good!
On the other hand, I was horrified.
I'm definitely lowering your wages, Chris!!!
Calvin lunged toward me. I could feel the force behind his attack even before it landed. The air itself felt heavy—pressing down on me. If that hit me, I was dead.
I knew there was only one way to stop this. I gathered my courage and resolve.
In an instant, I threw my sword.
"I surrender!" I shrieked.
"Eh?" Calvin halted mid-lunge.
"Eh?" Chris suddenly felt like he had made a mistake.
"EHHHHH?!" The knights watching from the sidelines were completely stunned.
And I, caught in the middle of it all, stood there red as a tomato.
The sword I threw… wasn't really thrown.
It just plopped weakly beside me.
I got ahead of myself. In the original story, it took me years to properly learn swordsmanship—and even then, I was nowhere near Amon's level.
I thought that after gaining the memories of my past life, I'd suddenly awaken some hidden talent for the sword.
But I see now… it was nothing more than a pipe dream.
"I don't think swordsmanship is for me."
A few sighs of disappointment echoed around me. I couldn't blame them. After all, I was the son of Ben Spades, one of the strongest magic swordsmen. Even if they didn't expect me to reach his level, they had hoped I was finally making an effort.
Seeing me give up without even putting up a fight… must have crushed those hopes.
"Young Master, Calvin didn't hold back at all," Hans Serjo stepped forward. "Allow me to be your opponent. I will guide you through the basics properly. It would be a shame to give up now when you haven't even experienced your full potential."
Genuine concern was written all over his face.
Seeing Hans try to encourage me, Calvin, Jenal, and several other knights began cheering me on as well.
"I couldn't even hold the sword steadily!" I snapped, my voice firm. "Tell me—when you first held a sword, did you think it was heavy?"
The knights fell silent, stunned.
"I thought it was hella heavy! Sure, I could train for a few years and maybe reach a decent level—but would it be worth it? Dedicating my life to a skill I'll never truly master?"
As I spoke, the knights simply stared at me.
"How are you so sure you'll never master it?" a knight from the side asked.
I glanced at all the knights and squires around the training grounds.
"Because I've seen you," I said. "Even the squires younger than me can hold a sword properly. I've already witnessed what talented swordsmen look like—and it's not me."
I gestured toward the knights surrounding me.
They seemed… mesmerized. Or maybe being acknowledged as talented stroked their pride a little.
Still, if that eased their unease—even just a bit—that was enough for me.
"And who said anything about giving up?" I continued. "I may not be able to master the sword, but I'm sure I can learn something else!"
The knights began to cheer, their spirits slowly lifting. I could tell—they respected me, even if only a little more than before.
I didn't want to disappoint them again.
So this time… I had to use what I knew.
The story may have changed, and the future was no longer certain—but the skills I once gained… those were still within my control.
That's right.
There was something—even in the original story—that I was good at.
My true hidden potential…
The one that was only revealed in the final arc.
Thwack.
The knights' eyes widened, their jaws dropping as if the sight before them was unreal.
Then—
Cheers erupted across the training grounds.
"That's his fifth time in a row!" Jenal said, impressed.
"I'm sorry I doubted you, Young Master!" Hans added, both relieved and amazed.
"Who would have thought that the son of one of the strongest swordsmen would be a genius with the bow?" Calvin said. His face remained expressionless, but his tone carried clear admiration.
A genius with the bow, huh…
That's not far off from my real talent.
It wasn't just bows. In the original story, I could hit anything with accuracy.
There were countless moments where I saved Amon and the party by throwing my sword or dagger at an enemy—every single throw landing exactly where I wanted it to.
You know, you're more useful when you throw that sword. I'm not making fun of you! You land more hits throwing it than actually swinging it! Don't you agree, Amon?
…Her words.
Those were the words that made me change my weapon before the final battle. I wanted to impress her—wanted to get her attention.
But it was all for nothing.
Well… it was true that I became more useful.
In dealing with small fry, at least.
But that was only because Amon was the main character. He had to be the one to defeat the bosses.
Anyway, that was supposed to be my power-up arc.
But since it came so late…
I never truly got to explore its full potential.
That changes today.
I will master the bow.