## (Daiki Greyrat) - (Point of View)
In my past life, I lost my parents, but...
And here, I have Paul, who ruffles our hair with that clumsiness of his that says "I love you" without needing words. I have Zenith, whose laughter is capable of filling cracks in my soul that I didn't even know I had. And I have him, Rudeus, my twin brother, the other half of my frequency in this new world. He understands the silence, the weight of memories that cannot be told.
Two more years passed since I came to this world.
And finally, the day I've been waiting for... Wait, was I waiting? Me? That means...
I slapped my face to wake myself up—
We turned five years old.
A new opportunity, Rudeus and I went down the stairs with something called... enthusiasm? Yes, that's definitely what it was.
The smell was the first thing that hit us... Freshly baked bread... seasoned meat... and something unmistakably sweet. On the table were golden rolls still giving off heat, colorful fruits, and cheeses stacked in a generous tower.
Though what fascinated me most was the meat platter that smelled of herbs.
For real nobles, this would be a simple thing, peasant food. This was different. This was Zenith, up since before dawn. It was Paul, surely stealing bits of food while she shooed him away from the kitchen. It was Lilia, moving silently so everything would be perfect.
"It's time for gifts. When a child turns five, they receive something special from their family. It's a tradition that marks the passage from early childhood to... well, less early childhood."
Paul smiled and went to get something he had prepared in the other room. He returned holding two objects wrapped in cloth.
"Daiki. During these two years, you've demonstrated dedication, discipline, and passion for the sword that I rarely see even in adults. You've earned this."
He unwrapped the cloth, revealing two swords. One was wooden, shorter and lighter than the practice one I usually used. Clearly custom-made for my current size, with better balance and professional finish.
But the second... was a real sword.
It wasn't large—in fact, it was specifically designed for a five-year-old child. The grip was wrapped in good quality leather, and the pommel had the Greyrat family emblem engraved on it.
"Father, this is... it's..."
"It's a real sword," Paul said. "With a real edge. It's not a toy, Daiki. It's a weapon."
"I know, Father. I'll take care of it. I'll respect it."
Paul nodded, satisfied, and extended both swords to me.
I stretched out my hands. I took the wooden sword first, weighing it carefully.
"The balance is completely different..." The words came out on their own. "More balanced. The center is right... here. It's perfect."
Then, slowly, as if any sudden movement might break the moment, I took the steel sword.
I made a vertical swing.
"The center of gravity is further forward. Toward the upper third of the blade. It completely changes the movement dynamics. Requires more wrist control to compensate, especially on upward cuts. And the inertia..."
"Daiki."
I blinked. I had forgotten everyone was there.
"Yes, Father?"
He had a strange expression. Amusement, perhaps. Pride, definitely.
"Do you like it?"
The question pulled me out of the analysis. Suddenly I was no longer dissecting combat mechanics. I was just a five-year-old boy with the best gift he had received in two lifetimes.
I smiled. I couldn't help it... It was probably ridiculous.
"Do I like it? Father, it's... it's the best gift in the world. It's incredible. I..."
The words got stuck. So I did the only thing that made sense.
"Thank you, Father!"
Paul stood still for a second, probably surprised.
"You're welcome, son. You've earned it."
I turned toward Mother.
"Can I show you, Mother?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Come here."
I showed her every detail. The balance, the weight, how the steel shone differently in the light...
Finally, Father cleared his throat.
"Now then, with the sword comes responsibility. A man must always carry a sword in his heart. Not to attack, but to protect. You have to be prepared to defend those you love. Someday you'll have people who depend on you, and your duty will be—"
"Paul." Zenith interrupted him.
"What? It's important that he understands—"
"He's five years old. You can give him the 'honor of the swordsman' sermon when he's at least ten."
"It's never too early to—"
"Paul..."
"All right, all right." Father sighed. "The short version: put it away when you're not using it, don't play with it like it's a stick, and if you ever draw it against someone, make sure it's for a reason that's worth it. Understood?"
"I understand. A sword is not a toy. It's a tool, and like any tool, it requires respect and purpose."
Paul blinked.
"Exactly. Where did you get that from?"
"From you. You said it about six months ago during training."
Paul exchanged a glance with my mother. She shrugged with a smile that clearly said: "Our children are special."
Then came Rudeus's turn.
I watched as Paul unwrapped another sword. Similar to mine in design but with slightly different details.
"Rudeus, I know your heart is in magic, not in the sword. And I don't expect you to follow the same path as your brother. But every man should at least know how to defend himself in close combat."
Rudeus took the sword with both hands.
"It's heavier than I expected."
"Real steel always is."
"Thank you, Father. I'll take care of it."
"I know you will." Paul ruffled his hair. "Now, your mother has something for both of you."
My mother stepped forward, holding two books wrapped in cloth.
"Daiki." She handed me the first one. "I know you've been interested in healing for quite a while now. This is a compendium on healing magic, from the basics to advanced level. I thought it might help you."
I took the book.
"Mother... this must have cost a fortune."
"Books are expensive, yes. But for my children's education, no price is too high."
"It's perfect! Thank you!"
She hugged me, and I felt something wet against my hair. When I pulled away, her eyes were bright.
"Are you crying? Did I hurt you?"
"These are happy tears, sweetheart. Very happy."
Then she turned to Rudeus.
"And for you, Rudy." She handed him the second book, noticeably thicker. "An encyclopedia of plants. I know how much you like to study and learn about the world. It's full of illustrations and explanations about plants from all over the continent."
Rudeus's eyes lit up in a different way than when he received the sword.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, immediately leafing through the pages. "Mother, this is... look at these illustrations. They're so detailed. And the descriptions of magical and medicinal properties..."
He got lost in the book for a moment before remembering where he was.
"Thank you so much, Mother. This was exactly what I wanted."
Zenith hugged him too.
"I'm glad, sweetheart."
Finally, it was Roxy's turn.
The small Migurd tutor stepped forward holding two magic wands. They were simple but well-crafted: approximately thirty centimeters in length each. Rudeus's had a blue stone embedded in the tip, while mine had a red stone.
Roxy explained that she had made them recently. As Shishou, it was her duty to create a staff for disciples who mastered beginner-level elemental magic. She apologized for the oversight—since we had both been using magic without incantations from the beginning, she had overlooked this very important tradition between magic masters and students.
It seemed to be a deeply rooted custom in the magic community. Roxy, who had initially been reluctant to accept the title of Shishou, evidently didn't feel comfortable ignoring such an established tradition held dear by her peers.
We both received our wands with gratitude, promising to care for them with appreciation. I immediately noticed how the stone facilitated mana channeling, especially useful for the quick combat I practiced.
Roxy responded with a somewhat awkward smile, but clearly satisfied by the reception of her gifts.
They ate until they were full, laughed, shared stories. Paul tried to give a sword demonstration and almost knocked over a lamp, earning himself a scolding from Zenith.
At one point, Rudeus and I found ourselves alone for a few minutes in the courtyard.
I was holding my new steel sword. Rudeus was leafing through his plant encyclopedia, but occasionally looked over.
"You're very happy," Rudeus commented.
"I am," I admitted. "This sword is perfect. And Mother's book on healing magic, and Roxy's wand... everything fits together perfectly."
"Doesn't it bother you that I don't share your passion for the sword?"
"Why would it bother me? You're a genius at magic. I'm dedicated to the sword. We're different."
Rudeus smiled.
"I suppose so. Though I admit your magic wand interests me more than the sword they gave me."
"And your plant encyclopedia seems fascinating to me. Maybe we should share knowledge."
"We can do that." Rudeus nodded. "You teach me about healing herbs, I'll explain advanced magic theory to you."
"Deal."
We shook hands with exaggerated solemnity, then laughed.
"You're very alive, brother."
It was true. I had smiled so much today. So much that my cheeks still held that joy. And I hadn't even realized it.
"I... I mean," I began speaking in Japanese, "since I've been here, I have a family. I have Paul, who taught me the sword, and that strength without purpose is nothing. Zenith, whose healing magic healed more than my wounds... it healed parts of me I didn't even know were broken. Lilia, who's always been there, caring for me with that discreet devotion only she knows, giving me a stability I never knew I needed. I have you, of course. And now Roxy, who taught me to improve my control. She saw me for who I was."
"Thanks to all of them... thanks to you all, I've improved. Not just in skills. In everything else too."
## (Zenith and Paul Greyrat) - (Point of View)
That night, when the children were already asleep, Paul and Zenith were in their room.
"It was a good day," Paul said, stretching.
"Daiki was so happy," Zenith murmured. "When he received the sword, his eyes... they sparkled like stars."
"That boy has the passion of a true swordsman," Paul said with pride. "In two years he's progressed more than many do in five."
"Do you think it was a good idea to give it to him so young?"
"He's not like other five-year-old children. He has the discipline and maturity to handle it responsibly. Besides, he'll be supervised. It's not like he's going to carry it everywhere. He has much more potential than I did at his age."
Zenith nodded, convinced.
"And Rudeus with his books. So different from Daiki, but just as special."
"We have incredible children," Paul said, pulling her toward him. "Different, yes. But both extraordinary in their own way."
Zenith snuggled against her husband, feeling complete.
Their two sons, each with their own path, but both shining with their own light.
This perfect birthday was another excuse to let themselves be carried away by the night again.
(***)
## (Daiki Greyrat) - (Point of View)
Starting the day after my birthday, training changed completely.
I was no longer the three-year-old child struggling with basic swings until exhaustion. Now, with two years of solid fundamentals etched into muscle and memory, and a real sword resting beside my bed as a constant reminder, Paul decided the time had come to teach me true swordsmanship.
"In this world there are three main styles of sword combat. I've mentioned their names before, in passing, but now it's time for you to understand what they really mean. What they represent."
I positioned myself in front of him in the training yard, with the wooden sword in my hands. Rudeus was on the other side with Roxy.
"The Sword God Style," Paul raised one finger, "is based on absolute offense. Strike first, strike fast, strike with lethal intent. Defense is secondary, almost irrelevant. The philosophy is simple: if you don't take down the enemy with the first attack, you strike and retreat, maintain pressure, repeat until victory."
"The Water God Style," he continued, raising a second finger, "is its perfect opposite. Total defense. Deflections, parries, precise counterattacks. Using the enemy's strength against themselves, like water flowing around rocks. Masters of this style can defend against anything: swords, magic, arrows, even attacks they didn't even see coming. It's the style of personal guards, of protectors, of those whose duty is that no one passes."
Paul paused. A grimace crossed his face, as if he'd bitten into something bitter.
"And the North God Style... that's not real swordsmanship, not in the traditional sense. It's fighting dirty with a sword. Constant adaptation, psychological tricks, deceptions, low blows. Throwing dirt in eyes while stabbing. Feigning weakness to ambush. It's useful for mercenaries and adventurers, I suppose, but it doesn't have the honor or elegance of the other two. Though..." he admitted, almost reluctantly, "it's effective, for picking up women too."
"You will learn the Sword God Style as your foundation. It's the one I know best, the one I can teach you properly. But I'll also teach you the Water God Style. Attack and defense. The two pillars of a truly complete swordsman. You can't be a master being one-dimensional. Understood?"
"Yes, Father."
"Good." He nodded. "Now show me your basic Sword God Style pose. Everything you've learned until now. No rush, with perfect form."
I positioned myself in the center of the yard. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh morning air. The world narrowed: me, my sword, the space around me. I moved.
Vertical cut from high guard. Horizontal at mid-height, rotating the hips. Diagonal upward, weight flowing from back to front. Guard change, feet sliding over the packed earth. Direct thrust.
When I finished, returning to the initial guard position, I noticed Paul had a strange expression. I couldn't completely decipher it—there was surprise, but also something more.
"What's wrong?"
"Your form is..." he stopped, searching for words, "almost perfect for your age. No, forget that. It's perfect even for apprentices years older than you." He narrowed his eyes. "You've been practicing more than I thought, haven't you? Beyond our sessions."
"Every night, before sleeping, I review the movements mentally. I visualize every detail: the angle of the cut, the wrist rotation, the weight shift. And sometimes, when everyone's asleep, I go out to the yard and practice under the moon."
Paul let out a laugh. The pride on his face was unmistakable.
"Obsessed brat. Good. If you've already mastered the basics at this level, then it's time to teach you what's truly important. What separates a competent swordsman from a master."
He walked several steps away toward the area where we had the practice dummies—thick logs wrapped in ropes and straw, quite battered after years of use.
"Swordsmanship in this world isn't simply swinging a metal stick. True masters, those who reach advanced ranks, can split rocks with a single cut. They can launch cutting waves that travel at a distance, piercing enemies meters away. They can move faster than the common human eye can follow."
"How? How is that physically possible?"
"Like this." Paul positioned himself in front of one of the thickest dummies. For a moment, everything was completely still. Then he moved.
It wasn't a normal swing. It was an explosive movement, too fast to follow. There was a sound—not a dull thud but a clean, sharp crack, like fabric tearing—and the dummy split cleanly into two perfect halves that fell to the sides.
"How...?" I swallowed. "How did you do that? That's not just brute force."
Paul scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. Clearly uncomfortable with the technical question. He'd never been good at explaining theory.
"Well... you take a firm step, concentrate your strength and wham!" He made a vague gesture with his hand. "That's the trick, more or less."
"'More or less'? Father, you just cut through a thick log with a wooden sword. There has to be more than just taking a firm step."
"You put strength in your hips, not in your arms. You concentrate your energy at the point of impact. With intention. It's not that complicated once you get the hang of it after... you know, years of practice."
"Father, you're using mana, aren't you?"
"Mana? No, I'm not a mage. It's just proper technique and years of—"
"It's mana. It has to be. There's no physical way to split treated wood like that. Basic physics doesn't allow it."
"Honestly... I don't know. I've never thought about it in those terms. I just... do it. I've always done it since I reached a certain level. When you train enough, repeat the movements thousands of times, your body learns to do it on its own."
An idea began forming in my mind. If it really was mana, if body reinforcement was the basis of advanced swordsmanship techniques...
"Can I try?"
I was already walking toward another large rock we occasionally used as a target.
Paul let out a laugh.
"You can try, sure, but it usually takes years before someone achieves their first properly reinforced cut. Even talented students take months of dedicated practice to—"
I didn't hear the rest. I was already positioning myself in front of the rock, wooden sword in hand. I closed my eyes, blocking out external distractions. In my mind, I visualized the flow of mana. Roxy had taught me to feel it, to mold it, to direct it with my will. I'd always used it externally—launching fireballs, creating water shields, projecting magic outward.
But internally? Directing it through my own body?
I felt the mana in my core, that warm center just below my sternum. A river of energy flowing through invisible channels.
"Don't push it outward. Carry it through your muscles. Reinforce the fibers. Strengthen the bones. Make it flow through your arms, to your hands, to the sword. Turn it into an extension of yourself, not just physically but magically."
I opened my eyes.
I tightened my grip on my wooden sword.
The mana began to flow. From my center, through my chest, down my arms, tingling in my fingers. The wooden sword warmed slightly in my grip.
I closed my eyes for a second, visualizing each step as Paul had taught me.
Right foot forward. Knees flexed. I opened my eyes and gripped the wooden handle between my hands.
The sword rose above my head, tracing a perfect arc in the air.
Then, with all the strength my small body could gather, I brought down the strike.
There was a sound. Lesser than Paul's, higher pitched, almost like a whistle. But it was definitely there.
The rock didn't split in two. I didn't expect it to.
But there was a crack. A deep crack running from where my sword had impacted, extending several centimeters downward. Much deeper than a five-year-old child with a wooden sword should be able to make.
"What... what the hell did you just do?"
He approached almost running, kneeling next to the rock to examine the cut. He ran his fingers along the crack, as if he couldn't believe it was real.
"Mana reinforcement. I visualized the energy flow, directed it through my body to the sword, and cut."
My heart was beating hard with excitement.
Paul slowly looked up at me. The expression on his face was something I'd never seen before.
"Daiki... What you just did... Some never achieve it consciously. For them it always remains as vague instinct, something they can't control or activate at will."
"It wasn't perfect. I barely made a crack. You split a complete dummy."
"Daiki." Paul knelt to be at my height, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Listen to me well. You've consciously connected magic with swordsmanship in a way most warriors never achieve in their entire lives. Some of the best swordsmen I know couldn't explain how they reinforce their attacks if their lives depended on it."
"Is... is it a bad thing?"
"Bad?" Paul let out a laugh that sounded almost hysterical. "It's extraordinary! It's fucking incredible!"
He lifted me off the ground in a sudden embrace, spinning me in the air.
"My son is a prodigy!"
When he finally put me down, still somewhat dizzy, he had that huge smile he reserved for moments of genuine paternal pride. The same smile from when I achieved my first proper swing, but multiplied by ten.
"We're going to work on this. If you can do it consciously, we can refine it."
The following days were intense in a way that made previous training seem like vacation.
Paul completely adjusted my regimen. Now I didn't just practice forms, poses, and simulated combat, but dedicated specific time each day to channeling mana while executing sword techniques.
The exhaustion was different.
Draining your muscles until they trembled was one thing. Emptying your mana reserve while demanding maximum physical precision was completely different. Like running a marathon while solving complex mathematical equations.
At the end of each session, I collapsed on the training yard grass. Physically exhausted.
But I progressed.
Slowly, week after week, the reinforcement became more natural. I no longer had to stop and deliberately visualize each step of the mana flow. It began to occur almost instinctively when I concentrated properly on a cut.
"The final trick," Paul explained to me during a particularly hard session, "is that you don't think of it as two separate things. It's not 'execute the cut' plus 'reinforce with mana.' It's simply 'truly cutting.'"
It made sense. Like when you learn to ride a bicycle—at first you consciously think about every aspect: pedaling, maintaining balance, steering. But eventually you stop thinking and simply ride.
Roxy also noticed the change.
"Your mana control has improved significantly in recent weeks."
She said it during one of our study sessions.
"Specifically in how you channel it internally, instead of projecting it. What has changed in your training?"
I explained to her about physical reinforcement, about how Paul was teaching me to use mana to strengthen my body and sword attacks.
"Conscious body reinforcement at your age..." she murmured, more to herself. "Most mages never learn to do it properly because it requires intense physical training in addition to magical training."
"Daiki, I must ask you something important. Do you really love the sword as much as magic? Or are you just forcing yourself because you think you must master both? Because this path you're taking... is exponentially more difficult than specializing in just one."
The question surprised me. I stopped, really considering it.
Did I love them? Or was I just following a pattern because it was expected?
"Yes. The sword makes me feel alive. Anchored to the physical moment in a way nothing else achieves. Magic makes me feel... powerful. They're completely different, but both complete me in ways I can't explain."
Roxy studied my face for a long moment, searching for any trace of doubt or falsehood. Apparently satisfied, she nodded slowly.
"Then we'll continue. But I want to teach you something specific for someone who walks your particular path."
During the following weeks, she showed me battle magic techniques she'd never mentioned before. Quick spells that could be cast with one hand while the other held a sword. Elemental reinforcements that could be applied directly to weapons. Instantaneous shields that could be invoked in fractions of a second.
It was around those days, just when I was starting to take my first steps in swordsmanship under Paul's tutelage, that magic lessons with Roxy began to become considerably more technical and practical.
"What happens if you cast Waterfall, then Geothermal Island, and then Freezing Field, in that order?" Roxy asked.
"Fog forms."
"Correct. So, how would you disperse that fog?"
My brother took a moment, probably visualizing the complete process in his mind.
"I'd use Geothermal Island again to heat the ground."
"Exactly. Try it."
Rudeus tried it. The fog formed.
"This is called combined magic," Roxy explained, addressing mainly Rudeus. "It's about provoking a natural phenomenon by combining different types of magic in a precise sequence."
Rudeus nodded.
"For example," Roxy continued, "in grimoires there appears magic to make it rain, but curiously there's no spell registered to generate fog directly. So ancient mages resorted to combining different spells to reproduce that natural phenomenon."
I finished my set of swings and approached, still with the wooden sword in hand.
"The understanding of natural phenomena isn't very developed. In that sense, combined magic is full of the ingenuity and creativity of ancient mages."
"Sensei," I interrupted, resting my sword against my shoulder. "Does that mean you could technically create almost any natural phenomenon if you understand how it works?"
Roxy looked at me, and for a moment she seemed to carefully consider her response.
"Magic can do many things, yes. But you shouldn't overestimate it, Daiki. Just act calmly, doing what you can do and what you must do. Not everything is possible, and not everything is prudent."
"Besides," she added, crossing her arms, "if you go around saying you can do everything, you'll end up receiving requests for things you can't even do."
"Are you speaking from personal experience, Sensei?" Rudeus asked.
"That's right." Roxy sighed. "I'll have to be more careful about what I promise in the future."
"But are there really people who request so many things from a mage?"
"Of course. It's not that there are that many Advanced-rank mages." Roxy raised a finger. "Approximately, one in twenty people is capable of combat. Of those, only one in twenty is a mage. That is, one mage per four hundred people."
"But those who have studied properly until finishing magic school—that is, Advanced-rank ones—are one in a hundred mages. That means an Advanced-rank mage is one in forty thousand people."
I whistled softly. That was considerably rare.
"And if, in addition, they can use combined magic along with Medium and Advanced-rank spells, their capabilities multiply exponentially. That's why they're so sought after in various fields. Even to work as private tutors, you need to have at least that rank."
Rudeus stepped forward with another question, clearly as interested as I was.
"And which is the best university?"
"Without a doubt, Ranoa Magic University. It has excellent facilities and professors. You can receive modern, high-level classes that you wouldn't learn at other schools."
"Did you graduate from there too?" Rudeus asked.
"That's right. Although... since magic schools tend to be very elitist, I, being of the demon race, could only enter the Magic University. In other places, it's enough not to be Human for them to reject you in the selection phase."
I frowned. Discrimination was something that deeply bothered me.
"But Ranoa Magic University doesn't have those absurd prejudices," Roxy continued, recovering her enthusiasm. "As long as the theory is correct, they don't reject you just for being eccentric or from another race. Also, by accepting diverse races, enormous progress has been made in studying forms of magic unique to each one. If you decide to dedicate yourselves to magic, I strongly recommend you consider going to that university."
I exchanged a glance with Rudeus. A magic university... sounded like an adventure waiting to happen.
"Isn't it too early to decide that?" Rudeus said cautiously.
"For you, Rudy, yes." Roxy looked at him with something like melancholy. "But there's little left that I can teach you. Since you're approaching graduation, I think it's a good time to talk about this."
"Graduation?"
Roxy nodded.
"The graduation exam will be outside the village. I already have a horse prepared to go."
I saw how Rudeus straightened up. I knew that reaction. After he told me about his past life, about the bullying, about how they beat and humiliated him, about how that trauma had turned him into a recluse for decades... I understood perfectly why the idea of going outside terrified him.
"Outside...?" His voice sounded smaller than usual.
"Yes, outside the village." Roxy looked at him curiously. "Is there a problem?"
"Couldn't we do it inside the house...?"
"We can't."
"We can't...?"
Roxy seemed to misinterpret his hesitation.
"Is something wrong with you?"
"It's just... there might be monsters outside..." Rudeus searched for excuses, and not very good ones.
"As long as we don't approach the forest, it's very rare to run into any in this area. And even if it happens, they're weak. Even I can defeat them alone without problem. In fact, I think you could handle them too, Rudy."
Rudeus didn't respond. He just stared at some indefinite point in the distance, and I recognized that look.
"Ah, now that I remember... Rudy, you've never left the house, have you?"
"No..." he admitted in a low voice.
"I see... So, what scares you... is the horse?"
"I-it's not that I'm afraid of horses!"
"Fufu. I'm glad to hear it. I see that, in part, you're as childish as befits your age. That's a relief."
Before Rudeus could protest more, Roxy lifted him over her shoulder with surprising strength for her size.
"Waaah?!"
"Once you're mounted, you'll see it's not so scary anymore."
"Wait, Sensei." I intervened. "Can I talk to my brother for a moment? Alone."
Roxy blinked, surprised by the request, but nodded after a moment.
"Sure. I'll take a break anyway." She carefully set Rudeus down and headed toward the house. "I'll take the opportunity to eat something. I'm hungry after preparing everything."
Once she was far enough away, I turned to Rudeus.
"Brother." I put a hand on his shoulder, speaking in Japanese. "I know exactly what's happening."
Rudeus looked at me but said nothing.
"I know why you've never left the house," I continued. "I remember everything you told me. Your past life."
"It's pathetic, isn't it?"
"No. It's not. But listen to me carefully."
"This is going to be fine. It's just a ride with Roxy. She'll protect you, and honestly, I doubt you'll encounter anyone beyond some bored villagers. But if when you come back, someone, whoever it is, bothered you or made you feel bad... tell me. Just tell me who it was."
"And what will you do?"
"Whatever's necessary." I smiled. "No one's going to make you feel like in your past life. Not while I'm here. So if anyone gets too smart, you tell me, understood?"
Rudeus nodded slowly.
"Understood."
"Good. Now go and show Sensei what you're made of. And try not to do anything too crazy."
That drew a small laugh from Rudeus.
"No promises."
"That's the attitude."
And so they left.
I watched from the house entrance as Roxy mounted Rudeus on Caravaggio. My brother looked back once, and I waved at him, a silent reminder that everything would be fine.
Then they disappeared down the road, and I went back inside.
"Didn't you go with them?" Zenith asked from the kitchen, where she was preparing something that smelled delicious.
"It's Rudeus's exam, not mine." I sat at the table. "Besides, I already have my own pending training with Father."
"Paul is taking a nap." Zenith laughed. "He said something about needing energy for the afternoon session."
"So he fell asleep on the sofa."
"Exactly."
I spent the next few hours practicing basic forms in the yard, reviewing the movements Paul had taught me.
Occasionally I channeled mana through the strikes, feeling how the energy reinforced my muscles.
It still wasn't perfect. I still consumed too much mana for the effect I achieved. But I was improving.
The sun had advanced considerably in the sky when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
I set the practice sword aside and went to the front of the house just as Roxy and Rudeus were returning.
Both were completely soaked, hair stuck to their faces, clothes dripping water.
"What the hell happened to you?" I asked.
"Successful graduation exam." Roxy dismounted with an expression between proud and exhausted. "Your brother is officially a Saint-rank water mage."
"Really?"
"Really." Rudeus also dismounted, and there was something different in his expression. A small smile, genuine and satisfied. "It was... intense."
"I bet it was." I smiled at him.
Rudeus laughed.
"How was it?"
"It was... good. Better than I expected." He paused. "Thanks. For earlier."
Zenith came out of the house at that moment.
"Good heavens! You're soaked!" She ran toward them with a worried mother's expression. "You're going to catch a cold. Inside, both of you. Now. You need to change immediately."
"Yes, Mother." Rudeus let himself be dragged inside.
Roxy followed him, murmuring something about towels.
Paul appeared from inside the house, yawning and scratching his stomach.
"What did I miss?"
"Rudeus passed his graduation exam," I answered simply. "He's officially a Saint-rank mage now."
Paul whistled, clearly impressed.
"That brat..." He shook his head with a proud smile. "I guess now I have to work harder not to fall behind as a father."
"Probably."
"And you?" Paul looked at me. "Ready to train?"
"Always."