Ren was reborn in this world, and he was a kid that was waiting for his awakening. Sadly, he did not awaken a class. Making him get bullied by his peers. It was a crushing blow to his pride. And so, he vented all his frustration to learning martial arts.
The morning sun had only just crept over the distant hills when Ren was already deep in the training yard, drenched in sweat and concentration.
His steamy breath came in steady huffs as he swung blades, twirled blunts, and lunged like a whirlwind with his pole weapons. His entire body moved like a machine that never rusted. One honed by repetition and mastery.
He wielded multiple weapons at once, his right hand clutched a broadsword, his left held a blunt, and even his mouth bit down on the handle of a dagger, clenched between his teeth like a rabid beast.
The clang of metal echoed as he moved through his routine, never once faltering. The weapons whirled around him in a carefully orchestrated chaos.
It was his daily rotation of weapon styles, mixing offense and defense, and switching grips mid-motion. He was in trance, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction that no one else seemed to understand.
After a few more swings, Ren finally slowed down, breathing heavily as he took a moment to relax. He raised an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, then ran his hand through his hair, combing it upwards in one smooth motion.
His body, while not bulky, was well-toned, lean muscle defined his short frame, the kind that came from years of tireless training. His skin bore the rich tone of someone always under the sun, and the sweat shimmered across his arms like dew on skin.
Despite his age, Ren trained harder than any grown man in the village. Weights were strapped to his ankles, tucked inside his shoes and bracers.
He was training early in the morning, and his sweat glistened by reflecting the daylight. His weaponry used for training was a mix and match. He mastered them all in 3 years' time and now, he was 7 years old, and he was still growing still mastering the same weaponry year after year. The time passed by and he was panting. Sweating in the process as he rested.
He casually touched his weights and set it to 100 kilograms. It was magical and he made it specifically for him. A weight that was made by him, a runemaster and also has limiter functions. He set himself to 10 percent output and so he felt shaky and wobbly all the time.
He drank water and then sat on his chair. Wiping his sweat and then settled calmly. Ren then remembered the past, it was a dark one, he barely could forget them. Haunting him even in his dreams. The Primordial themselves. They were one of the citizens of the Primordial Era of Humanity before the Demons came.
They slaughtered everyone and it was a bloodbath. Making the extinction to start. Ren was the weakest of the Primordials and he died a gruesome death. Waking up, he rebirthed in the future 1000 years later. Also, Eternity was in danger from Demons and as a Primordial, he saw it all. Sin was accumulating, empowering demons in the process.
He could not stop from worrying and even his dreams were affected. He could only curse his predicament. Though worrying will not help him and so he has to prepare for the worst.
Though this time, he has a family. Unlike in the past where he was a street rat. His Father Remlin was a Swordsman, his mother Anna was a Healer. They were both taking care of him and felt the warmth of the term called Family.
He went to exercise one last time before breakfast and felt the lightness of his body. Above him, from the balcony overlooking the yard, his grandfather sat, sipping hot tea. The old man grizzled yet strong looking for his age, wore thick robes and armor inside. The morning breeze was still cold, and it nipped at his joints. He exhaled into his cup before taking another sip. Steam curled from the edges of his every breath.
"Tch," the old man muttered, warming his hands with the ceramic cup. "This cold gets worse every year."
Still, despite the chill, he watched his grandson with pride gleaming in his eyes. It was like staring at a younger version of himself, but better. Faster in learning. Hungrier for growth.
He gently placed the cup on the table beside him, his eyes drifting to an unopened envelope bearing a crimson seal. His hand lingered over it for a moment. A smile slowly crept on his lips as he looked at it, then down again at Ren.
The boy had just finished a sweeping strike with the sword, kicking up a swirl of dust in the air when the old man cleared his throat with a loud ahem.
"Ren." he called out, "Enough slicing the air. Come clean up and meet me at the dining table. We need to talk."
Ren paused mid-stroke, blinking in surprise. He slid the weapons into their racks, wiped his face with a cloth, and jogged off toward the house. "Okay, Grandpa Renji!" he shouted back, cheerful as ever.
After a quick wash and change, he sat across from his grandfather at the long wooden table. His hair was still damp, sticking out in awkward spikes, but his eyes were bright and curious.
"You called?" he asked, mouth half-full with bread already.
The old man rubbed his temples and placed the envelope on the table.
"You've been recommended," he said, eyes narrowing.
Ren tilted his head. "Recommended for what?"
"The Martial Magic Academy," his grandfather replied, voice firm. "You're going."
That bread froze halfway to Ren's mouth.
"I don't wanna go, I am a classless trash!" he said instantly, shaking his head. "I want to keep training here. You saw me earlier! I was about to perfect the weapon styles!"
"Ren.....Ren...."
His grandpa's voice was dangerously low. His hand was twitching. Then came the calm before the storm.
"I did everything to get you that letter. Talked to people I didn't want to talk to. Bent some rules. Even bribed an old colleague with my personal wine stash. And now you say no?"
Ren frowned. "But.…."
"No buts!" the old man roared, grabbing the closest stick he could find—which just so happened to be a cane from the corner of the room. "I'll beat some sense into you if I must!"
With an alarming notion, Ren leapt out of his seat, but not fast enough. A loud whap struck his backside and he howled as he dashed around the table.
"Ow! Grandpa! I'm too old for this!"
"You're too dumb for this too!" he shouted, chasing the boy around the house like a whirlwind. "All you do is train! Do you know how important this is?! That Academy can make you a Renowned Fighter! And all you wanna do is swing swords in the backyard like a madman?"
Eventually, they both collapsed onto the floor, one from exhaustion, the other from laughter.
Ren raised a hand in surrender. "Alright, alright! I'll go! But.....on one condition!"
His grandfather looked at him suspiciously. "What condition?"
"Let me do as I please once I'm there. No rules. No annoying curfews."
The old man stared at him, jaw twitching. He was contemplating now, really thinking. His head trembled like a kettle about to burst from steam.
"This kid…" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're going to blow up the whole damn school."
"I'll behave!" Ren said quickly, putting his hands together like he was praying. "Promise. Just let me be free when I get there."
The silence dragged for a moment longer before the old man groaned, rubbing his forehead then massaging his temples. "Fine. But if I hear even one word about you causing trouble, I'll personally drag you back here and tie you to the well."
"Yes! Deal!" Ren cheered, springing up and pumping his fist in the air. "Rest assured, Grandpa, I'll make you proud!"
The old man gave him a look, half proud, half worried. He sighed.