The training field stretched wide, surrounded by high stone walls, banners of the [[Valcaryn]] family fluttering in the wind. The grass was neatly trimmed, and several instructors and attendants waited at the edges, ready for orders.
I stepped out of the building, still wearing light yet elegant training clothes, a practice weapon hanging at my waist.
The armed man from before, my bodyguard and instructor named William, guided me to the center of the field. "Young master, today we'll start with basic combat and strategy. Remember, this isn't just physical training—it's about intelligence, reflexes, and the psychological pressure you put on your opponent."
I nodded, staring at my opponent across the field. A senior instructor prepared two wooden swords, while several training dummies were placed as movement targets.
First, we went through warm-ups and basic movements—strikes, parries, footwork. I used the body's past experience, remembering every weakness and strength. Every motion felt natural, as if this body had performed these moves countless times before.
The senior instructor shouted, "Now, it's duel time! Use everything you've got!"
I stepped forward, facing my opponent who held the wooden sword defensively. In an instant, I attacked, combining straight strikes and side swings with swift, slick movements. My opponent parried some attacks, but I began to adjust their rhythm—predicting attacks, holding back, then exploiting openings.
"You're too hasty!" the senior instructor yelled.
Blow after blow continued. I spun, leapt, and shifted my body with precision, using momentum. My opponent began to lose balance after several failed parries, and I seized the opportunity for the finishing move—tapping their shoulder with the sword's edge as a signal: "You're down."
My opponent stepped back, panting, and I remained calm. The senior instructor applauded, "Good. But this is just the beginning. Balance, strategy, and the ability to read your opponent—that's what will make you stand out among other nobles."
I nodded, catching my breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several instructors taking notes—they were evaluating strategy, physical strength, and mental endurance.
"Now, continue with free combat," said the senior instructor. "Use strategy, don't just rely on strength."
I drew another practice sword, facing a larger opponent. This time I deliberately stayed still, passive, observing. By body size alone, it was clear who was stronger, but strength didn't mean superiority.
Memories from my previous life surfaced—scenes where characters would ramble about weak points and openings in their opponent's stance. But what did that really mean?
Finding no answer, I stepped forward and swung my sword. Simultaneously, my opponent swung back, and I was pushed slightly backward.
I advanced again, lowering my body to avoid a direct clash. Using that momentum, I leapt and thrust my sword forward.
My opponent reacted swiftly, stepping back, swinging as a counter. Our swords clashed with a sharp ring, and I was pushed back a little.
"So that's it…" I smiled faintly, realizing something.
Every stance in combat wasn't just for show—they determined the efficiency and power of attacks. But each move left a weak point, moments when posture left someone too open to attack or defend.
I noticed my opponent's shoulder slightly dipping during the attack and their weight resting unevenly on one leg. That was an opening to exploit.
Calmly, I twisted my body and leapt forward. This time my strike hit the opponent's waist, then drove toward the right shoulder, forcing them to parry while losing balance.
I used the momentum to press their wrist with the side of my sword, the weapon slipping from their grip. Without giving them a chance to recover, I swung upward from below, stopping just under their chin.
My opponent froze, fully aware of defeat.
The senior instructor shouted from the sidelines, "Excellent! You didn't just strike—you used strategy to spot weaknesses. This is what separates ordinary fighters from the clever ones!"
I lowered my sword, looking at my panting opponent, a faint smile forming.
Plak Plak Plak—from the side came the sound of applause, and I turned toward its source.
"I didn't expect you to progress this quickly. I know the [[Valcaryn]] family focuses on politics, and it makes sense that combat isn't your preference, but I hope you'll have enough skill to protect yourself," William called out, his expression pleased.
"Now that the sword training is done, let me see how far your magic has progressed," William said confidently as he stepped onto the field.
The senior instructor looked slightly surprised, then nodded lightly. "Don't worry, young master. Even though William is far stronger, I'm sure he'll hold back and won't harm you."
I nodded lightly, fully aware of the fact, yet my curiosity about William's power remained. Mages were divided into 10 sequences:
Sequence 10 — Initiate (Beginner)Sequence 9 — ChannelerSequence 8 — WeaverSequence 7 — AdeptSequence 6 — ArchitectSequence 5 — AscenderSequence 4 — SovereignSequence 3 — ArbiterSequence 2 — ParagonSequence 1 — Absolute
I was at Sequence 9. It was somewhat sad—I suspected most my age were around Sequence 8. Besides, as a noble, their lives weren't fully dedicated to magic.
I immediately launched a fireball with my hand. William countered with water magic, but I sent wind at the fireball.
The fireball expanded rapidly, burning the surrounding area, growing larger and faster.
I was awestruck, seeing magic for the first time—and even more amazed at how majestic it felt to wield it through this body.
Slowly, the flames died down, and William emerged from the blaze unscathed.
"Looks like I haven't taught you everything yet, but don't get complacent—never declare victory until your opponent truly falls," William said. He raised his hand, and several chunks of stone flew toward me.
I laughed softly, my breath shaking with adrenaline.
"Incredible…" I murmured.
Without giving William time to react, I whipped my hands. Wind swirled around my arms, and I launched three small fireballs in quick succession—not straight, but curved, following the wind's push.
The fireballs skimmed low, then shot sharply upward toward William from three different angles.
William raised his hands. Water froze midair, forming a thin shield that blocked two fireballs. But the third—accelerated by the wind—hit the ground near his feet and exploded, forcing him to jump back.
The ground beneath me shifted. Walls of stone rose to close the distance.
"Good," I said with a wide grin.
I inhaled deeply and compressed fire in my palms, then enveloped it in spinning wind. The fire didn't expand—instead, it condensed, glowing white-red.
I swung my arms forward.
The fire shot out like a spinning spear, piercing the stone wall. The rocks shattered, scattering, the remaining pieces burned from within.
William retaliated immediately. The earth around me rose, forming stone chains reaching for my legs, while above, spear-like water shot straight at my head.
I leapt.
Wind exploded under my feet, propelling me into the air. Mid-jump, I spun, lowering my hands.
Flames burst from my palms, spun by the wind into a circle of fire surrounding me. The water spears evaporated before they could reach me, and the stone chains burned and collapsed.
I landed hard, cracking the earth beneath my feet.
My heart pounded. My chest heaved.
I laughed again—this time, without restraint.
"So this is what it feels like to fight with magic…"
I raised both hands. The wind spun wildly around me, lifting dust and embers. Tiny flames danced in the vortex, faster and hotter.
"This technique…" I murmured, feeling the mana flow perfectly in sync.
I released the vortex forward.
The Pressurized Fire Vortex smashed into the field, tearing the ground, scorching the air, forcing William to defend with all his water and earth magic at once.
The training field turned into chaos.
Fire, wind, water, and stone collided endlessly.
I stood amid the chaos, grinning.
Sequence 9 or not—this was the power I wanted.
Through the havoc, I saw William raising a thick earth shield, gleaming in the sunlight.
Without hesitation, I fired another fireball with the same force as before. This time, I twisted it with wind, sending it through a narrow gap in his shield. The fireball struck the opposite side and exploded, spewing embers into the air.
I seized the momentum. Quickly, I channeled wind into my legs, propelling myself high. Mid-air, I spun, combining fire and wind to form a mini fire tornado rushing toward William.
The tornado swept the ground, burning the remaining stones and dust, churning the air.
William frowned, channeling earth and water to resist the attack. But I was exhausted. My breath came in ragged gasps, sweat poured down my body, and my hands trembled from expending too much mana.
"Ck… this isn't how a Sequence 9 should fight…" William murmured, struggling to contain the tornado.
My body felt utterly drained. The wind around me weakened, the spinning fireballs were no longer fierce. The heat and sweat made my vision blur.
William smiled faintly, holding the tornado with his dense earth and water barrier, slowly pushing me back.
I tried to attack again, but my body no longer responded as fast. My legs were heavy, my hands hot and trembling, my breathing labored.
Before I could channel another spell, my head grew heavy, my vision darkened. The tornado in my hands faltered; the once-wild wind and fire now spun weakly in the air.
I slumped to my knees, then fell forward.
"Sequence 9… you really are something else," he murmured softly.
My body collapsed onto the ground, and my consciousness faded completely.