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‘Not bad. Not bad at all!’

Ian’s breathing was steady. Even though every attack was being blocked, he wasn’t getting flustered.

Dior had tried to disrupt Ian’s flow and break his rhythm by targeting occasional openings, but Ian responded with fluidity.

Certainly.

Compared to two years ago, his skills had improved remarkably.

It wasn’t just because he was his younger brother that Dior thought so; even from an objective standpoint as a level 5 knight, it was undeniable.

‘Has this idiot finally come to his senses?’

Dior remembered the unfortunate incident during the coming-of-age ceremony that had made Ian lose all interest in swords and become a recluse a year ago.

He had found it hard to watch him like that and had told him to stop drinking and get some exercise, maybe even go for a walk outside.

Apparently, Ian had taken the advice to heart and started hunting not long after.

Of course, he still wasn’t touching swords, but seeing him now in a duel, it seemed he hadn’t completely neglected them.

He had clearly put in some effort.

‘Wait a minute. Did he really work hard?’

Dior recalled his conversation with Lord Arot, the steward of the estate, from last night.

Arot had said Ian was known for sleeping in late and being busy drinking while hunting. He had expressed concern that Ian’s idleness might soon tarnish the family’s name, which had been loyally served for generations.

‘Arot wouldn’t lie about something like that.’

Dior glanced around the training grounds. Fallen leaves were scattered here and there, suggesting that the place hadn’t been used recently.

If Ian had been training here daily or even occasionally, the servants would have cleaned up the place, as that was their job.

Since this wasn’t the case, it meant that the training grounds hadn’t been used recently, implying that Ian might have been secretly honing his swordsmanship.

‘Is that even possible?’

Arot was a knight, a level 5 knight at that.

Although he might have grown old and frail, his skill was still known to be considerable. To practice swordsmanship secretly, avoiding the gaze of such a knight and loyal servants of the family?

‘Why would he do that?’

There wouldn’t have been a need to hide his training. If he had really trained diligently, there would inevitably be physical signs of it.

But looking at Ian now, he didn’t seem to have trained much at all.

‘What’s going on?’

If that’s the case, then…

‘Is it pure talent?’

But if he had that much talent, it would have been noticeable long ago. The incident at the coming-of-age ceremony wouldn’t have happened, and he wouldn’t have spent a year as a recluse at the estate.

Could he have gained enlightenment or encountered some fortuitous event later? Dior couldn’t quite understand, but he had no other explanation.

‘I’d like to test him a bit more.’

But Ian’s stamina seemed to be reaching its limit, so it might be best to end it here. However, he wouldn’t just stop half-heartedly.

“Let’s call it a day.”

As Dior said this, he attempted to deftly deflect Ian’s sword with a high-level technique that even seasoned knights would struggle to counter.

Clink! Clink!

“Huh?”

But Ian responded as if he had anticipated this. Dior was thrown off balance, struggling against the intricately tangled swords. He had no choice but to exert excessive force.

“Ugh!?”

Ian let out a grunt. It seemed he was on the verge of winning, but his lack of strength caused his wooden sword to be pushed back weakly.

Taking advantage of the opening, Dior brought his sword down towards Ian.

Of course, he didn’t intend to hit. He planned to stop just short of Ian’s neck. However, Ian made a sudden move, extending his bare hand with a fierce look in his eyes.

‘You crazy bastard!’

Even though the wooden sword wasn’t sharp, it was still dangerous.

Moreover, this was not ordinary wood but ironwood, which was as heavy as metal. It could easily break bones.

Dior, startled, quickly tried to retract his sword, but he could only reduce the force behind it.

Thud!

Without hesitation, Ian caught the wooden sword with his palm. Despite wincing in pain, he immediately pressed the sword against Dior’s neck.

Well, technically, he only tapped it lightly. But Dior wasn’t displeased; instead, he blinked in surprise.

Just now…

The sword touched his neck.

If it had been a real blade, his throat would have been cut.

In other words, this meant defeat.

‘I lost? To this idiot?’

It was hard to accept.

Ian, seeing Dior’s reaction, gently tapped his shoulder with the wooden sword and withdrew.

“I won.”

Dior, who had been momentarily stunned, forced a smile as he raised the corners of his mouth.

“…Hah.”

He had words stuck in his throat but swallowed them with effort, forcing a smile.

“I let you win.”

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I won. Doesn’t it?”

“Want to go again?”

“No, I’m done. I’m tired.”

Ian handed over the wooden sword to Dior, who took it with a bewildered look.

“What’s this?”

“The loser cleans up.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Oh come on, how hard is it to put the sword away? It’s simple. Just take it back.”

“You bastard…”

Leaving Dior, who was now holding one sword in each hand, Ian walked out of the training hall.

Outside the training hall, there were people waiting. The manager and the gamekeeper.

An elderly man with white hair and a wrinkled face stepped forward. He was Lord Arot.

“What’s going on? Why are you here? Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes. We were worried when you weren’t in your room this morning. How is your body? Are you alright?”

“Didn’t you all see everything?”

Arot nodded. In fact, even though he had been watching, he could hardly believe his eyes.

Dior was a level 5 knight. Although he had only recently reached this level, it didn’t mean his skills were lacking.

On the contrary, he was a genius who had reached this level years ahead of others, meaning his understanding of swordsmanship was considerable.

Yet, Ian, who had been living like a recluse and only fooling around, had fought Dior on equal terms and won.

Even considering that Ian hadn’t used magic and Dior had been lenient, it was an unbelievable outcome.

Ian grinned and looked over at the gamekeeper standing beside him.

“Well, you see. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so you don’t need to worry. But, Lord Arot aside, why is Seongjin here?”

“I brought him because he wanted to apologize.”

Ian chuckled.

“It was entirely my fault that I fell from the cliff. There’s no need for apologies. I’m fine. But I’ve sweat a lot and feel sticky. I’d like to take a shower. I’ll go ahead.”

Arot and Seongjin were taken aback by Ian’s words. It was shocking to see the usually immature young master who would always blame others…

Leaving them standing there in a daze, Ian returned to the villa.

He then immediately instructed the servants to have a hearty breakfast prepared by the chef and to get some warm water ready.

After a leisurely bath and changing clothes, Ian headed to the dining room.

In the dining room, two servants were busily moving dishes of food, while Dior was already eating without waiting.

Ian sat down and stared blankly at the various dishes laid out on the table, swallowing his saliva slowly.

“Wow.”

How long has it been since I’ve seen proper food like this?

It reminded him of the time he wandered with the hero. In fact, it hadn’t even been a full day since he returned to the past, so it wasn’t such a distant memory.

Traveling across the lands that had become the Zail Empire, finding proper food had been a rare thing.

Building a fire was sometimes a cautious endeavor as well, since the smell might attract monsters and lead to trouble.

Of course, there had been a mage in their party who could handle spatial magic, so compared to traveling alone, he had been able to enjoy luxurious meals.

However, it was never satisfactory. He couldn’t eat to his heart’s content.

So, perhaps that’s why seeing this abundant spread of food now was particularly moving.

He picked up a knife and fork and immediately cut a large piece of meat, shoving it into his mouth. It was so tender it melted on his tongue as soon as he bit into it.

“Mmm!”

This is the taste. Maybe because he had exercised intensely in the morning, the food went down easily.

Dior, who had entered the dining room late and sat in the prominent seat, looked at him with a disapproving gaze.

“Have you been starving? Eat slowly. It looks unbecoming.”

“This is keeping my dignity just fine. Show me what you think gluttony looks like?”

“Ugh. This idiot. Let’s not talk about it.”

Ian continued to empty his plates with hearty appetite. After watching silently for a while, Dior took a sip of water and spoke.

“Ian.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go back to the family estate.”

“No.”

Ian responded firmly, without a hint of hesitation, as he used a piece of soft white bread to scoop up the remaining sauce from his plate.

“Stop being stubborn. Two years is enough time to fool around. We can’t stay here forever. You know that as well as I do.”

That was true. However, in his previous life, Ian had used the excuse of needing rest to stay at the villa for four years, living in debauchery.

He wasn’t planning to do the same this time, but he couldn’t go back immediately. Dior continued after a brief pause.

“I noticed your swordsmanship earlier. It’s quite impressive. You’re not planning to just let it go to waste, are you? If you delay any further, there’ll be no hope.”

“I know.”

That was a common sentiment among those who had reached level 6 within the hero’s party.

— If I were just a bit younger…

— If only I had worked a little harder when I was younger.

It felt as if their voices were echoing in his ears.

“So what?”

“I do plan to go back to the family estate.”

“Really?”

“I have no intention of living like this forever.”

Ian put a piece of bread soaked in sauce into his mouth. The sweet sauce and soft bread harmonized on his tongue.

But why was Dior, who hadn’t even eaten, wearing a touched expression?

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. A year ago, just mentioning going back to the family estate would have had you looking like a death’s head. It’s amazing how you’ve changed after falling off that cliff. As your older brother, I’m a bit relieved. Since we’re on the topic, let’s plan to head back in the afternoon.”

“I didn’t say I’d go right away. I’ll be staying here for another year.”

Dior’s expression crumpled immediately.

“Why?”

“To work on my body. Lose some weight, build stamina, strengthen my muscles. There’s a lot to do.”

“That can be done at the family estate too, can’t it? It’d be much better than here. The training grounds are much larger, the armory is diverse, and there are equipment to assist with training. Plus, there are people to help with systematic training. In case of emergencies, you’d get immediate treatment. If you want, either Father or I could take time to train you.”

“And Father?”

“Father…”

Dior trailed off and fell silent, his answer indirectly suggesting it would be difficult.

It was understandable. Their father, Granod Berger, was a 7th level warrior, one of the top fighters on the continent.

According to the last letter exchanged with his brothers before the regression, it seemed that Father had progressed from level 7 to level 8, but Ian couldn’t confirm that as he hadn’t seen him.

In any case, mentioning Father was because he wanted high-level instruction.

Their eldest brother, Verdan Berger, like Dior, would later become a vessel of spiritual energy, but for now, he was only at level 5, so he wouldn’t be much help.

Ian asked Dior again, who had sealed his lips.

“Is it really that difficult?”

“Isn’t it too much to ask? Do you really think that just because someone with spiritual energy is teaching you, you’ll jump from level 5 to level 6? Frankly, unless you’re at least at level 5, Father—no, Dad—won’t spare any time for you. Even Verdan and I haven’t had the chance to receive any instruction yet, despite being told it’s still early.”

“That’s why I’m not going back right now. If I went now, it would be hard to gain Father’s recognition. You know that.”

“You reap what you sow, you idiot.”

It was a sharp rebuke that pierced like a dagger to the heart.

Ian forced a wry smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am an idiot. No, I was an idiot. But that idiot died the day I fell off the cliff.”

——–