Chapter 6

Chapter 6
## Chapter 6

The knight’s calm expression splintered, his eyebrows twitching with irritation.

It was obvious that his ego had been bruised by the interaction.

Attempting to maintain a facade of politeness, the warrior gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders.

“Haha, you certainly possess a sharp wit. I am Hendrik, the man who personally oversaw your fundamental training back then, Third Young Master.”

“Is that the case? My memory of such an event is nonexistent.”

Upon hearing those blunt words, the knight, Hendrik, watched as his own face twisted in sudden shock.

It appeared he was genuinely stunned that Lucian failed to recognize him.

In truth, it wasn’t a matter of a fading memory; the two had simply never crossed paths in this life.

“Ahem. Be that as it may, what is the purpose of your visit?”

“Does one require a formal justification to step onto the training grounds?”

“Not necessarily, but I was merely curious. Given that only a year has passed since the Second Young Master gave you a harsh lesson, I didn’t anticipate your return so soon.”

Lucian’s expression darkened at the tone, which was utterly devoid of the deference due to his rank.

What could have transpired a year ago to embolden a common knight to speak with such insolence?

Lacking the specific details of his predecessor’s past, he realized he would have to fish for the truth.

“I wouldn’t characterize it as ‘only’ a year; I’d say a full year has gone by. It would be foolish to shun the training grounds indefinitely over a past grievance. I intend to be a frequent visitor moving forward, if only to master a swordsmanship style.”

“A swordsmanship style? You, Third Young Master?”

“I admit I’ve been lax in my physical disciplines until now, but I am merely sixteen. Surely the window of opportunity hasn’t closed yet?”

The ‘Path of Mana’ within the human frame typically remains viable until approximately the age of twenty-five.

Until that threshold is reached, an individual can adopt a swordsmanship style and transition into the life of a knight at any moment.

the primary complication was that a delayed start meant the internal channels had constricted, making the subsequent training grueling beyond measure.

Despite Lucian citing a basic biological fact, Hendrik erupted into a boisterous, mocking guffaw.

“Haha, you truly are a comedian! At your current age, the chance has long since vanished! To imagine you starting a swordsmanship style at this stage!”

“Passed me by? At sixteen?”

“Precisely. Sword training must fundamentally commence before the age of fifteen to bear any real fruit. If you begin at sixteen, you’ll achieve nothing more than a slightly more robust physique.”

“That strikes me as odd. According to my understanding, the Path of Mana does not seal itself entirely until one reaches twenty-five.”

Hendrik’s composure slipped for a fraction of a second, though he masked it instantly.

He smoothed over the lapse with a practiced smile and spoke with a tone of mock sincerity.

“While it is factual that the Path of Mana seals after twenty-five, by the time you reach sixteen, it has already tightened as much as it ever will. To claim one can begin at this age is nothing but the desperate delusions of those who have already missed their chance to become masters of the blade.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

“It is.”

Pure nonsense.

Lucian suppressed the insult that nearly escaped his lips.

Claiming sixteen was too late to begin a swordsmanship style?

By that logic, what would he have been in his previous existence?

He had carved a path through war zones crowded with elite knights using a combat style he hadn’t even begun to learn until he was well past twenty.

He didn’t even need to rely on his own past life to disprove the lie.

The annals of history were brimming with legendary knights who picked up the sword late in life and still etched their names into the scrolls of fame.

If this man was insisting that sixteen was too old, there were only two possible explanations.

Either this knight was ignorant of the most elementary principles of his profession, or he was lying through his teeth on purpose.

‘Unless he is a complete fraud who hasn’t even mastered the basics of his craft, it can’t be ignorance. Therefore, it is a deliberate deception.’

The mystery was the motive behind the falsehood.

A commoner might be easily misled, but among the martial classes, this was common knowledge.

Even if he successfully tricked Lucian for a moment, the lie would inevitably be exposed.

Yet, here he was, acting with complete confidence and taking such a reckless risk.

“It appears the education you received and the knowledge I hold are at odds, Sir Knight.”

“Whatever do you mean? This is basic knowledge known to everyone. If you find my words doubtful, why not verify them with the Second Young Master?”

“The Second… you mean my brother?”

The Second Young Master of the House of Valdek, Jordi Valdek.

In Lucian’s previous life, this was the individual who had engaged in a ruthless struggle for the inheritance against his elder sibling, the First Young Master.

Lucian hadn’t interacted with him frequently, but he remembered the man’s methods as being consistently shady and manipulative.

‘He had a habit of recruiting outsiders, squeezing every bit of utility out of them, and then discarding them without compensation.’

During his tenure in the city guard, one of Lucian’s duties had been to hold back the crowds of those who had been used and abandoned in such a fashion.

They had fulfilled their end of the bargain, only to be told to vanish instead of receiving their pay—it was only natural they would be driven to desperation, regardless of the status of the man who cheated them.

In those days, Jordi would simply observe the chaos from a safe distance and laugh, but for Lucian, who was tasked with standing in the gap, it was a nightmare.

This was particularly true because, on occasion, those discarded workers were warriors far more skilled than the average soldier.

“Indeed. Surely you aren’t suggesting that the Second Young Master is mistaken?”

When Lucian remained silent, Hendrik—assuming the boy was cowed—allowed a mocking smirk to pull at the corners of his mouth.

In that moment, Lucian finally grasped the nature of the game being played.

‘They were conspiring to turn me into a laughingstock.’

The plan was to feed him false information so he would make a fool of himself in front of others.

If he resisted the lie, they would invoke the name of the brother he was supposed to fear to silence his objections.

And if Jordi’s name was ever brought into question, the knight would simply deny everything and claim he never made such statements.

The end result would be the same: the “Idiotic Third Young Master” who couldn’t even grasp fundamental common sense.

‘Truly pathetic.’

The pettiness of the scheme was almost comical, but the most shocking part was the audacity of the target.

To attempt such a blatant manipulation on the son of the lord he was sworn to serve.

It was evident that the knight either had powerful protection or was acting as a proxy for someone else’s malice.

Regardless, it was of little consequence to Lucian.

“If your claims are accurate, then I am deeply troubled. Does this mean my brother is ignorant of facts that even a small child would comprehend? Is my brother truly that much of a dimwit?”

To the battle-hardened Lucian, this brand of harassment was so predictable it was almost boring.

“….”

“….”

Following Lucian’s blunt remark, an oppressive silence blanketed the training grounds.

Even the other knights, who had been focused on their own drills, paused to stare with wide eyes.

Hendrik gaped at Lucian, looking as though he couldn’t process what he had just heard.

“W-what did you just say?”

“I asked if my brother is genuinely a fool who lacks basic common sense. That sixteen is too late to begin learning a style? Is that really the kind of nonsense that should be coming from a noble of this house?”

“Are you openly questioning the Second Young Master’s intelligence?”

Hendrik tried to intimidate him with a glare, but Lucian didn’t flinch.

Instead, he pressed his palms to his face in a melodramatic display of grief.

“I find it hard to credit. It implies my brother actually uttered such stupidity. Oh, what a disaster! To think the lineage of Valdek has produced such a dullard! This is a catastrophic stain on our family’s reputation!”

As Lucian’s voice grew more theatrical and accusatory, Hendrik’s jaw dropped.

He had never anticipated that Lucian would have the courage to openly mock Jordi, leaving him completely at a loss for words.

After maintaining the facade of distress for a few moments, Lucian turned his gaze back to Hendrik as if struck by a sudden realization.

“Wait, upon further reflection, this seems unlikely. Sir Knight, is it possible that you are the one playing a dangerous game?”

“P-playing a game?”

“I am asking if you are intentionally defaming a member of the House of Valdek by attributing such idiocy to him. Surely you aren’t operating under the influence of a rival family to ruin my brother’s name, are you?”

“What kind of madness is this…!”

It was an outrageous accusation.

To link a simple piece of misinformation to a conspiracy involving rival houses was insane.

“Cease this ridiculous talk, Third Young Master! Do you intend to insult my honor?!”

“Insult you? You are the one who needs to provide an explanation! Who is responsible for such a moronic claim? Was it my brother? Or was it a fabrication of your own making? Which is it?!”

Thump! Lucian struck his walking stick firmly against the dirt.

Hendrik was being pushed toward a mental breakdown.

If he stood by the claim, he would be branding the Second Young Master a fool; if he admitted the truth, he would be admitting to being a liar or a spy.

And if he tried to dismiss it as a mere joke, he would be labeled as a subordinate who dared to mock his master’s child.

‘This is impossible. Why is this weakling, who used to shake at the mere mention of the Second Young Master, suddenly being so aggressive?’

Trapped in a corner, Hendrik’s eyes darted around frantically.

Just as Lucian prepared to press him again in the absence of a reply—

“What is the meaning of this commotion?”

“S-Second Young Master!”

Hendrik immediately lowered his head in a deep bow toward the arrival.

His posture was vastly more respectful than anything he had shown toward Lucian.

‘Jordi Valdek.’

At twenty years old, he was Lucian’s second older brother, four years his senior.

He possessed the handsome features typical of a high-born youth, though his sharply angled eyes gave him a predatory and harsh appearance.

He was the sibling Lucian had encountered most frequently in his previous life.

Since most of those memories involved unpleasantness, Lucian felt absolutely no kinship with him.

Jordi surveyed the scene with cold, analytical eyes before locking onto Lucian.

“Is it you causing trouble again? Lucian.”

Again?

As Lucian tilted his head in mock confusion, Jordi’s lip curled into a look of disdain.

“You have a great deal of audacity, considering you fled these grounds a year ago because you were too weak to endure my instruction. How shameless do you have to be to come loitering back here?”

At the mention of “instruction,” Lucian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He could easily deduce the reality of what had happened on these grounds.

‘He used the pretext of training to bully him. Or perhaps he simply used him as a punching bag.’

If the original Lucian had endured such treatment, it was no wonder he had avoided this place like the plague.

Of course, to the man Lucian was now, it was irrelevant.

“In the first place, for someone like you to be a Valdek—”

“Your timing is impeccable. I had a matter I needed to clarify, and you showed up just when I needed you.”

Lucian spoke over Jordi, cutting him off before he could continue his tirade.

There was no benefit in allowing the other man to control the flow of the conversation.

Frustrated by the interruption, Jordi’s brow twitched with irritation.

“Where did you acquire the insolence to interrupt me? You truly are a piece of trash!”

“That is secondary right now. We first need to establish whether or not you are an embarrassment to the Valdek lineage.”

“What kind of drivel are you…!”

“I have a single question for you. Did you truly claim that it is impossible to master a swordsmanship style once a person has passed the age of fifteen?”

As Lucian bypassed the posturing and went straight to the heart of the matter, Jordi fell silent.

After a tense pause, Jordi glared at Lucian with eyes full of malice.

“And what if I did? What of it?”

He likely intended the stare to be intimidating, but to Lucian, it was almost laughable.

What threat could a boy who had never seen the horrors of a real battlefield possibly pose with a simple glare?

Lucian smirked and tilted his head to the side.

“What of it? If that is the case, I’ll have to petition Father to have you sent away to a monastery.”

“Excuse me?”

“It would be understandable for a commoner to be so ill-informed, but for a noble who has spent years in training to be ignorant of such basic facts? That doesn’t suggest a lack of talent; it suggests a cognitive defect.”

“…!”

“At the moment, it might just be a case of extreme ignorance, but what if your condition worsens? What if you end up losing control of your basic functions in public? That would be an unacceptable vulnerability for our house, so a monastery is the only solution. You’ll have to spend the rest of your days in seclusion where you won’t be seen.”

The moment Lucian stopped talking, the training grounds fell into a silence so profound you could have heard a pin drop.