“Take a hit for once!”
William charged like a beast.
Boom! Boom!
Everywhere his fists struck, things shattered. Stone walls crumbled, trees snapped, the air cracked with thunder, and the ground caved in.
But not once did he touch Edward. Each punch missed by the smallest margin.
“You’re slow.”
William wasn’t cursed with slowness. He wasn’t pulling his punches. Edward knew well the power and speed a four-star aura user could unleash.
The shockwaves alone proved William was serious. The alcohol on his breath didn’t seem to dull him either—no drunk could throw punches this precise.
Is this… time itself?
To Edward, William’s attacks looked slowed just enough for him to react. Each swing dragged as if caught between moments, then snapped back to normal once it passed.
If William wasn’t slower, and Edward wasn’t faster, then only one possibility remained.
The Eye of God was bending time.
“Raaagh!”
William suddenly lunged, tackling low. Edward anticipated it, leapt, and vaulted over him.
Now!
As he passed overhead, he planted his heel on the back of William’s head.
Thud!
William’s face slammed into the dirt.
“Damn it!”
Crash!
He pounded the ground in fury, sending dust clouds skyward. The earth cratered like it had taken a siege stone.
Spit!
He rose, hurling a gob of muddy saliva aside.
Edward used the pause to glance between William and Logan.
Grade-2 Farmer; potential Grade-1 Soldier, Grade-4.
So Logan wasn’t fated to farm after all. His build had always suggested as much.
Then William.
Grade-4 Warrior with potential for Grade-9. Grade-1 General with potential for Grade-8. Grade-2 Lord with potential for Grade-7. Grade-2 Bard with potential for Grade-5…
A monster. A talent that could rival the Execution Squad themselves if properly cultivated.
What a freak…
Edward couldn’t help but grin. The idea that such a man existed in this backwater, and that he was of Griffith blood, thrilled him.
Despite his rough exterior, William’s soul wasn’t overly tainted either. He wasn’t pure like Frederick, but he wasn’t irredeemable.
I’ll tame him. No matter what.
Edward wanted loyal followers, comrades who kept their oaths. Wild beasts or treacherous villains, no matter how skilled, had no place by his side. To use William, his violent nature had to be broken.
“You’re laughing?”
William mistook Edward’s grin for mockery, eyes flashing.
“I laughed at how pitiful you are.”
“Must be some black magic trick. Let’s see how long you last.”
“Ever think it might just be your lack of skill?”
“What?”
Snarling, William drew his sword. His killing intent pressed down like a storm, making even the villagers who had come to gawk stagger back.
“Everyone, get back. Take him with you.”
Edward gestured to the unconscious Logan. The villagers dragged him away, their eyes heavy with worry—not the faces of people enjoying a brawl.
“I’ll kill you.”
William’s voice was a growl.
“Do it if you can.”
William’s sword lashed out in a frenzy. But like his fists, it struck only air.
Destructive, yes. But hollow.
Good thing he’s still raw.
Even with the Eye, the danger was real. Only Edward’s past life’s experience let him slip through each deadly strike.
To ordinary eyes, William looked like a monster. But to Edward, who had survived countless battles in the Demon King’s war, he was just an unripe fruit.
No foundation at all.
With training, he could become a Swordmaster in a year. His potential was terrifying. But his basics—stance, form, control—were a mess. Until now, raw power and speed had carried him. Against Edward, it wasn’t enough.
I see everything.
The twitch of an eye, the shift of a gaze, the flex of muscle, the angle of steel to bone—Edward read it all in an instant, tracing William’s every move before it happened.
“Fight back! Or will you just keep dodging?”
Frustration twisted William’s face.
His aura, his stamina—they’re monstrous.
Anyone else would have tired long ago. William showed no sign of slowing. Dodging and retreating, Edward led the fight into the village square.
“No courage to cross blades?”
Such childish taunts wouldn’t provoke Edward. But to end this, he would need to meet the blade at least once.
He thought back to a knight he had once fought beside in the Execution Squad—Bradamante, the Knight of the River.
Her title was often mocked—Edward himself had called her the Knight of Filth or Cold Water—but she had been one of their ten finest. A master of the flowing sword, turning every attack aside like water. Her nickname came from that style.
Even she hadn’t been able to deflect the Demon King’s blade.
This will be my first time imitating her.
Edward adjusted his stance. It wasn’t mere mimicry—he possessed Bradamante’s skill itself. His body wasn’t as strong as hers, but his technique was flawless.
I’ll end this in one strike.
He whispered a petrification spell into his blade’s hilt. Normally it hardened the skin like stone for defense, but Edward used it differently.
His circle spun fast, coating the weapon’s grip in a dull gray sheen.
“Die!”
By the time William came roaring in, Edward was ready.
***
“Steward! Something’s wrong!”
“Hans? What is it?”
“In the village square—the young lord is fighting William.”
“What? The young lords?”
The color drained from Frederick’s face.
“When did Master William arrive?”
“I don’t know. I only heard he beat Logan up at the tavern.”
“Why Logan?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
To the villagers, William was a natural disaster. Edward, even in a foul mood, only snapped at people. William hurled abuse and his fists.
And there was no one in the domain who could stop him. Since childhood, William had been known for inhuman strength and toughness. If he lost his temper, not even the lord or the knight-captain could restrain him.
The baron had cast him out, but William came and went as he pleased. Each time, the villagers trembled.
“How did he end up fighting Young Lord Edward?”
“Edward stepped in to stop him from hitting Logan.”
After William’s disgrace, the villagers stopped using honorifics for him. Their hostility ran that deep. Frederick had always found that sad.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Frederick sprinted toward the village. He heard Hans pounding after him, but as Frederick—an aura user—pushed harder, Hans fell behind.
Please let him be safe.
Frederick’s chest tightened.
Edward’s health had improved, yes—but he was still ill. William’s monstrous body was infamous. This wasn’t a fight at all. All Frederick could hope was that Edward wouldn’t be badly hurt.
He reached the square in a rush. A crowd had gathered.
“Stand back!”
Even at his shout, they stood transfixed, as if in a trance.
“Move!”
Frederick shoved through bodies and stepped into the ring.
“My lord!”
His cry didn’t reach them.
William raised his sword high to smash Edward’s skull. Edward met it with his own blade.
KWA-RAAAAAANG!
Light flared where steel met steel, and aura exploded.
Frederick braced for Edward’s sword to snap, for the young lord to be hammered into the ground.
But—
Edward’s blade traced a graceful curve, letting the falling guillotine of a strike slide past.
He turned with it, body flowing to the side. William’s explosive power was borrowed, spun into Edward’s rotation.
William’s target vanished; he lurched, off-balance.
Edward completed his turn, got behind him, and drove his sword’s pommel into the back of William’s neck, using the momentum.
Thud!
“Guh—!”
The blow landed right on the carotid.
No…!
Trained in unarmed combat, Frederick knew the precision of that strike. But William was a four-star aura user, wrapped in a thick shield. Edward shouldn’t have been able to breach it.
Flop!
William collapsed face-first and didn’t rise. He didn’t even twitch.
…How?
Frederick noticed the sword’s grip—stained a dull gray—and felt strong magic pulsing from it.
Petrification? He used magic?
Impossible. Edward had no circle. Without one, a mage could cast only the lowest spells—and weakly at that. Even during those dangerous experiments with grimoires, Edward had needed substitutes and reagents to mimic a circle.
Yet that petrification wasn’t low-grade, and it had pierced a four-star aura shield—with nothing else assisting it.
…When did he—?
Frederick reeled.
It wasn’t just the magic. The movement itself had been shocking: letting a powerful strike flow past, borrowing its force to spin, slipping behind, and striking the nape.
Each motion had been as natural as flowing water, the lines of blade and body painting a single, elegant stroke.
Complete swordsmanship.
That was Frederick’s verdict. This was a polished style, honed by thousands of drills and dozens of real battles. No beginner lucked into that.
He’s a genius. Our young lord is a genius.
Gooseflesh prickled up his arms.
“Woooaaah!”
“Long live the young lord!”
When they realized William was truly unconscious, the villagers erupted, surrounding Edward like he was a hero who had slain a monster. Frederick felt a pang at the sight.
“Wait.”
Edward raised a hand, and the cheering died.
“Where’s Logan?”
“Here!”
Hans raised his hand from within the crowd. He was tending to Logan, who lay on the ground.
Edward strode over and checked Logan’s condition.
“Take him to the herbalist. Mix sky-thistle with spider forget-me-not and have him drink it. I’ll cover the cost.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Hans and several others lifted Logan and hurried away.
When did he learn herbcraft too?
Frederick marveled—and so did the villagers, judging by their faces.
“Frederick.”
Edward spotted him.
“Yes, my lord.”
Frederick hurried over.
“Give me a hand.”
Edward hooked William’s arm over his neck and hauled him up.
“Sir?”
“We can’t leave him here.”
Frederick blinked. No one in the domain despised William more than Edward. Edward had never treated him as a brother—only as tainted blood to be scorned. That scorn had helped shape what William had become.
“Yes, my lord.”
Frederick took William’s other arm. Together, they lifted him.
The villagers stared, baffled.
“To the manor.”
“The manor? My lord, the baron ordered that Master William not be admitted.”
“I’m acting lord now. I’ll speak to Father. For now, we’re taking him in.”
“…Understood, my lord.”
Frederick couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The young lord had changed.
Cliche Novel 