Anti Netotare Villian

Upon hearing a sudden explosive noise erupt from the direction of the training grounds, the guards reacted immediately, their instincts kicking in. Without hesitation, they sprinted toward the source of the sound, fully prepared for the worst. Their minds raced, assuming the worst—that someone had infiltrated the estate, intending to harm their master, Reich.

"Move faster!" barked the old man who led them, his voice gruff and urgent. Though his age was apparent, his sharp eyes and commanding presence left no doubt that he was their superior. The guards obeyed without question, their collective footsteps pounding against the ground as they rushed to the training grounds.

When they finally arrived, swords drawn and poised for battle, they stopped in their tracks. The tension in their muscles evaporated almost instantly. Instead of an intruder or an assassin lurking in the shadows, they were met with the sight of their master, Reich, calmly practicing his sword techniques. The loud crash that had sent them scrambling was nothing more than the result of his intense training.

Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the guards relaxed. There was no imminent danger, no deadly foe—just their master, honing his skills with the blade.

Reich, initially oblivious to their arrival, blinked in confusion as he noticed the group gathered at the edge of the training field. He was momentarily bewildered by their presence, unsure why they had come rushing in. It wasn't until he connected the dots that he realized his own actions had drawn them out. A faint chuckle escaped his lips as the realization dawned on him.

"Hah, I'm sorry," Reich said, lowering his sword and offering an apologetic smile. "I was just here testing out some new techniques. I didn't mean to cause such a commotion."

The guards exchanged glances, clearly taken aback. They had expected a scolding or, at the very least, a dismissive wave, perhaps even an order to get lost. Yet, here was their master, apologizing to them—a rarity.

'The rumors were true, after all. There really has been a change in him,' thought Barak, the old man in charge of the guards. He stood back, watching Reich with a critical eye, noting the subtle shifts in his behavior.

The rest of the guards, still mildly surprised by the apology, slowly began to disperse, their presence no longer needed. As they turned to leave the training grounds, Reich's voice cut through the air again.

"Barak, stay for a moment," he called out.

The guards halted, waiting for further instructions, but Reich only waved them off. "The rest of you are dismissed."

They hesitated for a beat before bowing and departing, leaving the old man, Barak, standing alone with his master.

"As you wish, Master," Barak said, bowing deeply in respect. Though his curiosity was piqued, he kept his expression neutral. "Is there something you need my help with?"

Reich gave a slight nod, his eyes gleaming with an unusual intensity. "Yes. Take your stance. I'd like to spar."

Barak hesitated, his brow furrowing in concern. "But, Master, your injuries haven't fully healed yet..."

Reich flexed the wrist that held his sword, rotating it with ease. "There's no need to worry. I've never felt better."

Though his injuries had, in truth, fully healed the night he arrived in this world—thanks to the mysterious powers of his system—he hadn't shared this with anyone. Revealing the truth would only invite questions and suspicions that he preferred to avoid. For now, everyone still believed he was recovering.

"If you're not going to attack first, then I'll take the initiative," Reich said, smirking as he kicked up a cloud of dust and dashed forward with lightning speed.

The suddenness of the move caught Barak off guard, but only for a split second. His reflexes, honed through years of experience, took over as he swiftly drew his sword. The sharp clang of metal on metal rang out as Barak blocked Reich's strike just in time, sparks flying from the collision.

"That's more like it, Barak!" Reich said with a grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement. A slight smirk played at the corner of his lips, the thrill of combat evident in his expression.

Barak, despite the surprise, remained composed. "Master almost caught me off guard," he said, his voice calm as he steadied himself.

And so, their duel began. What followed was not merely a sparring session but an intricate dance of swords, a testament to their skill and discipline.

Clang Cling

The sharp, metallic sound of their swords clashing echoed throughout the estate, reverberating off the walls. Servants and guards alike paused momentarily at the sound, their curiosity piqued by the unusual intensity of the fight. But none dared approach. They knew better than to interrupt. After all, each had their own duties, and straying from their tasks would result in punishment—punishment so severe that mere words couldn't describe it.

With every clash of their blades, sparks flew through the air, the energy of their duel palpable. Despite his superior strength, Reich was holding back, careful not to reveal the full extent of his abilities. He was still pretending to be in recovery, after all. The last thing he wanted was to raise suspicions.

Yet, even while holding back, Reich's skill was undeniable. His footwork was deceptive, appearing slow and deliberate, but in reality, it was impossible to predict. Every time Barak thought he had an opening, Reich would strike from an unexpected angle. His movements were a blend of precision and illusion, a masterful display of swordsmanship.

Barak, though not as powerful, was no less skilled. His movements were fluid, his steps heavy yet graceful, like a bird gliding across the ground. Each strike he delivered was calculated, and his defense was nearly impenetrable. The two were evenly matched, though for entirely different reasons.

Back and forth they went, attacking and parrying, neither gaining the upper hand. Sweat poured from their bodies, dripping onto the ground as their duel continued. Their swords never faltered, but it was clear that neither man was close to breaking the other's defense.

After what felt like an eternity, Reich called out, "Let's stop here."

Though they had sparred intensely, there was no point in exhausting themselves any further. They were at an impasse, equally matched for now. Reich, knowing there was no need to deplete his stamina completely, sheathed his sword.

Barak, breathing heavily, followed suit, bowing his head respectfully. "As you wish, Master."

Reich smiled faintly.

*****

You thought I was dead and dropped the novel but you were wrong sooo wrong. I am the always two step ahead. This was the greatest social experiment of my life...

Anyways I am back that's all I want to say.

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