Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator

A week passed since Julius had left.

As Julius headed towards the Capitol, Allen returned to behaving as normal, as if nothing had even happened.

In the mornings, he learned swordsmanship from Vestla, and after that, he practiced musical instruments as a hobby. In the afternoons, he studied what he needed to learn as the successor of the family and researched magic in a small workshop within the manor—in between, he went to tea time with his mother and secretly checked in with Inellia.

Allen’s lifestyle was routine, such that nobody would ever suspect a thing. Even Gaielle, who was keeping a silent yet close watch on him, never caught on.

And, quite the same, the eighth morning began. 

⟬You’ve been so thorough in your training lately, but all of a sudden, you’re losing focus on the basics. That’s probably because you’ve never learned swordsmanship before, isn’t it?⟭

It was swordsmanship-learning time with Vestla at the moment.

⟬I don’t think it’s bad, per se. You’re doing just fine.⟭

As he began to express his concern with her statement, Vestla began to speak in a tone as if she were teaching the basics. 

⟬The foundation of swordsmanship is ‘to strike without being hit.’⟭

She and Allen stood in the training field dedicated for their use only. 

⟬A sword is shorter than a spear, no? If you’re to attack each other over a long distance, then it’d be most imperative to distance yourself from your opponent.⟭

Allen listened intently to Vestla’s enthusiastic instructions.

⟬So, because of that, if your opponent can escape your range, you can’t attack. But…⟭

She immediately contradicted her aforementioned foundation.

⟬That doesn’t apply for us.⟭

Hiss!

Vestla’s blade grazed Allen’s skin.

⟬What’s the reason for avoiding a sword? It’s to avoid injury, of course. Flesh can be cut by a blade. But me?⟭

A single coagulated drop of blood that came from Allen’s flesh instantly disappeared, as if it had never existed.

⟬See? Quickly, it resets. Ordinary blades wouldn’t work on you, either. You wouldn't be hurt even if it weren’t me.⟭

At that, Allen felt nothing but sympathy. She was saying that with his body, he’d never receive even a single scratch. 

⟬So, of course, you shouldn’t care whether or not an attack lands.⟭

Coming to her conclusion, she said to Allen:

⟬So you really don’t need to pay much attention to your technique.⟭

“…But isn’t technique important anyway?”

As he recalled training with the knights of the manor, Allen returned with a question to which she refuted with a snort.

⟬Could you withstand the punch of an ogre?⟭

“If I learn swordsmanship, then perhaps someday…”

⟬Wouldn't it be better to just dodge the punches and look for opportunities to strike?⟭

“I…”

⟬With a body like yours, isn’t it possible to always aim for a counterattack?⟭

He was at a loss for words. Vestla had explained it calmly, as if to a child. 

⟬Allen, technique only comes into play when you're dealing with opponents of similar strength to you. In the face of overwhelming force, it’s useless, isn’t it?⟭

Vestla altered her size.

The now-gigantic sword swung itself around, taking down a column. Her size increased so much that she obscured everything else in their surroundings, making it apparent the uselessness of technique among other things.

⟬There are different levels of strength between humans—and between each race, too. Between an average knight—like you—and an ogre’s arm, which would be the first to cave?⟭

Vestla stopped her attacks and returned to her normal size.

⟬If every living thing had a body like yours, it’d be possible for swordsmanship to revolve around skill and skill alone, but… that’s just not how it is, now is it?⟭

Allen nodded blankly. After making several rounds around Allen, she returned to her place in front of him.

⟬So, the one thing you need to think about is ‘strength.’⟭

“Strength…”

How many times had this word circled around in his head? The swordsmanship that Vestla had begun to teach him was slightly different from the notion that had vaguely existed in his mind. It was more simplistic.

⟬Your body is outstanding, so you don’t really have a need to dodge attacks. You can just ignore them and focus on returning your own properly executed attacks.⟭

Ignore the little cuts and bruises. You would recover quickly enough. Same for the other attacks—if they could be withstood, then pay them no heed.

‘Only overwhelming strength can crush everything.’

⟬That’s really all I have to teach you as the sword of a giant.⟭

As he learned from the sword, he became certain of it: he was right to have brought Vestla with him.

‘If I’d left the sword, I wouldn’t have gotten to learn how to properly use this new body.’

In a short time, he’d learned the way of the sword from her. But he could sense that she had a tremendous wealth of knowledge about swords. As he listened to her sermons, Allen asked every question that came to mind.

“Then… are there any super-secret techniques you could teach me?”

There were hundreds of swordsmen on the market—in such a population, there may not have been any unique, interesting characteristics. But when it came to the aristocracy, swordsmanship was different.

“Something where with one cut, thunder booms in the sky—or something where swords rain down. Is there anything like that?”

Members of the aristocracy were able to inspire gusts of wind, or create flames. There were endless possibilities when it came to magic. Surely, the giants had a swordsmanship technique of their own.

Vestla paused at his question, before beginning to speak:

⟬Actually, there is one thing I’d like to teach you…⟭

She hesitated and blurted out her words, unable to overcome Allen's undying stare.

⟬Do you remember when we were in the underground waterways?⟭

“The waterways? Well…”

He reminisced on the day that he returned to the city, beating the thieves in the underground waterways. 

⟬I asked you if you had some time to spare while we were there.⟭

“Yeah.”

What had she been asking about so vaguely?

⟬The truth is, I’ve been changing my vision for you since then. But…⟭

“But?”

⟬It’s too hard. You’re too different from us from the start, sizewise. I’m sorry, but I think it’s going to take a lot more time to fix this.⟭

She said what she had to say with an apologetic tone. It hadn’t occurred to Allen.

‘It’s enough to have been able to have realized how to use this body already.’

Any more than this would be taking advantage of her good will.

'Is it possible to modify the original skill as needed?'

Allen, who didn’t really know anything about swordsmanship, could tell how complicated and convoluted her work was. 

‘Was she being honest when she was bragging about being a genius?’

No matter how genius she was, Allen hadn’t thought that she’d be able to fix him in such a short period of time. Even if she’d been telling the truth, it wouldn't be possible to settle it all in a matter of days.

“It’s alright.”

He wasn't going to rush her.

“It’s not that urgent, anyway.”

There wouldn’t be any real potential for combat until Julius returned. 

‘Has that bastard saved that lost lady by now?’

While on his way to the royal capital, he accidentally saved the daughter of a court aristocrat in a dangerous situation. After that, he returned to her kingdom and got caught up in the drama of her family, and ended up helping establish her as her family’s heir.

‘Then, he fights the enemy who broke into the auction house, gets swept away in some issue with the black market, and meets a princess who hid her identity…’

Anyway, it’d take at least another month for him to return.

“I won’t rush you, so please, relax.”

⟬Wow! It’ll be a difficult fix, so, thank you for your patience!⟭

As she smiled broadly and expressed her gratitude, Allen smiled faintly and lifted his training sword, which had been lying on the ground.

“Then let’s start training, shall we.”

Suddenly, a question came to mind.

“Ah, by the way, what is the name of the technique you want to teach me?”

⟬Its name is [J?tunnsverd]. It’s a technique composed of a total of nine forms.⟭

* * *

Allen continued to learn from Vestla.

He began to take stance unconsciously according to his opponent’s attacks, while developing the courage to ignore any attack that came into contact with his body. Even with the overly violent attacks that he used to hesitate at, he learned to pay them no mind.

As he mindlessly moved about, someone knocked on the door of their training area.

Knock, knock.

* * *

* * * 

“Sir Allen, it’s time.”

“Already?”

As he shouted for her to come in, Inellia stepped forward to approach Allen.

“Good work, sir.”

Allen accepted the water bottle she handed to him, receiving her hand as it wiped off his face and neck with a familiar expression.

Vestla had remained silent in Allen's hand since Inellia’s knocking at the door.

“What is Linbelle doing?”

Trying to erase her dark expression, Inellia responded:

“She’s been training since she returned. Perhaps if you called for her, sir…”

Alllen shook his head.

“No, it’s alright.”

It was Allen who would award her a break. On Mount Nicaea, he’d checked the results of her training performance, so he was able to quickly come to a final judgment.

‘Her skills are improving drastically.’

She had already reached a state where she could defeat Allen if they fought purely with swords. So, Allen decided that it’d be easier for her to grow on her own than have her follow his lead.

‘…Although, she did seem to be in a little bit of a shock from her first kill.’

But she’d surely get over it in no time. 

Although different from her body now, the image of her accomplishments from her previous life was so strongly embedded into Allen's mind that he trusted her more than himself. So, he didn't worry much about her. He didn't think she would break down. 

Instead, Allen was worried about something else.

‘Will Linbelle be able to realize her potential in prana in this lifetime…?’

Prana was a special kind of strength. Even rarer than mana, those who could wield the noble power of prana were praised as the truest of knights.

‘First, we’ll have to wait and see how it goes until going off to the Academy.’

Deep down, he wanted to wait until she realized prana on her own, but if she didn’t make any progress by the time he had to leave, he’d have to let her just use magic. To accomplish what he was aiming to get done at the Academy, her growth was essential.

‘I have a few plans ready, but…’

The most favorable outcome would be for her to become strong herself.

“Linbelle will overcome everything, so there’s no need to worry too much.”

“…Is that so? The fact that she hasn’t had even one break… No, oh, please excuse me, sir. That was presumptuous of me. I apologize.”

Allen—in an attempt to console Inellia, who was riddled with excess concern—began:

“Everything will be alright. Linbelle won't collapse at this level. Nevertheless… you may check in on her if you’re still concerned.”

“…In that case, would it be all right if I asked you a favor?”

"Sure, it’s natural for a parent to worry for their children. By the way…”

Allen encouraged her, whose deep concern for her daughter was apparent in her eyes alone, as he widened his sensing range.

'Okay, there’s nobody else in the area.'

After confirming that there was no movement around the training grounds, Allen leaned over and opened his mouth.

“How did it go?”

Inellia wiped the smile from her lips at Allen's question, quietly approached him, and whispered in his ear:

"I’ve completed my research on the 'target' you assigned me."

At that, Allen asked with a cautious look:

“How big have they become? What is he doing and where is he?”

Inellia had no idea why he wanted to meet him. However, as a maid, it was her duty to oblige by his command. She did what he asked her to do without question.

“On the surface, it was nothing more than a gathering of city gangsters… but it isn’t so. You can check the details in the report.”

She handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

"Also, he's been staying at the same tavern for several days. Though, if he leaves now, you should be able to meet within three days.”

'Haven't I prepared properly by now?' 

The timing was right.

“Shall I prepare a carriage?”

Allen thought of the person he’d soon come to meet in the future and replied immediately.

“Prepare one at once.”

To begin exacting revenge on Julius.

One of the countless people who’d expressed opposition to him in his previous life, and a spokesman for those seeking revenge. A man who would lose everything to the present day’s Julius and would come to dream of revenge once more.

‘Acanders Fern.’

It was time to meet him.