Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role

Lucien collapsed onto the smooth training mat, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish, the wooden sword clattering from his grip. His chest rose and fell with rapid, ragged breaths. Sweat drenched his clothes and soaked his silver hair, leaving it plastered against his flushed face. His mouth remained open, gulping in every ounce of air his lungs could manage, as though breathing alone could cleanse the ache out of his bones.

The sparring session had ended, but the memory of it clung to his body like a second skin. Lucien didn't move. He didn't even try. He simply lay there, staring up at the glowing ceiling crystals that mimicked the sky. There was no blue hue, no drifting clouds—just a soft, neutral white light. Blank. Silent. Like his mind.

But silence didn't last long.

Why do I feel... sluggish? Lucien thought, his brows furrowing in quiet frustration. His body should be sharper, faster. He had trained his sword style for over four years—an unpredictable, flowing art of freestyling footwork and bladeplay molded by his instincts. He knew how to move. Every dodge, every slash, every spin had once been an extension of his will.

And now? It felt... rusty.

As if someone else had borrowed his body, and he was just along for the ride.

He controlled his breathing, eyes sliding shut. His heart began to steady. Slowly, Lucien sifted through the sensations in his body, probing the places that had felt off. He thought about the training match. He had expected more from himself. His aura had awakened, after all. It was supposed to make him faster, not slower. Stronger, not uncertain.

Maybe... my control of aura is still too raw? he guessed.

After all, aura was new to him. Perhaps it was interfering with his natural rhythm? Creating a delay between his intent and his actions?

But as Lucien turned the idea over in his mind, it didn't sit right. He could feel the aura now—flowing through his veins like blood, rippling beneath his skin like warm waves. He knew the sensation. He hadn't mastered it, but he understood it.

No... that's not it, Lucien realized. Aura enhances. It amplifies. If I make a mistake, it should exaggerate the flaw—but it wouldn't cause sluggishness unless I overused it... and I didn't.

Before Lucien could fall deeper into speculation, a shadow stepped over him.

"You're overthinking," came the familiar, composed voice of Knight Rex.

Lucien cracked open one eye and looked up at the tall figure looming over him, arms crossed casually.

Rex had already put aside his wooden sword, and a small cloth rested over his shoulder. He looked untouched by fatigue, save for the light sheen of sweat on his brow. His posture was as firm as ever—not stiff, but trained. Seasoned.

"I can see it on your face," Rex continued. "You're wondering why your body isn't keeping up."

Lucien slowly nodded. "...Yeah. My movements felt... wrong. Slower. Like I couldn't keep up with myself. Even though I've trained this style for years."

Rex gave a small grunt and sat down cross-legged beside him, setting the cloth on his lap. His sharp gaze softened, if only slightly.

"It's not your aura," he said. "Your control isn't perfect yet, but you're doing well. It's your body."

Lucien blinked. "My body?"

Rex nodded. "You're not used to it."

That answer didn't make sense—not at first. But the knight elaborated.

"During all our years of training, your body was smaller. Lighter. Your center of gravity was different. Your muscles, your frame—they hadn't matured yet. But after awakening... you changed."

Lucien sat up slightly, wincing from the soreness in his lower back. He looked down at his arms, which were more defined than before. His legs too—longer, stronger. His shoulders had broadened.

Knight Rex continued. "Your awakening didn't just unlock your aura. It jumpstarted your physical growth suddenly and unknowingly. Think of it like pouring oil into a dying flame. Your body responded. Rapidly. It adapted for aura circulation and control. That meant growth—fast, intense growth."

"So I'm... out of sync with myself?" Lucien said.

Rex gave a single nod. "Exactly. Your reflexes, instincts, and muscle memory were all calibrated for a smaller version of yourself. Now? Your limbs are longer. Heavier. Your muscle density has changed. Your balance, your stride—everything is different."

Lucien sighed, letting the realization settle.

"That's why even my style felt off."

"You were trying to move like the old you," Rex confirmed. "But your body has evolved. You haven't caught up yet."

A beat of silence passed. Then Lucien chuckled under his breath.

"So I'm basically going through a second puberty."

Rex gave a rare, low chuckle. "In a way."

Lucien leaned back onto the mat again, letting his limbs sprawl out once more.

"How long do you think it'll take... to adjust?"

"That depends on you," Rex said. "But I'd say... not long. Your instincts are sharper than most. And you're not afraid to think. That's a rare mix."

"We'll spend the next few days rebuilding your foundation," Rex said. "You'll relearn your own body. And once your instincts align with your new strength you'll be stronger than ever,"

___________________________

Time past, Lucien had been sprawled at the training mat for quite the time now. Knight Rex stood a short distance away, arms crossed, breathing calmly despite the rigorous sparring match they had just concluded. His gaze softened slightly as he observed the exhausted young master before him. Stepping closer, he crouched down beside Lucien.

"You still breathing?" he asked, his tone light.

Lucien let out a faint grunt of acknowledgment—a tired, croaky hum that barely passed for speech.

Rex gave a small, rare smile. "I'll take that as a yes."

He stayed like that for a few more seconds, allowing Lucien a brief moment to rest. Then, standing back up, he exhaled slowly and spoke again. "You've done enough today. Rest. I'll handle the rest."

Lucien didn't answer this time. His eyes had finally fluttered shut, and the tense strain in his limbs gave way to a deeper, unguarded stillness. His breathing, though still labored, had begun to slow to a more natural rhythm. Sleep had taken him.

Knight Rex looked down at the boy he had trained for years—the boy who was no longer just a child playing with wooden swords. No, today he saw something else entirely. A growing flame. Potential, just beginning to roar.

Though the sparring match ended in Rex's favor, there had been moments during the clash where Lucien's aura control, footwork, and unpredictability had almost caught him off guard. Well almost. But that was enough to stir something within the seasoned knight. If this was Lucien's ability after only a few days of aura training—then given time, Rex believed, he might become someone whose name could shake the continent.

"I suppose I should carry you, then," Rex muttered, stepping forward.

With a slow, practiced movement, he slipped his arms beneath Lucien and lifted him gently in a princess carry. Despite Lucien's recent growth and taller stature, Rex handled the weight with no effort. He shifted his hold slightly to keep Lucien's head nestled against his shoulder and began the walk back toward the main mansion.

The halls of House Velebrandt were quiet at this hour. The stone floors echoed faintly with each step of the knight's boots, but no servants crossed his path—not until he neared the eastern corridor that connected to Lucien's residential wing.

Two maids stood near the hallway entrance, having just finished their shift in the nearby guest wing. When they saw Knight Rex carrying Lucien, their eyes widened slightly in surprise but quickly dropped into respectful bows.

"Sir Rex," one of them greeted politely.

"Good evening," Rex returned calmly. "The young master will be sleeping for a while. When he wakes, serve him food rich in mana recovery—soups, broths, and light grains. No heavy meats."

The maids straightened and nodded obediently. "Understood."

Rex gave a brief nod and continued on, Lucien still asleep in his arms. The knight passed through the familiar corridors of the Velebrandt estate, the ornate portraits and gold-lined trim of the hallways bearing witness to the quiet moment.

Upon reaching Lucien's chambers, Rex gently pushed the door open with his shoulder. The room was as orderly as ever, with clean bedding, folded towels on the side table, and the scent of faint herbal oils lingering in the air. A few maids were already inside, tidying the space and lighting the soft-glow lamps.

They paused upon seeing Rex enter, bowing silently.

Rex walked over to the bed and slowly lowered Lucien onto it, careful not to disturb his sleep. He adjusted the pillow beneath Lucien's head and drew the light quilt over his chest. Lucien stirred slightly but did not wake.

"He'll sleep soundly," Rex murmured, turning to the maids. "Make sure his meals are ready when he wakes. And don't let anyone disturb him."

"Yes, Sir Rex."

Satisfied, Rex turned and exited the room, his expression unreadable once more. But as he made his way down the hall, his steps grew more purposeful. His next destination was the estate's eastern lounge—where Archduchess Seraphina often spent her evenings reviewing reports and estate affairs.

It was time to report her son's progress.