SSS-Rank Hunter Reborn: Private Tutor to the Count's Bastard Son

After returning to the mansion, the first thing Ferda did was hide the Death Herbs in his quarters.

Next, he pressured Aaron to find out which training ground Silvan had gone to.

"Running hard."

Already the twelfth lap.

Silvan, who had been at the back, had pushed to the front starting from the tenth lap. He seemed to have gotten used to controlling his breathing now. Ferda smiled with satisfaction.

"Next would be time for sparring?"

Burke went out on monster hunts once every two months. When he was away, sword lessons were always replaced with sparring.

The only one more skilled than Burke was Count Arcdute himself, but he couldn't teach directly.

"Good timing."

The reason Ferda was observing the sword lesson.

It wasn't to raise Silvan's affection or to watch him run.

There was something he wanted to test.

'If my memory is correct, surely...'

Was it the 4th cycle? There was such content.

An episode where they faced attackers who raided the mansion while taking Death Herbs and increasing negative energy.

There, Silvan obtained 'a certain ability.'

"...In an instant, the attackers' movements stopped.

Silvan stared wide-eyed at the leader of the attackers. Powerful killing intent, ghostly energy filled his gaze.

At that moment, nether mana surged.

'Gah! Grrgh!'

The leader grabbed his throat. Blood flowed from his rolled-back eyes. His body trembled and he soon collapsed to the floor. In the moment the attackers hesitated at the terrible sight, Silvan moved again."

The ability to fill his eyes with killing intent using nether mana.

Later, Silvan called this ability:

'Death Eyes.'

Eyes that command death.

An ability that even necromancers who reached the highest levels could hardly obtain.

But once obtained, it was also a convenient ability with many uses. Just glaring would make random small fry foam at the mouth and collapse.

'Of course, he can't get it all at once.'

He didn't hope for such luck.

It would be enough if he just became aware that there was an ability called 'Death Eyes.' Once a sprout emerged, it would grow vigorously when conditions were met.

That's when the shout '10 minutes rest!' was heard. Silvan was walking over from the distance.

A face covered in sweat. An expression that looked somehow proud.

Ferda chuckled and came down from the tree.

It was time to reward his hardworking student.

***

Leaving Ferda behind, Silvan walked to the training ground.

Following Teran's instructions, he put on training armor and tightened the straps of his knee guards.

'In combat, seizing the initiative is important.'

After gripping the crude wooden sword, he raised his head and stared straight ahead.

Mond was warming up with a relaxed smile. Seeing that face made his anger flare up for no reason.

'He thinks he can face someone like me while smiling?'

He bit his lips tightly.

Bitter feelings came first, but there was nothing he could do.

Silvan who had just taken his first steps, Mond who was approaching Beginner level.

The skill gap was obvious.

"Get ready! We'll start when the coin drops!"

A voice announcing signal preparation was heard.

Mond's expression changed. He lowered his stance and adjusted his grip on the sword. Clumsy but still looked like he'd swung a sword before.

Meanwhile, Silvan just faced him awkwardly.

Thud—

That's when the coin hit the ground.

"Haaah!"

With an honest battle cry, Mond charged.

A wooden sword raised high to the sky. He was aiming for the shoulder.

Silvan twisted his body to avoid the first attack.

But immediately a second attack followed.

Thwack!

"Tsk!"

This time he couldn't avoid it perfectly.

His shoulder stung. Though he wore armor, the pain wasn't completely blocked.

Silvan crumpled his face and pulled his body far back.

"Hah!"

Mond didn't just watch this happen.

Whoosh! Whoom!

Relentless attacks continued.

He blocked twice and got hit once. This time it was the opposite shoulder.

It stung, but not enough to drop his sword.

'I need to find an opening.'

He'd heard this hammered into his ears.

Burke had said it, and so had Ferda.

'But what the hell is an opening!'

Silvan crumpled his face.

Thwack!

While lost in thought, he got hit again. This time the waist. It hurt more than his shoulder. He almost teared up but endured it.

Whoosh! Thud!

If he avoided once, he got hit once.

The more sore spots he got, the faster his stamina depleted.

That's when Mond created some distance. Seeing this, Silvan's eyes sparkled.

'Could that be an opening?'

But he couldn't charge in. The distance had already opened up.

Mond caught his breath and after a moment gripped his sword again. Then he suddenly lifted the corners of his mouth slightly.

The meaning of the smile was obvious. Mockery.

'That bastard!'

Rage flared up.

Silvan gritted his teeth and tried to rush out.

No, he tried to rush out.

Hesitate—

That's when what Ferda had said before came to mind.

That excitement was forbidden in combat. That you should respond to provocations with indifference.

So Silvan moved his foot one step back.

Instead of charging, he chose defense. Then Mond smacked his lips.

Seeing his disappointed expression, he realized his choice was right.

Whoosh—!

More attacks followed!

Silvan could only defend one-sidedly or get hit, unable to make a single proper attack.

At this rate, the spar would just end with him getting beaten.

'I want to win.'

He bit his teeth tightly.

He wanted to punch that arrogant face.

That's when he remembered.

The advice Ferda had given before the spar started.

'Glare at your target. As if you'll kill them.'

He'd said to think of the person he hated most.

That wasn't hard to think of.

"...Casher."

A vicious sound flowed through his lips.

That's when the wooden sword flew in fiercely. This time it was his head.

Thud—!

It hit properly. At the impact that rang through his skull, Silvan staggered.

The opening that created.

Mond's eyes lit up. He didn't miss the opening.

At that very moment!

A scene flashed through Silvan's mind.

A training ground swept by cold air.

Mockery pouring from all directions. Contemptuous stares.

And a boy stepping on the head of a tear-soaked Silvan.

'Yeah. That's exactly the face that suits you.'

Casher smirking bitterly.

He grabbed Silvan's hair roughly and whispered.

'That's where you belong. Darkie.'

The moment he recalled that voice, intense emotion surged up. The emotion of rage.

Silvan meekly accepted that emotion. Then his gaze turned toward Mond.

And following his master's emotions.

Nether mana exploded upward.

***

Teran Rishiri's page, Mond.

Among the Count's pages, his skills were outstanding. There were even rumors among his peers that he'd be the first to become an apprentice knight.

So Mond had been eagerly waiting to spar.

That way he could show off his skills to Teran.

But today, his sparring opponent was quite unexpected.

'With the third young master?'

Count Arcdute's bastard, Silvan.

Rather than joy at being able to have the spar he'd been waiting for, worry came first. Even if he was a bastard, he was of noble blood. If he injured him, there would surely be consequences.

But then he heard an unexpected answer.

'It's fine. You can rough him up a bit.'

His master, Teran, said this with a smiling face.

'I'll take responsibility, so go wild. I'm looking forward to it.'

Teran's encouragement instantly melted Mond's worries. When his master said that much, it wouldn't be right to refuse.

Mond adjusted his grip on the wooden sword.

Winning was obvious.

What mattered was how to win? He could aim for the head once and knock him unconscious. But that didn't seem to be what his master wanted.

'Push him to the limit.'

His eyes glinted coldly.

Until the word surrender came from Silvan's mouth.

Anyway, Teran said he'd take responsibility for what happened after.

So Mond persistently swung his sword. He toyed with Silvan and cornered him. In between, he smiled and provoked him.

After about ten minutes like that.

The end of the spar was slowly approaching.

If left alone, it would be a draw, but Mond had no intention of that. He quickly charged and struck Silvan's head. Looking at him staggering, he grinned.

'It's over.'

This should satisfy Teran too.

His sword aimed for Silvan's head once more.

And then.

Mond and Silvan's eyes met.

Shiver—

Goosebumps rose all over his body.

Mond's eyes grew bigger and bigger.

He tried to swing his sword but couldn't. The strength had left his legs.

Sway—

His stance suddenly collapsed. He felt a cold chill. His mouth went dry and his pupils repeatedly contracted. He wanted to make a sound, but no words came out.

Yes, for example.

Like a mouse in front of a cat.

Thwack!

At that moment, Silvan's wooden sword properly struck Mond's head.

Setting aside the pain, all strength drained from his body.

The sword fell from his hands and rolled on the ground.

"Ah..."

This wasn't right. He moved to grab his sword again.

But Silvan was faster.

Crack!

His knee drove into Mond's face. Blood painted the air. Mond fell backward, eyes rolled back and head tilted to the side.

The moment when winner and loser were clearly divided.

"Stop!"

That's when Teran intervened.

His face was thoroughly crumpled. But he smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Your skills have improved a lot since I last saw you."

Looking at Silvan catching his breath, Teran continued.

"The young master's victory."

At those words, the corners of Silvan's mouth curved up.

Victory. Who knew that short word could be so sweet?

Intoxicated by the thrilling feeling, but only for a moment.

Whoosh—

He turned his head.

His gaze went to Ferda who was watching from afar.

As soon as their eyes met, Silvan made a proud expression.

Then Ferda chuckled and gave him a thumbs up.

As if acknowledging Silvan.

"Hehe."

With a proud feeling, Silvan smiled brightly.

It was the winner's smile.