Talent Awakening: I Got Reincarnated With Two Systems?!

Raiden stirred, groaning softly as his eyes blinked open to the faint shimmer of moonlight filtering through the leaves.

His back ached. His right arm was numb. His wooden sword lay across his lap like a loyal dog waiting for orders.

For a few disoriented seconds, he stared around his base, trying to recall why he was lying on the forest floor.

Then it hit him.

He'd fallen asleep while training. Again.

He sat up abruptly, panic creeping into his chest. 'Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no—'

His mind began racing through worst-case scenarios. His mother was probably pacing in worry. Kent had likely gone to check his room. His father—oh, his father would not be pleased.

He looked around quickly, heart pounding, but then paused when he noticed something strange.

The sky was still dark.

A faint grey stretched along the horizon, but dawn had yet to arrive.

Raiden exhaled, relief washing through him. "Okay," he whispered to himself. "Crisis averted. I can still sneak back in before anyone wakes up."

He grabbed his sword, brushed dirt from his hair, and started tiptoeing back toward the main building, his movements exaggeratedly cautious, like a thief in his own home.

Halfway there, he froze. The Goldheart main building was just up ahead—quiet, imposing, alive with faint mana energy even in the dark.

Raiden peered at the grand walls and windows, frowning.

If he tried to sneak in now, he'd probably get caught. The guards would definitely report it, and if they didn't, his father's absurd mana sense would pick him up the moment he stepped near the door.

He hesitated, glancing around the empty training courtyard. Then a mischievous spark flared in his eyes.

"…Or," he whispered, grinning, "I could pretend I meant to be up this early."

He stretched dramatically, rolled his shoulders, and positioned himself at the center of the courtyard, the early morning mist coiling around him like smoke.

Then, he started swinging his sword.

At first, it was the familiar movements—stances and slashes Sir Leonard had drilled into his soul. But as he got into rhythm, Raiden added a few intentionally odd moves. Overly wide swings. Random spins. A slow, deliberate lunge that looked like a dance move gone wrong.

If anyone sensed him now, they'd think he'd been up training before dawn.

Perfect cover.

He chuckled to himself. "Let's see how you handle that, Father."

"Quite the routine you have there, young master."

Raiden froze mid-swing, his sword held awkwardly above his head. That voice—calm, composed, and faintly amused—could belong to only one person.

Sir Leonard!

He turned slowly, trying not to look startled. "Oh, Sir Leonard! You're up early too, huh?"

The tall man stood a few paces away, arms crossed, faint moonlight reflecting off his silver hair. Even without armor, he looked perfectly composed—every line of his form radiating control.

"I could ask you the same," Leonard said. "What brings you here before sunrise?"

Raiden forced a casual smile. "You said training would start earlier today, didn't you? I thought maybe this early was what you meant. Sleep refused to return, so… I figured I'd warm up."

Sir Leonard regarded him quietly, as if weighing every word. Then, slowly, a small nod. "A good answer."

Raiden grinned. "See? I can be responsible."

The knight didn't respond to that—probably because even he didn't believe it.

Raiden tilted his head. "What about you, Sir Leonard? Why are you up this early?"

The man's reply came without hesitation. "I didn't sleep."

Raiden blinked. "Didn't sleep… at all?"

Leonard shook his head. "At a certain point in our development, young master, sleep becomes… unnecessary. Those who have trained their bodies and mana to a high degree transcend such limits."

He turned his gaze toward the quiet estate beyond the courtyard. "So instead of sleep, I walk the grounds. Ensure all is well."

Raiden's jaw nearly dropped. "You mean you just… stay awake? Every night?"

"Most nights," Leonard confirmed calmly. "Rest is not always required."

Raiden tried to process that. "So… wait, if you're on the same level as my father, that means he doesn't need to sleep either?"

Leonard gave a faint nod. "Lord Cedric is quite capable of functioning without it."

Raiden frowned. 'Then why does he like sleeping so much?'

For the briefest second, Raiden almost asked that question aloud—but stopped himself. Something told him that asking why his father enjoyed sleep might not be wise. Better to ask the man himself.

Instead, he forced a grin. "Well, I guess I've got a long way to go before I can brag about skipping bedtime."

"You may start," Leonard said dryly, "by mastering your stance."

The knight turned slightly, glancing across the courtyard. "Continue your training. I'll take another round along the perimeter. When I return, we'll begin."

Raiden nodded quickly. "Yes, Sir Leonard."

As the man's tall figure disappeared into the fog, Raiden exhaled in relief. "Okay, not dead yet. Good start to the day."

He reset his stance, focusing again. The air was cool, his breath visible in the dim light. His muscles ached faintly, but he ignored it.

One swing. Two. Three.

The courtyard echoed softly with the whisper of the blade through the air.

«»«»«»

She hadn't planned on waking up this early.

Miss Hilda had been sleeping soundly when something tugged her awake—a subtle, persistent feeling she couldn't explain. It wasn't magic or danger. It was just… a pull.

She rose, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and wandered to the window of her small residence beside the main hall. The dawn light hadn't yet broken, but through the faint mist, she could see movement in the courtyard.

A shadow, repeating the same motions again and again.

She leaned closer and smiled softly. "Raiden."

Even from here, she could tell from the size, the posture, and the awkward-but-determined form. He was training.

At this hour.

Alone.

That was new.

Curiosity—and maybe a little pride—pushed her to step outside.

Her slippers made no sound on the grass as she crossed the courtyard. When Raiden noticed her silhouette approaching, he nearly dropped his sword.

"Oh—Miss Hilda! You're up early!"

She smiled warmly, waving a hand. "I could say the same, young master."

Raiden scratched the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly. "Couldn't sleep. So I figured I'd train. You know, like all responsible people do."

Hilda chuckled softly. "Mm, I see. You're full of surprises lately."

She walked closer and then sat down on the soft grass beneath a nearby tree, her shawl wrapped neatly around her shoulders. Her gentle eyes followed his movements. "Don't mind me. Continue."

Raiden hesitated. "You're just… gonna watch?"

"I'll stay here in case you tire yourself out," she said simply. "You do have a habit of collapsing mid-effort."

Raiden flushed slightly. "That was one time!"

"Twice," she corrected with a small grin. "Carry on."

He sighed but turned back to his training. Somehow, her presence made it easier—not because he wanted to impress her, but because she felt… steady. Like a quiet anchor.

For several minutes, only the sound of his sword cutting air filled the courtyard.

Hilda watched silently, her thoughts wandering. She'd never liked sword training—too violent, too bloody—but watching Raiden's movements, clumsy yet determined, softened that belief a little.

Footsteps broke the silence.

Sir Leonard reappeared from the mist, his sharp eyes taking in the scene before him—the young master swinging earnestly, and Miss Hilda seated gracefully at the edge of the courtyard.

He slowed to a halt, mildly surprised.

"Miss Hilda," he said politely, inclining his head. "I wasn't expecting to see you awake at this hour."

She smiled serenely. "Nor was I expecting to find one of your students training before dawn."

Leonard's gaze shifted to Raiden, who had frozen mid-swing like a startled animal.

For a brief moment, the knight's lips curved upward ever so slightly.

"It seems dedication is contagious."

Raiden rubbed his neck. "Uh… yeah. I was just, you know, warming up."

"Then continue," Leonard said, tone calm but commanding. "We begin proper training in ten minutes."

Raiden groaned quietly. "Ten minutes?"

"Seven," Leonard corrected as he walked past.

" Pfft!" Miss Hilda stifled a laugh, rising to her feet. "Don't look so gloomy, Raiden. You wanted to improve, didn't you?"

"I wanted to live," he muttered under his breath, earning another amused smile from her.

As Sir Leonard began setting up the training area and the first pale light of dawn crept over the estate walls, Raiden tightened his grip on his sword, glancing once at the two adults—the strict knight and the gentle healer.

For once, he wasn't the mischievous Goldheart.

For once, he was simply… trying.

And that, in itself, was progress.