"No... wait, that's not right—well, in a way it is, sss..."
Eleanor was lost for words for a moment, not knowing how to describe it. A figure unconsciously rose in her mind, gradually outlining a complete image—white hair, golden eyes, that nearly flawless appearance, and the final words he had spoken, filled with disdain and arrogance.
"The rumors were wrong. It was Roland Morningstar Lucifiel."
"What do you mean?"
"If I'm not mistaken, the one who took action was Roland Morningstar Lucifiel." Eleanor recalled, beginning to analyze the situation at the time as she said, "At the end, my Illusion-Breaking Eye traced those chains back, and their source was him. That is to say... he's nothing like the rumors suggest. On the contrary, he's strong—incomprehensibly strong."
"The Grand Duke's son?" Rhys Marshall asked, his brow tightly furrowed.
"Yes, that's him."
"A personality completely opposite to the rumors, along with the power to wipe out the cultists of the Fallen Mother Goddess in an instant—that requires the strength of at least a Third-Rank practitioner." Rhys Marshall reasoned, his eyes heavy with gravity. "Meaning every move you made was under his surveillance?"
"Maybe we were discovered as soon as we entered the city?"
Eleanor spoke with a bit of uncertainty.
"Very likely."
"Oh, and it's worth mentioning that he was several kilometers away from me. He never actually left the ducal mansion." Eleanor added another sentence, terrified of missing any crucial details. She knew little about the ducal mansion, and similarly, had only heard a few rumors about Roland—grapevine talk claiming he had a gentle temperament and possessed weak talent and strength.
"Several kilometers?!"
Several people nearby, who had been relatively calm until now, suddenly cried out in unison.
Eleanor had not quite realized the impact yet, simply staring at them in bewilderment.
Rhys Marshall coughed repeatedly as though startled out of his wits, taking quite a while before speaking up, "If what you say is true and he cast magic from several kilometers away, that's something only a Fifth-Rank mage, at minimum, could accomplish. But isn't he around the same age as you?"
Eleanor froze for a moment.
She was only First-Rank, having just recently stepped onto the path.
According to the captain, her strength was around level 1.1 to 1.3, while the captain—Rhys Marshall himself—was only a Third-Rank warrior.
If Roland Morningstar Lucifiel really was Fifth-Rank, wasn't that a bit too terrifying? If he truly possessed such strength, why hide it and intentionally play the part of a harmless little rabbit?
"..."
For a moment, everyone was rendered speechless.
However, there was one thing they could confirm.
Roland Morningstar Lucifiel, the son of the Grand Duke, was nowhere near as simple as they had thought.
...
Roland ate his breakfast as usual.
In his hands was a tome on magic.
In this world, aside from the pleasure of watching those familiar characters appear one by one, his only other enjoyment was probably reading. He could now understand how top students saw the world back then; the feeling of knowledge slipping into his brain on its own was extraordinarily fascinating, rendering his store of knowledge even richer.
Granted, his predecessor's store of knowledge had already been grand enough.
Yet in the eyes of the current Roland, it was still not enough.
In that case, he would set a small goal for himself first.
To read through all the extraordinary-related books in the ducal mansion. For someone who was both a Fifth-Rank mage and a Fifth-Rank warrior, this was not difficult, though thoroughly converting them into experience would take some time to digest. As it happened, there were still two months before the St. Romanvia Imperial Academy opened its doors, and as it happened, time was the very thing he lacked least.
"Uncle Scott, interested in a quick duel to test our swordsmanship?"
"It would be my honor, Young Master."
Head Butler Scott Grier bowed slightly, a sharp glint flashing through his eyes. Never before had Roland expressed a desire to spar with him; in over ten years, this was the very first time.
Roland's thought was very simple: just practice a bit and stretch his limbs.
As a Seventh-Rank Sword Saint, Scott possessed "Specialization"-level swordsmanship.
In a head-on fight, unless Roland pulled out some trump cards, he naturally wouldn't win and would only get slaughtered. Of course, this wasn't a fight to the death, nor would Scott unleash his full power as a Seventh-Rank Sword Saint; it was merely a pure exchange of swordsmanship, placing them both on the exact same starting line.
This was a contest of skill.
They arrived at the martial arts arena in the backyard, a vast open space where they could maneuver freely.
"Please be careful, Young Master."
Scott slowly unsheathed the sword at his hip.
This sword possessed a long history. It was not just a weapon, but a treasured possession and a gift from a dear friend—though that friend had long since turned into a handful of yellow dust. On the other side, Roland casually pulled a rapier from a nearby weapon rack, giving it a flick and twirling it cleanly in his hand.
"Fits well enough in the hand."
Just as the words left his mouth...
Scott charged forward abruptly.
Clang—
The sound of clashing steel vibrated through the air, crisp and clear. A strange look flashed through Scott's eyes. In truth, he hadn't held back at all; even if the young master was gifted and managed to block it by luck, it should never have been so effortless.
Roland smiled slightly and parried the other's blade away with force.
In an instant, the two entered the second round of engagement.
Neither dodged. It was simply strike for strike, attacking and parrying at a dizzying speed that eventually blurred into residual images. Their arms and swords vanished, replaced by the relentless ringing of clashing steel—dozens of metallic collisions echoing every single second.
The whistling of wind sliced through the air continuously.
In this pure battle of skill...
Neither backed down in the slightest.
There were only attacks and blocks, their footwork remaining rock-solid—slashing, parrying, chopping, lifting, flicking, as pure as strokes of calligraphy. Roland seized a subtle flaw and directly parried Scott's sword aside. Unable to pull his sword back in time, Scott could only retreat, while Roland pursued relentlessly, firmly taking control of the offense.
"Specialization-level swordsmanship?!"
Waves of shock churned in Scott's heart.
Generally speaking, swordsmanship levels were divided into Novice, Ordinary, Proficient, Mastery, Specialization, Master, and the highest, Grandmaster. Though it seemed like only a few levels, advancing through them was exceedingly difficult. Nearly ninety-five percent of people could never cross the threshold of "Ordinary," while a handful of geniuses might reach "Proficient."
Only powerhouse fighters who had endured countless death matches could achieve "Mastery."
To say nothing of "Specialization," which stood above "Mastery."
Generally speaking, only Great Warriors of Sixth-Rank or higher could reach this tier. Take Scott, for example: a dignified Seventh-Rank Sword Saint, he too had only developed Specialization-level swordsmanship, which proved just how difficult it was. His Specialization had been forged through countless bloody slaughters and honed over long years of experience.
Where, then, did Roland's Specialization-level swordsmanship come from?
Was he a... genius, or rather... a monster?
"Uncle Scott, you got distracted."
After a sharp clashing sound...
Although the sharp sword in Scott's hand had not been knocked away...
Roland's rapier was already resting against his throat. A Seventh-Rank Sword Saint possessing 【Swordsmanship Specialization】 had lost to a young man. Though slight carelessness had played a part, the probability of such an outcome should have been zero—absolute zero. Yet, starting with Roland, zero had become 0.000001.
【Swordsmanship Specialization (Red): Skill-type ability, representing the sum total of your swordsmanship capability.】
As it happened, Roland possessed this trait as well.
Rate on N.U.
