By the time the sun began its slow climb toward midday, Raiden Goldheart had come to a grim realization.

He sucked with a sword.

"Again, young master. No, not like that. Your stance is collapsing. Reset."

Raiden had reset so many times he was convinced even the grass beneath him had memorized his footwork.

Meanwhile, a short distance away, Kent was elegance in motion.

Every strike he made echoed with precision and control. Every turn, every pivot, seemed deliberate.

Even Captain Baren nodded in approval as he parried Kent's attack with minimal effort, correcting his form here and there, but always with an approving tone that made Raiden want to throw his sword into the nearest pond.

Still, he didn't sulk. Not this time.

He'd already learned something about himself during these last few days: he didn't need to be the best.

He just needed to get better.

And if his brother was his measuring stick, then so be it.

When Sir Leonard finally called a halt, Raiden nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

"Twenty minutes," the head guard said. "Hydrate. Stretch. Then resume drills."

Raiden, barely upright, muttered under his breath, "Stretch, hydrate, die quietly. Got it."

Sir Leonard raised a brow but said nothing, turning away to instruct one of the senior guards. Raiden plopped down on the grass, breathing hard, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.

His water flask was gone in seconds.

But instead of lying there to rest like any sane human, he got up again. Curiosity, and maybe envy, tugged at him.

From the edge of the courtyard, he could see Kent's side of the field. His brother wasn't resting either.

In fact, he was sparring — not with Captain Baren this time, but with their father.

Lord Cedric Goldheart stood opposite Kent, dressed in a light training tunic, his sword gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Even without trying, the man radiated power. Power that was calm, contained, terrifyingly in control.

Raiden's curiosity overcame his exhaustion.

He limped closer, keeping to the side so Sir Leonard wouldn't see him slacking off. Every step hurt, but curiosity was stronger than pain.

Kent bowed deeply, his expression serious. "Father, may I ask something?"

Cedric raised a brow. "Go ahead."

"Teach me," Kent said, "three of your basic sword forms. The hidden ones — the ones you said every real swordsman should know."

Raiden froze mid-step, blinking. Hidden sword forms? Basic?

That sounded suspiciously familiar.

Cedric regarded Kent for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Three, you say? Ambitious. Very well — if you can withstand my next attack."

Kent's lips curved slightly. "Gladly."

Raiden crouched behind a nearby practice dummy, eyes wide, watching with absolute focus. His heart pounded as the two squared off.

Cedric moved first — a blur of motion, not overly fast, but perfectly measured. Kent barely blocked the first strike, the sound of metal on metal ringing sharp through the air.

Raiden's jaw dropped. "What kind of—?! That wasn't even flashy!"

It wasn't. That was the terrifying part. Cedric's swing was so simple, so clean, that it looked ordinary—until you realized Kent was barely keeping up.

Cedric's movements had no wasted motion. No visible mana flare. Just pure, disciplined swordsmanship.

Raiden whispered to himself, "Basic sword forms… hidden moves… wait…"

Something clicked.

He wasn't watching a show. He was watching opportunity.

He snapped his fingers softly. "Basic sword forms… means basic sword skills!"

He straightened immediately, ignoring the small jolt of pain in his lower back from crouching too long. He looked around quickly — no one watching. Sir Leonard was still on the other side of the courtyard, talking with one of the guards.

Perfect.

Raiden took a deep breath and whispered, "System, open Skill Draw Catalogue."

The familiar translucent interface shimmered to life before him, filled with glowing panels and categorized lists.

[Skill Catalogue Opened]

[Filter: Sword Skills | E-Class → D-Class]

A list expanded, scrolling endlessly before his eyes — dozens of basic-level sword abilities that were, until now, utterly irrelevant to him.

Not anymore.

Raiden's eyes darted over the glowing names:

[Basic Horizontal Slash] — E-Class (9 SP)

[Guard Shift] — E-Class (6 SP)

[Piercing Drive] — D-Class (13 SP)

He grinned. "Jackpot."

His SP balance glowed faintly in the corner. He had 63 Skill Points.

"I can afford all three."

His finger hovered over the first skill. A pulse of energy shot through him, not physical, but mental — as if his brain had just been filled with years of training memories in an instant.

Then the second skill. Another pulse, his body tingling with the knowledge of defense positioning, the instinct to parry and pivot.

Finally, he purchased the D-Class skill, and his vision blurred for a moment.

CLANG.

The mental image of a sword piercing through a training dummy flashed behind his eyes. It was a perfectly aligned, perfectly executed move. When his sight cleared, he was breathing hard, trembling with the rush of sudden knowledge.

He muttered to himself, "That… was awesome."

He grinned, flexing his fingers. "Alright, let's see what these babies can do—"

"—Master Raiden."

The voice was calm. Too calm.

Raiden froze mid-air, turning slowly.

Sir Leonard stood behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Raiden smiled weakly. "Sir Leonard. Hi. Fancy meeting you here."

The head guard arched one brow. "Your twenty minutes are over."

Raiden blinked. "Twen—twenty? Already?"

Leonard's tone was completely neutral. "Indeed. Twenty minutes have passed."

Raiden's jaw dropped. "That's impossible! It's been like—thirteen!"

Leonard looked up, as if consulting the sun itself. "The sun disagrees."

"But the sun lies!" Raiden argued.

"The sun," Leonard said with faint amusement, "has more honor than your excuses. Return to the courtyard."

Raiden pointed dramatically at Kent and Cedric still sparring in the distance. "But my brother's learning secret sword techniques!"

Leonard didn't even glance that way. "And you are learning humility. Resume your stance."

Raiden groaned, dragging his sword behind him like a reluctant toddler dragging a toy. "This is child abuse."

Leonard's brow twitched upward. "I assure you, young master, this is restraint."

Raiden shot him a glare, but it was useless. The man didn't bend. Ever.

Back in position, Raiden raised his sword halfheartedly. His muscles protested, his lungs felt tight, but the newly acquired knowledge pulsed faintly in the back of his mind, urging him to move.

Leonard watched silently. "Again."

Raiden swung. The motion wasn't perfect, but it was smoother — less chaotic. His arms followed the right path this time, his footing not quite as sloppy.

Leonard's gaze sharpened slightly. "Better."

Raiden blinked, lowering the sword a little. "Wait—did you just—"

"Again," Leonard interrupted.

Raiden scowled but obeyed. He swung again — smoother, sharper.

Leonard circled him slowly, his expression unreadable. "You've improved since morning."

Raiden grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. "Well, you know, genius and all."

Leonard's voice remained cool. "Confidence is valuable. Overconfidence is fatal."

Raiden groaned. "Can't even take a compliment in peace."

Leonard smirked faintly. "You may take a rest once you earn one."

Raiden gave him a flat stare. "I knew you'd say that."

When Leonard finally called another short break, Raiden didn't even bother sitting this time. He simply leaned on his sword, watching Kent and Cedric continue their spar.

Kent was getting better too — more controlled, his strikes carrying weight now.

But what caught Raiden's eye wasn't his brother's perfection. It was how their father adjusted his movements.

Cedric corrected Kent's elbow, his pivot, his weight distribution — small things that made huge differences.

And Raiden, ever the schemer, began to copy them in the corner, mimicking the stance with his own blade.

He whispered to himself, "Fine. You're the sword prodigy, Kent. I'll be the clever one."

He twirled his sword once, the movement not half bad this time, and smiled faintly. "And next time Sir Leonard tells me thirty minutes are over… I'll start counting myself."

As the afternoon sun began to dip, Leonard finally dismissed him. Raiden slumped against a tree, utterly drained but oddly satisfied. Every muscle in his body ached, but his mind buzzed with new clarity.

He'd found his rhythm.

He wasn't Kent, and he'd probably never reach his brother's level of natural grace with the sword — but that was fine.

Because Raiden Goldheart wasn't trying to imitate anyone anymore.

He was building his own way — one sarcastic complaint and accidental discovery at a time.

And somewhere in the glowing recesses of his system interface, three new skills shimmered, waiting to be mastered.

[Skills Acquired]

Basic Horizontal Slash – E-Class (Lv.1)

Guard Shift – E-Class (Lv.1)

Piercing Drive – D-Class (Lv.1)

[Skill Progress: 0.7%]

Raiden grinned weakly at the glowing window.

"Guess that's what they mean by progress…"

From the distance, Sir Leonard's voice called again. "Master Raiden, are you done whispering to the air?"

Raiden groaned. "He hears everything."

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