A Peculiar Awakening

Marin’s efficiency was remarkably high. No sooner had Rhine accepted his task than, by the very next afternoon, he found himself standing in the training grounds of the estate’s annex.

Swordsmanship was an esteemed art among Norman noblemen; for boys, regardless of age, it was a compulsory subject. Indeed, the mastery of one’s sword skills was even, at one point, considered a measure of the nobility of one’s bloodline.

This was because the founding emperor, “Emperor Covenant,” was renowned for his unparalleled swordsmanship, and at the very center of the Norman national emblem lay the legendary divine sword, “Sacred Oath.”

The first Cavendish, a founding marshal who followed the emperor, was also remarkably skilled in the way of the sword, with a sword emblem prominently featured on their family crest.

As the second son of the Cavendish family, Daniel’s swordsmanship was not permitted to lag behind anyone else’s.

Rhine, wooden sword in hand, reluctantly faced the aggressive Daniel. The boy’s cold, piercing gaze made it seem as though Rhine had committed some grave offense against him.

“You’re using that effeminate face of yours to get close to my sister, aren’t you?” Daniel sneered. “Let me tell you now: leave the Cavendish family soon, and I might go easy on you. But I can’t promise I won’t scratch your delicate skin.”

Someone was clearly seething with jealousy, though the identity remained unspoken.

‘How exclusionary is this family?’ Rhine mused. ‘Everyone who approaches me tries to drive me away. This scenario is practically a tradition now.’

“Begin,” the supervising instructor commanded.

Without further preamble, Rhine assumed a defensive stance while Daniel launched into an offense, their wooden swords clashing with a rapid clack-clack-clack across the small training square.

Daniel, relying on years of accumulated training, possessed a solid foundation, and his sword strikes were swift and fierce, allowing him to gain the upper hand for a time.

Rhine, though seemingly at a disadvantage, remained unhurried. His wrist rotated with practiced dexterity, his focus honed on controlling his body—balance, breath, footwork—elements he had mastered through countless real battles, skills that transcended mere swordsmanship.

As the initial flurry of fierce attacks subsided, Daniel’s subsequent breath control clearly faltered, unable to maintain his earlier rhythm. Seizing this opening, Rhine countered with a powerful overhead chop. Predictably, Daniel chose not to dodge, instead meeting the strike head-on. The impact left his arm numb, and his footwork grew increasingly erratic.

Subsequently, Rhine shifted from defense to offense, using a simple combination taught to him by Ferren that left Daniel thoroughly discomfited. When Rhine’s wooden sword pressed against Daniel’s sword-holding wrist, Daniel’s expression was one of utter disbelief.

“Why… why did even you beat me?” Daniel stammered, his voice laced with frustration. “I’ve trained for five years, and you’ve been here… not even a month!”

“You lost. That is a fact,” Rhine stated plainly.

Daniel’s grip weakened, and the wooden sword slipped from his hand, falling onto the grass. His entire body trembled as he struggled to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.

“Pick it up. Continue.”

Rhine remained expressionless. This was merely a task, and he had no interest in lecturing a child about the philosophies of life.

Daniel turned his face away, silently wiped his tears, then bent down to pick up the mud-caked wooden sword.

In the second round, his offensive was noticeably more cautious. It seemed he had absorbed the lesson from the first bout, recognizing that Rhine was no ordinary opponent, and his technique was no longer so wild and expansive.

Rhine maintained his usual adaptability, observing keenly even as he retreated. This time, their exchange devolved into a protracted war of attrition.

Sweat beaded and dripped from both their temples, their stamina steadily depleting with each passing second.

In terms of sword variation, Daniel was, in fact, superior. However, Rhine consistently maintained a defensive posture, patiently seeking an opening.

Naturally, in a sword duel, offensive movements require significantly more energy than defensive ones. No matter how varied the sword techniques, the primary force still originated from the arms. A defender, conversely, could utilize their body’s inertia to absorb part of the impact. With this dynamic at play, Daniel, no matter his indignation, was bound to exhaust himself first, leading inevitably to his defeat by Rhine, who still possessed ample reserve strength.

“If you still have strength, continue.”

By the third round, Daniel’s exhausted hands could barely grip the sword hilt. He mechanically put up a few meager blocks before Rhine’s strike sent his wooden sword flying.

“Continue.”

He picked it up, only for the wooden sword to press against his wrist. He picked it up again, only for it to be held against his throat. He picked it up once more, only for it to be pressed against his neck.

The training had devolved into a unilateral rout. By the end, Daniel’s eyes were vacant, and his body swayed precariously, unable to even stand steadily.

“Continue,” Rhine urged.

Rhine’s voice was a low reprimand. He knew full well that Daniel had reached his limit, yet he would not stop. He had seen through Daniel’s weaknesses, his hesitations, and he intended to shatter every last vestige of Daniel’s pride.

“Continue, do you hear me? Hold your sword properly. It’s not over yet.”

“I… I give up.”

“Give up what?”

“I have no talent,” Daniel confessed, his voice trembling. “No matter how much more time I spend, my skill will remain like this… If I can’t even defeat a beginner like you, what can I possibly accomplish? Even Father looks down on me. I always lose.”

“Then concede,” Rhine stated flatly. “You can’t do anything right now. That’s just how it is.”

The second son’s resolve wavered.

“How can I concede? I am a Cavendish…”

“What does that matter?” Rhine interrupted. “You can’t even defeat me, a mere commoner. Face reality; it’s much easier to just admit defeat.”

Daniel’s vision blurred as he stared at Rhine. Rhine’s indifferent tone trampled his pride, yet the choice offered was so enticing to his utterly exhausted body.

The second son remained silent, then, for the last time, picked up the mud-stained wooden sword, his action a declaration of his persistence.

“Very well,” Rhine murmured.

Rhine flexed his reddened palm. Constantly pressing his opponent had not been easy for him either.

Raise sword, attack. Lift sword, parry.

It seemed destined to be another uncontested match; Daniel would inevitably fall, the only question being how many more blows he could parry.

Just as in the first round, Rhine raised his sword and chopped down—

In a flash, Daniel retreated half a step, the sword edge narrowly grazing his temple.

He had learned to temper his blade’s edge.

A pale blue radiance swirled around his sword, condensing into a blade of pure energy. For the first time in his life, Daniel had manifested sword qi!

Rhine hastily parried. Daniel’s blade, now imbued with an unstoppable resolve, slashed horizontally—

Swish! Rhine’s wooden sword abruptly splintered, wood chips flying. One shard grazed his cheek, and the biting wind of the sword qi ruffled his bangs.

“Now that’s more like it,” Rhine murmured, a look of profound satisfaction gracing his features.

He had long discerned that Daniel was but a hair’s breadth away from comprehending sword qi, needing only an external push while standing at the crossroads of enlightenment.

On the path of a knight, character was paramount. ‘A honed heart sharpens the blade’—this adage was no mere empty saying.

From their very first exchange, Rhine had observed that Daniel’s pride would not permit him any retreat. Even if he could have cleverly evaded, he would still choose to fight fiercely, even at a disadvantage.

Sword qi, and the way of tempering one’s blade. Only by understanding how to conceal one’s true prowess could one be said to have taken even a half-step into the threshold of swordsmanship.

Rhine shrugged, wiped the blood from his cheek, and tossed aside the broken sword, which was now nothing but a hilt. He then spoke softly to the panting boy, who was still looking down:

“You won.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Having reported to the dumbfounded instructor, he turned decisively and departed.

Daniel looked up, his hazy gaze fixed on Rhine’s slender retreating figure.

In the fleeting moment he unleashed his sword qi and breached the defense, Daniel happened to catch a glimpse of Rhine’s captivating face.

‘He… was smiling, wasn’t he? Is he an angel? I’ve never seen anyone so… adorable—those expressive eyes, those delicate lips, that stubborn expression… Did he push me so hard just for my sake? My sister is clearly more beautiful, so why do I feel…’

With his gender perception utterly muddled, Daniel’s ears burned crimson, and his wooden sword stood shamefully upright in the grass.

Today, for 14-year-old Daniel, was the most momentous day of his life, and also the day his preferences began their irreversible journey down a peculiar path.

As for the person in question, who was humming a little tune and leaving work early, he remained utterly oblivious to the devastating impact he had just had on the young man.