That's Not How You Do That

The next morning.

I headed to the knights’ training grounds at the crack of dawn.

First things first — let’s see this gymnasium.

Slam!

“Nobody here yet?”

I was the first one in.

I looked around at the equipment and frowned.

“Look at all this dust.”

Barbells, dumbbells, pull-up bars — all of it coated in a fine layer of neglect.

At a glance, nothing had been touched in a long time.

“What a waste……”

I sighed and looked around the room.

“No punching bag either. Pretty shabby all around.”

As emperor, I had designed and distributed training equipment modeled after Earth’s, all for the sake of building up the imperial army.

Apparently my reach hadn’t extended this far into the northern borderlands.

“Work with what’s here.”

I found a rag in the corner and got to cleaning.

I straightened up the scattered equipment and started wiping down the dumbbells — then stopped.

“……Wait. I’m a nobleman’s son, aren’t I?”

Why was a former emperor and current young lord of a noble house cleaning by hand?

Well, I’d already started. Might as well finish.

Handling the training equipment I’d designed brought back old memories, and a strange sort of nostalgia.

I’d barely done more than wipe things down and the time had already slipped away.

“Phew, even that wore me out……”

I sat down, tired and dull-limbed, and heard a commotion from outside.

I looked out and saw knights had gathered in the training yard.

Two of them were sparring while the others watched.

“Hm. Has swordsmanship advanced in the past hundred years?”

Curious, I made my way over.

The knights who noticed me wrinkled their noses and snapped their heads away.

No greeting. Not even a nod.

Naked contempt.

“Well, look at that.”

I almost had to laugh.

I was still the youngest son of the house they served, wasn’t I?

And yet this was the reception.

The original Rigen had apparently made himself thoroughly despised.

As someone who’d spent his emperor years surrounded by nothing but adulation and cheering crowds, I found the whole thing genuinely novel.

I let it go and turned my attention to the two sparring knights.

“Hyah!”

“Hah!”

With every swing of their swords, red magical energy blazed off the armored knights.

Fierce swordwork, no question.

I watched in silence — and from somewhere in the crowd, snickering started.

Eyes drifting toward me.

They were looking down on me, assuming some pampered young lord wouldn’t know the first thing about what he was watching.

Fair enough. But——

“Why are they putting on a show like that?”

I was genuinely baffled.

I’d expected to see how swordsmanship had evolved over a hundred years, and instead I was watching this?

Silence fell abruptly.

Everyone was looking at me now.

The two sparring knights had stopped as well, glaring.

“……Ha. Hahahahaha.”

One of the seated knights burst out laughing.

A man with his hair half gone on top — he stood and walked toward me.

“Well, isn’t this Young Master Rigen, the youngest? Heard you nearly got yourself killed messing around with someone else’s woman. Glad to see you survived.”

“And I’m glad someone with a mouth like yours is still alive.”

“Ha, I admit I can be a little rough around the edges……”

He pushed his face close to mine and growled.

“But what exactly did you just mutter, Young Master? That our men are weak?”

“If they’re not weak, what would you call it? I can see them wasting magical energy from here.”

“Hahahahaha, sounds like you have something to say. Haha. Do go ahead.”

“And you are……?”

I said it with deliberate laziness, one hip cocked.

His face twisted.

“Uros. Knight-captain of the Librata knights. Nearly dying must have taken your memory along with it.”

Laughter from all sides.

The knight-captain snarling at me was apparently prime entertainment.

I nodded.

“Right. The knight-captain with half his hair gone. Since we’ve run into each other — why isn’t the gymnasium being maintained?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Quite a few, actually.”

Physical conditioning was the foundation of strength.

Back on Earth it was just a slogan. In Karakas it was literal truth.

The war against the Seven Sin God had been brutal, and the difference between life and death often came down to physical conditioning.

I hadn’t built up my body because I was obsessed with training. It was simple math — when your magical power runs dry, what you’re left with is muscle, endurance, and raw stamina.

My own reserves had been effectively bottomless, but the average soldier wasn’t so fortunate.

“Proper use of magic requires physical conditioning as the foundation. Isn’t that the first page of the Imperial Army manual?”

“The Imperial Army? You read some book by those rabble and now you think you can lecture me?”

The rabble whose founder and supreme commander was standing right in front of him.

But the other knights were all nodding along with Uros.

Thinking it over — the Imperial Army and the private forces of the nobility had never gotten along.

“Ah. So that’s how it is. To hell with the Imperial Army — you have your own way of doing things.”

“If you know so much, I’d appreciate it if you went back where you came from. Keep pushing and someone might lose their temper.”

Uros said it as a warning.

The original Rigen probably would have wet himself. In my case, it just made me want to laugh.

“Funny thing is, I need to use that gymnasium. Do I sign up through you?”

“……You don’t seem to be hearing me, Young Master.”

“Watch your tone. I’ll take you apart.”

I let my voice shift — dropped the pleasantry out of it entirely.

“You’ve been talking down to me from the start. I’m a nobleman and you serve below me. Keep the hierarchy straight, or I’ll strip away whatever hair you have left before you figure out what hit you.”

“……”

I put real weight behind the words, and a different kind of silence settled over the yard.

Uros himself froze — couldn’t even blink.

A Roar.

A psychic technique that transformed the voice, temporarily amplifying one’s own presence.

In my emperor days I’d used it to galvanize armies. Right now my psychic abilities were barely out of the cradle, but this was foundational — simple enough to manage.

“……Quite the words, Young Master.”

Uros took two steps back, eyes narrowing as he reassessed me.

He’d been overwhelmed for a moment and couldn’t explain why.

“The actions to match. Want to find out? Let’s go.”

“You’re serious?”

“I set the rules. Ten seconds. Wooden swords, both of us. No magic. Land one hit anywhere on the body — that’s a win. Well?”

Uros shook his head.

“……Even wooden swords can injure someone badly — or kill them. Too dangerous.”

“Saying no?”

“Young Master, I was out of line. My apologies. Let’s call it here and you can be on your way.”

Uros said it in earnest.

A wooden sword delivered wrong could put someone down for good.

Even a rotten old fish was still a fish — Rigen was a noble’s son. Seriously injuring him would create enormous problems.

“You’re saying your men are too weak to fight?”

“……”

The knights’ expressions shifted.

Knights were prickly about their pride by nature.

Uros read the mood of his men and exhaled slowly.

“……If you insist. Garul! You’re up!”

“……”

One of the young knights from the earlier spar jumped to his feet.

I looked at Uros and said,

“I forgot to mention what I want if I win. If I win, clean the gymnasium equipment every single day from now on. I find even a speck of dust and there will be consequences.”

“If you win, we’ll see to it.”

“And speak to me properly.”

I held Uros’s gaze as I said it.

I’d always been casual as emperor — but I didn’t let people climb all over me.

Democracy? Universal equality?

Step into the killing fields of Karakas and those ideas evaporate fast.

Hierarchy kept things clean. That was better for everyone.

Uros gave a small nod.

“If you beat Garul, I will show you genuine respect.”

“Good.”

I picked out a wooden sword from the training yard — and then grabbed a second one.

One long, one short.

“Dual-wielding?”

“That’s just for show, isn’t it? Who actually fights with two swords?”

“Has anyone ever seen the young master swing a sword?”

“Not once.”

“Who are you putting money on?”

“How would that bet even work?”

The knights muttered behind me.

I ignored them and tested the grip in both hands.

I took my position with a sword in each hand, and Garul squared up across from me.

The other knights stepped back, suddenly very interested.

Uros called out,

“As stated — ten seconds. The moment either weapon makes contact with any part of the body, that’s a win. If there’s no result in ten seconds, it’s a draw.”

In truth, Uros wouldn’t have wanted this match in the first place.

The worst case was me ending up dead or badly hurt — and then the fallout would be catastrophic.

No magic, wooden swords, and a time limit. That was what it had taken for him to agree at all.

How did I know all this so clearly? Because once I became emperor, I couldn’t get a proper spar to save my life. Everyone panicked and talked me out of it every single time.

“Begin!”

“……”

Uros’s shout — and Garul just stood there, brow furrowed, not moving.

The look of someone who’d been dragged into a farce and resented it.

I didn’t hesitate. I charged.

I threw the sword in my left hand — and swung the one in my right!

Crack!

A clean, satisfying sound.

Garul flinched and started to dodge — too late. The downward strike caught him squarely on top of the head.

His body swayed, then crumpled to the ground.

Silence.

“What…… what just happened….”

“Is that allowed?!”

“Wh— Garul? Garul?”

The yard was stunned.

Uros stood with his mouth hanging open, staring at me.

He wasn’t blinking.

“One round. We’re done, yes?”

“……K-Knight-captain.”

“That was cheap! That’s cheating!”

Everyone erupted at once — and I drew a breath and bellowed.

Roar.

“Quit whining after you lose!”

“……”

The chaos stopped. Every head swung toward me.

I pressed forward with the psychic force behind my voice.

“What’s the difference between a soldier and a knight? A knight rides and wears armor — a knight is supposed to charge ahead of the soldiers, be their shield. And a knight like that gets knocked on the head and calls it unfair?”

“……”

“You want to know why I said you were weak? Every time you swing a sword, your magic blazes out. You think in a real fight you’ll always have the luxury of burning through magic like that? Take a hit to the head and it’s over.”

Humans weren’t dragons. Magic wasn’t infinite.

A few exchanges of real combat and everyone was already gasping.

That was precisely why I had built the Imperial Army’s foundation on physical conditioning.

The silence held, and I let the Roar drop, softening my voice.

“What I just used is the opening page of the Imperial Army’s dual-sword manual. In real combat you never have complete information about the enemy — throw your weapon first and you seize the initiative.”

“……”

“Don’t let your guard down just because it’s a spar. Don’t underestimate someone just because they seem weak. A blade in the hand of a child can still kill you.”

Silence from the knights.

But the air had shifted. Some of them were actually listening.

Uros spoke quietly.

“We lost. I’ll have the men keep the gymnasium properly maintained.”

“Good. And……”

“I’d like a word with you, Young Master. Could you spare a moment somewhere more private?”

Uros’s eyes.

Nothing like the sneer he’d been wearing before. His bearing had changed entirely.

Respectful.

I agreed, and Uros followed me into the gymnasium.

He looked at the equipment I’d wiped down and made a sound of genuine surprise.

“Well. Spotless.”

“Keep it this way going forward. Maintain the equipment properly and get the men into the habit of using it.”

“Understood. And the matter I wanted to raise……”

Uros straightened himself with full formality and spoke.

“The truth is, I received a request from the eldest young master. He asked me to put the youngest in his place. He said if necessary, I could go so far as to harm you.”

“Is that right?”

The eldest son — someone I hadn’t even laid eyes on — had been looking to have me roughed up?

Well, Uros’s behavior earlier had been a little extreme even by the standards of contempt for a disgraced young lord. That explained it.

Uros said quietly,

“……But I didn’t have the stomach for it. So I was going to settle for chasing you off.”

The body I was in — Rigen — was a frail, sickly thing.

Beating up what amounted to a sick child hadn’t sat right with Uros.

“Understood. But why are you telling me this? The eldest is almost certainly more valuable to you than I am.”

Laying all this out put Uros in a difficult position.

Uros said carefully,

“May I see your hands, Young Master?”

“Want to clap?”

I offered them anyway, quip and all.

Pale, long fingers — the hands of someone who should be playing piano.

Uros examined them and spoke.

“As far as I know, you have never once held a sword, Young Master. And looking at your hands — there’s no trace of it. None at all.”

“And?”

“The footwork, the swordwork you showed just now — it was extraordinary. The weight transfer, the timing of the strike, the breathing…… every single piece was flawless. I wouldn’t have been able to stop it myself.”

Of course not. I was the one who’d done it.

I — Sirik Karakas — had founded the Imperial Army and fought at the front lines myself.

Supreme commander in title, but there had always been too many situations that only resolved when I stepped in personally.

Regardless, Uros had a sharp eye. He’d seen it.

“I couldn’t believe what I was watching. That is genuinely extraordinary natural talent, Young Master. Which is why……”

Uros looked at me with complete seriousness.

“Would you consider becoming my disciple?”

Hold on — isn’t that backwards?