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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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Chapter 3
Ian stepped out of the storage room with the wooden sword in his hand and walked to the center of the empty training ground. He took a stance and began to swing the sword.
The techniques he employed were nothing special, just basic slashes and thrusts.
Whoosh!
At first, every move felt clumsy, as if he were wearing a thick, ill-fitting garment. His swings often missed their mark, and he applied more force than he intended.
To any observer, he would have looked no different from a novice. But Ian wasn’t embarrassed. There was no one around to watch him, anyway. He simply focused, his eyes unwavering, repeating his movements to adapt to his younger body.
Surprisingly, with each swing of the wooden sword, his form gradually improved. The change was evident, happening quickly enough to be noticeable.
This was proof that the vast amount of experience he had accumulated before his return was now being integrated into his current body.
Before long, the wild and shaky swings of the sword drew clean, straight lines.
‘No, it might be clean, but it’s not perfect.’
He couldn’t afford to be complacent. This wasn’t about false modesty; it was about having a clear understanding of his own abilities.
To truly boast, he needed to reach at least level 6. Only then could he rightfully claim perfection.
At least, that was Ian's belief.
“Phew.”
Perhaps because he had been so focused, he hadn’t noticed that the sun had fully risen and his body was becoming quite fatigued. He also realized he was hungry, likely from expending so much energy. As he exhaled and lowered his head, a curt voice called out from behind him.
“Hey, you idiot.”
Startled, Ian turned around. Standing just a few steps away was a man with sharp features, black hair, and red eyes—a familiar face.
Caught off guard by who he was seeing, Ian instinctively called out the person’s name, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Dior?”
Dior. Dior Berger. He was Ian’s second-eldest brother, sharing the same blood.
‘Wait, what’s going on here?’
Ian was utterly confused by Dior’s presence here, as Dior was supposed to be at the main house. Ian tried to remember: Was Dior ever at the villa at this time?
No, that wasn’t right. Not only had he never seen him here, but he also hadn’t even heard any mention of him visiting. Dior, whose name had been called, frowned.
“Has this idiot lost his mind? Forgetting his older brother’s age and just throwing my name around like that?”
Despite Dior’s rough words, Ian didn’t feel angry. In fact, he was just happy to see him.
Before his regression, Ian had left the family to become a treasure hunter, but he hadn't severed all ties with them. Although he didn't keep in touch with his father, the head of the family, he exchanged letters with his siblings, sharing brief updates. Ian prided himself on the fact that their sibling bonds were relatively strong. Among them, he frequently bickered with his second brother.
As Ian stood there, lost in thought, Dior frowned at him.
"Are you not going to answer?"
Even before his regression, Dior had always called him an idiot. Back then, Ian never had the courage to ask why Dior called him that. But now things were different. In fact, seeing his second brother again made him look like a naive kid.
"I didn’t respond because you called me an idiot. Have you forgotten my name because we haven’t seen each other in a while?"
"What else would you call someone who jumps off a cliff chasing a deer? An idiot fits perfectly."
Dior responded with a snort.
"The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. Were you trying to commit suicide under the guise of hunting?"
"Of course not," Ian replied with a frown.
"You're an idiot. I don't think anyone could deny that," Dior scoffed.
"But calling your own brother an idiot? Come on," Ian retorted.
"Shut up. I almost called you an imbecile but decided against it," Dior shot back.
"Fine, have it your way. So, what brings you here? Are you here to relax?" Ian asked, changing the subject.
The sharpness in Dior’s eyes softened for a moment, giving way to a look of sadness.
"I wish it were that simple. You wouldn’t understand, but a 5th-level knight isn’t exactly free. I'm busy as hell, seriously."
"So why did you bother coming all the way out here to the villa?" Ian pressed.
"What do you think? I came to take you back. We can’t just leave you wandering aimlessly forever. So, I came here personally to fetch you. But when I heard you went hunting, I waited, only to find out you’d fallen off a cliff and were being carried back! Who would have thought it would come to this?"
Ah, Ian quickly understood why Dior was here and why he hadn’t met him in his previous life. It seemed that an accident had occurred on the very day Dior came, causing him to leave without even seeing Ian. The staff at the villa hadn’t said a word about it because they were probably instructed to keep quiet.
For a moment, Ian had worried that his past had somehow changed, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and he felt a small sense of relief.
"Just to be sure, you didn't pull that stunt on purpose because you heard I was coming, did you?" Dior asked suspiciously.
"Are you even thinking straight?" Ian replied incredulously.
"With you, it wouldn’t be that surprising."
Ian shook his head.
"It was a mistake."
"I bet it was. It better have been. If not, Mother would have been really sad. Still, seeing you pushing yourself like this so early in the morning, you must be fine, huh?"
"Well, that must mean the priest's healing skills were exceptional. Either that or I just got incredibly lucky."
"I think it’s the former. Wait a minute, how do you even know a priest healed you? You were unconscious, weren't you?"
"How could I not know?"
When Ian woke up, his body was completely healed. Unless he was a 6th-level spirit user with extraordinary regenerative powers or received help from a priest, there was no way that could happen.
"Who called the priest, by the way? Was it you?"
"No, it was Sir Arot."
Arot was the knight responsible for guarding the villa and the name of the old steward managing it.
"Despite his age, he personally drove out with a carriage to bring the priest back. Make sure to thank him later."
"Really? That’s quite touching."
"And there’s also... I don’t know his name, but..."
"Who?"
"The gamekeeper."
"Oh, Seongjin."
"Seongjin? Is he from the Garam Empire or somewhere around there...?"
"Probably. Why do you ask about him?"
"Hmm... Well, make sure to thank him too. He went through a lot carrying you back here."
"Of course. I was already planning on compensating him..."
Seongjin would likely be satisfied with a bit of money, but Sir Arot had accumulated quite a bit of wealth over his years as a knight. Ian suddenly remembered that Sir Arot enjoyed drinking, and it just so happened that there were a few bottles of fine liquor in his room's display cabinet. They weren't astronomically expensive, but they were still rare enough to be considered valuable. Giving him one of those should suffice.
Despite having returned to the past, Ian still had a slight hesitation about parting with the liquor, showing his unchanged fondness for it.
"You don't really need to do that. I’ve already taken care of it. All you have to do is go thank them properly."
"Oh?"
"Oh, what? Never mind. Go grab another wooden sword."
"Why? You want to spar with me?"
"Yeah, I want to see what you’ve got. I heard you’ve been slacking off for the past two years, disgracing the Berger name. But from the way you were swinging that sword earlier, maybe that’s not entirely true. So, let’s find out."
Ian hesitated for a moment. Before his regression, he had reached the level of a 5th-level knight, but how would he fare against Dior now? Dior was a genius who had reached the 5th level at just twenty years old.
‘Compared to him, my current self is…’
At best, I might be at level 2. And even that is a generous assessment.
Moreover, while others have diligently trained and sweated, I've been drinking and hunting, which means my physical condition hasn’t been properly trained.
Since I've regressed, I plan to gradually change things, but I never expected something like this to happen on the very first day.
‘And it seems like there's some misunderstanding.’
It’s not that I’m afraid or anything. In fact, oddly enough, I think I might have a chance now.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“Stop daydreaming and hurry up.”
Frowning, Dior gestured with his chin.
If there had been attendants, they would have been sent, but it was just Ian and Dior—only the two of them.
“Hm. Why don’t you go yourself?”
“Huh?”
Dior looked bewildered by Ian’s suggestion, blinking in surprise.
“Aren’t you going to regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“You won’t go easy on me?”
“Do as you like.”
Dior smirked and then, as if to teach him a lesson, went into the storage room and came out with a wooden sword made of ironwood. He swung it around vigorously.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The sound of the blade cutting through the air was quite sharp.
“Ready? Then come at me.”
Watching Dior, who was raising his left hand and beckoning, Ian let out a small laugh. Wasn’t Dior underestimating him?
Though Dior was indeed a formidable opponent, being provoked like this made Ian want to genuinely surprise him. If it were before the regression, maybe not. But now, he could manage it.
“Don’t you need to change clothes?”
Dior was wearing a red uniform.
It wasn’t the family’s official attire, but it did have the black flame emblem of the Berger family emblazoned on the chest. Dior asked, looking puzzled.
“Is there a problem?”
“If it gets ripped or dirty, it’ll be quite the bother.”
“Oh. Our idiot is worrying about unnecessary things. I guess you’re all set, then.”
Without a referee, there are no official words to start.
Before Ian could even properly assume his stance, Dior had already closed the distance and swung his sword with a sudden attack.
Even without using magic, the speed was considerable.
But Ian saw it clearly. The tip of the wooden sword was aimed at his left shoulder.
Stepping back a pace and dodging the blade narrowly, Ian immediately counterattacked by rushing forward.
Clang!
Although it was easily blocked, Dior was pushed back.
This simple fact gave Ian a thrill and boosted his confidence.
He could do this. Although he had always lost to Dior in his previous life, this time would be different.
In contrast, Dior’s eyes widened in disbelief at what had just happened.
‘Look at this guy?’
Despite adjusting his strength to avoid serious injury, Dior had expected that Ian’s skill was not enough to dodge the attack. Not only did Ian dodge it, but he also counterattacked.
Dior had anticipated that Ian would either be whining like a child after getting hit or would be angry, but instead, he was flustered by Ian’s unexpected response.
‘Was it just a fluke?’
It could be. Sometimes, as the saying goes, "even a cow can catch a rat while retreating."
To confirm, Dior swung his sword again. This time, Ian wouldn’t be able to dodge.
But to his surprise, Ian deflected the attack with surprising precision.
Clang!
At the same time, with a strong recoil, Dior’s wooden sword was pushed away, leaving his chest wide open.
Ian seized the opportunity, pulling his sword back and thrusting it forcefully towards Dior’s midsection, but it was futile.
The reason was simple. It was too slow.
Ian’s untrained body couldn’t generate the instantaneous speed he desired.
However, Ian didn’t let this discourage him. He couldn’t stop. He needed to maintain the flow and continue.
If magic were involved, the battle would change drastically, but this was purely a test of skill and reading the opponent’s moves.
Ian pressed forward boldly, attacking with thrusts, slashes, and downward strikes.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The two moved their feet incessantly, exchanging blows as if they had previously agreed on it. Dior, who had been pushed back continuously, was now showing signs of surprise.
This was no fluke.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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