[Rudeus POV]
"Ruijerd Superdia, have a match with me."
The challenge came so suddenly that I dropped my spoon mid-bite, the metal clattering against my bowl as soup splattered across the table. Everyone around us fell silent.
I stared at Claude, searching his face for any hint of jest, but found only cold determination in those eyes that always seemed to see straight through me. Eyes that carried a weight no child should bear.
What's wrong with this brat? Has he completely lost his mind?
Ruijerd, ever stoic, merely nodded his acceptance. No questions, no hesitation—as if dueling a child was the most natural thing in the world.
He rose from his seat with fluid grace, his movements carrying the casual confidence of a predator who has never needed to question his place in the hierarchy.
The rare sunshine bathed the Great Forest in golden light as we followed them outside, the brightness almost jarring after days of perpetual gloom beneath the canopy.
I glanced at Eris walking beside me and caught the unmistakable gleam in her eyes—that familiar spark that ignited whenever combat was mentioned.
I sighed. "This girl really is a battle maniac."
"What was that?" Eris demanded, her attention momentarily diverted from the impending duel.
"Nothing," I muttered, turning back to watch Claude squaring off against a centuries-old Superd warrior. "Just wondering which of you is the bigger combat enthusiast."
[NARRATOR POV]
The metallic screech of the coffin being dragged across the ground set everyone's teeth on edge. Claude pulled it relentlessly, the iron box leaving deep furrows in the dirt as villagers covered their ears against the grating sound.
"What's that thing?" Ruijerd asked, his eyes narrowing slightly—the most curiosity he'd shown all morning.
Claude's lips curled into a half-smile. "This?" He patted the iron surface with surprising affection. "My scabbard..."
With a theatrical flourish that belied the intensity in his eyes, Claude released the seals on his weapon box. The air around it shimmered as space itself seemed to fold inward.
Weapons emerged one by one, materializing from what appeared to be an impossible void. First came axes—small hand axes followed by massive two-handed behemoths larger than Claude himself.
Then swords of every conceivable design: curved sabers, straight longswords, dual-bladed monstrosities that defied conventional form.
Spears followed, then daggers, maces, war hammers, and finally, incongruously, an anvil and blacksmith's tools.
The audience collectively gasped. Even the most battle-hardened among them couldn't hide their amazement at the arsenal emerging from the small coffin.
By the time Claude finished unloading, nearly a quarter of the sparring ground lay covered in meticulously arranged weaponry, each piece placed with deliberate precision.
"I know he's a blacksmith," Rudeus muttered, eyes wide, "but isn't this excessive?"
"Wow! Rudeus!" Eris tugged at his sleeve, her eyes shining with childlike wonder that rarely surfaced beneath her fierce exterior. "How is that even possible? What kind of magic is that?!"
Gyes, standing nearby with a group of Beast folk, turned to Rudeus. "I also want to ask you the same question, Rudeus-sama." His voice carried unmistakable respect tinged with awe.
Rudeus shifted uncomfortably under their expectant gazes. "Ugh, I'd like to know that myself... It must be one of Claude's artifacts. He's an enchanter, so that should allow him to create an inventory space for weapon storage."
He paused, brow furrowing as he analyzed the phenomenon, muttering formulas under his breath. "I see. That means Claude is adept at space-time magic. But he hasn't reached greater mastery, which is why the coffin still drags dirt along with its movement."
While some villagers exchanged confused glances at this technical explanation, the village elder nodded thoughtfully, his weathered features revealing understanding.
"Which means the coffin remains heavy because, while he could create more space within, he couldn't reduce its weight. Is that what you mean, Rudeus-dono?"
"Yes, exactly," Rudeus confirmed, slipping comfortably into his role as magic expert. "From what I've read, weight reduction enchantment is practically unheard of in this era. Even space-folding spells are considered lost knowledge..."
Claude's voice cut through their theoretical discussion. "I apologize for the wait." His tone was formal, but something in it—perhaps the faintest tremor of anticipation—betrayed his youth despite his best efforts.
"It's nothing," Ruijerd replied, his spear held loosely at his side. "I could wait longer if needed."
Claude's eyes swept over his arsenal with a critical gaze. "No, this is sufficient. Though varied, I can sense my weapons are brittle compared to yours."
"Of course." Ruijerd ran his hand along the shaft of his spear with unmistakable pride. "This is a Superdian spear. Created from our body, it strengthens the longer we wield it. After 400 years, I can say without doubt it surpasses any weapon you possess."
Claude's expression darkened, something ancient and cold flickering behind his eyes. Then, without warning, he vanished.
"How—" Ruijerd's instinctive exclamation was cut short as Claude reappeared directly before him, sword already mid-swing.
"—boastful!" Claude finished, his blade singing through the air.
Metal met metal with a resonant clang that echoed through the clearing. Ruijerd had parried the strike with casual precision, deflecting Claude's momentum and sending him skidding backward.
"Impressive," Ruijerd acknowledged, a newfound respect entering his gaze.
Rudeus blinked rapidly, struggling to process what he'd just witnessed. "Wait—did anyone see that? Eris? Gyes? Elder?" He turned frantically to the others. "He just... appeared in front of Ruijerd!"
The three seasoned fighters—Eris, Gyes, and the village chief—all shared looks of bewilderment. Despite their combat training, from the youngest to the most experienced, none had perceived more than instant teleportation.
"As expected from a veteran," Claude called out, shoulders heaving slightly as he regained his stance. "You've encountered this magic before?"
Ruijerd twirled his spear thoughtfully. "It's been many years since I witnessed Time Magic. Even in ages past, time manipulation was mastered by only a handful of exceptional mages."
For the first time, genuine surprise registered on Ruijerd's stoic features. "Time magic typically requires king-class mana capacity. Even during Laplace's conquest, time mages were exceedingly rare."
"I appreciate the compliment," Claude replied, voice steady despite his labored breathing.
The young enchanter wielded a longsword with practiced precision, his movements deliberate yet fluid.
Despite his obvious skill, Ruijerd responded with measured restraint, his centuries of experience evident in every effortless counter and parry.
It was clear to all observers that the Superd warrior was holding back, guiding rather than dominating the exchange.
Claude had known from the outset that victory against Ruijerd was impossible, but even he seemed surprised by the ease with which the warrior maintained control of their bout.
Each movement created a spectacle for the growing audience. Villagers whispered among themselves, disbelief in their voices as they watched a child Eris's age displaying combat prowess that surpassed their head warrior.
"You've broken all your swords," Ruijerd observed as Claude's latest blade shattered against his spear. He stepped back, lowering his weapon. "What will you choose next?"
Instead of answering, Claude launched a throwing knife toward Ruijerd's face. As the Superd deflected it with practiced ease, Claude darted toward a massive hammer—a trophy from the Ancient Troll he'd fought.
"This might be strong enough to handle your spear!" he called, hefting the enormous weapon with surprising strength.
The hammer crashed down with earth-shattering force, sending tremors through the ground. Ruijerd sidestepped the attack, but his eyes narrowed as he studied the weapon.
"That hammer..." Recognition flashed across his features.
"You recognize it?" Claude's eyes gleamed. "I took it from the Troll. I mentioned it before."
"The one that severed your arm, I presume?"
"That's—" Claude vanished again, reappearing directly before Ruijerd, the hammer already swinging horizontally, "—right!"
The air whistled as the massive weapon sliced through where Ruijerd had stood a fraction of a second earlier.
The Superd had dodged by the narrowest margin, but Claude's momentum carried him into a spin, forcing Ruijerd to retreat further.
While Ruijerd contemplated a counter-attack, Claude abruptly hurled the hammer toward him. The unexpected projectile struck with startling force, drawing a rare sound of discomfort from the warrior.
"Success at last!" Claude crowed, already lunging forward with a spear. "Now try this!"
From the sidelines, Gyes shook his head in disbelief. "Is this person truly a human child? Could he be a Demon masquerading with a youthful appearance?"
"I can assure you he's my childhood friend," Rudeus replied, watching Claude's relentless assault with a mixture of awe and dismay. "Though I never knew he was this powerful."
"I see why he's disappointed in you," Eris observed bluntly. "Wasn't Claude struggling to keep up with you just 3 year ago?"
"A year ago..." Rudeus murmured. "Is this transformation due to his Mana Burst?"
"Mana Burst?" Gyes inquired.
As Rudeus recounted the story of Claude's mysterious magical awakening, the village elder listened attentively, his ancient eyes tracking the combatants' movements.
"No," the elder finally said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I suspect his latent talent was merely pushed to its limits after your separation."
"Then what explains his strength?" Eris asked, her attention still fixed on the ongoing battle despite participating in the conversation.
"Notice the inconsistencies in his skin tone," the elder prompted, nodding toward Claude.
"Yes..." Rudeus squinted, studying the patchwork appearance of Claude's exposed skin.
"Those aren't disease markings," the elder continued, his voice grave. "They're healed injuries." He pointed as Claude narrowly avoided a strike, revealing fresh wounds appearing along his arms. "Observe how his current injuries heal progressively. The small wounds leave no scars, but what about his entire arm and those patches across his body?"
Rudeus, Eris, and Gyes watched in stunned silence as the implications sank in.
"The child has faced life-threatening situations repeatedly during your time apart," the elder concluded softly. "Experiences that forge strength like nothing else."
"Life and death..." Rudeus whispered, the pieces falling into place. "The Mass Teleportation..."
On the battlefield, the duel was reaching its conclusion. Weapon fragments littered the ground around Claude as he struggled for breath, sweat streaming down his face.
Ruijerd approached him steadily, his body bearing only superficial scratches despite the intensity of their exchange.
"Truly impressive," Ruijerd acknowledged, genuine respect evident in his tone. "For someone Eris's age—no, for any warrior—you display remarkable skill, Claude."
"Yet still not your match," Claude replied between labored breaths, disappointment etched across his features.
"If you could match me after mere years of training," Ruijerd said solemnly, "I would have wasted my centuries of existence."
"Alright... I concede defeat." Claude glanced at his remaining weapons—just the hammer and a glaive. "I never expected a Sword Saint to challenge a Superdian Spearman... but to inflict only scratches... how disappointing..."
His voice faded as consciousness slipped away, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion. He collapsed onto the weapon-strewn ground, the façade of the hardened warrior momentarily stripped away to reveal the child beneath.
[Rudeus POV]
I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails bit into my palms, drawing blood. The sparring ground before me lay littered with broken weapons—physical manifestations of the gap between us. Each shattered blade reflected my inadequacy in harsh, gleaming fragments.
Mortification burned through me like acid. How did this happen? When had Claude—my student, my junior—surpassed me so thoroughly?
I wanted to dismiss it, to rationalize it away as obsession. He was unnaturally driven, perhaps even unhinged in his pursuit of strength. I wasn't like that. I wasn't crazy.
He was a prodigy. I was... what? A reincarnated adult who should know better, who should be more.
My pride—the last vestige of my former life—screamed in agony at the humiliation. I had lived decades before this life began.
I possessed knowledge and experience that should have placed me leagues ahead of a mere child, regardless of his talent.
Yet the evidence lay shattered across the ground, undeniable in its finality.
I still remembered teaching him magic, explaining theories he struggled to grasp. On paper, I remained superior.
My magical ranking still exceeded his, my theoretical knowledge more comprehensive.
But theory doesn't parry a blade or save a life when death lunges for your throat.
"Don't think too much, Rudeus," Eris said beside me, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "He may be stronger physically, but you're far superior in other knowledge. You're amazing too!"
I turned to her, bitterness coloring my voice. "You see, Eris, Claude is also my disciple in magic, just like you. Don't you remember?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "He's my senior?"
"Yes," I confirmed, the admission like gravel in my mouth. "The time he spent training with swords and magic is less than mine. But look at him now. He can forge weapons after learning from his father, create enchantments with just a simple wand. How long do you think it took him to master all that?"
Eris considered for a moment, her brow furrowed. "Years?"
"Two years," I specified, the number burning like an indictment. "From seven to nine years old."
"That's incredible..." Genuine amazement filled her voice.
"By now, he's undoubtedly surpassed my father," I admitted. "When I left the village, he was only marginally stronger than me. Now? I couldn't match him without ambushing him."
"Don't diminish yourself," Ruijerd's deep voice interrupted as he approached us, Claude's unconscious form carried effortlessly in his arms. "You're young still. And you possess that magic eye. You have room to grow."
"Thanks, Ruijerd," I managed, grateful for his steadying presence. This was why I valued our stoic Superd companion—his unwavering support without unnecessary sentiment.
"Right!" Eris chimed in, punching my shoulder with enthusiasm that nearly knocked me over. "You're better at magic mastery! You just need to refine it!"
I offered her a small smile, the gesture feeling fragile on my face. "You're right, Eris. I'll work on that."
After expressing our gratitude to Ruijerd for his encouragement, we made our way to the grave Claude had constructed days earlier. Withered flowers drooped over the freshly turned earth, their petals curling inward like hands in prayer.
Words were etched into a simple marker: "To my friend's parents, may you rest in peace."
Eris read the inscription aloud, her usual brashness subdued by the solemnity of the place.
"Claude's friend..." I murmured, searching my memory for connections.
"It's Somar's parents."
Claude's voice startled us—I hadn't noticed him regain consciousness or follow us to the grave. He approached with fresh flowers clutched in his hand, his movements stiff from exertion. "Do you remember them?"
I watched as he knelt, replacing the withered blooms with fresh ones, his hands trembling slightly from exhaustion.
"Somar... the heavier boy?" Fragments of memory surfaced—a child who had joined Claude in tormenting Sylphy.
"Yes, the one who started the fight between you and Paul," Claude confirmed, his voice lacking its usual edge. "The woman who fell for your father and became the village scandal."
Realization dawned. "Oh... that woman."
"I apologize for blaming you for their deaths," Claude said quietly, adjusting the flowers with unexpected gentleness. "You couldn't have known."
Though his words absolved me, I couldn't shake my culpability. All this time, I'd deceived myself—convinced that I alone had suffered this misfortune.
My fear of confronting reality had kept me from the notice boards, from information that might have prepared me for the truth.
"Information gathering," I acknowledged, the familiar refrain now a damning indictment. "You always emphasized it, but I neglected it completely."
"Perhaps I expected too much," Claude sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "To think a child under ten would remember advice given in jest..."
Even knowing he was unaware of my true nature, the condescension stung. Acknowledging my mistake was one thing, but being dismissed as a mere child by someone younger was another wound entirely to my pride.
"Urgh," I grunted, unable to offer a defense.
"Regardless, I've improved my skills," Claude continued, rising to his feet. "I could forge better swords for you and Eris, if you'd like. Though I admit I can't yet create a staff to rival yours."
"Of course it's amazing!" Eris interjected proudly. "My family searched extensively for that staff to give Rudeus on his tenth birthday!"
Claude's expression shifted, something resembling genuine humor flickering across his features. "Right, birthdays... I won't be giving you any presents since you never remembered mine."
The realization struck me like a physical blow. "I... I don't even know when your birthday is," I admitted.
"I might be your future brother-in-law," Claude replied with unexpected playfulness, "but that's still theoretical. I remain your elder, right Eris?"
"I absolutely forbid you from going anywhere near my sister, you scoundrel!" The words burst from me before I could stop them.
"Hey! He's older than you. I'm older than you!" Eris chimed in, standing next to Claude with her hands on her hips. "Show some respect!"
"Yeah! Respect us!" Claude mimicked her pose, an uncharacteristic display of childishness.
"Eris, don't copy him!" I protested. "He's a terrible influence!"
"Ughhh, Water Ball!" I channeled mana through my staff, conjuring spheres of water in frustration.
"Whoa, he's attacking!" Claude dodged effortlessly, a genuine smile breaking through his usual mask of seriousness. "Run, Eris, run!"
"Run!" Eris cackled, darting away with Claude.
I watched them flee, laughter trailing behind them like scattered petals, and felt something tighten in my chest.
For just a moment, Claude had looked his actual age—a child playing rather than the burdened, driven warrior who had faced Ruijerd.
Something about that transformation hurt worse than any of his criticisms.
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