Yuri curled the corners of his mouth into a smirk.
To be surprised this little—this was only the beginning.
He was a man who had lived once and returned. Using memories from his past life, he was confident he could grow much faster.
In the near future, the empire would reveal its ambitions and invade Briol.
Yuri had no intention of standing by and watching that happen.
No matter what it took, he would crush them.
This life would be different.
“Hey.”
Yuri rose from his seat.
“I’m still confused.”
Even after seeing the flow of mana, it was too soon to master the mana method outright.
He needed to experience it more, through his body.
Raising his sword, Yuri said, “Let’s do this properly.”
The dummy mirrored him, sword raised.
Its entire body was transparent, making it impossible to read any expression, but Yuri could swear it looked like the dummy was smiling.
The fight began again.
The dummy pressed aggressively.
It even used lethal moves that shouldn’t be used against a mere thirteen-year-old boy.
Startled, Yuri rolled on the ground to dodge, and the dummy chased him, slamming its sword into the earth.
Yuri kept rolling, barely escaping the attack range.
“So this is all you’ve got…”
Forcing his aching body upright, Yuri grinned.
He never expected his second life to be easy.
As he had told Jared, if you want to grow stronger, you can’t stay in a safe zone. You have to step into more dangerous, more challenging territory.
No matter how talented you are—actually, the more talented you are—the more blood you have to shed.
Humans grow stronger in proportion to the blood they spill.
“Is that all? Come on, show me what you’ve got.”
Provoked, the dummy responded by pressing even harder.
Just defending was exhausting.
But Yuri understood.
This thing adjusted its difficulty to match what he could handle.
So running away now would be to betray the expectations of his ancestor, Erich Briol.
Eyes wide open.
Sword gripped tight.
He focused on the flow of mana pulsing through the dummy’s body.
As he mimicked it, memories from his past life surfaced.
“Imitate.”
When he had just become a mercenary, with only mediocre sword skills, a senior mercenary had told him:
“To be the best, imitate the best.”
Back then, he had resisted the idea. Imitation was just being a copycat.
But with time, he realized imitation was the easiest shortcut to stealing someone else’s mastery.
“Erich Briol, huh…”
The man who had built a dynasty with his sword was, thankfully, tutoring him in person.
He had to absorb everything.
A fire lit in Yuri’s eyes.
He couldn’t afford to miss a single moment.
When Jared opened his eyes, he was standing on the training grounds.
“Huh?”
He looked around.
Had going to the dungeon with the third prince and Kensan just been a dream?
“No way.”
Muttering as he drew his sword, Jared thought, The memory is too vivid for it to be a dream.
He had just been underground at Kensan, fighting alongside a Death Knight, swept up in the energy radiating from a massive mana stone.
So this must be some kind of test.
“Show yourself.”
Something stepped onto the training grounds.
“…”
Jared twisted his lips.
It was a figure identical to him.
In other words, his doppelgänger stood before him, sword raised.
“What’s your name? Are you Jared too?”
The fake answered.
“Jared. Don’t defy your fate.”
Hearing his own voice was a strange experience.
“Fate?”
“You joined the royal guard because you wanted an easy life, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Stay away from the prince. The more you resist fate, the unhappier you’ll be.”
“Fate, huh…”
Jared looked down at the sword in his hand.
It was exactly the same as his own.
He gripped and moved it a few times—no problem using it.
“So if I fight and win, I’ll pass this test?”
Raising his sword, he asked, and the fake mirrored him.
A classic cliché.
Meet your double, fight and win, or die.
“Your fate isn’t with the prince.”
“Maybe because you’re a fake, you don’t know anything.”
Jared stepped forward.
The fake swung his sword.
Jared easily dodged and countered, drawing blood.
Too easy.
He muttered to himself.
“I realized something recently.”
More precisely, it was a thought he’d had after meeting the third prince, Yuri.
“A sword, once swung, can’t be taken back. Rethinking past attacks only clouds your mind.”
The fake resisted, but Jared stopped him effortlessly.
The fake’s swordsmanship was simple—focused on defense, avoiding risk.
Jared understood.
That was him before meeting the third prince.
In the fake’s words, the Jared who hadn’t defied fate.
“Pathetic.”
Judging so, Jared suddenly closed the distance.
Their ranges overlapped.
Without looking away from the danger, Jared swung his sword with wide eyes.
In a brief moment, dozens of strikes exchanged.
The fake was cut into dozens of pieces and collapsed.
No one would enjoy watching their own body torn apart.
“…”
The fake’s body melted into black sludge, then reformed into a massive, shadowy figure twice Jared’s size.
Jared understood.
“The real one’s somewhere else?”
The fake grew larger, transforming into a giant monster.
It scolded him about fate, now blocking his path as a black beast.
Perhaps this was the price for changing fate—fighting a monster like this.
But as he’d said before:
Once a sword is swung, it can’t be undone.
Jared bared his teeth in a grin.
“This is getting interesting.”
Time passed.
Yuri quickly mastered the techniques the Erich dummy demonstrated.
His body was that of a talented boy, his soul that of an experienced mercenary.
He absorbed how to operate the mana method and how to wield his sword accordingly, like a sponge.
The fights with the dummy were a kind of private lesson.
Though there were dangerous moments, the dummy didn’t hesitate to pour everything into teaching Yuri.
Just as he was starting to feel comfortable with the mana method, Yuri suddenly realized how much time had passed.
“How long has it been…?”
He hadn’t noticed, so focused on clashing swords.
He hadn’t eaten or slept, yet he wasn’t tired.
Realizing this now meant the time had come.
Yuri lowered his sword and looked at the dummy.
The dummy relaxed in the same way and met his gaze.
“…”
The wasteland began to fade.
The sky crumbled.
Against the backdrop of a dying world, the dummy waved its hand.
A farewell.
Yuri waved back.
“Thank you.”
You’re welcome.
He thought he heard that voice.
Yuri closed and opened his eyes.
…
Before he knew it, he was standing in the dungeon again.
Blink.
Yuri realized.
Everything he had just experienced was a fleeting dream, passing in the blink of an eye.
Looking back, Jared and Hernando also wore strange expressions.
Their appearances were unchanged, but there was a faint dizziness about them.
The Death Knight, who had been perched atop the mana stone, rose.
[Looks like you had a good dream.]
“What was that just now?”
[It was Erich’s arrangement. He believed that someday a descendant of Briol would come.]
That was half true.
In his past life, no one had come here, and Kensan had been destroyed by the empire.
“Did the founder use this mana method?”
[No. He never used it himself. It’s the final legacy he created by combining the insights he gained wandering the East in his later years. So you are the first to inherit it.]
“Why leave it like this? Why not pass it down through the royal family?”
[Waiting for the right time.]
“The right time?”
[This dungeon won’t open until the time is right.]
The Death Knight’s eyes flared red.
[If the dungeon has opened, it means the power is needed now.]
“What time is that?”
[That’s not for me to say.]
“Then?”
[You must find out for yourself.]
Yuri pressed for more, but the Death Knight remained silent.
[Remember this: that mana method carries Erich’s will. It’s more meaningful than you can imagine.]
Yuri nodded.
As the Death Knight said, Erich’s mana method was utterly alien—completely different from the Briol method passed down through the royal family.
“What’s the name of the mana method?”
[A name, huh…]
The Death Knight hesitated, then answered.
[He called it ‘Shinhonjan’—Heart and Soul Slash.]
It didn’t sound like a typical mana method name, but Yuri understood.
It was both a mana method and a sword technique, inseparable and intertwined.
[Yuri Briol.]
The Death Knight approached him.
Its aura was menacing.
Jared and Hernando stepped forward to block it, but they were thrown against the wall in an instant.
Yuri stood his ground, facing the Death Knight.
[Kneel on one knee.]
“Why?”
[To pass the legacy of the ancestors to the heir of Briol.]
Yuri knelt, showing respect.
The Death Knight placed its hand above Yuri’s head.
[Yuri Briol.]
With his back to the glowing mana stone, the Death Knight’s face was shrouded in deep shadow.
The silhouette of the fallen knight, framed by the blazing backlight, filled Yul’s vision.
“Never fear your enemy.”
Within that shattered, agonized voice, Yul felt as if another voice overlapped—someone else speaking through the darkness.
Without realizing it, he answered.
“Yes.”
The light from the mana stone flickered.
“Do what you believe in.”
“Yes.”
“Fulfill Briol’s duty to the very end.”
“Yes.”
There were no clichés about protecting the weak or doing good deeds.
“Remember this well.”
Suddenly, the Death Knight grabbed Yul by the hair and twisted his head, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Yul had no choice but to look straight into the Death Knight’s face.
A ragged skull.
Glowing red eyes burning within.
The image of death seared itself into Yul’s mind.
The voice slithered down his spine.
“Briol never abandons honor. Even if it costs his life.”
Beyond the skull, the mana stone’s light flared brightly.
The Death Knight’s form began to scatter, dissolving into the air.
He neither released Yul’s hair nor looked away.
With those blazing eyes fixed on Yul’s, he faded away.
“That is Briol’s oath.”
His voice etched itself into Yul’s very soul.
Their escapade, which had started early that morning, finally came to an end as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Yul and his companions returned to the palace as cautiously as when they had left.
The courtiers simply assumed the prince had been slacking off somewhere and had just reappeared.
“Your Highness,” Hernando said to Yul.
“I will report today’s events to His Majesty.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Don’t you think it should be done?”
“Alright. I understand.”
Yul had no intention of keeping it a secret. The matter was too serious for that.
“Jarred, go get some rest. You did well today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Since returning from the sword expedition, Jarred had been out of sorts. Yul was curious about what he had experienced but decided to ask him tomorrow.
After parting ways with the two, Yul didn’t head to his room but stopped by the palace archives.
There, he searched for records of the founding ancestor.
Erich Briol.
He had a brother.
But that brother had abandoned honor and vanished into the shadows of history without even leaving a name.
The exact crime was not recorded.
At least a portrait remained.
A somber-faced man, sword at his side.
“…”
Yul drew the sword he had brought back from the expedition and held it up.
‘Briol never abandons honor. Even if it costs his life.’
A knight who could find no rest even in death.
A sword steeped in regret.
Perhaps a weapon befitting a sinner like himself.
“You were eventually forgiven for your sins.”
Erich Briol passed on his legacy to Yul before passing on himself.
Then when would someone like Yul—who had destroyed a kingdom and shamelessly lived a second life—ever receive forgiveness?
Yul clenched the sword’s hilt tightly.
‘That is Briol’s oath.’