Chapter 7 ….
“What are you doing? I told you to stab him.”
Kairun urged the boy, a strange interest flickering across his face.
It was definitely Kairun who had opened his breastplate and exposed his vital spot, yet for some reason, the boy looked terrified.
“Ugh…”
A faint groan escaped the boy’s lips. His hand, gripping the dagger, trembled violently.
He was holding a dagger, and in front of him was Kairun’s heart. Stabbing it would surely mean death.
But then, tears began streaming from the boy’s eyes.
“Please… save me.”
Kairun no longer appeared human. The boy could not fathom how anyone could possibly kill this monster with mere metal.
Kairun, the Genesis Sword. He was the man who had long ago entered the gates of the demon world and plunged a sword into the demon king’s heart.
Hearing the boy’s plea, contempt replaced the interest in Kairun’s eyes.
“Trash.”
Kairun muttered under his breath, then—
Bang!
With a mere flick of his finger, the boy’s head exploded.
Thud—
The boy’s body fell to the ground in pieces, and the knights of Rekrit did not so much as blink.
“All units, mission complete. Victory for Rekrit!”
With that brief report, the war came to an end.
Ikhael’s daily routine was simple.
He would lie quietly in bed, pretending to be a frail young master, then at night, sit before a candle to practice aura cultivation.
“Not focusing on the dantian, but on the heart instead.”
In his previous life, his aura had felt like spreading handfuls of sand across a plain, but the aura of the desert was entirely different.
“It’s like setting fire to a pile of gunpowder.”
It was far more potent and explosive than before. Naturally—after all, it was the power of Phkelon, the desert dragon, thought to exist only in legends.
At first, his aura was faint, like smoke that dispersed when touched, but with repeated practice, it gradually solidified. By now, he burned out candles with each session, needing several more for his practice.
“This growth… is incredible.”
It was a speed impossible to compare with the ordinary aura he had honed in his past life.
“In my previous life, I spent my whole life to reach the rank of seven-star knight.”
That was the result of talent plus effort.
“But now, with Rekrit’s strong body and the desert aura…”
Ikhael couldn’t contain his excitement at the thought of how far he could grow by combining these.
After practicing all night, he would collapse in the morning, melting like candle wax across his bed.
The unaware maids tread quietly to avoid waking him.
“Master Ikhael, you seem very tired lately.”
“Close the door quietly when you leave.”
After a short rest, by afternoon, Ikhael would slip away from the eyes of servants and head to the lower training grounds, perfect for secluded practice.
“Look! Master Ikhael is here!”
“Shh!”
When Ikhael appeared, the knights would freeze in place. Yet, following his order not to acknowledge him, they could not greet him. Those who had mocked him felt especially uneasy, as if sitting on pins and needles.
Regardless, Ikhael paid no mind and picked up a wooden practice sword.
Today, the knights were training by striking wooden dummies. The goal was to accurately hit vital points; striking elsewhere would damage the sword.
“The sword staying intact means you did well.”
A familiar training method. Ikhael gripped the wooden sword and began warming up.
Whoosh.
A single swing swept the dirt from the floor.
Thak, thak—
The sword moved as if it were a third arm, perfectly free.
His body executed movements as his mind intended, almost as if the sword itself was thinking.
“Clearly, Ikhael’s body is not frail at all.”
Even if infused with the desert dragon’s aura, a weak body would be useless. Yet his supposedly frail body was easily handling the desert aura.
In his past life, he had witnessed many knights die when they overreached beyond their limits.
And yet, here he was, absorbing desert dragon aura without prior conditioning.
“Truly… Rekrit.”
Ikhael’s body had taken medicines that stunted his dantian, so it was initially weaker than his brothers. But lying in bed pretending to be frail was just a temporary setback. Catching up was only a matter of time.
This body had once achieved the rank of seven-star knight—no minor difference.
“And now, with desert aura.”
Stronger than anything on Earth, capable of burning even a handful of aura to create a vast desert.
Although the texts on desert aura once seemed absurd, seeing his own body now made him believe it.
Although he had practiced for only a short while, he felt a definite increase in strength. His limbs were sturdy and tireless, as if his heart were radiating heat, accumulating aura three to four times faster and stronger than ordinary.
With desert aura in his superhuman body, if he could master it fully, he would reach heights even his seven-star knight past could not.
Even imagining it made his body tremble.
Meanwhile, the lower knights secretly watched him.
While Ikhael thought he was just warming up, the knights saw differently.
“Truly Rekrit-like.”
They thought. Talent, genius, mastery—words could not describe it better.
Ikhael, already a seven-star knight in his past life, now displayed extraordinary swordsmanship.
The knights swallowed hard.
“Unbelievable. To see Rekrit’s swordsmanship in person…”
The skill alone was another level entirely.
“How much effort would it take to reach this level? Could it even be achieved by effort alone?”
They silently praised him, frustrated that they could not ask him to teach or even show they knew anything.
“Impossible… He swings his sword and doesn’t even get winded?”
Swoosh—
Finally, Ikhael paused. The knights reluctantly averted their gaze, holding their breath. They wished they could applaud, but followed his order to ignore him.
Just when they thought it was over, Ikhael approached a training dummy.
“Master… could it be?”
“Was that just the warm-up?!”
Their suspicion was correct. All that had been warming up; the real training was just beginning.
“Hmm!”
Ikhael cleared his throat to signal them to stop watching.
The knights snapped their heads away, still unable to hide their astonishment.
“The real training of Rekrit, huh.”
All eyes were on Ikhael and the wooden dummy.
Whoosh—
He raised his wooden sword.
Tat-tat! Tak!
Powerful strikes landed on the dummy, fast and heavy. The lower knights stopped their training entirely.
“Even hitting the dummy, not once is the sword damaged. Incredible…”
If a strike missed the vital point, the sword would break, often into pieces. Yet Ikhael’s strikes were precise, like piercing with a finger.
Two lower knights whispered among themselves.
“Master Ikhael… this is unreal!”
“When will his sword break?”
“Will it even break?”
Yet Ikhael’s sword continued striking vital points perfectly. In a real fight, the opponent would have been dead dozens of times over.
“Hey, shall we make a bet?”
“What? A bet?”
One knight, overwhelmed by the display, impulsively suggested a wager.
“If the sword breaks even once, I win. If it stays intact, you win.”
“What…?”
The knight could not tell whether he was at a disadvantage. Even the greatest swordsmen’s focus eventually falters; a sword breaking was just a matter of time.
“But with Master Ikhael…”
The thought occurred that the sword might not break at all.
At that moment—
Crack!
A breaking sound came from Ikhael’s direction.
“Yes!!”
The knight who bet on the sword breaking cheered.
Yet Ikhael calmly looked back at the overseer.
“Apologies, I broke the dummy.”
“Ah, no, Master Ikhael.”
It wasn’t the sword that broke, but the dummy.
“No… impossible!”
“A sword-training dummy breaking… never seen that before!”
No one dared even to breathe until Ikhael left the training grounds.
A senior knight finally shouted:
“Everyone, focus on training! Have you forgotten his order not to acknowledge him?!”
Yet even the senior was equally astonished. Watching Ikhael secretly each time, the surprise only grew.
“Pure Rekrit… is this really the frail young master I know?”
Ikhael, supposedly bedridden, had changed in an instant.
The senior knight wisely kept the secret; the fate of the lower training grounds depended on it.
Yet such immense power could be felt without words. Even if the senior knight remained silent, Ikhael’s strength would reveal itself.
“Perhaps something extraordinary is happening in Rekrit.”
A premonition lingered.
Ikhael wiped the sweat from his brow and returned to the palace.
Creak—
Opening the door, he froze.
The room was in shambles. Blankets and belongings scattered as if by a thief.
The maids, tidying up, looked shocked.
“Master Ikhael… this is—”
He didn’t need their explanation to know what had happened.
‘Isitor… that bastard.’
He could guess. During his absence, Isitor had probably tried to seize Rekrit’s sword.
Ikhael snorted.
‘Not a chance, you fool.’
The legendary sword Crescen was hidden under the bed, a trick he had perfected in his previous life.
‘Still… this is infuriating.’
No true allies in Rekrit? Even if the servants weren’t, imagining the palace knights watching Isitor ransack the room boiled his blood.
‘Prioritizing the stronger sibling, huh.’
To the knights, he was just a frail young master.
“Phew…”
Ikhael calmed himself. Getting angry wouldn’t change anything. Acting recklessly would make him no different from Isitor.
‘Better deal with this directly.’
With that, he quickened his pace.
