Chapter 63

Viola narrowed her eyes, still breathing hard. “Tired of winning, huh? You’ve got a smug way of saying that, you know.”

Ludger didn’t bother denying it. He just folded his arms and looked down at her, waiting.

She squinted, suspicion flickering across her face. “So what—you suddenly feel like being a good big brother when you are just a little brother and helping me out? You’re not exactly the type to share.”

“Think of it as self-interest,” Ludger replied dryly. “If you’re faster, our spars will be less boring. And maybe one day you’ll actually hit me on purpose instead of by accident.”

Her cheeks flushed red. “That was

not

an accident!”

He smirked, deliberately letting the silence hang until her frown cracked. Viola grumbled under her breath, then finally huffed and pushed herself back onto her feet.

“Fine. Teach me. But if you’re messing with me, I’ll make you regret it.”

Ludger shrugged, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. “Relax. I don’t waste time with bad investments.”

She straightened her posture, gripping her practice sword tight, her competitive fire flaring again. “Then hurry up, teacher. Show me how not to look like an idiot when I run at you.”

Ludger cracked his knuckles, his smirk sharpening.

Good. Let’s see if the system’s knowledge can actually transfer.

Ludger stepped back, tapping his shin guard with one finger. “Alright. First thing—speed isn’t about running away. It’s about

burst

. If you learn how to increase your speed in short intervals, you can overwhelm your opponent before they can react. That’s what I use: a technique called Dash.”

Viola tilted her head. “Dash?”

“Think of it like this,” Ludger said, crouching low and sliding one foot forward. “Instead of just flooding your whole body with Overdrive, you dump everything into your legs for just a second, your stamina. Not long enough to burn yourself out. Just enough to explode forward and cover the gap.”

He pushed off, a short sharp step that carried him three paces in an instant. He stopped just as suddenly, balanced, smirk tugging at his lips.

Viola’s eyes lit up. “That was fast.”

“Exactly. And if you add that to your swings? You’re not just hitting harder—you’re hitting faster than they can track. Most people can block a predictable charge. They can’t block a burst that comes out of nowhere.”

He circled around her, voice flat but precise. “Right now, you waste your Overdrive by keeping it on too long. You’re like a torch burning both ends. Strong for a second, but sloppy after. If you learn to fire it in bursts? You’ll be sharper. Deadlier.”

Viola clenched her fists around her practice sword, eyes gleaming. “So… short, explosive steps. Like setting off a firecracker under my feet.”

“Exactly,” Ludger said, his smirk widening. “But controlled. Firecrackers burn out. Fighters don’t. That’s the difference.”

He motioned to the courtyard. “Try it. Focus your Overdrive in your legs, but only for a heartbeat. Don’t run.

Burst.

”

Viola grinned, aura already sparking at her calves. “Finally! Something fun.”

Viola crouched, aura already flaring around her legs. “Alright!”

She kicked off the ground with all the grace of a drunk horse, blasting forward two steps before her foot caught unevenly. She sprawled across the courtyard grass, face-first with a loud

thud.

“Ow!” she groaned, rolling onto her back, her sword clattering away. “That wasn’t a burst, that was a

suicide charge!

”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “You dumped too much energy at once. If your legs were weaker, they’d have snapped like dry twigs. Try again—less output, more control.”

Over the next hour, she tried. And failed. And tried again. Sometimes she stumbled, sometimes she overcorrected, sometimes she nearly barreled into the wall. Every mistake came with groans and muttered curses—but also with a little more control each time.

By the second day, she managed to cover three meters in a flash without falling on her face. By the third, her bursts started to look like genuine dashes—short, sharp movements that left even Ludger’s eyes narrowing to track her.

And on the fourth day, she grinned, dripping sweat, and lunged at him with a proper burst, sword swinging just a little too close for comfort.

Ludger tilted his head, her blade whistling past his ear. He smirked, crossing his arms. “Not bad. Took you long enough.”

Viola’s grin widened, wild and proud. “Told you I’d get it!”

She bent over, panting hard, but the light in her eyes was fierce. The bursts were still rough, unpolished, and she burned out too fast—but the core was there.

Ludger watched her catch her breath, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

So even without the system, she’s learning. Not bad, idiot.

As Viola grinned at her clumsy success, Ludger leaned back against the courtyard wall, arms folded. He let her catch her breath while his mind wandered.

She’s not like me. No system, no neat little windows telling her when she levels up. And yet… she’s closing the gap. Fast.

The system made things easier. It shoved skill knowledge straight into his head, smoothed over mistakes, filled him with instincts veterans took years to build. But watching Viola flail and then adapt piece by piece made him realize something important.

It isn’t impossible for others. Harder, sure. Slower. But not impossible.

She had no shortcuts—only raw instinct, and stubbornness. And with just a few pointers, she was already replicating the basics of Dash. That meant the knowledge wasn’t just locked inside his own skull. It could be

shared.

Ludger’s smirk tugged at his lips, slow and thoughtful.

So if I taught others the same way… if I broke down what the system feeds me and handed it out… anyone could look like a genius. Anyone.

He flexed his fingers inside the armguards, a faint hum of mana sparking under his skin. That thought was both dangerous and tempting.

Knowledge makes geniuses, not gifts. The system isn’t just for me—it’s a library. And I’m the only one who can open the books.

Viola stumbled back to her feet, wobbling slightly but still grinning. “What’s with that creepy face?”

Ludger blinked, smirk snapping back into a flat look. “Just thinking how much of an idiot you are. Don’t worry about it.”

She scowled, puffing her cheeks. “Tch. I’ll show you who the idiot is when I master this.”

Ludger only shrugged, but inside, the thought lingered:

Maybe one day, I’ll make geniuses out of more than just myself.

Viola was still grinning, twirling her wooden blade like she’d just conquered the world. Ludger was about to call the spar done when a shadow passed into the courtyard.

Luna.

She moved as silently as ever, her calm gaze flicking from Viola’s flushed, sweaty face to Ludger leaning against the wall. “How did you make her progress so quickly?”

Ludger shrugged, as if it was nothing. “Just gave her a few tips.”

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, measuring, then shifted back to Viola, who was bouncing on her toes like a restless wolf pup.

Ludger tilted his head slightly, voice low, just enough for Luna to hear. “Worried she’ll get stronger than you?”

No reaction. Luna’s expression didn’t flicker, her calm as unshakable as ever. It was as though the question hadn’t even touched her.

Ludger smirked.

Of course. She wouldn’t bite.

“Hey!” Viola’s voice cut in as she stomped over, sweat still dripping down her face. “What are you two whispering about?”

Ludger straightened, smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothing. Just talking about how reckless you look when you run at me.”

Viola puffed her cheeks, glaring between the two of them. “Hmph. Whatever it was, you better not be leaving me out of it.”

Luna bowed her head politely, offering nothing. Ludger just shrugged again, feigning disinterest. “Relax. If it was important, I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

Viola’s scowl deepened. “You’re impossible!”

Ludger’s smirk only widened.

And yet, you’re still learning.

The days blurred into drills, sparring, and bruises. What started as clumsy bursts turned into sharp lunges, and what had been sloppy swings became strikes Ludger actually had to respect.

Every morning, Viola came at him fiercer, faster. Her Overdrive bursts into her legs carried her across the courtyard in a blink, her arms flaring with strength as she chained attacks together. She still wasted mana, still burned herself out—but she was learning. She was closing the gap.

And that meant Ludger had to push harder. He trained his Dash until his legs burned raw, refined his Silent Steps until his body ghosted over the stones, forced himself to weave Quickstride into every motion until it felt like second nature.

Two weeks in, Viola came at him in a blur, wooden blade clashing against his guard so hard his bones rattled. For the first time, Ludger had to bring up his red-and-silver armguards to absorb the blow. Sparks danced as enchanted steel met aura.

The courtyard rang with the sound of their clashes. Neither of them held back, sweat flying, bruises blooming fresh every day. To anyone watching, it wasn’t play anymore—it was a duel.

And when they finally broke apart, panting, Ludger caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

The gates were open.

Standing there, weapons slung over their shoulders, travel cloaks ragged with dust, was Arslan and his party. Selene, Harold, Aleia, Cor—and Arslan himself, shocked despite the weariness etched into his face.

All of them looked tired, the road and war carved into their posture. But their expressions told another story.

Shock.

Shock at the intensity of what they were watching. Two children, sparring with the ferocity of seasoned fighters, blows too sharp, too heavy, too deliberate for their age.

Viola straightened, sweat dripping down her chin, blinking at the sudden audience. Ludger lowered his guard slowly, his chest heaving, eyes narrowing as he studied their faces.

None of them spoke. For a moment, the courtyard was frozen—two slightly blood-soaked prodigies on one side, five seasoned adventurers staring back in disbelief.

The silence finally broke—not with Arslan’s booming laugh, but with Selene’s hard voice.

“What in the hells…” she muttered, eyes narrowing at Viola. “Two months ago, you were all wild swings and wasted energy. Now you’re chaining bursts like you’ve been drilling for years. What happened?”

Cor adjusted his spectacles, gaze sharp as he studied the sweat-drenched girl. “She’s not just swinging harder. Her timing… her mana control. It’s crude, but there’s real discipline in it now. That kind of improvement doesn’t happen in days. It takes months—years.”

Viola puffed out her chest, wiping her sword on her sleeve. “What happened? Talent, obviously.” She grinned, panting but defiant. “I told you I’m a genius.”

Selene folded her arms, unimpressed. “Don’t lie, girl. Genius or not, even natural prodigies don’t jump this fast without a push.”

Viola opened her mouth to protest, but Ludger beat her to it. He exhaled, smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s not lying completely. She

is

reckless enough to get herself killed, and that makes her learn faster than most. But…” He tilted his head toward her. “The truth is, I taught her.”

Viola blinked, her grin faltering. “Hey! You didn’t have to—”

Ludger shrugged. “What? You wanted all the credit?” He turned back to Selene and Cor, his tone flat. “She picked up some tricks I’ve been working on. Short bursts of movement, better footwork, managing her Overdrive in small doses. Nothing fancy. Just enough to make her less predictable.”

Cor’s brow furrowed, clearly unsettled. Selene’s arms tightened across her chest, her eyes flicking between the siblings.

“And you’re telling me,” Selene said slowly, “that

you

broke it down for her? Like a veteran drilling a recruit?”

Ludger smirked, deliberately casual. “What can I say? Maybe teaching is my hidden talent.”

Viola scowled at him, cheeks red. “Tch. He makes it sound like he did all the work.”

But the way the adventurers looked at him—shocked, concerned, and faintly wary—told Ludger everything he needed to know. His little “experiment” hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The party fell into hushed conversation, voices low but sharp. Selene gestured toward Viola, clearly still doubtful. Harold scratched his beard, muttering something about “damn little monsters growing up too fast.” Cor’s tone was colder, clinical, already dissecting every detail he’d just seen. Even Arslan, for once, stayed quiet, his grin crooked but uncertain.

Ludger only half-listened. His thoughts were elsewhere.

So she really did improve that much, huh?

He tapped his armguard absently, mind turning. Maybe this was another hidden edge of the system. Not just feeding him strength and skills, but something subtler.

The more masters I have—the more techniques I absorb—the sharper I get. Every skill, every level-up, it doesn’t just make me stronger. It makes me understand better.

It wasn’t only instinct. It was knowledge, burned straight into his head, refined with every improvement. And now that knowledge wasn’t locked inside him. He could pull it out, explain it, hand it over to someone else piece by piece.

That’s why teaching Viola had worked. Why she’d made leaps instead of baby steps.

The higher my skills go, the easier it is to explain them. The clearer the patterns become. The more I can break them down for someone who doesn’t have the system holding their hand.

He smirked faintly, though his gaze stayed lowered so no one noticed.

Which means if I want to, I can make others grow almost as fast as me. Not because of the system itself—but because I’m the only one who can translate it.

The thought was equal parts thrilling and dangerous.

Behind him, the adventurers’ voices grew sharper, Selene questioning, Cor analyzing, Harold scoffing. Viola stood with her arms crossed, still trying to look smug through her exhaustion.

Ludger just listened, filing it all away, the weight of his realization pressing in his chest.

The system makes me strong. But the knowledge it gives me? That’s mine to share—or not.

The murmurs from Selene and Cor didn’t last long. Arslan finally broke the silence with a booming laugh that filled the courtyard.

“Hah! Look at you two!” He spread his arms wide, grinning ear to ear despite the lines of fatigue carved into his face. “My son and my daughter, already fighting like proper warriors! Makes me want to challenge you myself.”

Viola perked up instantly, her chest puffing with pride. Ludger only crossed his arms, smirk tugging faintly at the corner of his mouth.

Arslan wagged a finger at Ludger. “And you, boy… teaching your sister how to fight smarter? That’s not just clever—that’s downright noble.” His grin widened into a mischievous smirk. “Maybe you should ask her grandfather for compensation. You know how he gets about family pride. He’d probably throw you a bag of gold for raising another prodigy under his roof!”

Selene groaned. Cor pinched the bridge of his nose. Even Harold gave a dry chuckle.

Viola tilted her head. “Compensation? Wait—”

Arslan coughed into his fist, realizing a second too late how badly that sounded. “Er—what I mean is, of course there’s no need for rewards between siblings. You’re family. You help each other, that’s how it is.”

Viola crossed her arms, satisfied with that answer. Ludger just stared at his father, unimpressed.

Loose tongue as always.

He let the silence hang for a moment, then cut through it with a flat question. “What happened at the border?”

The grin faded from Arslan’s face. The cheer stayed in his voice, but the lines around his eyes deepened as he set his pack down with a heavy

thump.

“That,” he said, lowering himself onto the courtyard steps, “is a long story.”

The rest of his party shifted, their fatigue suddenly more visible in the way they dropped their gear. For the first time since stepping into the yard, they looked less like returning heroes and more like soldiers carrying too much weight.

Ludger’s eyes narrowed, his smirk gone.

So it wasn’t a victory march.

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