I still rember it like it was yesterday.
"Yuren, co join us for a drink!"
"Berald, shut your mouth. You’re disturbing my reading."
"Well, if you stay up late reading like that, it’s no wonder Sophia isn’t growing taller, is it?"
"Do you want to die, Berald?"
"Heh heh. Everyone, drink in moderation. As Yuren said, we need to get up early tomorrow."
"So, will you be sleeping in brother’s tent tonight too, sister-in-law?"
"Oh my, that’s another story altogether.""Ha ha ha! How can single n survive this jealousy?"
Back then, everything felt so alive.
Berald and I were guzzling down whatever liquor we could scrounge up, trying to one-up each other with ridiculous stories. Yuren sat cross-legged nearby, reading calmly and shooting us exasperated looks over the rim of his glasses. Sophia was curled up in the corner with a thick book, eyebrows furrowed, barely reacting to the noise around her. And Iris... she was smiling. That warm, radiant smile of hers—gentle, amused, at peace.
Just a normal night. Just another page in our journey.
And now? That page has long since been torn out—burned, buried, and erased.
"Tsk."
A sound escaped , barely audible, but sharp enough to pull back to the present.
I can’t keep wallowing in the past forever.
If the pages of my mories have been torn out, then I’ll just have to write new ones. With my own hands. With the second chance I’ve been given.
And the man standing in front of now, smiling as if he doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his back, is part of that new story.
Berald.
To the untrained eye, he looks carefree—like a guy who’s always lived a good life, with nothing to regret. But I know better.
I rember that laughter. That smile. That rough slap on the back whenever I ssed up.I rember how much he gave up for us. How much he hid.
And now I have the chance to give sothing back.
"Ha ha. By the way, awakening... It seems I won’t need to take redial classes with you anymore, brother," Berald said with a bittersweet chuckle. His voice was light, but there was a tremor in it. "It’s embarrassing to admit, but... I think I might fail again this ti."
I looked at him and held back a sigh. "The sester’s just started. You’ve got plenty of ti."
"Heh heh. That’s true."
But even as he said it, the air around him sagged. His shoulders slumped a little.
"I’ve been learning magic for years now," he muttered, eyes sowhere far away. "And I still can’t even properly cast a simple magic bullet... Heh heh. If that’s not a talent in itself, I don’t know what is."
The smile on his face was self-deprecating, hollow. A mask I had worn many tis myself.
"Anyway," he added quickly, "it’s a relief that at least you, brother, have seen the light this ti."
I said nothing. Just watched him as he tried to hide the weight pressing on him. Most people would’ve been fooled by that smile.
But I rembered.
Back in my past life, Berald didn’t even begin formal martial arts training until much later. He’d been winging it—relying on brute force and instinct. But when he did start training, when he finally committed, his progress was insane. The man was a natural.
That talent was buried inside him, waiting.
And now, here he was, standing before , doubting himself again.
This is the perfect ti.
I had planned to chase down my old comrades one by one. And now, out of all people, fate puts Berald right in front of . If Iris were here, she’d probably say sothing like, "This is the guidance of the Seven Gods."
Maybe she’d be right.
Originally, I was going to sweet-talk Juliet out of so gold to rent a private training ground. But this?
This mattered more.
"Hey," I asked casually, "do you have plans after this?"
"Hm? Nah. Nothing in particular."
"Perfect." I grinned.
He raised a brow. "Why?"
"How about learning martial arts from ?"
⁂
We ended up at Berald’s private training ground. It was nicer than I expected—better than the public academy spaces, that’s for sure.
"As expected of the Ryu family," I muttered as I stepped inside.
Berald rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It’s sothing the family provided."
The soundproof barrier surrounding the area humd quietly. Solid enchantnts.
He changed into simple workout clothes and began stretching out his shoulders.
"So... why the sudden interest in martial arts?" he asked. "Did you forget I’m a magic departnt candidate?"
"The way you said also makes think people mistake you for a warrior departnt student a lot."
"Well, with this build? Can’t bla them."
I chuckled. I rembered that shock clearly. When I first t Berald during supplentary lessons, I genuinely thought he was an upperclassman warrior. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was a year below —and in the magic departnt.
"There’s no rule saying magic users can’t throw a punch."
"Fair point." He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Alright then. If it’s just a light tryout..."
"Not quite." I stepped back and motioned. "We’ll start with a test."
"A test?"
"I need to know your current level before I teach you anything."
He didn’t argue. Just nodded and lowered his stance.
Short breaths. Knees bent. Fists raised at head level.
Despite never receiving formal training, he took up a textbook stance. Natural instincts.
’As expected... he’s got a fighter’s bones.’
I stood still, arms loose at my sides, back relaxed, like I’d just woken up from a nap. I didn’t even raise my guard.
Berald squinted. "Heh. It seems like you’ve gained so profound enlightennt since I last saw you."
He was annoyed. I could see it in the way his grip tightened.
"But let tell you one thing, brother." He raised his left arm.
The Stigma on his chest shimred with light as mana flowed into his limbs.
"I may not know much about magic," he said, "but I’m pretty confident in my fists."
Boom!
With a heavy thud, he surged forward like a damn freight train.
Fist flying at my face, cloaked in mana and force. The wind howled in his wake.
It was a beautiful punch—accurate, sharp, with explosive power. A hit that could knock out most cadets if it landed clean.
"...Well, that’s good."
I moved.
Quick. Clean.
Like a hawk grabbing prey mid-dive, I reached out.
My hand clamped around his wrist.
At the sa ti, I shifted my weight and kicked at his ankle.
And then—I pulled.
THUD!
Berald hit the ground with a grunt, stunned.
He blinked up at , dazed.
I smiled, just a little. "Lesson one: don’t telegraph your punch when your opponent hasn’t even taken a stance."
He stared at , then let out a breathless laugh. "Damn... you’re serious about this, huh?"
"I’m always serious when it cos to my friends."
And this ti, it’s my turn to guide you.
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