Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Chapter 110 : The Swing Without Numbers

(Rooga POV)

Night fell soft and slow.

The stars above the Valemont fields shimred faintly, scattered like pieces of quiet light.

From the porch, I could still hear the faint rhythm of Father’s sword cutting through the night air — steady, patient, endless.

The house was asleep.

Mother’s lamp was out.

Even Cro, who had stayed for dinner, had gone ho, muttering sothing about aching arms.

I should’ve gone to bed too.

But the words from earlier wouldn’t leave my head.

“They work like their lives depend on it.”

“If I can beco a swordsman, maybe I can help them.”

And I’d said, We’re just kids.

At the ti, it sounded right.

Now, it just sounded small.

I walked out into the yard, wooden sword in hand.

The moonlight caught the blade’s smooth edge, faint scratches running down its length from countless swings.

My hand itched to summon the HUD.

All I had to do was think it, and it would appear — numbers, bars, progress, the comfortable truth of my world.

For as long as I could rember, that glowing panel had been my asure of worth.

Every ti it showed movent, I felt stronger.

Every ti it stayed still, I felt useless.

But tonight, for so reason, I didn’t want to see it.

I wanted to know what it felt like to swing without proof.

I took my stance.

The ground was cold beneath my feet, the air sharp against my skin.

I exhaled, raised the sword, and swung.

The sound was softer than usual — no wind split, no spark of mana, just air moving around wood.

I swung again.

And again.

It felt awkward at first.

Each motion asked, Did it count?

And there was no answer.

No bar flashing. No percentage ticking up.

Just , the night, and the weight of my arms.

I kept going anyway.

After a while, sothing changed.

The silence stopped feeling empty.

Each swing began to carry a rhythm — not the HUD’s rhythm, but sothing inside .

The air moved smoother. My breath found its own timing.

And the world, sohow, felt larger.

For the first ti, I wasn’t chasing progress.

I was chasing feeling.

Sweat ran down my face, my arms burned, my back ached.

And still, I didn’t stop.

When I finally lowered the sword, my whole body trembled.

No glowing ssage appeared.

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No number rose.

But I felt… complete.

I looked toward the field where Father always trained.

He wasn’t there now — his sword leaned against the post, the dirt still marked by his steps.

Maybe he wasn’t swinging for strength either.

Maybe he swung for the sa reason the villagers worked, and Cro practiced, and those kids dread —

because doing sothing without knowing the result still mattered.

I sat down in the dirt, staring at my hands.

The calluses hurt, but they were real.

And for the first ti since the HUD appeared, I realized I didn’t need it to tell when I’d grown.

A week had passed since Kain started our daily lessons.

The bruises had faded into dull yellow marks, the blisters had hardened, and our wooden swords no longer felt like awkward sticks — they felt like extensions of our arms.

Each morning began with the sa rhythm:

the sound of wooden blades cutting air, Darius’s even swings behind us, and Kain’s voice barking corrections until the sun climbed high.

But today was different.

Today, Kain stood in front of us with his arms crossed and that familiar grin that always ant trouble.

“Alright, little blades,” he said, pacing in front of us. “We’ve been swinging for a week. Ti to see who’s actually learning and who’s just dancing with sticks.”

The boys shifted nervously.

Cro cracked his knuckles.

I just sighed.

Kain planted his sword into the dirt. “We’re doing a mock spar. Two at a ti. You lose when you drop your sword or land on your back. Simple.”

The first few bouts were wild chaos — swords clashing like clumsy drums, boys laughing even as they fell into the mud.

“Keep your balance!” Kain shouted. “You fight like you’re trying to dig a hole!”

Still, the energy was there — real, alive.

One by one, the boys fought, and one by one they were eliminated until only a handful remained.

Cro stood tall among them, breathing steady, eyes sharp.

And .

I could feel his excitent even before Kain called our nas.

“Last match,” he said. “Cro Alven versus Rooga Valemont.”

Cro grinned. “Been waiting for this.”

I smiled back. “ too.”

We took our stances.

The field went quiet except for the wind.

Even Father looked up from his own training to watch.

“Begin!” Kain shouted.

Cro charged first — fast, a low swing aid for my leg.

I blocked, but the impact rattled through my arm. He was stronger than I expected.

He didn’t stop. His next strike ca from above, clean and heavy.

I dodged, barely.

Kain’s voice rang out. “Good! Breathe through your movent!”

Cro kept pressing, and for the first ti, I found myself cornered.

Each ti I parried, his next swing ca faster.

It wasn’t like sparring against Father or Lyra. This was wild, unpredictable, full of spirit.

I stepped back once — and slipped.

The world tilted.

Cro’s sword ca down toward my shoulder.

And sothing in reacted before thought.

The ground blurred.

For a heartbeat, everything went dark — my body moved on its own, feet sliding across the dirt with impossible lightness.

When I stopped, I was behind Cro.

He froze, confused.

“Wha—?”

Instinct took over. I swung, just enough to tap his shoulder.

Thwack.

Silence.

Kain blinked. “...Winner, Rooga.”

The boys cheered.

Cro turned around slowly, his face sowhere between awe and disbelief. “How did you—? You vanished.”

I blinked, still trying to process it. “I… don’t know.”

But deep down, I recognized the sensation — faint, cold, familiar.

Lyra’s Shadow Step.

A skill I’d seen her use a hundred tis during her moving around the estate.

Only I hadn’t ant to use it.

Kain clapped his hands. “That’s enough for today. Not bad, all of you. Especially you two.”

As the boys dispersed, Cro walked up to , smiling tiredly. “That was amazing. I almost had you, though.”

I laughed. “Yeah… almost.”

He grinned. “Next ti, I’ll win for real.”

I nodded, but my smile didn’t last long.

Because I knew — I hadn’t won properly.

I’d cheated, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

And worse… I couldn’t explain how.

As the others left, Father approached, his sword resting on his shoulder.

“That move at the end,” he said quietly, “you didn’t learn that from Kain.”

I swallowed. “No.”

He looked down at , expression unreadable. “Then learn to control it before it controls you.”

And with that, he turned away, leaving with nothing but the fading echo of his voice — and the strange chill of the shadow that had moved with .