Reincarnation of the Swordmaster Chapter 5

Reincarnation (4)

“You! You dare to attack a nobleman!”

Luke screamed, his eyes flipped in rage. However, Asher was equally startled.

‘I didn’t intend for this.’

He was only planning to feint and parry minimally. Thus, he attacked lightly, but Luke failed to block even that.

‘In my days, this was nothing.’

He felt the passage of time. Asher lifted his head; Luke was still screaming.

“It’s a death sentence! A death sentence!”

“Young master.”

What was done was done. It’s irreversible, so it was time to change tactics.

Asher, twirling his axe, walked towards Luke.

“Let go! Let go, damn you!”

“Young master.”

He grabbed his arm. The delightful young master struggled fiercely but was immovable, like a deeply rooted tree.

“Young master.”

“Ugh. Ah…”

With calm eyes, he asked again. Luke’s face turned progressively paler and asked with a smile.

“Young master.”

“Go, go away!”

“Young master, I had no intention of hurting you. You know that, don’t you? That this is all forced by you.”


“Young master.”

He whispered softly into his ear. A voice so low and soothing it was comforting, yet eerily out of place.

“I did not intend to hurt you. Do you understand?”

He repeated his words. Their eyes met. The young man’s yellow eyes were visible. Cute. With a faint smile, Luke’s face went paper-white.

‘What, what is this?’

It was different. Usually cringing, yet arrogant eyes were not there. Unemotional. Alien. Suddenly, a wave of fear surged through his mind. Asher whispered again.

“Young master. Your response?”

“Ah, okay! Just let me go, please!”


He released his arm. The young master hastily backed away, glanced briefly at Asher, then ran off, trembling in shock.


Asher hooked his axe to his belt. It had been a while since he used that approach. It had been over forty years since his youth. He worried if it would work, but it seemed effective against such a child.

Suddenly, the surroundings were quiet. Asher glanced around; the villagers were staring at him silently, free from any contemptuous looks.

“This is going to be troublesome.”

He murmured softly and moved on. It was time to work.


Step. Step. Step.

The girl moved forward. People she met bowed deeply, but she paid them no mind and roughly opened the door.



“What is it, miss?”

A calm voice replied. A boy with ash-grey hair was lying on a haystack, reading a book. The girl frowned.

“A book? You can’t read, can you?”

“I learned.”

“In a week?”

“It seems a place was made for new things when a blank occurred in my memory.”

“You’re really strange. And about today too.”

Reyka asked with an uncomfortable face. Asher closed the book.

“Are you referring to the incident with the young master?”

“Yes. The whole village is buzzing with rumors. The servant threatened the lord’s young master. What were you thinking?”

“Threats? It was a mutually agreed conversation. That’s unfair.”

“Unfair my foot.”

Reyka narrowed her eyes.

“Be honest. You targeted him, didn’t you?”

The result of this incident was nothing more than Luke’s reclusion. Asher faced no punishment. It was unprecedented for someone who had threatened a successor of a noble land.

If Asher had directly threatened Luke, the lord wouldn’t have stayed quiet. Punishment would have been inevitable.

Or if Asher had simply let Luke go, then Luke would have spread the word. Though weakened, the nobility still held authority. In such a case, it would have been difficult for Asher to maneuver.

But Asher did neither. He neither left Luke alone nor did he act harshly. He only showed the minimum response required to be seen as the victim. In reality, Asher simply dispelled any misunderstandings.

“Thanks to your brother’s usual antics, that ends this story. You face no punishment. Was this the outcome you anticipated?”


Asher smiled calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean. I’m merely a child, not yet of age. How could I think of such things?”


Reyka scraped the floor. Asher had changed too much since his memory loss. He seemed too different to be considered the same person.

‘That’d be a good thing, though.’

Can a person change this much? That was on her mind. Memory loss had made Asher more skilled, his speech antiquated, and his demeanor calmer. She had never heard of memory loss changing everything before. She had never seen memory loss itself before.

“People suddenly

“If I change, I die.”

“Don’t try to kill a healthy person.”

“Or maybe go far away.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Asher responded immediately. He had no intention of leaving until he was of age. After all, he needed to build at least a minimal physique.

“Sigh, fine. I should train too.”

Reika drew her sword. She took her stance and began swinging. Twisting like a snake, she traced afterimages. Asher watched her intently.

‘She indeed has talent.’

He had given advice, but it was only a conversation from a few days ago. Although she might understand it mentally, physically adapting to it would take time. However, her movements already followed the advice.

It would be surprising to find a proper swordsman in such a small village, so she probably didn’t have a master. She had trained alone with just her books and had reached a level incomparable to her peers.

Even having seen such talent repeatedly in his past lives, it was still impressive. That didn’t make him feel any sense of inferiority, though.

He too drew his sword, aligning it at his waist and lowering his stance.

Reika stopped her sword.

“Are you going to train as well?”

“There’s still time left. Are you going to stop, miss?”

“No, just.”

She leaned back against a stack of hay, watching Asher with interest.

“Let me see you swing your sword.”

Her look was one of longing and anticipation—not something he saw often.


Asher swung his sword.


The line drew through the air. He twisted his wrist and cut upwards, stepping forward with his body lowered. The bent wrist drew a wide arc, cutting broadly in front.

It felt awkward. There was a disconnect between his mind and body.

Two ways to recover: elevate his physical abilities to his past life’s level, or allow his mind to adapt to his body. Both methods would take time, but time was all he had.

He stepped back and made an uppercut. Reika watched him intently.

‘…What’s that?’

She was still raw. Despite her talent, she had no master and had experienced no real combat. Plus, her learned swordsmanship was from Lephenia; she wasn’t qualified to judge others’ skills.

Yet, she admired Asher’s movements. They were refined to the extreme, with no wasted motion, noticeable even to someone inexperienced like her. Reika muttered dazedly,

“You really do have talent.”


Asher stumbled. He barely caught himself from falling. Clutching his throbbing ankle, he looked at Reika. What did she say?

“I feel like I heard something strange.”

“You have immense talent.”

“Ha, that’s a joke.”

Asher waved his hands dismissively. He had nearly fallen over. Reika wiggled her feet with a puzzled face.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. Think about it logically. You’ve only been handling a sword for about a week, right? But you’re almost perfectly performing the swordsmanship. Even the Imperial Swordsmanship is impressive. Plus, you’ve given me useful advice. If that’s not talent, what is?”

“…I guess you could see it that way.”

Regardless of his mindset, he appeared as a mid-teen boy who had only been wielding a sword for a short time. However, his movements were more than those of an experienced swordsman.

It was natural, perhaps expected, for Reika to think so.

But he couldn’t even contemplate that thought.

He didn’t have talent. Far from being average, he wasn’t even a dullard. Both in his past and present lives, talent was as foreign to him as a fairy tale.

“Ah, I wish I had talent like yours.”

“Miss, you have talent.”

“I’ve heard that often but can’t really feel it. There’s no proper swordsman around here.”

“Then let me assure you. Miss, you possess considerable talent. And I have none.”

“Again with that. Then what is this?”

“This is not talent.”

Not some innate, convenient thing. Decades of repetition. A realm reached through his own efforts.

Being lumped together under the term ‘talent’ displeased him.

“So please, miss, do not envy others’ talents. It gains you nothing.”

He had seen countless people warped by despair over their own lack of talent. He could not understand them.

“I know it’s frustrating. Ah, but what were you reading anyway?”

“A history book. Though to call it that might be an overstatement. It only covers the last twenty years or so.”

“Why is that? Ah, right. You had amnesia. I keep forgetting. What’s your impression then?”

“Let’s see. Well.”

He muttered with a complex expression.

“…Quite a lot has happened.”

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