[Claude POV]
Clang!
The sound of clashing swords echoed through the morning air, ringing out across the village. The metallic symphony continued for some time until it abruptly ceased, followed by a triumphant burst of laughter that could only belong to one person.
"I'm sure Paul is trying to assert his dominance towards his 6-year-old son... What a great father he is, how childish," I called out loudly, making certain my voice carried far enough for the laughing man to hear. Of course, I knew exactly who was laughing.
As expected, the laughter stopped instantly. From where I stood, I could see Lilia chuckling behind her hand while Zenith waved to me, clearly having anticipated my arrival. Both women stood in the yard, their silhouettes altered by their growing conditions.
"Hey, Zenith, Lilia!" I greeted them cheerfully, waving as I approached.
Their bulging stomachs were impossible to miss. It had been three months since their pregnancies became public knowledge. I hadn't interfered in this particular incident, though Paul's reputation for infidelity had only grown more infamous throughout the village.
No one had expected that Paul would actually impregnate his maid, even though everyone knew Lilia worked in their household. The scandal had rippled through our small community like wildfire.
Even my father had been furious when he received the news, going so far as to smack Paul across the head when they met at the local pub one evening.
"You already had a babe of a wife, yet ye dare to touch your maid? You mad, man?" my father had roared while pummeling him, his face flushed with indignation and ale.
The villagers didn't necessarily scorn Paul for impregnating Lilia—such arrangements weren't unheard of—but they were incensed by his drunken attempts to blame Lilia for what had happened. This had infuriated the others, and my father had punched him squarely in the face, igniting a legendary brawl that evening.
My father was no pushover in a drunken fight, being considerably stronger than his lean frame suggested. Years of swinging hammers at the forge had hardened his muscles and toughened his hands to the point where a drunkard's punch barely registered.
Though, if I'm being completely honest, my father did end up bedridden for several days after that confrontation... After all, Paul was a former adventurer who regularly dealt with monsters that threatened the village. His combat techniques were beyond what my father could handle.
Cough—I definitely didn't say anything about my father being badly beaten—cough.
Paul hadn't emerged unscathed either. After my father went down, several other villagers took their turns teaching Paul a lesson. Strangely enough, they all became bosom buddies after the brawl, the shared violence somehow cementing their friendship rather than destroying it. Such was the peculiar social harmony of our village.
I'd even spotted Somar's mother sighing in relief when the news broke, holding her husband's hand and looking at him with renewed appreciation. Poor Somar had pouted for days because his father's attention had suddenly shifted entirely to his mother.
This pregnancy situation marked an important moment where Rudeus and Lilia's bond would deepen in the original timeline. Though I didn't play with Rudeus as frequently as before, he remained deeply attached to Sylphy. Not that I particularly cared, but if memory served, it should be around the time of the babies' births when he'd be sent to Eris's household. That would be a pivotal moment for his development.
"Here are the knives and other kitchen utensils I made," I said, presenting a cloth-wrapped bundle to Lilia. "Consider it payment for Paul's teaching."
"Oh my, you don't have to do that," Zenith protested gently, her voice as melodious as ever despite her condition.
"No, I need to do this; otherwise I'd feel like a shameless sponger... I'm 8 years old, after all!" I declared proudly, intentionally letting some childish enthusiasm show. It was important to act my supposed age occasionally.
"Fufufu, then I'll gladly accept these. Thank you, Claude," Lilia said, carefully examining the quality of my craftsmanship with an expert's eye. The sunlight caught the polished metal as she turned a knife over in her hands.
"You're welcome, Lilia."
"That's the tact I like, Claude! As expected of my disciple," Paul suddenly announced, emerging from around the corner with sweat glistening on his brow from his recent training session.
"No, please, just don't say I look like you when you were young," I retorted, squinting my eyes dramatically. "I've already learned about your past from Lilia. I won't become a lecher like you, Paul."
"Hey! That's rude!" Paul protested, then turned accusingly toward Lilia. "Damn, Lilia! That was supposed to be our secret..." His complaint earned him a withering glare from the maid.
I couldn't deny Paul's perverted tendencies. It was obvious that Rudeus had inherited them without consciously realizing it. But his past life's knowledge provided a restraint that Paul had never developed.
Well, Rudeus was an old man inside, after all.
It could be a global brand—many young-looking people harboring the minds of the elderly inside youthful bodies...
Hmm...
The advertising slogan "Intel inside" could be replaced with "Oldies inside." Do you get it? Or was that reference too dated to joke about? I couldn't even remember what Intel actually was, though the phrase still sounded amusing in my fractured memories.
I chuckled at my own internal joke.
Anyway, I'd come here primarily to deliver the kitchen implements to Zenith and Lilia, but I had another purpose as well—presenting Paul with his newly forged sword.
"Here you go, Paul..." I said, handing him the weapon while simultaneously gesturing for Rudeus to approach.
"What is it, Claude?" Rudeus asked, walking over with curiosity etched on his face.
"Call me big brother Claude first, then I'll tell you," I teased, watching his reaction carefully. I could almost read his thoughts.
He must be thinking that I was just a child, while he had been decades older than even my father before his reincarnation. But he couldn't reveal that, so he'd have to swallow his pride and play along.
"What is it, big brother Claude?" he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly in resignation. He had learned that when I acted this way, I usually had something worthwhile to offer, so he complied despite his reluctance.
I reached into my pouch and extracted a small object, placing it in his palm.
"It's a bangle," I explained, watching his eyes widen as he examined it. "I used the same magic circle from your wand to empower it. You can use it in emergencies, but don't channel too much mana through it. The enchantment would break..."
In the background, I heard Zenith and Lilia gasp audibly. Paul stared at me with eyes as wide as dinner plates.
What? What was wrong with them?
"Whoa... Are you for real, Claude?" Paul blurted out, surprise saturating his tone.
"What? What's wrong with it?" I asked innocently.
"I mean, a magic circle? Wouldn't that make it a magic tool?" he questioned, his voice rising with each word.
"Uh, obviously. What did you expect?" I shrugged. "It's the only successful one, though. The others are scrap... It only amplifies spell power by half of what I intended, but I can make it better in the future..." I added, not bothering to hide my pride.
"Whoa... Zenith, is this child a monster in a different way? An 8-year-old enchanter? And a blacksmith to boot?" Paul marveled, genuine astonishment brightening his features.
"Praise me more, hahaha! I am a genius!" Their reactions delighted me, though Rudeus's peculiar expression brought me even greater satisfaction.
"See, I told you I'm awesome," I said, playfully patting Rudeus's head.
"I... see..." he managed, clearly processing this new information about my capabilities.
Despite my success with enchanting, I had failed to learn any advanced spells no matter how diligently I practiced. Rudy had begun to look at me with something resembling pity, which infuriated me to no end. My dream of becoming a great magic swordsman seemed to be fading into impossibility...
I later learned that mastering intermediate Sword God style combined with beginner-level magic was already considered extraordinary for most adults. Sylphy and Rudy were the anomalies—a saint-class mage and an advanced-grade wizard at such tender ages.
By now, I could easily defeat Rudy in sword combat, so much so that Paul had started allowing him to use magic against me during our sparring sessions. Damn that father—he couldn't bear to see his son lose and made excuses to give Rudeus an unfair advantage.
Leaving behind their astonished gazes and unspoken questions, I suddenly drew my sword and lunged toward Paul.
"Let's start our training!" I declared, the blade gleaming in the sunlight.
"Haha! So you've begun with sneak attacks nowadays?" Paul grinned, effortlessly shifting into a defensive stance. "Be ready to get your ass kicked!"
And so our fight began in earnest, the clash of metal on metal filling the yard once more, while Rudy slipped away to find Sylphy, his treasured bangle clutched tightly in his small fist.
[Lilia POV]
I remained astonished that Paul had suddenly acquired a disciple with such remarkable talent.
From my careful observations, I could tell that Claude often regarded Paul's lessons as somewhat rudimentary, and I knew well enough that Paul wasn't particularly skilled as an instructor. His teaching style was haphazard at best, brutal at worst.
Nevertheless, consistent practice facilitated the child's learning process. Claude absorbed knowledge primarily through observation. Paul didn't need to teach him physical conditioning because, by the second week, the child had developed a training regimen far more rigorous than anything Paul would have prescribed.
In truth, Claude trained himself more intensively than what my father had taught Paul and me in the past, when we were both serving the Notos household.
It wasn't surprising that he had reached the intermediate level by age seven. With that kind of dedicated training, he would likely surpass my own skills within another month.
Wait a minute...
Now that I considered it more carefully, Claude demonstrated aptitude with all elemental magic...
All attribute affinity combined with near-intermediate-grade healing spells.
At the mere age of seven, Claude had already grown stronger than me in several respects. I had never witnessed him engaging Rudeus with spellcraft, but I planned to question Paul about this later. From my own knowledge and observations alone, I could discern that he possessed advantages over Rudeus in multiple areas.
Setting aside his combat capabilities, the simple fact that he could create functional magic tools would enable him to live luxuriously in the royal capital if he chose. Such skills were rare and highly sought after.
He could also forge exceptional knives, swords, and kitchen implements of a quality far beyond what an ordinary apprentice should be capable of producing, even one born into a blacksmith's family.
"What the hell is wrong with this village's children?" Zenith murmured in wonderment as we watched the sparring match between Paul and Claude.
Zenith must have been following the same train of thought as myself...
"It seems there's something we don't fully understand," I remarked quietly.
"Oh, you think the same as me?" Zenith turned to me, her expression reflecting my own puzzlement.
"Yes, Claude is certainly... quirky."
"Indeed. Sylphy's the same... she's already reached an advanced level, you know?" Zenith confided. "Not to mention that both children can cast chantlessly. It's comparable to a swordsman who can utilize his techniques without wielding an actual sword." Her hands rested protectively over her swollen abdomen as she spoke.
Now that she mentioned it...
What an extraordinary lineup of children our humble village had produced.
I couldn't begin to comprehend what these children might ultimately be capable of achieving. And there was another peculiar matter—the unusual vigilance of the villagers regarding slave traders.
This heightened awareness was uncommon. As someone raised in the capital, I knew the annual number of people taken into slavery was enormous. There should be no feasible way for a small village to protect itself from all the potential slavers disguised as traveling merchants.
However, even Paul had noted the strange pattern of slaver corpses discovered outside the village perimeter. There were always telltale signs of monster attacks, but the slaves themselves were consistently absent from these grim scenes.
Although our village was reasonably large, its militia consisted primarily of men like Law, Sylphy's father. While not Paul's equal, Law possessed fighting skills comparable to my own. Since the rumors about slave traders began circulating, more volunteers had joined Law's training sessions, and nightly patrols had become routine.
The villagers behaved as though constantly afraid their children might vanish in the night.
Even so, none of these volunteers possessed the capability to decimate organized bands of slavers. Not even the child prodigy Claude could accomplish such feats alone...
This situation raised numerous questions in my mind.
I couldn't help but suspect that someone was systematically eliminating the slavers, liberating their captives, and then disguising these activities as monster attacks.
I wasn't complaining about the outcome, but I couldn't suppress my curiosity about the identity of this mysterious protector...
Who could possibly be powerful enough—and motivated enough—to undertake such dangerous work in secret?
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