As the notification disappeared, Piko's voice returned, calm and precise.
"Skill unlocked: Wrist Flick."
Evan blinked. "Wrist Flick?"
Piko explained, "It's a quick flick of the wrist to deliver a fast, short-range cut or slash. Perfect for close combat situations where speed and precision matter more than power."
"In a fight, imagine an opponent closing in. You don't have time for wide, heavy swings. With Wrist Flick, you can strike swiftly, targeting weak points or opening gaps in their defense."
The system continued, "Because it's a short motion, it conserves stamina and allows for rapid follow-up attacks or quick defense moves."
Evan tightened his grip on the wooden sword, picturing how the move might work. He could almost see the flow: fast, precise, and efficient.
"I'll practice it right away," he said, determination sharpening his voice.
Piko replied, "Good. Mastery comes with repetition. Use Wrist Flick well, and it could save your life."
Evan positioned himself in the clearing, gripping the wooden sword tightly. He focused on the motion Piko described—the quick flick of the wrist.
He tried the movement once, but the sword swung awkwardly, missing the imagined target.
"Too stiff," he muttered, frustration creeping in.
He tried again, faster this time, but the strike lacked control. The sword jolted, and his arm ached from the strain.
Minutes passed as he repeated the motion—sometimes too wide, sometimes too weak.
Piko's voice echoed, "The Wrist Flick requires precise control of your wrist muscles. Relax your arm, let your wrist do the work. It's about finesse, not force."
Evan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and loosened his grip.
This time, the wooden sword sliced through the air with a clean, sharp flick.
His eyes snapped open, surprised by the sudden ease.
He tried again, faster, repeating the motion—each strike cleaner than the last.
Sweat dripped down his brow, but determination burned brighter.
"Getting better," he whispered.
Piko nodded silently in his mind, "Good. Keep practicing."
After a dozen more Wrist Flicks, Evan's body began to shake. His arms trembled, and his vision blurred slightly. He pushed through the exhaustion, wanting just a few more clean swings.
But then, his knees buckled.
The wooden sword slipped from his grasp, and he collapsed to the forest floor.
Everything faded into a dull blur.
He woke to the chirping of birds, sunlight slanting lower through the trees. Evan groaned, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
It's already past lunch…!
He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the sword, sprinting back toward the manor.
At the doorstep, Mara stood waiting, eyes wide with worry.
"Evan!" she called, rushing forward. "Where have you been? You didn't come back for lunch—I was starting to panic!"
"I-I'm sorry, Mother," Evan said, bowing his head. "I was training… I didn't mean to lose track of time."
Mara knelt and gently cupped his face, frowning.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard. You only regained consciousness two days ago, remember?" she said softly, brushing sweat and dirt from his cheeks.
Evan looked away, guilt in his eyes. "I just want to get stronger…"
"I know," she said, hugging him tightly. "But don't forget you're still recovering. Promise me you'll take it slow."
"…Okay. I promise."
In the back of his mind, Piko mumbled, "Even I was about to say something. You're one intense brat."
Evan just smiled faintly, leaning into his mother's warmth.
After a quiet lunch with Mara, Evan rested for a while. His body still ached faintly, but it wasn't as bad as he expected. Later, he soaked in a warm bath, letting the tension ease from his limbs.
As he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, a strange realization hit him.
Why… do I feel like I could go another 50 swings?
Didn't I pass out just a few hours ago?
Just then, Piko's voice chimed in his mind, matter-of-fact.
"That would be because of your father."
Huh?
"Lord Alaric Valencrest," Piko continued, "isn't just the head of the house—he's a monster in human skin. His bloodline is abnormal. The Valencrests have refined their sword techniques and physical abilities for generations, constantly evolving."
"Your current body, even though it was weakened by illness before, has now begun to adapt to that same bloodline potential. Your recovery rate, stamina growth, and body reinforcement will keep improving day by day."
Evan blinked in surprise. So that's why… I can already move again like this?
"Yup. But don't let it get to your head. Fast recovery doesn't mean you're invincible. Push too far, and you'll still break."
"I get it…" Evan muttered, sitting up in the bath with new understanding.
So this is what it means… to carry the blood of House Valencrest.
His eyes narrowed with focus.
Then I'll use it… to become the strongest swordsman this house has ever seen.
Evan stepped out of his room, dressed in lighter clothes, wooden sword strapped across his back.
"Bye, Mom! I'm going to practice again!" he called, already heading toward the door.
Mara, who had just finished folding laundry nearby, turned sharply. "W-What!?" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Again? But you just—"
Before she could finish, the door slid shut behind her son.
She stood frozen for a moment, clutching a towel to her chest, heart racing.
He just woke up two days ago… and after passing out earlier, he still wants to train more?
A quiet breath escaped her lips as a strange realization crept into her mind.
Don't tell me… is the blood of his father already beginning to awaken?
She looked out the window, where she could barely see Evan jogging toward the distant edge of the estate.
Alaric was the same at that age. Once he felt the sword in his hand, there was no turning back. Tireless. Relentless.
Her grip tightened on the towel.
But… Evan isn't like him, she thought fiercely. He has a kind heart. I'll make sure he doesn't lose that.
As Evan reached the edge of the forest, a familiar flicker of light appeared before his eyes.
[New Quest Available]
Objective: 20 minutes running + 20 push-ups
Reward: 2 Basic Swordsmanship Skills
He stared at the floating text, breath catching in his throat.
Two skills this time…?
Piko's voice followed right after, cool and blunt as always.
"This is to build your core and endurance. You can't swing a sword properly without a stable frame. Strong legs, strong arms. You want to become a real swordsman? Then get to work."
Evan nodded without hesitation.
"Got it," he whispered.
Without wasting another second, he started running along the soft trail inside the Valencrest forest—flat and mostly cleared, meant for training and patrols. The fresh air and golden light filtering through the leaves kept him going as his feet pounded against the earth.
Ten minutes in, his breath grew heavy. Fifteen, his legs began to burn.
But he didn't stop.
I have to get stronger… for Mother.
Sweat ran down his face. His shirt clung to his back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
Finally, twenty minutes passed. He came to a stop, bent over with hands on his knees, panting.
Piko chimed again. "Next—push-ups. No rest. Sword training demands discipline. Let's see if you've got that."
"...Tch." Evan dropped to the ground, gritting his teeth.
He began the push-ups, arms shaking as he forced himself down and back up.
By the 13th, his elbows were trembling.
By the 18th, his arms screamed in protest.
But he pressed on.
"...Nineteen…"
"...Twenty!"
He collapsed on the grass, breathing ragged.
[Quest Complete!]
Reward Unlocked: Basic Swordsmanship Skills x2
Skill Acquired: Forward Step
Skill Acquired: Guard Breaker
Piko's voice echoed again:
"Good work. 'Forward Step' lets you close the gap with explosive speed—ideal for counters. 'Guard Breaker' focuses strength into a single strike meant to disrupt enemy defenses."
Evan stared at the canopy above, lips curled into a weak smile.
"I'm… really doing this."
Evan lay on the cool grass for nearly an hour, breathing raggedly, his shirt drenched in sweat. His small chest rose and fell rapidly, but gradually began to settle as his heartbeat returned to normal.
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, golden and calm. Nearby, the gentle sound of water flowing caught his attention. With effort, he pushed himself up and stumbled toward the narrow, clean stream running through the forest's edge.
He cupped his hands and drank deeply, the cold water soothing his dry throat and washing away the heat from his face.
"I didn't think… becoming stronger could feel this good," he muttered, watching his reflection ripple in the water. "And to think I can actually learn skills this fast…"
["Don't get cocky."]
Piko's voice dropped into his mind, as blunt as ever.
"Yes, you have potential. Yes, your bloodline helps. But if you rely on talent alone, you'll fall. Fast."
Evan blinked, startled by her serious tone.
"There will always be someone stronger. Someone faster. Someone more experienced. That's why you train, that's why you bleed now—so you don't die later. Got it?"
He looked down at his trembling hands.
"...Yeah. I get it."
He clenched them tightly, his resolve slowly hardening.
"I'm not going to stop. I'll get strong—not just to protect myself, but to protect Mom. And I'll crush anyone who tries to hurt her again."
["Now that's the right mindset."]
Piko didn't sound cheerful, but there was a note of approval in her tone.
Just as Evan wiped the last drops of water from his chin, a voice rang out from the forest path.
"What are you doing out here?"
He turned sharply.
It was her—Lyria, one of the twin daughters of another wife in House Valencrest. Her light blue hair swayed slightly with the breeze, silver eyes locked onto him with that same sharpness she always had when mocking others. A wooden training sword was strapped across her back, and another was in her hand—tilted casually against her shoulder.
Her gaze scanned him, pausing at his sweat-soaked clothes and reddened palms.
"Tch. You? Out here swinging sticks like you're going to be someone?" she said, voice laced with disdain. "Didn't know the quiet little rat could walk this far."
Evan didn't answer immediately. He felt Piko's presence stir faintly in his mind, watching silently.
"I came to train," he said firmly, voice steadier than he expected.
Lyria raised a brow, amused. "Train? You?"
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Didn't you pass out last month after just one hit from me?"
Evan's hand clenched on the wooden sword. "That was then. I'm not the same."
"Oh?" She stepped around him slowly, circling. "So what, one nap in the forest and now you think you're a swordsman?"
["Stay calm,"] Piko's voice echoed in his mind. ["Don't bite. Prove yourself with results, not words."]
Evan exhaled through his nose, keeping his focus. "I'll show you soon enough."
Lyria's smirk faltered just slightly—enough for Evan to notice.
"Hmph. I'll believe it when I see it." She turned her back, tossing one last glance over her shoulder. "Try not to break your arms before we duel again, Evan."
Then she walked off into the trees, silver eyes glinting like steel in the light.
Evan watched her go, then looked down at his hands.
"I'll show her. I'll show all of them."