The tutor arrived.
Her name was Roxy Migurdia.
She was a magician with a small frame, blue hair, and half-lidded eyes that regarded us from beneath her bangs.
Honestly, I was a little surprised when I first saw her.
When I heard we were getting a private tutor, I had imagined an old wizard with a white beard, or perhaps an intellectual middle-aged woman.
Instead, the person who came looked like a girl in middle school.
Of course, this world had many different races.
I knew I should not judge someone’s age by their appearance alone.
I understood that in my head.
Even so, I could not shake the impression that she was small.
"First, I will assess your abilities."
That was what Roxy said.
Her voice was calm.
Despite her petite build, she spoke with confidence.
We went out into the yard.
Father and Mother followed us out.
Lilia watched from a short distance away.
And Eugene was there too.
Roxy looked between the two of us.
"Am I correct in understanding that both Rudeus and Eugene will be taking lessons?"
I nodded.
"Yes. Please take care of us."
Eugene gave a small bow as well.
"Yes."
His answer was short.
Roxy looked at Eugene once more.
There was still hesitation in her gaze.
It was probably because of that strange mana she had sensed from Eugene yesterday.
I did not know the details, but I could tell that Roxy found Eugene unsettling.
It made sense.
I felt that way sometimes too.
"I will start with you, Rudeus. Please use the beginner-level spell you are most familiar with."
I raised my right hand.
A beginner-level spell.
Water Ball.
It was the first spell I had ever successfully cast.
Now I could create it without chanting.
I could fire it as well.
I could even adjust its size and compression to some extent.
Of course, I was still nowhere near Eugene.
But by my current standards, I was fairly confident.
"Water Ball."
Water formed at my fingertips.
It did not wobble as it once had.
A little smaller than my fist.
Moderately compressed.
I aimed it at the wooden target in front of me.
The ball of water flew forward.
Thud.
The center of the target was soaked, and some of its bark peeled away.
Good.
Not bad.
I was satisfied with myself.
Roxy’s eyes widened.
"...A chantless spell."
"Yes."
"Who taught you?"
"I practiced by reading books."
It was not a lie.
I had learned the basics from books.
Though Eugene had offered a few words of advice along the way.
Separate size from density.
Do not make the water first. Make water that is already flying.
Do not simply push mana. Determine its direction.
Those words had certainly helped.
Roxy looked back and forth between my hand and the target.
"Its power is within the range of beginner-level magic. But the casting process is unusual."
"Unusual?"
"In a good way. Most children learn the form of a spell through chanting. But you have skipped that process and are manipulating it directly."
I was a little pleased.
That was praise.
My teacher’s first assessment was not bad.
Then Eugene spoke beside me.
"There is still a great deal of waste."
My pleasure immediately cooled.
Could you just stay quiet for once?
Roxy looked at Eugene.
"Did you see the flow of that spell just now?"
"Yes."
"What did you see?"
Eugene thought for a moment.
"The mana disperses before formation. It slows slightly just before firing, and its shape breaks down before it reaches the target."
Roxy’s expression stiffened slightly.
She looked back at me.
She seemed to be checking for the same things.
"...That is accurate."
Accurate, she said.
What an obnoxious little brat.
Still, it was true, so there was nothing I could say.
Roxy fell silent for a moment before speaking.
"Then Eugene, you try as well. Use the same spell."
Eugene nodded.
He raised his right hand.
I tensed up a little at that moment.
Eugene was not good at holding back.
No, that was not quite right.
He probably could, if he wanted to.
He simply did not try to make himself look weaker on purpose.
Eugene merely did what he could do.
Water formed at his fingertips.
It was small.
Smaller than mine.
But in that instant, Roxy’s expression changed.
The droplet floated above his fingertip.
It did not tremble.
There was not even a ripple on its surface.
It simply remained fixed in a perfect sphere.
It looked less like water than a transparent stone.
Eugene moved his finger slightly.
The droplet shot forward.
There was barely any sound.
The next moment, a hole appeared in the center of the wooden target.
No, saying it had been pierced was not enough.
A long furrow had been carved into the earth behind the target as well.
It was as though a thin awl had skewered both the tree and the ground in one stroke.
That was not Water Ball.
Or rather, strictly speaking, it was Water Ball.
A beginner-level water spell.
The most basic spell, one that people learning magic for the first time used to develop their senses.
Yet what Eugene had cast did not look like a spell intended for that purpose.
It looked like the result of someone studying nothing but Water Ball for decades, honing its power, shape, and speed solely to kill people.
It was only supposed to be beginner-level magic.
The most basic spell of the water element.
Did even that become like this when Eugene used it?
That was what I thought for a moment.
Father drew in a breath.
Mother covered her mouth with a hand.
Lilia took a step back.
Roxy did not move.
She stared at the target, then slowly turned to Eugene.
"...Was that also Water Ball?"
"Yes."
"You did not chant."
"There was no need."
"Did you reduce its size and increase its density?"
"Yes."
"And its firing speed?"
"As fast as possible."
As fast as possible.
I mentally clutched my head at those words.
What Eugene meant by as fast as possible was different from what the rest of us meant by it.
Roxy approached the target and examined the hole.
After putting a finger inside to inspect it, she let out a quiet breath.
"This is not the power of a beginner-level spell."
She did not sound as though she were scolding him.
Her voice was assessing the situation.
"Eugene, from now on, please use only the level of power I specify."
"Why?"
"Because it is dangerous."
"I only hit the target."
"What if someone had been standing behind it?"
Eugene fell silent for a moment.
"No one was."
"You cannot always check."
"Then check."
The conversation was going nowhere.
From Eugene’s perspective, he was right.
Just check.
He probably had checked already.
Whether anyone stood behind the target, whether the house would be affected if it hit, which way the wind was blowing.
But ordinary people did not think that way.
Roxy sighed softly.
"Magic is not something you use to the fullest extent of what you can do. You use only as much as you need."
Eugene did not answer.
I did not know whether he understood her words or had decided they were unnecessary.
Then Mother’s voice came flying toward us.
"Roxy!"
Mother was looking at a small tree behind the target.
It was a tree Zenith treasured.
More precisely, the tree itself had not been destroyed.
But the shockwave from Eugene’s water bullet had grazed it, stripping a deep section of bark from one side.
"I would appreciate it if you did not use our tree as a test target!"
Roxy panicked.
"What? But Eugene was the one who—"
"Even if Eugene did it, you were the one who told him to cast the spell!"
Roxy froze on the spot.
She looked as though lightning had struck her right on the head.
"I-I am sorry."
A Water Saint magician.
My teacher.
And yet Roxy bowed her head before Mother.
I thought to myself.
Mother was strong.
It was not about magic.
Mother might be the strongest person in this household.
Eugene looked at the stripped bark.
"My calculation of the damage radius was insufficient."
That was not the time to say that.
Roxy looked even more depressed.
From that day on, whenever she taught us magic, the first thing Roxy spoke about was safety.
"Magic is useful. It is powerful. And that is why it is dangerous."
That was what she said.
"Just because you can do something does not mean you should."
I nodded.
Those words were something I needed to hear too.
In my previous life, I had not even properly done the things I was capable of. Yet sometimes, I had wanted to boast about what little I could do.
I looked down on others because I knew a little about computers and a little about games.
I would not do that this time.
At least, I would try not to.
I did not know how Eugene took it.
Perhaps he understood it as something along the lines of, "Reducing unnecessary damage makes life more convenient."
But after that, Eugene used magic only within the targets Roxy designated.
He reduced his power too.
Though his standard for reducing it was strange.
Even when Eugene held back, his Water Ball was stronger than the one I fired at full power.
Watching that sometimes made me feel as though my motivation might crumble.
But it would not.
It was only that my point of comparison was absurd.
I just needed to grow in my own way.
Aside from that, Roxy’s lessons were good.
She was not the kind of teacher who simply made us read books word for word.
She skipped over what I already knew and explained what I did not.
Even when I asked strange questions, she did not dismiss me immediately.
"Teacher, why is so much magic made for combat?"
"Because it developed in combat. But not all magic is for fighting."
That was how Roxy explained it.
Magic was broadly divided into attack, healing, and summoning, but its practical uses were far more extensive.
Fire could be used for cooking, and water could be used for farming.
Earth could help repair roads, and wind could move ships.
Of course, reality was not so romantic.
"There are few magicians of Advanced rank or higher. So when someone is capable, many people try to make them take on all sorts of work."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Yes."
Roxy answered briefly.
I did not press further.
My teacher had her own circumstances.
As he listened, Eugene wrote something in a book.
The sight of him writing was somewhat strange.
A three-year-old child wrote far too neatly.
Roxy noticed it too.
"Eugene, which part are you curious about?"
Without stopping his pen, Eugene replied.
"Magic in this world offers considerable freedom in manipulating phenomena. But it lacks a proper system."
Roxy blinked.
"It lacks a proper system...?"
"It relies on chanting. Few people use it while understanding its principles."
"...That is not wrong."
Roxy wore a slightly complicated expression.
How would a Water Saint magician feel about hearing words like that from a three-year-old?
If it were me, I might have cried.
But Roxy was admirable.
"That is why we learn, Eugene. You too."
"Yes."
Eugene answered obediently.
When he answered obediently, it was somehow even more frightening.
After about a month, our lessons expanded beyond practical magic into general knowledge.
Roxy taught us about the world.
Monsters and magical beasts.
She said the distinction varied somewhat by region.
Generally, monsters were creatures that harmed humans.
Sometimes, monsters with the form of beasts were called magical beasts.
Some magical beasts could be tamed, while others should never be approached.
I nodded.
It was important information for living in this world.
I had read monster guides, but books alone were not enough.
The stories of someone who had actually traveled were different.
Roxy also explained demonkind.
Demonkind.
When I first heard the word, I had imagined something like devils.
But Roxy shook her head.
"Not all demonkind are evil. Humans often use that term to group together many different races."
Races that lived on the Demon Continent.
Races with appearances different from humans.
People burdened with fear and prejudice because of the memories of ancient wars.
They were called demonkind.
Roxy herself was one of them.
A member of the Migurd Race.
A race with blue hair.
They aged slowly in appearance and lived long lives.
I understood inwardly.
So that was why she looked so small.
I really could not judge age by appearance.
I made myself remember that once again.
"What about the Superd Race?"
I asked.
I had seen that name in books too.
Roxy’s expression tightened slightly.
"...Most people are afraid of the Superd Race."
Roxy explained carefully.
Green hair.
A gemstone on the forehead.
Great combat ability.
A race passed down to children as an object of terror.
I thought about it.
There had been plenty of stories like that in my previous life too.
Everyone cursed and feared a particular name, though they knew little about it in detail.
Few had seen it firsthand, yet everyone thought they knew everything.
This world seemed to have things like that too.
Eugene spoke quietly.
"The information is contaminated."
Roxy looked at him.
"Pardon?"
"Actual danger and inherited fear are mixed together."
Roxy said nothing for a moment.
"Perhaps. But I do not know whether that fear is entirely without basis."
"It should be verified."
"It is too dangerous to go and verify it."
"If it is dangerous, we should find out more precisely."
Eugene was right, but cold.
Roxy did not bother trying to refute him.
Instead, she spoke quietly.
"If you see one for yourself someday, judge then. But until that day, caution is also necessary for survival."
Eugene might not need that advice, but I decided to remember it.
And our magic lessons continued.
In the afternoons, swordsmanship lessons began.
It was Father’s time.
Father was excited.
"All right, Rudy! Eugene! Starting today, I’m going to teach you swordsmanship properly too!"
Father had seemed somewhat deflated during the magic lesson, but the instant he gripped a wooden sword, he came alive.
Father was a swordsman.
Magic was Mother and Roxy’s domain, but the sword was Father’s.
"There are three major schools of swordsmanship in this world."
Father said this with a wooden sword resting on his shoulder.
"Sword God Style, Water God Style, and North God Style."
I listened closely.
Like magic, swordsmanship had ranks.
Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Saint, King, Emperor, and God.
The names alone were cool.
In my previous life, I would have been excited just reading the setting.
Father explained Sword God Style first.
Sword God Style was a school of attack.
You closed in quickly, struck first, and finished the fight in one blow.
You moved faster than your opponent and seized the initiative.
In Father’s words, it was basically, "Cut them down before they can block."
Simple.
But powerful precisely because it was simple.
Next was Water God Style.
Water God Style was a school of defense.
You diverted, received, and countered attacks.
It was good for protecting others or defending yourself.
It was apparently popular among court knights and guards.
Some masters could even ward off magic and thrown weapons, which seemed a little unfair.
Finally, North God Style.
Father said North God Style was closer to practical combat than swordsmanship.
You used objects around you, took advantage of terrain, and fought even while injured.
Survival mattered more than an honorable duel.
I liked this one a little more.
In terms of the games from my previous life, it was a tricky style.
Used well, it was powerful. Used badly, you were just a scoundrel.
Father said he had learned all three schools.
He mainly used Sword God Style, but he could use Water God Style and North God Style to a certain degree as well.
He was more impressive than I had expected.
Usually, Father was a womanizer, carefree, and always getting scolded by Mother. But when he held a sword, his whole air changed.
"First, your stance."
I picked up a wooden sword.
It was heavy.
Quite heavy for a three-year-old body.
It was different from magic.
Magic began with the mind and the senses.
Swordsmanship began with the body.
Where to place your feet.
How to straighten your waist.
How much tension to release from your shoulders.
How to grip the wooden sword.
Everything was difficult.
I quickly realized that this body of mine did not have exceptional athletic talent.
Magic was fun.
Swordsmanship was exhausting.
But I had to do it.
In my previous life, I avoided things I disliked.
I would not run away this time.
"All right, Rudy. Not bad."
Father praised me.
It was probably at least half fatherly bias.
Still, it felt good.
Then it was Eugene’s turn.
Eugene picked up a wooden sword.
The moment he did, Father’s expression changed.
I could tell because I was watching from the side.
Eugene’s stance was strange.
No, I did not know whether strange was the right word.
It was not the stance of a three-year-old holding a wooden sword.
His feet were set low, and his center was steady.
His wrists did not look tense, yet the tip of his sword did not waver.
Still, Eugene looked a little uncomfortable.
"My line of sight is too low."
He said.
Father asked, "Hm?"
"My body is small, so my sense of distance is different."
At those words, I thought to myself.
This guy really did have another body before this one.
Eugene said no more.
But that one sentence was enough.
Eugene was adapting to his current body.
It was not his first time holding a sword.
A small body, low eye level, short arms, short legs.
Those things were what bothered him.
Father swallowed.
"Eugene... have you learned swordsmanship before?"
"I have."
"From whom?"
Eugene fell silent for a moment.
"In my memories."
Another strange answer.
Father looked troubled.
But seeing Eugene hold that wooden sword, he apparently could not just laugh it off as a child’s nonsense.
"Then give it a light swing. Do not put any strength into it. Absolutely not."
Eugene nodded.
The wooden sword moved.
Whoosh.
It made a sound.
Not a sound a three-year-old should have been able to make.
The sword cleaved the air.
Father moved one step.
It was reflexive.
He dodged.
Even I, who knew nothing about swords, immediately understood why.
It had only been a simple swing of a wooden sword, but it looked dangerous enough that being hit would hurt badly.
Eugene did not seem to have put much strength into it.
It looked as though he had merely swung the sword.
But the result was worlds apart from mine.
Father’s face stiffened.
"Again."
Eugene swung again.
This time, he was slower.
Father caught the blow.
Clack.
Wooden sword struck wooden sword.
At that moment, Father’s wrist shifted slightly.
It was only a tiny movement, but I saw it.
Father could not have been overpowered by sheer strength.
Eugene had a child’s body.
His body weight and raw muscle could not possibly compare to Father’s.
But the point where the swords met was strange.
Eugene’s wooden sword had struck the place most awkward for Father to receive it.
He created a great disturbance with little force.
It was skill.
No, it was too natural to call it skill.
"...All right. Stop there."
Paul’s voice was lower than usual.
Eugene lowered his wooden sword.
"This body is inefficient."
"That is more than enough."
Father said.
He was not smiling.
Looking at Father’s face, I thought to myself.
Was Father afraid of Eugene?
Perhaps a little.
But it was not only that.
Father was a swordsman.
There were things a swordsman could recognize upon seeing another swordsman.
Eugene was only three years old.
His body was small, his arms short, and his stamina limited.
Yet that child already knew how to fight.
It went beyond simply having talent.
There was something in him that could not come from a child holding a sword for the first time.
That day’s swordsmanship lesson did not last long.
Father taught me the basics of stance and footwork.
To Eugene, he said not to overdo it.
Eugene obediently complied.
Which was stranger still.
After the lesson, I asked Father a question.
"Father."
"What is it, Rudy?"
"Does swordsmanship use mana like magic does?"
Father thought for a moment.
"Not mana. More like battle aura."
"Battle aura?"
"A power that strengthens the body. As swordsmen grow stronger, they start using it naturally."
"How do you use it?"
Father tapped his shoulder with the wooden sword.
"Hmm... You put strength into your body, then move like this—whoosh!"
I understood absolutely nothing.
Father really was a little lacking as a teacher.
No, let me correct that. He was very lacking.
I asked again.
"Then do you use battle aura too, Father?"
"Of course."
"Do you use it consciously?"
"Consciously? I do not know. It just happens when I fight."
Just as I thought.
He was the kind of person who used it unconsciously.
That would make it hard to learn.
Magic could be analyzed structurally.
But at this point, battle aura was nothing but sensation.
I might have to master it on my own.
Then Eugene spoke beside us.
"I believe it can be replicated."
Father looked at Eugene.
"What can?"
"Battle aura."
Father blinked.
"From that explanation just now?"
"I saw the movement and the flow."
Father was speechless.
So was I.
He saw it?
That?
The flow of bodily reinforcement Father used unconsciously?
Eugene looked down at his own hand.
"However, its efficiency is low. I have little need for it."
That sounded strange.
He did not need battle aura?
Battle aura was important to swordsmen in this world.
Without it, it was difficult to reach the highest levels of swordsmanship.
Yet Eugene said he had little need for it.
Within Eugene, there were forms of enhancement different from battle aura.
YGGDRASIL’s physical abilities.
Skills.
Class bonuses.
Racial bonuses.
But there was no way Rudeus or Paul could know that.
That night, I heard strange sounds again.
Where were they coming from, you ask?
My parents’ bedroom.
I will omit the details.
Staring at the ceiling, I thought to myself.
They were enthusiastic.
In the not-too-distant future, I might get another sibling.
...No, by the standards I knew, it was perfectly normal for families to have more children.
If possible, I wanted a little sister.
I already had a little brother.
And not an ordinary little brother, either.
He was pretty as a doll, quiet as a jewel, and sometimes more frightening than a monster.
It was not that I disliked Eugene.
I did not dislike him, but honestly, if the next child was like him too, I was not confident I could handle it.
I wanted an ordinary, cute little sister.
A little sister who would call me big brother, who would be cute when she smiled and someone I could comfort when she cried.
Please.
In my previous life, if I heard sounds like these, I would have pounded the wall.
I would have struck the floor, shouted, and hated seeing other people appear happy.
Back then, I had been in a dark room.
It felt as though everyone else was above me, looking down on me.
The people who had bullied me, the family that had abandoned me, all seemed to be laughing somewhere beyond my reach.
That was why I was frustrated.
Why I felt wronged.
And why I did nothing.
Now, things were different.
It was a little embarrassing and a little noisy.
But the sounds of this house did not disgust me.
Father and Mother were alive. They laughed, fought, reconciled, and made sounds like that too.
That was life in this home.
And I was part of that life.
Eugene opened his eyes in the bed beside mine.
"It is noisy."
"...You were awake?"
"Yes."
"Does it make you uncomfortable too?"
"The sound itself is uncomfortable."
"What about otherwise?"
Eugene was silent for a while.
"I do not know."
I looked at the ceiling.
Eugene still did not really know.
What a family was.
What parents were.
What it meant for a new sibling to be born.
But unlike before, he said that he did not know.
Perhaps that was a change, however small.
"I hope it is a little sister."
I said.
Eugene looked at me.
"Why?"
"Because she would probably be cute."
"An issue of appearance?"
"No, well, that matters too, but... more like the feeling of it."
"That is difficult to understand."
"You are difficult for me to understand too."
Eugene did not answer.
After a while, he spoke.
"If the next individual is born, Zenith will become busier."
"Do not call them an individual."
"A child."
"Yes, a child."
"When the child is born, the household’s priorities will change. It will need to be observed."
"You really are..."
I sighed.
Still, he was better than before.
At least he had not left.
He dressed it up as observation, but he was still staying in this house.
I decided that, for now, that was enough.
From the next day onward, our routine was set.
In the mornings, we learned magic from Roxy.
In the afternoons, we learned swordsmanship from Father.
I preferred magic.
That could not be helped.
I liked the time spent studying indoors with Roxy. Eugene was there too, of course, but still.
My magic improved visibly.
Whenever I learned something new, I could test it right away.
Swordsmanship was hard.
I sweated.
I fell down.
Father explained things by feel.
He used far too many words like "whoosh," "bang," and "like that."
But I did not dislike it.
Swordsmanship was necessary too.
If I wanted to live this life to the fullest, magic alone might not be enough.
More than anything, Father was happy.
"All right, Rudy! Your stance is getting better!"
Father’s praise made me a little happy.
In my previous life, I had never done anything worthy of my parents’ praise.
I wanted to do things differently this time.
Eugene attended both lessons.
During Roxy’s lessons, he analyzed magical theory.
During Father’s lessons, he examined the movements of swordsmanship.
He showed excitement toward neither.
He merely accepted what he judged necessary.
Roxy found it difficult to evaluate Eugene.
Rudy was a genius.
But Eugene was different.
Rather than a genius, he seemed like something that had already been completed somewhere else and was now adjusting itself to this world.
Sometimes Roxy wore that kind of expression.
Father was the same.
Rudy could be taught.
When scolded, I corrected myself. When praised, I smiled. When I failed, I tried again.
With Eugene, it was less teaching and more confirming.
When Roxy or Father showed him something, Eugene would take it apart within himself after seeing it.
If he needed it, he replicated it. If he did not, he discarded it.
He was not childlike at all.
But to say he was not a child would also be wrong, because there were times when he knew too little.
Whenever Mother stroked his hair, he still stiffened almost imperceptibly.
When Father laughed loudly and clapped him on the shoulder, his reaction came a beat late.
When Lilia brought snacks, he said, "Thank you," but looked as though he did not understand why that made Lilia happy.
Looking at Eugene, I thought to myself.
Being strong and living well were different things.
Eugene was strong.
Comparison itself was meaningless.
His magic, swordsmanship, senses—everything about him was strange.
But he still could not properly accept even Mother’s touch.
For some reason, that stayed with me.
I formed a Water Ball.
I still could not pierce a tree with something as small and delicate as Eugene’s.
But I was better than yesterday.
I picked up a wooden sword.
I was still nowhere near Father’s level.
But I was better than yesterday.
That was enough.
I decided that I would live this life to the fullest.
I would learn magic.
I would learn swordsmanship.
I would cherish my family too.
Whether Eugene thought of me as his brother or not.
Someday, I wanted to teach him too.
That family was not a place where one remained for the sake of efficiency.
With that thought in mind, I raised my hand again.
"Water Ball."
A ball of water formed.
A small, trembling spell that was still lacking.
But it was my magic.
Then Eugene quietly spoke beside me.
"Your aim is slightly off."
I clenched my teeth.
"I know."
I knew.
So I only had to try again.
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