Chapter 7

On the morning of my birthday, after finishing breakfast with my grandfather, father, and mother, I began to speak with a serious expression.

"Grandfather, Father, Mother, I have something to talk about."

I started speaking in a tone that was surprisingly composed for a four-year-old child.

My grandfather asked, "What's this all about?" while my father and mother continued to smile and looked at me.

"I have memories of living in another world."

The three of them were taken aback and said nothing. It seemed my first words were beyond their comprehension.

"In a different world, I was born in a peaceful country called Japan and lived until I was forty-five. I came to this world because..."

I began to tell them that I was a Japanese engineer and that I had spoken with a god in my dreams.

The three of them sighed and shook their heads, trying hard to understand, but they listened to me without interrupting until the end.

When I finished, my grandfather, Gowvan, was the first to speak.

"We knew something was up with you, but we never expected such an outlandish story."

I was disappointed that they didn't believe me, but I was surprised by his next words.

"Well, it's fine. If you were called by a god from another world, we have no choice but to accept it."

"Do you really believe me? Such an absurd story..."

"We have no choice but to believe you. A child barely three years old reading books in Nicholas and Matt's room—when I first saw it, I nearly fainted. The books you read weren't for children; they were more like specialized texts. In our household, only Nicholas and Kate can fully understand them."

Nicholas is one of the servants in our household, Nicholas Garland, who is in charge of managing the Rockhart territory. Kate is his wife, and both are rare intellectuals among commoners who have received proper education.

I was shocked by his words.

(I thought I was hiding it, but it seems I was almost completely exposed. Still, didn't they find it creepy to have such a child around?)

As I was about to ask, my mother, Tanya, hugged me.

"Zack is my child. If he was chosen by a god, that's a wonderful thing."

Then she hugged me even tighter.

"Besides, I never felt anything sinister from you. So, we were waiting for you to tell us."

My father, Matt, also ruffled my hair.

"That's right. We knew you were secretly training. And we've heard the stories you tell Dan and Mel. They are profound fables, indeed."

I pretended to play with Mel and the others while secretly starting my own training.

At first, I began with simple exercises like those done in elementary school, then I asked Walt to hang a rope from a tree branch and practiced climbing it, and even used tree branches for bar exercises. I also added "jump rope" to my training, which is not common in this world.

(Indeed, my play might have seemed abnormal... I seem to be more out of the ordinary than I thought.)

I sighed and turned back to the three of them.

My grandfather asked, "So, what do you plan to do from now on?" and I began to explain my plan to train myself.

"I have a talent for magic and swordsmanship. I want to train to develop these talents. I would like Grandfather to teach me swordsmanship, but I don't know about magic."

"I'll teach you swordsmanship. As for magic... you didn't learn it from the healer, did you?"

I often got injured and visited the healer, Dorothy, where I saw healing magic and asked about the techniques, but I never managed to learn it.

"Yes, I tried to learn from Dorothy, but I couldn't..."

"Your talent for magic is undeniable. In that case, we'll hire a tutor."

I was surprised by his words. Tutors are for noble children, and it's unlikely one would come to such a remote village, and even if they did, it would be expensive.

"I do have a talent, but the cost..."

"Don't worry. I have connections. Besides, it won't cost much."

My father and mother seemed to have an idea from my grandfather's words.

"Are you going to call Lydiane, Father?"

My mother nodded in agreement with my father's words.

"Yes. 'Lydiane' will surely come."

I asked my grandfather about Lydiane, and he explained:

"Lydiane, or rather, Lydiane, is a former comrade from my younger days. She is an elf mage and a genius who can manipulate four elements. She can use a bow and is knowledgeable about the forest..."

My grandfather, who is usually taciturn, spoke at length about Lydiane.

In summary, when my grandfather was in his twenties, he adventured and worked as a mercenary, and Lydiane was one of his companions. She can use four elements—light, wind, wood, and water—and is a versatile mage skilled in both healing and offensive magic. She is also knowledgeable about forest activities, such as setting traps and tracking monsters, and has helped him many times.

(Lydiane must be a woman. Could she be Grandfather's old lover? No, it seems to be a story from around the time Father was born, so I'm not sure.)

I tactfully didn't ask about it and earnestly bowed, asking to be taught by her.

"Lydiane is in Sartuus—a forest kingdom in the north where many elves live. Even if we send a message through the guild, it will take at least three months, and possibly a year, for a response. Is that acceptable?"

I thought the wait would be a waste of time, but since other methods would be expensive, I decided to wait a year and nodded silently.

After that, I began to talk about my life in Japan.

The three of them seemed to understand very little, but they became serious when I said I wanted to use my knowledge for the village.

"It's good to use your knowledge, but if you start too big, your secret might be exposed. Keep that in mind, okay?"

My parents nodded in agreement with my grandfather, and I felt tears welling up.

They were more concerned about me, their family, than about the development of their territory.

"I understand. I'll do it gradually and make sure it doesn't get exposed. I'll consult with Grandfather and Father before starting anything."

We continued talking for about twenty minutes, but it was suggested that talking for too long would be unnatural, so we ended the conversation for the day.

After the family discussion, I sighed.

(Still, I feel like a fool for worrying so much. I thought I was hiding it, but it was completely exposed, and I never expected them to accept it so easily. I guess it's dangerous to think this is normal.)

From that day on, I began training with my grandfather.

When I told Mel, Dan, and Sharon about it, Mel and Dan said they wanted to join.

"Grandfather is strict. You've seen how hard it is for my brother and Sim, right?"

"We want to train with Zack. Mel will do it too!"

"Me too!"

They persisted, and I gave in, saying I would ask my grandfather.

When I told my grandfather, he surprisingly agreed without much hesitation.

"It's better to train with someone your age. But those who can't keep up will be dismissed immediately. Make sure they understand that."

I told Mel and Dan, and they were overjoyed.

I was concerned about Sharon, who looked sad watching them.

"Sharon, what about you? If you want to watch without getting in the way, I can ask Grandfather."

She nodded happily and ran after Mel and Dan, who were heading to the training ground.

(Those three are more like my grandchildren in terms of mental age. I never had children, so grandchildren... I'll get depressed if I think about it, so I'll stop.)

I ran to the training ground after them.

At the training ground, my grandfather Gowvan and the head of the servants, Walt, were waiting.

My grandfather glared at us three sternly.

"You three will start training under me today. Even though you are children, once you hold a sword, you are warriors. Those without resolve should quit now. If you cry, the training ends for the day. Understand?"

We answered energetically, "Yes!" and lined up behind my older brothers.

My older brother Rod smiled kindly and encouraged me, "Zack, you're starting training with Grandfather today. Good luck!"

The friendly atmosphere ended there.

My grandfather gave us suitable wooden sticks and ordered us to practice swinging them.

The practice involved only two movements: a downward swing from above and a horizontal swing from left to right.

We held the wooden sticks with both hands and started practicing, mimicking my grandfather's form.

At first, Dan was serious, but as he got bored, his swings became sloppy.

Seeing this, my grandfather shouted, "Do it properly!" and Dan burst into tears from the intensity. He was then grabbed by the collar and thrown out of the training ground.

(Grandfather is serious. He doesn't care if you're five. If I don't take it seriously, I'll end up the same. Still, I'm getting bored. I guess it's necessary to build endurance, but this is tough for kids.)

We continued swinging the wooden sticks, but I had no confidence that my form was correct.

Looking at Mel, she was swinging the stick with a serious expression, and her form was almost identical to my grandfather's.

(If I had a mirror, I could see. But maybe Mel has more talent. My talent level is three, so I have the potential to become a master. Maybe Mel has even more talent...)

About twenty minutes into the practice, both of us were breathing heavily, and our swings were visibly slowing down.

Whenever our form broke or our speed slowed, my grandfather or Walt would shout at us.

After another ten minutes, Mel collapsed from fatigue.

"Zack, you're still standing! What's wrong, Mel! Are you giving up!"

I thought it was too much for a five-year-old girl.

As if he could hear my thoughts, my grandfather continued.

"Female mercenaries are not uncommon! They start wielding swords earlier than you. If you don't want to lose, stand up! If you can't, you'll be thrown out!"

(The first day is already Spartan. From tomorrow, it will be just me. But I'm also at my limit. My arms won't move...)

For a four-year-old, swinging a light wooden stick for thirty minutes was too much.

I have a goal, so I can continue, but a normal four or five-year-old would probably cry and stop in no time.

Just as I was thinking this, Mel stood up resolutely and started swinging the stick again.

(She has a strong spirit. If she has the same talent as me, she might surpass Grandfather's level of seventy in the future.)

I knew about my grandfather's level from a previous conversation with Walt, who, despite being usually quiet, seemed happy to tell me.

(I don't fully understand how impressive level seventy is, but if Walt is so proud of it, it must be quite high.)

As I was lost in thought, my grandfather's shout interrupted me.

I flinched but quickly regained my composure and focused.

In the end, Mel and I practiced for an hour.

After the training, we both collapsed on the ground.

I was worried about Mel, who looked like she was about to cry from exhaustion.

"Are you okay, Mel? But you did well."

Mel, too tired to speak, just looked at me.

"You don't have to push yourself. This will continue from tomorrow, and you're a girl."

When I said this, she replied, "I'll try. I'll try tomorrow too," with renewed determination.

(She has a strong spirit. Is she really five? I underestimated her. She might get bored quickly, but I respect her.)