I still remember it like it was yesterday.
"Yuren, come join us for a drink!"
"Berald, shut your mouth. You're disturbing my reading."
"Well, if you stay up late reading like that, it's no wonder Sophia isn't growing taller, is it?"
"Do you want to die, Berald?"
"Heh heh. Everyone, drink in moderation. As Yuren said, we need to get up early tomorrow."
"So, will you be sleeping in brother's tent tonight too, sister-in-law?"
"Oh my, that's another story altogether.""Ha ha ha! How can single men survive this jealousy?"
Back then, everything felt so alive.
Berald and I were guzzling down whatever liquor we could scrounge up, trying to one-up each other with ridiculous stories. Yuren sat cross-legged nearby, reading calmly and shooting us exasperated looks over the rim of his glasses. Sophia was curled up in the corner with a thick book, eyebrows furrowed, barely reacting to the noise around her. And Iris... she was smiling. That warm, radiant smile of hers—gentle, amused, at peace.
Just a normal night. Just another page in our journey.
And now? That page has long since been torn out—burned, buried, and erased.
"Tsk."
A sound escaped me, barely audible, but sharp enough to pull me back to the present.
I can't keep wallowing in the past forever.
If the pages of my memories have been torn out, then I'll just have to write new ones. With my own hands. With the second chance I've been given.
And the man standing in front of me now, smiling as if he doesn't carry the weight of the world on his back, is part of that new story.
Berald.
To the untrained eye, he looks carefree—like a guy who's always lived a good life, with nothing to regret. But I know better.
I remember that laughter. That smile. That rough slap on the back whenever I messed up.I remember how much he gave up for us. How much he hid.
And now I have the chance to give something back.
"Ha ha. By the way, awakening... It seems I won't need to take remedial classes with you anymore, brother," Berald said with a bittersweet chuckle. His voice was light, but there was a tremor in it. "It's embarrassing to admit, but… I think I might fail again this time."
I looked at him and held back a sigh. "The semester's just started. You've got plenty of time."
"Heh heh. That's true."
But even as he said it, the air around him sagged. His shoulders slumped a little.
"I've been learning magic for years now," he muttered, eyes somewhere far away. "And I still can't even properly cast a simple magic bullet… Heh heh. If that's not a talent in itself, I don't know what is."
The smile on his face was self-deprecating, hollow. A mask I had worn many times myself.
"Anyway," he added quickly, "it's a relief that at least you, brother, have seen the light this time."
I said nothing. Just watched him as he tried to hide the weight pressing on him. Most people would've been fooled by that smile.
But I remembered.
Back in my past life, Berald didn't even begin formal martial arts training until much later. He'd been winging it—relying on brute force and instinct. But when he did start training, when he finally committed, his progress was insane. The man was a natural.
That talent was buried inside him, waiting.
And now, here he was, standing before me, doubting himself again.
This is the perfect time.
I had planned to chase down my old comrades one by one. And now, out of all people, fate puts Berald right in front of me. If Iris were here, she'd probably say something like, "This is the guidance of the Seven Gods."
Maybe she'd be right.
Originally, I was going to sweet-talk Juliet out of some gold to rent a private training ground. But this?
This mattered more.
"Hey," I asked casually, "do you have plans after this?"
"Hm? Nah. Nothing in particular."
"Perfect." I grinned.
He raised a brow. "Why?"
"How about learning martial arts from me?"
⁂
We ended up at Berald's private training ground. It was nicer than I expected—better than the public academy spaces, that's for sure.
"As expected of the Ryu family," I muttered as I stepped inside.
Berald rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's something the family provided."
The soundproof barrier surrounding the area hummed quietly. Solid enchantments.
He changed into simple workout clothes and began stretching out his shoulders.
"So... why the sudden interest in martial arts?" he asked. "Did you forget I'm a magic department candidate?"
"The way you said also makes me think people mistake you for a warrior department student a lot."
"Well, with this build? Can't blame them."
I chuckled. I remembered that shock clearly. When I first met Berald during supplementary lessons, I genuinely thought he was an upperclassman warrior. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was a year below me—and in the magic department.
"There's no rule saying magic users can't throw a punch."
"Fair point." He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Alright then. If it's just a light tryout…"
"Not quite." I stepped back and motioned. "We'll start with a test."
"A test?"
"I need to know your current level before I teach you anything."
He didn't argue. Just nodded and lowered his stance.
Short breaths. Knees bent. Fists raised at head level.
Despite never receiving formal training, he took up a textbook stance. Natural instincts.
'As expected... he's got a fighter's bones.'
I stood still, arms loose at my sides, back relaxed, like I'd just woken up from a nap. I didn't even raise my guard.
Berald squinted. "Heh. It seems like you've gained some profound enlightenment since I last saw you."
He was annoyed. I could see it in the way his grip tightened.
"But let me tell you one thing, brother." He raised his left arm.
The Stigma on his chest shimmered with light as mana flowed into his limbs.
"I may not know much about magic," he said, "but I'm pretty confident in my fists."
Boom!
With a heavy thud, he surged forward like a damn freight train.
Fist flying at my face, cloaked in mana and force. The wind howled in his wake.
It was a beautiful punch—accurate, sharp, with explosive power. A hit that could knock out most cadets if it landed clean.
"...Well, that's good."
I moved.
Quick. Clean.
Like a hawk grabbing prey mid-dive, I reached out.
My hand clamped around his wrist.
At the same time, I shifted my weight and kicked at his ankle.
And then—I pulled.
THUD!
Berald hit the ground with a grunt, stunned.
He blinked up at me, dazed.
I smiled, just a little. "Lesson one: don't telegraph your punch when your opponent hasn't even taken a stance."
He stared at me, then let out a breathless laugh. "Damn… you're serious about this, huh?"
"I'm always serious when it comes to my friends."
And this time, it's my turn to guide you.