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Chapter – 16
“W-What the…”
Maranello couldn’t even finish his sentence, stunned by the monstrous strength Carlyle had just shown.
“M-My lord? What on earth was that strength…?”
“I can’t control it,” Carlyle answered awkwardly.
“Looks like I’ll need some practice.”
“What in the world happened to you, sir?”
“What do you mean?”
“How could you suddenly become that strong…?”
“Late-night snack?”
“Pardon?”
“I ate something good last night. Guess it made me stronger.”
“‘Something good’? You mean… some kind of elixir?”
“Yeah. Elixir.”
“What kind of elixir… No, wait, where would you even get one—”
“Enough.”
Carlyle frowned, clearly annoyed.
“Instead of asking questions, shouldn’t you be doing your job?”
“My job…?”
“It’s a mess.”
Carlyle pointed at the shattered teacups and the broken table.
“You expect me to clean this up?”
“…Hah.”
Maranello let out a half-exasperated laugh. Cleaning was indeed the butler’s duty—but still…
There’s something off about the young master.
He was now certain Carlyle was hiding something.
Hadn’t he already been suspecting that the young master’s “delinquent act” might be a façade?
A man who couldn’t even pull a single weed just crushed a teacup and shattered a table with his fingers. What kind of elixir could do that…?
As Maranello’s eyes narrowed—
“What are you staring at?”
“Sir?”
“I can tell what you’re thinking. Clean first, then think.”
“…Understood.”
Reluctantly, Maranello began sweeping up the broken porcelain and bagging the shards.
He called for a few attendants to haul away the ruined table as well.
“All done, my lord.”
“Good. Keep holding that.”
“My lord?”
“The broom and dustpan. I’ll probably break more things.”
“…Sorry?”
“Told you—I’m practicing my control.”
And Carlyle meant it.
Starting with snapping the handle off another teacup, he began breaking everything he laid hands on.
Toothbrushes snapped, forks bent, plates cracked, shirts tore apart.
Each time Carlyle destroyed something, Maranello sighed, cleaned it up, and replaced it with something new.
I think I’m getting the hang of it.
With every object he broke, Carlyle’s control improved little by little.
At first, he couldn’t restrain his power at all—but as time passed, he began to feel the balance returning.
“Maranello.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“I’ll probably keep this up for a while. Bear with me until I’ve got it under control.”
“Of course, sir. But if I may ask—”
“No questions.”
“….”
Maranello realized something at that moment—asking Carlyle anything was pointless. He wouldn’t get an answer anyway.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell Father.”
“That’s…”
“You want to keep your job, right?”
“….”
Carlyle’s sly grin said it all.
“Why hide this from His Grace?”
“It’d be annoying.”
“….”
“Let’s just say it’s our little secret.”
Maranello had nothing left to say.
He had served noble houses his whole life, and every heir he’d seen had lived to glorify their family name.
That was simply how nobles were raised—it was instinct.
Especially in House Sigmund, where even illegitimate sons could inherit the title if they had the talent, competition was fierce.
But this young master… was hiding his power just because it was “annoying”?
“For now, help me with training—especially sword practice.”
“With pleasure.”
Maranello smiled faintly.
He still didn’t know what was going on, but if Carlyle wanted to train instead of wasting his days in debauchery, that was already an improvement.
“Oh, and let’s do it at dawn.”
“Heh. You don’t even want people seeing you train?”
“Exactly.”
“Understood. I’ll find a quiet place.”
“Good.”
Carlyle smiled in satisfaction.
Meanwhile, rumors were spreading throughout the Sigmund estate—rumors that Carlyle had fallen back into his old ways, terrorizing servants and smashing things.
They said he’d beaten a knight so badly he’d broken his ribs, and that he destroyed furniture daily, driving Maranello mad.
Clang!
Thud!
Crash!
It was true that loud crashing sounds echoed from his room almost every day, and servants were constantly seen cleaning up the wreckage.
From an outsider’s point of view, it looked exactly like the young master had gone on another destructive rampage.
Eventually, the news reached Grand Duke Guntram himself, who promptly summoned his son.
“You called for me, Father?”
“Sit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve started again, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you broke Knight Karlson’s ribs.”
“That did happen.”
“And that you’ve been smashing furniture every day, throwing tantrums?”
“I did break some things, yes.”
“Are you proud of that now…?”
Before the Duke’s rising anger could burst, Carlyle spoke calmly—
“Karlson deserved it, though.”
“What?”
“He was insulting me. I overheard it while I was out walking. So I disciplined him for defaming a noble.”
“…Is that true?”
“You didn’t know?”
“….”
Guntram was momentarily speechless.
He’d assumed it was another case of Carlyle lashing out for no reason. But this… was different.
“Then what about all the broken furniture? They say your quarters are a disaster.”
“I’ve been… a little tense lately.”
“And that justifies destroying everything?”
“Has anyone been hurt?”
“…Well, no.”
Indeed, though plenty of noise had come from Carlyle’s room, no one had actually been injured.
“Think of it as stress relief.”
“Is that what you—”
“Would you rather I went out drinking and harassing townsfolk again?”
“…!”
“That seems worse to me.”
Guntram grimaced, his temples throbbing.
The thought of Carlyle rampaging around the city again made his head ache just imagining it.
Maybe he’s right… At least he’s not hurting anyone this way.
“Fine. If that’s how you vent stress, so be it. But you’ll not harm anyone—am I clear?”
“Yes, sir. Don’t worry. This’ll probably pass in a few days.”
“….”
Guntram was left speechless again. His son—reassuring him? That was new.
“Anything else, Father?”
“Why did you stop sword training? I heard you quit after the first day.”
“I didn’t quit. I’m training separately.”
“Separately?”
“I practice at dawn. If you don’t believe me, ask Maranello.”
“…Very well.”
Guntram nodded slowly.
I suppose he doesn’t want to show weakness in public.
At least his son was training—that alone was progress.
“Alright. I’ll leave you to it. Do as you see fit.”
“Yes, Father.”
Carlyle bowed and left the room.
Late at night.
As the hour of his secret training approached, Carlyle retrieved the Transcendence Stone he’d found in the forgotten treasury.
Let there be something—anything.
He hoped his in-game counterpart—Carlyle von Sigmund—possessed at least one worthwhile talent.
If not, using the rare Transcendence Stone would be a complete waste.
Please… anything.
He channeled mana into the stone.
Fwoooosh—
The gem glowed gold, warmth spreading through his palm.
[Notice: The Transcendence Stone is scanning the user for latent talents.]
[Scanning…]
Then, a chime—
[Notice: Latent talents detected!]
The results appeared before him.
[Talent Unlocked: Master of Arms]
[Talent Unlocked: Requiem Blade]
“Master of Arms? Requiem Blade?”
Even Carlyle, who had played Overlord countless times, had never heard of those before.
[Master of Arms]
A prodigious talent for mastering every type of weapon.
Whichever weapon you wield, you can reach the ultimate realm.
Effect: +150% Weapon Proficiency
“What… the hell.”
Carlyle was genuinely stunned—his voice trembled in disbelief.
“Did that say one hundred fifty percent?”
He’d never seen a talent like this.
Even [Great Sword master] or [Sword Demon] only gave 150% and 90% boosts respectively.
The legendary [Sword Saint] granted 200%—but only for swords.
Meaning… Carlyle von Sigmund could achieve ultimate mastery with any weapon he touched.
“To think… he had a gift like this—and still wasted his life?”
It was almost infuriating.
With such potential, the position of House Sigmund’s next lord would’ve been guaranteed.
He could’ve stood among the strongest in the world—yet he’d squandered it all.
Then what about this other one… Requiem Blade?
Carlyle turned his attention to the second talent.
[Requiem Blade] was—
