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Chapter – 19
That afternoon.
“Ugh…”
Carlyle woke up groaning in pain.
Shiver…
Every muscle in his body was trembling like an aspen leaf, screaming in protest.
His back, arms, legs, shoulders, and waist — not a single part of his body didn’t hurt.
‘Well, it’s great and all… but I can’t control it.’
Carlyle clicked his tongue at the effect of Silent One’s Devotion.
He hadn’t even wanted to lift a finger, and yet ended up training until he literally collapsed.
Ding!
[Notice: Your Swordsmanship level has increased to 3.]
[Notice: Due to the effect of , proficiency with all weapon types has been inherited at level 3.]
When he checked his status window, he was even more shocked.
His swordsmanship had gone from level 1 to level 3 — and that proficiency had carried over to every other weapon type.
In other words, whether he picked up a sword or a spear, he could now wield it with the skill of level 3 proficiency.
It turned out that Master of Weapons increased all weapon proficiencies just by training with one.
‘Truly worthy of its name.’
Carlyle was marveling inwardly when—
“Young master, how are you feeling?”
Evangeline approached and handed him a cup of warm water.
Recently, she had been learning from Maranello — the basics of what it meant to be a maid.
Of course, it wasn’t just household duties she was learning.
Evangeline was an exceptionally rare individual, so the Sigmund family was giving her full support.
Grand Duke Guntram had hired excellent tutors to educate her, ensured her siblings also received schooling, and paid her a salary more than triple that of most knights.
Her title might be “maid,” but in truth, she was treated no differently from a noble.
In fact, it was only a matter of time before she became one.
If she continued to grow well, she would either be allowed to marry into the Sigmund family or even be granted a noble title of her own.
“It hurts… a lot.”
“Here, young master. A recovery potion.”
Carlyle grabbed the potion Evangeline handed him and gulped it down.
Fwoosh!
A refreshing coolness spread from his mouth, and the aching in his muscles eased a little.
“How’s your spirit magic study going?”
“I’m working hard, young master.”
“Good. Keep at it — you’ve got talent.”
“Yes.”
Evangeline answered with a soft smile.
Whenever Carlyle spoke to her with that quiet confidence, she couldn’t help feeling happy.
No one else had ever recognized her talent before — let alone encouraged her.
And while he could be a little blunt, he wasn’t nearly as much of a scoundrel as the rumors had said.
Despite his past filled with wild behavior and cruelty, the current Carlyle showed none of that.
Well… maybe she was still slightly uneasy.
“You’re awake, young master,”
Maranello entered the room with a bright smile.
“What’s with that face? Why’re you grinning like that?”
“Because I have good news, of course!”
“…?”
“Please wash up first. I’ll prepare your tea, young master.”
Carlyle frowned at Maranello’s unusually cheerful demeanor, but soon shrugged it off and headed for the bath.
After all, collapsing last night had left him feeling grimy and uncomfortable.
After washing up, drinking some tea to clear his head, and having a very late breakfast—
“‘Requiem Blade,’ huh…”
Carlyle took some time to reflect on his new ability.
“So… it lets me inherit the power left behind by the dead?
If I can find lingering thoughts of the departed, does that mean I can have multiple abilities?”
Now that he had experienced it once, he truly understood just how extraordinary Requiem Blade was.
To inherit the results of someone’s entire life’s work — without any cost whatsoever…
Of course, he’d still need to find objects or places imbued with the souls of the dead.
“Hm?”
He suddenly realized that the necklace around his neck was radiating a strong presence.
He hadn’t noticed it before absorbing that unknown knight’s lingering will.
“This is…”
A necklace with a purple amethyst set in the center —
his mother, Adelia von Sigmund’s keepsake.
[Notice: Unable to read lingering thoughts.]
Despite feeling a powerful soul within it, a message appeared saying he couldn’t read it.
“Why not? Is my level too low?”
Apparently, discovering lingering thoughts wasn’t enough — there were special conditions to access them.
“I’ll find out eventually.”
With that thought, Carlyle stood up.
“Young master, where are you going? Training again?”
Maranello asked, smiling brightly — his eyes full of hopeful anticipation.
“We trained enough yesterday. What more do you want? My whole body still hurts.”
Carlyle’s curt reply didn’t deter Maranello, who said slyly,
“Ah, but young master, the best cure for muscle pain is movement!
You shouldn’t push yourself like yesterday, but a light bit of train—”
“No.”
“Still, even a little—”
“No.”
“Young master…”
When Maranello’s face turned half-disappointed, half-sulky, Carlyle grimaced.
‘So that’s why he was being so nice earlier. He’s dying to make me train again.’
But Carlyle wasn’t going to fall for it.
“That look won’t work. I’m taking the day off.”
“Sigh… Then, where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“I’ll accompany you, young master.”
“No need.”
Carlyle waved a hand dismissively.
“I’ll go alone today.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re not my babysitter. I’m not a kid.”
“But still—”
“If you follow me… you know what’ll happen.”
Carlyle’s expression turned flat and emotionless — the kind of look that silently said:
Try following me, and the old ‘delinquent Carlyle’ might make a comeback.
“…Understood.”
Maranello finally backed off, unable to shake off the unease that Carlyle might actually cause trouble if provoked.
“See you later.”
Carlyle put on his coat and left the room.
“Lingering thoughts… lingering thoughts…”
The reason he wanted to walk alone was simple — to search for lingering souls.
Those spirits, left behind in certain places or objects, could only be found by wandering around.
Carlyle wandered aimlessly through the streets.
“C-Carlyle, the young master!”
“Damn it!”
“Don’t make eye contact!”
The townsfolk scattered like frightened birds at the mere sight of him.
From experience, everyone in the territory knew — nothing good ever came from crossing paths with the infamous delinquent of House Sigmund.
‘Perfect.’
Carlyle found their reactions quite convenient.
He preferred being left alone. Crowds were nothing but a nuisance.
So, with the streets clearing around him, he could explore to his heart’s content.
‘Nothing yet.’
But finding lingering souls wasn’t easy.
It was like combing through a game map pixel by pixel — tedious and time-consuming in real life.
And truthfully, it wasn’t something that should be common anyway.
‘Yeah, makes sense. There can’t be that many cases.’
A lingering soul only appeared when someone had achieved something great in life —
or had left behind an incredibly strong obsession.
Such people weren’t exactly common.
‘Still… no harm in looking around.’
As he continued wandering—
“Hehe! Carlyle!”
“Oh? Fancy seeing you here.”
In a dead-end alley, two familiar figures appeared — Hector and Gunter, the brothers.
As the saying went, enemies always met on narrow bridges.
Of all times, he had to run into them when Maranello wasn’t with him.
‘This isn’t a coincidence.’
Carlyle’s lips curled into a cold smile.
There was no reason those two would be lurking in a shabby alley like this.
He was certain they had followed him.
“Why’re you alone, huh~? Where’s old man Maranello~?”
“Yeah, where’d he go~?”
The brothers sneered, stepping closer.
“What’ll you do now~? No old man to save you~?”
“And not even an ant around to see this, huh~? Hehe!”
This was an isolated backstreet —
even in broad daylight, almost no one came this way.
“You’re right. Not even an ant.”
Carlyle smiled faintly.
‘Yeah, these two need a good beating.
They’ll only be a headache later.’
If there were real troublemakers in the Sigmund family, it was Hector and Gunter.
They might just seem like mischievous brats now, but ten years later — when the game’s story began — it was a different story.
In the future Carlyle knew, the brothers would become the family’s worst scourge.
They constantly hindered Frey’s progress, acted out of arrogance and stupidity, and caused endless problems.
And worst of all—
‘They’re the first traitors in House Sigmund’s history.’
Hector and Gunter would eventually abandon the family at its lowest point, tarnishing its honor.
They wouldn’t outright side with the enemy —
but when things got bad, they’d run away, forsaking the family name.
‘If I leave them alone, they’ll just cause trouble later.
Better to crush that weed now — for me, and for Frey.’
“Why aren’t you running~?”
“Oh? Got some guts now, Carlyle?”
The brothers sneered, stepping within arm’s reach.
“Let’s have a nice little chat, shall we?”
Hector reached out to grab Carlyle’s shoulder—
BANG!
Carlyle’s fist slammed straight into Hector’s solar plexus.
“—!”
Hector froze in place like he’d been electrocuted.
Then he convulsed violently and fell forward, vomiting up his guts.
“Blaaaaargh!”
Splatter. He collapsed face-first into his own vomit.
“Huff, huff, huff, huff—!”
The hit had been so brutal that Hector couldn’t even breathe properly.
It was the same Piercing Heart technique he’d inherited from that unknown knight — executed barehanded.
The destructive power was so overwhelming that one strike completely incapacitated Hector.
“W-What the hell?!”
Panicking, Gunter tried to check on his brother, but Carlyle didn’t let him.
CRACK!
Carlyle’s kick struck Gunter square in the face.
WHAM!
“Argh!”
Gunter reeled backward, blood gushing from his nose.
“Yeah,” Carlyle said coldly, stepping toward the two trembling brothers,
“Let’s have that little chat.”
