I Became the Youngest Disciple of the Martial God

Without a doubt, the person I had been most afraid of in my previous life was my father, the Lord of Blood and Iron.

Of course, I had not held even a few conversations with the man. No, even the number of times I’d seen him could be counted on one hand.

Though I possessed the Bednicker family name and had lived off the wealth of the house, the influence of the Lord of Blood and Iron had still been an invisible crushing force that restricted me.

However, the fear I held toward the Lord of Blood and Iron was an uncertain thing—that fear had never been proven correct.

In contrast, the fear I felt at Arzan standing before me was very certain.

In my previous life, just seeing her face had been enough to make me tremble in fear, so I’d tried to evade her as much as possible.

Of course, there was more to my fear of her than just the violence I’d endured.

She’s still the same as I remember.

Her eyes were especially cold. When she’d been beating me up like a machine, she’d had the same emotionless expression she was wearing right now.