Chapter 72: Blunt Trauma
The sprawling training grounds of the Tyranny family were blanketed in heavy white snow as winter set in. The seasons turned once more. The heat of the sun melted the frost, bringing the gentle rains of spring. Those rains were soon swept away by the cool, howling winds of autumn. Time passed relentlessly. An entire year slipped by.
Throughout all those changing skies, James was forced to train. Throughout all those seasons, his massive instructor beat him down and forced him back up. But still, the boy had not leveled up a single time. James was firmly stuck at Level 7.
It was deeply concerning. Even ordinary commoners, if forced to endure a fraction of this grueling regimen, would have leveled up at least three times over the course of a year. But James remained frozen. Today, however, was not a training day.
Today, Alexander's best friend had come to visit the estate. Dean Hollow was a renowned noble, famous for his vital support in the war against the last Demon Lord. He was the one man who had always stood beside Alexander, remaining fiercely loyal even after James was born. Dean never looked down on his friend; instead, he only felt pity for the situation.
In the grand library, Dean stood dressed impeccably in high-quality black boots, tailored black trousers, and a crisp shirt and tie beneath a sleek black blazer. His blonde hair was neatly combed straight back. Only slightly younger than Alexander, Dean's sharp blue eyes were currently scanning the pages of an old book detailing theories on mana and the experience gained through killing monsters. Meanwhile, Alexander sat at his desk, reviewing a dense stack of documents concerning municipal problems within his city.
"Monsters," Dean read aloud.
"What?" Alexander asked, glancing up.
"Have you ever tried having him actually kill monsters?"
"It's too dangerous," Alexander replied immediately. "He's too young for that."
Dean smiled warmly. "Too dangerous? You are the Global Hero. It doesn't have to be an extremely powerful beast. If he just lands the final blow on a simple D-Rank, he should amass enough pure experience to level up significantly."
Alexander stood up from his heavy wooden chair, closing the municipal document with a thud. "I've already thought of that. But there are no monster zones nearby. If we capture a monster and drag it all the way back here, it will just die. It would be too far from its spawn point."
"Well, you're right about that," Dean conceded, closing his book with a soft snap, though the confident smile never left his face. He slid the tome back onto the shelf alongside hundreds of others. "But you could just take him there, you know."
"Take him to the monster zones? He is far too young. I know I want him to grow stronger, but if the public found out..."
"The people don't have to know about it," Dean said smoothly. "You can do it in absolute secret. Your wife will probably disagree, but she won't have to know about it either. You can just say you're taking him somewhere else on a trip." Dean shrugged casually.
Alexander paused, the gears turning in his head. *Well, something like that could actually work. If I just take him away secretly... even inside the monster zones, as long as I am standing right there, he will not be in any real danger.*
Meanwhile, out in the sprawling courtyard, James was playing with his little sister. Claire darted away from him, giggling wildly as they played a simple game of tag. James lunged, trying to tag her shoulder, but every time he swung his hand, she was already gone.
She was incredibly fast. Sometimes, she moved so quickly she became nothing but a blur to his eyes. He knew, of course, that she could outpace him so easily that he shouldn't even be able to get within a meter of her. She was obviously teasing him. She kept laughing brightly, occasionally slowing down just enough to allow him to tag her. James knew she only did it out of necessity to keep the game playable, but for some reason, they were still having fun. She tried her best not to make her pity too obvious.
Their game was interrupted when two older kids strolled into the courtyard. The boy, John, was the tallest of the children. He had striking blonde hair and bright blue eyes, inheriting the looks of his mother, Dean's wife. Beside him walked his twin sister, Crystal, who was slightly shorter but shared the same pale blonde hair.
The twins were thirteen years old. They frequently accompanied Dean to the estate, but they were never truly friends with James. They were bratty, arrogant, and cocky, always treating James like he was something beneath their boots.
James deeply disliked them, but their arrogance wasn't the sole reason he despised their visits. He hated it because every time they arrived, his sister changed. It was almost like she instantly switched sides. She would join in on their subtle mocking. She preferred playing with them because they could actually keep up with her speed and stats. He couldn't entirely blame her for wanting playmates on her own level, but it still filled him with a bitter mix of anger, frustration, and sadness.
Usually, Claire was supposed to hold back and slow herself down just to play with him. But with the twins, she didn't have to. Sometimes, James would just be forced to sit down on the grass and watch them play without him. And looking at them now, he knew he was about to do exactly that again.
"Crystal!" Claire cheered, immediately abandoning the game of tag and running toward her friend with a bright smile. "You're here!"
As the girls greeted each other, John locked his blue eyes onto James. "Hey," he said, a condescending grin spreading across his face. "Were you guys playing?"
"You should play with us!" Claire offered, turning back to the group.
"Really? What game were you playing?" John asked.
"We were playing tag," James muttered.
"Again?" John sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "We *always* play tag. Let's play another game."
"Another game?" James asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"You see... yesterday, I actually awakened a new skill," John boasted, raising his chin high and folding his arms with immense pride.
Claire's eyes widened with bright curiosity. "Really? What is it?" she asked, bouncing on her toes, anxious to hear.
"I can make things out of anything I touch," John declared.
"Huh?" Claire tilted her head. "I don't get it. Anything?"
"Yeah. Let me show you."
John looked around the courtyard and marched over to the nearest grand oak tree. He pressed his bare hand flat against the thick trunk. In his other hand, a small, brilliant white light bloomed into existence. The light suddenly elongated, glowing fiercely before popping out of existence. In its place materialized a sharp, perfectly formed wooden sword.
"Wow!" Claire gasped. "You just made a sword!" She ran excitedly toward John to inspect it.
James stood completely frozen in surprise. John's grin widened as he saw the younger boy rendered utterly speechless.
"I got a new skill too," a voice suddenly echoed from directly above James.
James gasped, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the grass as he looked up. Crystal was literally floating in the air above him. She drifted down effortlessly, her boots touching the ground softly right beside James.
"You can fly?" James breathed, his eyes wide with shock.
"Wow," Claire said, walking toward Crystal. "Well, not really. I can kinda just... float. I'm not really good at controlling where I want to go yet."
Suddenly, something slammed hard against James's head. "Ow!" he yelled, as a small wooden sword bounced off his skull and clattered onto the dirt. "That hurt!"
John laughed and shrugged. "Sorry. I thought you'd catch it." He was casually twirling another wooden sword in his hand before he threw it toward Crystal.
Crystal easily caught the hilt out of the air.
"What are you doing?" James asked, rubbing his head as he stood up.
"We're playing a different game. Let's play sword fighting," John declared.
"What? But that's dangerous."
"What do you mean, dangerous? You train all the time, right? Can't we have fun with swords too?"
James clenched his teeth. "What are you saying? Training is not fun at all. I freaking hate it."
"Well, if you hate it, you don't have to play then, right? You can give your sword to your little sister."
"We're just playing, but I do think it's a good idea to give Claire the sword," Crystal added smoothly. "You might accidentally get hurt because you won't be able to keep up."
"Yeah, Claire's way better anyway," John said with a smirk on his face.
"So I get to play!" Claire cheered, a bright smile on her face. She immediately bent down to pick up the fallen wooden sword.
"Fine," James muttered, the sting of humiliation burning in his chest. "I didn't want to play with you anyway."
He turned his back on them, walking away across the courtyard until he reached the stone stoop of the manor. He sat down heavily, pulling his knees to his chest, and watched them from afar.
Out on the grass, the mock battle began. At first, it was exactly what James expected, a chaotic, overwhelming display of the power he lacked. John, Crystal, and Claire dashed across the courtyard, their movements punctuated by sudden bursts of incredible speed. Wood clacked sharply against wood. John swung his created blade with a heavy, brute-force arc, while Crystal used her erratic floating to strike from awkward, unpredictable angles above. Claire was simply a blur, laughing as she darted in and out of their reach.
They were incredibly fast. Too fast for his Level 7 body to ever physically intercept.
But as James sat on the cold stone, resting his chin in his hands, his eyes began to adjust. The blinding speed that usually intimidated him started to break down into readable patterns.
*He's stepping wrong,* James realized, his brow furrowing as he watched John.
John charged forward, gripping his sword tightly, but all of his weight was leaning entirely on his front foot. When he swung, his elbow flared out completely, leaving his entire left flank wide open. In the training arena, James's instructor would have swept his legs instantly for making such a reckless, unbalanced lunge.
Then there was Crystal. She activated her skill, floating a few feet in the air to try and dive-bomb Claire from above. It looked flashy and impressive, but she had absolutely no leverage. Without her feet planted firmly on the ground, there was zero torque in her swing. If someone just tapped her descending blade sideways, her own momentum would cause her to spin entirely out of control in the air.
And his sister... Claire was ridiculously fast, darting past John and tapping his shoulder with her wooden sword before he could even blink. But her footwork was a disaster. She crossed her legs every time she pivoted. If she tripped, her speed would send her face-first into the dirt.
They were just kids flailing sticks. Their movements were entirely sluggish, undisciplined, and amateurish.
James watched in quiet fascination. Every time John raised his sword, James's mind automatically calculated the exact angle needed to deflect it. Every time Claire rushed in, he saw the exact half-second window where a simple sidestep would expose her back. His body remembered the endless, agonizing hours of being beaten down and corrected by the massive instructor. He knew the precise mechanics of a real fight.
He couldn't beat them, of course. He knew that bitterly. Even if he swung his sword with perfect technique, John's raw stats would probably shatter the wood upon impact, and Claire's natural speed would easily bypass his physical reaction time. He didn't have the muscle, the agility, or the mana to execute the counters he was visualizing.
But as he tracked their every move with absolute, pinpoint accuracy, a strange spark of realization settled in his chest. They had the levels, but he had the experience.
"A bunch of amateurs," James muttered under his breath.
He hadn't meant to say it out loud. But the clacking of wood had paused for a brief second, and his voice carried surprisingly well across the quiet courtyard.
All three kids stopped and turned to look at him.
"What did you just say?" John asked, lowering his wooden sword. His condescending smirk was gone, replaced by an annoyed scowl.
James stiffened, realizing his mistake, but the humiliation from earlier fueled a sudden flare of defiance. "I said you're a bunch of amateurs. You're just swinging wildly. Your footwork is terrible."
John let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, really? The Level 7 thinks he knows how to fight. Why don't you come over here and show us, then?"
"Yeah, come show us," Crystal chimed in, floating back down to the grass.
James looked at the wooden sword lying near the stone stoop. He picked it up, his grip tightening around the hilt. "Fine. But only if you fight at my level. No extra speed or strength. Just pure skill."
John rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll humor you. I'll go super slow."
James stepped onto the grass. John didn't even bother getting into a stance; he just walked up and lazily swung the wooden sword downward. To James, the attack was painfully obvious. He didn't try to block it directly, he knew his arms would give out. Instead, he smoothly pivoted on his back foot, letting John's blade slice through empty air, and tapped the flat of his own sword sharply against John's exposed ribs.
John blinked, surprised. He frowned and swung again, a little faster this time.
James ducked under the wild horizontal arc, stepped inside John's guard, and struck the back of John's knee with the tip of his wooden blade. John's leg buckled slightly.
"Hey!" John snapped, his face flushing red. Embarrassed in front of the girls, he completely abandoned his promise.
He gripped the sword with both hands, his natural stats flaring. He swung and James saw it coming, perfectly reading the telegraph, and brought his sword up to deflect it at an angle. But the raw, physical force behind John's swing was too much. The moment the wooden weapons clashed, the impact violently threw James off balance. John stepped forward and shoved James hard in the chest.
James hit the dirt, the breath knocked out of his lungs.
"Skill doesn't mean anything when I can just crush you," John scoffed, standing over him.
"Let me try!" Claire suddenly piped up, running over. She held her wooden sword eagerly.
James pushed himself up, wiping the dirt from his cheek. He breathed heavily, raising his sword again. Claire was completely different from John. Because she constantly played tag with James, she was already incredibly used to dumbing down her speed to match his Level 7 body.
She rushed in, her movements slowed to a manageable pace. She swung at his shoulder.
Just as before, James's eyes tracked the movement perfectly. But this time, he also tracked her feet. He saw her legs cross slightly as she pushed off the grass, the exact amateur mistake he had noticed earlier.
Instead of blocking, James recalled the brutal lesson his massive instructor had drilled into him. He quickly sidestepped her downward strike, shifting his weight perfectly. Before Claire could correct her posture, James swept his foot hard against her ankle.
With her momentum completely unchecked, Claire tripped. She let out a yelp as she pitched forward and crashed face-first into the dirt.
For a second, there was silence. Then, John and Crystal burst out laughing.
"You got beat by the Level 7!" John pointed, howling with laughter.
Claire pushed herself up from the dirt. Her dress was stained, and her knees were scraped. She looked at John and Crystal laughing at her, and her face flushed a deep, burning crimson. The embarrassment instantly boiled over into pure, unchecked rage.
"Shut up!" Claire screamed.
She turned her furious gaze toward James. All the restraint she usually had around him completely vanished. She gripped her wooden sword, and her Level 44 stats erupted.
she vanished from James's sight.
His eyes couldn't track her. His body couldn't move.
Suddenly a loud thunderous sound echoed through the courtyard like a gunshot. The wooden sword slammed directly into the side of James's head with devastating, catastrophic force. The thick wooden blade instantly shattered upon impact, exploding into dozens of jagged splinters that rained down on the grass.
The sheer kinetic force of the strike lifted James's body entirely off the ground. He flew four feet into the air, spinning like a broken doll, before crashing violently into the hard earth.
A sickening puddle of dark red blood immediately began pooling beneath his head, staining the green grass. His skull was visibly indented, the bone cracked from the blunt force trauma. James lay on his back, his breathing reduced to wet, heavy, ragged gasps. His eyes were open but completely crossed, staring blankly at nothing as his brain violently misfired.
The courtyard fell into a dead, horrifying silence.
John's laughter died instantly. The shattered hilt of the wooden sword slipped from Claire's trembling hand, hitting the grass with a soft thud.
James let out one final, shallow gasp. His crossed eyes slowly rolled back, and his eyelids slid shut. He went perfectly still.
A piercing, terrified scream of pure horror ripped from Crystal's throat.