Four days had passed since Oden's Spartan training began.
The training grounds, which Abel had practically monopolized before, now had a new occupant—and one far more intense than expected.
Thud!
"Ouch!?"
"Your feet are still slow. I told you already, didn't I? Don't think about dodging first. Watch fully, then dodge."
"Yes! One more time, please."
"Good spirit. Then, let's see…"
"Ueek!?"
For four days straight now, without showing the slightest sign of stopping, Lyriette had thrown herself at Oden every single day.
Thanks to that, the once-pristine floor of the training grounds now bore cracks in various places, and the spot where Lyriette had already slammed her backside down some twenty times had been polished smooth.
"Haah! Hup!"
Lyriette swung her sword without a moment's rest.
After lunch, the afternoon hours were meant for self-directed training, and one might have expected her to slack off even briefly then—but she stood her ground silently until the sun went down.
She even took her meals right there in the training grounds.
At first, Cassdia, finding this an eyesore, had ordered the servants not to bring her food—but unfortunately, that order never reached me.
"Lunch today, is it? I'll take it."
"Eh!? Y-young master! That's the meal meant for the mistress...!"
"We all eat the same thing anyway. I'm hungry, so just say I took it first."
"I'm the one who'll get scolded for it!"
Whenever this happened, I'd teleport swiftly to the kitchen and bring back the finished dish.
It was absolutely not stealing.
"Niece, eat your meal first before continuing."
"Yes, Uncle."
Since Oden went back to the mansion to eat separately anyway, all I had to do was bring food for Lyriette.
Naturally, this meant mealtimes became just the two of us.
"Is it good?"
"It's delicious. But Uncle, don't you eat?"
"I told you. I eat while you're training."
"Right, you did say that."
Of course it was a lie, but pure-hearted Lyriette believed my words.
Skipping one meal wasn't going to cause any serious problems for my body anyway, so it didn't bother me.
If anything, watching Lyriette forget her manners and stuff herself full made even me feel full.
"In just four days, the clothes I gave you have already turned to rags."
"S-sorry. The training is just so intense, that..."
"I'm not scolding you. If anything, I'm pleased."
The training clothes that had been pure white when I first handed them over had already begun fraying in various spots after only four days.
But I didn't mind it at all.
Though Lyriette seemed to be quietly bothered by it herself.
"I'll buy you a few more of the same. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, there's nothing. Just having you by my side, Uncle, is more than enough."
"...Ngh."
"Uncle?"
Ah, I'm not usually one for tears, but they were about to come out.
What am I supposed to do with how endearing our niece is?
The whole world really ought to know about this precious existence—even just one more person would do.
For a moment, I keenly felt the preciousness of TV and the internet.
If I just took one photo and posted it, she'd be an SNS star by the next day.
"It's nothing. By the way, is there anything you're struggling with?"
"Um... actually, quite a bit. But I feel too sorry to ask Sword Saint about all of it."
I see, so that's how it was.
No wonder she sometimes looked like she hadn't fully burned through something, that lingering, unsatisfied look at the end of training.
She probably felt guilty for dragging Oden into her own business and troubling him.
*He wouldn't even care, though.*
Besides, knowing that old man's personality, if she asked him to teach her even one more thing, he'd probably light up with delight and teach her with burning enthusiasm.
But telling her that wouldn't mean much.
She was the type to read the room far too much—she'd surely think I was just lying to ease her guilt.
Giving Oden a hint to draw out Lyriette's true feelings might work too, but we hadn't built that much rapport with him yet, so it felt a bit premature.
No helping it, then.
For our niece's sake, I'd just have to push myself here.
"Then, if it were me instead of Lord Craig, could you speak more openly?"
"To you, Uncle? But you..."
"Right, I'm not a swordsman. I might even know less about swords than our niece here."
"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."
"No, it's fine. It's an undeniable fact."
I wasn't called the heretic of House Argent for nothing.
At least Lyriette was said to merely lack a bit of talent compared to Abel—
though even that was nothing but a fabrication by Cassdia and Abel.
I truly had no talent for swordsmanship whatsoever.
It wasn't just that I had no interest in it—I lacked even the capacity for it.
"But our niece seems to have forgotten one thing, hasn't she?"
"Forgotten something?"
"Yes. What is my profession?"
"A... mage, aren't you?"
"Exactly that."
"......?"
As if we were exchanging some kind of Zen riddle, Lyriette blinked her bright, clear eyes in confusion and tilted her head.
Seeing is believing, they say—showing her would be best.
Honestly, I'd never tried this before myself, so I couldn't guarantee it would work.
*I'll manage somehow.*
I don't mean to boast, but even so, I reached 7th Circle faster than even that monster of an old man—putting me among the genius tier.
As long as I didn't push too hard, I should be able to hold out somehow.
"Could you hand me the wooden sword for a moment?"
"This one?"
"Not that—the one Lord Craig left lying around when he went to eat."
"Ah, here."
I received the sword Oden had discarded on the floor before going off to eat, and focused my mind.
Originally, this was a trump-card spell I'd planned to use only after reaching at least the 8th Circle.
Somehow, I ended up using it here of all places.
Well, the usage requirement is 7th Circle, so it shouldn't be too much of a strain.
The problem was that the target this time happened to be none other than the Sword Saint himself, which weighed on my mind a little...
"I'm about to cast a spell now, so think of me as Lord Craig and ask your questions. Understood?"
"Huh?"
"Beginning."
Without resolving Lyriette's confusion, I quickly chanted the incantation.
"I, who reminisce upon thee."
Crackle!
"......!"
At once, my entire body screamed as though struck by high-voltage current.
Wow, insane.
This hurts like hell.
Even knowing it was that old man, I hadn't expected it to be this taxing.
"U-Uncle. Are you alright? Just now, something felt eerie..."
Sorry, I was trying to act tough, but I'm not exactly fine.
To begin with, this spell places a considerable burden even on most high-tier mages.
Still, I somehow managed to complete the casting.
The time limit was probably under an hour.
A bit short, but enough to satisfy what Lyriette wanted.
Now then, let's see...
Knock!
"Ouch!? U-Uncle?"
The moment I felt my consciousness dip slightly—
before I could even control it, my hand shot out on its own, curled into a fist, and delivered a knock right to Lyriette's head.
She looked bewildered, no doubt never expecting to be struck by my hand.
*Sorry about that!*
Please believe that wasn't my true intention.
"Ugh, you foolish girl. Why are you fretting your heart out over every little thing like that?"
"Eh, uh? Uncle's suddenly acting strange...?"
"Enough nonsense—hurry and take up your sword again. Which point was giving you trouble?"
"Ah, um, well..."
Lyriette seemed startled by my 180-degree personality shift at first, but then, as if belatedly recalling what I'd told her earlier, she gripped her wooden sword and began speaking quietly.
"When I turn here, like you showed me before, I feel a sort of creaking sensation, and then setting up the next stance..."
"That's usually a hip problem. A woman's pelvis is fundamentally different from a man's. This old body demonstrated it for you before, but you shouldn't copy it exactly as is. Try to use flexibility, not just strength."
"O-old body? Don't tell me, Uncle..."
She'd finally noticed.
That the me right now was Oden.
More precisely, my own consciousness remained intact within.
This was a spell called Phantom Resonance—
a spell that reads the memories imprinted on a specific object and completely copies that person's abilities and personality onto one's own body.
If Polymorph-type spells only mimic outward appearance,
this one, conversely, completely replicates the inner self while excluding the appearance.
However, being such an overpowered spell, it carries plenty of drawbacks.
It's a top-tier spell requiring at least 7th Circle to cast.
A mage of that caliber would have little need to cast this to imitate someone else in the first place.
Summoning an existence with abilities above one's own drastically shortens the duration.
But the greatest drawback of all is that it cannot be used on the dead.
This isn't necromancy, after all.
"What are you doing? There's not much time left, so hurry and do as you're told."
"Y-yes, sir!"
At my thunderous command mimicking Oden, Lyriette hastily gripped her wooden sword and corrected her stance.
"No, still clumsy! There must not be even a hair's breadth of hesitation in your movement! Again!"
"Hyut!"
"Oh, much better this time. Your talent really is showing—you learn fast."
"Heh, thank you, Uncle."
Even though she must have known it wasn't really me but Oden, the fact that she still directed her thanks to me was both amusing and adorable.
But perhaps it was because only the appearance was mine—
Lyriette carried herself far more comfortably than she did with Oden, peppering him with the questions she'd wanted to ask and fixing what she lacked.
"Too much strength in the hips this time! At that rate you won't even manage ten swings before you topple over!"
"Yes!"
"Thrusting matters, but mind the retraction! That's the moment a swordsman is most vulnerable!"
"Yeeess!"
And so, after about an hour of this fantastical collaborative lecture between Baal Argent and Oden Craig had ended—
"Heck, heck...!"
Lyriette collapsed limply, so drained that I worried the lunch she'd eaten earlier might come back up.
Just in case, I'd cast a spell on Lyriette before invoking Phantom Resonance, so she shouldn't suffer any real harm.
*The aftereffects aren't too severe, at least.*
I'd worried quite a bit about summoning that old man Oden, but thankfully, even after the spell wore off, I didn't feel much of a backlash.
Probably because I hadn't actually moved my body or swung a sword—hadn't engaged in direct combat.
If I had, I'd surely have been bedridden for a full day.
Honestly, even now my head felt slightly dizzy.
His knowledge had rushed in and then rushed back out in an instant.
"Well done. I was worried I pushed you too hard since the spell's duration was so short, but you kept up admirably."
"Yes. It felt like I was learning from you, Uncle, so I was even happier, and that's why I could do well."
"That made you happy?"
Shouldn't she be even happier learning directly from Oden?
Of course, just now it had only been my appearance—in truth, it was no different from being taught by Oden himself.
I didn't quite understand it, but well, if Lyriette was happy, that was that.
For the time being, I think continuing with this routine should work fine.
Have Oden handle the lessons, while I pick out just the confusing or lacking parts and give her a crash-course lecture for an hour like this.
Fwoosh.
I raised a light breeze to cool Lyriette down.
Looking pleased, Lyriette laughed a little, then peeked up at me with an endearingly raised gaze.
"Uncle. I worked hard, didn't I...? Could you please do that thing from before, just once more?"
"That thing?"
"T-the pat-pat."
Pat-pat—what an adorable word choice.
Of course there was no reason I couldn't.
"As much as you like. Tell me if there's anything else you want."
"Then... please call me by my name. Lately you've gone back to calling me niece."
"Lyriette. Will this do?"
"Heh, I'm happy."
I suppose, for her, being called by name had mostly happened for bad reasons in the past.
The servants would always call her "young lady," after all.
How bitter, really.
That a child like this could be made this happy just by being called by her ordinary name once, by having her head patted.
"...Hm?"
While I quietly stroked her head without a word, letting Lyriette rest a while—
I caught sight of something dashing past the training ground's window in a flash, and my brow furrowed.
That hair color just now...
"Uncle, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
...Well now. This might turn out rather unsightly.