Crack!
“Argh! What the hell is going on?”
Xian woke with a violent jolt as pain burned across his body. He shot upright and searched for whoever was responsible, barely managing to swallow the curse rising from his throat.
The head butler stood beside the bed with a horsewhip in one hand.
For a moment, Xian could only stare. Then he remembered that he was no longer in his old room on Earth. He was living in another world, inside the body of a man he did not recognize, and serving a household where mistakes could cost him his life.
He had fallen asleep almost immediately after staring at himself in the mirror the previous night, perhaps because of the mental exhaustion of experiencing death twice in succession.
“This will continue until you learn to wake on time,” the head butler said, pulling Xian away from his recollection.
‘Wasn’t this supposed to involve a bucket of cold water? Why the hell is he using a whip?’
Xian kept the complaint to himself. The old man remained beside the bed, as still and expressionless as a statue, silently waiting for him to get ready.
***
As Xian had expected, his first day of training began with an assessment to determine which areas he excelled in. The concept resembled the game’s character-development system, but the reality was far less convenient.
He stood inside a spacious chamber filled with unfamiliar equipment and several facilities whose purposes he could not immediately guess.
In the game, the protagonist merely declared that it was time to train. The player selected an attribute, clicked the appropriate option, and watched as the character’s statistics increased.
There was no convenient selection screen here.
If Xian wanted to improve this body, he would have to endure the training himself.
The head butler subjected him to one test after another. First, blood was drawn from his arm. Then he was forced to run laps around the estate until his legs could barely support him.
Next, Moris ordered him to lift increasingly heavy stacks of steel plates. Xian managed several attempts before the weight finally forced his wrist into an unnatural angle.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber.
“Argh!”
Moris merely shook his head whenever Xian screamed, treating his reactions as though they had been caused by ‘the slightest inconvenience of little pain.’
Several maids had been stationed nearby to treat any injuries caused by the assessment. They healed the scrapes from his fall and the fracture in his wrist before Moris ordered him to continue.
Their magic manifested as small spheres of green light that gathered around the damaged parts of his body before sinking into his flesh. Despite the pain, Xian found the sight strangely fascinating. Healing effects that had once been little more than game animations were now closing his wounds before his eyes.
Afterward came what Moris described simply as another ‘test.’
He personally held Xian underwater to measure how long his lungs could endure without air.
Every part of the assessment served the same purpose: determining his current capabilities and uncovering the limits of his potential.
Xian wondered why a servant needed to undergo such extreme testing. Then he remembered where he was.
This was the Montagne household, a place notorious for producing elite retainers rather than ordinary servants.
“Gah!”
Xian released a rough gasp when Moris finally pulled him from the water. The sound that emerged from his throat was deep enough to resemble a thug coughing inside a tavern.
The head butler examined the notes in his book.
“Excellent strength, stamina and flexibility,” Moris muttered. “Your other physical qualities are within ordinary limits.”
He closed the book and turned toward another section of the chamber.
“Next, we will measure your magical potential.”
'Here it comes!'
Xian hated physical pain and exertion. His body on Earth had been a wreck, and although his current body already felt several times stronger, that did nothing to make exhaustion more enjoyable.
Given the choice, he would rather pursue Magic than follow a physically focused path. Burying himself in magical research and shutting himself inside a laboratory sounded far more appealing than spending every day running, lifting weights, and being struck with a horsewhip.
'Please give me some potential. Please, please, please.'
He silently begged the entities, gods, or whatever else had sent him into this world.
Moris led him to a small pillar standing in another section of the chamber. A transparent crystal had been embedded at its center, while ten concentric rings were carved into the stone beneath it.
The pillar measured Magic Potential, an innate aptitude normally ranked on a scale from one to twelve. Ordinary instruments displayed only the first ten values, while exceptional results required a more specialized assessment.
That much Xian remembered from the game.
To a player, Magic Potential had only been another value influencing a character’s prospects in magical combat. Magic appeared through spells, while physical techniques were represented as skills. The systems behind either of them had never required much explanation beyond menus, statistics, and selectable abilities.
Once someone touched the crystal, the rings illuminated according to their measured Magic Potential.
Xian approached the pillar and placed his hand against it. The cold surface pressed against his broad palm and rough fingers.
As he waited for a reaction, an unpleasant realization surfaced.
He was not inside the protagonist’s body. That meant he had replaced someone else whose role in the story remained completely unknown. Xian knew nearly every named character and memorable extra in the game, yet he could not recall anyone who resembled the red-haired man he had seen in the mirror.
'I have a bad feeling about this.'
His earlier assessment had already revealed that the body leaned heavily toward physical ability. Even then, Xian could tell that he had not used its strength properly. His movements were still awkward because his mind had yet to adjust to its size, reach, and capabilities.
The crystal began to glow with a dull gray light.
“Null-aligned,” Moris said as he recorded the result in his handbook.
Xian recognized Null as the most common Alignment in the game. It possessed no elemental specialization or natural advantage, usually leaving characters reliant on general-purpose spells.
The first line beneath the crystal illuminated.
Then the second.
A third followed, and finally, a fourth.
The remaining six stayed dark.
“Magic Potential of four,” Moris muttered. His tired expression somehow managed to convey disappointment. “Low for a personal retainer.”
'Damn. Even my magical prospects aren’t to my taste...'
A Magic Potential of four placed Xian near the lower end of average. It did not prevent him from learning spells, but compared with naturally gifted characters, his magical growth would be slower and far less impressive.
Adrian, by comparison, possessed a Magic Potential of nine while retaining respectable physical capabilities.
The difference was absurd.
In the game, Adrian could develop powerful spells without sacrificing his ability to learn physical skills. Xian, meanwhile, had inherited a body clearly built for the latter while receiving magical aptitude that barely reached the lower end of average.
Xian felt as though his Magic Potential belonged to a toddler standing beside a giant.
As far as he remembered, Adrian’s only genuinely poor statistic was Luck. Even that began at five, which was considered the highest value an ordinary commoner could naturally possess and something many nobles were born with.
'How unfair is that bastard’s character build?'
The possibility that Adrian still existed somewhere in this world returned to Xian’s mind.
He was now Carmillia’s butler, while Adrian was destined to become the protagonist whose routes frequently placed him against her.
If they eventually became enemies, Xian had no idea how someone with a Magic Potential of four was supposed to compete with that monster.
Over the following days, Xian was driven through his training in something resembling a state of madness. He had originally planned to create a balanced training routine that would improve all his statistics at once, but it soon became clear that planning was unnecessary.
Moris had already prepared more than enough suffering for him.
“There is a standard expected of every servant in the Montagne household.”
For the past several days, the old butler had remained at Xian’s side like a tireless demon. Running, lifting, posture drills, and repeated lashes of the horsewhip filled his mornings. There were no heroines, romantic encounters, or pleasant interactions with any of the beautiful characters he remembered from the game.
There was only Moris.
“Even an ordinary servant must be capable of buying time should disaster befall the young miss or another member of the family.”
‘You won’t even try to hide that I’m being trained as a disposable shield?’
Moris personally supervised every exercise. Xian was not even permitted to grimace openly, since, according to him, a servant of Montagne was expected to maintain dignity regardless of pain or exhaustion.
“Argh!”
With one final shout, Xian forced the stack of steel plates upward beneath Moris’s watchful gaze. His arms shook violently, and every muscle in his body felt ready to tear.
“Repeat these exercises without fail every morning,” Moris said. “Only after meeting the household’s physical standard will you be permitted to begin combat training.”
Xian lowered the weights with a strained gasp.
“In the afternoon, you will study etiquette and basic service. That includes preparing and serving tea, arranging tea sets, escorting the young lady, maintaining proper posture, and selecting the appropriate tea for each occasion and visitor.”
‘Why is so much of it about tea?’
The physical training left Xian aching from head to toe, while the afternoon lessons replaced the pain with headaches. Every gesture had a correct angle, every greeting depended on rank and circumstance, and even placing a cup before someone required more thought than he believed any cup deserved.
By the end of the week, his life had become a relentless cycle of exercise, service lessons, memorization, and sleep. Miraculously, he had not died from exhaustion a second time.
Unfortunately, surviving the training did not mean he was ready for what followed.
“Has the ‘special’ butler finished his preparation?”
Carmillia stood before Moris with her arms folded, impatience visible in her narrowed eyes.
Only one week had passed, yet Xian already felt as though he had endured months beneath Moris’s supervision.
The head butler regarded Carmillia briefly before giving a calm nod.
“He has completed the first stage of his preparation, Young Miss.”
He then turned toward Xian.
‘No. Please, not yet.’
“You will escort the young miss today,” Moris said. “You have not yet received sufficient training to act as her guard, but the swordmaidens will provide more than adequate protection.”
‘Guard? What does guarding her have to do with being a butler?’
Moris continued explaining his responsibilities, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. Xian was too exhausted and dizzy to retain the details.
Not long afterward, they gathered outside the estate. Xian took his place beside the coachman on the driver’s bench, while Carmillia entered the carriage with one swordmaiden seated on either side of her.
Once everyone was in position, they departed for the academy city. She paid no attention to either Xian or the coachman, which was hardly surprising. Aside from ordering his training, she had barely acknowledged him since their first meeting.
“How are ye finding the household, young’un?” the coachman asked.
The man had a stalk of grass between his lips and wore an easy smile as he guided the horses along the road.
“It sucks,” Xian replied. Fatigue had stripped away whatever caution he normally possessed.
“Bahaha! Careful. The young miss might hear you.”
‘So what? I can regress.’
The thought came easily, though the lingering sensation around his neck made him unwilling to test that protection again.
His regression was a secret he had no intention of sharing with anyone. If word of it ever spread, the hidden powers of this world would come after him. They would tear through anything in their path for the chance to study his body, his mind, or even his soul.
“Saw the old man whipping you around the courtyard,” the coachman continued. “Moris always been that fond of you?”
“Not really.”
“And where’d you serve before coming here?”
“Nowhere.”
The coachman glanced sideways at him. “No experience?”
“None.”
“Someone recommend you, then?”
Xian frowned faintly. “Not that I know of.”
The coachman gave a quiet hum before returning his attention to the road. He seemed like the sort of man who filled every journey with idle conversation, so Xian did not think much of the questions. He listened only halfheartedly while the man continued talking about the estate, Moris’s training, and the difficulties of serving nobles.
Their destination was the academy city, where Carmillia apparently intended to inspect the surrounding districts before the beginning of the term. Aside from Xian, her escort consisted only of the coachman and two swordmaidens.
‘Those two are already more than enough.’
Xian shuddered and touched his neck. The longsword user’s attack had been so fast and clean that he had felt almost nothing before his head came free. It had probably not been her first execution under Carmillia’s orders.
He decided not to dwell on that thought.
The steady movement of the carriage gradually worsened his exhaustion. His eyelids grew heavy, and before long, he leaned back and closed them.
“We were surprised, you know.”
Xian had almost fallen asleep, but the coachman’s next words pulled him back to awareness.
“Never thought the ‘special butler’ would actually make it through the week.”
Xian opened his eyes and looked at him. The coachman still appeared relaxed, but something about his tone had changed.
By then, they had been travelling for nearly half an hour.
“Knowing that girl’s reputation, none of us expected her to allow some random servant to watch over her,” the coachman continued. “Not unless whoever sent him was someone she couldn’t easily refuse.”
“What are you getting at?”
Xian finally began paying attention to their surroundings. The road had grown unusually quiet. Only a few people remained along the streets, and those he could see kept their distance from the carriage.
“I’m saying we thought someone impressive had arrived.”
The coachman pulled gently on the reins. The horses slowed.
“But it turns out you’re far more ordinary than I expected.”
The carriage stopped at the center of the bridge. There were no stalls, guards, or townspeople nearby, only a broad stone road suspended above the river.
Before Xian could question him, the coachman seized the back of his head and dragged him down.
A blade tore through the front wall of the carriage, passing through the space where the coachman’s neck had been.
“Whoops!”
The coachman pulled Xian from the driver’s bench and twisted away with him.
The front half of the carriage split apart and launched into the air. Wood and metal scattered across the bridge as the severed section crashed against the road. With the walls around her destroyed, Carmillia was revealed standing inside the remains of the carriage. The longsword user stood before her with her weapon drawn, while the katana wielder moved to guard her other side.
“Heh.” The coachman glanced down at Xian. “You’re more like an innocent bystander than some ‘special butler.’”
A mocking smile spread across his face.
“They didn’t even hesitate when your life was in the way. How typical of them.”
He threw Xian across the road.
Xian struck the stone and rolled several times before coming to a stop. Pain shot through his shoulder, but his attention remained fixed on the ruined carriage.
Carmillia stood among the wreckage without a single blemish upon her. Her expression remained cold and authoritative, with both swordmaidens positioned between her and the coachman.
The woman on the left held a single-edged curved blade, the katana Xian had seen hanging from her waist. The other wielded a longsword with a broad guard.
Both lowered their stances, then vanished. They reappeared before the coachman at the same instant, their blades descending from opposite directions.
“Hmph.”
The coachman raised both hands.
His bare palms struck the flats of their weapons and forced the blades together. The collision shook the air hard enough to sweep Xian’s hair back, yet the man remained standing as though he had stopped nothing more threatening than two sticks.
He twisted his body while gripping the edges of both weapons, forcing the swordmaidens apart.
What followed became a blur to Xian.
The coachman pursued the katana wielder first. Dark light gathered along her blade as she unleashed a flurry of strikes that carved through the stone beneath them. The man avoided each cut by a narrow margin before kicking the blade aside and breaking her stance. She recovered immediately and drove the katana into his abdomen.
For an instant, Xian thought she had caught him, until the coachman smiled. He had allowed the blade to enter his body.
Before the swordmaiden could withdraw it, he seized her neck with both hands. His muscles strained as he pulled upward with a brutal grunt.
Her head tore free from her shoulders.
A length of spine hung beneath it as blood poured across the bridge.
Xian’s stomach twisted.
The longsword user attacked before the coachman could turn. Her blade severed one of his feet and continued upward, opening a deep wound across his back.
The coachman staggered, but he did not fall.
A red glow spread across his body like mist. Using his remaining foot, he lunged toward the second swordmaiden and drove both hands into her chest.
His fingers disappeared between her ribs.
With a roar, he pulled in opposite directions and tore her chest open.
Her body collapsed beside the first.
For several seconds, the bridge fell silent.
Then the headless corpse moved.
It rose from the blood-covered stones and wrapped both arms around the coachman. The second swordmaiden followed, her ruined chest hanging open as she seized him from behind.
“Shit!”
Blue light spread through both corpses.
The coachman struggled to free himself, but their arms tightened around him as the glow intensified.
A deafening explosion of Mana consumed the bridge.
'Manaburst Detonation!' Xian recognized the technique immediately. In the game, it was a last-resort skill used by disposable enemies, fanatics, and characters driven beyond reason. Even after death, the body would move on its own, seize the nearest target, and release all the Mana remaining inside it at once.
Techniques of that kind were forbidden within the game’s lore.
Knowing its description had not prepared him to watch two mutilated corpses embrace their killer before exploding.
Xian stared at the ruined bridge in disbelief. Nothing like this was supposed to happen an entire month before the academy term began. This period had only existed as a tutorial, a quiet stretch where players selected training options and developed the protagonist’s preferred statistics.
There should not have been an assassination attempt.
He swallowed.
Only one explanation came to mind.
'A death event for Carmillia Montagne!'
Some hidden sequence had begun before the academy even opened, when the player character would normally be at his weakest.
The explosion had not yet faded when four rings of magic appeared above the bridge.
Xian looked toward Carmillia. She stood among the wreckage with one hand extended, having prepared a spell while her swordmaidens fought. The four rings rotated around a core of condensed darkness, forming a structure far more intricate than the spell effects he remembered from the game.
The darkness collapsed into a narrow beam.
Light disappeared wherever it passed. The spell struck the center of the explosion and tore through the stone beneath it, leaving a deep, blackened scar across the bridge.
Whatever remained of the coachman had surely been destroyed.
“Tsk.”
A black heart hovered above Carmillia’s head, with the number 8 displayed inside it.
“Hey, you. The useless butler.”
She beckoned to Xian, but he remained frozen, unable to draw his attention away from the blood, scattered remains, and fractured stone surrounding them.
Carmillia’s gaze settled upon him. For one dreadful moment, Xian thought she might decide that his failure to respond deserved the same punishment as his earlier mistakes.
“Unhitch the horses.” she ordered. “We will ride back to the manor.”
Xian looked toward her as though expecting some explanation for what had just happened.
Her cold, condescending expression did not change.
“I will count to three.”
Xian immediately sprang to his feet.
He might have possessed the ability to regress, but that did not make death easy to accept. The fear and helplessness of being beheaded had remained with him even after his body was restored. He could not experience death and simply treat it as though nothing had happened.
More importantly, he remained completely powerless before Carmillia. She was already ahead of the heroines and the protagonist at this stage of the game, and he had no intention of testing how many different ways she could kill him.
Xian had barely taken a step toward the horses when something whistled through the smoke.
A broken sword flew toward Carmillia.
A translucent barrier appeared around her just before impact, but the weapon struck with enough force to cover its surface in cracks. The barrier shattered before Xian could even understand what he was seeing.
A figure emerged from the smoke behind her.
It was the coachman.
One foot was gone. Most of his clothing had burned away, exposing torn muscle and bone beneath the charred remains. Red Aura clung to his body like mist as he forced himself forward with the last of his strength.
An Aura-coated hand pierced through Carmillia’s back and burst from her chest.
The coachman opened his mouth, but his ruined throat produced only wet, unintelligible sounds. Even so, Xian understood what he was hearing.
The man was laughing.
Not from madness or pain, but with the unmistakable happiness of someone who had finally accomplished what he came there to do.
With his other hand, the coachman seized Carmillia by the throat. His exposed eyes bulged from their sockets, blood running freely down the bare flesh surrounding them.
Carmillia struggled weakly in his grasp, but the hand protruding from her chest had already inflicted a fatal wound. The light in her deep-green eyes began to fade.
Then the coachman twisted her neck.
“W-what... What the hell?” Xian’s voice emerged as a strangled growl as he witnessed the absurdity unfolding before him.
Carmillia’s body went limp. The coachman withdrew his hand, allowing her to fall onto the blood-covered bridge with her neck bent at an unnatural angle.
For several seconds, he remained standing on one foot. Whatever strength still held his ruined body upright could only be described as an impossible final burst.
The coachman slowly turned toward Xian. His lidless eyes stared at him through the blood and ruined flesh, but he made no attempt to approach.
At last, his body gave out.
He collapsed beside Carmillia and did not move again.
Just like that, Xian was left alone among the corpses and wreckage.
This time, he had not been killed.
Yet the bridge began to distort around him. The stone beneath his feet, the river below, and the bodies scattered across the road stretched into indistinct shapes as the same force that had followed his previous deaths seized the world.
Xian’s momentary relief vanished.
'Why am I regressing?'
Carmillia’s lifeless body was the last thing he saw before everything disappeared, leaving him with a new and far more disturbing sense of dread.
Author's Note
YuzaiRearu
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