005: Talent, Effort, or Something Else

In my previous life, if there was anything I could actually brag about, it was my touch-typing speed. That was pretty much it.

As for exercise? I only did it when forced to during PE, and the one time I actually signed up for a gym, I stopped showing up after a week. I just wasn't that guy.

But now...

"Good! Weiss! The most important thing when you're swinging a sword is not holding back!"

"I... know... that... ALREADY!" I screamed back, my voice cracking under the strain.

I had been stacking up training days at a rate that would have been physically impossible for the old me. Has it really been a year since I reincarnated as the villain Weiss? I wondered, though I barely had the brainpower to keep track.

"Haha! Weiss, your movements are fascinating! Truly fascinating!"

"T-Teacher Milk, please... would it kill you to show a little restraint!?"

Every time our swords collided, the shockwaves rattled my very marrow. While I was still diligently working on expanding my total mana capacity, Teacher Milk clearly had a massive soft spot for swordsmanship.

In the beginning, I’d held onto the naive hope that she’d go easy on me. I expected a gentle "put your hand here" or "step like this" kind of instruction.

Fat chance. During our very first lesson, I was out cold before I even realized the session had started.

Even though we used wooden swords, Teacher Milk didn't believe in "holding back." Broken bones were just part of the curriculum. If it weren't for Recovery Magic, the cost of healing potions alone would have bankrupted my entire estate.

I was currently parrying her strikes with the desperate, frantic energy of a man who didn't want to die. Apparently, my struggle for survival was "exceedingly delightful" to her.

"—That’s enough for today."

The next second, Teacher Milk vanished at a speed my eyes couldn't even begin to track.

A fraction of a heartbeat later, a wooden sword slammed into my face. My nose shattered, and I hit the dirt, blood spraying everywhere.

"Gugaa-agh—... huff... wheeze..."

"Make sure you have that fixed by tomorrow morning. And don't you dare neglect your form practice."

"Iggh... ah... y-yessir..." Or ma'am... or whatever...

This isn't just "strict" anymore! I screamed internally for the thousandth time. This is a human rights violation!

"Lord Weiss!"

Lilith rushed to my side, her face pale with worry, and immediately began soothing the mangled wreck of my nose with Heal Light.

To my utter shock, Lilith had been studying magic like a woman possessed just for my sake. Even more surprising was the terrifying speed at which she was mastering it. I was touched, really, but it also lit a fire under my ass—I couldn't let my own maid outpace me.

"Haa... that feels so warm..."

"I'm so glad..."

Lilith is an angel. Unlike Teacher Milk, who is clearly a demon in a very stylish coat.

---

Milk — Side Story

I have always believed one thing: people have limits.

Effort can never truly overcome innate talent. That was my mantra, the foundation of my world.

But since meeting Weiss, my common sense has been ground into dust.

The boy gets stronger by the day, as if he’s shedding his old skin and becoming a different person every time the sun rises. Is it talent? Is it effort? Neither label feels quite right.

I told him I wouldn't hold back, but in truth, I was pulling my punches at the start. Teaching is usually about making the student feel good, after all. You build their confidence, spark their interest, and trick them into believing they’re capable of greatness.

But when I spar with Weiss, I occasionally find myself striking with genuine lethality before I even realize I’ve lost control.

And the truly fascinating part? Every single time I do, Weiss catches the blow.

It should be impossible. A noble brat who’s been holding a sword for less than six months shouldn't be able to stop a strike delivered with my full power. Every time it happens, my heart shudders with a heated thrill, and a smile I can’t suppress creeps across my face.

If Weiss harbors any dark ambitions, then I am currently fostering a world-class monster.

But I find I don't care. It’s interesting. It’s just so damn interesting.

They say that when things get interesting, they tend to pile up, and this was no exception.

"Teacher Milk... don't you think you're overdoing it?"

"Lilith? What are you doing out at this hour?"

She wasn't carrying a weapon. However, the killing intent radiating from her was thick enough to choke on. Or perhaps she just wasn't bothered to hide it.

"Regarding the training... I believe you should show more restraint. At this rate, Lord Weiss will die."

"I was told to be strict. Besides, I'm perfectly gentle during our magic sessions."

"I think I phrased that poorly," Lilith said, her voice dropping an octave. "I wasn't asking."

"Ha! Well then, if you want me to stop, try making me—"

In the blink of an eye, Lilith vanished. No footsteps, no rustle of fabric. She reappeared behind my right shoulder and launched a kick with the force of a falling star.

I managed to block it at the very last microsecond, but the sheer pressure nearly snapped the bones in my forearm.

"Oh? So force is the language we're speaking, then?"

"Force is fine."

"I see. Weiss certainly keeps a fascinating 'pet.'"

I’d known she was no ordinary maid, but she was a completely different breed than me. An assassin?

After that, Lilith and I sparred many times in secret.

We never reached a definitive conclusion. But one day, after she watched Weiss drag himself off the ground while literal blood sprayed from his mouth, she finally seemed to reach a decision.

She appeared before me as she always did, but this time, she bowed her head low.

"—Please. Teach me magic."

From that day on, Lilith threw herself into magical study with a zeal that bordered on madness. Recovery Magic requires innate talent to even attempt, but she was blessed with an abundance of it.

Nowadays, she works just as hard as Weiss does, though she never lets him see her sweat.

Good grief. Between the two of them, I’ve completely forgotten how boring my life used to be.

---

My swordsmanship was finally reaching a respectable level, but my magic training was still stuck in the "basic" phase.

I was just releasing mana until I passed out. Over and over. That was it.

With only a year left until the Academy entrance ceremony, I was finally starting to feel the itch to actually do something with all this power. I don't usually talk back to the woman who breaks my nose for fun, but I finally worked up the courage to ask.

I told her I wanted to learn actual spells. She just gave me a pitying, wry smile.

"What? Are you panicked that you'll be a 'dropout' if you don't learn a flashy trick soon?"

"Ah, no... it's not quite that. I just... I was wondering why we're still doing this."

"You want an explanation. I suppose that's fair."

"Well... yes."

"Fine," Teacher Milk said, manifesting a flickering spark of Fire Magic in her left hand.

It was tiny, but it burned with a perfect, steady consistency.

"There are no objective HUDs for this, but for the sake of argument, let's call this a power level of 30. And... this is 60."

She manifested a second flame in her other hand. To my eyes, they looked identical.

That’s weird. Logically, a spell with double the mana should be at least twice as big, right?

"Weiss, tell me what you see."

"...Can I be honest?"

"Go ahead."

"They look... exactly the same."

"Exactly. On the surface, at least."

I blinked, totally lost. Teacher Milk had always said that more mana equals more power and more options. I’d assumed it worked like a video game—bigger mana bar, bigger explosions. What she was showing me was the polar opposite of that logic.

"That's a good look on your face. Keep those gears turning. Your problem is that you haven't grasped the essence yet. Watch."

Teacher Milk flicked the '30' flame onto the ground. The grass ignited, sending a decent-sized pillar of fire into the air.

Then, she threw the '60' flame.

My jaw hit the dirt. The ground erupted. A pillar of fire shot up, easily three times the size and intensity of the first one. Mathematically, it didn't make any sense.

"Do you understand now?"

"...The appearance was the same, but the output was massive..."

"Precisely. Mastering this requires high-level technique, obviously. But my point is this: if you imagine your spells swelling to double the size just because you doubled the mana, you're a fool. That just puts your enemy on guard for no reason. Listen to me: the essence of combat is the initiative and the art of deception. There is no 'ready, set, go' in a real fight. A single moment of hesitation, a single false assumption—that’s a direct ticket to the grave."

They look the same, but the density is different. That was her lesson.

I realized then that I was still stuck in a 'game brain' mentality. I’d been daydreaming about learning a dozen different flashy skills to steamroll my enemies, and she had just ruthlessly purged those shallow thoughts from my head.

"Mana capacity is like muscle training. No matter how much talent you have, it only grows in proportion to the time you invest. When people get older and stronger, they start relying on cheap tricks and superficial skills. I’m guilty of it myself. But you, Weiss... you’re different. You’re young, and you’re capable of a level of honest, grueling effort that most people can't fathom. I know it’s tedious. But please... bear with it just a little longer."

It was the first time she had ever been so sincere with me. "Please," she’d said.

I felt a pang of guilt. Up until now, I’d only been thinking about myself—how to avoid dying, how to dodge my "villain" fate.

But it wasn't just about me anymore. I wanted to work hard for Lilith, who was killing herself to support me, and for Teacher Milk, who actually saw something in me.

"I understand. I'll give it everything I've got!"

"That's the spirit. Good. Now, do it until you die."

"Yes, ma'am!"

And so, I went back to draining my mana until the world turned grey. Ugh... it still sucks, though...

Several months passed. My status was showing massive improvements across the board, and one morning, Teacher Milk looked at me and muttered, "It's about time."

"About time for what?"

"I mentioned it before, didn't I? Your practical test."

She was wearing a smile I didn't recognize. It was the kind of smile that made me want to run, hide, and possibly move to a different continent.

I tried to stay calm. It was probably just a monster, right? A goblin or a wolf. Part of me was actually excited to see how I’d hold up in a real fight.

"...So, uh, what kind of monster am I fighting?"

"Monster?"

Teacher Milk let out a short, sharp laugh. Then she dropped a bombshell that shattered my composure.

"The practical test is against a real human being. And to make things interesting... you're going to be the one to pick the fight."

"...Excuse me?"