A few days had passed since I’d begun my training.
I summoned Chesa to that particular basement.
"M-Master Claude? Did I... did I do something wrong?"
Chesa was trembling with fear inside the dimly lit room. From her perspective, she had been called to the "Punishment Room." She was likely shaking as she imagined what was about to happen to her.
"The reason I called you here today isn't for punishment."
I’d brought her here for a specific purpose. For now, I needed to put her at ease so I could get her cooperation. As Chesa breathed a visible sigh of relief, I asked her a question.
"Chesa. To what extent can you use magic?"
"Eh? I... I can manage up to a Fourth Rank Aqua Lance, somehow..."
"That is sufficient."
I suppose I should have her hold this. I tossed the wooden sword that had been leaning against the wall to her.
"Take a stance."
"Eh?"
"It is a match. Be my opponent; there is no need to hold back."
I took up my own stance with a wooden sword. My goal was to measure my own progress. I’d reached a point where I no longer failed to cast magic up to the Third Rank, so I wanted to get some practical experience.
"I-I cannot! To point a blade at my master...!"
"This is an order."
She was so damn dutiful. Ever since I’d established the Punishment Room, the servants had been taking leaves of absence one after another and fleeing the manor. Yet, Chesa remained by my side. Her loyalty was the real deal.
That was exactly what made this so difficult.
"Or would you prefer the punishment over a match?"
Chesa’s face drained of color. Eventually, with teary eyes, she raised the wooden sword.
"...I am coming!"
She stepped forward with a sharp movement. I was astonished, though only internally. Chesa could actually fight. As the personal maid to the Duke's heir, she’d been drilled in the minimum self-defense techniques required to protect her master. The thrust unleashed from her petite frame was fast enough to rival an average soldier.
However, I could handle it.
"Tepid!"
I parried the wooden sword with minimal movement. A sharp clack echoed through the chamber.
"Chesa! Use your magic!"
"Yes! My apologies!"
Chesa leveled her palm toward me.
"Aqua Lance!"
A spear made of water closed the distance. Magic was divided into the attributes of Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Lightning, Light, and Dark, and a person’s affinity was determined at birth. It seemed Chesa was a user of the Water attribute.
Water was an attribute of healing. Among Fourth Rank spells, there was a magic called Cure that only those with the Water attribute could master. It was an attribute perfectly suited for someone as kind-hearted as her.
But as for me—
"Dark Wall."
A jet-black wall swallowed the water spear whole. My innate attributes were Fire and Dark. The attribute of destruction and the attribute of erosion. I could only master magic intended to hurt people. It seemed the world was determined to make me play the villain to the very end.
"Dark Arma."
Darkness enveloped my body. Chesa’s eyes widened at the sight of me.
"A T-Third Rank Physical Enhancement Magic...?"
So Chesa could only use up to the Fourth Rank. That was perfect. I wanted to see exactly how much of a power gap existed between the ranks.
In an instant, I circled around behind her. I stared silently at her defenseless back for a few seconds. Chesa couldn't even follow my movements; her gaze wandered as she searched for me.
"It is my win."
I pressed the wooden sword against the nape of her neck. Startled, Chesa dropped her sword and raised both hands.
The conclusion had been reached more easily than I’d expected. I’d actually mastered several other things, but given how this went, I probably didn't need to practice the Fire attribute or Fifth Rank magic anymore. I was naturally better with the Dark attribute than Fire, and the Fifth Rank magic Shot was basically just a weaker version of Lance. There was no point in honing inferior spells.
I decided to get Chesa’s input on my progress.
"Chesa, answer me honestly. How strong am I now?"
"H-how strong, you ask?"
"Where do I rank among the tiers of this country? High, middle, or low? There is no need for flattery."
"...You are certainly in the high tier. In magical combat, there is a vast gulf in strength between those who can use Arma and those who cannot. The difference in mobility is simply too great."
I figured as much. I’d understood that during our match. No matter how much one trained in Fourth Rank magic, the only way to hit a human using Arma was to use Arma yourself. It was basically impossible to keep up with the spell’s physical enhancements using raw ability alone.
"Humph. I knew that much."
"M-my apologies."
I actually only just learned that. Thank you for the information.
Well, I’d learned what I wanted to know. I currently possessed the strength of the country's elite. With this, I should be a sufficient wall for Reiji. I had to reign before him as a goal worth overcoming.
"You have served your purpose. Get out."
I spoke coldly, pointing toward the door. I wanted to refine my Dark Arma a bit more; the spell was incredibly versatile.
But man, it was hot in here! Since this was a windowless basement, the ventilation was non-existent. No wonder no one used the place. Maybe I should have picked a different room?
Sweat began to drip down my face, so I wiped it away with my sleeve. Immediately, Chesa gasped.
"Master Claude, those injuries..."
For a second, I didn't know what she meant. Then I realized my blunder.
Damn it. She’d seen the wounds from my training. Magic fails sometimes, and when it does, the backfire bares its fangs at the caster. For the past few days, I’d been practicing magic like a possessed man. I’d probably failed well over a hundred times. I usually kept them hidden with my clothes, but my body was a battered mess of burns, internal bleeding, and deep blue bruises.
This was bad. This wasn't how a Stepping Stone was supposed to look. Claude von Einhart was supposed to be a genius who didn't need to put in effort. Seeing these scars smeared mud all over my "genius" persona.
I glared at her.
"Did you see them?"
Translation: Pretend you didn't see anything.
Chesa was terrified by the sudden pressure and couldn't speak. I pressed harder.
"I am asking if you saw them."
Translation: Play dumb.
I poured as much intent into my gaze as possible. However, after trembling violently, Chesa answered with eyes full of resolve.
"I... I saw them!"
Why the hell are you being so honest?! I don't remember her being this unperceptive...
"Master Claude, please stay still. As a Water user, I can heal those injuries with magic."
Chesa rushed toward me to inspect the wounds. Why? I thought I’d hurt her enough already. Why was she still trying to be so devoted?
"...Why?"
My true feelings slipped out before I could stop them. I prayed she hadn't heard, but Chesa caught the words clearly.
"I am your maid. No matter how much you change, I will stay by your side."
The trembling was gone. Looking into her determined eyes, I realized the truth. I had to push this girl away even harder.
I was the Proud Stepping Stone, Claude von Einhart. I was the man who had to become the enemy of the world. I couldn't let this go any further. If I did, I’d end up leaning on her kindness...
"Don't touch me!" I shouted as she reached out to treat me. "You lowly commoner! Do not lay a finger on my body!"
"B-but, I only wish to heal you..."
"I did not ask for that!"
I looked at the frightened girl and spat out the words that would drive her away.
"Know your place. The only reason I keep you around is because you are a convenient tool. A tool does not talk back to its master."
I threw the most loathsome words I could think of at her. Eventually, a single tear fell from her eyes.
"How... cruel..."
The tears began to pour, wetting the basement floor. Chesa started to sob as if a dam had broken.
"You are cruel... Master Claude...!"
Chesa turned and ran out of the basement. From beyond the open iron door, I could hear her footsteps fading away. I clenched my fist tightly and then used that same fist to punch myself in the cheek.
"Idiot."
Don't let your guard down, Claude von Einhart. You have to be stained with evil to the very marrow of your bones.
Chesa, the young servant of the Einhart house, had once—and only once—seriously intended to kill someone.
The former Claude had been arrogant, irrational, and treated people like objects. Serving him had been a living hell. With the financial support for her impoverished family held over her head as leverage, she couldn't escape. Eventually, she reached her breaking point.
I'm going to kill him.
Chesa decided to poison her master. She was desperate. She didn't care if she was caught; she just wanted it to end. She chose a cheap, fast-acting toxin. Anything she could get her hands on was fine.
However, the night before she was to do the deed, Claude changed. He became kind, as if he were a completely different person.
Naturally, she was flustered and postponed the poisoning. She assumed she’d eventually have to kill him anyway, so she kept the small vial of poison tucked away in her clothes. But the opportunity never came. Claude’s reformation was genuine. Her master was sincerely trying to become a good man.
That was too close.
If he had changed just a little bit later, she would have killed him. She would have murdered a man who might have become a great ruler. That realization ate away at her. She suffered from insomnia and would vomit at the slightest provocation.
She didn't need the poison anymore. Chesa was grateful for a world where she didn't have to become a murderer.
But that lapse in focus was her undoing. One day, the vial she’d forgotten to dispose of fell from her dress. Claude was the one who picked it up.
"...Poison, I see."
He likely guessed the truth from how panicked she looked. At that moment, Chesa didn't have the composure to lie.
"I-I don't care what happens to me! So please... at least spare my family...!"
Chesa prostrated herself and begged for mercy. She expected to be killed. Executed. Perhaps her entire family would be slaughtered. Despite seeing his recent kindness, the image that came to her mind in a crisis was still the former Claude. She was still terrified of him.
Claude stared at the vial for a long time.
"Do you have an antidote?"
"Eh? ...Y-yes. I do..."
Claude opened the vial and drank the poison in one go.
"What are you—!?"
Before the screaming girl, Claude gripped his throat in agony and collapsed. Chesa rushed to her room, grabbed the antidote she had hidden under her bed, and raced back. Because the poison was cheap and weak, and because she’d administered the antidote immediately, Claude narrowly escaped death.
The moment he was stable, Chesa entered his room. Claude was sitting up in bed, looking remorseful as he saw her face.
"...Sorry. I caused you trouble."
"This isn't about trouble! Why would you do something so reckless?!"
"I wanted to test it," Claude said, casting his eyes downward. "I wanted to know... if the current me was a person worthy of living for you, Chesa."
That was the first time she realized just how much anxiety her master harbored. Tears spilled from her eyes. Claude doubted his own value so much that he couldn't even trust his own judgment. He’d put his life in someone else's hands just to be sure.
She could feel his pain. The more he tried to be a good person, the more his past sins haunted him. The path he was trying to walk was incredibly steep.
"The past won't vanish. But even so, I want to change."
Claude looked at her with a serious gaze.
"Chesa, will you help me? I want to change."
He was serious. He was risking his life to change himself.
Then I will risk my life, too.
Chesa felt responsible. She was the one who had saved his life. She had to stay by his side. Even if the entire world turned against him, she would serve him until the end.
She’d made that vow that day.
And yet—
"Master Claude... I'm so sorry."
Sitting on the stairs, Chesa sniffled. Her vow hadn't been a lie. But Claude’s eyes today were the same eyes he’d had back then. They were the eyes that looked at her like she was trash.
What should she do? How could she make him see sense?
"I... I feel like I'm going to break."
Another week passed since I’d seen Chesa’s tears.
She was still working as my personal maid, but she’d become noticeably silent. Honestly, she should stay away from me for a while. At the very least, I should revoke her position as my personal maid. If she wouldn't do it, I’d handle the paperwork myself later. I felt that if she stayed near me, I’d only end up hurting her more.
But I didn't have the luxury of worrying about others. To become the Proud Stepping Stone, I still had mountains to climb.
I continued to train like a madman. My success rate with Third Rank Dark Arma was now a perfect hundred percent. I hadn't mastered Second Rank magic yet, but I was starting to feel the logic behind it. I was definitely getting stronger.
Still, the anxiety wouldn't leave me. Was this enough? My goal was a height far above this. I had to be a wall of despair that Reiji had to overcome. Could I really reach that level at this pace?
My god-given ability, The Worldline as It Should Be (Master Eye), only activated at major turning points. I couldn't check if the path I was walking day-to-day was correct. That uncertainty bred impatience.
"Dammit."
I clicked my tongue as I sweated in the basement. I’d been working on my physical strength alongside my magic, but bodily growth took time to show results. The wooden sword slipped from my hand and clattered onto the floor.
Looking at my palm, I saw a blister had popped. Moving a single finger sent a bolt of pain through my arm. I’d overdone it.
"You're quite the worker."
A voice spoke.
I looked around reflexively, but the room was empty. Of course it was; I’d never let anyone in here while I was training. It was a young man’s voice, but there was no sign of a person.
Instead, I found something strange.
"...Hm?"
A single sword was leaning against the wall. Where did that come from? Was that always there? It was an expensive-looking blade decorated in gold and silver. It wasn't overly gaudy, but the balance of elegance and functionality spoke of master craftsmanship.
"A bit slow, aren't you? It's me."
The sword talked!
It was like some kind of talking electronic toy from my old life.
"Who... what are you?" I asked cautiously.
The sword answered immediately.
"I am the Holy Sword."
So, it was a DX Holy Sword?