The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Klaus stood alone in the early dawn, his wooden sword cutting through the stillness of the Lionhart Youth Training Grounds. The rhythmic sound of the blade slicing the air echoed softly against the stone walls, creating a peaceful yet powerful harmony. His body moved with precision, each swing carefully measured, each step placed with intention. But his mind, though free from its usual worries, was still tethered to the questions that had been gnawing at him for a day now. The weight of his thoughts felt heavier than the sword in his hands.

There was something soothing about the simplicity of sword training. Unlike the complex spells he had studied as a mage, the act of swinging a blade was straightforward—pure. It was a new sensation for Klaus, one he had only recently begun to appreciate. In the past, he had always been absorbed in the intricacies of magic, drawn to its limitless possibilities. But now, standing in the quiet of the training grounds, he found peace in the sword's simplicity.

SWOSH

The sword moved again, its path clean and fluid. Klaus's muscles worked automatically, driven by the muscle memory he had built from endless hours of practice. His mind, once filled with doubts and fears, was now clear. For these moments, there was nothing but the blade, his body, and the empty air around him. It was the only thing capable of making him forget—his worries, his expectations, and his fears.

Yet, even in this tranquil moment, Klaus couldn't escape the sensation of being watched. He felt a faint gaze on him, a presence that was both familiar and unsettling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his senses sharpening as he realized who it was. He didn't need to turn around to know that Nicholas Davoss was observing him once again, just as he had done so many times before.

Klaus had sensed Nicholas's gaze on him in the past—whether it was during training, eating, or even just walking through the halls of the dormitory. Nicholas was always watching, and analyzing. It wasn't just idle curiosity; there was something deeper, something more unnerving about the way Nicholas looked at him. Klaus could feel it. It was as if Nicholas saw him as a puzzle that needed to be solved, or worse, a threat that needed to be eliminated.

The thought gnawed at Klaus, pulling him away from the peaceful rhythm of his training. Why was Nicholas so disturbed by his presence? Klaus had never given him a reason to be suspicious, and yet Nicholas's gaze lingered on him constantly. It was as if Klaus's very existence had thrown Nicholas off balance as if he was someone Nicholas had not expected to see.

Was it because Klaus was stronger? He quickly dismissed the thought. Nicholas wasn't the type to be jealous of another's strength. Perhaps it was something else—perhaps Klaus's very nature, his position as an Apostle, was what unsettled him. But then again, did he really know? That alone made Nicholas an enigma, one that Klaus found himself strangely intrigued by.

The Apostles—Klaus and Alex—were different. Their title alone set them apart from the rest, and Klaus knew that the speed of his own progression was far from normal. He had advanced faster than anyone, even Alex, simply because he had used magic to alleviate his fatigue, allowing him to train more than others. But Nicholas… Nicholas was different. He was progressing just as fast, if not faster, and that made Klaus curious. How was this boy, who wasn't an Apostle, managing to keep pace with them? What was his secret?

Klaus's thoughts wandered back to what Greed had told him: seek out Nicholas's help. That was unsettling in itself. How could Nicholas know about Rune Arts? He was just a kid with a sword, after all. Yet, Greed had seen something in Nicholas that Klaus hadn't. It made Klaus uneasy. He hated being blindsided, especially when it came to such a thing.

The sound of the wooden sword swishing through the air brought Klaus back to the present, but the questions lingered. He could feel Nicholas's gaze still on him, watching, waiting. But what for? Klaus wasn't sure, and that uncertainty only added to his growing discomfort.

SWOSH

SWOSH

The quiet rhythm of his sword training was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Klaus didn't need to look to know who it was. The cold aura that filled the air was unmistakable—it was Alex.

Alex's presence was always palpable, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. He walked with purpose, his face a mask of intensity, as if every moment was a challenge that needed to be conquered. He stopped beside Nicholas, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched Klaus. There was tension in Alex's expression, a competitiveness that Klaus had grown used to over the months.

Without a word, Alex glanced at Nicholas, who stood silently observing, and clicked his tongue in annoyance. Ignoring Nicholas, Alex strode over to the rack of training swords, selecting one with deliberate precision. He moved away from both of them, positioning himself at a distance before he began to swing his sword.

SWISH

SWISH

SWISH

Alex's movements were faster, more aggressive than Klaus's. His sword cut through the air with sharp, rapid motions, as if he was trying to outdo Klaus. It wasn't surprising—Alex had always thrived on competition, always pushing himself to be better, faster, stronger. But Klaus couldn't help but smirk to himself. That was just like Alex, always trying to turn everything into a contest.

Nicholas, standing silently between them, finally broke the quiet with a soft laugh. "That's Alex for you," he said, shaking his head. There was an amusement in his voice, but also something else—a hint of understanding. Nicholas knew, just as Klaus did, that Alex's drive came from something deeper than mere competition.

Still, Nicholas couldn't deny the oddity of the situation. Here he was, watching Klaus and Alex swing their swords, while he stood by, simply observing. It was a strange feeling, to be on the outside looking in. With a resigned sigh, Nicholas picked up his own training sword from the rack and joined them.

SWOSH

SWISH

SWOSH

Now, the air was filled with the sound of three swords cutting through the stillness. The sun, once hidden behind the horizon, began to rise, casting a warm golden light over the training grounds. The three boys, each lost in their own thoughts, swung their swords in perfect harmony, unaware of just how deeply their fates were intertwined. None of them knew what the future held, or how the choices they made now would shape the battles to come.

But in that moment, under the rising sun, they were simply three boys, training in the quiet of dawn, their destinies bound together by threads they could not yet see.