Mushoku Impact

"Wake up. We've got places to be this morning."
"Nnngh..."
Though he was usually quick to rise, Paul rolled away from Reida when she tried to rouse him. She had been running him ragged for nearly three weeks, both day and night, so he didn't feel like moving now that she had given him a day off.
Prompting Paul awake, Reida created a thread of Electro Energy between her index finger and thumb. The moment Paul heard the tell-tale chirp it made, he instantly leaped out of bed, barely evading Reida's attempts to poke his ass.
Amused by Paul's reaction, a deep-throated chuckle emanated from Reida's throat as she squinted her eyes and remarked, "See? You're full of energy. Now, get dressed. Today may be a day off from training, but that doesn't mean you have time to laze around. We're having brunch with the Dean of the Royal Academy. After that, we'll be attending an Intermediate Swordsmanship class as guest lecturers."
Understanding this was Reida's attempt to help him meet with Philip, a wry yet appreciative smile developed across Paul's face as he offered a curt, "Thanks." Reida rolled her eyes in response, but a faint smile could be seen on her face before she turned away to retrieve a fresh change of clothes. It was pretty common to wear the same outfit for days at a time, but Reida liked to freshen up a bit before venturing into places filled with Nobles. She wasn't particularly self-conscious, but she'd rather not smell like sex around snobby and judgmental 'asshats'...
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After changing into their respective attires, Reida and Paul took a detour around a parade field nearly a kilometer long before entering a building not all that dissimilar in design to the Citadel of Reida. There, after waiting for a short while, they were permitted entry into the Dean's office, within which stood a nearly two-meter tall man with a Hedwig-like owl sitting on his left shoulder.
As could be expected of the most prestigious institution in the Asura Kingdom, potentially even the entire world, the Dean of the Ars Royal Academy was an aged yet gentlemanly-looking fellow that exuded the aura of a Knight and Scholar. He was nearing sixty-eight years old but possessed the physique and stature of someone much younger despite his solid white hair, neatly groomed beard, and stylish mustache.
While Paul was evaluating him, the Dean, more commonly known as Earl Aegir Roehn Whiteowl, was doing much the same. His piercing blue eyes radiated a fierce intellect while the medals adorning his ebony breastplate alluded to the wealth of experience he had accumulated over his decades of service to the Kingdom.
After a moment of tense silence, Earl Aegir offered what appeared to be an approving nod as he stated, "Outstanding. It's no wonder His Majesty and the Water God have taken an interest in you. I sense a phenomenal power within you, but you carry yourself as any respectable man ought to, with measured dignity..."
Not sure how else to respond to the man's words, Paul simply smiled as he replied, "The Earl's words are too kind. I am-"
Before Paul could continue with the pleasantries, Reida abruptly elbowed him in the ribs, saying, "Cut it out. You're no longer a Noble, and we didn't come here to play politics. You're a Swordsman now. Time to start acting like it."
Resisting the urge to point out that 'playing politics' was the exact reason they were at the Royal Academy, Paul ultimately rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya..." in a lazy tone.
Amused by the duo's interaction, a grandfatherly chuckle emanated from Earl Aegir's throat as he reached up to caress his beard. He was a warrior himself, and while he didn't wholeheartedly approve of Reida's words, he understood where she was coming. At his age, adherence to manners and etiquette seemed increasingly like a waste of time...
After his brief chuckle, Earl Aegir sent his owl-like familiar to roost as he suggested, "Let us away to my private conference room. We can discuss the matter of your tenure as a guest lecturer over brunch."
Gesturing to the double doors on the right side of his office, Earl Aegir waited for Reida to practically kick them open before walking around his desk and encouraging Paul to enter before him. Within was a rectangular wooden table that could easily seat twelve people, and, as was often the case in Noble conference rooms and studies, various trinkets and trophies that served as conversation subjects lined the walls and shelves.
Noticing a rather large number of taxidermied owls, Paul didn't even need to ask before Earl Aegir revealed, "It is tradition for main-line descendants of House Whiteowl to have an owl companion. These eight are the friends I have lost over the years. I keep them here as a reminder of my past and to never become complacent..."
Though Earl Aegir was speaking to him, Paul could tell the elderly man's mind was far from the confines of the conference room. It was only for a brief moment, but he had the distant look of someone that had seen and experienced a little 'too much' in life. It was evident that parts of him still lived in the past, perennially trapped in instants where he could have tried just a bit harder to guarantee the outcome he desired...
Noticing Paul staring at him with a mixture of concern and respect, a grandfatherly smile developed across Earl Aegir's face as he muttered, "You're a good lad..." before walking past him and taking his seat at the head of the table. Paul eventually followed suit, sitting next to Reida and ignoring her as she asked, "What the hell was that about...?"
Freeing Paul from the obligation of having to respond, Earl Aegir rang a tiny silver bell that prompted an aged Butler and half a dozen traditionally dressed Maids to enter the room. Reida was a bit of a brute, but she was still the Water God. It wasn't often Earl Aegir entertained guests of such import within the Academy, so he pulled all the stops by having his staff prepare a small feast.
"I was unaware of your preferences, so I had my people prepare a little bit of everything. Please, enjoy. No need courtesy or restraint."
Taking Earl Aegir's words at face value, Reida promptly tore off an entire leg of lamb and began chowing down on it with her bare hands. This was a rather stark contrast to Paul, who, despite his inordinate appetite, took the time to arrange his plate and employ utensils.&nbsp;
With his Butler arranging his plate, Earl Aegir took a moment to look over Paul's and Reida's plates before focusing his steely, blue-eyed gaze on the former as he asked, "While this is a little forward, mind telling me the actual reason you're trying to enter the Academy? You should know that the First Prince has it out for you and your companions. I already warned those two lasses, but I'll afford you the same warning. Never expose your hand before a mad dog unless you're willing to lose a few fingers..."
Though he understood what the Earl was trying to say, Paul didn't have much of a choice unless he wanted to take a back seat and let matters take their course. Approaching Philip might put the man in danger, but it also put him in a better position if he intended to become the future Lord of Fittoa. The First Prince couldn't simply order his execution, so his most likely course of action would be to pull James to his side by promising his support in the upcoming succession dispute.
While the backing of the 'future King' sounded like a tremendous boon on paper, the truth of the matter was that House Boreas had opposed the First Prince, or, more accurately, the Nobles backing him for years. A lot of hardliners within the Capital wanted to 'cleanse' the Kingdom by expelling all non-humans from their borders. If that were to happen, House Boreas, and the Fittoa Region as a whole, would suffer immensely.
Deciding to be partially honest, Paul revealed, "The Lord of the Milbots Region has petitioned me to help smooth relations with House Boreas of the Fittoa Region. To that end, I intend to meet with the First and Second Sons of House Boreas to determine which, if any side, is worth supporting in the upcoming succession battle. When I heard Philip was attending the Royal Academy, I figured he may as well be the first I speak with."
Nodding his head, Earl Aegir's eyes appeared to lose focus for a moment as he muttered, "I see..." in a thoughtful tone. He knew Paul wasn't telling him everything, but that wasn't a surprise. Only knaves and fools revealed more than could be readily verified through observation.
Without actually needing to consider his response, Earl Aegir offered a second nod as he said, "Very well. From today onward, you are free to wander the grounds of the Royal Academy. Certain areas, such as the female bath and dormitory, are understandably off-limits, but you can enter any other facility that isn't labeled as restricted. In exchange, I ask that you assist in the Intermediate Swordsmanship classes at least thrice a week. I believe this arrangement benefits both of us...?"
Returning a nod of his own, Paul answered, "Agreed." in a curt tone. He wasn't too enthused about the prospect of having to babysit a bunch of pretentious Nobles, but at least he would be able to see how things were going in Jean's and Eula's classes. They had said there were no issues thus far, but it wouldn't be the first time they had glossed over something to keep him from losing his cool or going on a rampage.
Seeing through Paul's thoughts, at least partially, an amused chuckle emanated from Earl Aegir's throat as he replied, "Excellent. Then, with that out of the way, why don't we focus on our meal? If we chatter much longer, our raven-haired friend here might eat everything..."
Raising her right brow, Reida ceased shoveling food into her mouth long enough to ask, "You picking a fight...?" in a challenging tone. In response, Earl Aegir immediately shook his head, an amused smile lingering on his face as he mused, "Not even if our ages were reversed."
"Hmmm..."
Though she briefly narrowed her eyes, Reida eventually decided to let the Earl off and focus on her meal. Even in his heydey, Earl Aegir was a mere Sword Saint. He had clearly persisted in his training, but there was no way his aging frame could keep up with the strains of high-level combat. If he could still execute even a single Longsword of Light, Reida would be more than impressed. She may even respect him.
Unaware of Reida's rather rude thoughts, Earl Aegir engaged Paul in some casual conversation as the two of them ate their meals at a relaxed pace. Reida was quickly bored by this, but Paul had always harbored respect for the elderly. He could also count the number of 'reasonable' Nobles he had met on a single hand, so he rather enjoyed the conversation...
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While Paul and Reida were away at the Royal Academy, an auburn-haired man whose expression and gaze exuded resentment seized the chance to enter the Citadel. His rank deterred anyone from getting in his way, so he was able to make his way to the very heart of the Citadel, specifically the instructor housing area.
Though he was tempted to use a magical tool to enter Reida's room, the man suppressed the urge as he stopped in front of a door several rooms down. His knock was initially met with silence, but after knocking several more times, a woman with amethyst purple eyes eventually answered the door, asking, "Can I help you...?" with a skeptical look on her face.
Instead of answering the woman's question, a malicious smile developed across the man's, Water King Vuldar's, face. He had waited for the better part of three weeks for his mother to leave the Citadel, and, now that she had, he intended to make the brat who had soiled her pay...
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Though people like the King and Reida were becoming increasingly aware of how dangerous Paul and his Party were, they were among the few who knew the 'truth.' Most didn't even believe they were a Party of Saints, so, with the fearlessness of a young lamb entering into the den of a sleeping dragon, Vuldar forced open the door to Ei's room with a smile that made his intentions transparently clear.
Seeing his would-be quarry step back, the smile on Vuldar's face became even more sinister as he practically growled, "Don't blame me for what's about to happen, wench. Everything you're about to suffer is the result of your affiliation with that pretentious little brat..."
As Vuldar raised his hands like he was about to pounce on her, Ei's look of contempt morphed into one of unbridled disgust as she asked, "And what of the others? Are they also being beset by you and your filthy lot...?"
Sealing his fate, dark laughter emanated from Vuldar's throat as he said, "Oh, don't you worry about them. Once I'm through with you, I'll be sure to pay each of them a visit..."
"I see..."
"Huh...?"
Hearing Ei's voice suddenly emanating from behind him, Vuldar attempted to turn only to find his body both rigid and in immense pain. He had never experienced electrocution before, so he didn't fully understand what was happening as Ei muttered, "No evidence..." in a cold tone.
As Ei sliced downward with a vibrant purple sword that Vuldar had failed to see her draw, the pain in his body increased to an unfathomable level. It was only for a brief moment, but he felt as though every individual cell of his body was being sliced apart as an eye-shaped tear opened up to swallow him whole. When it faded, not even a hair remained of the once-proud Sword King.
Without even sparing a glance toward where Vuldar had been standing moments prior, Ei called out, "It's safe now." in a calm voice. Shortly after, Lilia emerged from a small storage closet, her eyes briefly searching the room as she asked, "Where did he go...?"
Shaking her head, Ei stated, "That's not important." before gesturing toward the unfinished meal she and Lilia had been enjoying. Paul had been worried about the two of them living alone, so instead of letting Lilia enroll as an ordinary student, she had been boarding with Ei as a live-in disciple. This was a beneficial arrangement for both parties as Lilia had a peerless Swordmaster to guide her while Ei had someone to prevent her from inadvertently burning down the Citadel.
Swallowing the knot that had formed in her throat, Lilia meekly replied, "I understand..." before making her way over to the half-eaten arrangement of food. She had always had more respect than fear towards Ei, but the knowledge that her interim Master could effectively erase someone from existence shook Lilia to the core...
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Unaware that her eldest son had just died, a slight frown marred Reida's expression despite the fact she had been smiling moments prior. Paul and Earl Aegir immediately noticed this, the latter seizing the initiation to ask, "Was there something foul mixed in with the food...?"
Shaking her head, Reida replied, "Nah, the food tastes fine. It's just...I feel like I've forgotten, or maybe lost something? I can't really explain it..."
No longer feeling hungry, Reida placed down the fork she had reluctantly picked up after observing Paul and Earl Aegir. Then, trusting her intuition, she stated, "I'm returning to the Citadel. Those brats wouldn't be able to understand even if I tried to teach them, so Paul can assist in the lessons without me."
Without waiting for a response, Reida rose to her feet, approached the nearest window, and promptly leaped out. They were on the third story, but someone who could casually leap more than 70m into the air didn't concern themselves with falling ten.
Rising after her, Paul followed Reida to the window but elected not to leap out. Instead, he observed her with a severe expression on his face as she blitzed across the kilometer-long parade field in seconds. Earl Aegir also rose to his feet, proposing, "Perhaps it's for the best if we end our brunch here. There is still more than an hour until the lecture you and the Water God were expected to attend, so you've more than enough time to follow after her if you'd like."
Though he was tempted to do exactly that, Paul eventually shook his head after mentally accounting for the location of his allies. Even if the King had died the previous night, it would take weeks before power and authority could be transferred to the First Prince. And that was assuming he was allowed to take the throne at all. Thus, unless Orsted himself had invaded the Citadel, the incident that triggered Reida's abnormal reaction shouldn't have anything to do with them. At the very least, they shouldn't be in any significant danger...
"It should be okay. There are many capable people within the Citadel. If a situation occurs that they and Reida can't settle, my presence would only complicate things..."
"Mmm...knowing your limits is a good thing. Trusting in your companions is also important..."
Not wanting to get into a lecture, Earl Aegir allowed his words to trail off as he pulled out an ornate silver pocket watch to compare its time against a mounted clock. After confirming the times were the same, he nodded in approval before pocketing the watch and saying, "I'll have someone show you to the amphitheater where you'll be rendering your assistance. There should be a class going on, so you can alleviate any doubts you may have by observing another instructor."
"Right."
Though his interest in the Citadel was increasing by the moment, Paul suppressed his curiosity as one of the most secretary-like women he had ever met escorted him to a large, open-air theater. There, a total of thirty-three students had gathered in the arena, several of which were dressed in fine clothes that were better suited to a ballroom than a battlefield.
Recognizing Jean among the three instructors, Paul resisted the urge to wave and interrupt the class as he found a place to sit in the stands. She noticed him around the same time as the other instructors, but instead of walking over or waving, she just offered a subtle nod before returning her attention to an ongoing spar.
Seeing the lackluster abilities of the students, Paul wasn't surprised. The oldest appeared to be around 12-13 years old, and it was clear they didn't care about swordsmanship. And why should they? Most of them wouldn't leave the Capital their entire lives, and, by this age, their respective paths had already been decided. Those that were lucky enough to be born First or Second Sons bore the responsibility of continuing their family's legacy. As for the rest, they would invariably become low to mid-ranking Knights or servants within the Houses of higher-ranking Nobles...
With half an hour passing like three, Paul began to reconsider his deal with Earl Aegir. Fortunately, just as boredom reached a peak, the lead instructor, a blonde-haired man with blue eyes who appeared to be in his twenties, gathered the students for a few parting words before dismissing them. Unfortunately, no sooner had the students started to disperse than both he and his colleague gravitated toward Jean, their proximity much closer than proper etiquette dictated.
Exhaling an exasperated sigh, Paul muttered, "Of course..." as he rose to his feet and approached the trio. He didn't know what they were saying, but the forced smile on Jean's face made it clear she wasn't amused by whatever they were proposing.
Noticing Paul's approach, the blonde-haired man, donned in stylish and extremely expensive-looking armor that consisted of a muscular, ebony-black cuirass, ornate golden greaves, matching gauntlets, and pauldrons turned to him and noted, "You're that fellow who was loitering about the lower rungs of the cavea. If you've no business here, you should excuse yourself. My associates and I aren't in the habit of entertaining vagrants."
Though Paul's clothing was reasonably high quality, it was far from the standards of Capital Nobles. He had also developed a habit of wearing his collar open, something no 'upstanding' Noble would even consider. Thus, at first glance, he gave off the appearance of a well-off mercenary rather than a bonafide, albeit former, Noble.
Resisting the urge to spartan kick the twenty-something in his chiseled jawline, Paul adopted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he said, "One of your 'associates' happens to be a member of my Party and one of my most trusted allies. If I come to learn you and your friend have been harassing her, you're going to be receiving an introduction to the ground. And trust me, your relationship will be intimate."
Scoffing as if he had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world, the blonde-haired man turned to Jean and asked, "This cur is the 'legendary' Paul Greyrat? Given your lady-like bearing and disposition, I expected a lot more than...whatever this is."
Visibly suppressing a sigh, Jean took it upon herself to gesture to the two men, explaining, "These two 'gentlemen' are Viscounts Alex Goldweaver and Marcus Blackbird, Sword Saints and Companion Knights of the 22nd Chivalric Order..."
Hearing Jean mention his pedigree and rank, an unabashedly proud smile developed across Alex's face. He was only twenty-two years old but had already attained the Rank of Companion in just two short years. With his talent, not even his status as the Fourth Son of House Goldweaver could prevent him from reaching the Rank of Knight Commander or even Grand Officer in the future.
Contrasting whatever expectations Alex may have had, Paul appeared wholly unimpressed as he remarked, "That explains the pomp. Just how long do you spend polishing that 'immaculate' armor of yours? Oh, let me guess, someone else shines it for you...?"
Understanding what Paul meant when he placed extra emphasis on the condition of his armor, a contemptuous expression formed across Alex's face as he remarked, "Not everyone feels the need to prove themselves by slaying mindless beasts and routing poorly equipped bandits. Nor do they need to resort to forbidden techniques to stay relevant in a society that has disowned them..."
Since the only people who had 'disowned' him were envious asshats and people wholly unaware of the situation, Paul couldn't help rolling his eyes in response to Alex's taunting. He genuinely didn't care what the man had to say; the only thing that mattered to him was whether or not he and his little shadow were harassing Jean.
Ignoring the contemptuous gaze Alex was giving him, Paul looked past him and asked, "Have these bunglenuts been badgering you...?"
Though she knew what would happen if she answered yes, a wry smile developed across Jean's face as she replied, "I have refused each time, but Viscount Goldweaver seems determined to have me attend dinner at his family's residence. As for-"
Before she could absolve Marcus of any overt misconduct, Alex stepped in between Jean and Paul; his blue eyes narrowed as he said, "What I do and who I invite to dinner are my business. As for Dame Jean...though she may be a member of your Party, you've no right to meddle in her personal life. No one here is forcing her, so take your petulant envy elsewhere."
As if it was supposed to scare him off, Alex placed his hand on the sword at his hip. He had heard the news regarding Paul's nomination as Reida's successor, but no true Sword God user feared a member of the Water God School. With the amount of effort he had made over the past sixteen and a half years, he was absolutely sure he could trounce a thirteen-year-old brat playing at being an adult. Paul may be the youngest Sword and Water Saint in history, but the methods he used to obtain said ranks were known to all. There was no way he could defeat a 'genuine' Sword Saint...
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"Back straight, legs bent, chin raised! If I catch you slacking off, it's a rod to the shoulder...!"
Gritting his teeth, Paul did his best to stay focused even as his eyes stung from the thick layer of sweat dripping from his brows and body. Reida had him don a pair of stone clubs, each weighing 50kg, before instructing him to stand in a circle populated by mechanical training dummies. Instead of asking him to strike them, however, Reida forced him to squat down, clubs held out to the sides, as the dummies, rudimentary golems, whirred to life. His objective was to prevent the six-limbed mannequins from coming into contact with himself or the stone clubs, a task that was easier said than done as their individual segments spun at varying speeds and directions.
"Fuck...!"
Though he was doing his best to read the movements of the dummies, Paul's arms felt like they were on the verge of dislocating after holding out the tip-heavy stone maces for several minutes. While this might not sound like an exceptionally long period of time, it was a fucking nightmare when a raven-haired psychopath was waiting to smack you with a banded wooden rod every time you attempted to shake off the tension in your joints.
Seeing the tip of Paul's club rebound as it was struck by a mannequin, a fierce gleam flashed across Reida's eyes as she shouted, "Weak...!" in an audibly excited tone. At the same time, she effortlessly weaved between the whirling arms of the mannequins, her hand tightening around the grip of her rod as she attempted to strike Paul's left shoulder. He was allowed to dodge, but she always made sure to attack from a direction that would force him towards one of the rotating dummies.
Feeling his scalp tingle, Paul turned his body and stepped into the path of a mannequin, attempting to slip through to the other side before it could complete a revolution. He very nearly made it, but one of the mannequin's arms ended up striking the stone mace trailing behind him.
"That makes two...!"
Flipping over both Paul and the mannequin, Reida effectively cut off his path of retreat before striking both of his shoulders with measured but lightning-fast strikes. The look he gave her was like a starving beast that had just stumbled across a fat lamb, but she just smiled and backstepped through the gap between two mannequins without even looking.
While resolving himself to fuck Reida's brains out the first chance he got, Paul continued the hellish training for nearly a half-hour before the magic crystals powering the pseudo-golems ran out of juice. However, before he could even think to try and recuperate, Reida tossed him a pair of wooden swords and said, "That should do for a warm-up. For the next hour or two, you'll hold your ground as you try to deflect and parry my attacks. You're allowed to move your feet, but you can't leave that circle."
Using her wooden sword, Reida pointed to a painted white circle that was around 50cm in diameter. An adult of average height and build stood with their feet roughly 35-42cm apart when standing casually, so Paul wouldn't even be able to get into a proper stance while confined to such a tiny space.
"..."
Resisting the urge to complain and call bullshit, Paul made his way over to the circle with a resolute expression on his face. He had decided to spend these next five months improving his swordsmanship, so, even if it turned out Reida was just fucking with him, he intended to take it seriously.
Nodding her head in approval, Reida began to walk clockwise around Paul as she revealed, "As absurd as this may sound, your physique is actually better than mine. The heaviest boulder I can lift is around 700kgs, so your ability to raise over a thousand is nothing short of ridiculous..."
Having completed a full circle, Reida stared into the depths of Paul's eyes as she added, "What you lack, more than anything else, is experience and control. You spend too much time thinking, and your mastery over Touki is a complete joke. If you didn't have such excessive reserves, wearing your Touki as armor would completely exhaust you in minutes..."
As Touki placed an extreme burden on the body, most people only used it in small bursts, specifically during attack and defense. Paul was only the second person Reida had met who could wear their Touki for minutes at a time without collapsing. With the other being the second strongest being in the world, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that Paul could be a monster if he pushed his mastery to the limits.
Excited by the prospect of having a powerful opponent she could face at her leisure, Reida suppressed her slight envy as she said, "As I see it, you have two routes available to you. You can continue wearing your Touki like armor, focusing purely on defense, or you can master using it in small but powerful bursts to drastically increase your speed and power. Depending on your choice, we'll adjust our training accordingly."
Hearing Reida reference his reserves, Paul couldn't help asking, "Is there a way to determine how much Touki I have compared to other people...?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Reida replied, "You could look for someone with Demon Eyes of Power Perception. I've never met anyone that actually has them, but they can supposedly see the 'power level' of other people. It's a pretty worthless ability compared to other Demon Eyes, so, even if they chanced upon the Demon Empress, Kishirika Kishirisu, most people would ask for something different."
"Right..."
Though he would readily gouge out his left eye for such an ability, Paul could understand why others would pursue something else. Unless you were an Assassin or trying to avoid powerful foes, there was no practical use for being able to interpret another person's power level. Besides, just having a bigger number didn't mean you were guaranteed to win. Reida's words made it pretty obvious she had less overall Touki than him, but Paul couldn't even imagine defeating her at his current level...
"Hurry up and decide. If you want to focus on defense, I'm going to keep attacking you until your Touki runs out. If you're going to focus on control, I'll only attack periodically, but you're prohibited from using Touki until the moment my sword touches your body. As counterintuitive as that sounds, it's one of the best ways to use Touki for defense. The moment it spreads through your body, it creates a repulsive force that radiates outward. With proper timing, you can both deflect your opponent's attack and create an opening to exploit. Here, I'll give you a demonstration."
Holding out her hand, Reida made it pretty clear she wanted Paul to strike it with his sword. When he did, Reida's hand barely budged as a numbing sensation, similar to the feeling you would get when striking metal with a sledgehammer, ran up his arm.
Seeing the muscles of Paul's jaw flex, a teasing smile developed across Reida's face as she mused, "See what I mean? It takes a lot of practice and superior control, but it prevents you from simply wasting your Touki. Without it, the average Saint is no better than the average Intermediate Swordsman."
Demonstrating that even she didn't have perfect control, Reida shook out the numbness from her hand as she said, "To be perfectly honest, you're probably better off focusing purely on defense. With that purple-haired monster in your Party, even S-Rank monsters shouldn't give you too much trouble. You just need to focus on surviving and protecting the backline as a middle-guard tank. You are the literal 'heart' of your Party, so everything goes to shit if you fall."
Though she was unaware that the fate of two worlds hinged on Paul's survival, Reida could tell he was 'very' important to the other members of his Party. If he could become powerful enough that the others didn't feel the need to watch over him, his Party could become one of the greatest in history. Hell, they already had at least one God-Ranked individual in their ranks...
Freeing Reida from her wayward thoughts, Paul adopted a wry smile as he asked, "Is it possible to choose both...?"
Blinking back to awareness, a massive grin developed across Reida's face as she replied, "Sure. We'll just have to train you twice as hard. Just keep in mind this is still the Beginner-Rank menu for those chosen to inherit the position of Water God. Once we transition into the Advanced Rank training menu, there's a fair chance you'll suffer a breakdown if you're too greedy."
Leaving Reida feeling but unsurprised, Paul didn't even hesitate before nodding his head and saying, "That's fine. So long as I'm still alive at the end, I'll recover..." in a solemn tone.&nbsp;
Shaking her head in mock exasperation, a faint smile graced Reida's face as she softly mused, "Young and reckless..."
Without waiting for Paul to respond, Reida's right arm became a blur as she abruptly smacked him on the crown with her wooden sword. Things like starting signals didn't exist in active combat scenarios, so, even if it was a little mean-spirited of her, Reida intended to tor&mdash;train Paul until it was nearly impossible to catch him by surprise...
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As news of Paul becoming Reida's successor traveled beyond the walls of the Citadel, a fairly handsome man with sand-colored hair and dark-blue eyes could be seen glaring at the immaculate white structure from one of the Silver Palace's many balconies. He normally wore a smile that gave off the impression of a venomous snake, but his current demeanor was closer to that of a contemptuous God as he imagined himself tearing off the roof of the Citadel, plucking Paul from the inside, and crushing him like the bug he was.
Ignoring the fact he had dispatched a small army of assassins, the sandy-haired man, First Prince Grabell Zafin Asura, muttered, "Despicable cur...I gave you a chance to escape, yet you return to be a thorn in my side? Are you so inept that you simply can't fathom the terror that awaits you if you become the next Water God...?"
Though he probably wouldn't be able to get away with ordering Paul to slaughter his family, Grabell could already imagine the look of terror and desperation on his would-be rival's face as he was forced to torture and maim the members of his Party. Paul was known to collect beauties like they were flowers, so Grabell would have him 'pluck' each of their petals until nothing but stems remained...
Turning toward one of his Guardians, a similarly aged man with sleek black hair and square-rimmed glasses, Grabell commanded, "I am to be apprised of each of Paul Greyrat's activities. I want to know everyone he talks to, everywhere he goes, and even the food he eats. He may have the King's backing, but the same cannot be said for those he interacts with. If he shows so much as a hint of kindness to someone during his stay in the Capital, you are to capture them immediately. If their status proves to be an issue, contact their family and extend a dinner invitation. I'll take care of the rest."
Bowing much lower than was typically necessary, Grabell's personal Knight replied, "As you will, Your Majesty."
Though it would cause several issues if someone were to hear Grabell's subordinates referring to him with the title 'Majesty,' the First Prince had near-absolute influence over the section of the palace he resided in. He had hand-picked each and every one of his servants and attendants, so there was not a single person that was not absolutely loyal or too afraid to offend him. This would be considered excessive by most, but, in Prince Grabell's world, the only form of control that mattered was absolute...
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Chapter 139: MI139: Reprieve : Accord