If they were ordinary five-year-olds, both Rudy and Wood would have likely started crying from the strain by now. But neither of them were typical children. Each had a soul far more mature than Paul's.
Rudy's hands were covered in blisters from repeatedly swinging the wooden sword.
Still, he clung to the belief that as the reincarnated "chosen one," all he had to do was push through the pain, and he would surely unlock some incredible power. This determination kept him going, despite the growing discomfort.
When Zenith saw Rudy's reddened, blistered hands, she looked heartbroken.
After she applied the ointment and wrapped his hands in bandages, her gaze shifted to Wood, who was still quietly swinging his sword. Her expression quickly turned into one of frustration.
However, her frustration wasn't directed at Wood—it was aimed at Paul.
Zenith glared at her husband, clearly blaming him for being too harsh on their children. She was angry that, even though Rudy had been allowed to take a break, Paul was still making Wood continue his training.
"It's not my fault! I just told them they could rest," Paul said defensively, surrendering the moment he saw Zenith's piercing glare. "Wood's the one who didn't want to stop."
But Zenith didn't buy his excuse. Grabbing the ointment, she marched over to Wood and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Wood, you've worked so hard today. Take a break for now. Let Mommy apply some ointment for you," she said softly.
Wood seemed like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Zenith had already taken his wooden sword from his hand.
However, when she looked down at Wood's hands, she froze in place.
Rudy's hands were small and delicate, but they were now raw and bloody from the blisters. Wood's hands, in contrast, were completely unscathed.
But what caught Zenith's attention even more was the number of calluses on Wood's palms. His hands were still small and childlike, but they didn't look like the hands of an ordinary five-year-old.
"Wood, I noticed something earlier," Paul interjected. "Your movements with the sword were very smooth. At first, I thought you were just naturally gifted and quickly grasped the basics.
"But now I can tell you've used a sword before, haven't you?"
Paul knew all too well what a first-time sword user would experience during intense training. After all, he had gone through the same thing, and Rudy was currently the perfect example.
But based on the calluses on Wood's hands, Paul realized that this wasn't Wood's first time with a sword. It wasn't even his first time practicing swordsmanship.
"So, you've figured it out," Wood said with a sheepish grin, like a child whose secret had been uncovered. "I promised to keep it a secret, but I guess it can't be helped now. Sorry, Lilia.
"Yes, I've been learning the basics of swordsmanship from Lilia. But it's not her fault—I begged her to teach me. I wanted to be strong, like the heroes in the stories, so I could protect the people I care about."
Wood stuck out his tongue playfully, as if embarrassed by the small "secret" he had just confessed.
Upon hearing that Wood had been learning swordsmanship from Lilia, Paul's confusion disappeared.
It made perfect sense. After all, Lilia had once been Paul's sparring partner. The fact that she had taught Wood some swordsmanship wasn't all that surprising.
What did shock Paul and Zenith, however, was that their bookish, seemingly docile second son was actually so determined and strong-willed.
Most people wouldn't know how hard Wood had been working, but Paul, being an experienced swordsman himself, could tell just by looking at the thickness of the calluses on Wood's hands. The boy had been training rigorously.
Such thick calluses couldn't be the result of just a few months of practice. It would take at least a year or more of consistent training to develop hands like that.
And yet, Wood was still just a child. Paul knew firsthand how dull and grueling early sword training could be, but this young boy had endured it all, never once complaining or asking for help from his family.
"Lilia, how much did you teach Wood? What level has he reached?" Paul asked, turning to Lilia, who had been watching from the sidelines.
Paul couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Perhaps his son would one day surpass him and become a top swordsman in the kingdom.
"I'm not exactly sure how far he's progressed," Lilia replied. "But what I do know is that he learned everything I taught him in just a few short months.
"Since then, he's been training on his own. But there's one thing I'm certain of: Wood is exceptionally talented. Far more talented than anyone I've ever met—including the nobles I served back in the Asura Kingdom, and even you, Lord Paul."
Paul blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected Lilia to praise Wood so highly.
Of course, Paul was proud that his son was so talented, but when Lilia suggested that Wood's potential far exceeded his own, he couldn't help but feel a little competitive.
"Well then, Wood," Paul said, standing tall. "Since you've already mastered the basics, it looks like regular training isn't enough for you anymore.
"Take up your wooden sword and attack me. I want to see your current level so I can adjust your training accordingly."
Before Wood could respond, Zenith jumped to his defense, voicing her protest.
"You can't be serious, Paul! He's just a five-year-old boy! You're an advanced swordsman and a former S-rank adventurer! This is completely unfair!"
"If that's the case, I'll join in as well," Zenith declared, drawing the magic wand she always carried at her side. She was clearly ready to enforce her point through "family justice."
"Mother," Wood intervened, his voice calm and respectful. "Father only wants to test my abilities, and I'd like to know how much I've improved as well.
"Every fledgling must eventually learn to fly on their own. I can't be under your protection forever, can I?" he said with a gentle smile.
Both his manners and his words were impeccable, leaving Zenith with no choice but to sigh and step back.
As she moved to stand by Lilia, Zenith gave the maid a deep bow.
In this medieval society, such a gesture from a noblewoman to a servant was a significant sign of gratitude.
"Lilia, I truly can't thank you enough. You've raised Wood so wonderfully."
*******
P/S: If you are interested, you can read up to chapter 380+ at p@treon.com/Betek and change @ to a
power stone????