Reincarnated User Manual

Anyone who had been knighted inevitably heard the name Hugo Prient at least once. This might even have been true for common thugs and third-rate swordsmen.

Incredible strength that was hard to believe was human.

A sword aura that leaped dozens of meters.

As combat manuals evolved, knights learned basic magic, but Hugo excelled on the battlefield without using any magic at all. Therefore, aside from those who solely believed in fundamental swordsmanship, he was widely respected by many swordsmen.

‘I do like him.’

Moreover, the admiration for Hugo was not solely due to his martial prowess.

A person who seemed to embody chivalry.

Perhaps because he was Glen’s brother? Hugo never used his strength to dominate others.

He always fought at the forefront and never ignored comrades in danger. Even excluding indirect situations, thousands owed their lives to Hugo, so many considered it an honor to fight alongside him.

But shining eras couldn’t last forever.

Great people were envied and resented in any era. That was a truth wherever people lived.

Thus,

Shiron knew well that there were many who awaited Hugo’s decline.

Shiron felt a faint longing at Hugo’s offer to join the expedition.

“…May I have some time to think?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Hugo nodded briefly.

An expedition. Knowing how arduous it would be, Hugo didn’t expect an immediate acceptance from Shiron. Thus, he decided to close his eyes and lean back in his chair while his young nephew pondered.

But Shiron’s answer came surprisingly quickly.

“I will do it.”

“Are you sure you’ve thought it through?”

“Why not? I’ve always wanted to work alongside my uncle.”

“Hmm…”

‘I thought he would refuse at first…’

Hugo scratched his cheek awkwardly. He was happy that Shiron agreed to come but worried if he was unfairly pressuring his nephew.

“Are you really okay with this?”

Hugo looked at Shiron with a taste of bitterness in his mouth.

“Expeditions are hard. Many get hurt, many die. And once it starts, there’s no turning back.”

“Who wouldn’t know that?”

“I worry because I know it well.”

“It’s good that you’re worried. I would’ve been disappointed if you weren’t.”

Shiron flipped through the papers in front of him.

Salaries, bonuses, treatment – trivial matters were listed.

“Or, were you testing me?”

“…”

“Why do you keep scaring me? Do you want me to refuse your offer?”

“If I said I had no such thoughts, it would be a lie.”

Hugo sighed deeply. Wrinkles, not there five years ago, now marked his face.

“After returning from the last expedition, I pondered a lot. Whether it was too much to ask of you, still not fully grown. Whether it was shameless of me.”

“May I ask a few questions?”

Shiron raised his hand as if to stop Hugo. He didn’t quite understand Hugo’s heavy heart, but it seemed the conversation would keep circling otherwise.

After seeing Hugo nod, Shiron continued.

“I understand you feel sorry for me. And from what I’ve heard, the situation of the expedition seems dire.”

Shiron lifted his gaze from the teacup.

“Are you so short on people that you need to ask for my help?”

“It’s my own fault.”

Hugo lowered his gaze in front of his nephew. In his unconfident demeanor, Shiron sensed several underlying issues.

Hugo, who was not good with words.

Hugo, indifferent to the struggle for the crown prince’s succession.

The military discipline of the nation had loosened, and was relying too much on Hugo alone.

Combining all these factors, Shiron reached a conclusion.

Intentional restraint.

Some bastards wished for Hugo’s downfall.

‘Damn them.’

Shiron took a deep breath.

He was aware and had prepared inwardly, but he couldn’t calmly observe the situation.

Even though everyone south of the mountains, every citizen of the empire, owed Hugo, there were still those hastening his demise, threatening to break the interlocked gears.

He had dealt with two apostles and previously eliminated the potential threat of the second prince. The emergence of these hindrances left him suffocating, his blood boiling in frustration.

Shiron yanked out a pen and decisively signed the paper before him.

“…You don’t need to worry. I’d rather ask you for a favor.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll excuse myself now.”

Leaving the office, Shiron pulled out an old notebook.

The mansion’s training ground was a practice room surrounded by black stone walls.

Lucia lay sprawled, soaked in sweat.

Using Sirius as a catalyst, she had depleted the mana in her core and refilled it hundreds of times with the room’s mana.

It was an exhausting method of training, not recommended to others, but it was unmatched in increasing one’s core capacity.

Already drenched, Lucia used her fifth towel to wipe her face.

An already used towel was fine. She had sweated out all impurities from her body, so although the towel was soaked, it didn’t smell unpleasant.

“Sigh.”

After tidying her face, Lucia slowly stood up. Then,

She turned her gaze to Sirius, clenched in her hand.

‘What kind of sword is this?’

Her look at Sirius was fraught with complexity.

Was it the material? Or was it Atmos’ craftsmanship? The overwhelming mana conductivity of Sirius astonished Lucia.

She blinked at the sword’s brilliant radiance. She had wielded many swords in her past life, but Sirius was comparable to a holy sword.

‘No, it’s better than that damned holy sword.’

Confident in her judgment, her preference for Sirius over the holy sword was mostly emotional.

The holy sword was a symbol of the hero. Kyrie, the hero, had been miserably unhappy. The moment she was hailed as a hero by others, her life descended into a pit. Thus, it was inevitable for Lucia to feel almost a sense of aversion toward the holy sword.

She had to kill those she didn’t want to kill, and under physically and mentally exhausting circumstances, the holy sword pushed Kyrie to the brink.

But Sirius was different.

It was a sword whose birth she had witnessed.

The third sword she had received as a gift.

Looking at Sirius filled her heart with happiness.

And most importantly, the name Sirius was the same as her technique’s name in a fairy tale.

‘This is destiny!’

Remembering the contents of the fairy tale, Lucia raised the brilliant sword with both hands. She ensured no one was around and quietly said,

“Cry out, Sirius.”

Whoosh—

Responding to Lucia’s call, Sirius began to emit a brilliant radiance. The dark practice room filled with light, and pure energy burst from the tip of the sword.

It was magnificent.

Sirius was the embodiment of magnificence in sword form.

Lucia felt a contradiction. She didn’t want to be a hero, yet she didn’t dislike the idea of herself as a hero, slashing evil and saving the world. In fact, she rather liked it.

Lucia’s past life as Kyrie had become a secret she must carry for life, but sometimes she felt the urge to shout out her technique’s name for a change of mood.

Lucia giggled for a moment, then swung her sword in various postures, shouting,

“Cry out, Sirius.”

Whoosh—

“Cry out, Sirius.”

Whoa—

“Cry out…”

…but as she was about to continue, Lucia couldn’t. A tingling sensation of being watched from behind made a cold sweat trickle down her back.

“What are you doing?”

“…”

The sudden voice from behind startled her. Lucia slowly turned her head toward the sound. There, Shiron stood with narrowed eyes, staring at her.

“Uh… that… something…”

Lucia couldn’t say anything to Shiron, who had suddenly appeared. She just stammered, her face turning red, dripping with sweat.

Watching Lucia, Shiron sighed deeply.

Lucia sometimes acted like a fool. Though she was a reincarnated person, watching her engage in such silly and childish antics made him want to tease and torment her. However, he wasn’t in the mood because of Hugo’s situation.

Shiron decided to ignore her foolishness.

“Were you practicing magic incantations?”

“…Yeah, that’s right. The break is almost over, isn’t it? To keep up with the class, I need to do thorough preparation and review.”

“Really? Then you must be busy, right?”

“Why do you ask?”

It was an obvious lure.

Lucia pressed herself against the wall of the practice room. Even though there was no odor to her sweat after expelling all waste, she felt somewhat embarrassed.

Shiron stopped his retreating footsteps and turned around.

“I was looking for a partner for the court banquet, but you seem busy.”

Actually, he needed an escort in case of any mishap.

“I was considering going with Seira.”

“Oh no, I’m not that busy.”

Lucia rolled her eyes and scratched her cheek.

“Are you saying you’ll go?”

“…Yes.”

Was it because he mentioned Seira’s name? Despite her bad memories of the court banquet, Lucia found herself accepting Shiron’s invitation.

Meanwhile, Seira encountered an unexpected visitor.

Believing herself cursed and almost forgotten, she thought no visitor would recognize her. Yet the guest at the door of her annex called her by name correctly.

“Miss Siriel.”

“You can call me more casually.”

Seira couldn’t settle her nerves at Siriel’s suggestion. Shiron had scolded her several times, and Seira was well aware of her misdeeds toward the younger Siriel.

“No matter what…”

“It’s okay. You already know, and have come to see me.”

Siriel smiled at the magician whom she had seen in her dreams.