fragile teacher

Alex, wake up. Your tutor is waiting," his mother's voice pierced through the quiet morning, carrying both urgency and concern.

Alex groaned, rubbing his temples. "Ah, my head still hurts. I wonder when I'll ever get used to this," he muttered to himself. After washing up, he made his way to the training grounds, brushing away his lingering exhaustion.

From the balcony, his mother watched him with a gentle smile, though her eyes betrayed her worry.

At the training grounds, Alex encountered a man standing with a sword in hand—a frail-looking knight who radiated no cultivation whatsoever.

Alex laughed involuntarily, unable to stifle his amusement at the sight of such an "ordinary" individual. The knight frowned but dared not rebuke him, bound by the unspoken rules of rank and status.

The knight bowed stiffly. "Second Prince, my name is Lars. From today onward, I will be teaching you swordsmanship and basic magic control. I will serve as your instructor for the next three months."

Alex observed him with a smirk. "A mere ordinary knight teaching me swordsmanship? Fine, Lars, show me what you've got."

Lars began his demonstration, calling it the Aldir Clan's Legendary Sword Form. To Alex, however, it resembled the awkward movements of a street performer commanding a whip. Two steps forward, two steps back, swing, thrust—over and over, Lars repeated the motions. His left side was exposed, and swings lacked weight and balance.

Suppressing a yawn, Alex mimicked the movements, his boredom growing by the second. But as he followed Lars's "technique," he unconsciously began improvising. The routine evolved under his practised hands, transforming into something precise and fluid, an art far superior to the original.

Lars stopped mid-demonstration, his mouth agape. "How… how did you—Second Prince, who taught you this?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Taught me? This was all your 'brilliant technique,' Lars. I merely followed your lead."

Lars stared in disbelief, his face shifting between awe and despair. The second prince, a twelve-year-old boy, had just mastered in moments what had taken him years of toil. Worse yet, Alex had refined the form into something Lars couldn't begin to replicate.

Overcome, Lars dropped his sword and sprinted toward the royal hall, shouting, "Prodigy! The Second Prince is a prodigy!"

From her perch on the balcony, Alex's mother saw the knight running and frowned. Worried, she descended to the training ground. "Alex, what happened? Why did Sir Lars leave so suddenly?"

Alex said with heavy disappointment. "He called me a prodigy and bolted. That's all."

Her brows tilled, but Alex offered no further explanation.

Royal Hall

Lars barged past the royal guards, his urgency overcoming his fear. Though stopped momentarily, his insistence eventually led him into the royal chamber, where the warlords, General Viscal, and the king himself were gathered.

The aura in the room was suffocating, especially General Viscal's piercing gaze. Lars trembled as he approached, barely able to form words.

Viscal stood and addressed the king. "Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. I will discipline my knight for this disturbance."

The king raised a hand. "Let him speak."

Lars bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, the Second Prince is a prodigy. He mastered the Aldir Clan's sword technique after seeing it only once—and even created an improved version of it on the spot."

The warlords exchanged sceptical glances. Prime Minister Orcas, a portly man with calculating eyes, chuckled dismissively. "Surely, this is the rambling of a drunken fool. Your Majesty, I suggest we execute him for wasting the court's time."

The king's gaze darkened. "Orcas, hold your tongue, or I'll execute you myself."

Startled, Orcas fell to his knees, his large frame shaking. "F-Forgive me, Your Majesty. I only meant to propose a way to verify this claim. Why not test the Second Prince in a duel? As an apology, I'll arrange for a two-star knight to spar with him."

The king, though aware of Orcas's scheming nature, nodded. "Very well. Arrange the duel."

Lars paled. "Your Majesty, a two-star knight is too much for the prince. Please reconsider."

Orcas smirked. "Weren't you the one who called him a prodigy? Shouldn't we confirm it?"

Despite his protests, Lars could do nothing as the king declared, "You have one month to prepare him. Fail, and I will exile you."

Training Hall – The Next Morning

Alex arrived early to find Lars slumped on a stool, his face a mask of worry.

"Good morning, Lars," Alex greeted. "You look like someone who's just seen a ghost."

Lars stood and hesitated before saying, "Second Prince, I must tell you everything that happened in the royal hall. Promise me you won't kill me for my foolishness."

Alex's smile sharpened. "Speak, Lars."

After hearing the full story, Alex remained calm, though inwardly furious. "You idiot. You've just handed Orcas the perfect chance to kill me."

Lars bowed deeply. "I'm so sorry, my prince. Please, forfeit the duel. I'll accept exile I am an orphan I don't have anyone either in this kingdom and—it's better than risking your life." 

Alex smirked. "You really think I'm fighting for your sake? Listen closely, Lars. Don't ever bring up that 'orphan' nonsense again, or I'll beat you senseless. Now, let's train."

In the following days,

Alex woke up at dawn every day, the faint orange hue of the rising sun peeking through his chamber windows. He had developed a routine: meditation to refine his qi, basic sword practice to build his muscle memory, and studying to understand this unfamiliar world.

The mornings always started with his mother. She would greet him with a soft, warm smile as she gently ruffled his hair. Though Alex felt her worry lingering beneath the surface, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth in her presence.

"Alex, don't push yourself too hard," she would say, handing him a plate of fresh fruit. "You're still growing, and you need rest too."

He didn't respond much, but his sly grin made her smile. "I'll be fine, Mother. Besides, I need to be strong if I'm going to protect you." His words were half-hearted, but her cheeks flushed with pride.

Her kind gestures softened the hardened heart of the heavenly demon residing within this body. It was a feeling Alex wasn't used to, but one he found strangely comforting.

After breakfast, he would head to the training ground to begin his cultivation. Kneeling in the centre of the courtyard, Alex closed his eyes and drew in the world's mana. It felt foreign compared to the qi of Murim, but its similarities allowed him to adapt quickly.

On the third day, Alex pushed his body to its limits. Regular training proved ineffective, so he tapped into his Murim knowledge. Though his new body couldn't handle advanced techniques, the Moon Body Art, a third-rate method from Murim's lower realm, proved suitable.

Also, he discovered something remarkable. Mana of this world approved To be 43 percent similar to qi, Alex managed to enhance the "Moon Body" art from the lower realm. Though it was a crude solution, it allowed him to push his limits without breaking his fragile body.

With each passing day, his control over his qi-grew stronger. His movements became sharper, his strikes more precise. Lars noticed the changes, though he couldn't understand how the second prince had improved so quickly.

By noon, Alex shifted his focus to books and records about the kingdom. He learned about the bustling streets of Leventha, the heart of the human kingdom, and its various districts.

• The Royal District, where noble families vied for power.

• The Merchant's Quarter, where traders from the elf and dwarf kingdoms exchanged rare goods.

• The Outer Slums, a harsh reminder of the disparity between the rich and poor.

Alex also learned of Oxid Academy, the prestigious school his brother attended, renowned for training knights, mages, and scholars. "So this is the goal they've set for me," he muttered one afternoon, flipping through a book about it.

But his studies weren't just academic. Occasionally, he would peek out of his window to observe the lives of the people below. The laughter of children playing in the streets, the vendors shouting out their wares, and the knights patrolling with discipline

painted a vivid picture of the kingdom he was meant to serve—or rule.

Every evening, Alex would spend time with his mother. She had a habit of visiting his room, bringing small treats or reading to him from old storybooks.

One night, she sat on the edge of his bed, her golden hair glowing in the dim candlelight. "You've been working so hard lately," she said, her voice filled with pride. "I've never seen you like this before. It makes me so happy."

Alex looked at her and saw the genuine love in her eyes. For a moment, the walls he'd built around his heart cracked. "I want to make you proud, Mother," he said softly.

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "You already have, my little star."

These quiet moments became the highlight of his day, a rare reprieve from the weight of his new reality. He still harboured resentment toward this body's father and the nobles who scorned him, but his mother's kindness reminded him that there was still something worth protecting in this world.

Preparation for the Duel

As the week progressed, Alex's focus shifted to the looming duel. Lars tried to convince him to forfeit again, but Alex dismissed him with a sharp glare.

"You don't need to worry about me, Lars," he said one morning. "I've already decided—I'll crush whoever they send my way."

Behind his confident words, Alex was preparing meticulously. He combined his knowledge of Murim's techniques with Lars's basic sword lessons, creating a fighting style that was uniquely his own. He also practised controlling his breathing, knowing it would be crucial for maintaining focus during the duel.

The Day of the Duel.