Ch-06 First Training.

Ignis carefully returned the Hōgyoku to its place, phasing it back into the heart of his soul. He was always meticulous, cautious in everything he did.

From the very beginning, Ignis had avoided exposing the Hōgyoku to anyone. At first, he hadn't known whether the people of this world could see it. That uncertainty had lingered until one day when his mother mentioned that ghosts could be seen by those who could use Mana, such as Knights and Magicians. Ordinary people, however—those without the ability to wield Mana—could not perceive such things.

Even so, the question of whether Magicians or Knights could harm a soul lingered in his mind. When he had once asked his mother about it, she had deflected with a gentle smile, saying, "You're too young to worry about such things."

With a quiet sigh, Ignis stood up, shaking off his thoughts. He made his way to the training ground of the mansion, eager to begin. The expansive field bustled with activity as a few Knights sparred under the guidance of Tristan, a very close subordinate of his father.

As Ignis approached, Tristan noticed him and quickly walked over, his expression a mix of curiosity and respect. "Young Lord," he greeted with a slight bow. "What brings you here? Is there something you need?"

Ignis stood tall, meeting the Knight's gaze with calm determination. "I'm here to train," he said firmly. "Until now, Father and Mother wouldn't allow me to practice swordsmanship because I wasn't yet six. But now that I've reached the age, I've come to begin."

Tristan's brows lifted in surprise. "Does Lord Evan know about this?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Ignis admitted, his tone steady. "But I don't think he would object now."

Tristan hesitated, the weight of his duty evident in his furrowed brow. "I'm very sorry, Young Lord," he said after a moment. "But without the Lord's explicit permission, I cannot allow you to train. My orders are clear."

Tristan's loyalty to his father was admirable, but it was also an obstacle Ignis hadn't anticipated.

Irritation flickered across Ignis's face as he snapped, "If you need permission, go and ask my father. But I'm going to practice, and no one can stop me."

Tristan hesitated, caught between his duty and the fiery determination in the young Lord's voice. Ignis's anger left him with little choice. Reluctantly, he stepped aside, allowing the boy to proceed. Still, he sent one of the training Knights to inform Lord Evan, the Grand Knight, of the situation.

As Ignis walked to the weapon rack, his eyes scanned the array of swords. Tristan approached cautiously, his voice deferential. "Young Lord, I will guide you during your practice."

Ignis didn't even turn to face him. "No need," he said coolly. "I can practice on my own. I've watched you train the Knights countless times. I know the basics."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ignis's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. What a joke, he thought. Who am I? I am Yamamoto Genryūsai, the master swordsman of the Seireitei and the strongest swordsman in the Soul Society. Do I need someone to teach me the basics of swordsmanship?

Of course, there was one thing he couldn't ignore. While his knowledge and experience were unparalleled, this body—a child's body—was still untrained. His muscle memory hadn't yet been forged, and because of that, he would need to start from the fundamentals.

Ignis reached for a training sword, its weight light in his hands. This is just the beginning, he thought. The basics of swordsmanship here aren't too different from what I know. Practicing them will allow me to rebuild my skills without drawing unnecessary attention.

 Tristan felt a twinge of irritation as he returned to his position. While he respected the young Lord, Ignis's dismissive attitude stung. After all, Tristan wasn't just anyone—he was a respected and powerful 3-Star Knight, one of the finest in Ravenwood County.

Still, he reminded himself of his duty. He resumed guiding the trainee Knights but couldn't help glancing at Ignis from time to time, ensuring the boy didn't hurt himself in his unapproved practice.

Ignis stood in the center of the training ground, gripping a sword firmly in both hands. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath, and then assumed a flawless stance. With a sharp inhale, he began.

The first swing came clean and precise—a vertical cut delivered with all his strength. He repeated the motion, each strike carrying the same intensity and focus, until he completed ten consecutive vertical cuts. Without pausing, Ignis transitioned to horizontal thrusts, driving the blade forward with deliberate force. Ten thrusts later, he shifted to horizontal slashes, then diagonal cuts, each performed ten times with unwavering commitment.

By the time he finished, Ignis's chest rose and fell heavily, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. His hands trembled faintly from the exertion, but his expression remained resolute.

"My current body is too weak," he muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the hilt. "But don't worry. I'll adapt. I'll make this body as strong as the one I had in my previous life. Stronger, even."

Not far away, Tristan watched in stunned silence. At first, Ignis's movements had been slightly off—a minor flaw that anyone new to swordsmanship would exhibit. But even that was remarkable for a boy who had just picked up a sword for the first time.

As the practice progressed, Tristan realized something extraordinary. Ignis's adjustments were swift and instinctive, and his progress was undeniable. By the end, the young Lord's technique was solid enough that he could likely hold his own in a basic sparring match after just a few more days of practice.

Tristan's eyes narrowed as he muttered under his breath, "Such a genius. When Lord Evan learns that the young Lord is an innate Knight prodigy, he'll be overjoyed."

For the first time in a long while, Tristan felt genuine excitement. Ignis wasn't just an exceptional talent—he might be something far more extraordinary.

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