Chapter 40

It's worth noting that Paul, that idiot, ended up making the same mistake as he did in the original story. Should we say it's just like Paul? Even though he promised Zenith he'd settle down and live a good life with her, it's clear now that he still can't rein in his lecherous nature.

So, two winters ago, Paul found himself in a tough spot.

Paul has always been a man full of energy—Roya knew that much.

When Zenith was pregnant with their child, he tried to hold himself back, living a life of restraint and simplicity.

But with Paul's personality, how could he possibly stay that well-behaved forever?

And then, well, there was no "and then."

As expected, the unexpected happened.

That day, watching Paul squirm like he was sitting on pins and needles, Roya couldn't help but want to laugh.

In theory, having multiple wives or concubines isn't an issue in this other world. It's a place reminiscent of medieval Europe—three or four wives? No problem. As long as you've got the strength, you can marry as many as you want.

But Zenith follows the Milis faith. She's a devout believer, adhering strictly to the church's rule of monogamy. Even knowing Paul's nature might one day lead him to break his promise, she still chose to marry him based on his verbal commitment.

This is why Paul has always held a deep affection for Zenith.

Zenith was also aware that Paul and Lilia got along well. She even allowed Lilia to stay in the household as a maid. But when she found out about Paul's infidelity, she was furious.

The situation was complicated, and Roya couldn't say much. It was winter, and if Lilia were sent back to her hometown at that point, she and the child in her womb would face certain death. With no other choice, Roya exchanged a glance with Rudeus. Through a bit of coordinated acting, they managed to pin all the blame on Paul, ensuring Lilia could stay in the house.

Even now, Roya can still picture Paul's stunned and helpless expression. But in the end, it was Paul's own mistake—he had no one to blame but himself.

After that, though, Rudeus's days got rough. Once winter passed, Paul tracked him down with a wicked grin, calling it "training," and put Rudeus through the wringer.

Rudeus groaned endlessly, forced to endure the full brunt of it.

As for Roya, his own skills were solid enough that even if Paul wanted to give him a hard time, it wouldn't be easy.

Over time, Paul gained a clearer sense of Roya's strength.

When Zenith and Lilia's children were born, Paul spent the previous year running around like crazy, utterly overwhelmed.

Because of the Lilia incident, Paul's status in the household plummeted. He became the lowest of the low—practically a doormat.

Time has a way of smoothing things over, though.

Looking at the two soft, adorable little ones, even Zenith's anger began to fade.

She still harbored some resentment toward Paul, but she'd come to see Lilia as part of the family.

Zenith is a kind person. Having a wife like her made Roya wonder what kind of dumb luck Paul had stumbled into.

With two precious babies born, the whole family was wrapped in a joyful atmosphere.

Paul bustled about, and Roya couldn't help but smile.

These were his little sisters now—he was officially a big brother.

Zenith's daughter was named Norn Greyrat, and Lilia's daughter was named Aisha Greyrat. Both were incredibly cute little girls.

Paul had his hands full. For a while, he was busy looking after his two daughters, but he couldn't just neglect Roya and Rudeus either.

After nearly six months of hands-off supervision, he finally found time to properly spar with Roya and Rudeus again.

And that's when Paul's headaches really started.

He knew Roya had talent and always expected he'd leave home one day to explore a wider world.

But he never imagined Roya's progress would be this fast—so fast that even Paul had to use most of his strength to keep up.

And that gap only widened with each sparring session.

At first, Paul used seventy percent of his power, then eighty, and eventually ninety.

Now, he has to throw everything he's got just to hold Roya back.

Though it's been a while since their last match—thanks to the chaos with his daughters—Paul can still tell Roya's getting stronger every day.

Paul's a confident man, sometimes even arrogant. But watching Roya rise step by step, even he has to admit Roya's surpassed him.

So, more than once, Paul's sat down with Zenith, his face full of worry.

"Our son's future shouldn't end here. He deserves a better teacher," he'd said.

He thought he could hold out for a while, but Roya's growth was beyond anything he'd expected.

But who could teach him? Paul didn't know.

Lately, he'd been mulling over a letter from Roxy about a magic academy, and it was giving him a headache.

The magic academy—a gathering place for the world's top talents. But it came with a steep tuition fee. With both Roya and Rudeus being such prodigies, sending just one would be unfair to the other.

And if they didn't go? The family's finances were too tight to afford sending both to the academy at once.

To make matters worse, Rudeus wanted Sylphie to go with him.

Paul's wrinkles have been multiplying lately.

With a sigh, Paul calculated the time. It was assessment day again.

He got up, dressed, grabbed his wooden sword, and headed outside.

The grass was growing, birds were singing, and everything was coming back to life.

It was spring—no summer heat, no winter chill. A gentle breeze brushed past, lifting the hem of Paul's clothes.

Outside, Roya stood quietly by a wooden post. In his right hand, he held a slender sword. On closer inspection, it was clear this wasn't an ordinary wooden sword.

To be precise, it was a custom-made piece. Unlike typical wooden swords, its blade was thinner—three feet long and crafted from wood, so it wasn't sharp.

This sword symbolized the path Roya planned to take in the future.

He intended to focus on speed.

Paul took a deep breath. Honestly, the more they fought, the more unnerved he felt. He was starting to lose track of just how strong his son had become.

Putting on a stern face, Paul said, "Roya, let's start training. Show me what you've got."

Roya was eleven now, still sporting a face as pretty as a doll's.

For some reason, no matter how much he grew, his looks stayed the same. Roya had given up worrying about it.

Years of training had given him a lean, strong build—tall but not scrawny.

As Paul approached, Roya shed his jacket, revealing a fit, toned frame.

Wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, you could faintly make out the lines of his abs.

Paul's smile stiffened. Standing ten meters away, he said, "Let's begin. Swordplay only."

Roya nodded, gripping his wooden sword horizontally in the standard opening stance of the Sword God style.

Paul's expression grew serious as he mirrored the stance.