Chapter 6: The Fine Line Between Genius and Lunatic

Life at House Roy has settled into a familiar rhythm. 

 Breakfast. Training. "Accidental" demonstrations of skill. More training. A bit of light research. Then, the part where I actually got things done—stopping time and grinding like a lunatic. 

 At this moment, my talents were improving at an incredible pace. 

 I could now carry a sword properly without it looking like I was a baby trying to swat a fly. My footwork? Clean. My reaction time? Ridiculous. 

 But the true prize? 

 Mana control. 

 It had been slow at first—agonizingly so. But after hundreds of hours in frozen time, I had reached the stage where I could literally transport mana throughout my body at will. 

 Not cast magic, mind you. That was yet a ways off. 

 But I could now make my mana circulate efficiently, which meant when the time came for genuine training, I'd completely crush everyone in terms of growth pace. 

 The best part? No one suspected a thing. 

 If I exhibited too much skill too fast, people might get suspicious. But since I was pacing myself correctly, everyone just believed I was a youngster with "natural talent." 

 And that's how I almost got myself into trouble. 

 It happened during one of my training sessions with Sarin. 

 We were sparring in the courtyard, the normal back-and-forth. I let him "win" most of the exchanges, but periodically, I'd slip in a minor victory—just enough to keep up my "gifted but still beatable" image. 

 This time, however, I got too into it. 

 Sarin swung his wooden blade in a predictable downward slash. 

 I ducked. Too smoothly. Too perfectly. 

 Then, just out of habit, I twisted my body and retaliated with a crisp strike to his ribs. 

 Thwack. 

 Sarin staggered back, eyes wide. "The hell was that?!" 

 I froze. Ah, crap. 

 I had reacted too fast. That wasn't the kind of maneuver a six-year-old should've been able to pull off—especially not one who was meant to be "just starting" his training. 

 Think, think, think. 

 I twisted my face into an innocent expression. "Uh… lucky hit?" 

 Sarin narrowed his eyes. "Lucky my ass. That was an actual procedure. Who's been training you?" 

 I gulped. "Um…" 

 Before I could come up with an apology, a new voice cut in. 

 "My, my. It seems we have a prodigy in the family." 

 I turned. 

 Standing on the training ground's stone steps was a tall, imposing guy with long dark hair, a beautifully kept beard, and the atmosphere of someone who was clearly important. 

 Lord Varun Roy. 

 My father. 

 And judging by the look on his face, he was very, very interested in what he had just seen. 

 Oh no. 

 I stood up, trying my best to look like a fully normal six-year-old who clearly hadn't been grinding combat training for weeks within frozen time. 

 "…Father," I greeted, bowing gently. 

 Sarin took a step back, peering between us. "You saw that, right? That was hardly beginner-level." 

 Father hummed in thought. "Indeed. Your moves were way too refined." 

 Crap. Crap. Crap. 

 I needed a cover narrative. Fast. 

 "I, uh… I've been watching the knights train?" I blurted out. "And copying their movements?" 

 Silence. 

 Sarin blinked. "Wait, that actually makes sense." 

 Huh? 

 Father scratched his beard, nodding. "Observational learning… an impressive trait, if true." 

 I internally sighed in relief. That was way too near. 

 But then— 

 Father's eyes sharpened. "If that's the case… then prove it." 

 "…What?" 

 "From today onward, you will train under me personally." 

 Oh no. 

 This was exactly the kind of attention I was hoping to avoid. 

 Sarin let out a wheeze of laughter. "Oh, you're screwed." 

 I smiled stiffly. "Hahaha… yay?" 

 I was going to see firsthand what type of torture the former commander of the empire's army could put his kid through. 

 I had made a terrible mistake.