I Was Reincarnated As The Brother Of A Villainous Young Lady, But I Couldn't Use Magic, So I Used My Sword To Slash Down The Doom Flag - Chapter 5

My name’s Garland Ranger—a minor noble from the Ranger Barony, ruling over a tiny village in the sticks. Normally, as a noble—even a minor one—you’re supposed to have some muscle, but I’ve got none. And yet, somehow, I ended up a baron.

I can’t use magic, and while I picked up a bit of swordsmanship, my teacher practically told me to quit because I had zero talent. So how’d I get the title? Simple: I somehow “earned” it on the battlefield.

No, seriously—I’m not making this up. It wasn’t for any heroic combat, but more for, uh, “soothing” wounded spirits. I joined a dungeon raid on a magic beast’s nest purely for the cash, and when things almost fell apart and morale was about to collapse, I managed to turn it around with some flashy sword tricks and a few sleight-of-hand moves.

Because of that, I earned the dubious nickname “Banquet Sword Saint.” At a victory celebration, a marquis even handed me a noble title. They’d just set up some new land and couldn’t decide who to put in charge, so I got lucky.

At first, I was nervous about all this, but once I spiced up my backstory into a bit of a heroic tale, I started attracting a ton of ladies. Of course, I’m not doing that now—if I pulled that crap again, my wife, Mira, would probably kill me. Heck, I’m even suspected of cheating every time I step out. Youthful mistakes, huh? They sure leave a long tail.

And thanks to all that, even Tilti—whom I took in out of pure goodwill—got pegged as my secret child. They say we don’t even look alike!

Well, forget the past. When we first brought Tilti home, I was worried about whether she’d fit in here. But my kid, Sold—who’s around my age—seemed to handle things just fine. Within a month, he started sticking to her like glue.

I do worry a bit that he’s getting too dependent, but hey, he’s started smiling more lately, and considering the hell they were in when he was rescued, I can’t really blame him. That’s one challenge for the future.

But there’s something else I can’t ignore—more than Tilti, I’ve got a real problem with my own flesh and blood. Yep, my real son… Sold is something else.

“Dad—uh, I mean, Master—I’ve finally got my iai slash looking decent! Come check it out!”

“Oh? Alright then, show me what you got.”

About two months after we took Tilti in, Sold suddenly announced that to me. Now, I only knew the absolute basics of swordsmanship—I’d been making a bit of an “ice slash” trick at banquets—but I’d mostly told him to keep practicing the fundamentals. It seems he was getting tired of my constant “keep practicing” lectures and wanted some praise.

I joked, “You think I’ll just hand out compliments that easily? I’m pretty tough when it comes to swords, you know.”
Even though I said that, inside I was ready to cheer him on no matter how clumsy his moves were.

Sold’s only seven, and his dream to get strong for his new little sister is admirable. But the kid’s got no magic talent, so the only hope for him is to work hard on his sword skills. Maybe he even has some raw talent I don’t have—maybe one day he’ll get scouted by the town guard if not a full knight.

I grinned as I watched him take up his wooden practice sword and face a log in the backyard.
“Keep watching, alright?”
“I got it, I got it!”

I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d improved in these past two months. Then suddenly—

“…Haa!!”

With a burst of energy that sounded like his very soul splitting, a gust of wind swept through the backyard. I stood there, mouth agape, as the log was cleanly sliced and thudded onto the ground.

“Wha—what the heck?!”

I couldn’t figure out what had just happened. Did he really cut the log with his wooden sword? For real?!

Sold frowned and said, “That reaction… It just shows you’re still far from perfect. I knew it already.”

I walked over to inspect the cut log, half-expecting some trick or hidden mechanism. But after all these years on this path, I found nothing amiss. I was confused as heck.

Sold then asked, “Compared to the ‘Ice Wolf Flash’ move you showed me, the cut here is still a bit rough. And no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get the frost to cling to my slash… Is there some kind of trick to it?”

If there was, I’d be the first to ask.

I chuckled, “Heh, you’ve grown a lot, Sold—I hardly recognize you. But yeah, you’re still a bit raw.”
I wasn’t sure what I was saying—I was putting on a front, trying to hide the fact that my own half-baked sword skills were nothing compared to what I expected him to learn.

Damn it, my own son’s a genius. I should be proud, but if I keep covering up my fake sword techniques, it’ll all come out sooner or later. I always thought I could keep up the act until Sold was old enough to attend a proper sword dojo.

So what now? I had to figure this out.

I advised, “Sold, you’re still relying way too much on your eyes. You need to listen to the ‘voice of your sword’—tune in with all your senses and feel the energy around you.”

He asked, “How do I do that?”

I continued, “Try training blindfolded. If you can go about your daily routine with a blindfold on, you’ll naturally ascend to the next level.”

I realized, as soon as the words came out, how ridiculous that sounded. “Voice of the sword” and “feel the energy” while blindfolded? That’s not exactly using your senses—you’re practically throwing out your vision. But my son, so pure and unspoiled, just nodded along without a hitch.

“Alright, I got it. I’ll do my best, Master!”

“Good. Keep at it.”

I was screaming inside, “Of course I know!” but by then, I couldn’t exactly admit that everything I’d been saying was a bunch of crap. Later on, when I actually caught Sold training blindfolded around the house, I got chewed out by Mira for my ridiculous methods.

Well, Sold managed to get used to the blindfold life in just about a week, strolling around the house like it was the most natural thing ever.

…Wait a minute. Isn’t my son just a little too brilliant?