The entire training ground fell into an eerie silence. The moment the cloth slipped from Sylvaine's face, revealing her true identity, time seemed to halt.
Leonhardt blinked, stunned. Her sharp, piercing black eyes locked onto his, filled with shock and fury. Even Alistair, Garrick, and Reiner—her own teammates—were dumbfounded.
"You're a... woman?" Reiner muttered, unable to mask his disbelief.
Sylvaine's face turned visibly red, whether out of embarrassment or frustration, Leonhardt couldn't tell. Quickly, she snatched the cloth from the ground and wrapped it back around her face, her fingers trembling slightly.
"You…!" Sylvaine hissed, gripping her sword tightly, pure rage emanating from her. Without hesitation, she lunged toward Leonhardt, intent on striking him down.
But before she could make another move, a hand caught her wrist mid-air—firm and unyielding.
Captain Muller.
"Enough," his voice was low yet commanding.
Sylvaine immediately froze, as if she had been doused with cold water. Her grip loosened, and with a sharp inhale, she took a step back, lowering her head in submission.
Leonhardt narrowed his eyes. The way she instinctively obeyed Muller, how she instantly withdrew from battle—this wasn't just the discipline of a subordinate to her superior. There was something more.
But now wasn't the time to question it.
---
Acknowledgment from the Strongest
The training session ended shortly after, but Leonhardt could still feel the tension lingering in the air. As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, Garrick and Reiner approached him.
"That was reckless," Garrick commented, arms crossed. His towering frame cast a shadow over Leonhardt. "But you've got guts, kid."
"Yeah, not many would dare accept a duel against Sylvaine," Reiner added with a smirk. "She's... well, you saw for yourself."
Leonhardt remained silent for a moment, then exhaled. "I just want to get stronger." His fingers curled slightly, as if gripping an invisible sword.
Reiner raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I want you two to train me," Leonhardt said firmly, looking at both of them. "I need to master the way of the knight's swordplay—your techniques."
Garrick and Reiner exchanged glances. Then, they both chuckled.
"You sure? This ain't just swinging a sword," Garrick said. "Knight swordsmanship requires patience, discipline, and strength."
"And a lot of pain," Reiner added.
Leonhardt simply nodded. "I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes."
Reiner grinned. "Then you're in for hell, Leonhardt."
---
From that day onward, Leonhardt's training intensified.
Every morning, before the sun even rose, he was already awake—his body drenched in sweat as he pushed himself beyond his limits. Physical conditioning, endurance drills, and relentless sword training—he did it all without complaint.
Under Reiner and Garrick's guidance, he learned the knight's swordplay, refining his techniques to achieve precision and power.
Even when Sylvaine threw more difficult challenges at him out of sheer spite, he never backed down.
During every free moment, he sought out Captain Muller, training in hand-to-hand combat, learning how to fight even without a weapon.
And despite her initial hostility, Sylvaine began to notice something.
Leonhardt was different.
He wasn't just some reckless fool trying to prove himself. He was driven. Determined. Unyielding.
Even she had to admit—he was improving.
---
Days turned into weeks. His movements became sharper, his reflexes quicker, his strikes more precise.
Yet, he knew—this was just the beginning.
One evening, after an exhausting day of training, he stood alone, gripping his sword tightly. The setting sun cast long shadows, painting the ground in hues of orange and crimson.
He wasn't just fighting to survive anymore.
He was fighting to become someone stronger.
Someone worthy.
And soon, the first real test would come.
Chapter 5 – The Hidden Heir (Part 2)
The Knight's Manor
The grand estate of Captain Muller stood tall, a symbol of prestige and power. Unlike the rigid stone barracks or the bustling training grounds, this place exuded nobility, its vast halls and towering pillars reflecting the wealth and status of its owner.
Leonhardt approached the massive wooden doors, knocking firmly.
After a brief moment, the doors creaked open, revealing a distinguished-looking butler. The man bowed slightly, his posture refined and formal.
"You must be Sir Leonhardt. Captain Muller has been expecting you," the butler said in a smooth tone.
Leonhardt simply nodded, following the butler as he led him through the mansion's grand corridors. Luxurious chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow on the intricate carpet beneath their feet.
After a few turns, they finally stopped in front of a large study room, the scent of parchment and ink seeping from within.
The butler raised his hand, about to knock—
But then, Leonhardt felt it.
A presence. Someone was watching him.
He immediately turned his head, eyes narrowing as he focused on a nearby door. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but he was sure of it—someone was in that room.
Without hesitation, he stepped towards the door, his hand hovering over the handle—
But in an instant, the presence vanished.
Leonhardt frowned. Whoever was inside was skilled.
"That room…" he muttered. "Who stays there?"
The butler blinked before answering, "That is the young lady's quarters—Lady von Nachtmaren."
Leonhardt nodded, filing the name away in his mind.
So, Captain Muller has a daughter…?
What he didn't know, however, was that he had just unknowingly brushed past Sylvaine's hidden identity.
---
Perspective Shift: Sylvaine von Nachtmaren
Inside the lavish bedroom, Sylvaine's heartbeat raced.
She pressed her back against the wall, her breathing shallow. That was too close.
Leonhardt… he almost caught her.
Her normally calm, composed self had nearly shattered when he turned towards her door. If he had stepped in even a second earlier, he would have seen her real self.
Here, in the comfort of her home, she was no longer the cold, ruthless assassin of the battlefield.
She was Lady Sylvaine von Nachtmaren—the noble daughter of Captain Muller, dressed in elegant silken robes, her jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders in soft waves.
She looked nothing like the feared assassin from the training grounds.
And she intended to keep it that way.
Her grip on the edge of her dress tightened as she replayed the moment in her mind.
"He sensed me… again."
First, he had unmasked her during their duel. Now, he had nearly uncovered her true identity.
Her face flushed red—not out of anger, but out of sheer frustration and embarrassment.
"Tsk. What is with this guy…?"
She needed to be more careful.
With a deep breath, she straightened her posture and recomposed herself, masking her emotions as she always did.
---
The Blacksmith's Request
Leonhardt finally stepped into Captain Muller's study.
The room was lined with towering bookshelves, maps of battlefields scattered across the large wooden desk. Behind it, Captain Muller sat comfortably, sipping a cup of tea.
"Ah, Leonhardt," the veteran knight greeted with an amused grin. "What brings you here?"
Leonhardt placed a folded piece of parchment on the desk.
"I need a blacksmith," he said.
Muller raised an eyebrow, unfolding the paper. His expression shifted slightly as he examined the rough sketch drawn on it.
A single-edged sword. Slightly curved upwards, refined yet simple in structure.
Muller studied it for a few moments before suddenly chuckling.
"Heh… I figured as much," he said, shaking his head.
Leonhardt's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"
Muller leaned back in his chair, his smirk never fading.
"Leonhardt, tell me… who are you, really?"
The room fell into silence.
Leonhardt froze.
For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt a cold chill creep down his spine.
Did Muller know?
Can Haruto keep his identity hidden?
TO BE CONTINUED.....
End of Chapter 5.