Kyle's grip tightened around the sword. His movements were slow, deliberate—each swing calculated to test his body's endurance.

It was frustrating to swing his sword and not have the same force follow.

In his past life, he could wield weapons that shattered mountains, move faster than the eye could follow, and withstand attacks that would reduce others to dust.

But now?

Now, after just half an hour of basic swings, his muscles burned, his arms felt like lead, and his legs trembled with exhaustion. His body was pathetic.

Kyle exhaled sharply, lowering the sword. This wasn't working.

His current body was too weak to sustain intense physical training. If he continued forcing himself, he would gain nothing but injuries.

There was a better way.

Kyle closed his eyes, shifting his focus inward. His body might be fragile, but what about his energy?

Power didn't just come from the flesh—it came from within.

His past self had wielded a force that defied the heavens. If even a sliver of that energy still remained within him, he needed to find it, harness it, and strengthen his body from the inside out.

Sitting cross-legged on the practice grounds, Kyle began to focus on his energy flow.

At first, he felt nothing.

But then—a flicker.

A faint, dormant pulse deep within his core. Weak. Fragile. But present.

Kyle smirked.

'So, I still have something left. This should be enough to start building a new foundation.'

Carefully, he began to circulate the energy through his body. He controlled the flow, sending it through his muscles, his bones, his veins.

It was like stretching a long-forgotten limb—uncomfortable but exhilarating.

The energy was unstable. His body wasn't used to it. But that was fine. He would force it to adapt.

Hours passed.

Kyle remained in deep focus, channeling his energy, preparing his body for what was to come.

He was so engrossed that he didn't even notice when the butler returned.

The older man stood at the garden entrance, his expression caught between shock and disbelief.

His Young Master—who had never trained, who had always scoffed at hard work—was sitting in absolute stillness, so deep in concentration that he didn't even acknowledge his presence.

The butler opened his mouth to speak—then hesitated.

He had already been shocked enough today. Perhaps it was best to leave before he lost his mind completely.

Silently, the butler turned and walked away.

The sun had long set by the time Kyle finally opened his eyes.

His body still felt weak, but there was something different now. The faint pulse of energy within him had grown stronger—barely noticeable, but still a step forward.

A smirk crossed his lips.

It's a start.

Just as he was preparing to freshen up for dinner, the butler returned—this time looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

The butler cleared his throat.

"Young Master… The Lord has requested to dine with you tonight."

Kyle instantly made the connection—this 'Lord' must be the father of his current body.

Interesting.

But what truly caught his attention was the butler's expression.

The man looked tense, almost concerned.

Kyle found that amusing.

He had no memories of this body's former life, but from the way the butler was acting, it was clear that his 'father' wasn't the warm, loving type.

Still, Kyle merely shrugged.

"Lead the way."

The butler hesitated before sighing.

"Young Master… whatever is said tonight, do not take it to heart."

Kyle blinked.

Then smirked.

So, it was going to be that kind of conversation.

He could already imagine it—a disappointed noble father berating his useless son, words dripping with contempt.

How cliché.

Kyle pretended to acknowledge the butler's words, but inwardly, he had already dismissed them.

It didn't matter what this so-called father thought of him.

Because Kyle wasn't here to prove anything to him.

He was here to conquer this world.

And no amount of scolding or mockery would change that.

"Let's not keep him waiting."

Kyle said, stepping forward.

The butler swallowed nervously and led the way.

______

Kyle entered the dining hall and immediately understood his position in this household.

The long table, meant to seat nobles of high standing, was empty. No servants waited on him, no attendants stood by his side.

He was the first to arrive.

Or rather—the only one expected to arrive first.

Kyle exhaled through his nose, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. The lack of staff was no accident. If he had been anyone of true importance, there would have been at least a few waiting to serve him.

He wasn't respected here.

Good.

It meant no one saw him as a threat.

Kyle reached for a chair, intent on sitting down. But just as he pulled it out, his instincts flared.

His fingers paused, brushing against the chair's surface.

'It's off balance.'

The legs were crooked—tilted in a way that could easily make him fall if he sat down carelessly. A small trick. Childish. But meant to humiliate him.

Kyle's lips curled into an amused smirk.

'That's not all.'

His eyes caught a gleam of something—just beneath the seat, tucked away in the shadows. A blade. Thin, sharp, positioned at an angle where a sudden collapse would drive it straight into his leg.

Sloppy.

The trap wasn't made to kill him—just to make him bleed, to mock him, to remind him of his place.

Kyle's fingers trailed the edge of the chair thoughtfully. How pathetic.

And yet…

He didn't react.

Instead, he let out a slow breath and pretended not to notice.

His ears picked up suppressed laughter.

Kyle didn't have to turn to know where it was coming from. Near the entrance, hidden in the shadows, a small group of armored men stood watching.

Soldiers.

They weren't even trying to hide their amusement.

Kyle could already picture the scenario in their minds—the disgraceful Young Master yelping in pain, falling, making a fool of himself once again.

'This is how they see me.'

Kyle smirked to himself.

How amusing.

It seemed tonight would be more entertaining than he thought.