30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

"Swordsmanship…."

Ihan cast a wary glance at the twig drifting through the air.
It was nothing more than a mere twig, yet he refused to let his guard down, not even for an instant.
Click.

"You’re taking this quite seriously. It’s just a twig, nothing more."
"...From where I’m standing, I don’t think this is just a twig. If anything, it might be more troublesome than an actual sword."
"You deduced that on instinct? Impressive."
"Not instinct, just…."
Thwack!
—Ihan wasn’t being paranoid. He had simply read too many martial arts novels to dismiss it carelessly.

Bracing himself, Ihan kicked off the ground and swung his sheathed iron sword.
He hadn't drawn the blade yet; this was just a test clash. When the scabbard met the twig—
Boom!

"...A physicist would have a stroke seeing this."
The impact resounded like hammers colliding.
There was no way a brittle twig should have that kind of weight. Ihan had no logical explanation for what had just happened, but he reminded himself that superhumans operated outside the realm of common sense.

So, rather than questioning it—
‘I’ll just treat it as another sparring partner.’
Ihan decided to take the simplest approach: treating the twig attacking him as an actual swordsman, a proper training opponent. He adjusted his stance, preparing to evade.

Why dodge instead of blocking or countering?
Because dodging was the obvious choice.
Whoosh! Whoosh!

Especially when he wasn’t dealing with just one opponent, but seven.
Seven floating twigs surged toward him simultaneously.
Normally, he would have relied on Iron Body to tank the hits, but he recalled Felicia’s instruction to refrain from using any techniques. That meant he had to put in extra effort.
Swish!

People often assumed Ihan lacked technical finesse just because he had a habit of brute-forcing his way through fights.
But those who truly understood martial arts knew better.
Would someone without skill be able to use something as intricate as Illusory Eight Trigrams Steps?

Whoosh!
Despite his large frame, Ihan moved with surprising speed and fluidity.
His footwork wasn’t flashy, but it was refined—smooth and controlled, like gliding across an icy surface rather than walking on solid ground.

And when such footwork was combined with swordsmanship—
"Excellent!"
—subduing an opponent, even one as bizarre as a floating twig, was hardly a challenge.

Ihan's sword struck down one of the twigs, shattering it. Felicia clapped, clearly entertained.
"I'm not a performer," he muttered, feeling like a circus act.
But she didn’t seem to hear—or maybe she just ignored him—as she sent another wave of twigs his way.

"Alright, let’s increase the difficulty a little."
Fwwoosh!
"!?!"

Like a game suddenly shifting to a higher difficulty setting, the twigs moved faster, carrying significantly more force.
Smack!
"Goddamn—"

Ihan barely managed to block the next attack, but the impact against his wrist was leagues beyond the previous strikes, forcing a curse out of him.
‘This isn’t just swordsmanship.’
Even among masters of sword control, the pinnacle of swordsmanship at a distance was often referred to as Heart-Controlled Swordsmanship.

‘No… it might be a step beyond that.’
Ihan decided not to define Felicia’s Skyblade by his existing knowledge and assumptions.
If he tried to force it into the framework of what he understood, he would never defeat it.

Shing!
He tossed away his scabbard and finally drew his sword.
If he wanted to show sincerity, he had to respond with sincerity.

And, as if acknowledging his decision—
Boom!
—the twigs unleashed an even greater surge of pressure.

It was as if they were telling him that drawing his blade was the only correct choice.
"Huff!"
Slash!

Ihan took a deep breath and met the force head-on, slicing through the incoming twig.
Thud!
Another one tried to sneak up on him from behind.

Swish!
His blade swept through it without hesitation.
At a glance, his slashes seemed simple, almost dull. But the force behind them was overwhelming.

The sheer wind pressure from his swings felt like razor-sharp gusts, reminiscent of a sword storm.
After all, he had spent three years refining his horizontal slash while lifting hundreds of kilos of weights. The sheer force behind it was only natural.
"...Impressive. Strength aside, it’s clear you never skipped a day of training. Did you really reach this level with just the fundamentals?"

"I never had a proper teacher to teach me any fancy sword techniques."
"And that makes it even more commendable. Since you had no master, you trained yourself even more ruthlessly…! You’re like a living hunk of steel—so refined and tempered that it’s impossible to tell how much polishing went into it."
Felicia didn’t hold back her praise.

It was almost excessive, to the point where it felt like she was mocking him.
But she had her reasons for speaking this way.
"Tell me, child… you weren’t exactly blessed with natural talent, were you?"

"That body of yours is impressive, but it’s clearly the result of training no ordinary human could endure. It doesn’t seem like a mystical ability, though. I’d wager you were subjected to some kind of experiment that enhanced your recovery. You must’ve gone through hell since childhood."
Boom!
"Ah, but don’t get me wrong—I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Back in my youth, I knew a few people with recovery abilities like yours. Some even trained their bodies in a similar way.

For reference, among those with enhanced regeneration, there was one who possessed a truly rare mystic power—Regeneration. He had excellent talent in swordsmanship, too. But in the end, he became drunk on his own strength, let his arrogance consume him… and was the first to die."
Crunch!
"The rest didn’t fare much better. No matter how strong their recovery was, they couldn’t surpass their own limits. They lacked perseverance, lacked true resolve."

Swish!
Ihan had no time to listen to her words.
The twigs were no longer just blunt sticks—they had somehow gained razor-sharp edges, slicing through his sleeves with ease.

And their weight had increased exponentially, pressing him harder and harder.
However—
"This is starting to get annoying."

—this didn’t mean Ihan was in danger.
Crack!
His muscles twitched and flexed with precise control.

Like a tightly coiled spring snapping back into place, his body compressed and stored power, ready to release it in one devastating burst.
He wasn’t using Qi Reinforcement or any special techniques. His raw strength alone had already reached an explosive threshold. And when that compressed force was channeled through the medium of his sword—
BOOOOOM!

It was as if an artillery shell had landed.
Crackle—!!
The sheer shockwave rattled the ground, sending deep fractures across the courtyard. The sound of the impact roared through the air, nearly shaking the buildings themselves.

A thick cloud of dust billowed out, cloaking the garden in a murky fog.
But when the dust settled—
"...This is by far the most terrifying twig I’ve ever fought."

The seven twigs lay shattered, reduced to useless fragments on the ground.
And yet, Ihan didn’t feel any sense of satisfaction.
Drip...

"Why the hell is my sword breaking…?"
His own blade was on the verge of shattering as well.
Staring at the fine cracks along its surface, Ihan could only sigh bitterly.

***
"I- Instructor… you can’t call Kunta a mystical race anymore. Compared to you, Kunta thinks you’re the real mystery here."
"Agreed. Wholeheartedly."
"Hahaha…."
Kunta and Arno both looked dumbfounded.

Their instructor had just obliterated the ground without using Aura Reinforcement or Qi Techniques.
Even among Barbarians—renowned for their monstrous physical prowess—none could match what they had just witnessed.
Only Levi, looking somewhat awkward, muttered a hesitant defense. "But… isn’t it kind of cool…?"

No one supported her argument.
"...Elza, I hate to say this, but… is Sir Turtle even human?"
"...I wonder myself."
As the others gawked at the sheer absurdity of Ihan’s raw strength, he paid no attention to them.

His gaze was locked solely on Felicia.
"Impressive. The sheer dedication you’ve poured into training your body is evident. You’re more remarkable than that arrogant fool of the past, and superior to the so-called geniuses I’ve seen."
"I’m not interested in comparisons or being told I’m better than someone else."

Clink.
Ihan leveled his fractured blade at Felicia.
"Are you finally going to fight me yourself? Or are you going to keep playing around with those floating swords?"

"I’d like to, but I don’t think I should. If I did… I might accidentally kill you."
"...That’s one hell of a way to phrase it."
Ihan didn’t take it as mere confidence.

It was a fact.
If she unleashed Skyblade again, he would have no choice but to go all out.
But even if he used every trick in his arsenal, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he still wouldn’t be able to defeat an Aura User.

If he rushed in recklessly—
‘I’d probably end up looking like a human pincushion.’
The thought of his body getting perforated by those floating swords was enough to make his skin crawl.

Just imagining it was chilling.
"Hmm. I think I understand your problem now."
"...?"

"Heh. You got so caught up in the fight, you forgot, didn’t you? We weren’t fighting. I was simply testing you, getting to know you through a light spar."
"...Didn’t feel light to me…."
Click.

Before Ihan could argue further, Felicia tapped the ground with the twig in her hand.
As if to demand his full attention.
"Listen, child. Your issue isn’t your strength or technique. It’s something else entirely.

You still lack control over your mental energy."
"??"
Ihan tilted his head.

Not because he didn’t understand the words, but because the concept itself didn’t make sense to him.
‘…Mental energy? How the hell am I supposed to use that?’
Seeing his confusion, Felicia chuckled.

"Curious about how to harness mental energy? Well…."
—And then, without any further explanation—
She simply held out her hand.

It was such a casual movement that Ihan almost scoffed.
But then—
RUMBLE…!!

"...What."
The ornamental boulder in the center of the courtyard—nearly 20 meters away—began to rise.
With no warning, no buildup—

It simply floated into the air.
"As you can see, it looks like a mystical ability. But it’s not.
This is just me applying my mental energy to lift a rock."

"...That’s literally telekinesis."
"It’s not a mystic ability, I told you! It’s just—well—willpower and belief. That’s all you need!"
"……."

"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
"...No reason."
If willpower and belief were all it took, then someone could probably split the ocean in two.

‘Is this the miracle of the Red Sea or something…?’
In that moment, Ihan realized—if an Aura User ever decided to become a religious leader, they’d be terrifyingly convincing.