—It's been a considerable amount of time, specifically more than twenty-two years, since I inherited this style. It was a legacy that I received with great responsibility and commitment, aware that it would require hard work and dedication to fully master it. Over the years, I can assure you with my hand on my heart that I have invested a significant amount of time and effort in developing this style. It has been a road full of challenges and obstacles, but I have persevered with determination and patience to overcome each one. Over time, I have come to understand that mastering a style is not just a matter of technique, but also requires a deep understanding of its essence and how it relates to the world around us. Therefore, I have explored this style from different perspectives, getting closer and closer to its true meaning. I soon realized that this process was not easy, but it has allowed me to get closer to heaven and earth in a unique way. I have experienced a feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction seeing how my effort and dedication have paid off in my ability to use it effectively and smoothly. That is why I am here to offer you him. I feel that it would be the greatest demonstration of my dedication to your teachings, master.

When I heard and saw this conversation through the crack in the door, I knew it was something serious from the expression on Grandpa Harald's face. It was true that reading his face was an arduous task, but after a while I understood the meaning behind each of his grimaces.

The attire of the young man seated in front of him consisted of a simple, dark kimono made of cotton or linen, fitted with a leather obi. He also wore a hakama, which was long, loose trousers that were cinched at the waist and tied with ribbons at the ankles. The functionality of these pants was simple, to provide comfort and greater freedom on the battlefield.

His weapon was a thin and long sword, he also carried a bow and arrows at his waist.

Inadvertently, I had paid too much attention to the similarity of the young man's attire to that of a samurai, and I didn't realize that sharp eyes were looking straight into my soul.

"Old worthless..." I spat to myself as I ran away from the crack in the door.

I was confident that, despite having been found out, the person in question would not believe that my six-year-old hearing was capable of understanding the entirety of the conversation. Fortunately for me, every detail had been carefully listened to, and tonight would take my first step toward greatness.

By the way, I haven't learned anything about this world despite being here for six years. However, tonight when I steal that samurai's technique I'll be sure to steal the children's story and see if I can get any reference points from him.

Why doesn't this guy have books in his house?

* * *

The night was dark and the silence was almost total. The only light that entered the room was what filtered through the small slits in the window. The tension was palpable in the air. I knew that any wrong move could ruin the entire plan that I had so painstakingly concocted over two long weeks.

The room where I slept was almost a black hole, a kind of sacrificial sanctuary. Although not as sinister, it really was the worst room in the cabin. Therefore, I made sure to take the wooden sword with me, since although I didn't know any martial arts or special techniques, I was willing to withstand some blows and deflect some others.

With a slow, cautious step, I began to move down the dark corridor, measuring every inch that my feet moved. I tried to reduce the weight of my body so that I could move to one side or the other without making the slightest noise.

My goal was the room at the end of the corridor. I knew I had to be careful, as a single wrong move could ruin the entire plan. The wooden boards did not creak under my feet, not because I weighed less than a sack of potatoes, but because I had carefully calculated during those two weeks which pieces of wood were weaker and which were firmer. As a result, I had scored excellent on the score of the woods.

When I lost the concentration that had kept me tied to the care of my footsteps, I realized that I was already in front of the door at the end of the corridor. I wasn't surprised to notice that it was open, it was always open whenever I walked past the corridor and took a look.

But what did surprise me was the rhythmic beat of something around me, it was incessant and as vivid as it was indescribable. Until I realized that it was actually the heart in my chest that was beating with the adrenaline of doing something that would probably cost me dearly if found out.

Using my fat, clunky hand, I pushed my little sausage fingers against the wooden door and was greeted by an incandescent light.

The small room was enveloped in a soft golden light, emanating from the shelves of dusty old books that filled the room. The shelves seemed almost crowded, with books stacked one on top of the other, and each of them seemed to contain ancient and mysterious secrets and knowledge from a thousand worlds.

My breath heaving with emotion made me savor the air impregnated with a sweet and earthy aroma, as if the books were enriched by the magic of the words they contained. In the center of the room was a small round table with an oil lamp that gave off a soft, warm light. The light that had blinded me barely entered. Around the table, there was a high-backed chair, covered with a velvet cushion in dark tones, which seemed to invite the visitor to sit down and get lost in the mysteries of the books.

As I walked into the room with my mouth open and my mind blank, I felt as if I were entering a magical and enchanted world, where each book was a key to open new doors of knowledge and adventure. The walls were covered with tapestries with ancient designs and strange and mystical symbols, which seemed to contain their own secrets and messages.

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At that moment, a question formed in my head through the haze of uncertainty.

"Where should I start...?"

Although the answer was greatly reduced by simply saying that my height only allowed me access to the books lying on the floor, it was incredible to think that all this could be within reach of my hands.

Fortunately in the chaos that had been unleashed in my mind, a memory pushed to a corner of my mind appeared.

"The technique of the samurai."

That was it, I was here for the technique. If I got it and learned it, I could achieve my goal.

But...

The glow of her seduced me with a dark light, as if she were imbued with the very essence of darkness. Her blade was thin and sharp, and seemed to be forged from a material that reflected light in a strange and fascinating way. I would approach her involuntarily, by the time I realized it, I felt an electric sensation in the air, as if the dagger was calling me.

I looked at her chest on the ground and studied her in the distance. The handle was carved with intricate designs that seemed to symbolize the powers it possessed. The details on the handle are dark and intricate, suggesting that the dagger was an ancient object, having passed through many hands over the centuries.

My eyes brushed the blade and left a trace that marked the relief of the inscriptions engraved in some language. These inscriptions were incomprehensible to me, but I was sure that by understanding the language, whoever owned it could unlock immense power.

She had a sinister and seductive presence at the same time. She was an object that attracted attention and curiosity, but also evoked a sense of danger and immense power. Anyone who possessed this black dagger was to be respected and feared...

Suddenly, as if I had been brought from around the world, a thick and cold hand took my wrist. When I raised my head, I saw Harald.

—What do you think you're doing, Eryndor?

Eryndor was my name, given by the old man on any given day.

—I take my first step and walk my way as an invincible warrior, old man —I said without hesitation.

Harald looked at me with compassion in his eyes and a sigh escaped from his lips.

—Eryndor, you don't understand what you're saying. The life of a warrior is not easy. There is pain, suffering, and a great deal of sacrifice that must be made.

Confusion washed over me. Why was he behaving this way? Was he up to something? But his tired look didn't seem to hide any malice.

—I do not care anything about that. All you do is teach me how to protect myself from attacks. If you're not going to teach me how to use a weapon, I'll do it myself. I need to prove myself to be a warrior. I need to be the best.

My voice trembled with every word that came out of my mouth, but I wasn't going to back down now that I'd gone as far as answering him without lowering my head. The old man looked at me fixedly, and his eyes seemed to penetrate my soul.

—Eryndor, violence and death are not the answer. If you seek greatness, search your heart and your actions. Not in the blood spilled on the battlefield.

But I didn't want to hear his words of wisdom. I needed that dagger to prove myself, to prove that I was more than just a peasant. With a determined look, I approached the chest where the dagger was located.

Harald followed me with his gaze, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. But before I could grab the dagger, he stopped me.

—Life is short, Eryndor. Don't waste your time seeking greatness in violence. Find greatness in love, friendship and compassion. That is the true way to be a warrior.

I stood there, hand outstretched for the dagger, as the old man walked away. His words echoed in my head, and for a moment, I felt confused.

Was it possible to find greatness without violence? Was it possible to be a warrior without killing?

Looking at the dagger in his chest, I left the cabin and headed into the woods, lost in thought. Life was short, and maybe the old man was right. Maybe there were other ways to find greatness...

But for long years, I had lived with the weight of cowardice. I felt weak in front of girls, ashamed of my simplest actions. There was not a day that I did not regret my existence, mired in my own waste and rotting in the shadow of a darkness that my weakness had created. Laziness had consumed my willpower, leaving me at the mercy of my own weaknesses.

For the last five years of my old life, I let myself be swept up in a whirlwind of self-pity and defeat, convinced that my life had no place in my world. Each day, I gave myself a little more to despair, thinking that my fate was sealed. But in the darkest part of my soul, something stirred.

Suddenly, that girl appeared in front of me. Her presence took me by surprise and unknowingly changed the course of my destiny. Yet there was something in everything that drew me to her, something that made her mother not notice she had wandered off, something that made the driver fall asleep, something that ignited a fire inside my soul and that made me feel more alive than ever.

It was at that moment that a part of my body spoke to me. An inner voice that had been silent for too long rose up in me, refusing to give up. She told me that even after I ceased to exist, that part of me would continue to fight for the freedom of my soul.

So when I reincarnate in this world in the body of a baby, I never give up fighting. With each passing day, I rose from the bed of straw worse than my previous life with renewed determination, ready to face the world with all my might. I learned a language, to defend myself against attacks with a sword, and to face every challenge with courage.

It was not easy. There were times when I thought I couldn't do it, times when the shadow of self-pity threatened to drag me down once more. But I clung to that inner voice, the voice that had told me not to give up.

And just like that, I finally found the freedom I had been looking for. I was no longer a coward, nor a slave to my own weakness. I was a brave boy, capable of facing the world with courage and determination. All thanks to a girl who taught me that life is worth fighting for, even when it seems like all was lost.

Yet despite all of that, was I now going to give up on a path I had found so hard to find?

—Oh? Looks like tonight's dinner has arrived at my home.