Flashback: Sage - 2 months earlier

Sage visited his last disciples after years of absolutely no contact, seeing them succeed in life in various important positions.

As he expected, they all asked him to train their offsprings, and he needed to refuse sternly. He had no wish training others just so they could flaunt it against other children.

He may have been reluctant to join the war, but Sage enjoyed the peace that came with its conclusion. As transient as it always was, but still.

The most eager ones to have him as a teacher for their son were the Reinhardt couple. Sage was the first to admit the two's talent, but he found their easygoing nature and ridiculous emphasis on brute force disappointing. The expectations he had for their son, Percival, weren't high.

When he heard the boy was injured fighting a beast beyond his capabilities, it plummeted even more.

“Do you feel like a man hunting down a powerful beast?” he asked as soon as they met.

The boy looked back with uncanny intelligence sparking his eyes. “Aren't you smart?”

Bedridden, Percival appeared completely lifeless. He continued to burn his mana as soon as every bits and crumbs recovered, ignoring the strain his wrecked body was under.

Sage told him to stop this dangerous exercise, but Percival stared at him with the same expression as before. So instead, he gave him a much safer yet exponentially harder mana technique. If he was smart, he would see the potential this exercise held.

Sage wasn't consumed by his curiosity. He was a wise man that understood the world on a level no human could rival. It was easy to deduce the whole story as he examined the boy and his surroundings.

A talentless child in the world where strength ruled. Crushed under the pressure of his heritage, he was a pitiful one that deserved some rest.

However, all in all, there was nothing special. Sage wasn't going to change his mind; he was unwilling to train the boy even at the begging of his disciples.

Sage had been certain that he would not train the child called Percival no matter what.

When I wake up, I see master seeping tea. He made a serving for me, which I drink. It actually tastes great, but I don't feel like asking for seconds.

“You are not the first to tell me I'm a bad teacher, boy.”

I reach into my mana, and it's full. Which means at least 10 hours passed, but the sun is only slightly higher than before, so at least a day.

If I ask, the answer will probably be more than one day.

“Three days,” Sage answers as if he read my mind, and I give him my attention in return. “You may be right.”

“About what, shitty master?” I ask innocently.

“I... think you need more than just a master that will tell you what to do. Don't think I haven't noticed why you call me master.”

“I had my fair share of those telling me what to do,” I say.

As a future duke, my every move were under scrutiny, even more so because of who my parents are. My manners weren't good enough, I was not strong enough, my mana isn't high enough. I am simply not enough.

I was practically bullied.

So excuse me if I am sick of people talking down to me. Of them treating me like an idiot.

“I am sorry.” Master bows his head in apology.

Most wouldn't dare have Sage stay like that, but I only look at him silently, stretching the seconds.

“Save it. Aren't we still heading to the capital? There is nothing more you can teach me.”

“There is always more to learn. Until we arrive at the front of your doors, this mentorship continues.” Sage rises on his feet, and I follow suit. “For the next few weeks, I will teach you breathing techniques and help you explore your meridians. And, despite my deep reluctance, I am lifting the three rules. You are impatient and reckless, boy, but it's true that you have cultivated a remarkable skill. I will help you down that road, but know that it is more likely you will destroy your own body.”

I nod, swallowing my surprise.

From the very beginning, I never intended to abandon Surge. It's my signature technique, one I have cultivated for years.

Master is right about me restoring my nerves, and the other exercise I still haven't mastered. But he wants me to take the long path, completely disregarding my own choice.

The long path will never allow me to surpass the heroes. Not my father, mother, nor shitty master. I won't take it even if you put a dagger on my throat. And finally, my stubbornness won over master, just as I thought.

My now-less-shitty master guides through a special set of breathing. It requires deep breaths at a certain rhythm and synchronize mana flow along with it. After mastering the physical movements, I set it automatically and focus on mana control.

Several minutes later, after depleting my mana, I suddenly feel it recovering, as if someone poured his own mana, modifying to match my own, directly into me.

Well, isn't that fucking convenient.

I continue until no mana flows in, then I switch to my main mana exercise.

I observe my master as he meditates. His hair long and white, yet his appearance youthful. After living so long, his compassion borderlines on indifference, and dealing with him always unnerves me.

Sometimes, I am not even sure he could be considered human, and that scares me, but also stirs my envy. The sheer nonreplicable perspective he has achieved after decades of seclusion is mind blowing.

Maybe I am arrogant solely for trying to surpass this old man, whose technique is better than anyone, whose mana is the purest.

Surpassing my father and other heroes is the old question of talent and effort against effort and more effort. But against Sage, it's a whole different story, as if layers upon layers of different types of battles converged into a singular point.

If my body were to move normally, I would have shown my fear. Sage terrifies me, not because I think he will kill but, but because he can see me too well. He knows too much, but doesn't even blink.

I bet he wouldn't bat an eye if I were to die.

If he was the one to kill me.

“Why did you decide to teach me?” I hesitate for a long while before mustering the courage to ask.

I made sure to sound emotionless, only adding bits of curiosity, but I wonder if Sage saw through this facade.

He open his eyes to look at me, his next words overturning me with tides of confusion, “Because you threw a tantrum.”

The heck?