In my past life, the amount of people who respected me for my heroism were uncountable. 

The military achievements I collected alone could make others gasp in admiration. 

They thought I was a living saint. 

A valiant, selfless hero who would even lay down his life to protect the entirety of my nation. 

However, how could they have known the reality was that the great hero they respected was only an ordinary man with a... unique talent? That my true talent were enduring hardships and not 'breaking'.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right…?

The 'talent' I had wasn't related to killing or fighting, nor was it related to foresight or planning. 

Instead, this 'ability' I had could only be described as having strong sense of self-awareness. 

Like having a supercomputer in my subconscious..

The ability to understand the present rather than the future. When I was recruited into the nation's special forces, my new 'brothers' would say that I was way too paranoid of my surroundings. 

Those would always be their last words right before death…

I didn't pay attention to this talent at first and wrote it off as having a strong sixth sense, but after many missions…. I found that such a description wasn't right. There was a mythology to the madness.

A pattern between the seemingly random signs…

It was more accurate to say that I was able to understand the dangers around me in a way that was quite unique. A perspective that was able to string together random information and predict.

There was a time when we were sent alongside a strong military platoon to rescue a VIP. 

Our rescue target was held hostage by a extremist faction of terrorists. 

I was following the commander at that time to infiltrate a small hotel.

It was where the criminals had hidden themselves.

We secretly made our way to the highest floor of the hotel, finding the room we were looking for. 

The Platoon Commander secretly relayed an order to us through hand signals to breach the door with an explosive. After that, we would retrieve the VIP held hostage within. A standard raid protocol.

We all nodded our heads in confirmation before following his orders to set up an explosive on the room door soundlessly. 

An alarm rang in my head as the commander was about to detonate the bomb, causing me instinctively retreat back. 

In that very next moment, an explosion interrupted us. 

The concrete floor under where I stood previously collapsed. 

My squad members were caught off guard, yet the terrorists within the room didn't give any time for us to recover our composure. They came barging out to attack without a moments notice.

We managed to complete our mission and rescue the VIP in the end, but none of us felt joy in doing so. 

The losses we sustained weren't something that could be recovered. 

There were now new soldiers who were martyred for the mission's success. These kinds of events repeated, and repeated, all until the day I was given the chance to retire for all the 'good' that I'd done.

I had become infinitely stronger by surviving every single time… but that strength came at a cost.

My heart almost died…

Maybe dying earlier would've been a greater fortune for me. Then I wouldn't have died inside.

Once I returned to the empty house I called a 'home', my hearts didn't even feel the joy I was supposed to feel from escaping my responsibility as a high-ranked soldier. Everything felt so empty.

All I felt was emptiness and loneliness from the depths of my heart. People can live by themselves and act independently from the rest of their family, but how many people can live in total solitude?

Prisons of old were used to drive people insane from solitude. 

How was my 'home' any different than a self-imposed punishment of imprisonment?

Back when I lived all on my own, I realised why this was the case from the detachment I felt from the world around me... 

My life as a soldier was full of dangers, but at least there were at least people to meet… 

…and a lot of brother-in-arms who would talk to me about their lives.

I never realised how lacking I was as a person until the colleagues who were always helping me cover up my faults disappeared. 

Only then did I realise just how much I relied on the military to even live like a normal person... 

It was as if the karma of not being able to save my comrades resulted in my long life. 

No one would be able to understand the kind of guilt I lived with after finally retiring from war...

Now… as I looked at the sturdy wooden sword my father was placing before me, the memories of those brothers I lost due to my incompetence appeared before me once more. 

Their ghosts appear in my heart, screaming: 

'Why is it only you who survived!? Why is it YOU who was given a second chance!? Why? Why?!'

I looked at the wooden sword in my father's hand in fear, unwilling to walk down that path once more. 

The sadness and despair from being the only one to survive isn't something I could burden on my shoulders again... I just couldn't fight anymore! I never want to go into battle with others ever again!

"How are you going to protect us in the future without strength?" My father spoke gently. 

He put his sword away and patted my head. 

I looked at his eyes and saw expectations he had for me; images of me bringing respect to his name.

It was then that I felt like I was struck by lightning. 

My father's question was simple, but why is it that I hadn't thought of it before? 

I'd always been fighting for my country, fighting for someone else, yet never for myself. 

The acquisition of strength was always to be used to protect the country, whether it be through cruelty or ruthlessness...

I'd done so many wrongs in the past to protect my country; I had done everything to protect it. 

Why else would I have so many military achievements? 

However, I've never once thought of acquiring power to protect myself... and my family.

I have a family now. My life is nothing like that of the past. There's no reason I shouldn't strive to protect them! The phantoms in my heart dissipated as soon as my heart found a new goal.

"I… I want to become stronger, but what if... What if I can't protect everyone even after I becoming strong and powerful? What if my effort goes in vain? Won't you hate me? Like I'm your worst son?

Won't you hate your incompetent son for failing his mission?" I said in an outburst that seemed to surprise my father. He looked at me for a moment before starting to heartily laugh at my figure. 

My mother who was watching us from afar was quite as father's thunderous voice resounded.

"Hey! What's so funny?!" My face twisted in embarrassment. My despair replaced with rage. 

This is the first time in my life I've ever confessed what I felt deep in my heart, yet my father laughed at me like some kind of idiot.

He then lifted me up with his arms and put me on his shoulder… before walking to my mother, who seemed to be moved to tears. Mother hugged me as soon as Father brought me close to her. 

A warm feeling of her embrace soothed my pained heart, making the anxiety fade away instantly. 

My eyes were filled with confusion as I look at my parents. I didn't understand what they were doing nor did I know why just a simple hug was able to push away my despair. What's this… warm feeling?

"Simon, listen to us closely. Stop worrying too much all by yourself. Forget about the things that have yet to happen. Forget about this 'mission' in your heart. Please just live more freely. 

The reason we wanted you to get stronger was because the world outside mansion is just unforgiving. 

It's a world filled with countless hardships and perilous dangers that you can't even begin to imagine." My father comforted with warm yet paranoid eyes. I felt they were similar to mine.

I looked at my father's bearded face and gained some clarity on regarding my feelings. 

Then I looked at my mother's almost crying face with an apologetic expression.

"My expectations were that you'd run away or cry when I first brought you here, but never did it cross my mind that you would think so deeply about this training. I'm sorry for pressuring you.

It's true that our decision to train you was done in an act of desperation. We knew that you wouldn't be able to become independent if you were to always rely on us, your parents, for protection.

We wanted to train you from a young age, we were determined to make you stronger, but now we've changed our minds. You will train when you want to train. We won't force you, okay?" My mother said while wiping the tears of her face… and off my own.

Her expression became stern. 

She decisively made her decision.

Father looked like he was about to disagree at first, but instantly changed his mind after seeing my mother's firm glare. It seems this spartan training program was more of my father's idea, rather than something mother came up with by herself. 

I got to remember this in the future... If anyone asks then the answer is 'yes', I DO keep grudges...!

"Mother, Father, I'm sorry. That won't be necessary anymore." My mind cleared after I spoke up.

I may have had regrets in the past, but there's no need for me to live in fear of failure in my new life anymore. 

There's no need to waste my precious time wallowing in self-pity. 

I wouldn't even have the chance to protect my own family after wasting my potential!

I may not have a strong latent magical potential like my parents. However, there are still the experience and techniques I had obtained in my past life, as well as Enigma's 'Gift' regarding my Attributes. 

If I'm unable to use them to expand my horizons, then I would have lived my past eighty years in vain!

It would be shameful to my brothers who have passed on! This time, I won't lose anyone here! 

Those who comes to harm my family will never get through me! I'll regain the strength of a veteran.

I'll never EVER lose! 

Never will I allow it!

Those Vampires that are always attacking our kingdom can go to hell! The first thing I'm going to do after obtaining a Adventurer's License will be to clean up the Drakeyol Kingdom's four borders!

"Father, I've made my decision. Let's train to our fullest." I jumped out of their arms and picked up the wooden sword laying on the floor. My eyes were filled with a newfound resolve to endure.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. 

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I kept on repeating that line like a modus operandi carved into my heart. It was to strengthen me…

Not my physical body, but my heart's resolve.

"Hahaha! That's my son! Let's spar to our hearts content!" My father laughed heartily and moved opposite me. He was readying a stance with his wooden sword leisurely. It was pointed upwards; my father's arms stayed motionless and stable. 

His whole body emitted a fighting intent while moving forward. His approach feeling 'heavy'.

"Thank you. Mother, Father.. I love you." I smiled and said softly. My hands firmly gripped the sword.

I held my wooden blade high using my innate physical strength. I started facing my father. 

My ears weren't able to hear any suspicious sounds. The large silhouette slowly stepped forwards with stable steps. The sword of his didn't emit any radiance, but I didn't get careless.

The Mana within my body expelled out of my skin and into the sword I was holding, causing my father to look at me in surprise. 

He stopped for a moment to look at the glowing radiance on my sword, before proceeding to cover his own sword in reinforcement as well.

Damn! I messed up big time! 

I shouldn't have tried to harden my defence with Burst Manipulation. Especially not in a showy way.

Now my father actually covered his wooden sword in Mana to balance his attack with my defence. 

I quickly stopped focusing on father's sword. 

Instead, I decided to concentrate on shielding myself from his attack using everything I could muster. Parrying the stroke would have been a better choice, but I didn't have the strength for it.

The world seemed to slow down. I realised many things even before my his sword hit my own.

Compared to how I imagined my father's attack would be, the reality before left me a little puzzled. 

The way my father used the Burst Manipulation technique seemed a little too... simple.

As for how it was simple, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but… My instincts were never wrong.

And not only that, but I could also feel the strong flame-like Mana invading my body from afar. 

I started feeling a little disoriented and dizzy thanks to the invasion of foreign magical energy.

My mind didn't have time to think any further than that. Time continued running once more. 

My mind instinctively spread out the rest of my Mana throughout my physique. Sharp eyes instantly predicted where my body would be affected most… by the impact caused by father's sword. I used my past life's battle experience.

However, my body couldn't follow well with my thoughts. My skills didn't suit my body anymore.

The wooden sword I held was slammed by my father's own and almost flew out of my hand, causing me to stagger backwards. My balance was forcefully disrupted after more Mana invaded me.

My body was completely uninjured by his stroke. 

However, I still toppled over anyway due to the force of impact. A child rolling from a mere push.

It was almost like I tripped over myself. Which was a thing I cared little about compared to that 'Art'.

What in the world was this technique…?!