The Swordmaster's Youngest Sons:Twin Destiny

Ethan adjusted his stance, shifting his weight slightly before delivering another precise strike. His movements were fluid, each swing sharper than the last. In his past life, he had relied on speed, deception, and lethality—but here, in the Runcandel Clan, strength and technique were paramount.

He had to master both.

He repeated the motions again and again, each time refining his control. He could feel his muscles adapting, his body remembering the rhythm.

Then, without warning, he pivoted, incorporating a technique he had seen from Cyron Runcandel himself—a silent, explosive movement meant to overwhelm an opponent instantly.

The force behind his swing sent a gust rippling through the grass, but Ethan immediately stopped himself. He exhaled slowly, realizing he had nearly let instinct take over. This was not the time to reveal such skills—not yet.

He took a step back, relaxing his grip. "Too soon," he muttered under his breath. He needed to grow at a natural pace, ensuring no one suspected him.

Still, a small smile played on his lips. The potential was there. With time, he would shape himself into a true force within the Runcandel Clan—without anyone realizing until it was too late.

Ethan straightened, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. His body was still young, unrefined compared to the monstrous strength he had wielded in his past life. But that was fine. Growth was a process—one he would control carefully.

He turned his gaze toward the towering estate in the distance. The night was his ally, granting him the solitude he needed to sharpen his skills.

But just as he prepared to resume his training, his sharp instincts flared.

Someone was watching him.

Without hesitation, he stilled his breath, his senses stretching outward to identify the observer.

Ethan kept his breathing steady, pretending to be unaware while sharpening his senses. The presence was faint, barely noticeable, but he could feel it—a pair of eyes watching from the darkness.

His grip on the wooden sword tightened. Was it a servant? A sibling? Or perhaps someone sent to monitor him?

He turned slightly, acting as though he were simply adjusting his stance. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement near the treeline. Someone was definitely there.

Instead of reacting, Ethan resumed his training. If they wanted to watch, he would give them a show.

Ethan moved deliberately, executing each strike with measured precision. He adjusted his breathing, ensuring his movements appeared natural—neither too skilled nor too lacking.

The presence in the shadows did not retreat. Whoever it was remained still, observing.

'Testing me?' Ethan wondered.

If it was a sibling, they would likely mock or challenge him. If it was a servant, they would have left by now. That meant only one thing—this was someone with an interest in his progress.

He needed to draw them out.

With a final swing, he deliberately overextended, stumbling slightly as if he had made a mistake.

The reaction was immediate. A barely perceptible shift in the air, the sound of a foot pressing against grass—whoever was watching had moved.

Ethan smirked internally. 'Got you.'

He controlled his breathing, pretending to be frustrated. Clicking his tongue, he tightened his grip on the wooden sword and reset his stance.

Another step. Closer this time.

'They're approaching.'

Ethan took another swing, this time deliberately slowing his recovery. If the observer thought he was vulnerable, they might reveal themselves.

A faint whisper of movement—then silence.

Whoever they were, they were cautious. But Ethan was patient.

Instead of reacting, Ethan continued his act. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if disappointed in himself. Then, he took a deep breath and prepared for another swing.

The presence in the shadows hesitated.

'Still watching? Or deciding whether to approach?'

Ethan's fingers twitched. If they didn't reveal themselves soon, he would have to force their hand.

Just as he was about to make his move, a voice broke the silence.

"You're training hard for someone so young."

Ethan froze for half a second before turning his head, masking his intrigue with mild curiosity.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with sharp features and a composed demeanor. His presence exuded confidence, but there was no hostility in his stance.

Ethan met his gaze calmly. "Shouldn't I be?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

The man chuckled. "Most children your age don't train alone at night." His eyes flickered to the wooden sword in Ethan's hand. "And they certainly don't move like you do."

Ethan remained silent, analyzing the stranger. He wasn't a servant. His aura was too controlled. A knight, perhaps? Or someone from the clan?

"Who are you?" Ethan finally asked.

The man's lips curled into a faint smile. "A mere observer," he said. "You may call me Joshua."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. Joshua? He didn't recognize the name among the Runcandel knights or servants. That meant this man wasn't part of the household staff.

"Why are you watching me?" Ethan asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Joshua chuckled, taking a slow step forward. "Curiosity. It's not every day I see a child wielding a sword with such precision." His gaze lingered on Ethan's stance. "Tell me, young master, are you training to prove something?"

Ethan met Joshua's gaze without hesitation. "Isn't that the purpose of training?" he replied calmly. "To prove yourself?"

Joshua's smile deepened, as if amused by the response. "A mature answer for someone so young." He crossed his arms, observing Ethan with newfound interest. "And what is it that you wish to prove?"

Ethan knew this was a test. A careless answer could raise suspicions. He let out a slow breath. "That I'm worthy of my name."

Joshua chuckled. "A Runcandel's pride, I see."

Ethan remained still, watching for any sign of deeper intent behind Joshua's words.

Give me power stones