It was nearing noon when I left the Eagles’ headquarters.

  After a long and rather intense negotiation, Salia set the opening bid at 5,000 gold coins. A staggering amount—that was equivalent to a Baron family’s full annual operating expenses. And given the nature of auctions, the price could easily double depending on how desperately the nobles coveted rare weaponry.

  Salia had already moved swiftly, spreading rumors through her network that an artifact comparable to Orichalcum would be auctioned. The news would undoubtedly cause an uproar among the elite.

  As a guarantee, I received an advance deposit of 1,000 gold coins. Normally, sellers were required to pay administrative fees upfront. However, since my item qualified as a “legendary antique,” all such fees were waived. For the Eagles, securing the auction rights alone was already a tremendous boost to their reputation.

  [Remaining Cosmic Energy: 500 Points.] Apolo’s transmission echoed in my mind.

  Hearing that made my heart sink slightly. To retrieve that modern-era survival knife, I had expended 2,000 cosmic energy points. Watching my energy savings vanish in an instant was painful—though the monetary exchange was worth it.

  The real problem was that gathering energy during winter was pure torment. The sun appeared for only a few hours each day, and I had to sit under it like salted fish just to absorb cosmic energy little by little.

  For now, I could not retrieve any more items. I had to conserve energy for emergencies—especially with the Domino Monster phenomenon set to strike Lucien territory’s border in three weeks.

  “Are you really sure it’s okay to sell something that expensive?” Len asked beside me, still visibly shaken by the demonstration earlier.

  “It’s fine,” I replied casually.

  During negotiations, I had fabricated a story that my father discovered the blade deep within the uncharted Dark Forest at the southeastern border. The name “Dark Forest” was enough to silence doubt; people instantly assumed it was some ancient relic from a forgotten era.

  “You’re a noble, aren’t you? Why do you look so desperate for money?” Len pressed, her eyes studying me carefully.

  “Hmm… think of it as fulfilling my duty as a devoted son,” I said, raising my fist with determination. “I’ve only been known as a troublemaker. This time, I intend to secure capital to reinforce my territory’s border walls—and record an achievement through Alex’s victory in the tournament.”

  “Oh? So you’re not entirely like the rumors say. A useless, perverted bastard,” Len teased, her tone noticeably softer.

  The corner of my lips curved upward. “Well, I am a bastard. But I suppose I received a bit of divine enlightenment after falling down the stairs and kissing the floor that day.”

  Len burst into laughter. “That’s the first time I’ve heard of a bastard reforming after a stair dive. Maybe I should recommend it to other perverts.”

  We chatted casually as we walked back toward the inn.

  But amidst the crowded marketplace, my steps suddenly halted.

  Among the crowd, I saw a very familiar figure.

  A black-haired girl was shopping enthusiastically, carefully picking out carrots at a vendor’s stall. Her smile was bright—like sunlight radiating warmth.

  I froze.

  It was Elaine.

  One of the protagonists who should have been on a completely different route.

  Sensing my gaze, Elaine turned.

  Our eyes met.

  Instantly, her body stiffened. The warm smile vanished, replaced by cold eyes as if she were staring at a repulsive heap of garbage. She instinctively clutched her shopping bag tighter, as though my mere existence posed a threat.

  There was no warmth left there.

  Ah… I want her to step on me with that look—

  For a split second, the twisted thought—remnants of the “original Rey”—surfaced in my mind. I quickly shook my head, rejecting the insanity. Thinking perverse thoughts at a moment like this was anything but funny.

  “Hey, do you know her?” Len asked, noticing my change.

  “You…!” Elaine hugged her bag tightly. When I tried to take a step forward, she stepped back, her face pale.

  I was fully aware of Rey Lucien’s past sins. Even if I carried memories from another life, this body was still the one that had hurt them.

  I had no intention of running from that responsibility.

  I bowed deeply.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Elaine… I’m sorry. For everything horrible I’ve done. And… please convey my sincere apology to Asteria,” I said, my voice trembling with genuine remorse.

  “An apology?” Elaine’s voice rose, laced with venom. “After you nearly destroyed someone’s future, you think ‘sorry’ is enough to fix it? Asteria still carries deep trauma because of you!”

  Her sharp gaze felt like it was piercing my heart.

  “If you truly regret it, isn’t simply apologizing selfish? You just want to make yourself feel better, don’t you?”

  Her words struck straight into my chest.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “Hey, isn’t that going too far?” Len interjected, offended on my behalf.

  I touched her shoulder lightly, signaling her to step back. What I had done to Asteria was unforgivable.

  I imagined Asteria—a fallen noble girl struggling desperately to restore her family’s name.

  And what had Rey Lucien done?

  Ruined it.

  A lustful bastard who confined her… who had nearly violated her.

  That stain could not be erased with mere words.

  “Don’t ever pass anything on to her,” Elaine hissed. “If you, Rey Lucien, truly ‘love’ her as you once claimed—your disgusting obsession that only chased her body in cowardly ways—then stop this act. Leave. And never appear before her again.”

  Elaine turned and walked away swiftly.

  I remained bowed, unable to lift my face.

  She was right.

  The best atonement might be to never appear again.

  For some reason, my chest felt unbearably tight—as if thousands of tons pressed down on it.

  In the noisy marketplace, all I could feel was emptiness.

  “Tch. Commoner,” Len muttered softly.

  Startled, I glanced at her.

  An arrogant glint flashed across Len’s face—a look eerily similar to one of the most dangerous antagonists in the game.

  I immediately dismissed the thought.

  “You shouldn’t say things like that,” I said.

  “Oh—hehe… sorry. I just couldn’t stand seeing you treated like that,” Len replied, her expression shifting instantly.

  “You’re a noble. Watching you bow sincerely while she remained cold—it felt strange.”

  “Even so, it was my fault.”

  “You may be a bastard, but many nobles in this empire are far worse. Elaine should consider herself fortunate you humbled yourself to apologize.”

  Len’s unexpected support lightened my mood slightly.

  We continued back toward the inn, stopping by food stalls to buy extra snacks.

  ---

  The next morning, we arrived at the Colosseum where the tournament was held.

  Day one would narrow forty participants down to twenty.

  The schedule was tight—day two would reduce them to ten, and day three would host the long-awaited finals.

  I studied the bracket board.

  Fortunately for Alex, he would not face Elvan in the early rounds.

  Since his opponents appeared far below his level, I decided to do something risky.

  “Five hundred gold coins?” The betting booth attendant stared wide-eyed at the pile of gold I placed down.

  “Yup. All in,” I said casually.

  “Have you gone mad? Betting that much?” Len nearly choked on her chicken satay.

  I simply shook my head calmly. “You know, Len? I only bet when my chance of winning is one hundred percent.”

  “You’re insane,” she muttered, continuing to chew her satay.

  In her arms, Chorma was also devouring skewers with oddly synchronized enthusiasm.

  The tournament began.

  We took our seats among the spectators.

  As predicted, Alex won effortlessly on the first day.

  Day two passed similarly—twenty became ten. My bet kept multiplying with each of Alex’s victories. Watching me behave like a seasoned gambler, Len could only shake her head.

  Then came day three.

  The final ten.

  Alex’s opponent this time was formidable.

  I knew him well.

  Darius.

  In the original plot, he was supposed to win this tournament.

  Darius was a poor adventurer with no talent for magic or aura. Because of that limitation, he had been forever stuck at Rank C—advancing to Rank B required mana or aura manipulation.

  However, this tournament relied purely on swordsmanship without external energy.

  Which made Darius nearly unbeatable.

  In the original story, he won, requested aura training from the Duke, and eventually became a famous Rank S adventurer.

  But that fate would change today.

  “Begin!”

  The referee’s shout echoed as the crowd roared.

  Darius launched the opening strike explosively, bringing his two-handed sword down in a full-force vertical cleave.

  Clang!

  Alex blocked, but the vibration forced him back a step.

  Fortunately, the extreme training I had put him through had significantly sharpened his reflexes.

  Still, Darius was no ordinary opponent. A thirty-year-old veteran adventurer, his combat instincts were razor sharp.

  In raw strength, Alex was clearly inferior.

  But technique was not merely about power.

  Darius had strength.

  Alex had speed.

  Realizing it would be dangerous to keep absorbing heavy blows, Alex switched to offense. He moved nimbly, dodging Darius’ brutal swings as if reading the future.

  Minutes passed in intense exchange.

  The crowd roared louder when Alex unleashed a lightning-fast diagonal slash toward Darius’ shoulder.

  With astonishing reaction speed, Darius planted his greatsword into the ground, using its broad blade as a shield.

  Clang! Clang!

  Each impact rang deafeningly. Every time Darius’ blade struck the arena floor, chunks of stone scattered, displaying his terrifying physical power.

  Alex kept shifting positions, his footwork gliding like a dancer on ice, narrowly avoiding a horizontal swing that nearly split his chest.

  “Can you only run, boy?!” Darius roared.

  He spun his massive blade one-handed—a monstrous display of strength—and slammed it toward Alex.

  This time, Alex didn’t retreat.

  Instead, he stepped in.

  Tilting his body, he allowed the blade to pass mere millimeters from his shoulder—a high-risk counter-parry technique.

  Using the momentum of Darius’ embedded sword, Alex pivoted. Releasing one hand from his longsword, he drove his elbow straight into Darius’ jaw.

  Thud!

  Darius staggered—but veteran instinct saved him. He released his sword and threw a counterpunch, forcing Alex to leap back.

  They reset, both breathing heavily, eyes locked.

  “Strange technique… You’re no ordinary knight,” Darius said, wiping blood from his lip.

  “I just have a cruel teacher,” Alex replied with a faint smile.

  Darius charged again.

  This time, no wild swings. Holding his greatsword with both hands, he executed rapid thrusts—an advanced technique rarely seen with such a heavy weapon.

  Alex was driven to the edge of the arena.

  One more step and he would fall—disqualified.

  Cornered, Alex remembered one principle:

  Use your opponent’s weight against them.

  Darius raised his sword high for a final crushing blow.

  “This is it!” the crowd shouted.

  As the blade descended at full speed—

  Alex did the impossible.

  He did not block.

  He did not sidestep.

  He dropped forward, sliding between Darius’ legs.

  Crash!

  The greatsword shattered the arena floor—but its target was gone.

  Before Darius could pull his blade free from the cracked stone, Alex was already behind him.

  Calmly, he pressed the tip of his longsword against the back of Darius’ neck.

  Silence fell over the Colosseum.

  The veteran adventurer froze, feeling cold steel at his throat.

  He released his sword and raised both hands.

  “I surrender,” Darius said hoarsely. “Incredible speed, kid.”

  The referee raised Alex’s arm high.

  “WINNER: ALEX LUCIEN!”