Reincarnation Of The Legendary Sword Saint-Chapter 48: Flow Mastery

"So why did you ask, son?" Aldwin replied.

"Well... I just wanted to know," Rowan said. "So... there really are humans stronger than that," Rowan muttered quietly. "Stronger than Father."

Even though he had lost to the Demon Lord’s personal knight, Valzaha, he was still incredibly powerful. And yet, Aldwin said there were humans even stronger than him. That meant these people existed but he knew they wouldn’t be able to defeat him the near future even if he hasn’t met them.

"In the books I’ve read," he continued to himself, "there were stories of heroes summoned from another world, heroes capable of challenging the Demon Lord himself."

Some of them succeeded.

Some of them died.

And others... vanished entirely.

"The Demon Lord can be replaced or resurrected," Rowan thought, "but these heroes... some managed to resist him, even briefly."

He remembered the account clearly.

In the last twenty-five years, the current Demon Lord has killed over twenty summoned heroes.

Some lasted only months.

Some survived a year.

A few endured longer, but all had faced the might of the Demon Lord.

Rowan then walked into his room and lay on his bed, resting.

Well, if that’s... I should say, Father already told me. He said that Sword Saints are considered among the weakest. And I’m sure that if I enter the Sword Academy, they’ll look down on my blessing. I’ll probably be looked down on. But that doesn’t really matter to me.

Still, that isn’t even what interests me.

In my previous world, I can surely say with full trust there was no one stronger than me. Even as I died, I was still capable of healing myself, but I wanted to. Because I didn’t see the need to keep living. And not only that, by learning skills and techniques that no Sword Saints had ever been able to establish, I formed and created my own technique, a technique that with just a single slash could destroy the Demon Lord. But those skills also made me vulnerable.

Well, not only that, people in this world are really lucky. Almost everyone is given a blessing, even as a swordsman. Even if it’s weak, it’s still something. In my previous world, it was different, very different. My family was the only family of Sword Saints. There was no other type of blessing. Sword Saints mostly came from my family. It is usually announced by a priestess, who will declare the next Sword Saint when the child is born.

Rowan thought, folding his legs, sitting up, and joining both of his arms together. He started breathing in and out with his eyes closed, trying to increase his mana more and more. Steady breathing.

After a while, he stopped, took a book, and went out of his room to the library, the small library in the house, looking for a book about water magic. Then he took it and started reading.

Rowan had been reading for about two hours when he finally paused. The book was truly impressive, well-written, clear, and informative. He had begun to understand the concepts better than before. Yet even as he stopped for a moment, he quickly resumed reading, pushing through his fatigue. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he fell asleep right there, the book still clutched in his hands.

Mira entered the room and found him asleep. She smiled softly and gently carried him to his bed, tucking him in carefully.

The next morning, Rowan woke slowly and rose from his bed. The lessons from the book ran through his mind. He had learned a great deal about water magic, and it was astonishing how much potential he now had.

He stepped outside his room and saw that his father was not there.

"Good morning, Father," Rowan said as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good morning, son," Aldwin replied with a smile, walking away.

Rowan then noticed his mother, Mira, nearby.

"Good morning, Mum," he greeted.

"Good morning, dear," she replied warmly.

Making his way to the kitchen, Rowan found Elian already at work.

"Elian, good morning," he said.

"Come on, come on! Let’s go outside already! I want to start training," Rowan urged.

"I’m a bit busy," Elian replied, frowning slightly.

"Why can’t we? Please, just a little. I want to show you what I’ve learned. It won’t take long," Rowan insisted.

Elian paused, studying him for a moment.

"Alright... you’re brave, I’ll give you that," she said.

The two of them stepped outside, standing facing each other once more, ready to continue Rowan’s training in water magic.

Aldwin stepped outside and watched intently.

Elian stretched out her hand, and water arrows formed rapidly around her. Vroom, vroom, vroom! They shot forward at incredible speed. Rowan dodged each one with precise movements.

She’s really good, he thought, eyes widening.

She launched another volley, seven arrows this time, forcing Rowan to sprint and weave. One arrow followed him from the wrong angle, and he slammed it away with his hand. Another came too close, he swatted it aside with lightning reflexes. The arrows came fast, relentless, yet he managed to intercept them all.

"Time for ice arrows!" Elian declared.

Water in her hands solidified into ten razor-sharp ice projectiles, spinning around her before shooting toward Rowan at a dizzying speed. Vroom, vroom, vroom. They cut through the air. Rowan bent and twisted, narrowly avoiding the deadly shards.

One arrow curved around, aiming for his back, but Rowan reacted instinctively, smashing each ice arrow with a combination of elbow strikes and fist blocks. They shattered on contact, melting into water as they hit the ground. His movements were smooth, precise, and controlled.

Elian stepped back, smiling.

"You’ve improved a lot, Rowan. That was impressive," she said, watching him catch his breath.

Rowan grinned, feeling proud.

"Thanks... but we’re not done yet," he said.

Elian nodded.

"Good. But remember, you can’t just run. Water magic requires control. Stability. You need to understand the flow, the shape, the form. Only then can you truly use it."

"Well... cause I already did," Rowan said casually.