Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Chapter 442: My Party Members Have Free Will?!

After our armed sparring session, we trudged up to the main level. Yes, I had been practicing my weapon arts as well.

Michael had learned to wield blades directly from the Prince of Broken Swords, Xaldreth.

Sure, that was one hell of a cheat code, but his own natural talent was undeniably terrifying.

He excelled in redirecting the momentum of his opponent’s weapon to continuously throw them off-balance, making him someone not easy to trade blows with. I had seen Juliana using a similar technique.

But unlike her who mostly used it for defensive purposes, Michael used to combine that sneaky redirection with sharp, mechanically precise slices and thrusts.

These days, however, that surgical precision had dulled because of his blind spot.

Whenever I tried to close in from his right, he’d lose a fraction of a second repositioning himself to keep me in his left eye’s field of vision. Otherwise, his stance would crumble.

I’m sure someone more talented than me would’ve found a way to exploit that chink in his guard.

Not me, unfortunately.

Because even though Michael had to actively compensate for half his vision missing, he’d still find ways to push me back.

Every time I attempted zeroing from his blind side, he’d completely switch up his sword style, going from elegant deflections and accurate cuts to a brutal, almost barbaric frenzy.

His stance would go low and grounded like a sumo wrestler, and he’d swing his blade around like a club, tracing wide arcs that turned his entire right side into a meat grinder.

It was violent. It was effective.

And despite appearing like a wild scramble to anyone watching from the sidelines, there were virtually no openings for me to capitalize on.

A proper sword art with several different forms and transitions — in the game, I think it was called Iron Wall Flow.

Anyway, observing and sparring with these prodigies over the last few days made me realize the importance of mastering more than one combat template.

I mean, it’s obvious that the more tricks you have in your bag, the better. It would not only make you less predictable but also more adaptable.

But seeing firsthand how much of a difference it made in solo combat made me regret not spending more time learning from my family’s masters growing up.

Don’t get me wrong, I still loved my own way. I was proficient in the fundamentals of a variety of weapons and more than capable in bare-knuckle brawling. I also heavily relied on my power to turn the terrain itself against my enemies.

Yet, versatility without depth could only get you so far when you had to deal with monsters like Michael, Alexia, and Juliana.

And there were more like them in this world. Many more. I couldn’t always rely on my innate ability to cover up for my gap in actual skills.

Seeing Thalia made me realize one thing, at least. I also wanted to be strong enough to beat my opponents in their own games.

“What are you thinking?” Michael looked over. We were in the kitchen, punching in the command for the automated chef unit to prepare a much-needed post-workout meal.

“You need a new eye,” I said.

Michael’s hand paused over the touchscreen interface. He blinked his single eye at me, expression flat. “Groundbreaking medical diagnosis, Sam.”

“I’m serious,” I huffed, rubbing my throat where Alexia’s fist had left a dull ache. “Your sense of distance is messed up. In our third spar, you misjudged my thrust by a solid three inches. If I’d been aiming to kill, you would’ve taken a blade to the ribs.”

He gave me a look somewhere between bewilderment and weirded out.

I frowned. “What?”

“…You remembered I’m missing an eye?” Michael gave a mock gasp. “I thought my disability only existed to you when you needed inspiration for pirate jokes.”

“Oh, hilarious,” I rolled my eyes. “But really. That was a big slip. And there were more. I need you to be at your best, or at least very close to it, in the Mock War.”

This time it was him who frowned. “Wait, who said I’m fighting in the Mock War? And who said I’ll not join the royals? They are the royals, you know? How can a commoner like me oppose them?”

I flinched up from where I was leaning against the counter, nearly spilling the chalky protein shake I’d just grabbed from the dispenser.

I… didn’t even think about a scenario where he’d refuse to fight from my faction.

Not just him, actually…

Alexia, Ray, Kang, Vince — I took all of their inclusion for granted. Should I have properly asked?

It was the day of the finals already. Now it was too late. Wait, how was it even my fault? After all that we had been through, I just thought…

I assumed…

I… I didn’t know.

If Michael wasn’t on board, what about the others? Had I just gaslit myself into believing we were an inseparable anime squad forged in the Noctveil Wilds, while to them, I was still just the arrogant duke’s son who used to buy them trouble?

The silence stretched for a beat too long.

My mind was racing to throw out worst-case scenarios like a broken machine gun.

Then, as he must’ve seen me internally spiralling, Michael let out a sound. ​It started as a low snort, caught in his throat, before exploding into a full-blown, breathy laugh.

He leaned against the other side of the counter, shoulders shaking so hard he almost dropped his own drink.

​”Oh my god,” he wheezed, wiping a tear from his good eye. “Oh my god, look at your face! Did you think we’d leave you? Haa! Sorry, young master, but you’re stuck with us!”

I stood there, frozen. The panic that had just been clawing at my throat slowly melted into an intense, burning urge to commit a felony.

​”You piece of shit,” I seethed. “Now who’s making fun of whose disability?!”

“Abandonment issues aren’t a disability, Sam.”

“Fuck you!”

That prompted him to laugh even harder. I was contemplating whether to take out his remaining good eye or poke him about Lily.

But before I could decide between physical assault and emotional violence, he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Even with a single eye, I can handle anyone in our batch.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Even Juliana?”

He hesitated. “Okay, she can be a problem. But then it’s a good thing she’s on our side. And there is no one in our batch as talented as her, right?”

“Right,” even as I agreed, my mind, for some reason, wandered to what Casey had said.

I’ll be the one to tip the scales. I’ll be the one to decide the victor of this little Mock War.

She was full of shit. I kept telling myself that she was just posturing.

In the game, Casey Torr Snowrite was indeed a force to be reckoned with. She joined the heroes after Vince and Michael helped her find a cure for her condition.

Starting off as ruthless and aloof, she eventually warmed up to the main characters and became an invaluable asset during the later arcs.

If I’m being honest, she was actually one of my favorites. What made me love her was her fierce loyalty.

Once she deemed you deserving of her trust, she’d do anything for you, fall to any lengths or even walk into the jaws of hell. Despite her hard exterior, her devotion to her friends was unquestionable.

That trait alone made her a good character, but what made her great was her unmatched intellect and battle prowess.

Just like she had warned me, she really was capable of changing the tides of any war with her mind alone. To top off her strategic genius, her personal strength was equally awe-worthy.

Thanks to her family’s secret weapon art — the Glacier Splitter — that only a select few in the world could master, her blade was sharp enough to slice through anything.

But she learned that only after she was cured.

Right now, her poisoned body was miserably failing. She couldn’t properly control her Essence, leaving the legendary Glacier Splitter locked behind a wall of physical agony.

And while she was smart, she wasn’t yet the unstoppable force that everyone dreaded facing in the late-game stages.

In short, she wasn’t a threat for now.

She wasn’t.

…So then why was I constantly having this premonition that I shouldn’t ignore her?

For my own mental sake though, I didn’t get to dwell on it much. While I was lost in my own thoughts, Michael’s phone buzzed.

He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing down at the screen. “Oh?” He muttered in surprise.

I glimpsed him. “What?”

“Ray is back,” Michael said, turning his phone toward me. “And he’s hosting a welcome-home bash at his new place.”