Investing in the Three Villainesses Gives Me Infinite Returns

The wooden sword came down, cutting the morning air with a dull whoosh before connecting to the practice post.

Elias Crimson gritted his teeth and pulled the sword back, his palms burning beneath the rough grip as sweat rolled down his forehead. He shifted his feet, steadied his breathing, and swung again with everything he had.

Thud!

The practice post barely moved.

Elias stared at it for a moment before tightening his grip.

Again.

He raised the sword, his legs screamed in protest, and his arms felt like lead, yet he swung.

Thud!

The result was the same.

The wooden sword struck the post with enough force to make his arms ache, but there was nothing impressive about the blow. It lacked speed, power, and technique. Any ordinary beginner who had trained for a few months could probably produce a stronger strike.

Elias lowered the sword and took several deep breaths.

He was twenty years old.

At an age when the talented members of the Crimson Ducal Clan were already making names for themselves, he was still struggling with the basics.

The Crimson Clan was one of the most prestigious noble families in the kingdom, renowned for producing warriors whose swordsmanship could shake battlefields. Children born into the clan were expected to begin physical training almost as soon as they could walk, and those with exceptional talent were given the finest instructors and resources available.

Elias had received all of those things.

He simply hadn’t been able to make use of them.

He looked down at his hands, which were covered in calluses and old scars.

How many times had he swung a sword?

Thousands?

Tens of thousands?

He had trained before sunrise, trained until his muscles were too exhausted to move, rested, and then trained again. He had memorized sword manuals, copied the movements of talented warriors, and repeatedly asked instructors to correct his technique.

Yet after all these years, his swordsmanship remained barely above that of a beginner.

Why?

The question surfaced in his mind again.

Why was he so weak?

He had no physical defect that anyone could identify. His body was perfectly healthy, his bones were strong, and his mana pathways were normal. He simply lacked talent.

It was as though the heavens had decided to give him everything necessary to become a warrior except the one thing that actually mattered.

Talent.

Elias let out a quiet breath and looked toward the enormous training grounds surrounding him.

Several practice arenas occupied the courtyard, each one reserved for members of the clan. Beyond them stood weapon racks filled with expensive swords, spears, axes, and other weapons. At the far end of the grounds was a stone platform where the clan’s elite warriors often demonstrated their techniques.

Elias had watched those demonstrations countless times.

He had watched his brothers, his cousins, and even younger members of the clan.

They all seemed to possess something he didn’t.

Something that allowed them to grasp techniques after seeing them a few times.

Elias could practice the same movement for months and still perform it poorly.

Perhaps he had simply been born wrong.

Perhaps some people were destined to shine while others were destined to live beneath their shadows.

And perhaps Elias Crimson belonged to the latter group.

He lowered his head.

For several seconds, he said nothing, then he shook his head.

”No.”

The word was quiet, but firm.

He wasn’t going to think like that.

He raised his sword again, his exhausted body protesting with every movement, and stared at the practice post.

”As long as I’m alive...”

His eyes hardened.

”I’ll keep swinging.”

He stepped forward and struck.

Thud!

”I don’t care if I don’t have talent.”

Another strike.

Thud!

”I don’t care if I’ll never become a great warrior.”

Another.

Thud!

”Even if I’m the weakest person in this entire clan...”

He raised the sword again, his shoulders trembling from exhaustion, and brought it down with every ounce of strength remaining in his body.

THUD!

”I’ll still swing.”

The words echoed across the empty training ground.

Elias stood there for a while, breathing heavily as his arms trembled.

He didn’t know whether his persistence would ever amount to anything.

He didn’t know whether he would ever become strong.

But giving up was something he simply couldn’t accept.

If he stopped trying, then there would be nothing left.

A faint sound of footsteps suddenly came from behind him.

”Brother.”

Elias turned around.

A young man was approaching from the entrance of the training grounds.

He looked around sixteen years old, with crimson hair neatly combed back and a handsome face that carried the natural confidence of someone who had never doubted his own abilities.

Lucian Crimson.

Elias’s younger half-brother. The son of the fifth lady.

Lucian stopped several steps away and glanced at the battered practice post before looking back at Elias.

”You’re training this early again?”

Elias rested the wooden sword against his shoulder.

”Lucian,” Elias mumbled.

”I’ve been watching you for a while.”

Lucian smiled, though there was a faint trace of amusement in his eyes.

”You’re certainly persistent.”

Elias said nothing.

Lucian looked at the practice post again.

”Although I’m not sure persistence is enough.”

The words were mild, but Elias understood the meaning behind them.

He had heard variations of the same insult for years. Still, he didn’t respond.

Lucian walked toward him and stopped several meters away.

”How about a spar?”

Elias raised an eyebrow.

”A spar?”

”Just a friendly one.”

Lucian spread his hands innocently.

”You’re my older brother, after all. It would be rude of me not to help.”

Elias studied him. There was something about Lucian’s smile that bothered him.

Lucian was already far stronger than him. Even if they were both using wooden swords, Elias knew exactly how the fight would end.

But refusing would make him look afraid.

And Elias had spent twenty years enduring the label of being weak.

He wasn’t going to add coward to it.

”Fine.”

Lucian’s smile widened.

”Excellent.”

Lucian took a wooden sword from the nearby rack, and then both moved into position.

Elias lowered his stance and focused his attention on Lucian’s movements.

The instant the two swords crossed, Elias felt the difference.

Bang!

Lucian’s strike slammed against his sword, forcing Elias’s arms backward.

Elias gritted his teeth and recovered just in time to block the next attack.

Bang!

The impact traveled through his wrists.

Lucian attacked again.

Elias stepped backward and blocked.

Left.

Right.

High.

Low.

Lucian’s movements were smooth and controlled, while Elias was forced to rely entirely on defense.

Every time Elias blocked one attack, another immediately followed.

He couldn’t find an opportunity to counter.

Still, he refused to retreat completely.

When Lucian swung toward his shoulder, Elias twisted aside, allowing the wooden blade to pass close enough to brush his clothes. He immediately counterattacked, swinging toward Lucian’s chest.

Lucian easily blocked it.

”Not bad.”

Elias didn’t answer.

He attacked again.

The two exchanged several more blows, their wooden swords clashing repeatedly across the training ground.

Elias was losing.

There was no question about it.

Lucian was faster, stronger, and more technically skilled.

Yet Elias continued to fight, forcing his tired body to respond whenever another attack came.

Then, suddenly, he saw it.

An opening.

Lucian’s right side was exposed. His sword had moved too far to the left, leaving his ribs completely unprotected.

Elias’s eyes sharpened.

Now.

He stepped forward and swung. But the moment his sword left its defensive position, Lucian smiled.

Elias’s heart sank.

It’s a trap.

Lucian shifted his body sideways, allowing Elias’s sword to pass harmlessly beside him.

Before Elias could recover, Lucian’s wooden sword slammed into his stomach.

BAM!

The air exploded from Elias’s lungs.

His body bent forward instinctively, but Lucian didn’t stop.

A second strike crashed into his shoulder.

BAM!

Then another struck his ribs.

BAM!

Elias stumbled backward, his balance completely gone, and Lucian delivered one final blow to his chest and sent him crashing onto the ground.

Pain spread through Elias’s body.

For several seconds, Elias could do nothing but lie there, struggling to breathe.

A metallic taste filled his mouth, and when he wiped the corner of his lips, his fingers came away red.

Lucian stood over him with the wooden sword resting against his shoulder.

”Brother...”

His expression looked almost disappointed.

”You’re too predictable.”

Elias clenched his teeth and tried to push himself up.

His arms trembled violently, but he managed to raise himself halfway before his strength gave out and he fell back onto the dirt.

Lucian sighed.

”I suppose that’s enough.”

He turned away, but paused after taking a few steps.

”Don’t take it too seriously.”

He glanced back with a smile.

”It was only a friendly spar.”

Elias didn’t respond.

He simply watched Lucian walk away.

Once his younger brother disappeared, Elias remained on the ground for several moments.