Damn Reincarnation

After Genos escorted Eugene down, he told Eugene to wait there for a bit and then left to go somewhere.

He returned before too long, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Eugene had no idea what this guy was trying to do with those and just stared at Genos with a bewildered expression.

“The statue?” Genos prompted.

“...Ah, yes,” Eugene quickly agreed.

Without asking any questions, no matter how much he wanted to, Eugene pulled the statue and the memorial stone out of his cloak.

Right away, a trail of tears started streaming down from Genos’s bloodshot eyes once more. No matter how you looked at it, there was no way that these tears were just caused by conjunctivitis.

After Genos had stared at the statue and the memorial stone for quite some time, he bowed his head and got onto his knees. Then, with a careful hand, he placed the bouquet of flowers and the bottle of wine down in front of the memorial stone.

Next, Genos first filled a glass to the brim with the wine and placed it in front of the memorial stone. Then he poured a glass for himself and chugged the wine down all by himself.

Looking at this scene, Eugene felt like he had no choice but to seriously consider the question, ‘Could this bastard really be my descendant?’

But it couldn’t be. This was Genos Lionheart. He was Captain of the Second Division of the Knights of the Black Lion, and he was definitely Vermouth’s descendant.

Eugene began speculating, ‘Could a descendant that I didn’t even know about… have gotten married to one of Vermouth’s descendants in order to produce this brat…? No, there’s no way that could be the case. I definitely never had any children.’

It wasn’t like Hamel hadn’t had any experience with women, but he had never left behind any offspring. On top of that, after becoming one of Vermouth’s companions, he had never slept with a woman. Sienna and Anise had been keeping their eyes peeled open right next to him whenever the possibility came up, Vermouth and Molon had never shown any interest in going out to have fun at night, and Hamel also wasn’t the type to sneak out and go enjoy the nightlife.

No matter how much he thought about it, this meant that there was no way he could have left behind any descendants. But then, just what was this bastard doing, offering flowers and alcohol in front of Hamel’s statue and memorial stone while he cried his eyes out?

“...Ahem,” after watching Genos for a few more moments, Eugene let out a low cough.

During this short amount of time, Genos had completely emptied all of the alcohol in the large bottle of wine he had brought with him.

‘This ill-mannered bastard. He only offered me a little splash of wine, then he actually drank the rest of it by himself?”

Although Eugene had this thought, honestly speaking, he wasn’t displeased by all this. Eugene forcefully stilled his twitching cheeks and stared down at Genos’s back.

“Sir Genos… um… just what kind of relationship do you have with Sir Hamel?” Eugene finally asked the question that had been burning him on the inside.

“...” Genos, who had been quietly weeping without letting out any sobs, turned his head towards Eugene.

While wiping away the tears running down his cheeks with the back of his hand, he let out a long sigh.

“...I am Sir Hamel’s disciple,” Genos revealed.

What kind of crazy talk was this?

Eugene barely managed to swallow the cry before it could burst out from his lips. Then he looked back through all the memories from his previous life.

A disciple? In his past life, he had never once taken in someone as his student. During the time when he had become famous as a mercenary, there had been quite a few people who had come to him, asking to be taught how to use a sword or how to survive on the battlefield; at that time, however, Hamel had been so drunk with self-satisfaction that he had held no intention of dragging around the burden of someone less talented than himself, let alone teaching them.

“....Um… I’m not quite sure I understand what Sir Genos is talking about. Sir Hamel is someone who died three hundred years ago, isn’t he? From what I’m aware of, he didn’t leave behind any descendants, nor did he have any disciples to pass down his teachings,” Eugene pointed out.

“Strictly speaking, what I’ve learnt doesn’t come directly from Hamel,” Genos readily admitted.

But then why was he calling himself Hamel’s disciple?

“...As with all collateral branches, it comes as no surprise that my family line also split away from the direct line. But my distant ancestor happens to be Vermouth’s second son,” Genos revealed.

Three hundred years ago, Vermouth had taken more than ten partners and had raised many children. That had marked the beginning of the Lionheart clan. It was unknown what Vermouth had been thinking, but after a certain point, he had started to seriously consider how to preserve his bloodline and secure the purity of his lineage; fortunately for him, among his many children, Vermouth’s eldest son was unquestionably the best.

In fact, even if the eldest son hadn’t been as exceptional as he was, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Because as long as Vermouth was determined for his eldest son to succeed him and personally provided his guidance, even if his son had been born crippled, he would have been able to instill in his son unparalleled skills that would have made him incomparable to his other brothers.

In any case, the eldest son had successfully taken over as the next Patriarch after Vermouth, and his many siblings had left the main estate to found their own collateral branches.

Genos continued his explanation, “My ancestor may not have been able to become the Patriarch, but it seems that our great ancestor still took good care of him. According to family traditions, my ancestor wasn’t allowed to pass down the White Flame Formula to his own children, but he was able to pass down a different legacy instead.”

“...And what does that have to do with calling yourself a disciple of Hamel?” Eugene persisted.

“The Great Vermouth taught my ancestor Sir Hamel’s techniques,” Genos finally revealed as he wiped his damp eyes and raised his head proudly.

Unable to think of what to say, Eugene could only move his lips soundlessly.

Eventually, he wheezed out, “...Sir Hamel’s techniques?!”

“...There’s something that I would like to ask you,” Genos said as he got up off of his knees, holding the empty wine bottle. “By any chance, could it be that you have discovered a secret manual written by Sir Hamel in his tomb?”

“...Huh?” Eugene grunted in confusion.

“Back then, I was watching as you and Sir Carmen faced each other,” Genos confessed. “In truth, it wasn’t really long enough to be called a serious confrontation, but it was enough for me to get a glimpse of your absurd skills.”

“...So what are you trying to say?” Eugene asked for clarification.

“The technique you used to divert Sir Carmen’s fists,” Genos took a deep breath before continuing, “That… that seems almost identical to one of Hamel’s techniques that has been passed down from our family’s founding ancestor. But among the many branches of the Lionheart clan, ours is the only family that should have inherited Sir Hamel’s techniques.”

“...,” Eugene stayed silent.

“It is an inimitable technique that cannot be used without deep comprehension and control of mana, along with a genius instinct for battle. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you use it earlier, but if you have been to Sir Hamel’s grave… then it’s not completely out of the question. If you happened to have obtained Sir Hamel’s secret manual from his grave, it all makes sense,” Genos seemed confident in his theory.

Eugene’s head was spinning in circles. So what Genos was saying was that three hundred years ago, that bastard Vermouth had decided of his own volition to teach Hamel’s techniques to his descendants?

‘That motherfucker. If you were going to teach it, you should at least have taught it to the direct lion; why teach it to your second child who couldn’t even become the Patriarch?’

Well, now that his techniques had already been taught without his permission, it wasn’t like it mattered whether or not Eugene accepted that decision. Smoothing away his twisted expression, Eugene looked Genos in the eyes.

Having calmed down, Eugene asked, “...I don’t mind answering your questions, but there’s something that I can’t quite understand. Why did our great ancestor pass Sir Hamel’s techniques to his second child, the one who couldn’t become the Patriarch?”

Eugene didn’t feel like he could just allow his doubts and complaints to be buried. He wasn’t sure if Genos, a distant descendant, would even know the answer, but for now Eugene just decided to try and ask.

“Because the direct line has no need for such techniques,” answered Genos.

“So it was because Sir Hamel’s techniques were seen as inferior to the White Flame Formula?” Eugene questioned resentfully.

Genos nodded in satisfaction, “Indeed, you really have uncovered Sir Hamel’s secret manuals.”

How had his words been twisted into a confirmation of Genos’s suspicions? Eugen glared at Genos without voicing any objections, but Genos just nodded, confident that his guess was correct.

“If that wasn’t the case, then you would have no reason to show such irritation because of that choice,” Genos pointed out.

‘You son of a bitch, the ‘reason I have to show such irritation’ is that I AM HAMEL!’ Eugene barely swallowed the angry shout that was about to burst out of his throat. Since it was impossible for him to blatantly reveal his secrets, however, Eugene decided to just allow Genos’s misunderstanding to go unchallenged.

Genos suddenly changed the subject, “...These days, the Knights of the Black Lion are around to take care of the clan’s dirty messes, but do you know who would have filled this role three hundred years ago?”

“...Huh?” Eugene grunted.

“As the clan went through several generations and the number of clan members increased, the number of dissident elements inevitably increased at the same rate. Soon enough, there were those who proved themselves unworthy of claiming to be our great ancestor’s descendants. The ancestor of my branch of the family was the first Black Lion to be charged with the duty of punishing such fools,” Genos revealed.

Eugene understood what Genos was implying by these words.

So Vermouth took his second son, who wasn’t able to become the Patriarch… and raised him to a hunting dog to keep both the main family and the other collateral branches in line.

Even though the Knights of the Black Lion might be called a knightly order or whatever, at their core, they were just vicious hunting dogs.

Eugene couldn’t help but be lost in thought for a moment, wondering what he should feel about this revelation.

‘This means Vermouth decided that, with my techniques, those hunting dogs would be able to stand up to the renegade users of the White Flame Formula from both the direct and collateral lines.’’

Or at least that was how Eugene could think of it if he wanted to put a positive spin on Vermouth’s sections; from a negative point of view, Vermouth had just passed on his late friend’s skills to his pet hunting dogs in order to make them more efficient predators.

‘That rotten bastard. If you were going to screw me over like that, you could have at least gotten your children to put up a statue of me in their homes,’ Eugene complained as he tried to calm the irritation boiling up within him.

Genos had nothing more to say as he calmly gazed at Eugene’s face and waited for a response.

“…About the techniques that your family inherited from Hamel… It wasn’t just parrying, was it?” Eugene probed.

“Ignition,” Genos said abruptly, without any warning.

By doing so, Genos had hoped to provoke a reaction from Eugene, but Eugene’s face didn’t show any sign of surprise.

‘Vermouth, you son of a bitch.’ Although he outwardly didn’t show any reaction, on the inside, Euguene was verbally chewing Vermouth out.

For now, he decided to pretend ignorance, “...And what is that exactly?”

“It’s a technique where you intentionally accelerate the mana in your core,” Genos explained. “Because of its dangers, the technique is rarely used.”

Having confirmed what he wanted to know, Eugene asked, “...Why are you interested in knowing if there was a secret manual?”

“If you do have a secret manual in your possession, I request that you surrender it to me,” Genos honestly replied.

“And why should I hypothetically surrender it to you?” Eugene continued pressing.

Genos repeated, “I’ve said this before, but Hamel’s techniques are extremely difficult to learn. Even if you can see through the theory behind them, it would be difficult for you to imitate them with your body. It isn’t so easy to teach them either. However, if you happened to have found a secret manual, then I could—”

“To start off with, let’s get the order of seniority straight,” Eugene said, suddenly interrupting Genos. “From a certain point of view, you could say that I am the direct disciple of Sir Hamel, so if we put ourselves into the order of seniority, wouldn’t that mean I am of a higher rank than Sir Genos?”

“...What?” Genos muttered in confusion.

“That means I am the senior disciple, and you, Sir Genos, are the junior disciple. Although you may have been born a few decades earlier than me, if you truly consider yourself to be Sir Hamel’s disciple, then you need to accept me as your Senior Brother,” Eugene insisted.

“What are you saying all of a sudden…? Hold on. Do you mean to say that there really was a secret manual in Sir Hamel’s tomb?” Genos eagerly picked up on Eugene’s hints.

But Eugene quickly disappointed him, “I burned it after memorizing it.”

“What? Why?!” Genos burst out in protest.

“If I didn’t do that, then what else was I supposed to do with it? Didn’t you hear me talking about it earlier? I almost died in that grave. It was already a stroke of luck that I managed to find that — here, Eugene paused guiltily — that secret manual. I was risking my life by fighting a Death Knight, remember?”

These words caused Genos’s eyes to waver in shock.

“...Hold on. Does that mean you were able to use Sir Hamel’s parrying technique only a few days after you discovered the secret manual?” Genos questioned incredulously.

“I’ve always been good at parrying,” Eugene said as an explanation.

“That’s ridiculous,” Genos rejected his excuse. “Sir Hamel’s parrying is a completely different technique from ordinary parrying—”

“It seems that you don’t know much about me, but you should be aware that I was exceptional enough to be adopted into the main family, and I am the youngest genius among all the geniuses who were given permission to enter Akron.” Although it felt a bit embarrassing to make these claims with his own lips, everything that Eugene had said was the truth, “So then, what are you going to do? If Sir Genos accepts me as your Senior Brother, then I would be willing to compare the secret manual that I have stored in my head to the techniques belonging to Sir Hamel that have been passed down through Sir Genos’s family. That way, you might be able to fill in any missing content.”

Unable to think of what to say, Genos’s lips twisted soundlessly.

At first, Eugene had felt offended by this guy who claimed to be his disciple when he had never even granted him the right to do so. But that being said, Eugene couldn’t find it in himself to dislike Genos. After all, wasn’t Genos the only person in this world who was carrying on Hamel’s legacy?

‘He even offered me flowers, and shed tears for me,’ Eugene recalled with gratitude.

From this, it seemed that Genos truly admired Hamel and respected him as his master. Because of that damned fairy tale, Hamel had been looked down upon and called the ‘Stupid Hamel’ for hundreds of years, so Eugene couldn’t help but feel pleased at finding someone who still respected Hamel enough to consider themselves his disciple.

“...Could you truly have memorized that entire secret manual?” Genos asked doubtfully.

“If you’re not going to believe me when I say it, why even bother asking[1]? Just trust me,” Eugene demanded.

Reminded of how Amelia Merwin had kept probing him, Eugene couldn't help but be annoyed as he thought of how that damn bitch had spoken to him so rudely.

“...Do I need to call you my Senior Brother in front of others?” Genos asked hesitantly.

This was a very important issue for Genos. Even amongst the Knights of the Black Lion, Genos was famous for being strict and difficult to handle, and as the Patriarch of his own family branch, he needed to protect their reputation as well.

“If that happens, I will also be placed into a troublesome position, since I might be forcefully questioned about our relationship…. You can just leave that for when it’s just the two of us,” Eugene charitably allowed.

“...Um…,” Genos let out a low hum as he fell into thought.

After considering it for a while, Genos finally nodded his head and said in a very embarrassed tone, “...Senior Brother.”

“Good choice, Junior Brother. But just how long are you going to keep me waiting here? You said that you were going to guide me to my room, so when exactly do you plan on showing me the way there?” Eugene immediately accepted the appellation without any sense of discomfort as he packed the statue and memorial stone back into his cloak.

Genos’s cheeks twitched at Eugene’s quick change of attitude from respectful to condescending. However, he didn’t dare to snap at Eugene, so he just ground his teeth in anger.

“Were you grinding your teeth just now? Does my attitude bother you? Don’t you think that you’re being a bit too disrespectful of your Senior Brother?” Eugene was quick to criticize his newfound Junior Brother.

Genos reluctantly gritted out, “...My apologies….”

“I understand that this might be a bit embarrassing and difficult to adapt to at first, Junior Brother. However, I hope that you get used to it as quickly as possible,” Eugene encouraged.

“...,” Genos just kept his silence.

Eugene prompted him once more, “So when exactly are you going to start leading me to my room?”

Eugene’s room was in the front keep of the castle, set apart from the rooms where the Knights of the Black Lion and the Elders of the Council resided. Since it would take a few more days for Cyan to finally arrive at the Black Lion Castle, until then, the only ones residing in this section of the castle were Eugene and the castle servants.

“Let’s start things off with you reciting all the techniques that have been passed down through your family, Junior Brother,” Eugene said as soon as they arrived at his room and he had gotten comfortably seated.

“...There are a total of ten techniques that have been passed down from the founder of our line,” Genos slowly revealed.

There’s actually ten of them?

On the inside, Eugene felt surprised by this, but he just nodded with a calm expression and asked, “So what are they?”

Slightly suspicious, Genos paused before continuing, “...As Senior Brother should already know, since you have seen the secret manual, Sir Hamel’s techniques are founded on the use of mana, not weapons. As such, their usage cannot be limited by whatever weapon you wield—”

Eugene interrupted him, “LIke you said, I already know about all that. So why don’t you just tell me what the ten techniques are already?”

‘Did I really have ten techniques?’ Eugene asked himself doubtfully.

No matter how much he scratched his head, Eugene really couldn’t understand what this claim was based on. In the first place, the only technique he had developed in his previous life that he felt was significant enough to attach a name to was Ignition, everything else that he had used in battle was just him fighting according to the situation and what he had on hand. So which bastard had come up with ten techniques to be passed down through Genos’s family?

Increasingly doubtful, Genos finally recited, “...The ultimate technique of the Hamel Style, Ignition.”

“Hamel Style…? What the hell is that?” Hamel demanded.

“You mean you don’t know? The Hamel Style is everything that our great ancestor taught to the founder of my family,” Genos explained.

“That name, could it have been… our great ancestor who personally attached that name to this set of techniques?” Eugene asked resentfully.

Genos shrugged, “I can’t be sure about that myself, but from the very beginning, the name that has been passed down through our family is the Hamel Style.”

Eugene dropped his face into his hands as he was overcome by embarrassment, ‘Vermouth…. Vermouth, you son of a bitch. If you were going to stick a name to it, you should have chosen a good one. But of all things you went with Hamel Style…? Were you insane?’

Ignoring Eugene’s preoccupation, Genos continued, “Hamel Style Number 1: Mana Parrying.”

“...,” Eugene silently allowed him to continue.

“Hamel Style Number 2: Thousand Thunderclaps.”

“Oh motherfuckeeer,” Eugene couldn’t bear to keep listening and had to clap his hands over his ears in shame.

Watching this, Genos tilted his head with a puzzled expression on his face and asked, “...Senior Brother? What’s the matter?”

“No… this is… fuck… aargh… just… just keep going,” Eugene finally bit the bullet and ordered Genos to continue.

Thousand Thunderclaps? Thou-sand Thun-der-claps?

‘When exactly did I come up with a skill like that?’

No matter how much he rifled through his memories, Eugene couldn’t recall a single moment when he had ever shouted ‘Thousand Thunderclaps’ while swinging his weapon.

1. In the original text, Genos’s question starts out with using the informal tone and ends with a formal tone. This doesn’t translate well into English, so this alternative was used. ☜