Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

136 Lessons in Perception

William tilted his head in confusion.

Felicia sighed and readied her stance.

"It's faster to show you. I'll attack—defend as best as you can."

William nodded and steadied himself.

Even if they shared the same sight, reality wouldn't change.

He could see her movements.

He could see where she would strike.

There was no way she could catch him off guard.

Or so he thought.

Fwip!

"…!"

In an instant, she closed the distance, moving faster than he could process.

Before he could even react, the cold touch of a wooden sword pressed against his throat.

"Did you see it?"

"…I saw it," William admitted. "But I couldn't react in time."

"Exactly."

Felicia lowered her weapon, smiling.

"This 'sight' is not all-powerful. If you become too reliant on it, you'll ignore when you should retreat. Just because you see the attacks doesn't mean you can block them."

"So, knowing the attack patterns can lead to false confidence?"

"Precisely. A regular knight would immediately recognize an overwhelming difference in skill and find an alternative approach. But if you rely on 'seeing' the attacks, you'll think you can handle them when you really can't."

William let the lesson sink in.

It was true.

If this had been before, he would have instinctively dodged instead of trying to counter.

But now?

Now that he could see everything, he had foolishly stood his ground—and lost before he could even react.

It was a lesson he would not forget.

"Of course," Felicia continued, "you won't always be able to avoid a fight. Sometimes, you'll have no choice but to face stronger opponents."

She smiled as she readjusted her grip on the wooden sword.

"Which is why I'll teach you how to use these eyes properly."

"…Properly?"

"Mana flow doesn't just reveal attack patterns," Felicia explained.

"It also reveals tremors, distortions, and fluctuations in energy."

She focused her vision, demonstrating what she meant.

"When you see these details, you can gauge an opponent's speed, power, and intent."

William mimicked her actions, and suddenly, the details became clearer.

What was once a simple flow of energy now revealed subtle variations—tiny, almost imperceptible shifts.

"Not bad," he admitted. "But it's a bit hard to process. Everything feels… too delicate to track in real-time."

"You'll get used to it with practice," Felicia assured him.

William narrowed his eyes.

"Practice? How?"

Felicia smirked and took a step back, raising her wooden sword.

"By fighting. A lot."

William frowned.

"…You're not seriously going to just start hitting me, are you?"

Felicia's smirk widened.

"My father had a saying."

Her tone was calm, almost too calm.

"Without the pain of failure, there is no progress."

William's stomach dropped.

"…"

"Now then," Felicia said sweetly.

"Let's begin."

William watched Felicia's mana surge like an explosion, and for the first time since his regression, he felt a flicker of regret about one of his choices.

"That's enough for today."

"Ughhh…!"

The moment Felicia declared the training over, William let out an involuntary groan.

It had been a full week since their special training had begun.

At this point, he had been hit so many times that he could no longer tell which parts of his body hurt the most.

'Or maybe… they all hurt equally because I haven't not been hit anywhere?'

Felicia's training had been far more brutal than he had anticipated.

Even William—who had initially proposed it—found himself on the verge of swallowing his pride just to beg her to stop.

The problem?

It worked.

'If I weren't improving, I'd quit immediately. But every single day, I can feel myself getting better… so I can't stop.'

Despite his complaints, William couldn't deny that the results were astonishing.

In just one week, he had fully adapted to using his enhanced sight.

He could now not only predict movements but also sense their force, momentum, and even how an opponent might respond.

His swordsmanship had also improved—not in technique, but in reaction speed and coordination. His hands and eyes were now perfectly in sync, and his reflexes had sharpened to a terrifying degree.

'At this rate, I don't need to rely entirely on overwhelming power anymore. I might actually be able to hold my own in an extended duel instead of aiming for a decisive single strike.'

Felicia, as if reading his thoughts, gave him a stern look.

"Do not fall into the trap of arrogance," she warned.

William met her gaze, nodding.

"I won't. I know that just because I've gotten stronger doesn't mean I should recklessly seek out battles to test myself. As you've repeatedly told me…"

He recited her words back to her:

"If you would have avoided an enemy before, you should still be cautious of them even after growing stronger."

Felicia's expression softened.

"Good," she said. "I trust you to be cautious."

William wasn't a knight obsessed with duels or proving his strength.

He was a strategist—one who aimed to win the war, not every individual battle.

Sometimes he made reckless gambles, but never without a plan.

Felicia knew that about him.

"That said," William added, "I'm just considering the possibilities. Relying only on explosive power has its risks. If an opponent is skilled at countering such attacks, I could end up on the losing end. It's good to have more options."

Felicia nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. Locking yourself into a single style is dangerous. A wise fighter adapts to the battlefield."

Seeing his calm and calculated response, Felicia finally allowed herself to smile.

A warrior who rushed into battle to test their own strength was one who died early.

Many promising knights had fallen before they could make a name for themselves simply because they lacked discipline.

William was different.

He had ambition, but he wasn't reckless.

Even when he took dangerous risks, he always had a plan.

At that moment—

"Young Master."

William turned to see Hans approaching, his expression serious.

"The Grand Duke has summoned you."

William quickly washed away the sweat from training and changed into fresh clothes before making his way to his father's office.

Yet even as he walked, one question kept nagging at him.

'This is… unexpected.'

His father never summoned him for private meetings like this.

The competition for the successor's seat was still ongoing, yet calling William alone?

Anyone who saw this would immediately assume the Grand Duke had already chosen his heir.

This wasn't the kind of mistake his father usually made.

'It doesn't match his usual approach…'

William frowned.

'Is this because of the Krefeld Rebellion?'