The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

Dawn broke with a faint orange haze over the White Lion’s massive courtyard. Klaus was already up by the time the first shafts of sunlight spilled across the barracks’ stone floor. He quietly laced his boots, keenly aware of the murmur of activity around him—Team 55 members stirring, yawning, exchanging sleepy greetings. The tension from yesterday hadn’t vanished, but there was a focused energy in the air. They knew Klaus would be running a more advanced drill today, and curiosity was catching up to their lingering doubts.

He stepped outside to find a mild breeze stirring the fortress flags atop tall watchtowers. Over the parapets, a few early patrols passed in hushed conversation, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. White Lion never truly slept—some squads trained well into the night, while others began at dawn. But in this early hour, the bustle was subdued.

One by one, Team 55 assembled in the smaller training ground behind their barracks. The broad-shouldered swordsman arrived with his usual guarded expression. A lean, sandy-haired fighter took a post near the fence, arms folded. Others milled about, exchanging quiet words. Alexandra appeared last, finishing a quick stretch of her shoulders.

Klaus scanned them. "We’ll do scenario-based training today," he announced without preamble. "A lot of you can execute stances and combos just fine in isolation, but how does that hold up when there’s a mission objective?"

They exchanged glances. The broad-shouldered man arched an eyebrow. "Go on."

Klaus paced before the group. "We’ll simulate a small-scale infiltration scenario. Half of us will be the ’defenders,’ holding a designated supply point. The other half will be the ’attackers,’ aiming to breach defenses and secure a target. Think of it as a test of coordination under pressure."

He gestured to a large chest in the corner—likely filled with weighted sacks or training gear. "The chest will represent our objective. Defenders must prevent it from being moved outside a marked boundary. Attackers have to seize it and carry it out."

A flicker of interest lit some eyes. This was more dynamic than simply repeating stances. They’d see how real-time decisions and synergy mattered.

Klaus continued, "Keep it realistic but no lethal strikes. We’re not here to injure each other. I’ll observe and step in if anything gets out of hand or if rules are broken. Understood?"

A chorus of nods—some eager, some reluctant. He quickly split them into two teams of roughly equal numbers, mixing weapon types. The broad-shouldered swordsman ended up on the attacking side, while Alexandra, with her rapier, stayed on defense. Klaus positioned himself as a neutral observer, standing slightly off to the side to watch the interplay. It was their synergy, not his personal prowess, that needed testing.

* * *

The "defenders" dragged the chest to the center of the yard. They formed a semi-circle, swords and spears raised, scanning for potential flanking angles. The "attackers" fanned out, showing the typical White Lion competitiveness—some tried stealth, edging along the perimeter, while others prepared to charge head-on.

Klaus watched carefully. He noticed the defenders occasionally losing track of the flankers, and the attackers not coordinating their feints. Already, he could see a dozen small breakdowns. That was the point of this exercise: to expose cracks under the pressure of a scenario.

A hush settled across the yard. Then the attackers moved.

At a shouted signal, two spear-wielders lunged forward, clashing with the defenders in a rapid flurry of strikes. Meanwhile, a pair with lighter weaponry circled around, aiming for the chest from the side. The broad-shouldered swordsman hung back momentarily, analyzing before making his move. Smart. He wasn’t the type to rush blindly.

The defenders responded with mixed discipline. Some held formation well, funneling the spear-wielders into a choke point. Others faltered when the flankers appeared, leaving gaps the attackers could exploit. Alexandra guarded the chest directly, pivoting smoothly to intercept any who got too close. Her rapier flickered in quick arcs that forced the attackers to back off.

Klaus paced around the edges, arms folded. He saw defenders stepping on each other’s toes. Attackers sometimes crashed into each other’s lines of movement. There was no shortage of chaotic scuffles. But here and there, he glimpsed potential—two defenders spontaneously covering each other’s blind spots, or a pair of attackers choreographing a feint that nearly succeeded.

Within minutes, they reached a tipping point: the defenders had stalled the main assault, but the broad-shouldered swordsman launched a bold move at the chest, timing it right when Alexandra was drawn into a side engagement. He lunged low, hooking one end of the chest’s rope. A dagger-wielder assisted, tugging on the rope from the other side.

"Stop them!" a defender shouted, struggling to pivot.

Alexandra whirled around, managing to intercept the dagger-wielder with a strike that forced him to drop the rope. But the broad-shouldered swordsman nearly succeeded in dragging the chest out of the boundary before a spear-wielding defender blocked his path.

Breathing hard, the swordsman was forced to drop his attempt and backpedal, waiting for another opening. The defenders re-formed around the chest, several panting as they tried to maintain coverage. The attackers circled, regrouping for a second push.

Klaus stepped forward. "Pause!" he called, voice firm. The simulated mission froze in place, though a few gave each other uncertain looks. "Let’s break down what just happened."

***

Some wore expressions of annoyance at the interruption, but Klaus pressed on. "Attackers, your coordination was uneven. A good feint on the left, but the center push lacked a follow-up. You nearly succeeded anyway because the defenders are also out of sync." He turned to the defenders. "You bunched up too tightly around the chest at times, leaving the flanks open."

Alexandra, arms on her hips, huffed softly, though not in disagreement. The broad-shouldered swordsman exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "We’re still figuring out each other’s positions," he muttered.

Your adventure continues at NovelBin.Côm

"Exactly," Klaus said. "So let’s refine. Defenders, keep at least one person in direct contact with the chest at all times. The rest spread out enough to see flanks but remain close enough to regroup. Attackers, coordinate a false push. Don’t all fight at the same plane—someone needs to remain free to grab the chest once defenders commit."

They reset, tension returning as each side adapted. The second attempt was sharper. The defenders spaced themselves more intelligently, and the attackers feigned an assault through the center, forcing defenders to cluster. Meanwhile, the swordsman and a partner flanked from the opposite side, nearly managing to drag the chest out. But Alexandra reacted swiftly, calling for help. Two defenders peeled off in time, forcing the swordsman to relinquish the rope once more.

Klaus let them clash for another few minutes before calling a final pause. This time, both sides panted heavily, sweat dripping. Some flashed frustrated glances at each other, but a spark of understanding was emerging.

"All right," Klaus said, stepping into the middle. "You improved in the second run. Attackers coordinated better, and defenders covered flanks. But you’re still not anticipating each other’s moves. Let’s run it once more before we call it."

Grunts of acknowledgment followed. The broad-shouldered swordsman flexed his arms, as if preparing to redouble his efforts. Alexandra and a spear-user adjusted their positions around the chest.

In the third run, synergy blossomed. The attackers executed a dual-feint that forced defenders to split. A quick pivot from the defenders, led by Alexandra, sealed one feint but left a small gap on the opposite side. The swordsman capitalized, hooking the chest. But a defender’s well-timed tackle disrupted him. In that scramble, the chest nearly tumbled out of bounds, but not quite. The defenders squeaked out a victory by the slimmest margin.

Exhilaration and exasperation mingled in the yard as Klaus called the exercise to a halt. People collapsed on the ground or propped themselves on their weapons, hearts pounding. Even Alexandra looked winded, though a faint grin tugged at her lips.

***

Once the dust settled, Klaus gathered them in a circle. "That last attempt showed better synergy. Some big improvements in reading each other’s cues." He gestured at the two defenders who’d managed to block the final push. "You recognized the feint faster, which saved the scenario."

He turned to the attackers. "You almost got it. Another second and the chest would’ve been out. If your rearguard had pressed a second front, defenders wouldn’t have recovered in time."

He paused, letting them absorb the feedback. The broad-shouldered swordsman wiped sweat from his brow. "So we lost each round, but it was close," he said tersely.

"You did well," Klaus replied. "Winning or losing is less important than exposing weaknesses. Now we know a lot about our group’s timing and coverage."

A hush fell. Despite losing, the attackers looked thoughtful. Some defenders seemed proud of their success, though they also recognized the near-misses. Alexandra, leaning on her rapier, gave Klaus an affirming nod.

"All right, we’ll keep refining. Tomorrow we’ll invert roles—attackers become defenders and vice versa," Klaus continued. "For now, let’s call it. Rehydrate, then meet back in the main yard for standard drills."

They dispersed in a wave of exhalations. The mood was cautiously optimistic—both sides had glimpsed progress and synergy, even if it still felt rough around the edges. The broad-shouldered swordsman lingered behind, quietly retrieving a water flask from the yard’s edge.

Klaus approached him. "You fought well," Klaus said mildly. "Your flanking approach nearly worked."

The man shrugged, sipping from the flask. After a moment, he lowered it. "It’s harder than I expected to coordinate. We’re used to small duels or standard formations, not all this scenario stuff."

Klaus nodded. "Exactly why we’re doing it. Real missions are fluid. The fortress wants squads who adapt."

The swordsman studied Klaus with cautious respect. "Not bad… leader." His tone was guarded, but it was the first time he’d used the word "leader" without evident sarcasm.

Klaus didn’t smile—he merely accepted the mild acknowledgment. "Let’s keep building on it," he said, then walked off to supervise the rest.

***

Off to the side, Alexandra sheathed her rapier, eyes tracking Klaus as he moved to speak with a couple of defenders. She noticed how some listened intently, while others maintained a hint of stubbornness. Still, the difference from yesterday was tangible: they at least accepted his guidance.

She remembered Klaus dissecting every combat scenario she’d described to him during her visits to the annex mansion with a cool, analytical approach. That same methodical style was emerging here, forging a sense of structure in a place that thrived on competition. She found it both reassuring and slightly unnerving. He wasn’t just strong—he was relentlessly logical.

"You look deep in thought," came a voice from behind. It was a younger team member, a female, panting from the scenario. "Never seen the squad so… engaged."

Alexandra shrugged. "He’s thorough. That’s for sure."

"And the big guy?" The woman jerked her chin toward the broad-shouldered swordsman. "He’s loosening up, right?"

"Seems so," Alexandra said. "We’ll see how tomorrow goes."

Once they’d all had a short break, Klaus assembled the team again in the main yard for standard drills. This time, he broke them into smaller groups, working on movement synergy. He focused on footwork patterns and quick reaction calls—shouts like "left shift" or "rotate"—so they learned to pivot in unison. Some grumbled at the repetition, but Klaus calmly insisted. By the end, their timing had improved noticeably.

Though the day was long and the fortress sun was merciless, a tangible energy pulsed through Team 55. People talked more openly between sessions, comparing notes. The broad-shouldered swordsman even assisted a junior member with stance corrections, something Klaus hadn’t seen before.

Kalix never showed up to watch—no surprise, given his heavy workload—but Klaus sensed that the captain would eventually hear how the scenario training went. If Team 55 kept improving, word would spread among the ranks. It might invite new challenges, too.

***

By dusk, the yard was draped in a soft orange glow, shadows stretching long. Team 55 stumbled back to the barracks, fatigued yet with an undercurrent of satisfaction. Klaus followed behind them, taking in their expressions—some exhausted, some thoughtful, a few even smiling as they recounted close calls from the scenario.

As they entered the barracks, people peeled off to their bunks or rummaged for fresh clothes. Klaus quietly approached the mission board, eyeing the older entries again. They’d once been a decent squad, then slid into mediocrity. He wondered how far he could push them—and how soon they might face a real mission that tested everything.

Alexandra stepped up, pulling out a cloth to wipe sweat from her brow. "So, day two done. You think they’re improving fast enough?"

Klaus set his jaw. "They have to. The fortress runs on ranking updates, and from what I’ve gathered, we might get a reevaluation sooner than expected. If we fail, we remain stuck at the bottom."

She gave a low chuckle. "No pressure."

He glanced at her, a faint glimmer in his eyes. "Pressure’s good."

Their short exchange hung between them. Then Alexandra nodded. "Get some rest. We’ll need it."

Night settled over White Lion once more. In the barracks, the hum of conversation slowly gave way to yawns and dimming lanterns. Klaus sat on his bunk, absently checking his sword’s edge—more out of habit than necessity. He replayed the day’s scenario, mentally cataloguing how each member had performed. @@novelbin@@

He felt no triumph yet, only a sense of incremental progress. They were closer to functioning as a unit, but nowhere near polished. Tomorrow, he’d invert the roles: defenders turned attackers, forcing them to think from the other perspective. He’d keep layering complexities until synergy became second nature.

A few bunks over, the broad-shouldered swordsman caught Klaus’s eye, gave a small nod. Klaus nodded back. It wasn’t a friendship, but it was a start.

Quietly, he let out a breath, settling in for the night. The path ahead was long, but for the first time, he sensed Team 55 might truly unite. If they kept at it, they could become the formidable force Kalix intended them to be—and, in the process, Klaus would solidify his new role as more than just a famed swordsman.

In the hush of the darkening barracks, Klaus allowed himself the smallest flicker of satisfaction. Tomorrow, the trials continued, and he was ready to meet them head-on.