The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family

The morning sun cast long shadows across the White Lion’s courtyard as Klaus stepped outside. He spotted a few members of Team 55—some rubbing sleep from their eyes, others adjusting armor straps—already wandering toward the training yard. He felt the familiar tension in the air, a mix of fatigue and excitement after yesterday’s scenario drills.

Today, he intended to reverse the roles: those who had defended the chest would now be the attackers, and vice versa. It was a natural follow-up to the previous day’s exercise, forcing them to think from the opposite perspective and refine the synergy they’d begun to develop.

Klaus crossed the courtyard, noting that the fortress was already humming with activity—squads rushing to morning briefings, quartermasters distributing gear, scouts departing for perimeter checks. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of Kalix, the fortress’s captain, striding off with two officers in tow. The man appeared in constant motion, rarely staying in one place for long, which meant Klaus wouldn’t expect him to supervise Team 55 again anytime soon.

He reached the small training ground behind the barracks to find the broad-shouldered swordsman and a few others waiting. Alexandra was also present, arms folded. She greeted him with a simple nod, her expression alert despite the early hour. She’d been his quiet supporter—sometimes offering suggestions, other times just observing with that half-smirk of hers.

"Everyone here?" Klaus asked, scanning the group. They confirmed a few stragglers were still on their way. A mild annoyance flashed across the swordsman’s features.

"Guess some took last night’s victory as an excuse to sleep in," he muttered. "Not that it was a clean victory."

Klaus exhaled softly. "We’ll start once they show up."

Moments later, the final two team members shuffled in, apologizing under their breath. Klaus gave a curt nod, then wasted no time.

"Yesterday, defenders stopped attackers from removing the chest—but it was close," he said, his voice projecting across the small yard. "Today, we swap roles. Defenders, you’re now the attackers. Attackers, you’re defending." He paused, locking eyes with various squad mates. "Remember the improvements from yesterday. Communicate, anticipate, adapt."

A few fidgeted, glancing around. The broad-shouldered swordsman—on the defending side this time—rolled his shoulders, ready to guard. Alexandra, on the attacking side, spun her rapier once, testing its balance. She seemed oddly eager, maybe looking forward to flipping the scenario.

Klaus directed them to place the chest at the yard’s center again. The new defenders clustered around it, forming an imperfect semi-circle. The new attackers spread out, scanning for vantage points. This time, the plan was for him to let them run the scenario mostly uninterrupted—he’d intervene only if something went awry or they repeated glaring mistakes from yesterday.

Round One:

A hush settled. Then, a young woman with a spear signaled the opening move from the attacking side. Instantly, half the attackers charged in a feint, trying to draw defenders forward. The broad-shouldered swordsman barked instructions to hold formation, remembering how chaotic it got last time. They managed to resist the impulse to chase the feint—partially, at least. One or two defenders shuffled forward, leaving a small gap behind them.

That small gap was exactly what Alexandra exploited. She slipped around the flank, leading a pair of attackers in a swift push toward the chest. Klaus noted how the defenders, though improved, still tended to clump up when a threat appeared. By the time they realized the flankers were grabbing the chest, a hectic scramble began.

Swords and spears clashed. The broad-shouldered man turned in time to intercept Alexandra’s rapier, forcing her back, but her companions snatched the rope on the chest and tugged it a few paces before defenders lunged in. A frenzied tussle ensued, culminating in both sides tangling over the chest until Klaus called, "Pause!"

They separated—panting, exchanging heated glances. Klaus walked the perimeter.

"Defenders, good job staying put at first, but you let one side peel away," he said. "Attackers, you recognized that gap and exploited it." He pointed at a lean swordsman on the attacking side. "You hesitated to commit once the flank engaged. If you’d joined, you might’ve forced a second gap."

The swordsman ran a hand through his hair, nodding in realization.

"Reset," Klaus ordered.

Round Two:

They repositioned the chest. Klaus gave a brief signal to continue. This time, the defenders responded faster to feints, not stepping away from the chest unless absolutely necessary. The attackers attempted a two-pronged approach—Alexandra led one prong, a younger crossbow-user led the other. Enjoy new chapters from NovelBin.Côm

The broad-shouldered man was more vocal this time, calling for a pivot so that the defenders rotated as a unit. The synergy was better than before, and they managed to repel Alexandra’s push effectively. However, the crossbow-user’s group nearly succeeded on the opposite flank, dragging the chest to the edge. A last-second interception by a quick-footed defender saved it.

Klaus let them clash for a good two minutes. Both sides were sharper but also visibly frustrated by near misses. At last, he halted them again. They paused, breathing hard, checking for bruises or small scrapes.

"You can see the difference from yesterday," Klaus remarked. "Fewer people stepping on each other’s toes, more calculated movement." He gave a satisfied nod. "Though the chest hasn’t fully crossed the boundary yet, the attackers keep getting close. Defenders, lock down both flanks or you’ll stay in constant crisis mode."

A short exchange of nods and quiet discussion followed. Alexandra panted lightly but grinned. She shot Klaus a challenging look, as if to say she was still determined to break the defenders’ line. He suppressed a faint smirk—her competitive streak was in full force.

Round Three:

They dived in for another attempt. Each side refined their strategy. The defenders spread out in a tight ring, forcing the attackers to pick a specific point of assault. This unity created a nearly impenetrable shield around the chest. Meanwhile, the attackers tried a layered approach: a false frontal charge, a hidden flanker, and a near-simultaneous push from behind.

The moment the false charge engaged, the defenders braced. The flankers dashed in, grabbing the chest. The broad-shouldered swordsman roared a warning, pivoting too late. Alexandra swooped in from the opposite side, helping wrest the chest away. For a tense five seconds, it looked like the attackers would succeed. Then a defender slammed into the rope-holders, tangling them in a messy collision that spilled everyone onto the ground.

Klaus stepped forward. "Stop!"

Gasping attackers rolled aside, defenders scrambled to re-form. The chest sat halfway toward the boundary, rope trailing behind. A hush fell over them, broken only by ragged breathing. This time, the scenario was too chaotic to call a clear outcome—everyone had ended up in a dogpile.

He motioned for them to gather around, sweat pouring down their faces. "What happened?" he asked, letting them articulate the breakdown. Slowly, they realized it wasn’t just one side messing up. Attackers overcommitted, defenders missed cues, and collisions happened. They talked in half sentences, analyzing the scramble.

The broad-shouldered swordsman finally let out a long exhale. "We nearly lost it, but then we just… panicked, and everyone got tangled." @@novelbin@@

Alexandra brushed the dirt off her sleeve, nodding. "We forced an opening, but it turned into a pileup. If we’d spaced ourselves better—"

"Exactly," Klaus said. "You had the right idea, but your spacing collapsed. Communication matters even in the final push."

Though sweaty and frustrated, most wore expressions of grudging respect. They saw the potential for winning or losing hinged on details like spacing, signals, or who watched the rope. This was precisely the lesson Klaus wanted them to learn.

***

After letting them catch their breath, Klaus wrapped up the session. "We’ll incorporate these insights into group drills later," he said. "Take a short break, then meet in the main yard for standard practice."

Groans mixed with relieved sighs. People drifted away to gulp water or sit for a moment. Alexandra sheathed her rapier, stretching her arms overhead. "That was more intense than yesterday," she admitted, voice light but breathing still uneven.

"Progress often is," Klaus replied, scanning the yard. The broad-shouldered man caught his eye, gave a brief nod, then headed off to join two others, presumably to talk strategy. Klaus felt a small surge of satisfaction—Team 55 was growing more cohesive day by day.

* * *

An hour later, they reconvened in the fortress’s main training yard for more conventional drills. This time, Klaus divided them into smaller subgroups, each focusing on a specific skill they’d messed up during the scenario. One subgroup practiced angled defenses to avoid collisions, another honed short-range communication signals, and a third repeated a two-person synergy drill designed to maintain spacing under pressure.

Klaus floated between subgroups, offering pointers. He demonstrated subtle footwork changes, the timing of a parry, or the exact pitch of a shouted signal. The broad-shouldered swordsman found a rapport with a younger partner, the two practicing pivot moves that prevented friendly collisions. Alexandra helped correct a few stances, employing her usual directness.

Kalix never appeared, but Klaus half-expected that. The fortress was large, and the captain had countless responsibilities. Perhaps he was aware of Team 55’s slow improvement from daily reports, or maybe he simply trusted Klaus to handle it. Either way, the day ended with an exhausted but more unified squad.

As dusk settled, Team 55 trudged back to their barracks, conversation surprisingly upbeat. People recounted the comedic pileup from earlier, teased each other about close calls, and asked Klaus for details on what tomorrow’s training would entail. He answered succinctly—he had more scenario ideas, plus refined synergy drills.

Inside the barracks, the tension of two days ago was noticeably reduced. The broad-shouldered swordsman even sank onto a bunk near Klaus and muttered, "We’re getting better, but it’s still messy."

Klaus inclined his head. "Messy is normal. We’ll keep tightening the screws until it feels natural."

A half-grin flickered across the man’s face—almost an acknowledgment of partnership. "Right."

Elsewhere, Alexandra tossed a small towel into a corner hamper. She caught Klaus’s eye and strolled over. "They’re listening to you more," she observed softly.

He glanced around. "They’re listening because they see tangible results. If we keep this pace, we’ll be a functional team soon."

She nodded, then added with a smirk, "Oh, and don’t forget—we’ll probably get tested by every squad out there. White Lion’s crawling with people itching to measure themselves against the ’emperor’s golden boy,’ the ’youngest Swordmaster on the continent,’ or, my personal favorite, the ’baby squad leader of White Lion.’ Honestly, Klaus, do you ever get tired of collecting titles?"

Klaus shrugged, unperturbed. "Let them come."

***

Before long, the lanterns dimmed, and the barracks quieted as teammates fell into weary slumber. Klaus sat on his bunk, mind cycling through the day’s progress. They’d nearly reversed roles flawlessly—though it ended in a comedic collision, it wasn’t total disarray. People were starting to trust each other’s calls. Tomorrow, he’d likely up the complexity or attempt a partial mission-like objective with more moving parts.

He settled back, listening to the muted rustle of blankets and the faint chatter from a few night-owl squads outside. Even as exhaustion tugged at him, he felt a growing sense of satisfaction. Team 55 was no longer just a group of individuals forced together; they were inching toward real synergy.

His final thought as he drifted off was whether Kalix had taken note of the improvement. Whether or not the captain saw it firsthand, the results would become clear soon enough—Team 55 wouldn’t remain near the bottom of White Lion’s ranks for long if they kept refining their teamwork.