The World's Strongest and Most Evil Noble Strives Humbly and Diligently ~ Using Knowledge of the Original Story and Unique Magic to Avoid a Destruction End ~ - Chapter 1.2: Reincarnation as the Villain

Chapter 1.2: Reincarnation as the Villain

With his guidance, I can train in swordsmanship with maximum efficiency.

(Is it already 1 PM? At this hour… would he be tending to the trees in the garden?)

Just as I was about to head to Orvin, I caught sight of the large mirror installed in the room.

“…Amazing, it’s really Hollow von Heisenberg.”

Hollow von Heisenberg, age nine.

Medium-length red hair, the back left to grow long and loosely tied with a hair ribbon. About 135 centimeters tall with a lean, well-toned physique. His crimson eyes shimmer like jewels; his finely shaped nose and vibrant, sharp mouth form a strikingly beautiful face. He wears a chic navy jacket and simple black trousers.

(The original Hollow really has such a handsome face…)

His personality, though? Pure trash.

I lightly tidied my hair, straightened the wrinkles in my clothes, and stepped out of the mansion. As I walked through the vast garden, occasionally glancing around, I soon found Orvin diligently pruning the trees.

(Wow… it’s really him!)

Orvin Dunkelt, 63 years old.

Standing at 185 centimeters with short, clean white hair and a deeply chiseled face. His large, stern eyes and neatly trimmed white beard complement his powerful build, evident even through his tailcoat.

“Orvin, uh—” Cough “Orvin, do you have a moment?”

I swallowed the honorific that almost slipped out. Calling someone the same age as my grandfather without respect felt awkward, but I’d have to get used to it.

“Master, how may I assist you?”

“I need a favor. This is sudden, but I want you to teach me the sword.”

“What?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, it’s just… for Master Hollow to ask rather than command…”

Come to think of it, Hollow never asked for anything. He always gave orders with an air of superiority.

“Ah, right, I did mess up there.”

“Ahhh!”

“What now?”

“Master Hollow admitting his own mistake…!”

“…”

I was speechless. This was worse than I thought.

At the same time, I understood. This truly was the vile person Hollow had always been.

(For now, I’ll play the part of the lazy, arrogant Hollow.)

If I suddenly became too kind and reasonable, people would grow suspicious. Earlier, the maid Sistie had already looked at me with considerable distrust. I decided to maintain Hollow’s typical demeanor—dropping honorifics and speaking imperiously—while gradually softening my behavior.

“Orvin, teach me the sword.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but… what brought this on?”

“Nothing much, just a whim.”

“I see.”

Accepting the characteristically Hollow-like reply, Orvin nodded and led me to the training ground, where we grabbed practice swords with dulled blades.

“I’d like to start with the basics, but knowing Master Hollow, I assume you prefer real combat.”

“Eh? Oh, uh… of course.”

It didn’t feel like the kind of atmosphere where I could ask to start with the basics.

We stood three meters apart, swords at the ready.

“Shall I begin?”

“Yeah, anytime.”

And so, the mock battle began.

Three minutes later—

“Hmm, well, that’s about what I expected.”

“Im-impossible…!”

I calmly sheathed my sword while Orvin knelt on all fours, staring at the ground. Our positions clearly reflected the outcome of the fight.

(Even I find this absurd…)

Hollow von Heisenberg was far more than I imagined.

Immense magical power, overwhelming physical strength, and a devilishly sharp mind—his basic abilities were ridiculously overpowered. In truth, Orvin was strong. His swordsmanship far surpassed mine in technique.

But the sheer combination of magic and raw strength completely overpowered his refined skills. It was as if I were a gorilla and Orvin, a squirrel. The difference in physical capability was just too vast for technique to make any difference.

(Even after defeating a strong opponent like Orvin, I don’t feel like I’ve leveled up.)

Based on my memories, Hollow’s current level should be around five. Defeating Orvin should have boosted me by at least ten levels, yet there was no such sensation.

Instead, the sword now felt more natural in my hands. Without a status window or any sign of leveling up, I concluded that strength in this world must depend on “proficiency.” Progress here seemed to rely on consistent practice.

Nice. That suits someone humble and diligent like me.

As I thought this, Orvin muttered bitterly under his breath.

“…Impossible… this can’t be…”

It was understandable. Losing to a beginner who had just picked up a sword was devastating.

But I couldn’t let him misunderstand. I only won because of my innate strength and magic. In pure swordsmanship, I couldn’t even hold a candle to Orvin.

(Accumulating victories like this likely fostered the arrogance and overconfidence that turned Hollow into such a tragic monster…)

Even geniuses who neglect effort will lose to hardworking ordinary people. Talent, no matter how great, is wasted if not refined.

(Conversely, a hardworking genius becomes the strongest! I’ll cast away all complacency and grow stronger the right way!)

For that, I needed Orvin’s help.

“Orvin, how many years have you honed your sword?”

The words slipped out naturally, just like Hollow in the original story.

“…I have dedicated my entire life to this…”

Orvin spoke in a voice filled with despair.

Born with almost no magical power, he had trained tirelessly and, by the original story’s timeline, attained one of the highest levels of swordsmanship skills.

His straightforward nature was noble and beautiful.

For someone like me, who aspires to humility and steadiness, he is a role model.

However—Hollow in the original story mocked Orvin at this point.

“Pfft, hahahaha! A sword you dedicated your life to? What a lightweight life that must have been!”

With nothing but scorn and ridicule, he broke Orvin’s spirit and trampled on his lifelong path of the sword.

I won’t waste such an opportunity.

“A sword dedicated to a lifetime, huh? No wonder it’s beautiful.”

“…What did you say…?”

Orvin looked up, astonished.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said your sword is beautiful.”

“Wh-What are you saying…? My sword is nothing but an insignificant tool. Lord Hollow’s sword is far superior—”

“No, my sword is useless. It’s just me waving around my magical talent, completely devoid of reason.”

“Th-That’s absolutely not true…”

“Don’t give me such transparent flattery. If you had the same amount of magic as I do, would you be swinging such an awkward sword?”

“…(That’s true… Lord Hollow’s swordsmanship is far from praiseworthy. If I had his overwhelming magical power, I would never fight in such a crude manner.)”