LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 4: Secret Journal
There was complete shock felt by the young man, as it felt as though a cannon had shot directly against his body. Just coaxing air into his lungs felt like a Herculean effort.
"Back off!"
The commanding words were forced from his panicked lungs, engulfing the old man in its meaning.
[Hypnosis failed.]
[EXP: +1] [27/50]
Yet, the hypnosis was not deemed successful, only seeming to produce a debilitating headache for the lord.
"Nnnrgh—!" Lord Mather groaned while holding his head.
The spontaneous migraine gave the young man more than enough time to hop to his feet and regain himself.
"You…you must be an assassin hired out to get my riches. Who is paying you? Tell me?!" The burly, old man asked in a rage as he dashed forth with a head of bulging veins.
All Blake could do was back up through the hall before pivoting to the right just as the old lord slammed his fist forth. Straight through the wooden wall, the man's fist pierced.
'That would've been my skull…!' Blake thought, looking over at the daunting realization.
As the angered lord struggled to pull his hand free from the wall, the young man ducked past him just as his other arm swiped by.
"Be stronger, dammit!" He muttered to himself harshly at the pressing situation.
It was at that moment that he watched the muscle-bound geezer pluck his hand from the wall and turn to him with a fiery rage.
That command given to himself flourished into just that—an order.
[Hypnosis Successful.]
[EXP: +5] [32/50]
'What is this?' The confused thought met his mind.
It didn't occur to him what was said and the meaning it had, coming back to him as a personal command:
["Self Hypnosis"]
["Be stronger!"]
His own words replayed in his head as a change occurred; he felt his muscles tighten and fill with an unknown vigor.
Strength he never felt swelled in his body, feeling his arms and legs become empowered.
'Is this adrenaline—? No, it's much more than that,' he questioned.
As he stepped down, he felt the muscles in his legs coiling before he launched forth with a powerful step.
Without putting much thought in what to do, he simply drove his fist in front of him. His knuckles slammed into the sternum of the old lord, taking the man by surprise as saliva spat from his mouth.
"Pyuh—?!" Lord Mather spat out.
It was something that couldn't be braced for. A quick, potent assault that came from the one that the elder saw as "weak."
Blake watched as the mountain of a man was slid several meters away by his wild punch.
'Holy shit…I did that?!' He realized.
It wasn't enough to quite bring down the powerful elder, who puffed out his chest and flexed as if pushing the pain away.
"So…you've got some kick to you. I can see that now!" Lord Mather said through an exhale, "Nonetheless! I shall deal with you promptly!"
Through an absurd degree of muscularity, the suit worn by the elder began to tear as he flexed further.
Blake readied himself, clenching his fist as he whispered to himself, "…Be faster!"
[Hypnosis Successful.]
[Five experience points gained.] [37/50]
As the burly lord of the estate rushed towards him like a raging bull, a weightlessness infused itself through his body.
Off of his right foot, he pushed off in a dash. The burst of speed caught both the elder and himself off guard, as he didn't even manage to make a proper fist.
Instead, he let his shoulder slam straight against the burly man's stomach.
"Pyah—!" The elder spat the air from his lungs.
The mix of strength and speed was enough to send the old man flying back, crashing through the doorway he had come from.
Blake caught his breath as he looked at the aged lord, who was wheezing for air himself.
He could feel the vigor in his muscles leave, as if deflating, though that did not stop him from walking over to the floored man.
Standing over the lord, he spoke the words he came to say, "From today on, I am your prized nephew that you've signed all your assets to—"Blake Mather."
[Hypnosis successful.]
[EXP: +20]
[Level Up!] [2 —> 3] [7/75]
[New Skill(s) Obtained: "Weapon Persuasion"]
The elder picked himself up, brushing himself off as if only suffering a minor fall, "Ah…My dear nephew, I see you're still greeting your uncle as harshly as ever."
Elder Mather gave a gentle pat on the head to the shorter adolescent.
It was somewhat jarring just how effective the hypnosis was. One moment, he was brawling to the death against the old man, and the next he was treated like family.
"…I need a glass of water," Blake remarked, breathing out as he felt his own stomach, still feeling the earlier blow.
Elder Mather stroked his beard with a hearty laugh, "Freja will bring you a beverage soon enough. Now then, why don't we sit down for dinner?"
"Sure," Blake accepted, following beside the towering man.
The elder man stopped, turning back as he looked the adolescent up and down, "Hmm…"
"What is it?" Blake asked.
"Your attire. It's…not up to par with the standards of a nobleman. You can find a change of clothes down the hall, in your room," Elder Mather pointed towards the other end of the corridor.
He nodded his head, accepting the suggestion, though confused at the existence of a room belonging to him.
"Sure."
"I'll be waiting in the dining room. I take it you'll want your usual—hrm…what was it again? My memory must be failing me at my age, forgive me," Elder Mather asked, scratching his head.
Blake thought about it for a moment, finding his stomach grumbling at the idea of a warm meal, "A steak dinner."
"Ah, of course! A juicy steak! I'll have the chef whip up the best in the world," the older man claimed.
With that, he was left to approach the room designated to him.
'Must've been a guest room, before the hypnosis…Maybe,' he thought.
As he entered the bedchambers, what he found didn't simply look like a guest room. It certainly looked like a personal space, going by the scattered books on the desk and another object—a scabbard with a sword sheathed in it.
"What's all this?" He mumbled to himself as he picked the sheath up.
It had a weight to it, forcing him to put some muscle into it as he slid the broadsword from its hold. Though he was hardly a connoisseur of weapons, the pearlescent steel of the blade stood out as beautiful to his eyes.
Spotless enough for his reflection to be seen in it, he tucked the scarlet-handled sword back into its scabbard.
As he checked through the drawers, he found a change of clothes right away.
A black, flared coat with matching pants and a crimson dress shirt beneath. He slid his feet into sturdy, steel-toe boots and his hands into silken, black gloves.
All of it fit perfectly; scarily so.
'This was someone's room, wasn't it?' He questioned.
After fully dressing himself, he sat down at the desk for a moment, finding a book without any text on its cover—a journal:
"Journal of Kaleb Mather II."
The name stood out to him as he looked flipped open the writings to a random page:
"Before my expedition to the Emerald Mountain. Uncle Johannes was hesitant about letting me go there. He used to be an adventurer himself, but even a large man like himself failed to reach its summit.
It's atop there that the King's Insignia for this region can be found…That's how I'll enter the Tournament of The Chosen King."
There were many things that stood out to him from the passage, though he discerned an important factor:
'Uncle Johannes…That must be the Lord Mather. Hold on, does he think I'm this person…his actual nephew, Kaleb? What happened to him?' He thought.
Upon further curiosity, he found the battered journal held only blank pages beyond the one he read. The concept of the "Tournament of The Chosen King" stood out to him, though no further information was found.
He stood up, deciding to sling the scabbard around his back, buckled over his chest.
"Time for dinner, I suppose," he mumbled to himself.