As Mortis looked into the mirror, a 16 years old black-haired figure of medium build stared back at him. His crimson eyes—deep, like twin pools of blood. The reflection exuded an unmistakable air of nobility—his sharp features framed by disheveled midnight-black hair, shadowed by the dim candlelight beside the bed. A high-collared black coat, adorned with intricate golden embroidery, draped over his shoulders.
'Is this the present me? Mortis Nacht?'
His gaze lingered on the mirror, taking in every detail of his new body.
'Well… even though my physique is absolute trash, my appearance isn't half bad. It actually suits me pretty well.'
A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.
After memorizing his current appearance, he carefully pocketed the ornamented mirror into the left breast pocket of his coat. It was small enough to fit snugly, and despite his lingering doubts and unease of its dangers, he decided to carry it with him. If it truly held any connection to the original Mortis's death—or even his transmigration—he needed to keep it close.
With that settled, he took off his excess layers of clothing, including the coat where he had stashed the mirror, and moved to the center of the room.
And started with few push-ups for his workout.
One… two… three…
By the time he reached ten, his arms were trembling and his chest burning.
'Damn… I can barely do ten push-ups before I hit my limit. My endurance is really pathetic.'
He exhaled sharply, adjusting his approach.
'Alright, let's take it slow. Three sets of five reps, with short breaks in between. Step by step… I just need to be consistent, and I'll see results soon enough.'
Determined, he pushed through, switching to other basic exercises—squats, sit-ups, stretches—until his body was drenched in sweat.
By the time he was finished, an unbearable stench clung to him, thick and poignant. Even he was disgusted by it.
'Yeah, I need to wash up, now.'
After checking that he had at least the minimum of necessary clothes on him, because he didn't want to be mistaken for some pervert—he stepped out of the room and made his way toward the washroom.
Along the way, he looked through his memories, trying to recall what the washroom even looked like and where exactly it was. After all, they were in a carriage—there was no way they had an actual bath. Where would they even get that much water?
The answer came to him.
It was as basic as it could be. The washroom was divided into two sections: one for men, one for women. Though he had no clue what the women's section looked like, he assumed it was the same as section for men. Inside, wooden buckets filled with fresh water were placed along the walls, each accompanied by a simple towel for scrubbing. If someone wanted to wash, they had to take a bucket, soak the towel, and clean themselves as best as they could.
Functional. Nothing more, nothing less.
When Mortis arrived, he grabbed a bucket and went through the motions, scrubbing away the grime and sweat. The cold water sent a brief shiver down his spine, but he welcomed the sensation.
Once finished, he placed the bucket and towel near the entrance, where they were meant to be left for collection.
Refreshed and at least somewhat clean once again, he exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
'That's better.'
|>>======|✦|======<<|
Once he finished washing, Mortis returned to his room and put his clothes back on, including the coat with the mirror still tucked safely inside the pocket.
After ensuring everything was in place, he left his room once again, this time in search of Lethis. He started by knocking on his door, but silence greeted him. Clearly, no one was inside.
Frowning, Mortis turned around and made his way toward the largest room in the carriage—the same place where he had played poker with Lethis. It took him some time, but when he finally arrived, the first thing he saw was Lethis standing by the window, gazing outside.
Mortis walked up beside him and greeted, "Good morning, Lethis. How was your sleep?"
"Not bad," Lethis replied with a chuckle. "Though honestly, they really need to change these beds. They're so uncomfortable, it's a miracle I got any sleep at all."
Mortis smirked slightly before getting to the point. "How about a duel with wooden swords, Lethis?"
Lethis turned to him; eyebrows raised in surprise. "Huh… What happened to you? This is the first time you've actually taken the initiative. Normally, you'd scoff at something like this, saying it's beneath you or that it's a job for your servants."
Mortis let out a small sigh. "I figured it was time to reconsider some of my behavior and habits. I'm far from home now—I can't keep blaming my problems or responsibilities on my father, especially when he's not even here. There's no point in making excuses anymore."
Lethis stared at him for a moment before shaking his head with an amused grin. "I can't believe my eyes. In my entire life, I never thought I'd see you mature, Mortis." Then, crossing his arms, he added, "But are you sure about this? We're candidates for Magi Apprentices. Most Magi Apprentices and Official Magi don't use swords in combat. They rely almost entirely on spells—aside from a few rare exceptions."
"I know," Mortis admitted. "But even if most Magi don't use weapons, they still have some level of physical fitness and basic combat skills. I have neither." He paused before adding, "You've probably already noticed, but my physique and stamina are terrible. And there's another thing—I have no idea what the aptitude tests will involve, so it's better to be prepared than regret it later."
Lethis considered his words before shrugging, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Well, if you're that determined, I don't mind. But I won't hold back. After all, this is finally my chance to make you experience a real setback—though I suppose it's not necessary anymore, given your sudden change of heart."
Mortis smirked back just as slyly. "No problem. Let's start right away."
Glancing around, Mortis spotted a weapons rack filled with some wooden training swords and some real swords. Beside it was a slightly spacious area—just enough room for a duel. Without another word, he signaled for Lethis to follow him.
They each took a short wooden sword and stepped into the open space, standing opposite each other.
Lethis, still grinning, tilted his head. "We should set some rules first, so we know what's allowed and when to stop. After all, I wouldn't want to hurt you… at least, not too much."
Mortis matched his grin, his eyes flashing with a provocative glint. He let out a low chuckle. "Haha… Don't worry. The one who'll need mercy won't be me. Even with my terrible physique and stamina, I could still beat someone like you to death… my dear friend."
Lethis froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing as irritation flickered across his face. "We'll see who'll be the one begging for mercy… my dear friend."
Both of them shifted into their stances, carefully observing each other for an opening.
Mortis studied Lethis, waiting for any subtle movement. Then, he saw it—a slight shift in Lethis's grip, likely unconscious. Without hesitation, Mortis lunged.
Their swords clashed with a sharp crack, and for a brief moment, Mortis managed to push Lethis back. But the difference in their physical abilities quickly became apparent. Though Mortis had gained the advantage with his well-timed charge, Lethis quickly overpowered him, forcing him to stumble backward.
His initial momentum was wasted.
Mortis exhaled sharply and swung his sword again.
Lethis moved to parry, expecting a straightforward strike—but just before their blades connected, Mortis suddenly changed direction. Instead of following through with his vertical swing, he twisted his wrist and slashed horizontally, aiming for Lethis's shoulder.
The unexpected maneuver caught Lethis off guard. He hadn't expected that someone like Mortis would be capable to think of such a trick, let alone execute it so fluidly.
The wooden sword struck Lethis's shoulder with a sharp blow, making him wince in pain and take a step backward.
Mortis knew he wouldn't get another chance like that. Instead of recklessly pressing the attack, he stayed still, carefully watching Lethis's reaction.
Meanwhile, Lethis's thoughts raced. 'What the hell? What in the world was that? How did someone like him actually land a hit on me? Am I dreaming? No… It must've been luck. Even if it wasn't, it doesn't matter—I'll be more careful from now on, especially against that move of his.'
They locked eyes once again, each sizing up the other.
But Lethis wasn't patient enough in this fight and was the first to break the silence. He charged forward, bringing his sword down in a powerful vertical slash.
Mortis sighed lightly. 'For real?'
At the last possible moment, he fluidly side stepped—just as he had done multiple times in his past life on Earth during kendo practices. Lethis's sword cut through empty air.
Before Lethis could react, Mortis moved fast.
His wooden sword struck the back of Lethis's neck with pinpoint precision, right against his carotid artery.
Lethis's eyes widened in shock for an instant—then he collapsed.
Mortis immediately dropped his sword and caught him before he could fall to the ground. He carefully laid him down, kneeling beside him as he waited for him to wake up.