Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 1 Basic Battle Qi
Kruse struggled to swing his sword on the training field, his tattered shirt soaked with sweat, his arms trembling with aches, but the pitiful fighting spirit within him remained like a flickering candle in the wind, difficult to muster.

The instructor's roars and the undisguised mockery of the other apprentice knights lashed at him like whips. His mind was a mess: hazy memories of his past life, physical exhaustion, and the suffocating feeling brought on by the heavy weight of his identity as "Reyes, the Lion's Son".

"Concentrate! Feel the energy within your body! It's written on the first page of 'Basic Battle Qi,' you idiot!" Old Raymond's roar exploded in my ears, accompanied by the mocking sounds of the other teenagers imitating a lion's roar.

At lunchtime, Kruse, carrying coarse black bread and bland bean soup, huddled alone in the far corner of the canteen.

A figure sat down heavily opposite him—it was Bran, the red-haired boy who had led the mockery of him on the training field.

“Oh, isn’t this our ‘Young Lion’?” Bran grinned, deliberately emphasizing the word “Young Lion.” “I heard the wheat in Lion’s Tooth Territory is growing well? What a pity, I wonder which ‘real’ knight will benefit from it in the future.”

His words were full of implications: if Kruse could not become a full knight, his father’s lands and title would likely be stripped or inherited by someone else in the future.

Kruse gripped the wooden spoon tightly, his knuckles turning white, but the weakness in his body and the discomfort deep in his soul left him powerless to refute.

Just then, a slight commotion arose at the entrance of the cafeteria.

The air seemed to freeze in an instant.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway. He wore fine but not overly ornate chainmail, over which was a robe embroidered with simple lion patterns, representing his family or personal emblem. The scabbard of the sword at his waist was old, yet it exuded an invisible sense of oppression.

His face was resolute, with features as sharp as if carved by a knife and axe. A hideous scar ran from his brow bone across his cheek, adding to his fierce appearance.

His thick brown hair and equally thick beard were now streaked with gray, but when his dark brown eyes swept over, they were as sharp as a hawk's, carrying a seasoned and scrutinizing air.

It was none other than "Lion" Reyes himself.

The canteen fell silent instantly, and all the trainee knights instinctively straightened their backs. Even the instructor, Old Raymond, bowed slightly in greeting.

Reyes's gaze fell directly on Kruze in the corner without any hesitation.

There was no anger or rebuke in that gaze, only a deep, cold disappointment.

Like a frozen lake in the dead of winter, it froze the last bit of hope in Kruse's heart.

Reyes's gaze lingered on Kruze's pale face and slightly trembling arms for only two seconds, as if he were looking at a defective object that had nothing to do with him.

Then, he looked away as if he hadn't seen anything, and went straight to the seating area reserved for the castle knights, where he began to talk quietly with several colleagues.

Those two seconds of staring made Kruse feel more suffocated than any scolding.

Bran let out a suppressed sneer from the side.

Kruse lowered his head, unable to taste his food.

He understood his core predicament in this world: he was not only a useless apprentice knight, but also a "disgrace" who brought shame to his illustrious father and could even jeopardize the future of his family.

That chilling disappointment, like an invisible wall, kept Reyes Lion out of Kruse's world.

The Golden Knight was busy with the Earl's military affairs and the trivial matters of Lion's Tooth Territory, neglecting his son and unaware that the "good-for-nothing" soul within him had long been replaced by another consciousness from another world.

The current Kruse is no longer the muddle-headed boy he once was.

The time he traversed was long enough for him to fully understand the cruel laws of this world. In this medieval fantasy continent where dragons soared, elves were abundant, and magic and battle aura shone, the chasm between classes was as deep as an abyss, flowing with blood and despair.

The nobles, high above all others, held the power of life and death, while the common people and slaves on the vast land...

In the eyes of those powerful figures, they are nothing more than breathing "two-legged sheep," resources that can be consumed and trampled upon at any time.

Kruze knew better than anyone that he had to cling tightly to this fragile lifeline—"Basic Battle Aura".

He trained himself almost to the point of self-torture, enduring every tearing pain in his muscles and every dizzying moment of failing to sense his fighting spirit.

The motivation is not some vague glory, but a raw instinct for survival.

He must truly master basic battle aura and cross the threshold of becoming an apprentice knight before his father—the "lion" who could fall at any moment on the brutal battlefield—collapses!
Only in this way could he be qualified to inherit the knightly fiefdom called "Lion's Tooth Territory" and retain the most basic layer of noble status as armor.

otherwise?

Kruze's mind conjured countless chilling images of the future: Reyes dying on the battlefield, and the Earl's decree reclaiming Lion's Tooth Territory.

And he, this loser who couldn't even condense a seed of fighting spirit, will be stripped of his apprentice knight status and swept out of the castle like trash.

He would no longer be the "Son of the Lion," but would only become a "miserable free knight apprentice" struggling in the mud, working for a few copper coins, barely surviving in the guard of mercenary groups or caravans, and possibly disappearing silently like a stray dog ​​on the roadside at any time.

Fate seemed eager to validate his fears.

After enduring just one more week of torment in the Earl of Nou Camp's castle, the war horns ripped the peace apart.

The Earl personally led a large army into battle, and unsurprisingly, Kruze was placed on the "repatriation" list.

The cold command was given: he was sent back to Lion's Tooth Territory.

The reason given was high-sounding: "Insufficient strength, not suitable to join the army for the time being."

These few words, spoken so casually, are like etching him onto a pillar of shame.

An even more glaring contrast is that of Bran, the red-haired boy who once led the mockery of him.

Bran, who was the same age as him, was now in high spirits, wearing the standard leather armor of the Maple Knights, with a sword at his waist, and setting off with the Earl's army.

Bran's smile and anticipation for the future, contrasted sharply with Kruze's somber figure as he walked alone down the desolate road back to Lionfang Territory, creating the most biting and suffocating irony.

One marches towards the battlefield and glory, while the other is banished back to a safe corner, silently licking the wounds of incompetence.

The wooden walls of Lion's Tooth Territory now seemed to him more like a magnificent prison, a reminder of his precarious position and the abyss that was so close at hand.

"Ding! The system has been activated. The newcomer farming task is now open: As the territory manager, you need to know everything about the territory. Please tour Lion Fang Territory to understand the number of fields in the territory and prepare for future development. Reward: 5 Energy Crystals."

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(End of this chapter)