How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

The news that my father would personally come to see me was bewildering at first, but when I delved deeper, it made sense.

It’s not like I’m a distant relative—his own son nearly faced danger because of demon worshippers.

And now I’ve decided to learn martial arts because of that.

Who could refuse?

Especially my father, who is naturally inclined to martial arts and enjoys teaching them.

When I was younger, he gave up on me because I was too frail, but he has consistently practiced martial arts himself.

All these reasons combined explain why he rushed to the academy as soon as he heard the news.

Of course, part of it might be to escape the mountain of paperwork piling up every day, but the bigger reason is his genuine concern.

Thanks to my steady physical training, I don’t need any extra conditioning.

All I need to do is learn martial arts from my father.

I don’t aim for profound enlightenment or any accompanying honor. I just want to be capable of minimal resistance when all my shields are gone.

“Got it. So, you’re saying I should aim precisely for the vital points to subdue my opponent?”

“Pardon?”

But it seemed my father interpreted ‘resistance’ in a completely different way.

I widened my eyes at him, standing solemnly with his arms crossed.

He had come to the academy just one day after sending his reply.

Thanks to the mage stationed at the mansion, such rapid travel was possible.

After listening seriously to my story, the first thing he said was that. To me, it sounded like telling a toddler to start running before they could even walk.

Even though I’m clueless about martial arts, I know how much effort and talent it takes to accurately target vital points.

“Uh… Father? I said resistance, not subjugation.”

“If someone’s targeting you, they’re likely not an easy opponent. Do you really think resistance will be enough?

It would be more efficient to aim for their vital points to incapacitate or render them completely powerless, even temporarily.”

“… …”

Coming from someone experienced, his words carried even more weight.

As my father pointed out, anyone targeting me would be far from ordinary.

Like the demon worshipper who used magic at the academy, I could be ambushed in completely unexpected situations.

Even if the ambush failed, they’d likely possess superior physical prowess, and in the worst-case scenario, there might even be radical demons among them.

“…Fine. So, instead of the family’s traditional martial arts, you’re teaching me self-defense, right?”

“It’s far from self-defense. This is strictly military combat technique. I’d love to teach you the family’s secret techniques, but…”

My father gave me a regretful look, his golden eyes shimmering like he was gazing at an unpolished gem.

I could only offer an awkward smile under that gaze.

If it were the frail me from the past, maybe, but now, with divine power bolstering me, my physical hardware was on par with a knight’s.

If I added well-designed software to that, I could undoubtedly become an outstanding knight. However, that’s not my current intention.

‘I’m inherently a writer.’

I exercise purely to survive and to satisfy the women I’ve been intimate with.

They say distance dulls feelings; I have to train to fulfill the responsibilities of my choices.

Beyond that, I’m not inclined toward physical activity.

To be precise, I’m hesitant about wielding a weapon to harm others.

The only reason I’m learning martial arts now is the unavoidable issue of demon worshippers. If not for them, I’d have stopped at simple workouts.

“I’ll learn it later when the opportunity arises. It’d be odd not to, as your son.”

“Alright. To be honest, the secret techniques aren’t much. Just grab a suitable battle axe and swing it. That’s it. Axes are inherently easier to use than swords.”

Easier said than done.

Watching my father, Dave, and Nicole all this time has taught me just how absurd that claim is.

It’s true that axes are simpler to handle than swords, as my father explained.

Their weight distribution focuses on the blade, restricting their use and simplifying their operation.

However, that’s only true when used crudely, like a barbarian.

Our family is different.

We don’t just wield weapons; we mix in hand-to-hand techniques to confuse the opponent.

Moreover, the sheer impact of an axe’s powerful strike often forces the opponent to block, which directly leads to victory.

Even if they manage to block, the blow’s force disrupts their balance.

In other words, defending against the axe puts the opponent at a disadvantage. To win, they must evade or deflect every strike while seizing control of the fight.

If a skilled swordsman embodies “If you don’t know, you’ll get hit,” our family demonstrates “Block it, and you’ll die.”

Despite its raw power, the technique isn’t sluggish—it’s quick and precise.

“Anyway, before I teach you martial arts, remember this one thing. Sir Cross and the escorts will protect you, but if you ever find yourself alone, always run.

Never think of fighting. Trust your stamina and endurance to escape to the end. That’s the best someone unskilled in martial arts can do.”

“Do you think I can actually escape?”

“Fully escaping might be difficult. But with luck, you might succeed, or at least create an opening for a counterattack. Ambushes are effective even against the most skilled opponents.”

Before moving on to practical training, my father offered various pieces of advice.

Perhaps anticipating the worst scenarios, every word carried the weight of experience.

Normally, these lessons would be learned through practice rather than words, but circumstances didn’t allow for that.

If I had known this future awaited me, I’d have started training earlier.

Who could’ve guessed the “Chronicles of Xenon” would gain such popularity? And the future promises even more.

As I listened quietly, my father began meticulously teaching me about vital points, from commonly known areas to places even I wasn’t aware of.

Some spots, if struck properly, could be life-threatening with a single blow.

A question suddenly arose, so I paused to ask.

“Father, I have a question.”

“Ask away. You’re free to ask anything.”

“Um…”

Before speaking, I glanced at Adelia, who was watching nearby.

She wasn’t wearing her maid uniform but instead donned athletic clothes for easy movement.

Marie wasn’t here today, saying she had something to do. When I asked, she mentioned getting a message from Cecily.

Cecily, upon hearing that I was threatened by demon worshippers, immediately sent a message.

She wanted to rush over right away but stayed put for the sake of my peace of mind.

‘Even the person who shot the arrow turned out to be Gartz.’

Anyway, I had to ask my question. Turning my gaze from Adelia back to my father, I voiced it.

“From what I’ve seen, there seems to be an unspoken rule against targeting a man’s testicles. It seems efficient since even a slight impact there has a big effect.”

“That’s an oddly insightful yet understandable question. Just so you know, that area is also a vital point for women. It’s a reproductive organ, so the nerves are concentrated there.”

My father chuckled at my question, adding that the male anatomy’s greater exposure makes it more painful.

“Targeting that area typically works only in surprise situations. It’s instinctive for people to retreat when their genitals are threatened. Instead, you could exploit that reaction to aim for their eyes.”

“I see.”

“Speaking of which, if there’s dirt around, throw it at their eyes. Temporarily blinding them creates an opening. It’s quite useful.”

My father was truly teaching me survival-oriented techniques. I listened intently, taking careful notes.

However, no matter how much I heard, there’s no substitute for practice. Without practical application, it’s meaningless.

Of course, running away without looking back, or throwing dirt into someone’s eyes, are simple enough. What I needed to learn was how to accurately strike vital points.

No matter how skilled an opponent is, a well-landed strike to a vital point can leave them incapacitated, so I must master this.

“Then, before we move on to practice, Sir Cross.”

“Yes.”

At my father’s call, Adelia brought something over, steadily approaching us.

When I checked the item she carried, it was something familiar—something I’d often seen at the mansion.

“Are we practicing with this?”

“Yes. I’ll teach you the fundamentals of martial arts using this.”

It was a wooden training dummy commonly used for martial arts practice.

At the mansion, we used scarecrows stuffed with straw, but the academy preferred wooden dummies.

They were not only durable but also quickly replaceable if broken. I had seen them a few times in the communal training grounds.

“With this, we’ll learn where the vital points are and how to attack them with each weapon.”

“What about barehanded situations?”

“As I said earlier, in such cases, running is your best option. You can pick up a stone from the ground and throw it or grab a branch to use as an improvised weapon.

I’ll teach you basic hand-to-hand combat as well, but we need to raise your odds of survival as much as possible.”

Martial arts, huh… The thought of learning everything from basic standing strikes to grappling techniques like wrestling makes my head spin.

Especially wrestling—it’s practically a must. There’s hardly any martial art as practical as wrestling.

In my past life, and even in this world, knights acquire wrestling as a foundational martial art.

Sure, there are monsters capable of slicing through rocks and splitting trees thanks to mana, but once they’re on the ground, the game is over.

That said, due to the inevitable need to close the distance, it’s not often used in real combat. Still, it serves as a last-ditch effort for the worst-case scenario.

“Before we head into practice, it’s best to decide on your weapon first. Something more for self-defense—perhaps a dagger, a hand axe, or a mace. What do you prefer?”

A dagger seems the most versatile. Each weapon has its clear advantages, but few are as broadly useful as a dagger.

Just as I was about to say “dagger,” my father, realizing he’d overlooked something, changed his stance.

“No, it’s better to learn them all instead of just one.”

“Pardon?”

“To be precise, I’ll only teach you dagger and blunt weapon techniques. With those two, you can make use of even a random stick lying around.”

“… …”

The world outside the blanket is dangerous. But one can’t stay hidden under the covers forever.

“This is all for your own good.”

………Understood.

The journey to step outside the blanket begins today.

★★★★★

Isaac’s training began, and Hawk was the first to teach him how to handle weapons.

While blunt weapons required nothing more than simple swings, daggers demanded a specific grip technique, making explanations essential.

The dagger Isaac used wasn’t a real blade but a wooden training dagger, ensuring safety. However, the real issue lay with Isaac himself.

In the past, Isaac had only received basic training and had never held a weapon before.

He was a noble who was more familiar with books and intellectual pursuits than physical training or weaponry.

But Hawk, having taught both Dave and Nicole, was someone who had learned through trial and error.

Moreover, teaching daggers—unlike longswords—was relatively straightforward.

Thanks to Hawk’s instruction, Isaac quickly grasped the basics and was soon able to practice with a wooden training dummy.

The core of the training involved repetitive actions designed to ingrain reflexive movements, ensuring that he could respond instantly to sudden ambushes.

“Is this all you’re planning to teach him?”

Adelia, who had approached Hawk while Isaac was diligently striking the dummy, asked softly.

From Adelia’s perspective, this level of training was adequate for an “ordinary person,” but considering Isaac’s circumstances, it seemed woefully insufficient.

The skills of the demon worshippers targeting Isaac were no joke.

Although they had been careless last time, Isaac hadn’t even been able to sense them coming.

Fortunately, swift follow-up measures had saved him.

Had the strange creature’s arrow not missed its mark, the situation could have turned dire.

“This alone won’t cut it. Demon worshippers are not an easy foe. I plan to teach him efficiently enough so that he doesn’t become a burden.”

“What do you think of Isaac’s talent, my lord?”

“Perhaps my standards have grown too high, but it’s not great. He inherited decent strength from his mother, but everything else leaves much to be desired.”

Hawk’s eldest son, Dave, inherited all of Hawk’s physical traits, while Nicole, the eldest daughter, combined Hawk’s talents with Anna’s beauty.

Lastly, Isaac inherited Hawk’s physique, but everything else—his demeanor and abilities—came from Anna.

Of course, even Anna, with her unusual strength, couldn’t be considered ordinary.

After marrying Hawk, her physical abilities had only grown stronger, making her far from typical.

One only needed to recall the time she crushed fruit barehanded, without any physical enhancement. Her strength was far from that of an average person.

However, when it came to martial aptitude, Isaac was no more than an ordinary individual. He couldn’t absorb skills like a sponge, as Xenon, the protagonist of Xenon’s Chronicles, could.

“Instead, he has focus that can compensate for it. In the worst situations, brains matter more than brawn. As long as he’s properly taught, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“That’s a relief.”

“By the way, that demon worshipper who attacked you—was he strong?”

At the mention of the demon worshipper, Adelia flinched.

Although the ambush had caught her off guard, she was well aware of how close Isaac had come to being seriously harmed.

Wearing an expression of deep regret, she answered.

“…He wasn’t particularly strong. But I failed to detect his presence.”

“Ah, so he must have been specialized in ambush tactics.”

“I’m sorry. My lack of skill caused this…”

“No need to blame yourself. Use this as an opportunity to improve. In fact, one of the reasons we came here—besides Isaac’s request—was to train you as well.”

Adelia nodded silently.

She had suspected as much after receiving Hawk’s reply.

Unless demon worshippers waged an open war, they would likely continue sending assassins.

Although she could protect Isaac, her ability to detect threats was lacking.

To address this shortcoming, Hawk’s special training was essential.

“I’ll teach you a detection technique—one that served me well during my active years.”

“What kind of technique is it?”

“I don’t know its name. But it lets you predict when, where, how, who, and what someone will do.

It’s a power I stumbled upon during my time in service. It’s the reason I survived when all my comrades fell at the border.”

If Isaac had heard this, he might have thought, Isn’t that just Observation Haki?

It was a power that allowed Hawk to sense presences and predict future movements—a seemingly overpowered ability.

However, Hawk soon explained why he hadn’t taught it earlier.

“But the problem is the immense mental strain it causes.

Unless you take proper breaks, the constant use of this ability can take a toll. In my case, I had to keep it active every day during battle, which left me no choice. Even so, I couldn’t save my comrades. That’s why I retired early.”

“… …”

“If you’re willing, I’ll teach it to you. But if it becomes too burdensome—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Before Hawk could finish, Adelia interrupted him.

Hawk closed his mouth and turned his head slowly.

Her clear, sky-blue eyes were calm like a still lake, devoid of any fear.

“What could be more painful than letting Isaac die?”

“…That’s enough for me.”

Hawk, satisfied with her resolve, patted Adelia on the shoulder a couple of times. With a reliable bodyguard like her, he felt confident in his teaching.

But still…

Hawk’s gaze shifted back to Isaac, who was engrossed in his training.

Completely absorbed in his efforts, Isaac seemed oblivious to the conversation happening nearby.

Did he really write Xenon’s Chronicles just as a hobby?

Over time, such questions naturally arose.

Anna had dismissed it without much thought, but Hawk, having experienced much, couldn’t help but wonder.

If it was all coincidence, why did even the gods seem to elevate Isaac’s reputation?

Moreover, Isaac had shown a precocious and mature side from a young age.

Initially, Hawk had dismissed it as quirks of his personality, but upon reflection, certain aspects felt undeniably suspicious.

He barely left the mansion, yet he knows so much about the world.

As Isaac’s father, Hawk felt guilty admitting it, but Isaac had almost never ventured outside the estate.

His social circle was so limited it was practically nonexistent.

And yet, this recluse managed to craft such a vast and detailed story purely from imagination?

Even for a bookworm, it was implausible.

Could he really be someone from the future?

Hawk’s suspicions deepened.

And yet, he was oblivious to the demon worshippers. Or… did he draw them in on purpose? To gather information about those who threaten him?

Though his thoughts wandered in odd directions, they were slowly closing in on the truth.

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