30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 242

“...Where else would you find a drift like this?”

“......”

“D-Don’t look at me like that.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“They—they’re the eyes of someone looking at a criminal.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“!!?!”

The deeper he immersed himself in the story, the more shocking it became.

Was this what it felt like for a child reading a fairytale, only for an adult to hand them the original grim version and say, “Here, read the real thing.”?

In other words...

This is absolutely insane.

Child abuse was practically a staple trope in romance fantasy novels, but hearing about it firsthand made it nothing short of exhausting.

Ihan felt himself teetering on the edge of genuine disgust.

“W-Wait! I can see you’ve misunderstood something, but please, stop! It’s all a misunderstanding!”

“That sounds like something a criminal would say.”

“I swear it isn’t! I won’t deny that I was a terrible parent, but there were valid reasons! Just hear me out a little longer!”

“......”

“...I appreciate that you’re willing to listen, but could you at least soften that stare? It’s... really starting to hurt my feelings.”

Felicia looked genuinely aggrieved, her expression bordering on a pout as she continued her story.

“I had already exhausted my heavenly mandate. It would have been stranger if I didn’t retire.”

***

Felicia was dying.

Her coughing fits grew worse, her hands trembled so violently that she could no longer wield a sword, and her vision had become so blurry that even seeing clearly was a struggle.

She was sixty-five years old.

Considering that the average life expectancy for women in Pendragon was fifty-five, it would not have been wrong to say she had lived a long life.

...But living long was not necessarily a blessing.

Rather—

“Guhhh...!”

“Madam, hold on!!”

“E-Elza, fetch the medicine!”

“But that’s—”

“Hurry.”

“...Understood.”

Felicia had spent decades rolling across battlefields, accumulating hundreds of scars. She was a knight who had braved war, an adventurer who had explored countless perilous regions, a hero who had prevented calamity.

It was a past she took pride in—one that had made her who she was.

But just as a body that endures too much strain eventually collapses, hers had been pushed far beyond its limits.

And now, old age—the one adversary no living being could defy—had begun to claim her.

Each day was a trial.

Every breath was agony.

Death could come at any moment.

And yet, despite it all, she clung to life for one reason.

“...Ah, I just want to swing my sword one more time.”

It was absurd, but she wasn’t holding on for the sake of her family.

She wasn’t desperately fighting to live for her child’s sake.

No—

It was for the sword.

She simply wanted to wield her blade one last time.

So she took painkillers laced with narcotics just to keep going.

She knew it would ruin her body even further, but she didn’t stop.

And when even the drugs could no longer suppress the pain—

“Iliad, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mother. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Heh, I’m not dead yet.”

“T-That’s not what I meant...”

“Enough. My son, come here.”

“......”

“I’m sorry for being such a terrible mother. Truly, I am...”

“...To me, you have always been more than I could ever deserve. I only wish for you to remain yourself until the very end. That is the mother I admire and love.”

In the end, she relinquished her position as family head and went into seclusion.

Though calling it “seclusion” was generous—she was no different from a withered leaf, waiting for the wind to carry her away.

“...It won’t be long before I join you,” she had whispered, thinking of her husband who had gone ahead to Avalon.

And then—

“One day, it struck me. Was I truly incapable of wielding a sword anymore?”

“......”

“If my body couldn’t swing a sword, then why not do so with my mind? Why not continue pursuing the sword through sheer will alone? So that’s what I did.”

“......”

“And at some point, I became an Aura User.”

“...You skipped a few steps there.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t recommend listening to that part. I’d rather not have a promising young one like you attempt something foolish and end up dead.”

“......”

***

Felicia became an Aura User.

At the age of seventy-one.

Among all recorded Aura Users in history, she was the oldest to ever achieve it.

And she was the first woman to do so.

Once again, the God of War sought her out.

Baltar and Albert sparred with her to confirm that she had indeed awakened as an Aura User.

“Hah! So this is what it means to defy fate? Senior, you are truly incredible.”

“In the past, present, and future combined, I doubt anyone like you will ever exist again.”

A knight unlike any before her.

A life that no one could ever hope to replicate.

That was the evaluation of two Aura Users who stood before her, and the entire continent was shaken by the revelation.

After that—

“Lady Felicia, please grant me your guidance!”

“How can I become a knight like you?”

“C-Can I become an Aura User too?!”

For a time, she was swarmed by countless disciples seeking to learn from her, and House Offen’s prestige soared to unprecedented heights.

After all, they had produced an Aura User.

It was only natural that their influence would explode.

Aspiring knights flocked to them in droves.

Merchants scrambled to secure connections.

To exaggerate only slightly—House Offen’s power had begun to rival even the royal family.

...And Felicia knew that this was not a good thing.

“I remain retired, and I have no intention of returning to active duty. Anyone seeking something from House Offen, leave. You will gain nothing from me.”

With those words—both warning and declaration—House Offen was finally allowed to return to normalcy.

Well...

With the reputation of producing an Aura User, they had already surpassed their previous golden age, so maybe normal wasn’t quite the right word.

Regardless, with time, the family stabilized.

And with her body now brimming with Aura, Felicia—who should have been in her seventies—physically regressed to her prime in her forties.

And the first thing she did?

“...I can finally train again.”

She didn’t care that she had regained her youth.

She didn’t care that she had become a superhuman.

All that mattered was that she could once again wield her sword with her own hands.

“Isn’t it funny? I spent my whole life being betrayed by the sword. And yet, because I never let go, because I loved it until the very end, I was called a great swordswoman. It’s ironic.”

“Isn’t that an unfairly self-deprecating assessment? You literally became a superhuman.”

“Heh, I can’t help it. My swordsmanship is still terribly lacking.”

“...That level of false modesty is criminal.”

“I-I’m only stating the truth! You’ve experienced my sword firsthand, haven’t you? You know my techniques are nothing like those of true geniuses.”

“...Were they?”

“...Ah, right. You weren’t exactly blessed with talent either. It seems I’ve chosen the wrong person to commiserate with.”

“...You absolute menace.”

She knew that to others, her words might sound like false humility.

But the truth was that despite all her years of training, her swordsmanship had never been anything special.

And that was only natural.

She had been the worst talent in House Offen’s history.

A dullard among dullards.

Someone who could barely grasp 0.1 of a lesson when given 1.

And yet, she had become Sword Duke.

She had become a hero by the time she reached her forties.

Not because her swordsmanship was remarkable—