The ship sailed across the endless sea for several days.
Kyle's young body recovered at a ridiculous pace. With proper food and rest, the wound in his ribs had completely healed, and he felt more energetic than ever.
Every day, he watched Roger either laugh into the wind at the bow, arm-wrestle Rayleigh (usually ending in Roger shamelessly cheating), or hum some horribly off-key tune. That overflowing vitality lit something inside Kyle.
One afternoon, with warm sunlight and a gentle breeze, Roger had just finished demolishing a huge roasted sea-beast leg and was picking his teeth in satisfaction.
Rayleigh leaned against the mast, polishing his elegant saber.
Kyle stretched, feeling the power surging in his body, then walked up to Roger with burning eyes.
"Captain," he said, "duel me."
Roger blinked—then burst into laughter. "Kuahahaha! Interesting!"
Rayleigh paused his polishing, watching with quiet amusement.
The deck was quickly cleared.
Kyle took a deep breath and raised his guard.
He knew the gap between them was absurd, but that was exactly why he wanted to test it.
"Let's go!"
His figure shimmered.
"Mirage of Light!"
The air rippled, and three identical Kyles appeared.
They attacked from three directions at once—one chopping for Roger's neck, one sweeping low, one launching a vibration punch.
Roger didn't even stop picking his nose.
"Nice."
He casually threw a single punch.
Bam.
The illusions vanished.
Kyle's vision spun.
…Did I just get isekai'd again?
He folded like a cooked shrimp and collapsed, out cold.
Roger looked down at him and laughed.
"Kuahahaha! Youth really does sleep fast!"
Later, Kyle woke up to the smell of roasted meat.
And despite the aching bruise in his ribs, he had never felt more alive.