WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 10

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Fenris

Arian thought she might just die from how adorable her son looked, glaring at Fenris with that pouty little face.

He was precocious in just about every way, which made an expression like that a rare sight. But the sparring he'd shown earlier, stripped of every drop of her bias, had been anything but ordinary.

She'd never trained with a blade herself, her spirit arts awakening far too early for that, but that didn't mean she had no eye for swordsmanship. Born of Alastor's direct line, she'd watched the swords of kinsmen and knights since childhood. And her husband, for his part, was thoroughly obsessed with blades.

Kyle's sword talent must come from both Alastor and Aslan blood, she thought.

Alastor, called the foremost martial house on the continent, revered strength to a degree that bordered on brute obsession, and it had earned every syllable of that name. Ask what martial virtue was, and you'd get a dozen different answers. Ask how it was measured, and the simplest answer was always the same: strength.

To have martial talent meant carrying the clear potential to grow stronger. To be young meant having all the time in the world to do so, still unripe, still developing.

Today, Kyle had proven before the head of Alastor exactly how much he was worth. Among all of Arian's nephews and nieces, none was younger than Kyle, and she was certain none could match his talent either.

"..."

What gave Arian both joy and worry was that her son's gifts were not limited to martial talent alone.

Spirit affinity.

It wasn't something you could gain by wanting it, nor cultivate through effort. There were plenty of disciplines in the world where grit and determination could compensate for lack of talent. Spirit arts was not one of them. Without the inborn gift, you couldn't even set foot at the door.

Five hundred years had passed since the founding ancestor, Ruin Alastor, ended the continent's Dark Age with a single sword. The name Alastor, which began with him, had ruled over Vigrid for those five centuries, drawing in countless names and bloodlines along the way.

The single requirement for blood to be absorbed into Alastor was talent. Nothing else. The most prized was sword talent, but it didn't have to be the sword. It didn't even have to be martial. Five hundred years had made the house covet even magical aptitude.

Alastor was not a house of magic, and it had never tried to be. It sought those other gifts to broaden the foundation of its martial ideal, to push it higher. At the center of that ideal, naturally, stood the sword.

In five hundred years of that history.

As far as Arian knew, spirit affinity had never once appeared in Alastor's bloodline.

Unlike magic, which had spread widely since the Dark Age, spirit arts remained rare even now. As mana techniques advanced, effort could compensate for a lack of magical talent, at least to a point. With spirit arts, not even that was possible. If you weren't born with it, there was no door to open.

Spirit arts was an insular world for exactly that reason. Spirit artists kept to their own. No matter how great the name of Alastor, they had their own brand of elitism, and no interest in mixing bloodlines.

Arian quietly bit her lower lip, drifting back to her childhood. A gift unlike any that had ever entered the bloodline, one that set her apart from everyone around her. Her father had called it a blessing. But the Arian of those years had only felt how different she was, drifting at the edges of a world that didn't quite fit her.

She'd been resented for it. Dismissed for it. Among all of Alastor's direct line, she alone had never taken up a sword, never touched a weapon.

So she worried. Worried that the gift she'd passed down might twist her son's path into something difficult.

If he'd been born with a single talent, he could simply follow that one road. But Kyle had spirit affinity every bit as strong as his martial gift. She would cheer for him with everything she had, whatever path he chose. The house's stance, though, was a different matter entirely.

"Fath-"
"Grandfather."

Arian had just begun to call for Julius when Kyle spoke first. He startled slightly and glanced back at her, but she shook her head.

"Go on."

"Yes. Grandfather, can I take this with me next time?"

Kyle withdrew his hand from Fenris. The words made Karthan's head swim. Demanding Fenris in the first place was already absurd. The family head actually agreeing to give it was even more so. And now the boy wasn't going to take it. Not refusing it outright, either. He'd come back for it later.

"My lord... even so, Fenris is..."

Karthan said carefully.

Fenris was not the founder's own blade, but it was the first spoil of war he had ever claimed. Kept at his side until the very day before he ascended, it was no exaggeration to call it the family's symbol of the founder himself. That was why it held such a striking position in the Sword Throne Hall, displayed directly beneath the portrait above the throne.

Karthan wouldn't argue that Kyle's talent was extraordinary. But Fenris carried far too much meaning to hand to any child.

"You wanted it so badly. And now you don't?"

Julius ignored Karthan entirely, his gaze fixed on Kyle.

"It's too big for me to use right now."

"You would have known that from the moment you saw it."

"Well... there's actually another reason."

Damn old man. Did he always have to pick at his pride like this? Kyle swallowed the curse rising in his throat and put on a suitably childlike expression.

"Fenris says it doesn't want to be held by me yet."

An absolute insult to his pride. The Sword Demon's pride. Rejected by the very sword he'd wielded five hundred years ago.

Whatever that wolf was, spirit or specter or something else entirely, he could easily grab Fenris without connecting with it at all. Even if the size was wrong for him now, bodies grew with time.

Right.

Time would pass.

He couldn't use it anyway, not yet. Better to take it once he'd earned its recognition for real.

He clenched his fist. If he had no spirit affinity and simply couldn't see that mutt, that would be one thing. But he'd seen it. Ignoring it and taking Fenris anyway was something his pride wouldn't allow.

Julius gave a low chuckle, eyes dropping to Fenris where it stood planted in the floor. "Not recognized by a sword. Now there's a strange thing."

He couldn't see or sense the wolf that Kyle had seen.

"So you're confident you'll earn its recognition later?"

"Of course."

"Fenris was the sword of the Sword Demon five hundred years ago. In the end, it rested beside our founder. Which means it has had only two masters, the Sword Demon and the founder. Kyle, do you truly believe you can become its third?"

It was debatable whether Ruin could actually be called Fenris's master, it had been taken as a war prize, after all. But Kyle supposed that was one way to look at it.

"Yes."

He set the doubt aside. Julius's question needed no real deliberation. Who else in this world could possibly be Fenris's master?

"Bold answer. I like it. So when do you think you'll be ready?"

"I'll have to see how things go."

"And where did the boldness go?"

"I don't know how things will turn out either."

Karthan's expression shifted through a dozen colors as the exchange continued. Even Julius's grown children sometimes found it hard to breathe around their father. Yet this young nephew of his wasn't backing down a single step, answering every word without flinching...

"I'll give you ten years."

"What if it takes more than ten?"

"You're not confident?"

"It's not that. I just don't want to rush."

"Hmm. Fair enough. Rushing has a way of spoiling what would have gone right on its own."

He glanced briefly at Lucia. A girl with every advantage, driven to defeat by her own impatience. She stood quietly in the corner of the hall, head bowed, not yet dismissed.

"Then take it when you feel the time has come."

"You won't go back on your word?"

"Would the head of Alastor lie about something like this?"

"Then can I come here and play with Fenris whenever I want?"

Kyle's eyes lit up as he asked.

"Play." The word dropped Karthan's jaw. Lucia jerked her head up in shock. Arian's eyes went wide.

"..."

Julius's expression changed too. He stared at Kyle for a moment, blank, then composed himself and nodded.

"Yes. Come here and play with Fenris whenever you like."

"M-my lord, this place is the Sword Thr-"

"Quiet."

Karthan had started to protest, and this time Julius didn't ignore him. One cold look, and Karthan's mouth snapped shut.

"Can I play with you too, Grandfather?"

Kyle's body was that of a five-year-old boy. His mind was not. He knew exactly how his words would land.

The Sword Tower stood at the topmost reaches of Gladiheim. It was where the purebloods lived, and the Sword Throne Hall was its heart, where the family head's throne stood and the founder's portrait hung. From what Kyle could tell, even Karthan, the eldest son, couldn't enter freely without the family head's permission.

He'd just secured open access to that very hall. Now he was working to close the distance between himself and Julius, the man everyone in the house approached with held breath. The ripples this would send through his relatives needed no imagination.

And he'd decided it was necessary.

Arian had married and left, and now, six years later, she'd returned with a son in tow. With succession still murky and undefined, there would be more than a few relatives eyeing them with suspicion. Arian had been something of an outcast in the house to begin with.

Kyle wasn't the type to care much about other people's feelings, but he had no intention of letting that part of himself make Arian's life harder. Getting along with every single relative, on the other hand, was exhausting and not worth the effort.

The simplest way to win a battle was always to take the enemy general.

In this particular battle, that was Julius. A metaphor, obviously. Not that he had any intention of actually doing that. In this case, getting close to Julius meant he wouldn't need to worry about any of the others.

"With... me?"

"Yes."

The composure Julius had just recovered slipped again. He stared at Kyle for a moment, mouth open, then gave a small, quiet laugh and nodded.

"If you're worth playing with, I don't see why not."

"Yes!"

Kyle beamed like the five-year-old he appeared to be.

He hadn't wanted to force closeness with someone he genuinely didn't like, even for Arian's sake. But the Julius he'd seen today felt like a decent enough man. Not as a grandfather, or as Arian's father. That wasn't the measure he was using.

Kept his word. Strong. Proud.

Five hundred years ago, Kyle would have challenged him without a second thought.

"Lucia."

Even at Julius's call, Lucia didn't respond right away. She'd been too stunned by what she'd just witnessed. She hadn't missed it entirely, though, and she caught herself, snapping to attention, spine straight.

"Yes, my lord."

"Take Kyle and show him around the Sword Tower."

"Yes, of course."

"Karthan and Arian. Both of you, stay."

"Yes... my lord."

"Yes."

Lucia picked up her wooden sword and headed for the door first. Before following, Kyle flashed a wide smile and gave Julius a cheerful bow.

"Grandfather. See you later!"

Not "take care," not "goodbye." They'd be seeing each other often enough that a formal farewell felt strange.

After the children left, silence settled back over the Sword Throne Hall. That was its natural state. Karthan, finding it hard to breathe, studied Julius's expression.

"Funny how one small child leaving can change the whole atmosphere," Julius muttered, dropping into his throne.

Karthan managed an awkward smile.

"It must be your lordship's dignity..."

"Even now you won't call me father."

"As the eldest, I only try to model proper conduct..."

"Since when did the house's rules prevent a man from calling his own father father?"

Karthan coughed at the jab. Arian laughed softly.

"Don't you think it might be because you were too strict, Father?"

"Arian. When you were still here, at least this place had a little life in it."

"All I remember is sitting through dull lectures before I came of age."

"That was mostly your own fault."

"Yes, mostly. Not entirely."

A faint, bitter smile crossed her face as she thought back. The jealousy was real. The dismissal too, and the isolation. But looking back, she had kept herself at the edges as well. At least Julius had never told her that her gift was wrong.

"Is Kyle... to your liking?"

"Strange question. Was there anything you saw today that gave you reason to think otherwise?"

Julius paused to think.

"He's a little cheeky. But considering he's your son, I suppose the blood shows. Spirit affinity and all."

"..."

"What pleases me is that his gifts aren't one-sided. Not just spirit."

"Now I feel guilty for no good reason. I'm sorry, Father. For being the daughter who only had spirit arts."

"At your age, you still haven't shed that bad habit." Julius's tone dropped cold. "It reflects poorly in front of your son. See to it."

Arian flinched, drawing her shoulders in.

"I was joking."

"Joke or not, don't say things like that in front of Kyle."

"Understood..."

"You'll be staying on the fourth floor of the Sword Tower from now on."

"Sorry?"

"Why the surprise?"

Julius looked genuinely puzzled.

"My grandson said he'd be coming often. Don't tell me you expect someone to bring Kyle all the way up here every single time?"

"Well... that's... but I've grown rather fond of the manor we've been staying at..."

"What a ridiculous thing to say. Even if you genuinely like it, what's the problem? Move the whole thing here."

Six years away had briefly made her forget how the Sword Tower worked. Arian shook her head with a wry smile.

"No problem at all."

"Good. Now then. Let's talk more about my grandson."

Julius smiled and stroked his chin.

"That delightful little one. How we'll raise him."

1. Fenris: The sword's name is a direct reference to Fenrir, the monstrous wolf of Norse mythology fated to swallow Odin at Ragnarok. The wolf spirit dwelling within the blade is almost certainly a deliberate echo of this naming. Western readers familiar with Norse myth will catch the layer immediately.

2. Vigrid: In Norse mythology, Vigrid is the vast plain where the final battle of Ragnarok is foretold to be fought. The author's use of this name for the continent, alongside Fenris, suggests an intentional Norse mythological framework underlying the world-building.

3. Sword Demon (검귀): 검 means sword, 귀 means ghost or demon. In Korean martial fantasy tradition, 귀 in a fighter's title marks someone who has pushed past ordinary human limits through their martial art, carrying a near-supernatural weight. It is less a demonic connotation and more an acknowledgment of transcendence.

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