WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 15

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Arian Has Given Birth to a Treasure

At the end of the corridor connecting to the Sword Peak Hall stood an iron door, firmly shut. A man in jet-black uniform waited before it. He bowed as Julius approached, then offered the two wooden swords he was carrying.

One was a standard adult training sword. The other was for a child, noticeably shorter than usual. Kyle recognized immediately that it had been sized to fit his frame.

"What are the wooden swords for?"

The iron door swung open. Kyle asked with a grin as they stepped into the Sword Peak Hall. Julius found it charming and smiled.

"The only games I know are ones played with swords. Did you really expect this grandfather to give you a piggyback ride?"

"That does sound fun, but I think playing with swords would be better."

Kyle answered with eyes bright, and Julius thought: now there's someone on the same wavelength. The wooden sword was definitely easier to handle than the one he'd used sparring with Lucia earlier. Length right, weight appropriate. His body was just too underdeveloped to truly lose himself in it.

[Grrrr...]

He'd barely swung it a few times when a low animal growl broke the silence.

Fenris was still embedded in the floor of the Sword Peak Hall. Black smoke coiled around it, and the faint outline of a wolf shimmered in the dark haze. Kyle hadn't even stepped close, let alone reached for the hilt.

'What are you staring at, mutt.'

That damn dog's eyes were fixed on the wooden sword in Kyle's hand. Not content with staring, it kept up that threatening growl. He found it deeply, personally irritating.

'Jealous? Really?'

When he'd actually tried to grab it, the thing had bitten at him. And now it didn't like him holding a different sword? Selfish little beast. Kyle ignored the glare and swung the wooden sword even more deliberately, just to make a point.

"So, how should we play?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure."

Tap. Tap.

Julius tapped the wooden sword against the floor as he spoke.

"I gave you a wooden sword because swords are the only games I know. But I've never played with a child as young as you, so I genuinely have no idea how this is supposed to work."

"What about a sword fight?"

Kyle smiled up at him.

"A sword... fight?"

"Yes. A sword fight."

"You want to play a sword fight with this grandfather?"

"Yes."

Julius let out a short laugh and looked back and forth between his wooden sword and Kyle. He'd been thinking he might teach the boy a few basics about swinging a blade. A sword fight was not what he'd expected to come out of his grandson's mouth.

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're my grandfather."

"Before that, I am the head of Alastor. Do you know what that means?"

"The strongest person here."

"Why only the strongest here?"

"There might be stronger people out in the world. I haven't met them yet."

"Ha ha..."

Too honest, really. Brazen enough to deserve a scolding. But Julius had no desire to give one. He looked steadily at Kyle, into those frank, unguarded eyes, and said,

"You're right. The world is wide, and there are many strong people."

In this era, there were ten individuals known as the Ten Peaks, Julius among them, superhuman by any measure.

Who among them was strongest remained a matter of much debate. None of them had ever fought each other with their lives truly on the line.

"Why don't you fight?"

"Because everyone has too much to lose."

Julius answered with a wry smile. He himself was carrying Alastor on his shoulders.

"The era is peaceful, too. On the surface, at least. So full-scale battles don't happen, and they can't be allowed to. If this grandfather were to engage in all-out war with any of the other Ten Peaks, the rest would intervene. Or try to take advantage of it for themselves."

A peaceful era. The Ten Peaks were called superhuman, yet every one of them wore shackles made of politics, bloodlines, and the current of the age.

Kyle understood it well enough. When you were tangled up in too much from every direction, you couldn't move freely. In his past life, once the Crow Mercenary Band had grown too large, he'd no longer been able to live as he pleased. He'd quit as commander for exactly that reason.

Even a mercenary band had been that heavy and cumbersome. A great house was another matter entirely.

"So. Since you have so much to hold onto, does that mean you can't sword fight with me either?"

"That's... not quite right. You cheeky little thing."

Julius chuckled and raised his wooden sword.

"But I've never sparred with someone as young as you. I genuinely don't know how to go about it."

"I'll try attacking, then."

Kyle grinned and lifted his wooden sword.

"You just try to block my attacks. How does that sound?"

"Ha ha..."

Among the continental Ten Peaks, Julius was called one of the two pillars of swordsmanship alongside the Sword Church Master himself. And here a five-year-old was telling him to block. How was one even supposed to react to that? Julius didn't know. All he could do was laugh quietly.

"All right. Go ahead and attack."

He held his sword low and waited for Kyle to come in. An entirely relaxed stance, shoulders hanging loose, center of gravity settled easily. From the outside, he was just a man holding a sword in one hand.

An "attack" wasn't complicated. Close the distance and swing. Or thrust. Success aside, any motion that threatened your opponent counted as an attack.

But. Simple as it was, Kyle didn't move. He stood still and watched Julius's eyes. No, his entire body. Julius made no move to rush his grandson's silence. He waited.

"Grandfather."

After a long pause, sword raised, body flinching but never committing, the boy finally spoke.

"There's nowhere to attack."

"...!"

"At this rate we can't even play. Please open up a gap for me."

Brazen.

And completely outrageous. Julius's mouth hung open. He stared blankly at Kyle, before barely managing to compose himself and find his voice.

"You said there's... nowhere to attack?"

"Yes. I can't see one."

"You're... actually looking for that?"

"Yes."

It was absurd.

No gap? Of course there wasn't. Julius had no openings.

Even holding only a wooden sword, even with a five-year-old grandson across from him. Julius was the head of Alastor, one of the continental Ten Peaks. Loose and effortless as his stance looked, Julius Alastor had no weaknesses. That much was entirely natural, but the one pointing it out was a child barely five years old. One who had apparently picked up a sword for the first time today.

He'd watched Kyle spar with Lucia earlier. His grandson had undeniable sword talent.

That had been impressive enough. Yet what Julius felt now went far beyond the shock of that moment.

That small boy wasn't rushing in carelessly under the guise of play. He was calmly, deliberately searching Julius for an opening. Which meant he understood exactly what he needed to do when facing an opponent. How to attack.

"..."

Julius closed his mouth and lowered his sword all the way. He wasn't holding it up anymore. To the eye, he looked wide open. But again Kyle didn't rush in. He furrowed his brow and puffed out both cheeks.

"I asked you to show me a gap. Why are you making it even harder to attack?"

"Ha..."

Julius could only laugh. His grandson wasn't just watching his stance. He was sensing the subtle pressure Julius put out.

Five years old. An age at which the spirit root hadn't even awakened. Some children with naturally sensitive constitutions could feel mana without an awakened spirit root, but his grandson's senses went far beyond that. Those were the instincts of a seasoned warrior, someone who had walked the edge of death countless times, sword in hand, over many long years.

Julius quietly raised his sword. His posture shifted slightly. The tension in his muscles changed, and the pressure he radiated shifted with it. He deliberately opened what looked like a gap.

'This old man...'

Kyle felt a gap open in Julius's left thigh. On the surface only. It was an obvious trap. Thrust into it and the counter would arrive before he could blink.

Knowing that, Kyle stepped forward anyway. The moment he closed the distance, he thrust, straight into the opening Julius had made. Sure enough, Julius countered the instant the sword went in.

Crack!

Julius's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly. Kyle hadn't driven the thrust home. He'd deflected Julius's sword instead. Julius had been about to tap the boy's shoulder lightly with the wooden sword. He asked instead, surprise unguarded in his voice:

"Why did you stop mid-thrust?"

"Because you weren't going to let me finish it."

"You saw through that?"

"Is that supposed to be hard?"

Kyle gave him a flat look.

This was play. Julius was holding back, matching himself to his young grandson. If he were to grip that sword with real intent, the current Kyle wouldn't be searching for openings at all. Julius's sheer presence would send him crashing unconscious without a single swing being thrown.

That fact pricked at Kyle's pride. The Sword Demon's pride. If at all possible, he'd have wanted to stand across from Julius in the body from his past life, at his peak.

"You're sneaky, grandfather."

Still sulking, Kyle muttered.

"You pretended to open a gap and then tried to hit me. If I'd fallen for it and thrust all the way, your sword would have landed."

"Ha ha..."

Something thrilling stirred in Julius's chest. How long had it been since he'd felt this? Watching Karthan grip a sword and swing for the first time? Watching Katarina exceed his expectations? No. This was something far larger than either of those memories. That five-year-old grandson was blowing past every expectation Julius had, and doing it joyfully.

"So then. Are you not having fun?"

Normally he would have composed his expression for the sake of his dignity as family head. Right now, Julius didn't even think to. He kept on smiling as he asked.

"No, it's fun. I'm angry because it's fun."

"Angry? Why?"

"I'm angry that I'm too young."

"If I were older, I could wield a sword better. Longer arms and legs, a longer sword than this."

"..."

"Right now I haven't awakened my spirit root. I haven't learned any mana cultivation techniques. I haven't studied any sword forms either. That's why I'm frustrated."

"What specifically is frustrating you?"

"My body won't move the way I want."

A long sigh.

"Look at this. My arms and legs are already shaking. My head hurts too."

It was true. A real five-year-old would've charged in yapping and been fine. Kyle hadn't done that. He'd faced Julius with the mindset of actual combat, play or not.

Standing across from a man with no openings at all, his five-year-old body had been strung taut the entire time. Muscles kept trying to contract, every hair on end, his whole frame buzzing. Julius was a sharp sword, and Kyle hadn't just watched. He had tried to become one himself and meet him head-on.

All of it had overwhelmed his underdeveloped body. Kyle wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, head swimming, limbs heavy as waterlogged cotton. He let out a long sigh and sank down where he stood.

"If only I were older, I could have had even more fun with you, grandfather..."

At those words,

"Ha ha... ha ha ha!"

Julius burst out laughing. His grandson's remark was both laughable and adorable. Still laughing, he set the wooden sword down.

"You said, if you were older, you could wield a sword better than you do now?"

He'd heard what was beneath those words. His grandson's complaint was neither a simple whine nor idle grumbling. The frustration was genuine, a five-year-old infuriated at being five years old.

"Better than this grandfather, even, when that time comes?"

Julius's eyes sharpened. His other grandchildren, even Karthan, the eldest, would have struggled to breathe under that gaze right now.

"That..."

But the five-year-old boy didn't look away. Drenched in cold sweat, his whole body flinching as it tried on its own to shrink back, Kyle answered each word clearly and deliberately.

"I'll have to wait and see."

Impudent. For Julius, it was the most delightful answer he could have received.

"Arian has given birth to a treasure."

Julius murmured, laughter warm and unhurried in his chest.

The Ten Peaks (십강, 十強) is a classic ranking concept borrowed from Korean and Chinese martial fiction, where ten individuals are recognized as the supreme warriors of their era. Rather than a formal organization, it is an informal designation acknowledging those who have reached a superhuman level of power. The tension among the Ten Peaks, where political entanglements prevent any decisive clash, is a recurring theme in murim and wuxia narratives, reflecting how strength alone does not equal freedom.

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