WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 24

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You Made the First Move

The Demon King.

Literally, exactly what the name implied. The king of the Demon Tribe, ruler of Erebos across the northern sea, homeland of his people.

In that era, the Demon Tribe had exploited the continent's political chaos to mount their invasions, though the Sword Demon never lived at the same time as the Demon King himself.

To be precise, a Demon King had existed even during the Sword Demon's lifetime. He simply hadn't moved against the continent. According to the histories, the Demon King departed Erebos, crossed the sea, and reached the continent only after the Sword Demon had died, the empire had stabilized, and the land was finding its way back to peace.

Ruin Alastor, by then known as the Sword Saint, met the Demon King and his forces here at Vegrid's northernmost edge. Both men drew their swords.

No winner emerged. Days of fighting later, the Sword Saint and the Demon King sheathed their blades together.

The Dragon King, the Elf Queen, and other observers of the duel sat down with them afterward and spoke at length.

The Demon King agreed not to "invade" the continent as before, and the Demon Tribe was welcomed as part of the wider world. So it was that the Demon Tribe's homeland, Erebos, crossed the sea and drew closer to the continent.

And that was exactly what it sounded like. Erebos, that vast landmass sitting far across the water, had physically moved through the sea and come nearer to the continent.

All of this, five hundred years ago. The Demon Tribe kept Erebos as their homeland while opening relations with the continent, and the imperial emperor granted them several of the northern islands. Today, you could see the Demon Tribe almost anywhere on the continent without much surprise.

"The Demon King's sword..."

Kyle murmured, gaze fixed on Baal. That brutal, ominous cleaver, shaped purely for cutting people apart, fit the title "Demon King's sword" well enough now that it had context.

"Why did the Demon King plant his sword here?"

"It was left for the Founding Ancestor, they say. A way of saying he would remember him." Katarina's golden eyes sharpened as she studied Baal. "Or perhaps the reverse, that he wanted the Founding Ancestor to remember him."

"The Founding Ancestor had long since broken his old swords and kept only Fenris beside him. The Demon King apparently wished the Founding Ancestor to take Baal, but the Founding Ancestor refused. So Baal was planted here, in the garden of the Sword Tower."

"Did the Demon King say that himself?"

"No. That's a later interpretation."

Katarina shook her head.

"Why the Demon King came to Gladiheim without warning. What the two of them discussed. Why he planted Baal here before leaving. The Demon King left no explanation for any of it."

"..."

"But the Founding Ancestor did say Baal was worth remembering, the sword planted here. He never kept it close, though."

That last part made the corner of Kyle's mouth twitch. Ruin had kept only Fenris by his side, right until the end. The thought pleased him.

"So in the end, nobody really knows why this sword is here."

"That's right. The historical record is silent on it. But it's a fact that Baal is where the Sword Garden began."

The Demon King had planted his sword and walked away. Ruin Alastor had let Baal remain, calling it a sword worth remembering. Afterward, Gladiheim developed the tradition of planting the weapons of notable retainers and worthy rivals in this spot, and the garden took on the name Sword Garden.

"Why was such a historically significant sword hidden away?"

"Because it's dangerous."

No hesitation.

"Baal is a true cursed blade, unlike Fenris. It seduces people, swordsmen especially, and tempts them to pick it up. Give in to that temptation and you lose your reason. Bloodlust takes over."

Katarina's hand moved to Lucia's shoulder. Lucia had been staring at Baal with glassy eyes; she flinched and came back to herself.

"Anyone without a strong enough will falls to Baal's pull. Pulling it from the ground and hiding it somewhere out of sight would be safer, but as I said, Baal carries significant symbolic weight. It can't simply be yanked out and discarded. So instead it was concealed and sealed."

"Sealed..."

"It's still under seal even now. You won't be able to see it, but the seal is there."

Kyle narrowed his eyes and stared at Baal. Just as Katarina said, he couldn't make out any seal.

"How did you find Baal in the first place?"

The gaze drilling into the back of his head was sharp. He glanced over his shoulder. Katarina still had her hand on Lucia's shoulder to steady her, but her eyes were cutting into him like a blade's edge.

"You're favored by the Family Head, but he wouldn't have told you about Baal. Did Arian mention it?"

"Baal looked at me."

Kyle answered honestly.

"That's all. It's not like I'm forbidden from the Sword Garden."

"Pure-bloods may go anywhere in Gladiheim. But Baal... looked at you?"

Katarina frowned and shifted her gaze back to Baal.

"Has the seal weakened? That shouldn't be possible..."

"It has nothing to do with the seal. It just, well, the dokkaebi looked at me, I suppose."

He tilted his head as he said it. Katarina fell quiet. This new nephew and his unusual gift. A spirit talent like Arian's, yet unlike Arian's in its own way.

"There's a dokkaebi inside Baal as well?"

"It's an old sword."

Five hundred years old at minimum. Not just old, but a sword that had belonged to the Demon King. If even Fenris, the Sword Demon's beloved sword, had a dokkaebi dwelling in it, there was no reason Baal wouldn't.

"I don't know exactly what form your gift takes. But don't touch Baal."

"Why not?"

"You're asking something obvious. Because it's dangerous."

Katarina's voice went harder.

"Did you not just hear what I said? Baal is a true cursed blade, nothing like Fenris."

"I heard everything you said. But, Aunt, has anyone actually grabbed that sword and lost their mind? In practice?"

"Yes."

Kyle had half-expected another round of historical speculation. Katarina answered without a beat.

"After the Founding Ancestor ascended. More than ten people fell to Baal's pull, took the hilt, and lost their minds. Some of them were even collateral branches and pure-bloods of Alastor."

"I see."

No lie in it, then. Kyle nodded and looked back at Baal.

Could a sword truly seduce a person and strip them of their sanity? Given that it had belonged to the Demon King himself, perhaps. Legends of cursed blades that drove men mad with bloodlust had been common enough five hundred years ago.

'If a dokkaebi took up residence in Fenris, which started out as a plain sword, a cursed blade would be no different. Just real.'

But.

'I doubt it would work on me.'

The thought came quietly. Going mad from picking up a sword, for someone who had known swords all his life and loved them, it just wasn't going to happen. He had cut down countless people in the past, and none of it had been done at a blade's urging.

"Don't touch Baal."

Katarina warned again. She had caught the gleam in her young nephew's eyes, that same look a child gets watching a shiny new toy.

She loved gifted children, all the more so when the child was her younger sister's son, the Family Head's favorite. But indulging him in everything was never the plan. Exceptional talent demanded that much more rigorous guidance.

"I won't touch it. I'll just look."

Out loud, at least.

'Hey.'

Inside, he called out to Baal. He focused hard on the gift living in this body, the talent that had coaxed the dokkaebi from Fenris, the one that sensed the "gazes" of the weapons in the Sword Garden. It was like trying to move a limb that didn't exist, a tail or a pair of wings, willing something absent to stir.

'You were the one who looked at me first. So why are you going quiet?'

Coming onto me like that, then saying nothing. The Demon King's sword, they called it, but this one was turning out to be surprisingly shy. Kyle stared Baal down with that thought in mind.

'Say something already...'

Thump.
Thump, thump.

His heart started beating on its own. Exactly the same as when he had seen the wolf through Fenris. The world around him shuddered. Katarina's sharp gaze faded from his awareness, and in its place, the "gazes" of the Sword Garden's weapons pressed in closer and stronger.

A blood-red mist billowed around Baal. The silver blade, with its long blood groove running the length of it, filled with crimson. Then the red spread across the entire blade, creeping outward like a web of winding veins.

Already ominous, the thing grew more monstrous still. And from the center of the blade, a pupil appeared.

A yellow line cut across a pitch-black, inverted eye. Baal's "eye" fixed on Kyle.

[The audacity. The absolute audacity.]

Baal's voice rang through Kyle's mind.

[When has this body ever lured the likes of you? It is your inferior kind who crept here in secret, lusting for power or desperate for recognition, and seized this body of their own accord.]

"It talks."

Kyle murmured, caught off guard. He couldn't feel Katarina's presence anymore. Just like with Fenris, he was resonating with Baal right now. This conversation wasn't being shared with anyone else.

[Brat.]

Baal's pupil flashed. Surge! The killing intent it loaded into that gaze came crashing down over Kyle.

[Tell that inferior female this body's words. That this body has never lured beings such as yourselves. Not once.]

"That's a lie. Lucia's eyes went blank the moment she looked at you."

[If you mean that half-witted creature with the mixed blood, that one was not this body's doing. The superior blood running through her veins was drawn to this body of its own accord.]

"You've never lured a human?"

[That your kind approaches of its own will, seizes this body, and loses its reason in the rush of power is proof of your inferiority. It is no scheme of this body's.]

"So it is true, then, that grabbing you makes people lose it."

[That is entirely because your kind is inferior.]

"Who are you to call everyone else inferior?"

[You dare...]

Baal's voice had no clear gender, no readable age, but the fury beneath it came through clean.

[You. Why are you still standing? Even bound as this body is...]

A pause. Baal was registering it: this child hadn't flinched from the killing intent. Hadn't gone pale. Hadn't changed color at all.

"Killing intent is nothing new to me."

Kyle answered, unbothered. He understood now why Baal was a cursed blade. It hadn't even touched him directly, and yet the killing intent alone was that dense. Anyone with a weaker mind would unravel just from taking the hilt; the bloodlust would eat through them from the inside.

Kyle, however, was not anyone with a weaker mind.

[Familiar? A brat your size? Impossible. Not one of your arrogant, inferior kind has kept their wits after taking this body.]

"The mental fortitude of fools who thought grabbing one new sword would make them powerful, would make them worthy of recognition? How strong could that really be?"

Kyle scoffed. Baal went quiet at that, then let out a low scoff.

[Brat. In the end, you want this body too, don't you? That's why you're here talking to this...]

"Get the story straight. Did I come onto you first? You were the one who came onto me. You kept staring."

Kyle glanced around. The blood-red mist from his resonance with Baal. Through it, the gazes of the Sword Garden's weapons pressed in around him.

"And it's not just you. Every one of them in here is staring at me."

[Brat, you are the one who needs to get the story straight. You stepped into this ridiculous garden first. And you were the one who let off that strange quality and woke this body's eye.]

"So what. I made the first move?"

[What are you?]

Baal's pupil narrowed.

[No different from the rest of your inferior kind, and yet something strange bleeds off of you. Could it be that my master has finally sent an envoy to reclaim this body?]

"You haven't been listening to what goes on out there. I'm this family's youngest grandson."

[...]

"Listening to you, it does start to sound like I made the first move. But it wasn't intentional, so take that as you will."

Kyle turned. He'd confirmed what he came to confirm. The gift in this body drew him to dokkaebis, and every weapon in the Sword Garden carried its own. He didn't know if that was true of all weapons in existence, but this much was enough for now.

[Wait.]

As Kyle moved to push through the blood-red mist and leave, Baal called after him urgently.

[You won't take this body?]

"Aunt said not to."

[What reason is there to heed the words of an inferior female?]

"Why. Would you prefer I did?"

Kyle grinned and looked back at Baal. The pupil on the blade went wide.

[Brat. You're something different. How old are you?]

"Five."

[Five... years old... Young. Not yet of an age to awaken a spirit root...]

"Something buried here five hundred years ago knows about spirit roots? Did the other dokkaebis tell you?"

[...]

Baal gave no answer, just watched Kyle steadily. Kyle took the silence as a yes. Five hundred years planted in the Sword Garden, and they had apparently been talking among themselves.

[You are still too raw to take this body. But your inferior kind grows and ages quickly enough. So when the time comes, this body shall permit you to take it.]

"No."

[What?]

Clearly hadn't expected a refusal. Baal's pupil went wide.

[Brat. What did you just say? No?]

"Right."

[Why? Do you not know what this body is? This body is Baal. This body's master was...]

"If I grab you."

Kyle smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners in a deliberate tease.

"Grandfather will scold me. And so will Aunt."

[For something so trivial...!]

"And your attitude is unbearable. If you got on your knees and begged, maybe things would be different. What was that, 'when the time comes, this body shall permit you'? Sorry, but I have no need for a sword with a high opinion of itself."

A sword should sit comfortably in the hand and go exactly where it was told. Something strutting around with that level of arrogance wasn't his style.

'Fenris is the exception. That mutt was originally mine.'

Right now the thing had stopped deferring to him as its master and taken to biting his arms and body instead. But once this body matured and he knocked some manners back into it, Fenris would go back to being the obedient blade it had always been.

[Wait...! Don't go, brat!]

"I'll probably be coming to the Sword Garden fairly often from now on. If I feel like it, I'll talk to you then."

That said.

He wasn't entirely uninterested in Baal. The attitude was insufferable, but it had its own will as a dokkaebi. Tame it, and he might be able to learn the swordwork of the Demon King himself, its original master.

That thought made something quicken in his chest. Not now, of course. Even if he learned something, he couldn't put it to use yet. No confidence this body could handle it. Julius's permission would be needed, too.

'Once I've proven myself, I'll be able to take Baal too.'

With that, he pushed through the blood-red mist. It scattered around him.

Beyond it, he saw many eyes watching. The weapons of the Sword Garden. Dokkaebis of a different nature from Baal, wrapped around their respective blades, all staring openly at Kyle.

'I could learn from those ones too.'

Truly, what a good thing it was to have been reincarnated. Kyle turned over that familiar thought for what felt like the hundredth time.

When he stepped clear of the mist entirely.

Kyle blinked. Right. This time too, his mind had left his body while he resonated with Baal. Directly in front of him, crouched to his eye level, Katarina stared back at him with both eyes wide open. He gave her an awkward smile.

"Aunt. What's wrong?"

"What were you just doing?"

"Was something... happening?"

"Baal was bleeding red."

Clamp.

Katarina's hand locked hard around Kyle's shoulder.

"And you were staring at Baal with empty eyes. Did Baal get to you?"

"I talked with it a bit."

"Talk? It got to you!"

"No, it wasn't like that. I just went and teased it a little."

"What do you mean..."

"Baal has a message for you. It says it never lured anyone. The ones who grabbed it on their own and then lost their minds only have themselves to blame. It's being wrongly accused, apparently."

"What?"

Katarina's lips parted. Then she bit down on her lower lip and slapped Kyle across the cheek.

"Snap out of it! You cannot let yourself be taken in by Baal!"

Out of nowhere, a slap. A hard one, at that. Kyle rubbed his stinging cheek and looked up at Katarina with a deeply aggrieved expression.

"I wasn't taken in. I'm perfectly fine."

"What you just said is not fine!"

How to prove one's own sanity. Kyle thought for a moment, then met Katarina's eyes with a serious look.

"Aunt. Understood, now let go of me for a second."

"What are you planning?"

"I'll prove I'm not out of my mind."

"And how?"

"If you don't believe me, hold my hand and walk up close to Baal with me."

"Close to Baal...! So you really are..."

"Aunt."

She had seemed cold at first. Katarina, it turned out, was the worrying type. Kyle put some force behind his gaze and looked at her directly.

"Trust me."

A nephew he had barely spoken to, looking at her with eyes that serious. Katarina hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. She took Kyle's hand and walked carefully toward Baal.

"And how exactly are you going to prove..."

Before she could finish, Kyle wound up and kicked Baal's blade hard.

Clang! Bones and muscles fortified by the Elixirs drove a blow with weight no child should have, but Baal, driven deep into the ground, only shuddered violently instead of toppling.

Clang! Kyle kicked it again. Katarina stared wide-eyed at Baal shaking from the impact.

Clang! A third kick, and Katarina grabbed Kyle's arm in alarm and yanked him back.

"You, you...! What are you doing?!"

"I'm not out of my mind."

Kyle said it calmly.

"Do you believe me now?"

Admittedly, that might have done more to raise doubts than settle them. But luckily, Katarina only opened and closed her mouth, saying nothing more on the subject.

"The cheek you slapped hurts."

"That was..."

Katarina let out a short breath and pressed her palm to Kyle's left cheek, the one she had struck.

"Sorry."

Brief. Genuine.

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