WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 25

──────

Pros and Cons

"Understood."

Katarina Alastor. The eldest daughter among Julius's nine children, born second after Karthan.

She had apologized, and meant it. Getting slapped out of nowhere wasn't exactly pleasant, but Katarina had done it out of genuine worry for her young nephew. Kyle wasn't petty enough to hold that against her.

"Where are you going?"

As he moved to leave the Sword Garden, Katarina called after him, that guilty look still on her face.

"I'm going to check out the archive on the second floor."
"The archive... you?"
"Yes. Grandfather gave me permission."

Surprise crossed Katarina's eyes. A five-year-old who hadn't even awakened his Spirit Root, granted access to the second-floor archive. The nephew her younger sister Arian had brought home kept surprising her in more ways than one.

"Aunt."

Kyle looked straight at her.

"I can keep coming here to see Baal, right?"
"Well..."
"If you're really worried, you're welcome to watch over me yourself."
"...Huu."

A short sigh. Katarina shook her head.

"I'm not free enough to keep watch over you at all times. Instead, when you're in the Sword Garden... a Funeral Knight will keep an eye on you."
"That's fine with me."

Kyle glanced at Lucia. She'd been briefly drawn in by Baal, but her eyes were calm and steady again, back to how they usually looked. Satisfied, he took one last look around the Sword Garden.

The form Baal had taken moments ago was no longer visible. But when he consciously looked for it, the faint outline was still there. The seal was holding.

"Then I'll see you next time."

He gave Katarina a polite bow and waved at Lucia.

The Great Archive, second floor of the Sword Tower. When he stepped off the lift, the librarian Nelia was already waiting.

"I heard from the Family Head."

She smiled warmly and led Kyle by the hand. Below the lobby, enormous bookshelves stretched down out of sight. He'd seen the scale of it before, but it was just as breathtaking the second time around.

"In all of Alastor's history, no one as young as you has ever been granted access to the Great Archive."

Nelia reached out and stroked the railing. With a low clunk, the floor detached and began to glide through the air above the bookshelves.

"The Family Head granted you access to the tier-five sword forms. Whenever you touch the railing like that from now on, the floor will move and carry you to the tier-five shelves."
"There are so many books."

Five hundred years was a long time, but the books here were only those the Alastor Family had deemed worthy. Thinking of it that way, the sheer number still felt excessive.

"They kept being added to. Many people read one book, each finds something to refine, and writes a new one. If you can follow along, comparing an original text to its revisions is quite interesting."
"So the Great Archive isn't only for pure-bloods?"
"If someone earns merit or proves their worth, even a non-pure-blood can enter the Great Archive. They simply can't move about as freely as a pure-blood."

Pure-bloods had their privileges, but that didn't mean they held an absolute monopoly. Running things any other way would lead only to stagnation, and no family could hold onto the title of the continent's foremost Martial family for five hundred years by stagnating.

In other words, strength alone was enough for even a collateral branch member to become Family Head of Alastor. In five hundred years of history, no such case had ever occurred.

To prevent a collateral member from seizing the position. To reign absolutely above their retainers. These were the reasons pure-bloods had to endure that pressure and forge themselves without rest. And on top of that, Alastor's 'blood' had been refined over five centuries to grow stronger by necessity.

"The tier-five sword forms are gathered over here. Any more questions?"
"No, none."

"Far sharper than Arian was at your age. Clever thing." Nelia smiled. "If you get hungry while reading, call for me anytime. I'll bring you something sweet."

She ruffled Kyle's hair, stepped back onto the platform, and glided down to the lobby.

'This tower never gets any less strange.'

Only three days since he'd arrived, so it couldn't be helped. Kyle stroked the railing and worked out how it responded. Think up, it rose. Think down, it dropped. Think sideways, it shifted.

To a five-year-old's body, the shelves loomed impossibly high, but with the railing moving exactly as he willed, scanning them proved no trouble at all.

Three shelves in total. A rough count put each at nearly five hundred volumes. The lowest tier, tier five, sword forms alone: fifteen hundred books. Kyle shook his head at the scale of it and moved toward the first title that caught his eye.

Gale Sword Art.

A blunt name. Five hundred years ago, there were probably more than ten sword arts circulating on the continent under something similar.

'Why are there so many of them?'

Seven volumes under that title alone. Kyle pulled out the first one and opened it.

A sword art you could picture just from the name. And it was exactly that. The Gale Sword Art pursued wind-like speed, its movements built from clean sweeping slashes and straight-line thrusts.

'It's not just the movements. The mana flow is written out in detail too.'

Swinging the arm to drive the blade while simultaneously moving the mana through the body. Writing that entire process out made the explanations long by necessity. Kyle nodded and pulled out another volume.

The first had been the original text. This was a revision. He narrowed his eyes and focused.

'Same movements, different mana flow.'

Five hundred years ago, Kyle had used mana too. The Blessing of Mana, earned through countless battles and brushes with death.

When you received the Blessing of Mana, a crystallization of mana formed where your heart was. A core. Once the core was there, you kept fighting, kept surviving, and the mana in it slowly grew.

Easy to say. Far harder in practice.

The core's growth was painful enough to make you wish you were dead. The first time you tried to circulate mana, and every time you tried to circulate it differently, it felt like being torn apart from the inside, split in thousands upon thousands of directions. A growing core was like growing muscle, if you had to draw the comparison.

Through that agony, you still had to swing a sword, fight, and survive. The Blessing of Mana was a reward earned through suffering.

'The mana cultivation of this era is definitely different.'

The Spirit Root, something he'd only ever heard spoken of. Now he understood clearly how the mana it enabled differed from five hundred years ago.

With the Spirit Root's awakening, the body could 'feel' the mana in the air. Through the Mana Cultivation Method, that mana was then guided into the body. Five hundred years ago, mana accumulated in the core at the heart. In this era, it was gathered in a place in the lower abdomen called the lower dantian.

No brutal battles required. No brushes with death necessary. The Mana Cultivation Method built a core in the lower dantian and filled it with mana, steadily and safely.

What's more, the Spirit Root's awakening also opened 'circuits' throughout the body. Five hundred years ago, to spread mana through the body you had to grit your teeth and tear those pathways open yourself, forcing mana through your own flesh. Now the Spirit Root's awakening and the circuits' opening happened together, making it easy to push mana anywhere.

'Watching Bruno push out aura at ten had given him some idea, but he hadn't expected it to be this comfortable.'

Reading the original Gale Sword Art against its revision, something settled into place.

'Comfortable doesn't necessarily mean superior.'

The body of this era, with its awakened Spirit Roots and open circuits, was far too accommodating. Five hundred years ago, anything difficult, anything impossible, was simply forced open by brute tearing. The contrast was stark.

'This era has no need for that. The Spirit Root's awakening and the circuits' opening happen together.'

Each had its pros and cons.

The five hundred years the Sword Demon had lived were brutal and painful. But they were fast and strong. By forcing mana through at any cost, the human body reached places pure physical training could never touch.

But it was dangerous. One misstep and the core could shatter, or the mana flow within could go berserk. Either outcome: a cripple for life, unable to lift a finger. Or death.

Cultivating mana in this era, by comparison, was considerably safer. Not absolutely safe, of course. Various factors could still leave a practitioner paralyzed. The odds were low, though. Working mana through already-opened circuits was elegant and precise.

Still. The explosive force felt lacking. At least, reading through the books, it felt that way. The ceiling was lower, you might say.

'Just as innate talent isn't equal at birth, neither are the Spirit Roots that awaken. Depending on the Spirit Root, circuits have their limits.'

He understood now why a single original text had spawned so many revisions. Everyone's circuits were different, so each person's own insights and methods built up into new books over time.

Five hundred years ago, brute-forcing it open was simply what you did. This era didn't work that way. People living now couldn't imagine a time without Spirit Roots.

'And once you awaken a Spirit Root, you become heavily bound to the nature of its element.'

Erika had awakened an ice Spirit Root and learned the Snow Flower Sword Art, which breathed cold into every movement. He hadn't seen it himself, but Julius, who had awakened a lightning Spirit Root, would have trained in sword arts tied to lightning as well.

A Spirit Root was an affinity for an element. The mana felt through an awakened Spirit Root and cultivated through the Mana Cultivation Method took on that element's nature.

Someone who awakened a wind Spirit Root would find it tremendously difficult to infuse their mana with flame. The cultivation efficiency would suffer, and the aura's power would drop noticeably.

'From where I stand, the whole idea of infusing elements into mana is strange to begin with. Mana is just mana. Aura is just aura.'

Kyle opened the remaining Gale Sword Art volumes and read through them with focus. Even without a Spirit Root or circuits yet, the Sword Demon's memories made books at this level fully comprehensible just from reading.

"Hm."

After going through all seven volumes, Kyle slid them back onto the shelf.

'The Gale Sword Art. Not bad, but...'

It might be too early to judge from just one sword art, but he committed to a conclusion anyway.

'The swordsmanship of this era is comfortable and safe. But too tame.'

Locked into the framework of Spirit Roots and circuits, it only tried to walk established paths. Awaken a wind Spirit Root, learn the Gale Sword Art. Awaken an ice Spirit Root, learn the Snow Flower Sword Art.

'Efficient, yes. But in chasing efficiency, it closes off possibility.'

The ease of absorbing mana through Spirit Root awakening had become its own kind of poison. Honestly, the brutal slog of earning the Blessing of Mana five hundred years ago had been freer. This era drew its limits too early.

'Circuits aren't immutable, from what he could tell... but the flow that begins from the lower dantian makes pioneering new circuits extremely difficult.'

You had to refine the existing circuits for a long time and fill the lower dantian to the brim before you could open new ones. All seven Gale Sword Art volumes were chasing maximum efficiency and power within existing circuits, each in their own way.

The Sword Demon's era was brutal and savage. But it was free, and without limits.

And if you failed?

Dead. Or crippled.

A forty-year war that never ended. Without that resolve, and that particular brand of madness, you couldn't survive a battlefield with a sword in your hand.

'Take what's worth taking. The swordsmanship of this era has its own appeal.'

Kyle looked around the shelves. Fifteen hundred books. Titles that caught his interest were everywhere.

Five years remained until this body would awaken its Spirit Root and open its circuits. He looked at the shelves and grinned.

The next five years didn't look boring. In that time, he would read through every last tier-five sword art. And in doing so, he would evolve the Sword Demon's experience and strengths into something suited to this era.

'Feel mana through the Spirit Root, while simultaneously building cores in both the dantian and the heart. Where circuits fall short or chafe, forge new ones, and absorb every sword art here into the body.'

His chest pounded.

'What Spirit Root he'd awaken was beyond knowing. Maybe the influence of the thunderstone and the lightning spirit would steer him toward a lightning Spirit Root. If so, he'd fold it into his swordsmanship his own way.'

The corners of his mouth twitched.

'And he had talent in Spirit Arts on top of everything else. Later, he might form contracts with spirits beyond just the lightning one. That could free his swordsmanship from the constraints of any Spirit Root entirely. There was the Dokkaebi affinity too. What if the weapons in the Sword Garden held martial knowledge that had never been written down?'

Still unreached. But possibilities he could see.

Kyle's eyes blazed with something hungry. The drive for knowledge. The desire to grow stronger. Both shone like gold.

He chuckled and pulled out a new book.

Five years passed, and Kyle Alastor's tenth birthday arrived.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried