WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 36

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A Strange Feeling

"Lucia."
"Yes, Kyle-nim."

Lucia had been standing quietly through all of it, listening. She answered now.

"When you deflected Bruno's sword earlier, your wrist stung a bit, didn't it?"
"Yes, a little."

She nodded and rolled her wrist. Technique or not, Bruno's raw strength and the mass of that greatsword were nothing to dismiss. On top of that, she had done exactly as Kyle told her, meeting Bruno's sword with minimal mana and only moderate effort.

"See, Pig. It's not that your sword had no effect on Lucia at all. If you hadn't given up the moment you thought you were losing, if you'd planted your feet and reset your center and come back at her, it wouldn't have ended in a single exchange."

"S, sure, say I reset my center. But the sword had already gone wide. How was I supposed to swing again?"

"God. Pig, is that body of yours just for show? Ram her with your shoulder. Drop the sword and throw a punch. There's no shortage of options."

"Is that... sword technique?"

"If you win with a sword in your hand, it's sword technique."

"But say I actually ram her. You think Lucia would just stand there and take it? Her sword would..."

"Stab your shoulder. Nothing to be done about that. Just take the stab and push through. Your body is tough enough."

Bruno's jaw dropped.

"And if it's not just a stab but your arm gets cut off, well. That can't be helped either."

"What do you mean, can't be helped...?!"

"That's the price you pay for swinging your sword like an idiot. Who else would you blame?"

"You're the one who told me to spar!"

"Pig. Is it my fault you swung your sword like that?"

Kyle shrugged.

"You waited for your opponent to move, then lost patience and rushed in first. If you're going to do that, you should already know what to do when the attack fails."

"..."

"You think your opponent was waiting because they're stupid? The moment you lunged first, you walked right into their hand. And one more thing, standing there waiting for your opponent to move, doesn't that make you feel like you're about to crawl out of your skin?"

Does this kid actually read minds? Bruno faltered.

"Th, that's..."

"You don't want to wait properly and make your opponent desperate to come in. Standing still drives you mad. So what are you going to do?"

"In that case... if I press forward first, apply pressure..."

"You can't apply pressure. You're too emotional for that. And on top of that, you give up fast."

"So I have to fix my personality too..."

Bruno's mouth twisted. His personality had always been a target of his father's criticism.

"Giving up too fast is a weakness worth fixing. Being emotional, though, that's a trait worth using if you learn how."

Kyle tilted his head.

"You've got a short fuse. When you snap, your eyes go somewhere else entirely. You tried to kill a five-year-old with Aura."

"That, that was..."

"A moment ago you got riled up because you felt looked down on by me and Lucia."

"..."

"Just stay angry. Force it if you have to. When you're fighting, imagine the person in front of you is your uncle's worst enemy."

"What...?"

"Stop standing around like an idiot waiting until you can't take it anymore and then lunging in. Just charge from the start. Big body, greatsword. Smash your way through, no thinking required."

"W, wait."

Bruno cut him off, alarmed.

"The Bedrock Sword Art I trained in isn't like that. This technique..."

"Did your uncle tell you to learn it?"

"..."

"What is your uncle's sword like?"

Kyle folded his arms. Bruno hesitated before answering.

"Father's sword is... like a great mountain. Just standing still, there's not a single gap. Just facing him eats away at you from the inside. And if you force yourself to charge in anyway, it comes crashing down like that mountain collapsing."

"When he attacks first?"

"Nothing. You can't do anything. Can't block it. Can't dodge it... Father's sword is heavy and enormous."

Kyle's own impression of Barkas hadn't been particularly measured. The man was fierce and explosive, like a bear. But listening to Bruno, it was clear that Barkas's sword ran clean opposite to his nature, and that was exactly why anyone who faced it would feel something stranger, something harder to shake.

'A sword doesn't have to follow the person's nature.'

To master a sword that ran counter to one's own character, then weaponize the unsettling dissonance it produced. That was what Barkas had refined over years of training. He had the control to press his fiery temperament flat beneath a mountain's worth of patience.

Bruno, though, wasn't built for it. Forcing it down just gave him indigestion. A soy sauce dish trying to hold lava.

"Your uncle is your uncle, and you are you."

Kyle said it flatly.

"Your uncle took his anger and compressed it into something heavy as a mountain. You suppress yours and become a useless half-measure. Your uncle is experienced. You're not. And you have no patience on top of that."

"But it's still the sword style Father told me to learn..."

"Who said don't learn it? I'm saying change how you use it. What's your spirit root?"

"Earth Spirit Root..."

The earth is vast and solid. It doesn't surge like the sea, sway like the wind, rage like fire, or chill like ice. Always still. Holding everything firm beneath it.

"A jagged rock face is still earth. Sticky mud is earth. Soil and sand slipping through your fingers, that's earth too. A shaking earthquake is earth. A collapsing landslide is earth."

Tap. Kyle flicked a finger against the greatsword.

"The heart of the Bedrock Sword Art is weight and hardness. Why does that have to mean standing still? Boulders roll. A landslide is just earth and stone moving. Don't be a mountain standing still. Be a boulder rolling through everything in its path."

Bruno's mouth fell open.

"I've been buried in the Great Archive reading sword arts, and there are a lot of techniques with the same name. Same name, but each one's form and structure is a little different. Have you ever read a different version of the Bedrock Sword Art manual?"

"No... I haven't."

"You've only ever learned exactly what your uncle told you to. Stupid pig. Would you die if he told you to?"

"..."

"That bracelet."

Kyle's gaze dropped to Bruno's wrist.

"You said it disrupts mana circulation. Have you tried running mana through different Circuits instead of the blocked ones?"

"N... no."

"Why not?"

"Because I've never... tried."

"I don't know what cultivation technique you're running. Don't particularly care, either. But there's a saying: if you don't have teeth, chew with your gums. Circuits are blocked? Try different ones."

"What kind of crude..."

"Clinging to something that isn't working is just as crude, if you ask me."

Kyle snorted and looked Bruno in the eye.

"Be flexible, Pig. Swinging a sword isn't about following a manual. Neither is controlling mana."

"That might be easy for a genius like you..."

"It's not easy for me either, and you're right about that. You're not as capable as I am, so it's probably even harder for you. But what can you do. If you want to get good at it, you work for it."

Not a single word of it had been mockery. That arrogant cousin of his, from first word to last, had been giving Bruno genuine advice, all of it aimed at making him a better swordsman. And the advice was deeper and heavier than anything a ten-year-old had any right to say.

"Why..."

Bruno asked, stumbling over the words.

"Why are you saying all this to me?"

That was what he couldn't make sense of. Five years ago he had picked a fight with Kyle over nothing, and in a flash of rage had nearly killed him.

Since then he had done nothing to earn Kyle's goodwill. A week ago, when his father sent him to spar with Kyle, Bruno had been quietly pleased. He had thought it was his chance to put that smug, insufferable cousin, the one the Family Head always doted on, face down in the dirt.

That cousin who was nothing like a ten-year-old couldn't have missed it. Today alone, Kyle had seen through him more than once.

"I've done nothing to deserve any of this from you..."

"Because you're family?"

Kyle tipped his head.

"Because you're my cousin? Because we're close in age? Something like that. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other for a long time."

"..."

"You're an Alastor and so am I. I just don't want to be embarrassed someday because we share the same name. And it'd be a shame for you to become a disgrace to the family."

"Is that what you think of me..."

"Not right now. But who knows how things will go."

Kyle snorted and patted Bruno on the shoulder.

"Go home today."

"Why?"

"Go and talk to your uncle properly. Tell him the sword you've been training in doesn't suit you and you want to try something new. If he asks where you picked up these ideas, tell him you heard them from me."

"There's no way Father would accept..."

"You haven't asked."

"..."

"If he says no, persuade him until he says yes. Then come back."

"When I come back?"

"We do what we did today. Play around with swords."

Kyle grinned. It was a perfectly clean smile, impossible to fault. So blameless it almost read as shameless, like Bruno's fear and frustration were simply no concern of his.

"Ha..."

Something about that smile made Bruno laugh before he could stop himself. He shook his head, snorting, then tucked the greatsword into his dimensional pouch and pulled on his vest, fastening the pocket to his leg.

"Thanks."

He left that word behind and walked toward the Cultivation Chamber door. Before stepping out, he stopped and turned back.

"You too... thank you."

Bruno gave Lucia a small nod. His voice had shrunk to something that didn't match his size, and the bow was barely a bow at all. But the words reached her.

He was out the door before she could respond. Lucia stood there a moment, then turned to Kyle.

"Did Bruno-nim just... say thank you to me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't understand why he'd thank me. I didn't do anything."

"Right. Little punk should have said sorry, not thank you."

"Why should he say sorry?"

"Dragging you away from training was his fault. And he's been looking down on you and giving you trouble, hasn't he?"

"That's fine. I ignore it, so it doesn't bother me."

Lucia smiled faintly and sheathed her sword.

"Kyle-nim. Aren't you going to say anything to me?"

"Like what?"

"You gave Bruno-nim advice about his sword."

"There's nothing to say to you. You're doing too well."

It wasn't a lie. Lucia had been learning the sword from the Elders of the Sword Tower since before she became a Knight Candidate. Five years of regular sparring, and her sword had never given Kyle anything to pick apart.

"You must be able to see the gaps in my sword, Kyle-nim."

"Come on. What would I be able to see?"

He had already said far too many things in front of Bruno that no ten-year-old should be saying. Start picking apart Lucia's sword too, and he'd push even further past where he had any business being. Kyle played dumb and shrugged.

That evening.

After a long run back through the residential district, Bruno came home, washed up, changed his clothes, and stood before the door to Barkas's Cultivation Chamber.

His palms were damp.

He had never once talked back to his father, never pushed back or offered his own opinion. To Bruno, his father was as absolute and terrifying as the Family Head, in some ways, more so.

'I am... I'm Pig.'

The name Kyle had been throwing at him all day spun in his ears like a mantra. Bruno took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in."

The moment that low, heavy voice reached him, his knees went weak. He hit his trembling legs a few times with his fist, then pushed the door open and walked in.

At the center of the Cultivation Chamber, its walls lined with gray ore, Barkas sat with his shirt off. With each breath he drew through closed eyes, the ore around him trembled, his dense muscle fibers twitching in rhythm.

"You weren't running this morning."

He didn't open his eyes. His voice rolled like something out of the bottom of a deep cave. He had to know roughly what had happened, but he was making Bruno say it himself.

"I went to see... Kyle."

"While stopping the training I assigned you."

"Yes..."

"What did you do there?"

"I sparred with... Lucia."

Barkas's eyes opened at that. Dark green irises fixed on Bruno, sharp and predatory.

"I wondered why that half-blood had come up to the fourth floor. So that was it."

"..."

"There's no way you won. So you came here to confess because you're ashamed of losing so badly to something like a half-blood?"

"N, no."

Bruno shook his head.

"I came to... get permission from Father."

"Permission? For what?"

Barkas's brow twitched.

"I want to... change the sword technique I'm currently training in..."

Barkas's eyes narrowed. A dangerous sign.

"You want to change it? I don't understand what you're saying. Explain it so your father can understand."

The pressure rolling off Barkas pressed down on Bruno from all sides. Each breath felt like pulling air through something solid. Deep down, the urge to bow and beg forgiveness was already stirring.

"I am... I'm not Father."

Bruno shoved that urge back down and pressed on, stumbling over the words.

"I can't wield a sword the way Father does. I have no patience, and I'm not experienced enough."

"All that buildup, and what you've come to do is complain that it's too hard."

Barkas's brow twisted. The pressure redoubled, bearing down on Bruno's shoulders. He refused to fold his knees.

"I'm not complaining...!"

The words came out louder. Louder than he had ever been with his father.

"Waiting feels like it will drive me insane...! I don't have the head to read my opponent's moves! When I try to copy Father, it doesn't fit my body, I can't breathe...!"

Bruno beat his chest.

"Kyle said it. Don't be a standing mountain. Be a boulder that rolls and crushes everything in its path. That's my nature...!"

"Of all the..."

Barkas was on his feet. He pushed himself up and crossed the room in long strides.

"You thought the drivel that arrogant little brat was spouting was better than fifteen years of your father's teaching?"

"Father..."

Bruno's voice came out trembling. Every step Barkas took toward him made him want to buckle to the floor, but he kept his eyes fixed on his father with everything he had.

"You've never... let me do what I wanted to do."

"..."

"The cultivation manuals I trained in, the sword I learned. All of it... you chose for me."

"Because I trained in them."

Barkas said.

"You are my son. One day you will inherit my sword art. But right now you've let yourself be turned by the tongue of a kid five years younger than you, and you're standing there denying your father's sword."

"I'm not... denying it. I just want to try swinging a sword the way I feel it, the way it comes naturally..."

"You're refusing what I told you to do and you say that's not denying it? What nonsense has been put in your head?"

"Do you... do you want me to become the exact same swordsman as you, Father?"

At that, Barkas's steps stopped. He stood there a moment, just staring at Bruno.

"One day you will inherit my sword, and you will surpass it. I don't want you to become exactly the same swordsman I am. You need to become stronger than me."

"I have... no confidence in that."

Bruno shook his head.

"Learning the same sword as Father, then surpassing Father. I don't have the confidence..."

"..."

"That's why I want to try holding the sword differently. I'm not throwing away Father's teaching. Someday, when I can truly understand Father's sword..."

"If it's already become a different sword from mine by then, how exactly do you plan to understand my sword?"

A barb in every word. Bruno had no answer.

Heavy silence.

Barkas looked at his son. Shaking, but not kneeling.

He should have been disappointed. The boy had been swept up in some out-of-nowhere nonsense and was blathering about changing his sword. Fifteen years of a father's teaching, denied.

But.

'His eyes are different.'

The look in Bruno's eyes as he had shouted and pushed back. Knees that hadn't bent. Even now, Bruno was looking directly at him.

Barkas didn't think his sword, his teaching, was wrong. Didn't think it was wrong for Bruno, either. Sons take after their fathers. Uncomfortable now or not, keep at it long enough and that sword would become what Barkas wanted it to be.

But could that be called Bruno's sword? He turned that over for a moment.

"Here's what we'll do."

Barkas spoke.

"Do what you want. Whether you change your sword after being charmed by that little brat's words is none of my concern."

"...!"

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not giving permission because I think I was wrong. The only way to break your stubbornness is to let you feel in your bones how wrong your way is. I'll evaluate your sword personally, once every year."

Barkas's lips twisted.

"If your progress doesn't match the words you spoke today, I'll sever the tie between us. At that point you'll no longer be an Alastor, so go back to your mother."

Bruno's mouth fell open.

"If that frightens you, beg forgiveness for the nonsense you spoke today and swing your sword the way you always have. The choice is yours."

"I... I..."

A long hesitation. Bruno squeezed his eyes shut. Disappointment crossed Barkas's face. But Bruno opened them again and pulled himself straight.

"Understood. Every year from now on... I'll show Father my sword. If it doesn't satisfy you... then at that point... I'll go to Mother."

"Ha."

A short, involuntary sound left Barkas.

"You mean that?"

"Yes..."

"Ha..."

Another short sound. He shook his head several times.

"Get out."

He hadn't expected that answer. Not at all.

Left alone in the Cultivation Chamber, Barkas dropped to the floor and sat with his thoughts.

'Kyle Alastor...'

Just ten years old. A child who had only just awakened his spirit root. And he had handled Bruno exactly as he pleased.

He should have felt disgusted. Instead, a strange chill ran down his spine. Because he had been admitting it to himself in private. Bruno's temperament wasn't like his own. Bruno's sword couldn't become Barkas's sword, not as things stood. To make it happen, he'd have to melt Bruno down like steel and hammer him back into shape.

'Normally he wouldn't even be able to meet my eyes. He should have been begging forgiveness by now...'

His son pushing back like that. Raising his voice. Defying him. First time for any of it.

"What a strange feeling."

Barkas let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

Irritated. Annoyed. Insolent.

And, just a little, proud.

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