WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 42

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You're the One Who's My Father

The boy had red hair like rose petals and golden eyes. It was definitely a face he had never seen before, yet strangely, it did not feel like their first meeting.

A strange sense of déjà vu. Where had he seen him? No, he had never seen him. Then Aslan understood by instinct.

"You... no way..."

Aslan felt the blood in his body being pulled hard toward the boy. His heart pounded on its own, and he realized the boy in front of him shared a powerful bond with him.

"Are you... my son?"

Aslan's lips trembled.

It made no sense. That was his first thought. This sword maniac could not even properly tell how long he had shut himself inside the Cultivation Chamber.

That was how completely Aslan had clung to the sword all that time.

He swung his sword all day, and when he felt he could not move anymore, he dropped to the floor, circulated his Mana Cultivation Technique, and sank into meditation. Then, when he grasped a new sword path, he jumped back up and swung again. When he could no longer stay conscious, he collapsed and slept as if fainting, then staggered outside, chewed pills, came back in, swung again, circulated the Mana Cultivation Technique again, meditated again, swung again...

After living like that for twelve years, Aslan's sense of time had completely broken. Time spent madly chasing the sword had passed that fast.

It wasn't that he had never missed Arian. Many times, he had wanted to go outside and see her. She was surely furious. He had left her side after dropping only a letter saying he was entering Closed-Door Training.

But this stubborn, foolish man believed that enduring that bone-deep longing was also part of his trial. He believed that only by suppressing it and swinging his sword could he seize something greater.

More, more, swing more. If he broke through that wall, then he would finally go out, kneel before Arian, and apologize. That was how he steeled himself.

Without realizing that twelve years had already passed.

'How... old is he?'

Aslan swallowed hard. The years he had let slip by in sword-madness, years he had never truly felt, became a crushing violence that bore down on his mind.

The boy in front of him was clearly his and Arian's son. That much was certain, but the boy's age... even at the lowest guess, he looked older than ten.

'I've really been shut in here for over ten years?'

Then that meant Arian had already been carrying his son when he wrote that letter about entering seclusion. Aslan's body began to shake. He might have been stupid and stubborn, but he was not shameless trash.

He still did not know exactly how long he had been sealed in the Cultivation Chamber. Even so, the price of the time that had flowed away while he went mad for the sword felt unbearably cruel.

What had he been doing while Arian gave birth alone, raised their child alone, and brought him all the way to this age? He had been swinging a sword, only a sword. Intense self-loathing washed through him, and Aslan staggered upright.

He tried to stand.

Then he stopped and stared at Kyle.

His son, whose name he did not even know, had an unusual look in his eyes. There was no trace of longing, no resentment either. Aslan, as a swordsman, recognized that gaze.

Like a beast before prey. Like a swordsman measuring a sparring opponent, judging a rival. That cold, sharp look swept over Aslan's whole body.

It was not a gaze a boy should have, not an aura a boy should give off. Even inside the murderous storm of mana filling the Cultivation Chamber, his son did not even blink as he assessed Aslan.

'What is this...'

A warning rang from Aslan's warrior instincts. Separate from the pull of blood, a spine-chilling tension rose in him. His awkward half-standing posture snapped into a proper stance, and the sword he had set on the floor shot up into his palm as if sucked there.

At the same instant, Kyle kicked off the ground. Since his reincarnation, this was the first time he had released this much Killing Intent. It was also the first time he had resolved to fight with full power, with life-on-the-line force.

All of it drove Kyle's sword toward a certain kill.

Kwarrrr! Mana from the Primordial Chaos Art circulated through his body. Jor, coiled in his middle dantian, also released his power.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Mana, now reinforced by Jor, crept over the wooden sword like a snake, and Sword Qi of a purity beyond what had shattered the chamber lock earlier took shape.

Fwaaaash!

The mana exploding outward and coursing through his Circuits transformed even his physical movement. The moment Kyle kicked off, he crossed the distance in an instant and reached a position where he could kill Aslan.

He did not stop there. He ordered Jor: kill. It was Kyle's own vow as well.

Did he truly want to kill Aslan?
Did he have a reason he absolutely had to kill him?

Questions like that had no meaning and no weight for Kyle. He had loved the sword and swung it since his previous life. He knew exactly what swinging a sword meant.

There was no sword in this world that saved people, except a surgeon's scalpel. A battlefield sword was a weapon from birth, and the beauty of a blade held true value not when admired, but when swung at a person. Even if killing one could save ten thousand, one still had to die.

Kyle could swing a sword to kill even without some grand reason or moral sincerity.

'If he spent twelve years in Closed-Door Training and still can't block this one strike, then he might as well have thrown that time in the trash. Better to die.'

Kyle had seen the emotions that flashed through Aslan when he froze half-standing. Regret and self-reproach. He had no desire to watch this so-called father break down in guilt, weep, or beg forgiveness. If Aslan had sealed himself away for twelve years for the sword, then what he had to show his son now was proof those twelve years had not been wasted.

Kkkaaang!

Kyle's wooden sword, which had thrust straight for Aslan's throat, slipped to the side. His wrist felt like it would break, but Kyle smiled brightly. Aslan had redirected the attack with a clean, efficient motion.

Kyle's body, running at top speed, pitched forward. Boom! Using his braced leg as a pivot, he spun fully in the direction his sword had slid. The wooden blade, wrapped in unbroken Sword Qi, came crashing down on Aslan again.

Kwaaang!

This time, Aslan did not deflect it aside. He stayed rooted without taking a single step and received Kyle's wooden sword head-on. Aslan's eyes went wide at the heavy shock transmitted into his palm.

That weight did not come from raw muscle. It was pressure forged by compressing mana, rotating it, then detonating it. It was too violent to believe that force was carried by a single wooden sword. The son in front of him was operating mana with absurd precision and aggression.

'What kind of mana is this?'

Even Aslan could not identify the unknown violet Sword Qi wrapped around his son's wooden sword. It felt like many things were muddied together, but it was not unstable. Inside that Sword Qi, mana with different properties existed in harmonious balance.

Kwarrrr! Aslan's blade wrapped itself in white Aura, and the mana he unleashed became an intense storm that swallowed Kyle.

'Wind.'

The instant the storm crashed in, Kyle poured more mana into his wooden sword. Aslan had a wind spirit root. His swordsmanship turned each strand of wind into an attack, into a slash. Kyle responded by instinct, and his instinct was right. Chrrrraaaak! Sword Qi around Kyle's wooden sword twisted, and Aura burst out like dozens of serpents raising their heads.

"Hm...!"

Aslan murmured in low admiration and guided his blade. The wind that had been shredded by Kyle's Aura was gathered all at once and coiled around Aslan's sword. Wind concentrated into the blade became Aura again, rotating like a tornado.

'A frontal clash has no chance.'

Kyle judged calmly. This body was still immature. His mana was not enough. The Primordial Chaos Art was incomplete. In that state, there was no chance in a straight power struggle, sword against sword, against Aslan.

Then he would shave him down. He condensed the Sword Qi on his wooden sword thinner and sharper, and reinforced his body with every bit of remaining mana. Faster and more precise. The moment golden light flashed in Kyle's eyes, he accelerated harder and charged Aslan again.

As expected, Aslan could not release Killing Intent like Kyle's. The one before him was his son, whom he had seen for the first time today. Still, he could not accept that intent by offering his neck, so Aslan tried to subdue his son without harming him as much as possible.

But it was not as easy as he expected. His son's charging wooden sword never took the bait of the openings Aslan intentionally showed. Instead, the wooden sword stubbornly targeted Aslan's blade.

Then, just as sword and wooden sword were about to collide again, the direction of the wooden sword shifted slightly and grazed past the blade. Shock filled Aslan's eyes again.

'He cut my Sword Qi?'

Instead of colliding head-on, he had cut through it while slipping by. Aslan swung at once. Kyle swung as well. But again, blade and wooden sword did not strike each other.

'He read my sword path?'

Unbelievable, but no other thought fit. His son, while reading the path of Aslan's counter-swing, was avoiding collisions by the thinnest margin and shaving away only the Sword Qi.

'Not luck. This brat is really reading my sword path...!'

It made no sense. They had never crossed blades before, yet on first meeting he read the opponent's sword path? More than predicting and responding, he was even trimming Sword Qi in blade-to-blade exchanges. Reading it at all was absurd, and yet he showed not one speck of doubt in what he had read. His finely compressed Sword Qi was shocking on its own, but there were too many things even more shocking than that.

'Is he trying to exhaust my mana by shaving my Sword Qi? No... no, that's not it. He's... playing with my sword.'

Even if he shaved Aura like this, Aslan's mana would never run dry. Then why swing this way? To cross swords without clashing head-on. Aslan stared wide-eyed at his son. Bloodshot eyes tracked the blade's path, and a bright smile sat on his son's lips.

The instant he saw that.

Aslan's gaze changed.

A young boy, his own son, yes, but not someone he could look down on. The Killing Intent pouring from him was no bluff. The sword he swung was no lie. The son he met for the first time today had truly tried to kill his father, and now he was enjoying the sword as a swordsman.

The moment Aslan recognized that, his presence exploded. This was an opponent he could not afford to relax against. He held a wooden sword, but what stood before him was a real swordsman.

'Ah.'

The moment Aslan's eyes changed, his sword changed too. The sword path Kyle had read went off line. To read that deviation and correct his own path, sadly, his body could not keep up. Bitter frustration stabbed through Kyle as he drove his blade. A collision finally happened, despite all his attempts to avoid one.

Kkwa, crack!

The Aura around the wooden sword shattered, and Aslan's blade broke the wooden sword itself.

Aslan's hand suddenly drove in and grabbed Kyle's shoulder. Kwaaang! Aslan's sword, after breaking the wooden blade and falling, slammed into the chamber floor. The whole Cultivation Chamber shook, and a straight-line slash was carved from floor to ceiling.

"You..."

Aslan swallowed and looked at Kyle. Kyle, panting hard, looked back at Aslan. Twisting pain wrung his insides. The pain of depletion from mana running dry in his dantian made his vision swim.

"Are you really... my son?"

He could not believe it. No, he could barely accept it. The boy before him was a monster that Aslan's common sense could not explain.

At that question, Kyle forced up the corner of his stiff mouth. His face was drenched in sweat, but his expression was brighter than ever.

"You're the one who's really my father."

Kyle acknowledged Aslan.

He did not know what level Aslan had been at twelve years ago, but at least the Aslan he had seen today was a swordsman worthy of being called father.

"Ha... haha."

Aslan laughed, wrapped in an emotion he could not describe. He let go of the sword in his hand and used that hand to grip Kyle's shoulder.

"What's your name?"
"Kyle. Kyle Alastor."
"Alastor...? Wait..."
"I decided to make him an Alastor pure-blood."

A voice came from behind. Aslan flinched and raised his head.

Julius stood beyond the door with his arms crossed.

"His talent is far too great to carry on the Antares name. Do you have a complaint?"

Aslan recoiled, released Kyle's shoulder, and dropped to one knee.

"F-Father-in-law."
"So you do call me father-in-law. Shameless bastard. You left my daughter unattended for twelve years, and you dare call me father-in-law?"

At Julius's icy voice, Aslan's face turned pale.

"T-twelve... years?"
"Your son is eleven."

Julius stepped into the Cultivation Chamber.

"Aslan. You went into seclusion without even knowing your wife was pregnant. For twelve years."
"..."
"Looking at your face, it seems you swung your sword in a trance without even considering how much time had passed."
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry."
"If your sword had not improved after twelve years locked away, I was thinking about cutting off at least an arm as the price for wasted time."

Julius's cold eyes left Aslan. The eyes that turned toward the panting Kyle held a warmth Aslan had never seen in them before.

"How did it look to you?"
"His sword was too good to cut an arm for."
"Then I suppose I shouldn't cut it."

Julius clicked his tongue and muttered.

"F-Father-in-law, I..."

Aslan hesitated, trying to continue, but Kyle frowned and kicked his shin.

"Any excuses or apologies, say them to Mom, not Grandfather."

He had acknowledged him as father, but he still had no desire to speak politely to him. After snapping that out, Kyle staggered toward Julius.

"Since when were you watching?"
"From when you tried to kill Aslan."
"So you watched from the start. I told you to come in when I called."
"I came in because ominous Killing Intent was pouring out from in there. I thought Aslan might have gone insane, failed to recognize his son, and gone on a rampage."

Julius set his hand on top of Kyle's head as Kyle staggered closer.

"I never imagined you would be the one releasing that kind of Killing Intent."
"It just... happened while I was doing it."
"You're still impossible to understand."

Julius let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

"So what now? Are you taking your father and returning to the Sword Tower?"
"We'll make him kneel in front of Mom and beg properly."
"Your son wants that. Aslan, what about you?"

Aslan, who had been hanging his head in misery, flinched and looked up.

"O-Of course I have to go. I'll go and... ask Arian for forgiveness."
"Then go wash up first. Cut your hair and beard too. In front of my daughter after twelve years, with that ugly state..."
"No, let's take him just like that."

Kyle quickly cut in and interrupted Julius.

"He looks more pathetic and pitiful this way."

As repayment for the sword Aslan had shown him, Kyle felt he could stand on his father's side, just a little.

End
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