WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 5

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Gladiheim

The Rose Mansion stood apart from the city of Vigrid, and the Blade Mountains stretched across the north of the city.

The direct and collateral branches bearing the Alastor name, along with the knights sworn to their service, all resided at Gladiheim in the Blade Mountains.

Before her marriage, Arian had lived in Gladiheim too. After running away and coming back to Vigrid, she'd used her own money to buy the Rose Mansion at the city's edge and never returned.

'They must know.'

The Alastor family's eyes had reached even the foreign country where Arian had gone to be wed. The very maids serving at the Rose Mansion had come from Gladiheim to serve her.

And yet, for five years, not a single person had come to find her. Well, it wasn't as though she'd come back with anything to brag about. Arian watched the walls of Vigrid growing nearer, eyes narrowed to a scowl.

'Father must have strictly forbidden anyone from going. Stubborn old man.'

He certainly knew she'd had a child. Five years of silence despite knowing could only mean one thing: he was waiting for her to come back on her own.

"Huu..."

Arian had been twenty-three when she married and left Vigrid. Now she was twenty-nine. Six years. The thought of seeing her father and siblings after all that time filled her with an anxiety she couldn't shake.

"Mom."

Squeeze.

A soft hand covered her clenched fist. She startled and looked down. There he was, her son, golden eyes blinking up at her, angelic and impossibly adorable.

"Don't you want to go?"

She'd never raised a child herself before. But she'd helped with younger siblings growing up, and she knew small children noticed far more than anyone gave them credit for. Arian softened into a smile and pulled him in tight.

"No, it's fine. We have to meet them someday anyway."

Guilt hit her, quick and sharp, for dragging her son into her own tangled feelings. Mercurial as she was, she swallowed it back, the self-reproach for the impulsive escape five years ago, and for being pulled back to Vigrid at all.

Kyle read it in her.

'Well, that happens.'

Five years of Arian's love had made it impossible to blame her for anything. He gently stroked her trembling hand and looked out toward Gladiheim.

The Sword Demon Raikal had died in defeat at the hands of Ruin Alastor, the Alastor founding ancestor.

But the reincarnated Kyle carried not a shred of resentment toward Ruin. In the wars he had lived through, it was simply natural for the defeated and the weak to die. If you didn't want to die, you ran, even if it meant swallowing your pride.

The Sword Demon had never considered retreating in defeat to be particularly shameful. He was a mercenary, not some honor-bound knight. Born the son of a mercenary.

That truth had been beside him from the moment he first drew breath. In the end, the most important thing in the world was your own life. As long as you were alive, you could think about what came next. Even if you lost right now, as long as you didn't die.

You could eat. Sleep. Look back at what went wrong. Fight again.

That was how the Sword Demon had lived his entire life.

With one exception. The fight against Ruin Alastor.

'That was a fight I didn't want to run from.'

If he had tried to run, could he have?

Probably. He believed he had the skill for it, and he doubted Ruin would have bothered chasing down a fleeing Sword Demon.

But he hadn't wanted to run. If he could, he would have fought forever.

It wasn't some desperate resolve to face death head-on. He'd just been having too much fun. He couldn't stop swinging his sword. So he kept going, and going, and going, and then.

He died.

Looking back, that was the whole of it. Nothing dramatic about it. He'd heard about this nameless man who had ended the empire's chaos, some figure who had come down from a mountain where he'd been holed up alone. Same as always, Kyle had been curious about just how strong this person was. Same as always, he'd rushed headlong over.

Fought, enjoyed himself, lost, died.

That was all there was to it. And yet Kyle felt something close to reverence for Ruin Alastor: the first person he'd ever met, ever fought, ever been killed by. A strange comparison, maybe, but the feeling was something like a first love.

'No, not a first love.'

If this kind of feeling counted as a first love, then Kyle's first love had been the sword itself. Strictly speaking, Ruin Alastor was his second.

'So I don't hold any resentment toward you. I've killed plenty of people in my time. Holding a grudge because you killed me would just be small-minded.'

And on top of that, he'd been reincarnated.

Absurd as it was, being reborn as a descendant of Ruin Alastor.

Kyle held reverence for Ruin, not resentment, and so there was nothing to carry toward his descendants either.

At least, not right now.

If they mistreated Arian, or for some reason turned on him too...

Other feelings might find their way in. That was just how people were.

"Let's go down."

The flight halted near the gates of Gladiheim. Kyle looked down and his eyes lit up.

Along the hill leading to the gates, old weapons had been driven into the earth at intervals.

"That's the Paegeomro, the Path of Defeated Swords. Some people also call it the Hill of Lamentation."

Arian whispered.

"For five hundred years, those who came to challenge the founding ancestor, and those who came to invade the Alastor family, their weapons stand here as gravestones. Unsightly, isn't it? I've always wished they'd just clear it all aw..."

"Whoa!"

Before Arian could finish, Kyle let out a cry of wonder. The moment his feet touched the ground, he made straight for the nearest sword.

The path was called Paegeomro, but the weapons embedded across the hill weren't all swords. Swords were by far the most common, though.

These days the Alastor family was known for other weapons besides the sword, but the founding ancestor had used a sword, and so at its root the Alastor family was a sword house. Those who had come to challenge them had been overwhelmingly swordsmen.

"Gravestones..."

His chest thrumming with excitement, Kyle swept his gaze across the weapon in front of him and then across the weapons scattered all over the hill. He had been one of them, a challenger who had faced Ruin Alastor and died in defeat, so standing here he felt a kind of kinship with these predecessors.

Whooooo...

At the same time he understood why this place was also called the Hill of Lamentation. The wind rushing through the Blade Mountains passed between the weapons and rose into a sound like weeping.

Tingle.

From within that weeping, Kyle felt something stir deep inside him. A warmth rolled through his lower abdomen.

'Hm?'

Blinking, Kyle pressed a hand to his belly. The sensation wasn't unfamiliar, but... that couldn't be right. He tilted his head and turned back to Arian.

"Can I take one of these?"

"You... probably shouldn't."

Arian trailed off and looked at the weapons along the Paegeomro. The weapons here belonged to the weak, unworthy of remembrance. Some went back hundreds of years, untended and, for the most part, rusted and broken beyond use.

"That's dirty, don't touch it."

"But I want it..."

Since turning four and learning to speak properly, Kyle had almost never let the baby talk slip through. Now, for the first time in a long while, he let a little lisp creep in.

"Even if you want it, you can't! That's dirty! If you touch it you'll get an owie, an owie!"

"Ngh..."

Even at five, Kyle had never once held a sword. Not even a wooden one.

There weren't any at the Rose Mansion, but the real reason was Arian's strict prohibition.

In the Alastor family, any child born into the line who wished to formally walk the path of martial arts had to receive the family head's permission first.

Until then, children were not allowed to handle real weapons. Partly because weapons were dangerous for small hands, and partly because training too early interfered with growth. But the biggest reason was that they were not yet physically or mentally mature enough to bear the name of Alastor.

"There are plenty of swords like this inside!"

Kyle's eyes lit up at that.

"Really? Lots of them?"

"Of course! And there are more gravestones like these in front of the castle, too."

"More gravestones?"

"Yes! For the knights and vassals who served the Alastor family across the centuries, and also for worthy challengers and enemies, those deemed worth remembering."

"Whoa!"

His eyes sparkled.

Worthy challengers.

[Sword Demon Raikal. I will remember you.]

The words Ruin Alastor had spoken as he lay dying came back to him. Perhaps somewhere among those gravestones, the sword he had wielded five hundred years ago was waiting. Kyle clenched his fist tight with anticipation.

'He said he'd remember, so it has to be there. It has to be.'

The Sword Demon's own father had died without even his name being remembered by the knight who killed him.

"If the family head gives permission today, I'll let you hold a sword. And I'll find you a master to teach you."

Arian whispered, pinching his soft cheek as she said it. He wasn't genuinely sulking, just playing the part, but the effect was good either way. Kyle beamed and nodded.

Somewhere inside him lived a very grown-up Sword Demon. But in front of Arian, Kyle acted his age.

'Maybe it's because I never got enough love from a mom in my past life...'

Thinking that, Kyle took Arian's hand and walked toward the gates of Gladiheim.

Even though they must have spotted the approaching flight long ago, the gates of Gladiheim remained closed. Arian stared at the firmly shut gates and clicked her tongue.

'So they did know I was back in Vigrid.'

And yet no one had come to check on her in all that time. She supposed she deserved the cold welcome for not reaching out first. Still, knowing she hadn't come alone and greeting her this coldly anyway, she felt embarrassed and sorry for her son.

"Halt."

The knights standing guard at the gates stepped forward to block her. The Black Iron Knights, called the Alastor family's shield, tasked with defending the main stronghold. A knight in a black uniform lowered his head respectfully.

"Lady Arian, it has been a long time."

"It has, Sir Raymond. For the captain himself to be standing gate duty, I suppose the Black Iron Knights must have had a staffing shortage while I was away."

"A pureblooded Alastor has returned. Of course I had to greet you in person."

"A lovely welcome. It would have been even better if you'd thrown the gates wide open."

"Had you come alone, Lady Arian, I would have opened the gates and welcomed you with open arms."

Raymond kept his head lowered as he said it. Arian let out a short laugh and squeezed Kyle's hand.

"Raise your head, Sir Raymond."

"Yes."

"First of all, I apologize for arriving without notice."

"You needn't say such things. Lady Arian is Alastor's pureblooded. This is Gladiheim. You are always welcome to come and go as you please."

"Which means this child's right has not yet been established."

Raymond answered with an awkward expression. He bent down to Kyle's eye level.

The family's troublemaker had married six years ago and left, and now she had returned with a small child. He hadn't been told directly, but it wasn't hard to guess who the child was.

All the same, he was the captain of the Black Iron Knights, Gladiheim's shield. Opening the gates to someone whose identity had not been confirmed was not something he could do. Raymond asked with proper courtesy.

"And who might this be?"

"My son. Kyle, say hello. This is Raymond Alastor. He's a distant relative of yours."

A collateral branch, far removed from the direct line. They shared the Alastor name, but direct and collateral were never equals.

"Hello."

Kyle knew the difference perfectly well. A direct-line member was under no obligation to bow to a collateral branch.

But Kyle bowed his head anyway. Setting aside the question of direct and collateral branches, he was paying his respects to Raymond's strength. As captain of the Black Iron Knights, Raymond was a man who had earned the right to be recognized as a true warrior. And that recognition, entirely apart from this small body, kept pressing at the Sword Demon's soul.

'If only I were a bit bigger.'

He wanted to fight him. Kyle smacked his lips in frustration and swallowed it down. A collateral member couldn't refuse a direct-line request, sure, but no knight would ever accept a challenge from a five-year-old.

"Lady Arian's son...!"

He had guessed, but having it confirmed still caught him off guard. Raymond had watched Arian grow up since she was small. That wild, headstrong girl had become a mother... he pulled himself back from the memory and bowed his head.

"It is an honor to meet a new Alastor pureblooded."

"Nice to meet you too, Sir Raymond. I have a question."

A mercenary had to be shrewd. Make the most of every advantage, and when necessary, endure even humiliation for the sake of profit, survival, and victory.

Kyle was no different. He carried the full memory of a Sword Demon, but right now he was a five-year-old.

A child's greatest advantage was innocence. So Kyle put on his most innocent expression and asked.

"How strong is Sir Raymond?"

"Pardon?"

The blunt question caught Raymond off guard.

"Kyle? What kind of question is that all of a sudden?"

"I was curious."

"Hmm... I'm sorry, Sir Raymond. My son is very curious about the world."

"No, it's quite alright. I was the same when I was young, always wondering who the strongest person in the world was."

Raymond composed himself and answered.

"Kyle-nim, I would say I'm... fairly strong. I'm confident in that."

"How strong compared to the rest of the world?"

"That I couldn't say. I haven't crossed blades with everyone."

"Then how strong are you inside this castle?"

"Hmmm..."

A pureblooded child, even so young, deserved an honest answer. But being entirely candid was another matter.

"Gladiheim has five knight orders, the Black Iron Knights among them. And I am the captain of the Black Iron Knights."

"Whoa!"

That reaction was no performance. Kyle felt his chest thumping as a wide grin spread across his face.

"Are you satisfied with that answer?"

"Yes. Very."

The smile was just like Arian's from her childhood. Raymond found himself smiling warmly back. He straightened up.

"Now that identification is complete, I will open the gates of Gladiheim."

With that.

Rumble!

The great iron gate ground open.

Kyle took Arian's hand and passed through the gates under Raymond's guidance.

"The family head and the rest of the family are waiting at the Sword Tower."

A carriage was waiting just beyond the gates. Kyle climbed in with Arian.

Seated with Arian's hand in his, Kyle didn't keep his eyes still for a single moment, scanning every corner of Gladiheim visible through the carriage window. Watching him, Arian smiled to herself.

He was a brilliant, mature child for his age. But right now, with his eyes wide and shining as he took in everything around him, he looked exactly like a five-year-old should.

'The smell of iron.'

Arian assumed her son was having perfectly age-appropriate, innocent thoughts. Kyle's head, though, was anything but innocent.

Iron smelled a lot like blood.

Leaving the rose-scented air of the Rose Mansion behind, passing through Gladiheim now, Kyle felt a chill run across his skin and the blood in his veins burn hot.

This place, thick with the smell of iron, brought the battlefield roaring back. The battlefield where the Sword Demon had been born and where he had lived. Five hundred years of wandering from one fight to the next came rushing back, and Kyle closed his fist tight.

A sword.

He wanted to hold a sword.

"We can go no farther by carriage."

The carriage stopped before reaching the Sword Tower. Raymond stepped out first and opened the door.

Kyle stepped out with Arian, and what spread before him made him stop cold.

The garden stretching out in front of the Sword Tower looked less like a garden and more like a field of gravestones.

Five hundred years of knights and vassals who had served the Alastor family. And the weapons of challengers and enemies deemed worthy of being remembered, all standing upright in the earth.

Nothing like the Paegeomro. The weapons there had been left untended and neglected, but every weapon here had been cleaned and carefully maintained.

If the Paegeomro was mournful and dreary, earning the name Hill of Lamentation, this place was magnificent. Beautiful.

"This is the Geomhwawon, the Sword Flower Garden."

Raymond's introduction struck a deep chord in Kyle.

Arian had called it a field of gravestones, but to Kyle's eyes it looked like a garden in full bloom.

A stronger pulse than what he'd felt at the Paegeomro moved through him, his whole body prickling, the heat in his lower abdomen intensifying.

'...Hm?'

Kyle, who had been scanning the Sword Flower Garden with bright, eager eyes, stopped in his tracks.

"Kyle?"

He didn't hear Arian call his name. Kyle stared, eyes wide, and swept his gaze across the garden again.

'Wait...?'

"Kyle? What's wrong?"

Arian's face went worried, but Kyle didn't answer. His mouth fell open.

'It's not here?'

No matter how many times he looked. It wasn't there.

The sword he had used when he was the Sword Demon, five hundred years ago. The beloved blade he had carried since the day he left the Raven Mercenary Company.

Gone.

[Sword Demon Raikal. I will remember you.]

The words he had believed were spoken with genuine respect now felt like a taunt.

'Ruin Alastor, you bastard!'

Kyle desperately choked back the scream clawing its way up his throat.

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