WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 62

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Little Elf

Kyle tilted his head and drew his left foot half a step back. At first, he had to leap far away to avoid the blade, but now he did not even need to move that much. A sword without killing intent was this easy to handle.

“Hmm.”

He let out a quiet sound. His inner old man had probably gotten too loud. If he focused only on flaws, then of course flaws were all he would see. It was not as if Jenafelt’s sword had no strengths at all. For one, fitting eleven swords into a single sword form was not as easy as it sounded. Jenafelt must have worked hard, swinging her blade over and over.

‘It’s obvious to me now, but that might change later.’

Being weak right now did not mean she would stay weak forever. Kyle saw potential in Jenafelt’s sword.

‘I won’t say your sword is completely wrong. But I should at least tell you what you need to think about. Right, what’s the best way to do this?’

Just dodging until she could not swing anymore would be a dull, joyless win. Especially with this many spectators watching.

Kyle stared at Jenafelt. Her eyes trembled faintly as she swung without pause. The certainty of victory she had at the beginning had already faded.

To look back on your own sword, sometimes you had to be thoroughly crushed once and fall into despair. Just as the Sword Demon had done many times in his previous life.

Kyle had already read every path in Jenafelt’s sword. Even if she had not swung yet, the moment she decided to swing and sent strength into her arm, he could already predict the trajectory.

The mana of the Primordial Chaos Sword Canon, running without rest, accelerated in earnest. This body, forged over four years in the Mudflat and the sea, drove itself explosively as mana accelerated exactly the way Kyle wanted.

Not flashy enough to call dazzling, seemingly irregular but actually honest. Toward that cute little sword, Kyle stepped forward.

“...!”

Jenafelt’s eyes flew wide. The Kyle reflected in them was clearly in front of her, yet felt like a ghost that did not exist. She had trapped him inside the domain of the Ten Swords, every slash guaranteed, impossible to evade. And yet that absurd bastard smoothly let every strike slide past him.

Then, at that moment, Kyle stepped toward her. Jenafelt saw it as a huge chance. Until now... she still could not understand how he had dodged everything so calmly.

If he stopped dodging and came in to attack, all the better. Shwaaaak! Ten slashes meshed like gears and rushed to tear Kyle apart.

It was certain death. Screams burst from the stands, but Kyle walked straight into the center of the slashes as if he were out for a stroll.

Slashes that looked impossible to avoid. Yet each time Kyle stepped, the sharp Sword Qi slid past his body as though it had never meant to cut him in the first place. Of course, that was not Jenafelt’s intent. Kyle had simply read her sword paths and pushed his body into places the Sword Qi could not reach.

The split-second gaps where Sword Qi interlocked with Sword Qi. A body accelerated by the Primordial Chaos Sword Canon claimed those moments with ease. Before Jenafelt could twist her blade and correct the trajectory, Kyle was already moving to the next gap.

One step. Sword Qi grazed past his left shoulder and cut the floor.
Two steps. Sword Qi split empty air.
Three steps. Kyle pierced through the Ten Swords’ domain and reached Jenafelt.

Jenafelt’s thoughts stopped. Her certainty of victory collapsed. The Ten Swords she had been so proud of could not even cut the hem of that boy’s clothes. Into her frozen vision, Kyle’s hand slowly reached out.

There was no sword in that hand. Beyond the approaching hand, she saw Kyle’s face. Furrowed brows, but no irritation or hostility in his eyes. Something else... that emotion. Where had she seen those eyes before? Right, she remembered.

As a child, Jenafelt had liked to draw.

She was not good at it. She just liked drawing.

Once, she drew a portrait of a nun at the monastery. That ugly portrait no one could call a likeness, not even as a polite lie, and when she handed it over.

The nun had looked at her like that. She had not liked it, but she could not be angry. She did not want to trample a child’s pure goodwill, so she tried to force out praise somehow.

Eyes full of that struggle.

“Y-you...!”

Jenafelt could not help feeling deeply humiliated at seeing that same look in Kyle’s eyes now. Her reason snapped. The thought frozen in shock melted into burning rage. Sword Qi sharpened by killing intent wrapped around her true blade.

The Ten Swords vanished. Only one sword shot toward Kyle, simple and clear.

Thud!

The sword she swung as a killing blow was caught far too easily in Kyle’s hand. Jenafelt’s eyes trembled at the sword-violet aura covering his hand.

Her sword, wrapped in Sword Qi, blocked by a hand wrapped in aura? That alone was shocking, but what stunned her even more was that her sword had not even been properly swung yet. It had been an improvised strike, yet as if he had expected it, that hand had been waiting for her blade.

“Your last sword was the best.”

He had found something to praise.

With a smile that was not too forced, Kyle pressed Jenafelt’s sword downward.

Humiliation and fury mixed with an emotion she could not name, turning Jenafelt’s face bright red. She trembled and tried to move her sword again, but no matter how hard she pushed, the blade trapped in Kyle’s hand would not budge.

‘Could I have taken that barehanded?’

Kyle glanced down at his aura-covered hand. This body had been raised by devouring Dregs and Byproducts in the Cultivation Floors. Maybe it really could take Sword Qi with bare flesh.

‘...’

He did not test it now. If he got carried away and lost a finger, it would be a disaster. Kyle drove the Primordial Chaos Sword Canon even harder. The now-denser aura began completely crushing Jenafelt’s Sword Qi.

“Ugh...”

Jenafelt’s body shuddered. Her Sword Qi was being suppressed, her aura crushed. The backflowing mana caused her pain.

“Do you want to continue?” Kyle asked.

Jenafelt glared at him, feeling heat rise in her burning face.

It was not that she refused to admit defeat. What she had just seen from Kyle was too astonishing to deny. Instead, she asked something else.

“How... did you dodge my sword?”
“Because it was slow.”
“Slow...? You’re saying my sword was slow?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nonsense... e-even if it was slow, how did you deal with that many...”
“It wasn’t many. It just pretended to be many. And it was easy to read.”
“Easy to read? What does that even...”
“Even if you call it eleven swords, it’s still one sword form in the end. It looks like they move at once, but each one has an order, right? Can you think eleven completely different thoughts at the same time?”
“...”
“Moving your right hand, left hand, right foot, and left foot at once by set rules is already hard. How are you supposed to swing eleven in completely different ways at the same time?”

For that to happen, your head would have to crack wide open.

“Well, your sword isn’t wrong. It has strengths. But its weaknesses felt a little too big to me.”

Kyle stared into Jenafelt’s trembling eyes and asked,

“So, do you want to continue?”

Jenafelt worked her lips, then squeezed her eyes shut.

“I lost...”

That was all she could say.

The moment Jenafelt declared defeat, silence fell over the stands.

Gladiheim soldiers. Trainees aiming to become knights. Apprentice knights. Young fighters attending the Exchange Tournament. Even most full knights could not believe what they had just seen.

“No way...”

Someone’s dazed mutter broke the silence. From there, the stands exploded into uproar.

“The Ten Swords lost that badly to someone barehanded, without even holding a sword?”
“D-did you see young master move just now? He was right in the middle of those slashes, but it looked like the slashes were avoiding him.”
“Catching Sword Qi barehanded? Is that even possible?”

Those who could not believe or understand what they saw shouted in shock. Those who understood what Kyle had done stood in stunned silence, eyes wide and mouths open.

‘He read the Ten Swords’ sword paths perfectly.’
‘Barehanded, without even holding a sword. Young master did not protect his body with aura either. He only manifested aura for that one instant when he caught the Ten Swords’ blade.’
‘Does young master Kyle not feel fear? Even if he read the enemy’s sword paths... unless he could see the future, he couldn’t be absolutely certain his prediction was right. How did he dive in that boldly?’
‘That movement that dodged by the width of a sheet of paper... he did it on purpose. He planted false certainty in her so she wouldn’t adjust her sword path mid-swing. The Thunder Emperor’s favored grandson... no wonder he favors him.’
‘Alastor is raising a monster.’

Shock, admiration, curiosity, caution.

Countless emotions swirled through the stands.

“Hoh...”

From the upper seats, Karthan let out a groan.

“Well now... after showing that, we can’t reprimand him for this.”
“No, you should reprimand him. Even if he cleaned it up brilliantly...”

Jerard paused for a moment, correcting the thought that had slipped out naturally.

“Even so, he put Alastor’s authority on the gambling table. If he had lost, what would have happened? Just as he said himself, he would have knelt naked before a Sword Church Disciple and apologized in front of all these people. Fenris, which our family preserved for five hundred years, would have gone to the Sword Church too.”
“That’s only if he had lost,” Barkas muttered with a frown.

“He won, so it’s fine. Isn’t it? If anything, after a victory like that, our family name will rise even higher.”
“N-no... my nephew’s name will rise,” Roel muttered, cold sweat dripping down his face.

Barkas frowned even deeper and glared at him.

“What’s wrong with our nephew’s name rising? This is Gladiheim, and that boy’s name is Kyle Alastor. Same pure blood as us.”
“...”
“Roel. It’s fine to be wary of your nephew, but don’t show jealousy. It’s ugly.”
“Y-yes, hyung-nim...”

Roel answered in a shrinking voice. Right now, he felt like he was sitting on thorns. Even Barkas hyung-nim, stern and terrifying, the man who had coveted the family head’s throne, was speaking as if he acknowledged his nephew.

‘Damn it...’

Roel swallowed the sigh rising in his chest. He had wandered outside for years and returned to find a monster in the family. On top of that, he had decided to gather the young martial artists at this Exchange Tournament and form a knight order, so he would have to compete with Kyle immediately. Kyle did say he would run his order as a small unit, but still...

Roel glanced at Julius. Right now, Julius was wearing a pleased smile Roel had never seen in his life. That made another sigh surge up from the pit of Roel’s stomach.

If Kyle changed his mind and said he wanted to build a large-scale knight order, Julius would surely give him every support possible. If that happened, Roel’s order would be pushed aside. Maybe Roel would even be told to go under Kyle...

“Hyung-nim, have you chosen that brat’s marriage match yet?”

Isaac grabbed Julius’s shoulder, eyes wide.

“Huh? I asked if you chose one. He’s fifteen, right? At fifteen, it’s about time to start arranging a match, no?”
“You don’t even have a daughter. Why are you making such a fuss?”
“I don’t, sure, but how many people around me do?”

True to his title Wandering Sword Sovereign, Isaac had ties to many families across the continent.

“How about Izelon? Their daughter should be eighteen this year, maybe. Bandemion has... hmm, no girl of marriageable age. Then how about the princess of Ransel?”

Bandemion and Izelon were grouped with Alastor as the Three Great Martial Houses, and Ransel was called the Kingdom of Knights. As the names came out, Julius rested his chin on his hand.

“Trying to squeeze matchmaking fees out of Izelon and Ransel?”
“Matchmaking fees? Come on. Am I that desperate for money? I’m just curious what kind of treatment that absurd kid would get in Izelon and the Kingdom of Ransel.”
“He’s Arian’s child, the one who fell in love without even telling me. I don’t need to find his match. He’ll handle it himself.”
“Ugh... then how about this? Lend me your grandson for about a year.”
“My grandson? Why?”
“Why else? I want to take him around and teach him some sword. You know I don’t have children.”

Everyone in the upper seats looked at Isaac in shock.

His title came from roaming the continent freely, bound nowhere, following his heart: Wandering Sword Sovereign.

Sword Sovereign. Even if he was not among the Ten Peaks, Isaac’s sword stood near that level. And that swordsman was saying he wanted to teach Kyle.

“Did you already forget what I said yesterday? He rejected even my sword.”
“Ah... right, right. Looks like his standards are as high as his talent...”

While Isaac let out a deep sigh,

Kyle released Jenafelt’s sword. But even with her blade free, Jenafelt did not sheathe it. She kept glaring at Kyle, face still burning red.

“What are you staring at? It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“...”
“You’re not holding a grudge because this duel humiliated you, are you? You heard all the conditions and still agreed.”
“N-no.”

Jenafelt spoke haltingly.

“I feel... no humiliation. Yes, not now.”
“So you did feel it earlier. When was it humiliating?”
“When young master reached his hand toward me. In your eyes... I felt humiliated.”
“Huh. I wasn’t looking at you like that.”
“Yes. Your eyes were very merciful then. Too merciful... you were trying to squeeze out praise for my sword somehow.”

Kyle could not answer right away.

‘Were my eyes that obvious?’

He felt a little sorry. For Jenafelt, proud of the name Ten Swords, realizing that praise for her sword was so hard to find he had to “squeeze it out” must have been deeply humiliating.

“I will... keep my promise,” Jenafelt said.

“On my life, I will report directly to the Sword Church Master what kind of person... young master is. Everything I felt, without a single lie.”
“I won’t ask how you felt about me right now.”

Looking apologetic would only humiliate her more. So Kyle smiled shamelessly.

“What you feel now won’t be everything. The more you chew on what happened, the more you’ll feel a little later. Tomorrow will feel new. The day after will feel even newer.”
“Are you telling me to keep chewing on this humiliation?”
“Yes. Exactly. Keep chewing on your miserable defeat. Keep chewing on the humiliation of that moment, and grow your killing intent toward me. Swing your sword with the will to crush the mercy in my eyes, and come kill me later.”
“Come... kill you? Is that what you said?”
“Yes.”

Kyle answered with a broad smile.

“I wish someone would come try to kill me. If it’s an opponent like that, I can kill them with peace of mind.”
“...”
“Hmm... does that sound weird? You don’t have to decide you absolutely must kill me. Just carry that mindset. Whether we actually kill each other later, we can negotiate when the time comes.”

Jenafelt, listening blankly, burst into laughter.

“Ha... haha. Young master... you are a strange person.”
“I know.”
“And young master suits the Sword Church far better than a family like this.”
“I know that too.”

Of course. Kyle let out a small grin.

“Please send my regards to the Sword Church Master.”
“Yes. Understood.”

Jenafelt staggered off the stage. In her retreating back, more than the shame of defeat, there was a desperate struggle to grasp the question Kyle had thrown at her.

Kyle did not step down right away. Instead, he stood in the middle of the stage and swept his gaze across the stands. Seeing so many people gathered made his eyes shine.

“With the Family Head’s permission, I’m forming a new knight order this time.”

His mana-laced voice rang through the stands, and Roel’s face turned pale. No way. No way.

“I’m actively recruiting right now.”

The ominous feeling became reality. The crowd buzzed at the mention of a new order. It was no secret that a new knight order was being formed in Gladiheim, but what people knew was that the commander would be Roel Alastor, Julius’s fifth son, not his grandson Kyle.

“A knight commander at fifteen...?”
“What does age matter? You saw his skill.”
“Maybe young master Kyle is stronger than young master Roel...”

Murmurs spread through the crowd. The expressions of Alastor branch members and apprentice knights in particular turned serious. Roel had left Gladiheim for eleven years with his younger brother Seros. The reason was to find a way to awaken the Family Matriarch, who had already been asleep for twenty years, and the two had gained fame across the continent during that journey.

But compared to the skill Kyle had just displayed before their eyes, the reputation Roel gained while wandering the continent lacked force. For one thing, Roel had never stepped forward to show his sword in this Exchange Tournament.

“Ah, don’t misunderstand. Two knight orders are being formed this time. Uncle Roel’s and mine. Mine will run as a small unit.”

Kyle turned his head and looked below the stage. Bruno, Lucia, and Jade stood there.

“We currently have four people including me. I plan to recruit just one more... and the entry condition is nothing special. Your sword just has to catch my eye.”

The chatter in the stands quieted. The phrase “small elite” had a way of heating people’s blood. It made them feel like they might take part in something special.

“If you’re interested, please come to the Fourth Training Ground. Thank you.”

With that, Kyle stepped down from the stage. Lucia approached at once and respectfully handed him Fenris.

“How was it?”
“I found it incredible.”
“Think you can do it too?”
“It is impossible for me.”
“Then we’ll make it possible.”

Kyle grinned and looked at Bruno and Jade. Jade let out a dry laugh as he imagined the training ahead, and Bruno clenched his fist hard.

“If I train, can I do it like you?”
“Who knows. I’ll train you as hard as I can, so if you do your best too, maybe.”

Provoking Jenafelt and dueling her carried several purposes. Through this match, Kyle had clearly stamped his presence on the crowd and shown his skill, so applicants would now come flooding in without him needing to seek them out.

Even now, many in the audience were standing and heading to the Fourth Training Ground. What Kyle needed to do next was sift the gems from the stones among the applicants.

And Jenafelt would return to the Sword Church and make it very clear to Helenas what kind of person Fenris’s owner was.

Fenris, displayed for five hundred years, had gained an owner not merely because of Julius’s whim and favor. Kyle Alastor had the qualifications to be Fenris’s owner.

How would Helenas take that? Kyle knew from his previous life what elves were like, no, what kind of elf Helenas was. As Julius had grumbled before, elves did not care about anything that did not interest them.

[It is more correct to call that fate than interest.]

Five hundred years ago.

A tiny little elf had said that.

“Interest can be chosen even when your heart is not moved. Fate is different. For us elves, fate is not something we choose. At some point, it seizes us.”

A memory from five hundred years ago.

Early in the morning, Helenas came carrying a real sword, shook sleeping Raikal awake, and said that.

“The moment we encounter it, that meeting is never chance for an elf. A fated meeting, not an accidental one. Seized by it, an elf lives out their long life for that fate.”

That was why elves did not gather like other races. Each elf was seized by a different fate, so there was no grand cause shared by the race as a whole.

Elves were extreme individualists. The reason their population was so small despite their long lifespan was simple. Most elves had no interest in bearing descendants or preserving their race.

“You... damn brat. Why wake someone up just to say all this?”
“Please teach me the sword.”

The small elf child with green hair and blue eyes held out a sword and spoke bluntly.

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