Reincarnation of the Sword Demon - Chapter 7

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 7

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Gladiheim

Her son's boldness caught Arian completely off guard. Wide-eyed, she looked between Kyle and the sword hanging beneath the ancestor's portrait.

"K, Kyle?"

She called his name carefully. Kyle's gaze didn't leave Julius.

From the day he was born, Kyle had been different from other children. The servants all said so, and Arian had always felt it herself. He'd almost never shown the grasping want typical of young children, that stubborn insistence on having things, but the one exception, always, was swords.

Family rules had kept her from giving him what he asked for, and that had weighed on her for years. Now that they were back in Gladiheim, she wanted nothing more than to finally say yes, but...

"Kyle, that one... no."

That sword was something even she couldn't touch. She lowered herself with an apologetic look, trying to meet his eyes.

"You heard what grandfather just said, didn't you? We'll get you a sword later, a much nicer one than that..."

"I want that sword."

Any other time, Kyle wouldn't have pushed. Not for this. Just as Arian opened her mouth again, face helpless--

"Why do you want this sword?"

Julius asked.

That sword. Fenris had been with Raikal, Kyle's past life, for half a lifetime, and that was no exaggeration. Before Fenris, he'd gone through countless blades. After, never another. Fenris wasn't the reason Raikal earned the name Sword Demon, nothing so grand as that, but it had been there for every moment of his prime. He could have listed every battlefield, every fight, each one still clear in his memory.

"Just because."

Saying any of that out loud would have gotten him written off as a lunatic. Five years old was an age where absurd stubbornness was still forgivable.

"Just because, just because..."

Julius stroked his chin and turned his head.

Beneath the portrait of the great and venerable ancestor, Ruin Alastor.

Behind the black iron throne that only the family head could occupy.

A sword hung just above it, slightly higher than the throne itself.

"You've seen many other swords on your way through Gladiheim, I imagine," Julius said.

"It wasn't only swords."

"The shapes differ, but the purpose is the same. And so is the meaning of placing them there."

"The swords on the Path of Defeated Blades were left alone. Most of them rusted and broken. It wasn't a pleasant sight."

"Because they were common losers, not worth remembering."

"The swords in the Sword Garden were well kept. Beautiful enough that I understood why the place had that name. Our estate has plenty of flowers, but I've never seen a garden as lovely as the Sword Garden."

Julius smiled at his grandson's answer.

"They deserve to be remembered. Every retainer of Alastor hopes to leave their weapon in the Sword Garden. Even the enemies who fell to Alastor must have wished the same."

"Wouldn't the enemies' wish have been victory?"

"A wish that could never be granted. History belongs to the victor, and so does the verdict."

Julius didn't reprimand his grandson for answering back so readily. After decades as head of the Alastor house, always an object of reverence and fear, he found he was enjoying this.

"Gladiheim has three resting places for swords. The Path of Defeated Blades, the Sword Garden, and the Sword Mound beneath the Sword Tower. The Sword Mound holds the blades of every past family head, save for the ancestor."

Julius rose from the throne.

"Why isn't the ancestor's sword there?"

"Because he broke his own sword in his final years."

His gaze slid briefly to Arian.

"You haven't been teaching him the family's history properly?"

"Ah... I thought you'd do a better job of it than I would."

"Do I strike you as someone with enough leisure to personally teach a five-year-old grandchild?"

Arian's shoulders pulled in at his cold tone. Privately, though: you're doing quite a lot of talking with Kyle for someone who claims to be so busy.

The father she remembered had never been this warm. Since she was small, since before that even, since Karthan's birth, Julius had always been cold. There might have been something buried under all that coldness, some distant warmth, but his authority had always made it unreachable. Even now, conversation with him was easier than it had once been, but as a child she had simply been afraid of him.

Had the years dulled his edges? Softened that coldness?

No. That couldn't be it. Julius Alastor was the living embodiment of the family creed, "The strong are revered."

"Why did the ancestor break his sword?"

Even under the gaze his own children couldn't meet, Kyle didn't flinch. His eyes shone with innocent curiosity, and he kept asking questions like he was talking to any ordinary grandfather.

"Because there was no one left worth fighting."

Julius was smiling, and as impossible as it seemed to Arian, the expression on his face was that of a perfectly ordinary grandfather.

"'No one left to fight, so no need for a sword.' Those were his words. And not long after, he ascended."

"Ascended..."

"This sword's name is Fenris."

Julius turned and looked at the sword hanging beneath the portrait.

"Even after breaking his own sword, the ancestor kept Fenris by his side until the very end. He never wielded it, but it stayed with him."

"..."

"Five hundred years ago, there was a man called the Sword Demon, Raikal."

Gulp.

Kyle swallowed and listened.

"Many records mention him. A real troublemaker, by all accounts."

"..."

"He founded the Crow Mercenary Company, which became the Crows, the feared rulers of the western frontier to this day. Father to the Crows. And the Sword Church, that organization that has stirred trouble across the continent and clashed with Alastor time and again, was built by his followers."

"Oh..."

The sound escaped before Kyle even realized it.

"The Sword Demon ran wild during the Dark Age five hundred years ago, but he challenged the ancestor, was defeated, and died. This Fenris was his most beloved sword."

"Why is the Sword Demon's sword displayed beneath the ancestor's portrait?"

"Because it was the one sword the ancestor chose to remember."

Something in those words tugged at the corner of Kyle's mouth.

"The ancestor fought countless battles to bring the Dark Age to an end. But the only sword he kept within reach, the only one he held in memory, was this--Fenris."

"Was the Sword Demon really that strong?"

"There were likely stronger fighters during the Dark Age. The ancestor himself couldn't claim victory against the Demon King, and with the Dragon King, he said that barely counted as a fight at all."

Fair enough. Kyle felt no disappointment. He'd learned as Raikal just how wide the world was. He'd been beaten plenty.

"But he left behind these words: the most enjoyable fight he ever had was against the Sword Demon."

"The most enjoyable..."

"A fight where the glory of winning and the sting of losing meant nothing, where all that existed was the pure contest of blades. That's why Fenris stands here."

"..."

"Fenris isn't something I can give you."

"Now I want it even more."

"No family head has ever wielded Fenris as a weapon. It carries the ancestor's memory, and it has drunk so much blood over the centuries that it's soaked through with killing intent. A sword you cannot handle."

"A sword isn't a decoration."

Julius paused and looked back at Kyle.

"A sword is a weapon you grip with your hands, swing, slash, and thrust with."

"You're lecturing me about swords. A brat who hasn't even held one yet."

"I haven't held one, but I know what a sword is. I'm looking right at one."

Kyle looked at Fenris with a smile in his eyes.

"That sword was never made to be a decoration, and it doesn't look like it's ever been used as one."

"..."

"Why haven't you ever used Fenris, grandfather?"

"Because I have my own sword."

"I don't have one."

Kyle grinned.

"So give it to me."

"Did I not just tell you it's full of killing intent? Fenris is a cursed blade."

"I'll be fine."

"Ha..."

Julius shook his head.

"To think I'd ever be asked for Fenris. By a five-year-old grandson who hasn't even proven his talent yet."

"If I prove my talent, I'm allowed to hold a sword, right?"

"That's right."

"Then prove it now."

Had he ever heard anything like this? Julius looked at Kyle for a long moment, then spoke.

"Karthan."

"Yes."

The door to the Sword Hall opened and Karthan, who had been waiting in the corridor, stepped in.

"Bring Lucia. And two training swords for children."

"Pardon? Yes, understood."

Karthan hesitated a moment, then nodded and withdrew.

"Lucia? Who is Lucia?"

Arian had been hovering nervously at the edges of the conversation. The name meant nothing to her. She'd lived in the Sword Tower until six years ago, and she had never once heard it.

"A child I took in after you left to get married."

"You took her in?"

"Found her abandoned on the northern coast."

"Wait... just a moment."

Arian stared at him.

"You're keeping her in the Sword Tower?"

The Sword Tower was the highest point in Gladiheim. Those who lived here, aside from the servants, were the family head and his direct descendants, the Funeral Knights, the elite of Alastor, and the retired elders. Gladiheim was vast. There were countless other places a stray child could have been raised. And yet a child of unknown origin had been kept here, in this place of all places. Arian couldn't make sense of it.

"Because her talent is extraordinary. Purity of blood is sacred and worthy of reverence, but what Alastor values above all else is strength. Lucia has the kind of talent that can only grow into power. So she lives here, and the elders are cultivating her."

"The elders are personally teaching her...?"

"If she grows as she should, Lucia will one day join the Funeral Knights."

For just a moment, something like regret passed through Julius's eyes.

"A pity we can't mix blood."

The door to the Sword Hall opened again.

Can't mix blood. Arian understood what that meant the instant he said it. She pressed a hand over her mouth and stared at the girl Karthan led in.

Pale skin. White hair. Eyes red as blood.

A single horn growing from the left side of her head.

"A... a demon?"

"Half-blood, apparently," Julius said.

Half-demon, a rare birth by all accounts. Lucia, who had entered alongside Karthan, bowed her head toward Julius.

"I heard you called for me."

Her manner of speaking was far too formal for her age. Julius stopped Karthan, who had been moving to leave, and spoke.

"Lucia. How old are you?"

"Eight years old."

"She says eight. Can you handle that?"

His gaze turned to Kyle.

"Lucia began learning the sword a year before you were even born. She's already begun her mana training, a trait of her demon blood."

Karthan read the situation immediately. He looked between the two small wooden swords in his hands and Kyle, then leaned toward Julius, voice low.

"My lord. Surely you don't mean to... have Kyle and Lucia fight?"

"If the boy wants it."

"But... my lord, Kyle hasn't even started training yet. And Lucia is..."

"The decision isn't mine to make. Or yours."

That silenced Karthan. He turned to look at Kyle, worry plain on his face.

His five-year-old nephew was beaming.

"If I win, you'll grant my request?"

"Depending on how you win, I'll consider it."

"That's a promise, right?"

"Do you really think I'd go back on my word over something like this?" Julius said, something like amusement crossing his face.

Only then did Kyle move. He trotted over to Karthan and held out both hands.

"Give it to me."

Karthan handed it over with a look that said he didn't quite understand any of this.

Ah...

A training sword for children, nothing more, but it was the first blade he'd held since his rebirth. The feel of it settling into his grip sent a shiver through him.

A bit large for a five-year-old's body, but that was nothing. He swung it once downward, then once to the side. Each swing pulled his small frame slightly off-balance, and the sight made Arian's expression shift. She had no doubt her son was gifted, but whether that gift extended to swordsmanship was something she hadn't yet allowed herself to fully believe.

"Lucia."

Lucia, receiving her training sword from Karthan, looked up.

"Yes, my lord."

"Give it everything you have, but no mana."

"He'll get hurt."

"That doesn't matter," Julius said.

"Don't worry."

Kyle said it with a grin.

"...?"

Lucia turned to look at him, brow furrowed.

"I won't get hurt."

Gripping the sword, he understood it again.