Portraits of past heads of the house lined the corridor connecting the Hall of Sword Pinnacles to the central hall. Ignoring the murmurs of the relatives he had passed, Kyle quietly watched Lucia's back as she led the way.

Eight years old. Her frame was small, as befitted her age, but her footsteps made no sound at all. That meant she already had control over every movement she made.

He could not tell whether she did it consciously or unconsciously. Still, it was honestly admirable that she could do so much at eight, an age when sniffling over a runny nose would have suited her better.

'Or is it? Is this normal here?'

In his previous life, Kyle had been born into a mercenary company and run wild with children his age. But this was no mere mercenary company. This was House Alastor, the greatest martial house on the continent. Perhaps the young relatives he had yet to greet had movements just as polished as Lucia's.

"Master Kyle."

When they had passed through the corridor and returned to the central hall, Lucia stopped. She hesitated a moment before turning to him.

"Was today... truly your first time holding a sword?"

"Yes."

He could hardly tell her about his previous life. Kyle nodded as he answered.

Her eyes wavered at his answer. Arian's oath had confirmed it earlier, but young Lucia simply could not believe that oath.

"Today was... your first time?"

Lucia's world was crumbling. Yet instead of giving in to despair, she bit her lip and steeled her resolve.

"Would you spar with me again someday?"

"Sure."

Kyle grinned as he answered. He liked that she had not lost heart.

In a fight, attitude and mental fortitude mattered just as much as skill. After all, it was people who did the fighting. With a disposition like hers, she would be able to grow stronger.

"We'll probably be seeing each other a lot. Why don't you speak more casually with me?"

"I could never do that. You are a pureblood of House Alastor, Master Kyle. And... we will not be able to see each other very often."

"Why? You live here too."

"The Sword Tower is far larger and more mysterious than you imagine. And I... am not in a position to visit the purebloods of my own accord."

"Then if we hardly see each other, we won't get to spar much either."

"..."

Older than Kyle she might be, but Lucia was still only eight. Far from answering him, she looked flustered, her eyes wavering.

"Well... yes, that is true."

"That's all right. I can come find you."

Chuckling, Kyle stepped closer and held out his hand.

"Even if you can't come see me, it's fine for me to come see you. Right?"

"I... am not sure."

Lucia hesitated, glancing at his hand. Her expression suggested she was confused about what his outstretched hand meant. In disbelief, Kyle took her hand and shook it up and down.

"Do my relatives not even shake hands with you?"

"..."

"Grandfather seemed nice. So did Uncle Cartan. Are they only nice to me?"

"They are... kind to me as well," Lucia mumbled in a tiny voice.

"Lady Katarina is kind to me too. Many of the purebloods treat me well."

"Right, right."

Kyle did not press her. Here in the heart of the Sword Tower, where the direct line lived, Lucia could hardly say anything that might reflect badly on them. Unseen eyes were undoubtedly watching the two of them even now.

"I-I shall show you the way."

Flustered, Lucia released his hand and turned around. Kyle followed leisurely as she hurried ahead with quick little steps.

As he walked, he tried sensing his surroundings. He meant to detect the gaze of their unseen watchers, but unfortunately felt nothing. Even with the Sword Demon's soul, sensing a watcher's gaze with an untrained five-year-old body was out of the question.

'Besides, anyone so unskilled that I could sense them wouldn't belong in the Sword Tower to begin with.'

Ahead of him, Lucia stopped before a row of doors along the inner wall of the hall.

"What's with all these doors?"

"These are... elevators."

"Oh! So these are elevators!"

He had spent all five years since his birth at Rose Manor, but that did not mean he knew nothing of the outside world. His room there was filled with all manner of children's books Arian had brought him.

This was simply his first time seeing an elevator in person.

"Have you never seen an elevator before, Master Kyle?"

"I know what they are. They use magic or machinery to... well, move you upstairs or downstairs."

"These operate by magic."

"Did House Alastor's mages make them?"

"From what I have heard, they were a gift from the Dragon King."

The Dragon King.

Exactly what the title suggested: the king of dragons.

'Dragons...'

Kyle's eyes sparkled. Five hundred years ago, he had roamed countless battlefields, yet never once seen a dragon in person. Still, he knew the many legends he had heard about them since childhood.

The progenitors of magic.

The great race.

"The Sword Tower itself was a gift from the Dragon King. A symbol of respect and affection for House Alastor's founder."

The Sword Tower was an enormous artifact the Dragon King had personally come to the Blade Mountains to create five hundred years ago. Since the tower itself was made with the Dragon King's magic, it held countless wonders beyond Kyle's understanding.

"The Sword Tower has eleven floors, including the basement."

Lucia pointed to the ornate doors in the center.

"This is the only elevator that can reach every floor, and only the head of the house may use it."

Beneath the Sword Tower lay the Sword Tomb, where the swords of past heads of the house were enshrined.

The first floor housed the Hall of Sword Pinnacles, where Vigrid's governance, Gladiheim's administration, and family matters great and small were discussed. The Sword Tower's servants also lived there.

The second floor held an enormous library. It contained writings on various martial disciplines, including swordsmanship, as well as mana cultivation methods and even spellbooks.

"All of them were written or collected by House Alastor's ancestors."

Though she had no Alastor blood, Lucia spoke with pride written all over her face.

"Of course, some were offered as tributes. As you know, Master Kyle, House Alastor has sponsored talented people for five hundred years. The geniuses nurtured that way enter Gladiheim, while those whose gifts fall short of genius remain in Vigrid, training in the hope of entering Gladiheim someday."

"..."

"All of them are loyal to House Alastor and offer up the talents they have brought to fruition. They dream that when they die, their cherished weapons will be kept in the Sword Garden, and their techniques in the Sword Tower's library."

"..."

"Select martial disciplines and magic accumulated over five hundred years. I have never been inside, but you, Master Kyle... Master Kyle? Why are you making that face?"

"Well, um..."

Kyle hesitated, then lowered his voice to ask,

"What's a mana cultivation method?"

"Pardon?"

Lucia blinked at him blankly. Soon, she arrived at her own understanding of his question.

A child who inherited the Alastor name could neither hold a weapon nor begin learning mana until they were proven worthy of bearing that name. Kyle must know nothing of mana cultivation methods because Arian had never told him about them.

Knowing would only make him yearn for them all the more.

"Do you know what mana is?"

"I do."

"A mana cultivation method is exactly what it sounds like: a way to cultivate mana. It is a technique for drawing mana into your body and controlling it."

"Drawing mana... into your body... and controlling it?"

"Yes."

"There's a technique for that?"

"Pardon? Yes. Of course there is."

Lucia nodded, bewildered.

Kyle felt as though someone had struck the back of his head with a hammer.

A mana cultivation method. A technique for drawing mana into the body and controlling it, she said.

How was that even possible? He stood dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open.

He thought back to five hundred years ago. Naturally, mana had existed then too. But there had been no techniques for drawing it in or controlling it.

It was an age unfamiliar with magic, when everyone took it for granted that magic was the province of nonhuman races such as demons and elves.

Mages had existed even then, but they were exceedingly rare. Rather than a field of study as it was now, magic had been treated as something akin to a miracle. Anyone who wanted to learn had to start by waiting on stooped, wrinkled old men. Only after decades of study could they be called an apprentice mage.

And that was if they had talent and everything went well. Those who could not even sense mana often spent their entire lives serving those old men until they died.

All because mana could neither be seen nor felt. They said those creatures called geniuses could sense mana from birth, but geniuses were rare.

Thus, five hundred years ago, magic had belonged exclusively to a tiny handful of geniuses—or those close to nonhuman races such as demons and elves.

If even the so-called mages were like that, how could warriors such as swordsmen have been experts in mana? That was how unfamiliar it had been.

Knights had been somewhat better off. Initiation into mana had been a prerequisite for knighthood in the first place, and even if they could not clearly define it, knightly families inevitably accumulated experience. In any case, there had been no systematic method for drawing mana into the body, controlling it, and using it in those days.

Kyle—the Sword Demon—had been a mercenary. His father had been a mercenary too. His mother had been a whore. His grandfather? His grandmother? He had no idea what they had done.

Warriors like him had simply trained hard with their weapons, fought, and survived life-or-death ordeals.

Only after enduring all kinds of hell could they barely grasp mana—a mere fragment of a transcendent power beyond human perception. Those who were not mages called it mana's blessing.

Even the Sword Demon had only received that blessing after turning twenty, roaming countless battlefields, fighting several death matches, and surviving brush after brush with death.

Receiving the blessing did not make someone well versed in mana. Some mysterious power simply took root in their body. They grew stronger, quicker, and difficult to tire.

They became better fighters.

That was about it. To increase that 'power' any further, they had no choice but to keep doing what they had always done. Swing their swords, swing again, fight, fight again, and brave death over and over.

"If you learn this... mana cultivation method, you can use aura too, right?"

Kyle stumbled over the question. Lucia did not understand why he wore that expression, but nodded in answer anyway.

"Of course you can. Even I can use it."

"Wh-what?"

Oh, right. Pulling himself together, Kyle looked at Lucia's single horn. She was half-demon. Unlike humans, demons possessed an affinity for mana from birth.

"Not only me. Your relatives can use aura as well, Master Kyle."

"My uncles and aunts?"

"They can, of course, but so can their children."

Kyle swayed on his feet.

'I couldn't produce aura until I was twenty-one. In this day and age, even little brats under ten can do it?'

That was just how long five hundred years was. Was this how a monkey felt upon first seeing fire? Dizzy, Kyle seized Lucia's hand.

"Show me your aura."

"P-pardon?"

"Show me your aura. I want to see it."

"Master Kyle, are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. I've never seen aura in my life. Come on, hurry. Show me."

"A-all right. I will show you, so please let go of my hand."

Kyle released her at once. Looking uncomfortable, Lucia glanced around several times, then stepped back and raised a hand.

SZZZ!

A brilliant red light soon wrapped around her hand.

"This is aura."

Despite her grown-up manner of speaking, Lucia was still an eight-year-old child. She could not completely hide her feelings. Proudly, she lifted her aura-wreathed hand high.

"What do you think?"

"..."

Kyle did not answer. He simply stared at her hand.

Was he too astonished?

He was surprised, yes. But not quite in the same way as before.

'That's aura...?'

The mana had gathered densely enough to become visible. A casual swing of that glowing hand would likely shatter or crush a rock.

But in many ways, it differed from the aura Kyle knew. Its power? Naturally, it fell far short. That was only to be expected. Even if Lucia was half-demon and had learned this mana cultivation method, she was still only eight.

In any event, it was astonishing. With his mouth still hanging open, Kyle let out a quiet exclamation.

"Wow."

The world really had improved. Five hundred years ago, people had called it a blessing because only after nearly dying several times and suffering through hell could they attain it. Now, apparently, cultivation methods made it easy to learn.

He had not tried it yet, so he could not know whether it truly was easy. But if even his young Alastor relatives, who were not half-demons, could do it, then getting started was clearly easier than it had been five hundred years ago.

And the child before him was producing aura, something that had once required enduring hell and courting death as a matter of course even after receiving mana's blessing.

House Alastor might be the continent's greatest martial house, but that little child was producing aura. Surely the world was now full of powerful fighters utterly different from those of five hundred years ago.

'Thank goodness.'

'I'm so glad I reincarnated.'

Kyle meant it from the bottom of his heart. At first, he had been bitterly disappointed to have reincarnated after Ruin Alastor had died—no, ascended. Now, he no longer felt that way.

In the five hundred years since the Sword Demon's death, the world had changed in such wonderful ways.