After leaving the Hall of Sword Pinnacles, Kyle debated whether to visit the grand library on the second floor or the Sword Garden in front of the Sword Tower first, then headed for the tower’s doors.

He had worked up quite a sweat playing with wooden swords with Julius and wanted to feel a cool breeze. He also wanted to go outside, having spent all three days since arriving at the Sword Tower indoors.

'There’s a breeze on the fourth floor much like the one outside, but it’s still inside the Sword Tower.'

The firmly shut main doors of the Sword Tower slid open at Kyle’s touch. Outside, a pleasant, cool breeze dried his sweat. He stretched luxuriously, then headed for the Sword Garden a short distance from the tower.

Gravestones of swords.

A flower bed of swords.

Not everything planted in the Sword Garden was a sword, though most of the weapons were. As the garden drew closer, Kyle gazed at it, deeply moved.

Every one of those weapons must once have been held and wielded by someone. Some would have belonged to retainers who devoted their loyalty to House Alastor, others to challengers who had suffered defeat.

If he had to choose a side, Kyle identified with the defeated. He, too, had challenged House Alastor’s founder and died in defeat. In a sense, Kyle—the Sword Demon—could even be called the founder of the Sword Garden.

'Hmm?'

Kyle stopped on his way to the Sword Garden. Among its widely spaced weapons, a girl with a single horn and an apron was bent over, absorbed in her work.

Lucia. Looking closer, he saw that she was carefully polishing the weapons. When Kyle strode toward the garden, she looked up.

“Good day, Master Kyle.”

Lucia straightened and bowed her head.

“What are you doing?”

“As you can see, I’m cleaning.”

Lucia spoke with composure. Though only eight, she was more mature in her words and conduct than thirteen-year-old Erika.

“They don’t look dirty enough to need cleaning.”

Kyle looked between the cloth in Lucia’s hands and the weapons in the garden. The cloth was clean, without a single stain, and none of the weapons looked dirty either.

“Apart from the Sword Tower, this is the most honored place in Gladiheim. The weapons of the Sword Garden never rust with age, nor does dust cling to them even when the winds rage.”

“Then why are you polishing them?”

“For self-discipline.”

Lucia spoke with pride.

“Someday, I will become a knight and pledge my loyalty to House Alastor. And I swear I will leave my weapon in the Sword Garden.”

“Hmm...”

“Through the kindness of the head of the house and an elder, I was taken in and allowed to live in the Sword Tower. Since I was little, I have trained to control one half of the blood flowing through my veins. But no matter how hard I train, Demon blood still remains in my body.”

It was far too heavy a burden for a girl to bear merely for having been born that way, yet Lucia’s voice never wavered.

“The weapons of the Sword Garden do not need polishing, but as I polish them, I cleanse my own heart as well.”

“Oh...”

At Lucia’s eloquent speech, Kyle brought his hands together and applauded. She lowered her gaze slightly in embarrassment.

“But these aren’t all weapons of knights who were loyal to the house.”

The Sword Garden also held the weapons of enemies who had challenged and threatened House Alastor.

“That... that doesn’t matter. Polishing their weapons disciplines my heart.”

“Really? Do you think it helps?”

“Yes, it does.”

Demons were a race with many advantages over humans. Five hundred years ago, unlike humans, they had naturally wielded mana and used magic from birth, and they were physically superior as well.

That was why they constantly derided humans as an “inferior race.” But that did not mean Demons surpassed humans in every respect.

Their race had two fatal flaws.

Mana addiction and the encroachment of madness.

Though Demons could wield mana from birth, their bodies began to break down if they used too much of it. They also struggled to retain their reason when their emotions ran high or they entered combat.

Many of the Demons whose ends Kyle had witnessed had succumbed to both at once. Consumed by madness, they would rampage without any judgment, then destroy themselves through mana addiction.

The encroachment of madness was particularly problematic. Naturally, a Demon who lost all reason could not distinguish friend from foe.

Without those flaws, the continent would have been fucked by the Demons long ago.

'Does being half-Demon make those flaws stronger? Or weaker...?'

If it was the former, Lucia had a difficult life ahead of her. It would be like living with a time bomb strapped to her body, never knowing when it might explode. Kyle quietly studied her face.

Five hundred years ago, Demons had been seen as everyone’s common enemy—foreign invaders attempting to exploit the continent’s turmoil. The Sword Demon, however, had rather liked them.

They were worth fighting. In fact, that was true not only of Demons but of every nonhuman race. Demon swordsmen, elf mages, Orc warriors, Beastfolk martial artists, and more. They offered something different from humans and had brought the Sword Demon to death’s door many times.

'And I lost plenty of times, too.'

Though he had repaid every defeat. In that sense, Kyle was quite interested in Lucia. She had undeniable talent with the sword, the unusual quality of being half-Demon, and youth on her side. If she grew up well, she would become strong enough to be entertaining.

“Master Kyle? Is there something on my face?”

After he had stared at her for some time, Lucia ventured the question.

“It’s nothing.”

With that, Kyle strode into the Sword Garden. Lucia hesitated, then quietly stepped back.

“You can keep going. You said you were practicing self-discipline, didn’t you?”

“Master Kyle... does my presence make you uncomfortable?”

Lucia asked hesitantly. It was a baffling question. Kyle tilted his head and looked back at her.

“Didn’t we have fun playing together three days ago? We played swords and toured the first floor. Why ask that now?”

“Back then, you probably didn’t fully understand what it means to be half-Demon.”

“Sure I did. I know enough.”

“And... the head of the house ordered me to show you around the first floor. You were only following his orders, too...”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Lucia blinked rapidly. She hesitated, unable to continue, then spoke in a voice that dwindled almost to nothing.

“You heard what Master Bruno and Master Vecius said yesterday, didn’t you?”

“I did, but it was bullshit not worth remembering.”

“...”

“Is it really so extraordinary for me to be nice to you? You said the head of the house and the elders look after you, and so does Aunt Katarina. And yesterday, I saw that girl—Vivian, was it? She was sticking close to you, too.”

Vivian was two years older than Kyle, but he used her name without the slightest hesitation.

“That’s because I’m still insignificant in the eyes of the head of the house, Lady Katarina, and the elders. And Lady Vivian is a very kind person...”

“I’m kind, too.”

Kyle grinned.

“Besides, I don’t think the head of the house and the other adults treat you well because you’re insignificant. It’s because of the family motto.”

“...”

“I’ve only been here for three days, but I have a pretty good idea of how things work. Strength is everything here. Even if you aren’t strong now, they treat you according to your potential once they see that you can grow stronger. Isn’t that right?”

Lucia’s lips parted blankly.

“That’s why I don’t really understand your attitude. Purebloods deserve respect, but does that mean you have to respect a weakling who hasn’t earned it? If you’d punched that sly little bastard Vecius in the face yesterday, who would the head of the house have blamed? You, or Vecius for getting his ass kicked and bawling about it?”

“Th-that’s...”

“If Vecius ran crying to Uncle Cartan after getting beaten up, would Uncle Cartan punish you? I doubt it. Here, being weak enough to get your ass kicked is what makes you wrong. If Vecius whined about not being strong enough to get revenge himself, Grandfather wouldn’t have forgiven him.”

“That would be... far too disrespectful. Someone like me must never do such a thing.”

“Right, it would be disrespectful. And you’re living here on their charity, so you shouldn’t do it. But doing what you shouldn’t is always fun. Once you actually try it, it often turns out to be no big deal.”

Chuckling, Kyle surveyed the weapons in the Sword Garden.

“Anyway, that’s how I see it, so you don’t make me uncomfortable. I had much more fun playing with you for a little while than with my cousin who’s nothing but size. And I think you could become a better knight than Bruno someday. If you grow up well.”

These words came from a five-year-old boy three years younger than Lucia, yet strangely, she found nothing incongruous about them.

“In any case, Lucia, you don’t make me uncomfortable, so there’s no reason for you to avoid me. Unless I make you uncomfortable?”

“That’s... not it.”

“Then don’t worry about what I think. Just keep practicing your self-discipline. And play swords with me from time to time.”

“But you’re so busy, Master Ky—”

“Even if I’m busy, I can make time. I told you, I had fun playing with you.”

He could no longer visit Julius every day anyway. He had plenty of other things to do, so he would certainly be busy, but he wasn’t lying about having enjoyed playing with Lucia.

'She’ll grow strong even if I leave her alone. But if I raise her properly, she’ll be stronger still.'

There were many ways to become stronger, but the Sword Demon had done so through real combat. Competition, in particular, accelerated improvement.

Kyle wanted to nurture this talented half-Demon child into someone he could fight someday.

'And gain another ally, too.'

In a sense, the Sword Tower was a world where the strong preyed on the weak. Erika, the youngest daughter, seemed to have no desire to become head of the house, but his other relatives would be different. They would be wary of the five-year-old nephew who had suddenly appeared and received so much affection from the family head.

To avoid being kicked aside, he needed to become too big and heavy for anyone to dare try. Securing reliable allies was another good method.

“I... understand.”

A faint smile spread across Lucia’s lips.

“If you ever want to play with me, please call for me whenever you like. I cannot come to visit you myself.”

“All right.”

Kyle smiled back, then began inspecting the Sword Garden’s weapons in earnest. There were thirty-three in all. Swords were overwhelmingly the most numerous, as expected, but there were also axes, spears, and even a mage’s staff planted in the ground.

Naturally, Kyle was far more interested in the swords than the other weapons. He stopped before an enormous greatsword. Even at a glance, it was far too large for a human to wield. He stared intently at a blade bigger than two full-grown men put together.

“That sword’s name is Behemoth.”

Lucia, who was polishing a weapon nearby, quietly spoke up.

“It was the favored sword of Graf, the Beast King who sought to conquer Gladiheim three hundred years ago.”

Next, Kyle examined a sword with a long, curved blade. Its faint blue glow was both beautiful and chilling.

“That sword is called Clear Moon. It was the favored sword of a knight who served House Alastor two hundred years ago as a member of the Funeral Knights.”

Many other swords caught Kyle’s eye as well.

Yes, they caught his eye. Strangely, certain swords made him want to look at them. It felt as though they were drawing his gaze, seeking his attention. At that peculiar sensation, the corners of Kyle’s mouth twitched upward.

Now he was certain. Apparently, Fenris was not the only weapon inhabited by a goblin after all. But the sensation was distinctly weaker than what he had felt from Fenris. His heart wasn’t pounding as it had when he approached that sword.

His gaze simply kept being drawn to them, and he felt a tickling deep inside his body. Concentrating, Kyle looked over the swords again.

One, two.

He could feel the swords’ “gazes.” Only then did he understand this strange sensation. He had not looked at the swords first. They had looked at him. Those nonexistent gazes had stimulated his innate affinity with goblins.

'Who are you?'

Thirty-three flowers made up the Sword Garden. Kyle closed his eyes, seeking the one whose gaze was most ardent.

'Don’t just stare. Say something, so I can recognize you.'

The tickling deep within him became a chilling shudder that ran through his whole body. At last, Kyle sensed a single gaze. He opened his eyes and turned toward it.

A sword stood planted there. It had a single edge rather than two—the kind commonly called a saber. Its shape was ideal for slicing. The blade resembled an enormous kitchen knife, but it looked far too vicious and menacing for chopping scraps of vegetables or meat. It looked made to slice people whole.

Why hadn’t he immediately noticed something so vicious and menacing? Kyle strode toward it. Startled, Lucia followed him.

“Master Kyle? What are you...”

“This one.”

Kyle raised a finger and pointed at it. Lucia’s eyes widened as she looked at the sword he indicated.

“What’s its name?”

“Uh... um...”

Lucia hesitated, unable to answer immediately. Her reaction left Kyle looking puzzled.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve... never seen a weapon like this in the Sword Garden.”

“You’ve never seen it?”

“No... I-I couldn’t see it just a moment ago, either.”

“Hmm.”

Kyle tilted his head and looked back at the sword. Lucia’s words sounded strange, but he could also understand them. He himself had failed to notice this blade both on his first visit three days ago and when he had looked around the garden just now.

Was it because he hadn’t examined each weapon closely? That couldn’t be the only reason. How could something so vicious, so menacing, and so perfectly shaped for killing people fail to catch his eye immediately?

“Its name is Baal.”

Kyle turned at the unexpected voice to find Katarina, Julius’s eldest daughter, standing there.

“It is the blade that began the Sword Garden.”

“Hello, Aunt Katarina.”

Kyle made sure to greet her politely first. As she gave a slight nod, he asked about Baal.

“What do you mean, it’s the blade that began the Sword Garden?”

“Baal was the first blade planted here,” Katarina replied.

“Five hundred years ago, before the founder ascended to heaven, a Demon King visited Gladiheim and planted Baal on that very spot.”