“What...?”

Varkas’s jaw dropped. The Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art. Of course he knew it. His younger brothers Dante and Seros were practicing that very method.

“Th-that’s impossible!”

Bruno, who had been staring wide-eyed, shouted. His face turned scarlet as he rudely stamped his feet against the floor and raised his voice.

“The Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art is a grade-three cultivation method! You... you’ve begun practicing that?! Stop lying!”

Even Dante and Seros, the children of Julius who had awakened lightning spiritual roots, had only begun the Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art at twenty. When they awakened their spiritual roots at ten, they had learned grade-four cultivation methods.

Had they lacked talent? No, they had not. None of Julius’s children lacked talent. By ordinary standards, every one of them was at least exceptionally gifted.

Naturally, the higher a cultivation method’s grade, the harder it was to begin practicing. No matter how brilliant someone’s comprehension, they could not even begin unless their body was ready. The complexity of the circuits required by higher-level methods was in a different league from those of lower grades.

Under the Sword Tower grand library’s classification system, grade-three methods represented the pinnacle of cultivation using the lower energy center. Bruno, now fifteen, had practiced a grade-four method since he was ten, yet had only reached its fourth stage. He had not opened enough circuits, and had barely developed his spiritual root. As he was now, he could never begin a grade-three method, not even if he died and came back to life.

And this brat, who had awakened his spiritual root yesterday, claimed to have begun such an advanced method. It defied common sense. It was absolutely impossible. For that matter, beginning any cultivation method on the very day one awakened a spiritual root made no sense.

“Why would I lie?”

Kyle took another crunchy bite of thunderbolt fruit as he spoke.

“Especially when it would be so easy to catch me. What reason would I have?”

“Y-you just want to act special!”

Bruno spat the words out, trembling. Kyle Alastor. He did not like his cousin, who was five years younger.

No, it was more than dislike. He hated him. The brat infuriated him. Bruno still had not forgotten the punch Kyle had landed on him in the Sword Tower’s first-floor hall five years ago. The cold look in the head of the house’s eyes. His father’s expression as he sternly rebuked him for coming home in disgrace.

That was not the only reason he hated him. Ever since the brat arrived, life in the Sword Tower had begun revolving around him. The head of the house, whom Bruno feared even encountering, always treated that brat as someone special. And with every year the brat grew older, his father’s manner grew harsher.

Yesterday had been particularly bad. After the brat awakened his spiritual root on his birthday, his father had returned from hearing what kind of root it was with the most murderous expression Bruno had ever seen on his face.

“You... you love attention. That’s why you go to the Hall of Sword Pinnacles whenever you get the chance, and plant your ass right in the middle of the Sword Garden to make yourself stand out... Th-that’s why you’re lying now, too. Am I wrong?”

“You have a strange way of thinking.”

Kyle shook his head with a disbelieving laugh.

“If I really loved attention, why would I bother with all that? Taking a nice big shit on the Sword Tower’s first floor would get me far more attention.”

“What...?”

“Has a pureblood ever taken a shit in the middle of the first floor in the entire history of the Sword Tower? No, right? Hey, if you want attention, stop wasting your breath spouting nonsense. Just go down to the first floor, drop your pants, and take a shit. Who knows? Grandfather might think, ‘Now there’s a real man,’ and start doting on you.”

Bruno had listened to see what Kyle had to say, only to hear an insult that was not worth listening to. His face flushed scarlet. Fury welled up so fiercely that his voice would not come out properly, leaving him trembling, his lips opening and closing.

“You... truly began practicing the Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art?”

Varkas composed his expression as he asked. Unlike his son, he did not think Kyle would lie about something like this, but it defied common sense so thoroughly that he had no choice but to ask again.

Kyle popped the remaining piece of thunderbolt fruit into his mouth and raised a finger. Mana surged from his lower energy center, passed through his middle energy center, circulated through his circuits, and gathered in his finger.

CRACKLE!

Varkas’s eyes wavered at the violet current rising from Kyle’s fingertip.

“Fucking hell...”

The stunned curse slipped from Varkas’s mouth. Awakening a lightning spiritual root allowed one to convert mana into lightning energy, but not immediately after awakening.

The reason was simple. The spiritual root was weak, and there were too few circuits. Ultimately, lower-level cultivation methods were a process of laying the foundations for learning higher-level ones.

Yet the child before him, who had only awakened his spiritual root yesterday, was producing lightning energy from his fingertip. The grade-four methods that pureblood children initially learned could not convert mana like that at the introductory stage.

“You really began the Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art...?”

Bruno could no longer insist otherwise. Kyle withdrew the lightning energy lingering at his fingertip and grinned.

“You said you came to strengthen our family ties.”

Of course, they were hardly here simply to get closer as relatives. Judging by their overbearing manner and all that talk about being a knight cadet, they must have come to coax him into sparring under the pretext of family bonding and instruction.

“I’m really happy you came with that in mind, Uncle. I’ve been wanting to get closer to my cousins myself.”

Kyle glanced at Bruno. His face, previously twisted with anger and shock, was gradually taking on another expression. His cheeks and the corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes darted restlessly. Remembering the purpose of their visit, Bruno was probably trying to gauge Kyle’s abilities.

“So, how are we going to get closer?”

Kyle asked with an innocent smile. Varkas fell silent for a moment.

Beginning the Violet Lightning Heaven-Striking Art in a single day was astonishing. Such aptitude certainly deserved the head of the house’s favor. There could be no monster like this boy in all of Alastor’s history.

Fortunately, however, that monster had yet to mature. Varkas had enough honesty to admit that his son’s talent could not compare to the boy’s. But however vast the gap in talent, time would still be on Bruno’s side for now.

‘Bruno should be far ahead in total mana, but swordsmanship...’

GRIND.

Varkas clenched his molars. For five years, his insolent nephew had come and gone from the Hall of Sword Pinnacles as though it were his own bedroom, learning the sword from the head of the house. The man himself had called it “play” rather than instruction, but the mere fact that Julius Alastor, the Thunder Emperor, swung his sword in response to the boy would offer more than enough instruction to a monster brimming with talent.

‘Even Lucia said she’s never beaten him in a match of pure swordsmanship.’

Kyle’s talent was simply absurd; Lucia herself possessed a talent for the sword that had drawn Gladiheim’s attention. Though she had only become a knight cadet at the beginning of this year, she was receiving more attention than Bruno, who had been one for two years. On top of that, Varkas had heard that Kyle had read through every grade-five swordsmanship manual in the grand library over the past five years.

‘Bruno can’t beat him in a swordsmanship match, but...’

That only applied to an ordinary swordsmanship match. Kyle might have read all those manuals, but Bruno had far more experience wielding mana. Having gathered his thoughts, Varkas planted a hand on Bruno’s shoulder.

“For children of a martial house, nothing builds friendship better than crossing swords.”

He did not intend to use this opportunity to injure his nephew out of jealousy over his genius. But the boy’s boundless momentum needed checking at least once.

The greater the genius, the greater the arrogance, confidence, and self-esteem. Kyle, in particular, had not suffered a single failure since coming to the Sword Tower five years ago. Everyone praised him as a genius and a monster. He knew it himself, and his self-esteem was full to bursting. If such a boy lost to an opponent he had considered insignificant, it might become more than a single defeat. It could leave a lasting trauma.

Hoping fervently that Kyle would suffer just that, Varkas tightened his grip on his son’s shoulder.

“My son Bruno has studied the sword as a knight cadet for two years. Kyle, as an Alastor pureblood, you too will become a knight someday. So learn from Bruno how a knight swings a sword, and how a knight fights.”

What a petty, pathetic excuse. Kyle hardly needed Bruno to teach him that. He could learn it from Lucia, or from Erika, who was already an apprentice knight.

“Sounds good to me.”

But Kyle smiled brightly. He decided to play along with Varkas’s transparent scheme.

‘They’ll keep picking fights with me anyway.’

He had been establishing pecking orders this way since growing up in a mercenary company. He was used to it, and enjoyed it, too.

As for his other reason...

“Have you lost your mind? You want a child who only just awakened his spiritual root to spar with a knight cadet?”

Arian, who had been standing there in disbelief, flared up at her brother. But Kyle calmly took hold of her sleeve.

“I’m fine. I spar all the time, and I want to get closer to my cousin, too.”

“But Kyle...!”

“It really is fine. If things get dangerous, you and Uncle won’t just stand there watching, will you? Besides, Bruno’s older than he was back then. He won’t lose his temper and bring out his aura.”

Bruno’s face crumpled. It was hard to stomach hearing that from someone not even his own age, but five years younger.

“You insolent...”

“If you don’t like my attitude, how about this? If I win, I keep calling you whatever I want. If you win, I’ll call you big brother.”

Kyle cut Bruno off with a grin.

“If big brother isn’t enough, something else is fine, too. Lord Bruno? Master Bruno? I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“You...”

Bruno’s eyebrows twitched upward.

“You’d better keep your promise. Understood?”

“I’ve never broken a single promise in my life.”

Of course, Kyle did not actually remember whether he had ever broken a promise.

Kyle and Bruno faced each other in front of Rose Manor.

Kyle would have been perfectly happy with real swords, but Arian’s objections had led them to use wooden swords for this match.

‘Come to think of it, I still don’t have a real sword.’

Now that he had begun martial training in earnest, he was allowed to wield one. Usually, a first sword was custom-made at a smithy in Gladiheim, but Kyle did not feel much need for a real sword yet.

He had Fenris. His body was still too small to wield it properly, but if possible, he wanted Fenris to be the first sword he used in this life. It might be a fucking mutt that could not even recognize its own master, but their bond went back five hundred years.

‘That bastard...’

Bruno glared at Kyle, his face twisted. They stood a set distance apart, holding wooden swords. The start of the match had not yet been announced, but a wooden sword was still a sword. They were standing before their opponent with weapons in hand.

‘What the hell is he looking at?’

Kyle’s eyes were clearly facing forward, but his attention was not on Bruno at all. Bruno ground his molars.

That bright red hair, those golden eyes, that pretty face. There was not one damn thing he liked about the bastard.

‘Calm... calm down.’

Bruno’s bad habit was getting too emotional. He had been scolded for it since childhood, yet could never seem to fix it. Taking a deep breath, he gripped his wooden sword with both hands.

Five years ago, Bruno had awakened an earth spiritual root. Accordingly, he had learned a cultivation method for controlling earth mana, along with its accompanying sword style.

The earth was vast and solid. It did not surge like the sea, sway like the wind, rage like fire, move swiftly like lightning, or chill like ice. The earth was always still, firmly supporting all those things. And at times, it had to rise like a mighty mountain to crush its opponent, never wavering in the process. That was the sword style Bruno had learned.

‘Father said it would be difficult for me to win on swordsmanship alone, but...’

Bruno had his own pride and stubbornness. He had learned the sword before Kyle, and since becoming a knight cadet, he had trained so brutally that he had truly thought death might be preferable. He did not want to admit that his skill could fall short of a brat who had only swung his sword at play, with Lucia going easy on him.

But to Bruno, his father Varkas was as frightening as the head of the house. No, in some ways, he was even more frightening. So Bruno had decided to do as his father instructed.

However skilled Kyle might be, he could not break through Bruno’s sword without sufficient strength. Bruno could block his light blows and counterattack. Or he could simply crush him with force.

Bruno channeled mana into the hands gripping his wooden sword. It surged forth. The wooden sword vibrated faintly, and mana drawn from his earth spiritual root enveloped its blade. At the same time, his body radiated a massive, heavy pressure, like a boulder embedded in the ground for countless years.

“You ready?”

Bruno growled, glaring at Kyle. His father was watching, and he had even made a wager with this insolent bastard. He would never let his guard down as he had five years ago.

Only then did Kyle’s gaze settle on Bruno. Letting the wooden sword hang comfortably at his side in his right hand, he replied,

“I’ve been ready for a while. Shall we start?”

“You cocky little bastard...!”

Bruno nearly snapped, but barely managed to restrain himself. He could not get worked up. This cultivation method and sword style required him to be as still as the earth.

The match began.

Kyle simply stood there holding his sword. Bruno glared at him. After all that needling, he had expected Kyle to charge in from the outset, but the boy showed no sign of moving first.

Then Bruno would change his approach. He tried to advance, intending to crush Kyle with sheer, overwhelming strength.

Strangely, however, his feet would not leave the ground. Because he was connected to the earth? That was not the problem. If he wished, this massive rocky mountain could crush his opponent whole.

The reason he could not take a step was an utterly simple instinct.

He must not approach.

He must not raise his sword.

He must not attack.

Why? Cold sweat began streaming down Bruno’s forehead. He had done his utmost to learn the sword. From an opponent’s stance alone, he could discern to some extent where to attack and where the openings lay.

Kyle was full of openings. He was not even holding his sword properly, merely standing at ease. He was somewhat bigger than the average ten-year-old, but he was nothing compared to Bruno. Elixirs? Bruno had consumed plenty of those himself. With mana added to his strength, he was confident he could crush whatever power Kyle’s body produced as easily as stepping on a leaf.

That should have been true, yet he could not do it. He did not want to. He felt he must not. His thoughts, which had frozen before he realized it, reached a single conclusion.

If he approached, he would die.

DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.

The cold sweat running down his forehead began falling to the ground. It was not only his face. His entire body was soaked in cold sweat, including both hands. His grip on the wooden sword felt terribly uncomfortable.

He wanted to forget everything, drop his sword, and run.

‘What...?’

Watching, Varkas narrowed his eyes. Bruno had drawn up his mana and established his presence before the match even began. The core of the Bedrock Sword Style he practiced was to pressure his opponent with overwhelming weight and strength.

Yet Bruno himself could not move. His face had gone deathly pale, and the legs that should have stood firm were trembling.

“...”

Varkas clenched his fists and glared at Kyle. A chill ran down his spine. It was a ten-year-old child merely standing there. Yet, absurd as it was, Varkas felt intimidated by him.

Kyle was not pointing his sword or radiating killing intent. Even so, his presence was strangely immense.

‘His eyes...’

Varkas identified the source of that intimidation. Kyle’s eyes. Unnaturally calm for his age, with every trace of his earlier playfulness gone, they were studying Bruno.

His gaze moved over the throat, heart, arms, legs. Everything that could be stabbed or cut. Varkas swallowed despite himself.

Without showing even a hint of murderous intent, the child was inspecting the meat called Bruno like a butcher preparing to slice it.

‘Fucking hell...’

He was merely standing at ease, but if his body acted on the will in his gaze, that wooden sword would attempt to butcher Bruno like a kitchen knife. Varkas saw it, and Bruno sensed it faintly as well.

Had he known nothing at all, he could have charged in blindly. But because he had embarked on the path of the sword, he had become a prisoner of fear.

‘What kind of boy is he...?’

Varkas transmitted his voice to his son through mana.

[“What are you doing, Bruno? Don’t be afraid! Attack!”]

Even if Kyle’s body moved according to his gaze and will, his blade was still dull. If Bruno committed to attacking, the difference in strength would decide the match.

[“Don’t let his gaze fool you! Right now, you’re still stronger! So attack!”]

Varkas continued transmitting his angry voice, but Bruno heard his father only faintly.

Right now, Kyle standing before him was far more frightening than the father he had known for fifteen years.