Rose Manor stood some distance from the city of Vigrid, while the Blade Mountains stretched north of the city.

The main line and branch families bearing the Alastor name, along with all the knightly orders under their command, resided in Gladiheim in the Blade Mountains.

Arian had lived in Gladiheim before marrying. But after running away and returning to Vigrid, she had not gone back there. Instead, she had bought Rose Manor on the outskirts, away from the city, with her own money.

'They must know.'

House Alastor had eyes even in the foreign country she had married into. For that matter, the maids at Rose Manor were her personal attendants, who had served her since her days in Gladiheim.

And yet, in five years, not a single person from Vigrid had visited her. Well, it was hardly as though she had returned in triumph. Arian narrowed her eyes at the fortress of Vigrid drawing ever closer.

'Father must have strictly forbidden them from visiting. That nasty old man.'

Surely he knew she had given birth, too. His silence over the past five years could only mean he was waiting for her to return of her own accord.

"Whew..."

Arian had married and left Vigrid at twenty-three. Now she was already twenty-nine. The thought of seeing her father and siblings for the first time in six years made her unavoidably nervous.

"Mom."

A soft little hand closed snugly around hers and stroked her tightly clenched fist. Startled, she looked down to find her son blinking his golden eyes up at her, as adorable, sweet, and lovable as an angel.

"Don't you want to go?"

This was her first time giving birth to and raising a child herself, but she had much younger siblings. She knew children could be surprisingly perceptive. At once, Arian softened her expression into a smile and hugged her son tight.

"No, it's all right. I have to see them sooner or later."

Guilt washed over her for dragging her son into her own awkward circumstances. Always one to act on her feelings, she swallowed her self-reproach over impulsively running away five years ago and now returning to Vigrid like this.

Kyle noticed it, too.

'Well, these things happen.'

After growing up surrounded by Arian's abundant motherly love for five years, he could no longer bring himself to blame her for anything. Stroking her faintly trembling hand, he looked toward Gladiheim.

The Sword Demon Raikal had been defeated and killed by House Alastor's founder. But reincarnated as Kyle, he bore Ruin not the slightest resentment. In the war-torn age he had lived through, it was only natural for the weak to die in defeat. Anyone who wanted to live had to flee, however humiliating it might be.

The Sword Demon himself had never considered fleeing after defeat particularly humiliating. He was no honor-obsessed knight. He was a mercenary, born to a mercenary.

The truths of the battlefield had been with him from the moment he was born. In the end, nothing mattered more than his own life. As long as he survived, he could think about what came next. Even if he lost now, as long as he did not die, he could eat, sleep, examine the reasons for his defeat, and fight again.

That was how the Sword Demon had lived his entire life.

With one exception: his battle against Ruin Alastor.

'That was a fight I didn't want to run from.'

Could he have escaped if he had tried?

Probably. He believed he had possessed the skill for it... and he doubted Ruin Alastor would have gone out of his way to stop the Sword Demon from fleeing.

But he had not wanted to run. If he could, he would have fought for the rest of his life.

It had not been some desperate resolve to fight even at the cost of his life. He had simply enjoyed it too much. He had been unable to stop his sword. And after fighting for a long time, he had died.

Looking back, that was all there was to it.

There was no grand story behind it. He had simply wanted to know how impressive, how strong, this unknown man was—the man who had supposedly come down from seclusion in the mountains and put an end to the empire's mess. So, just as he always did, he had hurried over.

He had enjoyed the fight, lost, and died.

That was all. And yet Kyle felt reverence and affection for Ruin Alastor, whom he had met and fought for the first time, and who had been the first to kill him. It might be a strange comparison, but the feeling was like a first love.

'No, not my first love.'

If this sort of feeling counted as love, then Kyle's first love had been the sword itself. Strictly speaking, that would make Ruin Alastor his second love.

'So I don't resent you. Not after all the people I killed back then. It would be petty to hold a grudge just because you killed me.'

Besides, had he not even reincarnated?

Being reborn as Ruin Alastor's descendant was a joke in itself. But in any case, far from resenting the man who had killed him five hundred years ago, Kyle revered him. He therefore bore his descendants nothing resembling a grudge, either.

At least, not yet.

If they badly mistreated Arian... or mistreated him for whatever reason, all sorts of feelings were bound to arise. That was simply human nature.

"Let's go down now."

They stopped flying near Gladiheim's gates. Kyle's eyes gleamed as he looked down.

Old weapons stood embedded here and there in the hill leading up to the gates.

"That's the Road of Vanquished Swords," Arian whispered. "It's also called the Hill of Wailing. Those are the gravestones of people who came to challenge the founder and House Alastor over the past five hundred years. Or enemies who came to invade us. Quite an eyesore, isn't it? I wish they'd just clear them aw—"

"Woooow!"

Before Arian could finish, Kyle cried out in wonder. The moment they landed, he approached a nearby sword.

Despite its name, the Road of Vanquished Swords held more than swords. Still, swords vastly outnumbered the other weapons.

House Alastor might now be famous for other weapons as well, but its founder had wielded a sword. At its roots, it was a house of swordsmen. Naturally, the overwhelming majority of those who had challenged its supremacy would have been swordsmen, too.

"Gravestones..."

His heart pounding, Kyle surveyed the sword before him—no, all the weapons scattered across the hill. He, too, had challenged Ruin Alastor, lost, and died. As someone who had gone before them, he felt a kinship with these gravestones.

WOOOO...

At the same time, he understood why this place was also called the Hill of Wailing. The winds sweeping through the Blade Mountains passed between the weapons, raising a sound like lamentation.

A sharp tingle ran deep through Kyle's body at that wailing. At the same time, warmth stirred in his lower abdomen.

'Hm?'

Kyle blinked and rubbed his lower abdomen. The sensation was not unfamiliar... but surely that was impossible. Tilting his head, he returned to Arian.

"Can I pull one out and take it?"

"I... don't think so?"

Arian trailed off as she looked at the weapons along the Road of Vanquished Swords. They had belonged to weaklings not worth remembering. Some had stood there for hundreds of years, and naturally, no one maintained them. Most were rusty and damaged.

"They're icky. Don't touch them."

"But I weally want one..."

Since learning to pronounce his words properly at four, Kyle had only resorted to baby talk when absolutely necessary. Now, for the first time in a while, he brought it out again.

"You can't, even if you want one! It's icky! Touch it and you'll get an owie! An owie!"

"Aww..."

Despite being five, Kyle had yet to hold even a wooden sword, let alone a real one.

There were none at Rose Manor, but the real reason was Arian's strict prohibition.

Anyone born into House Alastor who wished to embark on the martial path in earnest needed the permission of the head of the house.

Until then, children were not allowed to hold real weapons. They were dangerous for children to handle, and training too early could hinder growth. But the greatest reason was that they were not yet physically or mentally mature enough to shoulder the Alastor name.

"There are lots of swords like these inside! You don't need these ones!"

Kyle's eyes lit up at her coaxing.

"Really? Lots?"

"Of course! And there are more gravestones like these in front of the castle."

"More gravestones?"

"Yes! For the knights and vassals who served House Alastor. And... for challengers and enemies worth remembering, rather than leaving here."

"Wow!"

Kyle's eyes gleamed at those words.

Challengers worth remembering.

["Raikal, Sword Demon. I shall remember you."]

He recalled what Ruin Alastor had said as he lay dying. Perhaps the sword he had wielded five hundred years ago stood among those gravestones. Kyle clenched his fists in anticipation.

'You said you'd remember me, so it must be there, right? It had better be.'

The knight who had killed the Sword Demon's father had not even remembered his name.

"If the head of the house gives his permission today, I'll let you hold a sword. I'll find you a teacher, too."

Arian whispered as she pinched her excited son's soft cheek. He had only been pretending to sulk, but it had worked nicely all the same. Kyle nodded with a sweet little smile.

He might have a grown, hairy-legged Sword Demon inside him, but in front of Arian, Kyle acted his age.

'Maybe it's because I never got any love from my mother in my past life...'

With that thought, he took Arian's hand and approached Gladiheim's gates.

The gates remained closed, even though their approach by air must have been noticed long ago. Arian clicked her tongue as she glared at them.

'So they did know I'd returned to Vigrid.'

She accepted that this cold treatment was inevitable, since she had failed to visit and pay her respects sooner despite that. Still, they knew she had not come alone. Being so openly snubbed made her feel ashamed and sorry toward her son.

"Please halt."

The knights guarding the gates stopped Arian. They belonged to the Black Iron Knights, the defenders of the main castle known as Alastor's shield. A knight in a black uniform respectfully bowed his head to her.

"Lady Arian. It has been a long time."

"Indeed it has, Sir Raymond. To think the commander himself is guarding the gates. Have the Black Iron Knights developed a staffing shortage in my absence?"

"An Alastor pureblood has returned. Naturally, I must greet you in person."

"What a lovely welcome. It would have been even nicer if you'd thrown the gates wide open."

"Had you returned alone, Lady Arian, we would of course have opened them wide to welcome you."

Raymond spoke without raising his bowed head. Arian gave a short laugh and tightened her grip on Kyle's hand.

"Raise your head, Sir Raymond."

"Yes, my lady."

"First, I apologize for arriving unannounced."

"There is no need for that. You are an Alastor pureblood, Lady Arian, and this is Gladiheim. You may come and go freely whenever you please."

"You mean this child has yet to prove his right to enter."

Raymond answered with an awkward expression. He bent his knees, lowering himself to meet Kyle's eyes.

The family's troublemaker, who had married and left six years ago, had returned with a small child. Even without being told, he could naturally guess who the boy was.

But as commander of the Black Iron Knights, known as Gladiheim's shield, he could hardly throw open the gates without first confirming the visitor's identity. With due respect, Raymond asked, "Who might this be?"

"My son. Kyle, say hello. This is Raymond Alastor, a distant relative of yours."

His branch of the family was far removed from the main line. They shared the Alastor surname, but the main line and branch families were by no means equal.

"Hello."

Kyle understood that distinction, of course. Members of the main line had no need to bow to those of a branch family.

But he bowed his head politely anyway. Main line or branch family aside, he respected Raymond's skill. As commander of the Black Iron Knights, Raymond was a powerful man worthy of recognition. Regardless of Kyle's young body, that strength prickled at the Sword Demon's soul.

'Ah, if only I were bigger.'

He wanted to fight him. Kyle smacked his lips, regretting that he could not indulge the desire welling up inside him. However difficult it might be for a branch family member to refuse a request from the main line, no one would accept a five-year-old's challenge.

"Lady Arian's son...!"

He had guessed as much, but hearing it confirmed still surprised him. Raymond had known Arian since she was little. To think that wild, headstrong tomboy was now a mother... Returning from his memories, he bowed his head.

"I am honored to meet a new pureblood."

"It's nice to meet you, Sir Raymond. I have a question."

A mercenary had to be shrewd. He had to make the most of every advantage he possessed, and sometimes endure humiliation for profit, survival, or victory.

Kyle was no different. He might be the Sword Demon with every memory of his previous life intact, but right now he was a five-year-old boy.

A child's advantage was innocence. So he put on an innocent face and asked, "How strong are you, Sir Raymond?"

"Pardon?"

The abrupt question caught Raymond off guard.

"Kyle? What brought that question on?"

"I'm curious."

"Hmm... I'm sorry, Sir Raymond. My son is very inquisitive."

"Not at all. It's quite all right. When I was young, I was very curious about such things myself—who was the strongest in the world, and so on."

Raymond answered as he regained his composure.

"Young Master Kyle. I... pride myself on being fairly strong."

"How strong compared to everyone in the world?"

"That... I cannot say. I have never fought everyone."

"Then where do you rank in this castle?"

"Hmm..."

Child or not, a pureblood had asked him a question. He could not lie.

"Excluding the purebloods, I rank twelfth in Gladiheim."

"Wow!"

This time, his innocent expression was no act.

'So there are at least eleven people stronger than him.'

The mention of rankings suggested that Gladiheim had a clear measure of strength. His heart pounding, Kyle broke into a broad smile.

"Does that answer satisfy you?"

"Yes, it does."

The smile so closely resembled Arian's as a child that Raymond smiled warmly in return. Straightening, he said, "Now that your identity has been confirmed, I shall open Gladiheim's gates."

At his words, a rumble sounded.

RRRRUMBLE!

The enormous iron gates swung open.

Holding Arian's hand, Kyle followed Raymond through them.

"The head of the house and your family are waiting in the Sword Tower."

A carriage stood waiting just beyond the gates. Kyle climbed in with Arian.

Seated with Arian's hand in his, Kyle never let his eyes rest, taking in every part of Gladiheim visible through the window. Arian smiled at the sight.

Her son was precocious and gifted, but the way he gazed around with sparkling eyes made him look every bit the five-year-old he was.

'The smell of iron.'

Arian imagined her son's thoughts to be as innocent as his age. In truth, Kyle's thoughts were not particularly innocent at all.

Iron smelled like blood.

Now that he had left the rose-filled, sweet-smelling manor and was passing through Gladiheim, chills ran through his whole body, and the blood in his veins seemed to grow hot.

This place, filled with the smell of iron, reminded him of the battlefield. The battlefield where the Sword Demon had been born and lived. Recalling the countless battlefields and fights he had roamed through five hundred years ago, Kyle clenched his hand tight.

A sword.

He wanted to hold a sword.

"The carriage cannot go any farther."

They stopped before reaching the Sword Tower. Raymond rose first and opened the carriage door.

Stepping out with Arian, Kyle was momentarily spellbound by the sight before him.

The vast garden stretching before the Sword Tower looked less like a garden than a collection of gravestones, just as Arian had said.

Here stood the weapons of knights and vassals who had served House Alastor over five hundred years—and of challengers and enemies worth remembering.

The sight was entirely unlike the Road of Vanquished Swords. Those weapons were neglected and abandoned, but every weapon here had been carefully polished and maintained.

Where the Road of Vanquished Swords, the Hill of Wailing, was forlorn and bleak, this place was magnificent and beautiful.

"This is the Sword Garden."

Kyle wholeheartedly agreed with Raymond's introduction.

Arian had called them gravestones, but to Kyle, this was a flower bed filled with beautiful blossoms.

His heart pounded harder than it had on the Road of Vanquished Swords. Chills swept through him, and the heat in his lower abdomen intensified.

'... Huh?'

Kyle, who had been surveying the Sword Garden with shining eyes, stopped dead.

"Kyle?"

He did not even hear Arian calling him. His eyes wide, he scanned the Sword Garden again.

'Huuuh...?'

"Kyle? What's wrong?"

Arian looked at him with concern, but Kyle did not answer. His jaw dropped.