Jade looked back and forth between the hilt in his hand and the iron filings scattered across the ground. The blade had neither been cleanly severed nor snapped in two. It had crumbled on contact, as though its very structure had collapsed.

What if that sword had aimed for his neck instead of his swordbreaker? Jade shuddered at the icy chill running down his spine.

Had the young master wished it, Jade would have been scattered across the training ground in tens of thousands of pieces of flesh.

"... Good thing you've got plenty of money."

Jade gave a hollow chuckle, fiddling with the hilt.

"I hear Gladiheim's smiths can rival dwarves. Is that true?"

"I've heard that too, but I wouldn't know. I've never used the smithy here."

Kyle could have taken up a real sword whenever he wished, but he had refused them all, determined that Fenris would be his first. Naturally, he had never made use of Gladiheim's smithy.

"But just because I've never used it doesn't mean I can't commission something. If you need a new sword, go to the smithy, give them my name, and ask them to make you one."

As he spoke, Kyle looked toward the seats of honor. Among his wide-eyed relatives sat Julius, wearing a pleased smile.

"After that little performance for Grandfather, I'm sure he'll let me commission a single sword."

"Haha..."

Jade let out another hollow laugh and shook his head.

A little performance.

He called it a little performance. To this young master, that sword stroke had been nothing more than a little trick to entertain his grandfather. Shaking his head in disbelief, Jade asked,

"What's your name, young master?"

"Kyle Alastor."

"I see."

Jade took a step back and bowed to Kyle. For all his swagger when he had arrived, he accepted defeat without complaint and acknowledged Kyle's skill.

"Thanks for the lesson. If I ask for another match someday, will you give me one?"

"If you don't mind your sword breaking."

"Heh. I'll work on making sure it doesn't."

With the match decided, Jade turned and left the training ground.

But silence hung over the stands. Half the young warriors gathered there had not even seen how Kyle swung his sword. Most of the remaining half had seen it but understood almost nothing. The tiny handful who understood even a little were appalled.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP.

Someone began to applaud.

It was Lucia. She sprang from her seat and clapped vigorously, looking straight at Kyle.

"Wha... Wooo!"

Lucia's applause was the signal. The young warriors who had been staring openmouthed erupted into cheers. Amid the thunderous roar, Kyle considered for a moment, then raised Fenris overhead.

"Wooo!"

The cheers grew louder. Most of them did not know that the sword Kyle held had been the Sword Demon's beloved weapon five hundred years ago. But they did know that a young master of House Alastor had suddenly dropped from the sky, caught a sword that likewise came flying through the air, and demonstrated overwhelming skill.

Having given them something of a victory salute, Kyle lowered Fenris. Perhaps the sword thought its duty to behave like a sword was over, for Kyle began to sense emotions from it. Even the black mist tried to creep out.

"No."

Remembering how he had trained the guard dog he kept during his mercenary days in his previous life, Kyle whispered firmly to Fenris. The mist immediately subsided, and a dejected feeling traveled through the hilt.

'Who told you to bite me?'

Kyle still had not forgotten how, ten years ago, he had approached Fenris in delight only for it to sink its sharp teeth into him. He was no petty, small-minded man, in this life or his last, but this had nothing to do with being small-minded. Fenris was unquestionably at fault.

He tucked the glum, silent sword at his waist. With no scabbard, it looked decidedly shabby shoved into his leather belt, but Fenris remained docile and did not complain about its treatment.

"Would you like to see more swordsmanship?"

Kyle called toward the seats of honor, and Julius shook his head, still smiling in satisfaction.

"I've seen enough. Come up here now."

At that, Kyle leaped upward. With mana circulating ceaselessly throughout his body, he felt light enough to fly, and a single leap carried him to the seats of honor.

He landed with a thud and bowed to Julius and his relatives.

"I'm back."

Julius rose at his greeting. As he strode toward Kyle, his presence was even more powerful than it had been four years ago, not diminished in the least.

"I never imagined you would stay there four whole years. Four years may not feel so long to an old man like me, but to someone your age, they must have been long and tedious."

"I wasn't bored. And I never felt I was wasting my time there."

"Then how was it?"

"Fascinating and fun."

"Were you not afraid?"

"Being scared made it more fun. All those chills."

Perhaps it was like the pleasure of listening breathlessly to a frightening ghost story. At Kyle's added explanation, Julius laughed again.

"I suspected as much, but it seems you really did enjoy yourself."

Julius gazed into Kyle's golden eyes—the eyes that had intimidated the young knights. He too sensed the abyss in their depths. Even so, to Julius, Kyle was simply an adorable grandson he was glad to see. After regarding him a moment, Julius turned his gaze to Fenris.

"To think Fenris would fly here itself. Did you call it?"

"I suppose it didn't want to see me holding another sword."

"It seems it has finally acknowledged you."

"Apparently. Arrogant sword."

Julius chuckled at his grumbling reply.

"You look healthy. You've grown considerably, too."

"I ate plenty of good things in there. I'm glad you look healthy too, Grandfather."

"Wouldn't it have suited you better if these four years had left me older and weaker?"

Julius asked with a mischievous smile, but Kyle shook his head, perfectly serious.

"Not at all. You need to stay healthy for a long, long time. Beating you when you're old and weak wouldn't make me happy in the slightest."

It was outrageously disrespectful, but Julius laughed. The other relatives could not.

"Wh-what is this brat saying?"

The relative who sprang from his seat in horror was someone Kyle had never met. A young man with dark brown hair and yellow eyes glared at him.

"Who are you?"

There were three unfamiliar faces among the seats of honor. Of those, the one whose identity most intrigued Kyle was Isaac Schulhov, the Wandering Sword Master seated beside Julius.

The reason was simple: he looked tremendously strong. But before Kyle could hear an introduction to the man he most wanted to know about, another man had risen to speak in anger. Kyle was curious about him too, but he hardly looked strong enough to hold his interest. Naturally, Kyle's expression turned unenthusiastic.

"Roel Alastor. My fifth son."

"Ah."

The uncle who had left the Sword Tower to find a cure for the lady of the house. Kyle bowed to Roel.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Kyle Alastor, son of Arian Alastor and the youngest of the purebloods."

"Enough... with the greetings. Explain what you just said instead. You... What did you just say? How dare you spout nonsense about defeating the head of the house..."

"Grandfather likes it when I talk this way."

Kyle raised his head as he spoke.

"Isn't this the ideal relationship in our family?"

"Wh... what?"

"House Alastor's laws tell us to keep proving ourselves, increasing our worth, and growing stronger, don't they?"

Roel could only open and close his mouth, unable to answer. Just as he was about to say something more, Cartan, the eldest son, spoke.

"Sit down, Roel."

"B-brother?"

"Kyle is right. Your nephew may be young, but he understands our house's laws better than you do. Perhaps even better than I."

Cartan looked at Kyle with a faint smile.

"But Kyle, there is one thing I must correct."

"What is it?"

Kyle had crossed paths with Cartan several times during his six years in the Sword Tower, but Cartan had never once shown any dislike of him. As the eldest son, he was well placed to become the next head of the house. It would have been understandable for him to resent Kyle, their current head's favorite, and consider him a rival.

Hearing those words from Cartan now, Kyle could not help feeling a little tense. Perhaps the kindly face Cartan had shown him all this time was merely a mask concealing the beast within.

Now that his fifteen-year-old nephew had grown too much to be dismissed as a child, Cartan was finally showing his true...

"You are no longer the youngest pureblood."

"Pardon?"

"Arian had a baby two years ago."

So much for the beast within.

Kyle swayed violently at Cartan's words. Before entering those goddamned Mudflats, he had joked to Arian and Aslan about a younger sibling. But he had never imagined they would actually give him one.

"A boy or a girl?"

"A girl."

Kyle breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. As he had told Arian then, if he was going to have a younger sibling, he would rather have a sister than a brother.

"She has red hair and golden eyes, just like you."

Roel's face twisted at those words, and Kyle did not miss it. Arian had once told him that Varkas, Gerard, and Roel were the three members of the family who disliked her.

'Looks like he's jealous of the red hair and golden eyes.'

They had, after all, been the founder's distinguishing traits. Julius, the current head, also had red hair and golden eyes, and among his children, only Cartan, Katarina, and Arian had inherited both.

'Among the grandchildren, Cassius and I had red hair and golden eyes. Now my little sister has them too.'

It was hardly surprising that Roel, already jealous of Arian, would be bitter about it.

"What's her name... No, never mind. I'll hear it from them myself."

Kyle felt a mixture of complicated emotions and excitement. His mother in his previous life, consummate professional that she was, had never told the Sword Demon about any half siblings he might have had. Nor had he been particularly curious about them.

But his circumstances were different in this life. Feeling his heart race, Kyle glanced at the Sword Tower in Gladiheim's uppermost district.

"I was wondering where Mom and Father were. They're in the Sword Tower, then?"

"Their daughter is still very young. Arian and Aslan stayed in the residential district, saying this would be bad for her emotional development."

"Knowing Father, he must have wanted to come."

"He's no longer free to do as he pleases."

Cartan smiled wryly. Julius, who had been listening quietly, raised a finger and pointed to the leather pouch Kyle held.

"What is that?"

"Oh... These are gifts I brought from inside."

"Gifts?"

"Nothing extraordinary."

Kyle opened the pouch and took out the brooch.

"I figured you already had plenty of extraordinary things."

Julius stared blankly at the brooch Kyle offered. Set with worked diamonds, it was elegant without being excessively ornate.

"Knowing you, Grandfather, I thought you wouldn't wear anything too flashy even if I gave it to you. So I picked something I thought would suit you."

"You... chose it for me?"

"Well... To be precise, I didn't choose the design myself. The Floor of Asceticism did that. But when I requested it, I asked for a design that would suit you as well as possible, something you could wear every day."

"You requested a gift for me inside the Floor of Asceticism?"

Expensive jewels? The Sword Tower's treasury overflowed with them. To Julius, however, such jewels were no different from stones by the roadside. This brooch was superbly crafted, but he had received gifts like it from his children and grandchildren many times.

Yet his fingers trembled faintly as they reached toward it. This was not even Kyle's first gift to him. The first had been a letter, and he had received several more since.

Was it because the brooch was worth far more than those handwritten letters? No, that was not what moved him. For yes, Julius was deeply moved.

"..."

Julius had entered the Floor of Asceticism several times himself and knew full well that one could receive rewards for hunting there.

It was an environment where even survival was brutal, all the more so on the higher floors. Kyle had entered the lowest, the sixth floor, but for an eleven-year-old child, every day must have been horrific.

And in such a place... Rather than requesting something to help him survive, delicious food, or little luxuries to soothe his fraying mind, he had requested gifts and brought them back. That thought sent a poignant ache through Julius's heart.

"Your eye for such things... leaves something to be desired. I do not ordinarily wear ornaments like this. If a formal occasion requires jewelry, I wear something plainer."

"Then you don't want it?"

"No, I must accept what I am given. As I've told you before, I have... invested a great deal in you. You must spend your life repaying me."

Julius promptly reached for the brooch, but Kyle drew his hand back faster. Julius's eyes widened.

"Why are you pulling it away? I distinctly said I would accept it."

"I want to pin it on you myself."

Kyle grinned at Julius's stern question. Still standing awkwardly, unable to sit back down, Roel could only stare in disbelief as his grand, unapproachable head of house was led about by his grandson.

"Well..."

Isaac felt much the same. He had known Julius longer than Julius's own children had, but he had never once imagined that his cold-blooded, iron-willed old friend could behave this way.

"Right or left? Which would you prefer?"

"..."

"Let's go with the left. It's closer to your heart."

Chuckling, Kyle stepped closer and pinned the brooch to the left side of Julius's uniform.

"I think it suits you."

"..."

Instead of answering, Julius glanced at Isaac. Sensing the unspoken demand in that look, Isaac laughed and clapped his hands.

"It suits you splendidly, old friend!"

Only then did Julius turn his eyes to his children. His eldest son, Cartan, immediately exclaimed in admiration and applauded.

"It suits you very well."

"Y-you look splendid, my lord."

His eldest daughter, Katarina, stammered out her answer too, and all his other children followed, declaring that the brooch suited him.