'You son of a bitch.'

Kyle swore inwardly. For all that talk about remembering him, the sword he had wielded as the Sword Demon was nowhere to be found, no matter how thoroughly he searched the Sword Garden.

Perhaps it was mixed in with the rusty scrap on the Road of Vanquished Swords... The ominous possibility sent his anger boiling even hotter.

"Kyle, what's wrong with you?"

As he stood trembling with his teeth clenched, Arian crouched to meet his eyes, her face full of concern.

"Are you feeling ill? If you are..."

"I'm... fine."

Kyle shook his head, hiding his seething anger. Though Arian had no idea what was going through her son's mind, she put an arm around his shoulders.

'Right... Well... It has been five hundred years... '

Hadn't Ruin Alastor said it himself?

["There are still many I must cut down."]

Indeed, Ruin Alastor had fought many battles even after ending the struggle for the imperial throne. He had led the suppression of rebellions by imperial nobles and reclaimed the empire's lands from territories that had declared independence amid the civil war.

Afterward, he had continued wandering the world, forcibly ending conflicts across the continent. He had also stood against the armies of other races.

Over the course of ten years, he had made war disappear from the continent.

The empire's new emperor had hoped to unify the continent through Ruin Alastor's strength, but Ruin had refused, saying the empire was already large enough.

How could the emperor argue when the very man who had cut down every other imperial prince refused him to his face? In that era, the empire's citizens supported and admired Ruin Alastor rather than the emperor. Even imperial authority meant nothing.

Thus Ruin Alastor was acclaimed as a saint of the empire and granted the title of grand duke, along with the epithet Sword Saint.

Ruin Alastor had not stopped there.

He had taken Vigrid, a barren stretch of land in the empire's north, as his domain.

His reason was to keep watch over the fiendish realm across the sea: Erebos, the world of the Demons.

'He spent his whole life cutting down humans, other races, and Demons. Maybe he fought someone stronger than me.'

Once his anger subsided, other emotions began stirring in its place.

Jealousy? Betrayal? Disappointment? Feelings of that sort. Kyle swallowed a sigh and forced a smile for Arian.

"I'm really fine."

"Hmm... Well, that's a relief, but..."

Arian continued studying him, unable to dismiss her concern so easily.

"If you feel unwell, tell me right away. All right?"

"Yes."

Arian stood and took Kyle's hand again. Raymond, who had been waiting, resumed guiding them.

Beyond the Sword Garden, the Sword Tower was far more imposing up close than it had been from a distance. The pillar carved from immense black stones resembled a sword soaring high enough to pierce the heavens. Banners hung here and there, embroidered with the Alastor crest, the Sword Flower—a flower formed from blades.

"This is as far as I will accompany you."

Raymond stopped before they reached the Sword Tower's main entrance.

"Thank you for guiding us, Sir Raymond."

"Thank you, Sir Raymond."

Raymond smiled warmly at Kyle as the boy bowed.

Holding Kyle's hand, Arian approached the main entrance.

RUMBLE!

Before she could open them herself, the tower's double doors swung open on their own.

"Arian Alastor has arrived."

Arian strode confidently inside, leading Kyle by the hand.

Several people were waiting in the first-floor hall of the Sword Tower. Each exuded an extraordinary presence, and all of them turned to glare at the mother and son.

Arian's siblings and their children.

Kyle's relatives.

'Hmm... '

The gazes pouring over him held a range of emotions: curiosity, wariness, surprise.

And hostility. An ordinary five-year-old would have shrunk back or burst into tears beneath those stares and that suffocating atmosphere. Kyle, however, walked on unperturbed, assessing the emotions in their eyes.

'So this is Alastor's main line. They live up to the name.'

He met his uncles' and aunts' eyes one by one. Who was strongest? He would have to fight them to know for certain, but he made a rough ranking of his relatives based on their gazes and the air about them.

'Two are missing.'

Apparently, not all his relatives had gathered.

"Arian."

A red-haired man with golden eyes spoke. He sighed quietly and slowly shook his head.

"I don't even know what to say. You... incorrigible girl."

"It's been six years. Why not start with 'It's been a while'?"

"Hah..."

"If you won't, I will. It's been a while, Cartan. How have you been?"

Cartan Alastor, the eldest son, heaved a long sigh at the sight of his younger sister, home after six years.

"You're as shameless as ever. Have you no idea what you've done wrong?"

A hulking brown-haired man spat the words out with a scowl. He was the bastard who had openly displayed irritation and hostility from the moment they entered the tower.

"You've been married too, Varkas. You know a marriage can go one way or another."

"You shameless..."

"At least I haven't divorced, unlike you. We're just, well, living apart."

A vein bulged on Varkas's forehead at her taunt. Before he could shout something in outrage, a red-haired woman caught his shoulder.

"Arian."

Cold golden eyes fixed on her. Arian had held her head high before the eldest and second sons, but she could not do so under that gaze. Kyle felt her hand twitch in his.

"It's... been a while, Katarina."

"You must have had your reasons, but I won't ask here. That is for the head of the house to hear and judge."

Katarina Alastor, the eldest daughter. After studying Arian for a moment, she shifted her gaze to Kyle.

"Hello."

Kyle spoke before Arian could introduce him. Looking straight into Katarina's icy eyes, he said,

"My name is Kyle Alastor."

"Hmm."

Katarina was surprised that he showed not the slightest tremor amid the oppressive, hostile atmosphere. She studied him quietly and asked,

"How old are you?"

"Five."

"Five..."

Katarina's eyes moved to her young nieces and nephews. All were older than Kyle, and all had been born and raised in the Sword Tower.

Yet despite seeing her every day, not one of them could meet her eyes even now.

"We can exchange greetings later. The head of the house is waiting."

Cartan opened the door leading into the corridor.

The air in the corridor was colder and heavier than in the hall.

The solemnity imposed by relatives he had never met was as menacing as walking on a blade, but Kyle paid it no mind as he looked around.

Portraits of successive heads of the house lined the corridor. Not all had red hair and golden eyes, but many did.

'The bastard's glaring like hell.'

Varkas was walking right beside him, staring. Powerful emotions burned in his eyes. Absurdly enough, the bastard was jealous of his five-year-old nephew's hair and eye color.

"May I call you Uncle?"

Kyle looked up at Varkas.

"..."

Varkas did not answer, nor did he look at Kyle again. He turned his head away, irritation plain on his face.

"I'll introduce you to your relatives one by one later."

Perhaps thinking her son would be hurt by the snub, Arian whispered to him.

At the end of the corridor stood the doors to the Hall of Sword Pinnacles: the center of the Sword Tower and the heart of Alastor, where all the house's affairs, great and small, were decided. Cartan announced them.

"My lord. Arian and her son have arrived."

The doors opened in lieu of a reply. Steadying her breathing, Arian entered the Hall of Sword Pinnacles with Kyle.

At the far end of the vast chamber, a man seated on a black iron throne regarded the mother and son.

The instant Kyle saw him, everything else in the hall slipped from his awareness. All his surroundings seemed to blur, pushed aside by the man's presence. So vast, powerful, and absolute was the presence he radiated.

A name that always arose whenever the continent's strongest were discussed. The head of House Alastor, which ruled the empire's north.

Julius Alastor.

"..."

Julius watched the mother and son without a word. His silence alone exerted an oppressive weight, as though an immense mountain range were pressing down on them.

Arian took another deep breath and released Kyle's hand. Placing a hand over her chest, she spoke.

"I greet the head of the house. Your unfilial daughter Arian pays her respects after six years."

Julius did not reply. In the silence, his eyes shifted. Golden eyes as keen as a predator's fixed on Kyle.

A chill ran through Kyle's entire body beneath that gaze. The pressure was far too much for the mind of a five-year-old to bear. Julius was openly sizing him up.

HUM...

It did not end with his gaze. A thread of fighting aura seeped out and washed over Kyle. An ordinary child—no, even an extraordinary one—would have gone pale before such an aura, wet themselves in terror, and fled.

Kyle, however, felt a thrill of excitement instead. The corners of his mouth twitched upward of their own accord.

He had known at first sight. Julius was strong. The relatives he had seen earlier were strong too, but Julius was on an entirely different level. Even five hundred years ago, warriors of his caliber had been rare.

'So this is the head of House Alastor... '

Kyle met Julius's eyes without lowering his gaze. His body began trembling on its own, not from fear but from eager excitement. He truly regretted being only five years old.

"I like the look in your eyes."

Julius had spoken.

"And your expression."

The fighting aura brushing over Kyle withdrew all at once, and the pressure weighing on his body vanished.

"You really are shameless."

The atmosphere in the Hall of Sword Pinnacles changed. Resting his chin on his hand, Julius regarded Arian.

"You left as you pleased, and now you've returned as you pleased. With some little brat in tow, no less."

"I came because I missed my father. And to show you your grandson."

"Who is your father? I don't recall having a daughter like you."

His words were harsh, but his eyes were no longer as cold as they had been at first.

"I hear Aslan has entered seclusion."

"Yes."

"If you were going to run away from home over something so trivial, why did you marry him?"

"Because I love him."

"You love him, yet you couldn't wait through his seclusion?"

"Sometimes he loves his sword more than me. This time was one of those occasions. I woke up to find a letter by my pillow. Do you know what it said?"

"I do not."

"He'd dreamed of swinging his sword and realized something in the dream. So he wrote that he was going into seclusion. Can you believe it?"

The last time Kyle had asked about his father was three years ago. He wasn't particularly curious about a father he had never met, and, just as back then, he had no wish to needlessly reopen Arian's wounds.

Thus today was the first time he had heard his father's name or learned why Arian had left home.

'What a magnificent bastard.'

He had realized something while dreaming of swinging a sword and immediately gone into seclusion. Kyle felt a fondness for the father whose face he had never seen.

"That is ample reason to enter seclusion."

Julius nodded as he spoke. Arian made a disgusted face, as though she had expected nothing less.

"Do you remember what you told me before I married? You told me to bring my child to Alastor when I had one."

"If the child showed exceptional promise."

"That won't be a problem."

"So it seems."

Julius's eyes shifted to Kyle.

"Your son's name?"

"Kyle Alastor."

"Why Alastor? You left to marry the man of your own choosing."

"You never allowed me to give up the family name."

"Since when have you been so obedient?"

"I think I usually obeyed you."

"Only when it suited you. Just as it does now."

Julius narrowed his eyes.

"I won't fault you for waiting five years to bring him here, or for giving him the Alastor name. He has the makings of someone better suited to bearing Alastor's name than Aslan's."

"Then you mean..."

"None of my children has yet satisfied me enough to inherit my position. Your son, too, belongs to Alastor's main line."

Arian swallowed a sigh of relief. Knowing she had acted as she pleased, she had been prepared for punishment. Unexpectedly, Julius did not press her.

It was because of Kyle. Had Kyle not met Julius's standards, he would never have permitted him to bear the Alastor name.

With the atmosphere much gentler than before, Kyle's attention expanded beyond Julius. At last, he could take a proper look around the Hall of Sword Pinnacles.

Naturally, his eyes went first to the space behind the black iron throne.

An enormous portrait hung there. Hair red as blood, and brilliant golden eyes.

The founder of Alastor.

The Sword Saint, Ruin Alastor.

Kyle quietly studied the face of the man who had killed him in his previous life.

He had held no grudge before, but now he held a small one.

The Sword Demon's sword had been nowhere in the Sword Garden. That was reason enough for a grudge.

'Son of a bi—'

Wait.

Kyle's eyes widened as he looked up at the portrait.

Julius and the portrait had so thoroughly captured his attention that he hadn't noticed it at first. Between the portrait and the black iron throne, a single sword hung on the wall.

'Huh?'

A plain, unadorned shape and a black blade like one long stroke of ink. His heart pounded.

A sword said to have been forged by a dwarf, taken as spoils when he exterminated House Reverto. The sword he had taken as severance pay when he left the Crow Mercenaries, then used constantly for the next eighteen years.

The Sword Demon's beloved blade, which he had wielded even in his battle against Ruin Alastor.

'Fenris.'

Along with his delight came bewilderment. Why was Fenris, which had been nowhere in the Sword Garden, behind the throne in the Hall of Sword Pinnacles, beneath Ruin Alastor's portrait?

"Have you ever given him a weapon?"

"No."

"So you haven't forgotten the house's rules."

"Of course not. What would you have done if I'd broken them?"

"I would have denied him the Alastor name and made certain he could never wield a weapon for the rest of his life."

"Even though he's your grandson?"

"Rules are rules."

Julius and Arian's conversation continued while Kyle gazed at Fenris.

"No descendant of Alastor may take up a weapon without the head of the house's permission. The same applies to beginning mana training."

"I know."

"I consider five too young to judge martial aptitude... but your son is unlike other five-year-olds. Far from avoiding my eyes, he actually smiled."

"Did... he?"

"To think I would see my grandson smile at our very first meeting. A bold child."

"If you like your grandson, why not give him a present?"

Arian ventured the question cautiously as Julius smiled.

"Kyle wants a sword. He's still too young to use a real one, but he'd be delighted if you gave him one in advance for when he's older."

"You misunderstand."

Julius's eyes flashed.

"I said he was unlike ordinary five-year-olds. I also called him bold. But I have not tested his martial aptitude."

"Well..."

"Five is too young. He has never been taught, so his aptitude remains unproven. We will teach him swordsmanship for the next three years and assess his talent. Only then will he hold a real sword."

Alastor was hailed as the continent's foremost martial house. That made it all the more unacceptable for someone unqualified to wield a weapon.

"So if I prove my martial aptitude, I can have a sword?"

Kyle suddenly spoke up.

"And if I'm allowed a sword, will you give me a present too, Grandfather?"

Julius turned his eyes toward his grandson's bold questions. His grandson, barely five years old, was staring straight at him without the slightest hint of intimidation.

"If your abilities satisfy me, I can certainly give you a present."

Julius answered with a chuckle.

"Anything?"

"That depends on how well you do."

"Grandfather."

Kyle smiled back.

"I want that sword."

He raised a finger and pointed at Fenris.

"So please test whether I have the talent right now."