Her son's audacious words left Arian deeply flustered. Wide-eyed, she looked back and forth between him and the sword hanging beneath the founder's portrait.

"K-Kyle?"

Arian called her son's name cautiously, but Kyle's eyes never left Julius.

Kyle had been different from other children since infancy. The servants all said so, and Arian herself had sensed how special her son was.

He almost never displayed a child's characteristic greed or stubborn insistence on having something. The only thing he ever pestered her for was a sword.

Being unable to grant her son's request because of the house's rules had always weighed on Arian. Now that they had returned to Gladiheim, she wanted to find some way to give him what he wanted, but...

"Kyle, that one... You can't have that."

Even Arian was not permitted to touch that sword. Looking apologetic, she crouched to meet Kyle's eyes.

"You heard what Grandfather just said, didn't you? You'll get a sword later. Not that one, but a much finer—"

"I like that sword."

Kyle would not have been stubborn about anything else, but he could not back down on this. Just as Arian, looking troubled, was about to say more...

"Why do you like this sword?" Julius asked.

That sword, Fenris, had been Kyle's constant weapon in his previous life as Raikal. Without exaggeration, it had accompanied him for half his life. Before Fenris, he had used all sorts of swords, but after acquiring it, he had never taken up another.

Raikal had not earned the epithet Sword Demon because Fenris possessed some extraordinary power, but it had been with him throughout his prime. Even now, Kyle could have recited the countless battlefields and battles he had shared with Fenris.

"I just do."

But rambling about those memories would surely get him treated like a lunatic, so that was the answer Kyle gave.

Five was an age when he was allowed to be this unreasonably stubborn.

"You just do. Just because..."

Julius stroked his chin and turned his head.

Beneath the portrait of the great and revered founder, Ruin Alastor. Directly behind the black-iron throne where only the head of the house could sit. There hung the sword, slightly higher than the throne.

"You must have seen many other swords on your way into Gladiheim," Julius began.

"They weren't all swords, though."

"Their forms differ, but their purpose is the same. So is the meaning of their placement there."

"The swords on the Road of Vanquished Swords were neglected. Most were rusty and broken. They weren't pleasant to look at."

"Because they belonged to common losers, unworthy of remembrance."

"The swords in the Sword Garden were well cared for. They were so beautiful I understood why the place had that name. There are lots of flowers at the mansion where I live, but I've never seen a garden as beautiful as the Sword Garden."

Julius smiled at his grandson's answer.

"Those are truly worth remembering. Every vassal of House Alastor hopes to leave their weapon in the Sword Garden. The enemies cut down by Alastor would wish the same."

"Wouldn't the enemies have wished to win?"

"That is a wish that cannot come true. In any case, the victors write the records, and the victors pass judgment."

Julius did not scold his grandson for rudely answering him at every turn. Having reigned as the head of House Alastor for decades, an object of awe, he actually found this conversation enjoyable.

"Gladiheim has three grave markers for swords. The Road of Vanquished Swords, the Sword Garden, and the Sword Tomb beneath the Sword Tower. The swords of every past head of the house, except the founder, are enshrined in the Sword Tomb."

Julius rose from his throne.

"Why isn't the founder's sword there?"

"Because he broke his own sword late in his life."

Julius glanced at Arian.

"Have you not even taught him our house's history properly?"

"Ahem... I thought you would teach him better than I could, Father."

"Do I, the head of House Alastor, look so idle that I can spare time for a mere five-year-old grandson?"

Arian shrank back at his icy voice, but inwardly she thought,

'You say that, but you've been talking to Kyle quite a lot.'

The father Arian remembered had not been this kind. Since her childhood—no, since the birth of his eldest son, Cartan—Julius had been a cold father.

Perhaps there had been some warmth within that chill, but the authority of the head of the house towered too high for her to discern it. Only now that she was older could Arian speak somewhat comfortably with her father. As a child, she had feared him.

Had the passing years blunted his sharpness and warmed his coldness?

No. That could not be. Her father, Julius Alastor, was the very embodiment of the house motto: the strong reign supreme.

"Why did the founder break his sword?"

Kyle did not shrink in the slightest beneath the gaze that even Julius's own children could scarcely meet. Instead, his eyes sparkled with innocence as he continued asking questions, treating Julius as though he truly were simply his grandfather.

"Because there was no one left for him to wield it against."

To Arian, Julius's gentle smile looked—impossible though it seemed—just like that of an ordinary grandfather.

"There is no need for a sword when there is no one to wield it against. Those were the founder's words. Not long afterward, he ascended."

"Ascended..."

"This sword is called Fenris."

Julius turned to gaze at the sword hanging beneath the portrait.

"After breaking his own sword, the founder kept Fenris at his side until his ascension. Though he never wielded it himself."

"..."

"Five hundred years ago, there was a man called Raikal, the Sword Demon."

Kyle gulped, his mouth dry, and listened intently to Julius.

"There are numerous records of him. An utter scoundrel, by all accounts."

"..."

"The founder of the Crow Mercenaries, the predecessor of the Crow Fleet that terrorizes the western frontier to this day. The father of the Crows. And the Sword Cult, which has caused so much trouble across the continent and clashed with Alastor, was formed by followers of the Sword Demon."

"Oh..."

An exclamation escaped Kyle's lips before he realized it.

"The Sword Demon ran rampant during the Dark Age five hundred years ago, but he challenged the founder and died in defeat. Fenris was his cherished sword."

"Why is the Sword Demon's cherished sword displayed beneath the founder's portrait?"

"Because it is the only sword the founder kept in remembrance."

At those words, the corners of Kyle's mouth began twitching of their own accord.

"The founder fought countless battles to end the Dark Age. Yet Fenris alone was kept within his reach as a remembrance."

"Was the Sword Demon that strong?"

"There were surely others stronger than the Sword Demon during the Dark Age. The founder himself could not settle his battle with the Demon King, and he said his fight with the Dragon King was no fight at all."

Well, that was fair enough. Kyle felt no disappointment. He had experienced the vastness of the world firsthand as Raikal, and he had suffered plenty of defeats.

"But he left word that his battle with the Sword Demon was the one he enjoyed most."

"The battle he enjoyed..."

"A fight purely to match swords, without a thought for the glory of victory or the loss of defeat. That is why Fenris is here."

"..."

"I cannot give you Fenris."

"Now I want it even more."

"No past head of the house has ever taken Fenris as a weapon. It holds the founder's memories, and it drank so much blood long ago that it is steeped in killing intent. It is not a sword you can handle."

"But swords aren't ornaments."

Julius paused at that and turned to Kyle.

"A sword is a weapon you hold in your hands and swing to cut and thrust."

"You presume to lecture me on swords? A boy who has never even held one?"

"I've never held a sword, but I know what one is. I'm looking at one right now."

Kyle gazed at Fenris, his eyes smiling.

"That sword wasn't made as an ornament, and it doesn't look as though it was ever used as one."

"..."

"Why haven't you used Fenris, Grandfather?"

"Because I have my own sword."

"I don't have a sword of my own," Kyle said with a bright little smile. "So please give it to me."

"Did I not tell you it is steeped in killing intent? Fenris is a demonic sword."

"I'll be fine."

"Good heavens..."

Julius shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle.

"To think I would be asked for Fenris. And by a five-year-old grandson whose martial aptitude has not even been assessed."

"But once it's assessed, I'm allowed to hold a sword, aren't I?"

"That is correct."

"Then assess me now."

Had anyone ever made such a demand of him in his life? Julius gazed silently at Kyle before speaking.

"Cartan."

"Yes."

The doors of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles opened, and Cartan, who had been waiting in the corridor, entered.

"Bring Lucia. And two wooden swords for children."

"Pardon? Yes, understood."

Cartan looked briefly taken aback, but soon nodded and withdrew.

"Lucia? Who is Lucia?" asked Arian, who had been fidgeting anxiously throughout the exchange between grandfather and grandson. She had lived in the Sword Tower until six years ago, but she had never heard that name.

"A child I took in around the time you married and left."

"You... took her in?"

"I found her abandoned on the northern coast."

"Wait... Just a moment," Arian said in shock. "You're keeping a child like that in the Sword Tower?"

She could hardly be anything but shocked. The Sword Tower was the highest place in Gladiheim. Aside from the workers, its residents were the head of the house and his direct descendants, the Funeral Knights—Alastor's finest—and elders who had retired from active service.

Gladiheim was vast. There were countless places besides the Sword Tower to raise an abandoned child. Arian simply could not understand why a child of unknown origin was living in the tower of all places.

"Because she has an abundance of talent," Julius said.

"It is true that pure blood is sacred and noble, but what Alastor values is strength. Lucia possesses talent that makes her future strength inevitable. That is why she lives in the Sword Tower, where the elders nurture her abilities."

"The elders teach her personally...?"

"If her growth continues as it has, Lucia will become a Funeral Knight."

For a moment, a hint of regret crossed Julius's eyes.

"Though we cannot mingle our blood with hers."

The doors of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles opened again.

They could not mingle their blood with hers. Arian immediately understood what those words meant. She covered her mouth in shock as she looked at the girl Cartan brought inside.

Pale skin and white hair. Eyes as red as blood.

A single horn growing from the left side of her head.

"A... a Demon?"

"A half Demon, apparently," Julius said.

A child of mixed Demon blood, something said to be exceedingly rare. Entering alongside Cartan, Lucia bowed her head to Julius.

"I was told you summoned me."

Her speech was far more courteous than one would expect of a child. Stopping Cartan as he made to leave the hall again, Julius spoke.

"Lucia. How old are you?"

"Eight years old."

"There you have it. Will that be all right?"

Julius looked at Kyle.

"Lucia began learning the sword a year ahead of you. Thanks to her Demon nature, she has already begun training in mana as well."

Cartan immediately grasped the situation from their exchange. He looked between the two small wooden swords in his hands and Kyle, then asked Julius in a low voice,

"My lord. Surely... you do not intend to have Kyle fight Lucia?"

"If the boy wishes it."

"What... My lord, has Kyle not yet to begin learning the sword? And Lucia is..."

"The decision is not mine. Nor is it yours."

Cartan said no more. Instead, he turned a worried gaze on Kyle.

His five-year-old nephew was beaming.

"If I win, will you grant my request?"

"I will consider it, depending on how you win."

"You promise?"

"Surely you do not think I would go back on my word over something like this," Julius said with a chuckle.

Only then did Kyle move. He trotted over to Cartan and held out both hands.

"Please."

Looking baffled, Cartan handed him a wooden sword.

'Ah...'

It was only a child's wooden practice sword, but this was the first proper sword he had held since his reincarnation. Kyle shivered with exhilaration at the way it nestled into his hand.

The wooden sword was a little large for a five-year-old body, but that posed no problem. Kyle swung it once from top to bottom, then once to the side.

Arian's eyes wavered as his body tilted slightly with each swing. She had no doubt her son was a genius, but she was not yet certain that genius extended to martial aptitude.

"Lucia."

Lucia looked up as she accepted her wooden sword from Cartan.

"Yes, my lord."

"Do your utmost, but do not use mana."

"He'll get hurt."

"That does not matter," Julius answered.

"Don't worry," Kyle said with a smile.

"...?"

Lucia turned to him with a frown.

"I won't get hurt."

With a sword in his hand, he understood once again.

I was born to hold a sword.