In the center of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles, a five-year-old boy and an eight-year-old girl stood facing each other.

'A half-Demon, huh.'

People in this age seemed reasonably accepting of them, living together in harmony. But during the Dark Age five hundred years ago, Demons had been nothing more than foreign invaders from another continent.

He had fought Demons several times as the Sword Demon. An obnoxious race that never stopped calling humans an “inferior species.”

Demons were superior to humans in many ways, so there was some truth to it. If not for their race's unique drawback, they would have overrun the continent long ago.

'I've never faced a half-Demon before, so I don't really know what to expect.'

Even their bodies far surpassed those of humans, but the Demons' greatest racial advantage was their affinity for mana. A human had to spend well over a decade at the very least swinging a sword and working their ass off just to sense mana. Demons could sense it from the moment they were born.

'Since she was told not to use mana, she must already know how.'

An eight-year-old already using mana. That was how vast the gap between their races was. Kyle stared at Lucia as he considered this.

It might have been different if they were older, but at five and eight, there was a considerable difference in their builds alone. Besides, Kyle had spent all his time playing house with Arian at Rose Manor, while Lucia had already been living in Gladiheim and apparently studying swordsmanship for a year.

'Demons are physically superior to humans.'

Kyle quickly assessed his chances. If he met her sword head-on, he wouldn't last even a single exchange.

“...”

Kyle sensed a trace of anger in Lucia's glare. Apparently, what he had said earlier had bruised the little girl's pride quite badly.

“Hi.”

Not that he cared. Kyle grinned and greeted her first. Come to think of it, he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

“I'm Kyle. Kyle Alastor.”

“... I'm Lucia.”

“Hi, Lucia. Let's have a good match.”

“Yes. A good match.”

Lucia replied stiffly and took her stance.

She stood upright, the elbow of her sword arm tucked against her side, the tip aimed at her opponent as she waited for an opening. It was a solid stance, particularly suited to opening with a thrust. Kyle's eyes moved quickly.

'You can tell she's had training.'

After that private appraisal, Kyle took his own stance.

He didn't raise his wooden sword. Instead, he relaxed completely and let it hang diagonally downward. He spread his feet wide and let his upper body droop, releasing the tension from his chest, shoulders, and both arms.

More than half the wooden sword, which was as long as Kyle's torso, rested against the floor. Anxiety crept into Arian's eyes at the sight. From the outside, it looked as though Kyle had ended up in that posture because he couldn't bear the sword's weight.

She was half right. It might be a wooden training sword for children, but it was still far too much for a five-year-old to handle.

“...”

Unlike the anxiety in Arian's eyes, a different emotion showed in Julius's and Cartan's. A five-year-old lacked the strength to maintain a proper stance for long. Forcing himself to imitate one would only exhaust him quickly and stiffen his body.

His stance might look pathetic, but Kyle's hand held the wooden sword firmly. There wasn't a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he studied Lucia.

Still, it was far too early to read anything into it. If the outcome was miserable, that stance would mean nothing. Julius, who had been watching the two in silence, spoke.

“Begin.”

The quiet command fell. Lucia sprang into motion first. As the head of the house had ordered, she had no intention of holding back.

Just as Kyle had guessed, Lucia's movements far exceeded those of an eight-year-old girl. She pushed off the floor as fast as a grown man, closing the distance in an instant and thrusting her wooden sword at Kyle's solar plexus.

'She's fast.'

Kyle's eyes read the sword's trajectory, but his undeveloped five-year-old body couldn't execute the counter he wanted. Rather than stubbornly insist, he chose the best move this body could manage.

His relaxed upper body swayed.

SWISH!

He dodged just before the attack reached him. Lucia's eyes widened.

It had never occurred to her that Kyle might evade that thrust. He might be an Alastor pureblood, but he was still a small child who had never properly trained.

Lucia hastily tried to pull her wooden sword back, but Kyle's left arm moved before she could. He clamped the sword between his arm and his side, then grinned at her.

“...!”

Lucia's eyebrow twitched. Her sword had been caught, but with her strength, wrenching it free would be easy. She could even move it from here and injure Kyle.

But she didn't. She glared at him, biting her lip in humiliation. The opening attack she had been certain would win had been dodged and caught with such ease. It trampled the girl's pride.

After studying her expression for a moment, Kyle released her sword. There were any number of ways to end this, but he didn't want to squander his first chance to wield a sword in five whole years. He hadn't even properly swung it yet.

Lucia stepped back a few paces and took her stance again. Had she been too eager to finish? Deciding that was her mistake, she attacked once more.

This time, she didn't thrust. She strode forward and swung her wooden sword. Once again, Kyle avoided meeting it head-on, swaying loosely out of its path.

This repeated several times. As one attack after another struck nothing, uncertainty flickered in Lucia's eyes.

Genius or not, she was only eight. Being unable to control an opponent younger and smaller than herself put her under mental strain. Worse, this was the Hall of Sword Pinnacles, and the head of the house himself was watching their match.

Lucia's breathing began to quicken. Her precise attacks grew disordered. Her movements became larger, her wooden sword unsteady. That meant she was using far more force than necessary, and such attacks were easy to throw off.

People often spoke of using a little strength to overcome a greater force, but putting that into practice in combat was difficult. There were too many requirements: greater precision than one's opponent, a solid center of balance, the ability to read them accurately or lure them into leaving an opening.

Now the match had unfolded exactly as Kyle wanted. Lucia raised her wooden sword high and brought it down toward his head. It was an utterly reckless attack, broad and full of openings.

Kyle's wooden sword, which had been hanging low, moved. He abruptly lifted it into the descending blade's path.

CLACK-SCRAPE!

Lucia's sword slid all the way down along his angled blade.

“...!”

Lucia's eyes wavered wildly. She tried to steady her body as it lurched after her sword, but before she could, Kyle tilted his blade farther. His wooden sword came to rest against her shoulder.

“Ah...”

Lucia's mouth fell open. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before she furrowed her brows and forced out the words.

“I lo—”

“You can still keep going.”

All that movement had left Kyle breathless, with beads of sweat on his forehead, but his golden eyes held nothing but enjoyment, without a trace of fatigue.

“Let's go a little longer.”

Kyle whispered the words. Bewildered, Lucia looked at him, then turned toward Julius.

Cartan and Arian looked horrified, and Julius's eyes were wide as well. Then Julius slowly nodded, permitting the match to resume.

Biting her lip, Lucia retreated a few steps and began attacking again.

This time, she didn't rush in either. She began by carefully closing the distance, trying to pressure Kyle with quick, precise strikes rather than large, heavy attacks.

Since he had completely dismantled her previous approach, it was indeed time to change tactics. But against Kyle, it was meaningless. How precise could an eight-year-old's attacks possibly be? He had seen through every one of her intentions, so even her fast attacks couldn't touch him.

'Stamina is the problem.'

Dodge, deflect. As he repeated those motions, he became desperately short of breath. He wasn't disappointed, though.

At five in his previous life, even moving like this had been impossible. It was a delight to have a body that moved so well before he had even begun proper training. This body seemed blessed in all sorts of ways.

But it had its limits, so it seemed he would have to end this enjoyable fight now. Kyle let his labored breathing show and allowed his stance to crumble. He left openings in his evasions and let his knees buckle as he retreated.

Lucia had greater stamina than Kyle. She could keep fighting like this for much longer. So long as she didn't grow impatient, she wouldn't even become short of breath.

But under the circumstances, she couldn't help being impatient. By her own reckoning, she had already lost twice. Her first thrust had been caught, and the second time, her sword had been deflected and his blade had touched her shoulder.

To make up for those defeats, she needed a decisive victory. The girl's stubbornness narrowed her vision. All she saw now was a boy staggering and gasping for breath, his strength spent.

At last, she spotted the instant his retreating feet tangled, threatening to send him tumbling. She had won. Lucia seized the opening and thrust her wooden sword.

At that instant, Kyle's body twisted out of its seemingly helpless stumble. Putting his whole body into the swing, he sent his wooden sword toward Lucia's side.

Lucia's sword failed to strike him, but his hit her flank.

THWACK!

The dull sound and the sensation through his palm left no doubt.

'I think I hit her too hard.'

Victory had been a given, hardly anything to celebrate. Kyle looked at Lucia with that thought in mind. The attack had been far too brutal to use against an eight-year-old. An ordinary child would have suffered a broken rib or two.

“...”

Lucia looked unharmed. She was no ordinary child. A half-Demon who could even wield mana, she hadn't suffered the slightest damage to her bones from that blow.

But unbroken bones didn't mean unhurt feelings. Lucia stared down wide-eyed at the wooden sword against her side. Soon, tears welled in her eyes.

“Ah... Uh... Uuh...”

Despite being born a half-Demon, she had proven her genius and earned a place in Gladiheim, where she learned swordsmanship from the elders. Yet she had lost to a boy three years younger who had never learned the sword. And the match had been so overwhelmingly one-sided that there was no room for argument.

Her crushed pride welled up in tears. But Lucia tilted her head back to keep them from falling and lowered her wooden sword.

“I... I l-lost...”

The words stumbled out in a tearful voice. Seeing her like that, he couldn't possibly ask to keep fighting.

'Not that I have the strength left.'

His whole body felt heavy and sore. Without question, he would be plagued by aching muscles for the next few days. Especially his sword hand. Kyle rubbed the wooden sword's grip. Sweat wasn't the only reason it felt damp. His palm stung as though he had been squeezing thorny vines. The skin must have been rubbed raw and split all over.

“...”

What should he say? The sight of Lucia desperately holding back her tears brought Kyle's thoughts to an abrupt halt.

Well fought? That sounded far too much like mockery. Thank you for your efforts? Wasn't that too grown-up for a child? Thank you for your hard work? How was that any different?

“Th... Thank you.”

Remaining silent after she had conceded seemed rude, so Kyle settled for that. He genuinely was grateful. Fighting Lucia had been quite fun. At his age, opponents of her caliber would be rare.

“Uuh...”

Kyle had put real thought into those words, but Lucia apparently hadn't taken them that way. Clenching her fists, she quickly bowed her head. One after another, the girl's tears fell to the floor of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles.

“Good heavens...”

Cartan muttered in astonishment. He knew how gifted Lucia was. Not one of his sons, nieces, or nephews had wielded a sword that well at her age.

Yet she had lost. Even with mana forbidden, her physical advantage remained, but the match had been utterly one-sided. Casting incredulous glances at Kyle, Cartan whispered to Arian.

“Your son... Are you certain he has never learned swordsmanship?”

“I'll swear it on the spirits.”

Arian, who had been standing with her mouth hanging open, hastily composed herself and laid a hand over her chest.

“I, Arian Alastor, have never once permitted my son, Kyle Alastor, to learn the sword. I swear that today, here in this hall, is the first time my son Kyle has ever held one.”

Cartan's eyes widened further at her oath. He had never held a sword in his life, yet he could fight like that? A mere five-year-old? There was only one thing that could make this absurdity possible.

'A genius...'

Cartan swallowed hard and looked at his father, Julius. He was genuinely curious how his father would react after witnessing such preposterous genius. He also wondered why this match had suddenly been arranged in the first place.

“You won.”

“Yes, I won.”

Kyle answered as he steadied his breathing.

“You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

A promise.

Cartan tilted his head. Come to think of it, he had heard mention of a “promise” earlier, too.

“I said I would consider it depending on how you won.”

“I think I won pretty well.”

“Indeed.”

Julius's mouth, which had stiffened in surprise, softened. With a gentle smile, he took hold of Fenris, hanging beneath the portrait.

“Take it.”

Fenris was planted in the floor of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles. Cartan's jaw dropped at the sight.

“M-my lord! Surely you don't mean to give Fenris to that child?”

“That is what I promised.”

“B-but Fenris is...!”

“Merely a sword.”

Julius chuckled.

“Why has no one faced that simple fact for five hundred years?”

Kyle slowly approached Fenris.

The beloved sword he had wielded five hundred years ago.

It looked no different from the last time he had seen it. A practical shape, without any ostentatious ornamentation.

For a sword, practical meant a shape optimized for stabbing and cutting.

That pitch-black blade, like a line drawn in ink, never chipped or grew coated in grease, even after cutting down dozens or hundreds. For eighteen years, he had subjected Fenris to all manner of rough treatment, yet it had never once betrayed the expectations of Raikal, the Sword Demon.

When he needed to pierce something, it pierced. When he needed to cleave something, it cleaved. There had been many times when Raikal's own shortcomings had forced him to retreat in defeat, but he had always taken his revenge afterward.

With one exception.

His defeat at the hands of Ruin Alastor.

'Fenris... '

Who could have imagined he would reunite like this with his beloved sword from five hundred years ago? Kyle approached, his heart fluttering as though he had unexpectedly run into his first love.

His heart pounded, beat after beat...

...

Something was strange. His first sparring match since reincarnating had left him exhausted in body and mind, and excited. Add his reunion with Fenris, and of course his heart would be pounding.

But it seemed to be beating far too fast. Kyle laid a hand over his wildly hammering heart. Nor was that all: warmth spread through his lower abdomen, followed by an ache, while his whole body tingled.

At the same time, something like pitch-black mist flowed from Fenris, planted in the center of the Hall of Sword Pinnacles.

“...?”

A pitch-black wolf stood barring Kyle's path.