The Unyielding Patriarch
Helmont Mansion. Amid the frenzy of preparations for the Sword Festival, Arandel was receiving guests. They weren't the kind he'd hoped for. It was at the request of his wife, Galeniya Helmont, that he met them this once. She'd insisted they could provide major assistance for this year's festival, so here he was.
They were visitors from the Black Hand. To Arandel, who held no interest in the weak, the Black Hand sparked little curiosity. Truth be told, the Black Hand weren't the sort to be dismissed anywhere else. But in Arandel's presence, even a house that lived and breathed by the sword had to bow its head and yield a step. If Arandel deemed you weak, there was no escaping that verdict—especially not before him.
The Black Hand envoy was their eldest son, Phil Blackhand. His bearing screamed nobility, and the straight-backed posture radiated confidence. But Arandel could tell it wasn't pride born of his own strength.
The man accompanying Phil was a head taller, his lips pressed tight as he stood silently beside him. He might have posed as a secretary, but one glance revealed the truth: this man outclassed the Black Hand's heir by far.
"We meet the great Helmont. Lady Galeniya has graciously arranged this audience with the family head."
Phil Blackhand bowed politely. Arandel rested his chin on the armrest, offering no reply. It was a clear signal: I'm busy—get to the point.
Phil cleared his throat awkwardly and pressed on. "Ahem, well, the Black Hand has come because we can offer what you desire, Lord Arandel."
"……."
"Humans cannot fly, Lord Arandel. Nor can they breathe underwater. Without sunlight, they perish."
Arandel had demanded the point, yet here was a rambling preamble, recited like a script. The impulse to cut out his tongue flickered, but Arandel decided to hear the fool out. What grand tale justifies all this fuss?
"No matter how great a knight you are, Lord Arandel, you cannot escape human limits."
"But we are different! A power that transcends human boundaries—that is our proposal to you."
"……."
"Do you know of the Transcendents?"
Phil Blackhand's voice dropped to a whisper, his tongue flicking like a serpent's. "Beings beyond humanity. A race born to rule all others! They offer you their alliance—!"
"Enough."
Arandel cut him off with a sigh. "No interest."
He turned back to reviewing Sword Festival collaborations with vendors and street merchants.
Phil Blackhand froze in terror at that single word. As he stood speechless, lips parching, the taller man finally interjected.
"Lord Arandel, have you ever questioned the Helmont physique?"
"……."
"The Helmont are blessed with superhuman prowess—bodies unfit for the human label."
"……."
"Transcendents are the same. No—the true ones among them could crush a Helmont body with ease."
His eyes betrayed no lie. There were indeed Transcendents who surpassed even the Helmont.
"We believe the Helmont are closer to Transcendents than humans."
"……."
"Don't you find it primitive? Wielding such power yet playing at nobility, lording over others? To us, they're all the same."
"Ants. That's what they are—queen, soldier, worker. All identical vermin, crumbling underfoot."
"So join us, Lord Arandel. Seize true freedom—!"
Arandel rose slowly and glanced out the window. Helmont knights and Sharen's carriage were approaching. Preparations were needed.
His eyes fell on the greatswords lined up beside the office. He gripped the most worn and battered one, striding forward.
Crunch.
The man realized Arandel was no longer listening. Baring his teeth, he blocked the door and snarled.
"You don't understand yet."
Crunch! Cruuunch!
Grotesque horns sprouted from his head. His skin blackened, eyes turning blood-red. Small wings unfurled from his back—a demonic sight.
"Our greatness—!"
The words died. His head had already hit the floor.
Thud.
Not even a proper last breath for the Transcendent.
Phil Blackhand, who'd watched like a bystander, took three seconds to register the swing and the death.
"H-heek!"
Each step from the man made the mansion tremble. Phil couldn't even track the sword.
Yet amid his shivering, understanding dawned. That's why they obsessed over Arandel!
Bribing Galeniya Helmont for this forced meeting—it all made sense now. Superior to Helmont flesh? Humans mere ants? Then why...?
No need to court Arandel, you idiots!
He got it at last. For all their boasts of superiority, they feared Arandel. They wanted him on their side at any cost.
And he realized this only now—as his fate sealed, life hanging by a thread.
At least, like the first strike, he never saw the second coming.
How do I survive? What do I say?
Even as his head rolled free, he pondered survival. Kneel first!
Clunk!
"Father!"
Lianna burst through the door, eyes locking on the two corpses first. Necks cleanly severed, blood pooling. Her father stood impassive atop it.
But Arandel spared them no glance, greeting her instead. Blood dripped from his weathered greatsword.
"You're here, daughter."
"……Father."
"You've steeled yourself to draw your sword."
It was no surprise. Lianna nodded faintly, unwinding the white bandages wrapping Rag Nabell—her sheath.
They fell away completely.
"Don't say you'll take your punishment gladly."
Arandel warned calmly. "You could die."
* * *
BOOM!RUMBLE!
The mansion shook with violent crashes. Roengreen, busy with festival prep, rushed inside.
"Wh-what is this?!"
He'd been patrolling to clear markets and secure roads. Now chaos from the mansion?
Even the rose garden quaked. Family gathered at the entrance: crippled Alois, worried Galeniya foremost.
"Mother, what's happening?!"
"Roengreen."
Galeniya greeted him gravely, concern etched deep.
"Lianna's returned……."
"Ah."
Explanation enough. She'd snuck to the front lines; now Father was reprimanding her.
CLANG!BOOM!
Greatswords clashed like thunder. Crimson Red Aura flared through windows—dire straits.
What the hell...
He knew Lianna was strong from their duel before she left. He'd trained harder, but could he cross swords with Father like that?
Sensing his doubt, Galeniya took his hand gently.
"Don't worry."
"Mother……!"
"You must stand tall. As future family head."
"……You're right, Mother."
Roengreen resolved himself. What good crumbling here?
As resolve hardened—BOOM!—Arandel Helmont exploded through the shattered doors, gripping Lianna's throat like a lion with prey. Her hair matted with blood and sweat, she hung limp, unconscious.
Thud!
"Lay her down. Tell her to stay confined until I allow otherwise."
With that, he vanished inside. His greatsword's edge was chipped beyond use—proof of her fierce resistance.
* * *
Treated and laid in her bed, Lianna inhaled the familiar rose scent, eyes closing in a daze. Banned outside until Father permitted.
Good thing I broke Alois's leg first, she thought.
Creeeak.
Her mother, Galeniya Helmont, entered.
"……."
Lianna feigned sleep, but Galeniya smiled and stood by the bed.
"Why do that to Alois?"
"……."
"He's a good boy. Worried only about you while the mage healed him."
"……."
"Well, fine. No answer? That's okay too."
Knowing she was awake, Galeniya stroked her hair with a soft smile.
"Don't hate him too much. We're family."
"……."
"My beloved daughter, love your family."
Her warm smile brushed Lianna's cheek.
"You must become family head."