Sunlight in the Gutter
Knighted directly by the Duke of Evergreen.
Arivalt spoke of the honor with undisguised pride, and it was pride well-earned. A knight was never merely a knight; their pedigree and standing were dictated by whose hand had bestowed the title. Inheriting a petty estate from some backwater provincial lineage could never compare to being dubbed by a magnate of the realm. And Duke Evergreen was a figure whose power ranked him among the handful of men who truly held the Empire in their palms.
"I—it is an honor to meet you, Sir Knight. My name is Reed."
Reed ducked his head in an awkward bow. Meeting someone of such exalted status certainly set his nerves on edge, but what truly churned in his stomach was the memory of the outrage he had committed just moments before. I hurled three Crystal Bombs right at his face without asking a single question…
Even the gentlest saint would have flown into a rage after enduring an ambush like that. If the man drew his greatsword and struck him down where he stood, Reed would hardly have had the right to complain.
Arivalt seemed to recall the encounter as well, offering a wry, self-deprecating smile. Reed bowed again, pressing lower.
"About what happened earlier… I am truly, deeply sorry. If I may offer an excuse, I believed the gang gathered here had come to kill me—"
"Say no more," Arivalt said, waving a hand. "I share the blame for provoking your suspicion. Though I must confess, it has been quite some time since a mage slipped through my fingers like that. To possess such talent at your age… remarkable."
"I can only offer my apologies again, Sir Knight…"
Hearing the knight's amicable tone, Reed breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As he straightened, he stole a subtle glance over Arivalt's frame. Apologies aside, curiosity was human nature, and he could not help wanting to see the outcome of his own spellcraft.
Yet Arivalt stood entirely unblemished. Not a cut, not a bruise, not a fray on his garments.
I detonated three Crystal Bombs in his face, and he walked away without a scratch?
Had the knight dodged every last crystalline shard, or had he simply tanked the blasts head-on? Whichever the truth, his martial prowess bordered on the monstrous. The world was vast, and the strong walked under many guises. Reed swallowed a fresh dose of humility. Here I was, taking pride in how far I'd come, but I still have leagues left to climb.
Arivalt cast his gaze across the alleyway.
"Are you lot going to stand there gawking all day?"
The surviving thugs stood frozen, blinking dumbly. Every single face was drained of color, etched with pure terror. Anyone who had just witnessed a dozen comrades decapitated in a single, silent breath would have worn the exact same expression.
"If you wish to test your mettle, step forward," Arivalt offered smoothly.
The remaining ruffians exchanged frantic glances, then scattered in every direction like baby spiders escaping a crushed nest. Die to protect their turf? If they possessed that kind of spine, they would have enlisted in the army rather than wallowing as street hoodlums.
Once the alley had emptied, Arivalt placed a hand over his chest and bowed deeply.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Arivalt Dane, sworn sword to House Evergreen. On behalf of our ducal house, I offer you my profound gratitude, Benefactor."
Reed flinched at the courteous register and stately posture. Being treated with such deference by an elder who vastly outranked him felt intensely uncomfortable—doubly so when the elder in question was a human butcher who could cleave through a dozen necks as easily as stalks of wheat.
"S-Sir Arivalt, please, you don't need to do this."
"You saved the life of Lady Emilia," Arivalt insisted gravely. "You are entitled to every measure of this respect."
"It is making me terribly uneasy, Sir Knight. Truly. Please, speak to me as you would to anyone else."
"If that is your wish, my young friend."
Straightening his back, Arivalt cast a frigid glance down at Hashid's sprawled corpse.
"Not only did you save the young lady, but you also avenged her honor by taking down this dog. You have my thanks. In truth, that was a duty I should have carried out myself."
"Not at all. I was only fighting for my own survival. Still… I'm glad the brat—er, the young lady made it back safely. It must have been terrifying for her."
"The fault lies entirely with my own negligence," Arivalt sighed, shaking his head. "Who could have anticipated she would scale the estate wall unassisted just to take a stroll through the common streets…?"
Reed offered a wry chuckle as an image of Emilia leaping over a stone wall in an elaborate frilled gown surfaced in his mind. She's quite the tomboy, isn't she?
Arivalt shook his head again, looking exhausted at the mere recollection.
"While her spirited nature is a blessing, I do wish she would exercise a modicum of restraint… At any rate! I have no intention of settling our debt with empty words. Repaying kindness and retribution in equal measure is the core creed of House Evergreen."
"No, really, you don't have to. I didn't help her expecting a reward."
"…Your face tells an entirely different story, my boy."
Reed winced. It was true; he had only offered the customary polite refusal. Snapping up a reward too greedily risked ruffling the knight's feathers, and who knew what trouble that might bring?
"You preserved the life of a direct scion of House Evergreen," Arivalt continued. "A mountain of gold could scarcely balance that scales of debt. Should you wish it, you may enter the service of House Evergreen. You mentioned you are a mage? Though ours is a martial family, we will extend every resource at our disposal. We can secure you an esteemed master, or even grant you a direct recommendation to the Capital Magic University. In time, you could become a sworn vassal of Evergreen, take an honorable surname, and establish a noble house of your own!"
Becoming a vassal of the Ducal House of Evergreen.
It was an opportunity beyond ordinary reach. Wealth, prestigious tutelage, aristocratic connections, and political authority—entering Evergreen's fold meant inheriting every one of those privileges as a matter of course.
And above all, the magic university!
Reed closed his eyes, savoring the intoxicating resonance of the word university. Perhaps this was his golden chance, the doorway to the dream he had harbored for two lifetimes…
Arivalt watched him with an expectant smile, confident that the youth would jump at the offer with tearful gratitude. No one of sound mind could fail to see the brilliance of such a windfall.
Yet Reed held his tongue, his brow knit in thought.
The sweeter the opportunity, the sharper the hook beneath.
Looking back across both his lives, misfortune had always outweighed good fortune. And all too often, tragedy arrived wearing the polished mask of luck. When his parents had died and a distant relative took him in, the young Reed had breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had narrowly dodged an orphanage. What had awaited him instead was the backbreaking, thankless drudgery of a domestic slave.
From that day forth, he had learned to question everything.
Tying himself to a ducal house was a choice that would reshape his entire destiny. Accepting it on the spot without scrutinizing the hidden cost would be the height of folly.
"Sir Arivalt," Reed began carefully. "Hearing your words, I know this is an extraordinary opportunity. First, allow me to thank you for offering it."
Arivalt arched an eyebrow. "And?"
"You were kind enough to address me as your benefactor. In that spirit, I wish to ask a question as that benefactor. Setting aside the interests of your house… answer me honestly, Sir Knight. Would entering House Evergreen truly be good for me?"
Arivalt's brow twitched.
Impudent!
To dare question an offer to become a vassal of House Evergreen? The boy was audacious beyond measure. His phrasing was craftily calculated, too.
'As your benefactor, I ask you'?
Rescuing the ducal daughter was a service to House Evergreen, but it had also spared Arivalt from disgrace. Had Emilia Evergreen met an untimely end, Arivalt, as her sworn guardian, would have borne the full weight of failure. Reed was his personal benefactor as well. And now that benefactor was invoking that debt to demand unvarnished truth—a request an honorable knight could never brush aside.
Insolent. Unbelievably insolent… yet undeniably sharp.
The knight's fleeting irritation evaporated, replaced by genuine intrigue. Any common youth his age would have accepted without a second thought, weeping tears of joy. Yet this boy was weighing the invisible risks and benefits with cold, calculated restraint.
Arivalt met his gaze. The boy's eyes were dark and steady, evocative of the deep, immovable earth.
'Setting aside the interests of your house…'
Arivalt was a man of Evergreen. In all things, the prosperity of the house came first. Bringing Reed into their fold? It was an excellent prospect. A youth of such raw magical talent, and a combat mage at that, would be an invaluable asset to the family's future ranks. But if he detached the family's gain and weighed the boy's welfare alone…
Arivalt remained silent, his mind turning through the grim realities of the capital. When he met the boy's unblinking brown eyes once more, he found he could not bring himself to lie.
"First, I must swear that the grandeur of the offer was no deception," Arivalt said quietly. "House Evergreen would spare no resource to foster your growth. That, I swear upon my honor as a knight. However…"
"However?"
"…The atmosphere within our house is currently precarious. It is ill-suited to share with outsiders, but the struggle among the prospective heirs has grown fierce."
Even the mighty Duke Evergreen was succumbing to the ravages of age. Though his demise was not imminent, the hour to determine succession was drawing near. The core problem lay in the heirs themselves: they were too evenly matched. Had one risen with overwhelming brilliance, the matter would have been settled smoothly. Instead, possessing comparable martial prowess, intellect, and backing, none intended to concede the seat of family head.
Each direct scion was quietly gathering power, luring vassals to their faction and rallying their maternal lineages to build private armies. It was the classic, bloody script of aristocratic succession, distinguished only by the terrifying scale of House Evergreen. The forces assembling behind each contender were so colossal that whispers across the Empire warned of a looming civil war.
"Well, I doubt matters will deteriorate into an outright civil war," Arivalt muttered. "Nonetheless, the air within our halls is poisoned with suspicion. Should you hone your talents and navigate the court skillfully, you could indeed rise to prominence."
"Or," Reed countered, "as a rolling stone who drifted in from nowhere, I could become an easy target. Or end up ground to dust beneath the wheels of their succession race."
"Hmph… I cannot deny that possibility."
"Furthermore, you said Lady Emilia is also a direct scion of the house, correct?"
Arivalt gave a slow nod. "Though her faction is vastly outmatched, yes, she is."
"To put it plainly, then… to the other heirs, I would be the outsider who saved a rival claimant, stepping into their house without lineage, rank, or noble backing."
"……"
"I would make the perfect target to stomp on, wouldn't I?"
Arivalt's lips sealed shut. In truth, his mind had not stretched that far ahead. To parse the political undertones and foresee the hazards in the span of a few heartbeats…
Is the boy far more cunning than I realized?
It was a calculation born of a lifetime spent reading the shifting moods of those who held power over his life. With his mind made up, Reed offered a polite bow.
"I am deeply grateful for your generous offer, Sir Knight, but I must respectfully decline. To say I wasn't tempted would be a lie… but I rather enjoy my life here in Morasil."
Arivalt clicked his tongue, a trace of regret in his eyes, but nodded in understanding.
"Very well. I accept your decision. However, a debt of honor must be settled."
"In that case, if you could spare a modest purse of coin—"
"Take this."
Arivalt pressed a small, heavy object into Reed's palm. When Reed unfurled his fingers, a silver badge gleamed in the light. Engraved upon its surface was the crest of House Evergreen—a longsword crossed over lush pine boughs.
"A day will come when you require the strength of House Evergreen," Arivalt said, his tone turning solemn. "A moment when death coils about your limbs, and an insurmountable fate tightens around your throat. When that hour arrives, use this. Only once, but House Evergreen shall answer your call."
"……"
When fate tightens around your throat…
It sounded melodramatically grandiose. Yet turned on its head, the declaration meant House Evergreen possessed the sheer power to shatter even such insurmountable fates. It was a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
Reed ran his thumb across the cool silver emblem.
"Trust me, young man. This token will prove far more valuable than a pouch of coin."
"I understand. I will treasure it, Sir Knight. But how do I actually invoke it? Is it an enchanted artifact?"
"Hahaha! When the time is right, simply pin it to your collar. Those who know will recognize it."
Reed scratched his head. It was not even an enchanted item, yet simply wearing it would make people take notice? He felt a prickle of doubt, but chose to accept the gift with gratitude. A knight of his stature wouldn't spin empty tales.
With their business concluded, Arivalt drew a short blade, cleanly severed Hashid's head with a single dull thud, and bound it securely to his belt.
"Now, I must take my leave. I will be staying in Asterritz for the foreseeable future. If your travels ever bring you there, do come visit. The young lady has expressed a keen desire to see your face again."
"Haha… yes. Though I doubt she wants to see me out of sheer fondness."
Reed bowed once more. As he rose, his eyes caught Hashid's lifeless, dangling gaze. A faint shiver ran through him. The menace that had cast a suffocating shadow over his early years had met its end so abruptly.
The assassin's dying curse echoed through the corridors of his memory.
Heh… heheh. Even if you… beat me… you're still just… a rat. Cough! A gutter rat… sifting through filth! You'll live a dog's life… and die in the ditch… just like me!
Once a slave, always a slave? Once a gutter rat, always vermin?
Whenever someone spat such venom in his face, an instinctive, stubborn defiance surged from the marrow of his bones, screaming back: You're dead wrong. In plain terms, he possessed a rebellious streak. And that very streak prompted a sudden, reckless whim.
"Sir Arivalt. May I ask one small favor of you?"
"Oh?"
"You mentioned you would be staying in Asterritz for a while, didn't you?"
The Black Blade Syndicate that once held iron dominion over the slums of Asterritz was no more. Yet the lives of the slum dwellers had not improved in the slightest.
If anything, the rival crews warring to swallow up the newly vacated territory left ordinary folk bleeding in the crossfire. And in conflicts like these, it was always the children who perished first—nameless orphans whose deaths drew neither pity nor tears from the world.
Hah. One pile of filth clears out, and another crawls in to take its place.
Lanky, the leader of the homeless youth collective known as the 'Rats', let out a cynical scoff. Lanky possessed no proper name. Whoever might have given him one had perished long ago. Left to fend for himself, his youth had been a relentless war—a desperate, daily struggle where a stale crust of bread or a chipped copper coin had to be bought with blood.
Against all odds, Lanky had survived to the age of sixteen. By the standards of the gutter, he was now an adult.
Yet there was no glimmer of hope in his world. Not once did he believe tomorrow would bring better fortunes. What did reaching adulthood even mean in a place like this? He would end up as sword-fodder in some petty gang war, or have his hand chopped off while picking pockets, only to rot in a ditch like all the rest. His existence lacked purpose. If there was any small satisfaction in his days, it lay solely in shielding the younger orphans who shared his plight.
Nothing ever changes.
No matter who reigned over the alleyways, the reality of the slums remained unaltered. Surviving today only meant bracing for a more agonizing tomorrow. The slums were a quagmire. The moment a child was born into this filth, escape became an impossibility. They could only sink, slowly and inevitably, into the black depths below.
There was no hope for children like them…
Or so he had believed.
Until the day a lone man walked into the slums. At his hip hung an impossibly long greatsword, and around him drifted an aura of cold, lethal authority. Word had spread that this very man had severed the head of Hashid the Black Blade and displayed it atop the city gate.
The newcomer tore through the warring factions without pause. His blade knew neither hesitation nor mercy. Over the course of a single night, his relentless harvest left every criminal in the district trembling in the dark.
Even after that night, the man returned periodically to cleanse any crew that offended his sight. He did not butcher every hoodlum—such a task was impossible. Instead, he struck down only those who crossed a specific line: dealing in illicit narcotics, abducting women, or extorting helpless children.
The boundaries he set carved a new order into the lawless mud.
Suddenly, Lanky and the orphans found themselves free. They no longer had to surrender the coppers they begged for to callous racketeers. They no longer had to risk their lives running illicit errands for cutthroats. Lanky could hardly believe his eyes, nor could he fathom why such a mighty warrior would trouble himself with gutter vermin.
On the day their paths finally crossed, Lanky summoned the courage to speak.
"Why… why are you doing all of this for us?"
The knight, Arivalt, offered an indifferent shrug.
"A debt to settle. Have you heard of the 'Gravekeeper'? That cheeky lad saddled me with a rather troublesome favor—asked me to look after this place whenever I had a spare moment."
"What?!"
The title rendered Lanky speechless.
A familiar face flashed unbidden across his mind. A boy with messy brown hair and earnest brown eyes. A fellow who had always walked the streets clutching a shovel. A strange fellow who muttered incomprehensible nonsense from time to time, yet carried out menial tasks for the gangs with frustrating competence. And… a boy who had stood so stubbornly on his own two feet that Lanky had secretly harbored a quiet admiration for him.
When the boy had vanished without a trace, Lanky had assumed he had died in some unmarked ditch. To hear his name spoken from the lips of this monstrous swordsman struck him like a thunderclap.
Arivalt studied Lanky's dumbfounded expression.
"How old are you, lad?"
"Sixteen, sir. I think…"
"Hahaha! Then stay away from thug life. Cutting down youngsters leaves a foul taste in my dreams."
It was both a piece of counsel and a lethal warning. Lanky hung his head low.
"Then… what am I supposed to do with myself?"
"That is for you to decide."
Flicking a stray droplet of blood from the steel of his blade, Arivalt turned to leave, tossing one last phrase over his shoulder.
"It is your life, isn't it?"
The words struck deep into Lanky's chest, ringing like a brass bell.
From that day forward, everything began to shift. The children abandoned begging and pickpocketing; Lanky forbade them from touching both. Though they fumbled in confusion at first, the orphans gradually sought out their own callings.
"Granny Anna taught me how to make stew today! It was so much fun!"
"I start work at the bakery tomorrow morning! The baker said he liked my work ethic, heh."
"I'm going to train until I can enlist in the city garrison!"
For the first time, the children were talking about tomorrow. Their chatter was bright, their eyes clear. Watching them with a dazed expression, Lanky took in their surroundings.
The slums remained the slums. The plaster crumbled, the alleys reeked of rot, and drunken laborers still brawled in the mud. Yet it no longer felt like a bottomless quagmire waiting to drown them. Carefully, ever so tentatively, Lanky allowed himself to envision a dawn brighter than the day before.
"Look! Big brother is crying!"
"Crybaby! Lanky's a big crybaby!"
The warmth of the sun rested gently against his cheeks. Even in the deepest gutter, the sunlight found a way to reach the earth.
Upon his return to the manor, Arivalt found himself relentlessly interrogated by Emilia.
"And then? What happened after that?!"
Her curiosity centered entirely upon Reed. Arivalt had pieced together intelligence regarding the boy's recent exploits, uncovering feats that had surprised even the veteran knight. The encounter with the Crystal Kobold and the desperate skirmish in the subterranean aqueducts were tales fit for any grand adventure.
Emilia hung on every single syllable.
"My lady, this is the twenty-fifth time I have recounted the tale."
"Because it never stops being thrilling! It would be even more exciting to hear it straight from his own lips… Ah. Did that commoner—I mean, did Reed happen to mention anything about me?"
Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her expression brimming with undisguised anticipation. Swallowing a weary sigh, Arivalt answered flatly.
"He merely stated he was relieved to hear you were unharmed, my lady."
"I—is that so? I see…"
"……"
"……"
"You are plotting something again, aren't you? If you attempt to scale the estate wall a second time, steel yourself for a sound spanking."
Emilia gasped, her hands flying behind her to shield her rear.
"Plotting?! What do you mean, plotting?! And how old do you think I am?! Threatening to spank me—how utterly disgraceful!"
"Then pray conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station. *Haah…*" Arivalt rubbed his temples before continuing. "He is a fine youth. Prodigious in talent and razor-sharp in intellect. Should you secure him as a vassal, he will prove an invaluable pillar for your future."
"…Except he rejected your offer," she muttered sullenly.
Seeing her dejected slouch plucked at Arivalt's heartstrings, yet his voice remained firm.
"Which is precisely why you must apply yourself with greater diligence. If you refine your abilities and carry yourself with the true dignity of a sovereign, who is to say the boy will not reconsider? He declined our offer out of prudence, not out of any distaste for you, my lady."
"W-Well! That much is obvious! He certainly didn't refuse because he disliked me. Yes… that is the crucial point!"
Emilia's face brightened instantly. She was far too easy to read—a trait they would have to temper in the days to come. Arivalt rested a hand on his pommel.
"Now then, let us commence your swordsmanship instruction. For now, honing your own martial strength takes precedence. You are, after all, a trueborn daughter of House Evergreen."
The storm of succession would come. And to weather that tempest, one needed power—power substantial enough that no rival could dare look down upon her.
After parting ways with Arivalt, Reed headed straight for Smith Leak's office. The Pioneer Guild administrator stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment.
"Just what strings did you pull, Sir Reed? The city guards who were combing the streets for you suddenly announced that the entire incident had been struck from the records!"
The city watch had been turning the district upside down, searching for the perpetrator behind the chain of violent detonations. It would not have taken them long to trace the trail back to Reed, landing him in an imperial cell—or worse.
Yet a spree of uncontrolled explosive magic in the middle of the city had vanished as if it had never occurred.
Arivalt pulled some strings on his way out.
It was stark proof of the reach House Evergreen commanded, extending even into the Western Demon Realm's frontline hub of Morasil. Reed saw no reason to divulge his ties to the ducal house, judging that broadcasting such connections would do him more harm than good.
The political air back in the capital is venomous right now. The fewer who know, the safer I'll be.
Reed offered a vague, noncommittal smile. "Well, I managed to call in a small favor. The details are a bit awkward to share."
"Aha! Of course, I understand completely!"
Smith nodded sagely, his administrative mind already racing through grand scenarios. Could it be the influence of the mysterious master who dispatched him to Morasil? To sway the garrison commander with a single word… He must hail from an extraordinary lineage!
Ignorant of Reed's slum origins, Smith's assumption was entirely logical. Prominent magical clans and aristocratic factions flitted through his memory, solidifying his resolve with every second that passed.
I must tie myself to this young man at all costs.
Unaware of the wild misunderstandings brewing behind the bureaucrat's spectacles, Reed pushed himself up from his chair.
"I'll be taking my leave now. Exhaustion is catching up to me."
"Travel safely, Sir Reed! In fact, allow me to hail a private carriage for you!"
Though Smith's sudden, excessive deference seemed peculiar, Reed was far too drained to ponder it. Returning to his rented quarters, he collapsed onto the mattress without even bothering to wash away the dust of the day.
His eyelids fell shut.
The threat was gone. Having severed the shadow of his past with his own two hands, Reed sank into a deep, uninterrupted slumber free of fear or vigilance.
And on that very night…
Reed met Ur.