Succession (4)
Kirian was a genius bestowed by the goddess.
It didn't matter whether it was magic or swordsmanship.
Over the past three days, Leonir had come to fully realize this.
'Memorizing all 72 basic forms of the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword in just three days?'
It was impossible.
The Thousand Illusion Martial Sword was among the simplest sword arts in Leonir's arsenal, but compared to the basic swordsmanship taught by Bastion, it was several times more complex.
Yet Kirian had accomplished it with such effortless poise.
Like a thoroughly dried sponge, he had soaked up every lesson without a drop spilling over.
It was an unbelievable capacity for learning.
Was he really on the path to becoming a Swordmaster?
'But he's more promising as a mage than anyone else.'
What to do about this?
Leonir had spent those three days in a sleepless, joyful dilemma, and now the day had arrived to teach him the ki cultivation method.
The strong liquor and the Delirium spell were for the first stage.
But then—
Gulp, gulp, gulp—
"Kahaaah!"
"Hm? I didn't say to down it all at once."
Kirian emptied the bottle clean like a seasoned mercenary and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Almost immediately, the effects of Delirium took hold—his sky-blue eyes darted erratically.
Leonir wondered for a moment if this was okay, but it was better than passing out after one sip.
Leading Kirian onto the massive magic circle, Leonir spoke.
"Listen well. My ki cultivation method relies on the 'unconscious.' Once you're proficient, you can maintain consciousness, but for the first time, it's crucial to sink as deeply into the unconscious as possible."
—Extreme Ring.
It was a peculiar cultivation technique that no one in the Kirchheis family had ever mastered.
It sealed away the knight's dominating consciousness at the base, drawing forth the warrior's unconscious to build the most instinctive ki.
To teach it, Leonir had planted the seed of the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword and planned to make it bloom using the Delirium spell.
"What... did you say...?"
Kirian's body swayed from the side effects, but Leonir continued nonchalantly.
"It doesn't matter if you don't remember my words. First, draw your sword. Then focus solely on executing the basic forms of the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword I taught you precisely. The rest will be handled by your sword and body."
"Focus... right, focus first..."
Kirian mumbled with a slurred tongue.
And then he drew his sword like lightning.
But the blade's tip veered toward an unexpected target.
"...?"
"What are you waiting for? Draw your sword, Uncle."
He was aiming it at Leonir, as if challenging him to a spar.
Though thoroughly drunk, the provocative glint in his eyes drew a chuckle from Leonir.
"You want to cross blades with me right now?"
"Yes. Lately, there's no one worth fighting properly. But do you know what, Uncle?"
"What?"
"Back in the day, drawing a sword while drunk would've landed you in the underground dungeon."
The moment Leonir gripped his sword hilt while listening to Kirian's drunken ramblings—
Flash!
A silver gleam surged right before his eyes.
It was Kirian's preemptive diagonal slash.
Leonir tilted his head slightly to deflect it, a question arising in his mind.
'That's the Ghost Shadow Bloom technique. But did I ever teach him this form?'
It wasn't one of the 72 basic forms of the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword, but from the 108 advanced applications.
Yet Leonir had never taught it to Kirian.
That meant it was instinctual... and yet—
'It doesn't feel awkward at all.'
He had unleashed it with the proficiency of someone who had already mastered it.
A talent where teaching one form awakened ten more.
It was laughable in its absurdity.
Meanwhile, Kirian pulled his sword back with half-closed eyes.
His face grew ever redder, but the blade's tip remained steady.
"The world's gotten so much better... Drinking and swinging a sword... Something that old fart would've never allowed..."
"...?"
What was he muttering about?
In any case, Leonir raised his own sword and spoke.
"Fine. I'll humor you. As I said, focus on the basic forms of the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword. I'll parry until you fall."
"Yes, let's do that."
"...?"
Distracted by the odd shift in speech, Leonir faltered for a moment.
Kirian unleashed his second strike.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
The boy's form split into three or four shadows, showering blade phantoms in rapid succession.
Low, high, mid—chained strikes targeting every level.
This time, it was the Black Wolf Soar technique Leonir had taught him.
But its power was far beyond expectations.
'It's a downward chop, followed by an upward slice into a thrust...?'
The flow of the combo was so fluid it felt like a single strike.
Especially the finisher—intense enough to be unbelievable from a boy his age.
Yet Kirian remained utterly composed, as if it were nothing.
"..."
Leonir's coat hem fluttered, slightly torn.
He hadn't gone all out, but for a first-year trainee to graze an 8-star knight was an astonishing feat.
Still, Kirian muttered to himself with a dissatisfied expression.
"Strange... This is really strange..."
"What's strange?"
"No, nothing. Let's go again..."
The blades crossed in a slippery clash, resuming the exchange.
Sinking into the unconscious under Delirium to master the Extreme Ring through the Thousand Illusion Martial Sword.
The more instinctive the movements in this process, the greater the effect.
As if instinctively grasping this, Kirian unleashed forms indiscriminately, pressuring Leonir.
But subtle variations were woven in here and there.
That was intriguing too.
'This is the timing to add rotation to the body.'
Suddenly kicking off the ground, flipping mid-air to drive in piercing thrusts—or
In a blade lock, abruptly wheeling to a diagonal for an unforeseen barrage.
Of course, Leonir parried every assault with ease.
A faint smile played on his lips.
'This is fun for a change.'
It wasn't just joy at his heir's prowess.
Clashing swords with Kirian himself was exhilarating.
But to feel this way against a novice...
'It's a bit of a blow to my pride.'
Of course, the pleasure far outweighed it, so the smile lingered.
Clang!
His longsword shifted angle sharply, batting away Kirian's incoming blade with force.
That was when the amusement faded from Leonir's face.
The relentless assaults suddenly lost their power.
Not a bad sign.
It meant Kirian had delved deep into the unconscious.
Time to properly form the Extreme Ring.
"Kirian, focus your mind. Accept the ki flowing from the sword!"
"..."
Mages had mana hearts, but knights lacked such a power core.
Because they had a sword in hand.
A knight's power built gradually through sword arts, becoming one with their blade.
Even now, cultivating the Extreme Ring in the unconscious, resonating with the sword in hand was paramount.
This was closely tied to the sword's quality.
'Kirian's young, but he should handle the Mudra sword's ki just fine.'
Judging so, Leonir sheathed his blade and watched.
With the sword awarded by his homeroom professor, basic cultivation should finish within 30 seconds.
But something was off.
"Urgh..."
Kirian, leaning on his longsword like a staff, had thick veins bulging on his forehead.
A sign he was absorbing immense ki from the unconscious.
But the cultivation wouldn't end.
Sensing something wrong belatedly, Leonir rushed to him.
"Drop the sword! Kirian! Now!"
"Quiet... For a knight, a cherished sword is like a lover back home..."
"Kirian!"
He tugged to pry it away, but Kirian, lost in Delirium, babbled drunkenly and clung tight.
His grip was unnaturally strong for a child—hard to force.
"Damn it."
Left like this, Kirian's mind could shatter.
With no choice, Leonir summoned his Sword Spirit.
A brilliant glow enveloped the blade.
"Sorry. I'll get you a new one, Kirian."
A grand arc of light crushed the entire training ground.
The mana flow from the magic circle warped, shattering the Delirium spell.
It was sword aura strong enough to pulverize a mere Mudra sword.
But—
Kiiing!
"...!"
A sharp metallic ring echoed as the blade flew from Kirian's hand.
Arcing high, it pierced through the broken magic circle and stabbed into the ground.
Leonir could only stare in shock.
'That sword withstood my Sword Spirit?'
It looked like a Mudra sword, but clearly wasn't.
Snapping from momentary confusion, Leonir's eyes shifted.
First, tend to Kirian.
"Urgh..."
As Delirium ended and consciousness returned, Kirian was covered in blood.
His palms torn from gripping with all his might.
Leonir rummaged in his pocket for a small potion vial.
"Sorry. It's a hemostatic salve. Spread your palms."
An expensive remedy laced with troll bone dust, but Leonir applied it generously.
He inwardly berated himself for not inspecting Kirian's sword beforehand.
Moments later, Kirian's raspy voice emerged.
"...What the hell happened?"
"Looks like it failed. For a knight to absorb ki, resonating through sword arts is fundamental. My method does that in the unconscious realm, but..."
Leonir tried explaining with a heavy heart.
The unconscious was the opposite of awareness—fixing errors there was far harder.
With unseen flaws, forming the Extreme Ring was impossible.
But Kirian groaned and shook his head.
"No, that's not it. Ugh, my head."
Clutching his temple like a hangover victim, he gestured toward the embedded sword.
The longsword whirled back into his hand.
A flawless Telekinesis spell, as if asking what happened.
"What I mean is, what's up with this?"
"...?"
"Look."
Gripping the hilt, Kirian channeled ki.
Flames erupted along the blade.
Dazzling platinum like his own hair, flickering illusorily.
Leonir's eyes widened.
"Sword Spark!"
Unrefined ki bursting from the blade.
A trick young knights used to show off talent.
Whatever the process, it meant Kirian had begun accumulating his own ki.
Proving his gift irrefutably.
"You did it! Success!"
Leonir clenched his fist and ruffled Kirian's hair.
"What a relief. I thought you'd failed."
"No, what I'm saying is..."
"By the way, what's with that sword? Not ordinary, is it? Ah, no need if you don't want to say. A direct Kirchheis bloodline needs secrets to be interesting."
"..."
The excited uncle showed no interest in explanations.
What the hell had happened?
Kirian pressed his throbbing temples, glaring at the Sword Spark.
'In my past life, this was impossible even in death. Why now?'