Succession (5)
Ki energy is being accumulated through the training method Extreme Ring.
Current stage is level 2, 10.1%.
This was the first time in this life that I'd cultivated ki energy…
And I'd reached 2-star in one go.
But I still couldn't quite grasp what had happened or how.
It wasn't until I lay down on the cot in the recovery room that I finally heard the full story.
"Ahem. There was no other way to pass on Extreme Ring to you. Honestly, when my master taught it to me, I thought he was out of his mind."
Leonir, seated in an armchair, scratched his forehead as he explained.
Even though I'd reached 6-star in my previous life, I'd never witnessed a Sword Spark.
Extreme Ring had made it happen in an instant.
Something was different.
But Hierniorn seemed displeased.
He clicked his tongue and grumbled.
He wasn't wrong.
Putting together the fragmented memories I had left and Leonir's explanation, it went something like this.
First, you had to use Delirium and strong liquor to blow away most of your consciousness.
Then, with a sword technique you'd memorized beforehand, you resonated with the sword in your hand and began cultivating.
Thousand Illusion Martial Sword served that purpose.
The problem was accepting ki energy in an unconscious state.
I knew that.
500 years ago, Ulfrik's word was law.
But thinking about it calmly, Extreme Ring had its own logic as a training method.
A knight's ki energy, unlike a mage's mana, had to be drawn out in an instant.
'So preparing to handle it entirely at an unconscious level isn't a bad approach.'
Hierniorn grumbled that it was nonsense, but I ignored him.
And Leonir hadn't told me about this cultivation method beforehand precisely because it relied on the unconscious.
Knowing the details in advance could influence the unconscious mind.
Conscious and unconscious were inseparable; becoming aware of something meant taking a step away from the unconscious.
'That's why you have to start knowing nothing to maximize the method's effect…'
The more I chewed on it, the more intriguing it became.
Leonir had done his utmost to ensure I could fully master Extreme Ring.
But that had caused a problem too.
The moment I'd collapsed, unable to endure the ki cultivation.
The reason was simple.
Karma was a divine sword.
'Even if it's a replica, it's no sword you can control unconsciously.'
If Leonir hadn't intervened, I might have gone mad or exploded from the ki rampage.
Of course, if not for him, I wouldn't have used this bizarre method in the first place.
"…Rest for now. You've formed your first ring, so the next ones will be much easier. Once you get the knack, you'll be able to cultivate without the Delirium spell, and the burden will lighten."
Any cultivation method becomes familiar with practice, picking up speed.
But accidents could happen along the way.
It had been the same with the method I'd learned from Ulfrik in my previous life.
—Black Cloud Tomb.
The ultimate cultivation method, taught only to ten disciples out of countless swordsmen.
Yet half of us became invalids, unable to handle the ki rampage.
Even after long training, when we'd all mastered circulation.
'Yeah, that's right. That's why it's obsolete now, only appearing in records.'
Extreme Ring might even be more dangerous than Black Cloud Tomb.
It was a much newer method with the fatal flaw of requiring unconscious cultivation.
Just as a shattered mana heart ruined a mage, a ki rampage left a knight irreparable.
Was there no solution?
'Pretend?'
He had a point.
But it stirred my competitive spirit.
The Noble Wall.
'Can I really not surpass it?'
Until yesterday, I'd thought it impossible, of course.
My innate talent and constitution hadn't changed from this life or the last.
But the moment Extreme Ring took root, something inside me stirred.
Maybe.
Just maybe…
'It could be possible.'
Even brushing the 7-star realm I'd never reached before would be a huge help.
Leonir himself, at 8-star, proved Extreme Ring wasn't useless.
'Drunkard or beggar, it's worth considering the potential, isn't it?'
I decided to keep an open mind about the possibilities.
Then a question arose—one I'd been most curious about lately.
"Uncle."
"Yes?"
"Something I've been wondering. Where did you learn Thousand Illusion Martial Sword and Extreme Ring? You mentioned your master earlier. These sword arts and methods aren't in our family, are they?"
"…"
Garnas, Rohbark's second son, had graduated from the Extremism academy as top trainee, playing a key role.
Leonir's path was different.
He'd been in Extremism too, but after his third year, his whereabouts were unknown.
Then he'd reappeared suddenly when it was time for graduation prep.
Even Hierniorn didn't know.
I needed to know the origin of these sword arts.
So I asked, and Leonir's unexpected answer came after a moment's thought.
"I attended the Imperial University. Under a changed name and face."
"…!"
Sevanegra, humanity's empire's second city.
At its heart stood 66 towers linked tightly as the Imperial University.
Unlike the hidden academies scattered across Kirchheis territory, it stood boldly.
And it was the lifelong goal of successive Kirchheis patriarchs.
"Uncle, the Imperial University is…"
"Yes, exactly. The 'target.' A place our family must one day reclaim."
Sevanegra was Kirchheis territory lost long ago.
The patriarchs, including Ulfrik, wanted to dismantle the university and retake it.
And a direct heir of Kirchheis had learned swordsmanship there?
"Kirian, we've long been called the pinnacle house, but it's been over a century since our last Swordmaster. Even as Spellmasters emerge every generation in magic…"
Leonir gave a wistful smile.
"That's why the empire's swordsmanship seemed better. No need to mention the teaching. So the patriarch pulled strings. No one recognized me."
A bold gambit.
Who'd expect Kirchheis's firstborn to study swordsmanship at the Imperial University?
A perfect blindside.
"What about your master, then?"
Who had taught Leonir Thousand Illusion Martial Sword, the advanced arts, and Extreme Ring?
No ordinary expert.
But Leonir smiled evasively.
"That's a secret. Like that sword of yours. I'll tell you when the time comes."
"…"
I knew there had once been three Swordmasters at the Imperial University.
Two left Sevanegra, but one still reigned as a senior professor.
Not important anyway.
"Passing on Extreme Ring so quickly is surprising. I thought it'd take at least a fortnight, not four days…"
A strange emotion flickered in Leonir's gaze as he watched me.
A warmth like looking at his own son.
Enough for anyone to misunderstand.
'A bit disconcerting.'
Nonsense.
I focused on Leonir's words.
He promised what I wanted.
"I won't interfere with your research on the Seven Great Enigmas from now on. Do as you please. Though I doubt you'd listen if I tried to stop you."
"Thank you, Uncle."
"But."
Leonir paused and drew something from his bosom.
A small orb etched with intricate patterns.
I took it casually, then flinched.
A powerful spell enveloped it.
"This is…?"
"It's called the Hundred Spirit Orb. Smash it in an emergency. The grudge spirits I've gathered will aid you."
A tiny prison sealing countless souls.
An artifact collecting spirits of the vengeful dead.
Smash something this expensive to use?
No way.
"Thank you. If needed, I'll use a Summon spell to draw them out one by one."
"That requires the right aptitude."
"I have something similar."
"Oh… Well, recycle as much as you can, then."
I unclasped the chain necklace with Iphril's ring and added the orb.
High-end artifacts usually had convenience spells matching their price.
My neck felt lighter and more comfortable.
Nothing bad about having it.
Except one thing nagging me—
'You usually give items like this before dangerous situations, right?'
Sure enough.
Leonir, whose expression had grown heavy, brought up something new.
"You'll head out soon. The Eternalism academy has 'regular patrol missions' too."
"That's…?"
"Dispatched somewhere in our territory to resolve residents' grievances. You'll meet outsiders, naturally."
"Yes, of course."
So what?
Leonir narrowed his eyes, revealing hostility.
"One of them will surely be a Red Ghost."
"Pardon?"
"Filth targeting our family's blood will appear. It always happens. The Red Cartel moving is a given."
"…"
Red Ghosts.
A race I had plenty to say about.
They'd arisen from some incident Ulfrik caused 500 years ago.
Exploiting remnants of extinct vampires, hunting knights and mages to survive.
But history recorded nothing.
"The patriarch has pulled strings to protect you, so no worries. Don't be shocked by brutality. Purging evil is the Holy Hero's legacy."
I nodded quietly.
Leonir patted my shoulder contentedly.
"Next time, call me 'Father.' You'll meet my wife then."
"…Yes, Uncle."
I'll smack that pigeon's beak later.
If it doesn't stop nagging—
"…"
Someday I'll pluck that guy's feathers and deep-fry them.