Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: 4. Confession (1)
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As soon as day broke, Yuri was summoned to his father.
He sat on the throne, forehead in hand, lost in thought.
"Yuri."
"Yes."
"You snuck out of the palace on your own?"
"I'm sorry."
"But you found the dungeon of our founder at Sword Mountain?"
"That's how it happened. What I saw there was..."
"A Death Knight?"
"Huh?"
"Hernando told me everything."
"That guy..."
Even so, had he spilled it all this quickly?
Thinking back, Hernando hadn't even explained what he'd seen in the illusion himself.
He'd grill him about it later.
With that in mind, Yuri spoke up.
"Yes. And I also learned the Mana Circulation Method."
Yuri explained the Heart-Soul Severing he'd acquired.
Fiore showed keen interest in the fact that mana circulation and swordsmanship were one and the same.
"A stroke of fortune. He founded our kingdom, yet records of him are scarce."
"Is there no way to find out more?"
"You might uncover something rummaging through the palace library."
"Understood."
"You got the sword there too?"
"Yes."
"You planning to use it?"
"That's the idea."
"It'll suit you."
"Someday it'll fit just right."
"I see..."
Fiore rose from his seat.
"Yuri. My son."
"Yes."
"I told you not to stir up trouble."
"Yes, yes..."
As Fiore approached, an oppressive weight bore down on his shoulders.
Who else in the world would unleash killing intent on their thirteen-year-old son?
Yuri backed away, only for Fiore to grab his shoulder.
"Listen to me, alright?"
"Of course."
"Tell me everything."
"Didn't you just hear it all?"
"Not that."
He lightly tapped Yuri's head with his palm.
"You know what I mean."
It looked like a father's affectionate touch at a glance, but Yuri, the one on the receiving end, was breaking out in cold sweat.
Why the killing intent, of all things?
Any moment, that hand might crush his throat.
"Ah, Father."
"Yes."
"I'll confess everything."
"Good boy."
Yuri steeled himself.
He had to tell him sooner or later anyway.
To crush the Empire's ambitions, careful preparation wouldn't cut it. He needed to give his all without a moment's rest.
Storms would surely arise along his path.
Better to explain ahead of time.
"I had a dream..."
"A frightening one?"
"No."
"A sad one?"
"No."
"Then why the grim face?"
"Well..."
Yuri took a step back, escaping his father's grasp.
"Because you balled your fist, Father."
"Ah, right."
Fiore opened his hand. It was open now, but that slap still worried him.
"Continue."
"Truth be told, it was a frightening dream. Our capital in flames, the people massacred—a nightmare."
Fiore's nodding head froze.
"It felt so real I couldn't shake it off even after waking. In the dream, I..."
It was half the truth.
Who could say if his previous life was the dream or reality?
Maybe this time was the dream instead.
Someone might be burying his unconscious body, saying, "This guy's grinning." "Leave him; probably having a good dream."
From that sentiment, Yuri spoke from the heart.
"I'd committed grave sins and tried to atone, but I could only watch as the kingdom fell. I survived alone, abandoning honor, scraping by miserably until my wretched end."
"Is that why you've changed lately?"
"Yes."
"You think it'll really happen?"
"Not exactly, but..."
Yuri bared his neck.
"I see it as a warning from Mother."
"Why?"
"Because after the dream, the necklace vanished."
That's right.
The necklace that had glowed at the end of his past life disappeared without a trace upon his return to the past.
"You didn't lose it?"
"Father."
Yuri furrowed his brow.
Even he wouldn't lie about Mother's keepsake.
Fiore chuckled and ruffled his son's hair.
"I get it. So you're changing because of that dream."
"Yes."
"Lily would be pleased."
Lily was his mother's name.
"So, what destroyed the kingdom in your dream?"
Yuri hesitated.
He wasn't sure if mentioning the Empire was wise.
His return might have altered history enough to prevent the invasion altogether.
"I'm not entirely sure."
After weighing it, Yuri answered.
When the time came to warn about the Empire, he could do it then.
"An army of shadowy figures, stronger than Brioll's knights."
Fiore nodded.
"Got it. Whether it was just a bad dream or truly Lily warning of the future, I'm glad you've pulled yourself together."
Maybe.
Yuri shook his head inwardly.
He wasn't together; he was just thrashing to atone for his sins.
But one thing had dawned on him.
The voice of the Death Knight, bound in the dungeon, unable to die, echoed in his ears: The heirs of Brioll do not abandon honor.
"Is that explanation enough?"
"No."
"I told you everything..."
"One more thing."
Fiore made an unexpected proposal.
"Bring your sword."
The cavernous chamber was vast and silent.
Apart from the glowing lights overhead, it was stark and empty.
He knew his father had a private training hall in the palace basement, but this was his first time here.
Enormous cracks scarred the walls—hardly imaginable as sword marks.
They said he always came here when he vanished.
How far did he plan to go in strength?
"You're here."
Turning, Yuri saw his father had appeared without a sound.
Fiore Brioll.
The genius who had gripped a sword from the moment he could walk.
At a young age, he'd won the Empire's knight tournament, then etched his name across the continent with awe-inspiring feats in the allied forces formed to repel the orc invasion.
Now, he was deemed closest to the pinnacle among the continent's Ten Strongest.
"First time here."
"I thought none of my sons had any sword talent."
"Hmm..."
Yuri disagreed.
Though he'd caused trouble and slacked on training, never reaching great heights, his martial aptitude had always been admired.
To call that no talent—were his father's standards that high?
"You don't accept that?"
"No. I think I have some talent for the sword."
"Talent..."
Fiore raised his sword.
His beloved blade, Northwind, gleamed under the lights.
"What is a swordsman's talent?"
The question left him speechless.
Fiore offered examples.
"Innate strength? Speed? Reflexes? Or sharp intuition?"
"All of it, maybe?"
"Which do you have?"
"I think I have them all."
"So you'll become a great swordsman?"
He started to say yes, then shut his mouth.
In his past life, he hadn't been a proper swordsman.
He'd clung to his rusty talents against the Empire's invasion, but he was no better than the other knights.
"The me before the dream probably wouldn't have."
"What were you like in the dream?"
"Pathetic."
"Plenty like that. Kids who shine early but end up ordinary."
Fiore swung at empty air. Even that small motion was extraordinary.
"I'm not talking surface-level stuff. Persistent training gets anyone there eventually. What matters is whatever drives a person beyond that."
"Beyond that..."
"In your case, extreme laziness. Despite your physical gifts."
"Effort, then?"
"Beyond effort. Something that outpaces even危機 or duty."
Fiore gazed at his sword.
A shadow flickered in his eyes.
Suddenly, Yuri found it eerie.
Just looking at his blade, yet he seemed lost to reason, entranced by the sword. For that brief moment, Yuri sensed something off.
Unthinkingly, Yuri gripped his own sword.
"Hard to put into words. Maybe 'called by the sword'?"
He vaguely got it.
Yuri murmured.
"Like fate?"
"I don't like such passive terms, but perhaps."
In his past life, Yuri had talent but never devoted himself to the sword.
In other words, the sword hadn't drawn him.
He wasn't fated for its path.
What about now?
Yuri stared at Guilty, the blade handed down from the Death Knight.
"..."
Though buried for ages, its flawless blade reflected his eyes.
Brioll royal black irises, calmly still.
That was all.
"What do you feel, son?"
Fiore whispered in his ear.
"Must you take up the sword?"
He didn't know.
To him, it was just a tool—no destiny or miracle stirred.
Even reborn, he might never become like Fiore, enthralled by the blade.
"Do you hear the sword's call? When death comes, will a sword be in your hand?"
He didn't know.
His resolve not to repeat past mistakes was firm, but it didn't mean becoming a great swordsman.
Yuri slowly shook his head.
"I feel nothing..."
He looked up at Fiore.
"..."
And recoiled from the glaring crimson eyes staring down.
Shadows rose all around.
Thousands, tens of thousands of eyes glared at him.
Brioll that day, trampled under imperial boots, ablaze, revived.
"Ah..."
Flames engulfed everything.
Despair and grief filled the land.
Imperial troops marched over corpses.
He had no power to stop them.
Helplessness sank into his body.
Those emotions resurrected.
Watching Brioll's banner fall from the palace, Yuri foresaw inevitable ruin.
But.
'Never fear the enemy.'
A fellow sinner's voice rang in his ears.
Yuri raised his sword.
Victory or defeat didn't matter.
Life or death was irrelevant.
Even fate be damned.
'Act on your convictions.'
That was simply what he must do.
Even rolling naked over spears and blades, he had to swing his sword.
The Empire's black horde advanced.
Yuri charged without hesitation.
He killed, took wounds. Slashing through foes, he pressed forward.
Soon his body faltered, sinking like a paper boat in waves amid the Empire's black armor.
Death.
'Fulfill Brioll's duty to the end.'
Feeling his flesh tear apart, Yuri laughed in ecstasy.
"Yuri?"
He looked up again.
His father gazed down.
What had that been?
"You..."
His hand clutching Guilty trembled.
Yuri blinked.
His vision flushed red, then cleared.
He took a deep breath, calming his nerves.
How much time had passed?
A faint smile and deep concern shadowed Fiore's face.
"Looks like I was wrong."
Fiore patted his shoulder.
His father's raised hand always brought dread, but not this time.
It felt warm, peaceful even.
"Yuri."
"Yes."
"You'll take up the sword."
Yuri nodded.
"I've decided."
Disliking Fiore's bitter expression, Yuri grinned and smacked his butt.
"Don't worry. I'm a genius, after all."
He got bopped on the head.