Clothes That Fit

The spacious rear garden attached to Cael's residence basked in warm sunlight. There, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the noble youngest daughter of the ducal family, Isabel, was trembling and dripping with sweat.

"B-Brother... my legs... my legs feel like they're going to break..."

"Who was it that said they wanted to learn right now?"

"Ah, but this is too much!!"

"Your stance is off. Tuck your hips in more and straighten your back. Focus on gathering energy in your danjeon with the breathing technique I taught you."

Cael leisurely sipped his tea while seated, critiquing Isabel's shaky horse stance. Her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face was already a picture of misery.

When Cael had offered to oversee her sword training, Isabel had imagined something elegant and flashy—a graceful sword dance fitting for a noble lady. Leaping lightly like a butterfly, tracing beautiful arcs with her blade, that kind of refined practice.

But reality was harsh. Cael hadn't given her so much as a wooden branch, let alone a sword. Instead, he'd been forcing her into this brutish lower-body endurance exercise—legs spread wider than shoulder-width, knees bent—for a full two hours.

"Brotherrr... eek! My thighs are going to explode! You definitely said you'd teach me swordsmanship!!"

As Isabel whined with teary eyes, Cael clicked his tongue.

"Flashy techniques are just a facade. Swordsmanship without a solid foundation in your lower body and a stable danjeon is nothing but a sandcastle. Besides, that energy latent inside you can't be handled with parlor tricks your whole life."

"W-What energy do I even have?!"

Cael grinned at that.

"Something very good."

The energy of the Plague Demon rising from Isabel's danjeon. Its nature to incinerate the uncanny demanded a body tougher than any martial art and a spirit of iron will.

"Well, if it's too hard, you can stop. But if you give up here, getting stronger will be tough."

Did those words spur her on? Isabel gritted her teeth.

"Argh! You're doing this on purpose!! To make me not give up!"

"Heh, think what you want."

"I won't give up!!"

'As expected, her temperament is straightforward. Hmm, this world has spiritual entities too, right? She might just become the ultimate exorcist.'

This fantasy world had ghost-type monsters like ghouls and banshees. Training in Shaolin martial arts would make one strong, but it specialized even more in slaying the uncanny.

'That'll be a huge help later.'

"You're holding up pretty well. Then I'll take a nap. Wake me when two hours are up."

"What!? Brother, that's too much!!"

Isabel stomped her foot in protest. But...

Thud—

"Huh...?"

It was just a light kick. Yet the ground beneath Isabel's foot caved in.

"Proper breathing and proper stance. Didn't I say even that alone can make you strong?"

At her brother's voice, Isabel swallowed hard.

'W-What...? This warm energy...?'

Isabel was beginning to sense the energy within her.

"I-I'll do my best!!"

Cael chuckled inwardly as he watched her.

'A Shaolin nun in a romance fantasy. And a girl, no less.'

That was when it happened. A murmur rose from the entrance to Cael's residence, followed by the sound of dozens of footsteps approaching in formation.

Cael turned his gaze. A group of knights marched in boldly, covered in dust.

"Hm?"

It was the Blue Wolf Knights. Leading them was Captain Gilbert. A vivid red paw print from Oliver still stamped the center of his face like a seal, but his expression shone brighter and more elated than ever.

Gilbert halted a dozen paces from Cael and dropped to one knee with a crisp salute. Simon, Rachel, and the entire Blue Wolf Knights followed in perfect unison, kneeling and bowing their heads.

Clang—!

The synchronized crash of dozens of armored knights was quite the spectacle.

"What's this? All of you at once."

"Blue Wolf Knights Captain Gilbert greets the Young Duke!"

Gilbert's booming declaration prompted Cael to rise slowly from his seat.

"Haha, from the look on your face, Oliver gave you a thorough thrashing."

Gilbert bowed his head at Cael's words.

"It was an enlightenment I'll never forget in my lifetime. Could you... find clothes that fit me as well?"

"Is that so?"

There wasn't a trace of shame in Gilbert's eyes. Only pure, burning hunger for the martial way.

'Was the captain always like this? Easy to handle, though. Looks like Roben did well.'

Gilbert unbuckled his sword from his waist, offering it to Cael with both hands.

"The entire Blue Wolf Knights pledge, from this moment, to be nothing but the Young Duke Cael's sword and shield. Please take us in!"

"Please take us in!"

The knights' thunderous chorus filled Cael's garden. Isabel gaped at them, still holding her horse stance.

Cael smiled faintly and placed his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand atop the sword Gilbert offered.

"Very well. I gladly accept your loyalty. I'll forge you into the sharpest fangs on the continent—no regrets for that resolve."

The knights' eyes blazed with fierce determination at Cael's declaration.

At the same time, in the acting family head's office in the main house.

Silina stared blankly up at the trembling head steward. The documents in her hand fluttered weakly to the floor.

"What... what did you just say?"

The steward swallowed dryly and reported again.

"The entire Blue Wolf Knights... they've swarmed to the Young Duke Cael's residence, sworn loyalty, and resolved to serve him as their lord! Captain Gilbert personally offered his sword!"

Bam—!

Silina slammed her fist on the desk.

"That rotten bastard Gilbert's gone mad!? The guy who played dead and stayed neutral from the main house—why the hell hand over his whole order now!?"

The steward flattened himself on the floor at Silina's furious shriek.

Things were spiraling out of control. Just one day after Cael's return to the main house, the neglected Blue Wolf Knights had wholesale defected to his faction.

Rumors swirling through the family claimed his subordinates' prowess was beyond imagination, shaking even the other knight orders.

Silina ground her teeth.

"That insolent rat... Building forces to challenge me before the family head returns."

She suppressed her growing unease, clinging to the belief that the returning family head's judgment would only grow harsher as Cael's momentum built.

The northernmost frontline, the boundary overrun by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠demonic beasts. The sky was shrouded in ashen storm clouds, and rivers of red blood and black beast ichor flowed across the barren earth.

Before a horrific pile of hundreds of elite demonic beasts stacked like mountains stood a lone man.

His suffocating killing intent and overwhelming presence made even the mountain of corpses seem insignificant.

The true master of House Restis. The tyrant who ruled the northern continent in terror, the man hailed in the novel as the strongest swordmaster.

Family head, Arjen Restis.

He indifferently plunged his massive, blood-dripping sword into the ground, then crushed the severed head of the beast he'd just beheaded underfoot.

Crunch—!

A silver-armored adjutant approached cautiously and knelt beside Arjen.

"Family head, a letter from the main house has arrived."

"Who sent it? If it's from Silina, toss it."

"No, sir. It's from Chief Steward Renolt."

"Read it."

The adjutant swallowed hard before reading the next line.

"The Young Duke has subjugated the criminal organization in Vollex Territory. He has also clearly expressed his intent to challenge for the successor position once more."

Arjen's crimson eyes gleamed coldly as he finished hearing the letter. A scoff escaped his tightly pressed lips.

"Ha? Cael's awake?"

Years ago, he'd deemed the weak, incompetent firstborn unworthy and cast him from the succession early. When word came he was on death's door, Arjen had simply assumed that was his fate and moved on.

Yet from that dead branch, not just a sprout—but subjugating a criminal syndicate?

"Vollex... the Legnum bastards?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are those scum pushovers even a freshly risen invalid could handle?"

"No, they aren't."

Arjen pulled his sword free and sheathed it, gazing at the sky.

"Interesting. Did he gain some enlightenment cheating death?"

"Even if it's from Chief Steward Renolt, it seems hard to take as fact..."

"We can verify it ourselves."

His voice held no emotion. Arjen issued a curt order to the adjutant.

"Demonic beast subjugation ends here. We return to the main house ahead of schedule. Prepare."

"Understood!"