The Mad Fang Sword

Raon committed every last word of the booklet Judiel had prepared to memory, then set it on fire. Leaving it lying around would only invite trouble if anyone outside the Annex stumbled across it. Better to destroy the thing outright.

"Hmm..."

He tapped a finger against the floor, watching the booklet melt away in midair, swallowed by flame.

"I need to learn a new sword art."

According to Judiel's booklet, the monsters that appeared at Habun Castle had hides so tough a blade could barely cut them, and their bodies were enormous besides.

Zieghart's basic swordsmanship was a balanced art, offense and defense split evenly down the middle. It was poorly suited to a tide of charging beasts, or to large monsters whose hides were thick as armor.

He had the techniques of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, but every form was a killing blow — the aura drain was far too severe. What he needed was an offense-focused sword art he could actually use in ordinary combat.

Then again, I've drilled the basics as far as they'll go.

Until now, he had trained and fought exclusively with Zieghart's foundational swordsmanship. The groundwork was solid. It was time to build on top of it.

"Hrm..."

Raon opened the bottom drawer of his desk and drew out a tablet that gleamed silver. At its center was engraved the emblem of a flaming sword, the blade wreathed in fire.

It was the Silver Tablet he'd received as a reward for slaying the Green Thunder Demon and saving everyone on his second mission.

Clink.

He turned the Silver Tablet over in his fingers, clicking his tongue. He'd been saving it for the day he restored Sylvia to the status of a direct descendant — but thinking about it now, that wasn't going to work.

This is no ordinary undertaking.

For a collateral descendant like Sylvia to return to the direct line, a Silver Tablet wouldn't cut it. She would need Gold Tablets — and not one or two of them, but a great many.

Right now, every resource at his disposal had to be poured into getting stronger. This wasn't a time to hoard. It was a time to invest.

"Time to go."

Raon slipped the Silver Tablet into his pocket and stood. On his way out through the lobby, he ran into Judiel.

"Have you awakened?"

Judiel bowed at the waist, lowering her head.

"Thank you."

"It was nothing."

When he thanked her, she shook her head, her face expressionless.

That faint smile she'd shown before — that had been her real face after all.

"Where are you going?"

"To put this to use."

Raon showed her the Silver Tablet, which glittered even from inside his pocket.

"If I'm going to cash this in, I might as well wring it for everything it's worth."

Raon headed straight for the Lord's Palace. A gatekeeper tried to bar his way, but the moment he produced the Silver Tablet, he was escorted all the way to the Audience Chamber.

This is why I have to succeed.

They blocked him for being a collateral descendant, then treated him like this the instant he showed a tablet. If only out of sheer spite, he was going to earn merit and make something of himself.

"Hmph..."

As he walked toward the Audience Chamber, Raon felt the sting of watching eyes. Swordsmen and clerks throughout the Lord's Palace all stole glances at him.

They used to look right through him, as if he weren't even there. The fact that they were staring now meant his reputation had shifted, if only a little.

"We've arrived."

He was still turning over those stares in his mind when the gatekeeper stopped. Raon lifted his gaze to the massive iron doors of the Audience Chamber.

He explained his business to the chamber's own gatekeeper, who sent word inside. The answer came quickly.

"You may enter."

The gatekeeper laid a hand on the door, and the colossal iron gates that stretched to the ceiling began to part. At the same instant, Glenn's immense presence came flooding out. No matter how many times Raon experienced it, he never got used to that.

Raon walked the golden carpet to the center of the Audience Chamber. Glenn regarded him with that same unreadable gaze as always.

"I present myself before the Head of House!"

"That's enough."

Raon had been about to drop to one knee when Glenn waved him off. He froze in an awkward half-bow, then slowly straightened.

"Get to the point."

That arrogant, endlessly repeated little display... it reminds this king of his days in the Demon Realm. Countless nobles, crushed beneath this king's overwhelming presence...

"Understood."

Raon ignored the chatterbox at his side and produced the Silver Tablet he'd brought.

"I wish to use the Silver Tablet I previously received."

"Using the Silver Tablet is your prerogative. But didn't you say you had a purpose for it?"

Glenn's upper body leaned forward slightly. The air inside the Audience Chamber grew cold and still.

"I did. I intended to collect tablets to restore my mother to the direct line."

"And now you mean to spend it?"

"After completing a major mission and dueling a direct descendant, I came to a realization."

Raon's eyes were calm as he spoke.

"A realization?"

"Yes. Even after results that should have been impressive, not a single word was spoken ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about the direct line. That was when I remembered what you told me — that it would be a difficult thing."

Glenn had been right. Becoming a direct descendant required recognition from everyone. A Bronze Tablet or a Silver Tablet wouldn't even register.

"Rather than hoard Silver Tablets that won't make any real difference, I decided it would be better to use this one to grow stronger, then start collecting Gold Tablets."

"So it's time to invest?"

"That's right."

"Hmph."

Glenn nodded slowly, as if the matter barely interested him. His expression didn't change. Neither did the atmosphere.

"And what do you intend to take in exchange for that Silver Tablet?"

"A sword art. The site of my graduation exam is Habun Castle. I need an offense-focused swordsmanship that can cut down the monsters that come in endless waves."

"An offensive sword art..."

Glenn nodded and rose from the throne. His gaze swept across the books beside him, then stopped dead on a black volume in the middle.

"This should do."

He flicked his fingers, and the book drifted up like a cloud, floating across the chamber to Raon.

"This is..."

Raon's eyes narrowed. He'd expected Glenn to open that circular archive as before, but Glenn had chosen the book himself. The unexpectedness of it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

It was a sword art he'd never heard of.

"Will you take it? Or would you rather choose for yourself?"

"..."

Raon spread his right hand and ran it over the manual. The rough cover felt, true to its name, like stroking a beast's fangs.

This much, at least, I can count on.

Glenn clearly didn't like him — but as the head of a great house, he never shortchanged a reward. He wouldn't have handed over a flawed or worthless sword art.

"I'll take it."

The name of the sword art appealed to him besides. He nodded at once.

"It will suit you well."

"Thank you. Then I'll—"

"Wait."

Raon had bowed and was about to leave when Glenn raised a hand.

"One question."

"Yes."

"When you heard that the graduation exam would be at Habun Castle, were you not afraid?"

Glenn took a step forward. He wasn't releasing any killing intent, and yet a pressure rolled off him as if a giant were looking down.

"You came here for a sword art, so you clearly know what kind of place Habun Castle is. You never considered refusing?"

"I did not."

Raon shook his head. The thought that it might be dangerous had crossed his mind — but fear, or the idea of refusing, had never even occurred to him.

Without trials, you can't grow stronger.

In his previous life, he'd grown fastest after surviving moments of crisis. In this life, too, hadn't his greatest growth come after fighting the Green Thunder Demon and surviving the Blood-Crazed Demon?

If he were content to grow at an ordinary pace, he could just train alongside everyone else at the practice grounds. If he needed to climb faster and higher than the rest, he had to turn crisis into opportunity.

"I learned something when I clashed with Eden."

"Learned something?"

"Yes. That brief moment of fighting with my life on the line grew me about as much as a full year of training in the practice hall. If I can gain that kind of experience again, I'll only be grateful."

Raon spoke his honest thoughts without dressing them up.

"And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Instructor Rimer isn't the kind of man who would give me a trial I couldn't overcome. It will be hard, and I'll suffer — but I'll grow strong enough that afterward, I'll be glad I went."

"Is that so."

Glenn's expression didn't change. He didn't even nod — and yet the air in the Audience Chamber seemed to lighten, just a little.

"I see. You may go."

"Yes."

Raon offered the formal greeting he'd skipped earlier, then rose.

"Raon Zieghart."

He was opening the door to leave when Glenn called his name.

"...Understood."

It sounded like advice, but he couldn't pin down the exact meaning. He nodded for now.

Glenn waved him off, as if to say that was all. Raon bowed one last time and left the Audience Chamber.

"Hmm-hmm-hmm."

A smug little chuckle drifted out from behind the pillar right beside Glenn's throne.

"That pleased, are you?"

"Of course I am. My disciple understood his master's heart."

Rimer stepped out from behind the pillar, making no effort to hide the smile on his lips.

"He figured out my intentions completely. That's my kind, clever boy. Nothing like that nag Burren or that foul-mouthed Marta. How could I not look after him?"

"I'd say he doesn't match you either, considering you go around insulting your disciples behind their backs."

Glenn snorted, clearly unimpressed by Rimer's beaming face.

"Insults? Please. They're all adorable — I'm just teasing. I cherish every last one of my trainees equally."

Rimer cackled.

"Anyway, Raon figured it out too. That a life-or-death struggle is a huge help when it comes to growing stronger."

"Plenty of people know that. What's rare is someone who knows it and still walks forward without fear."

Glenn looked down at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠center of the Audience Chamber, where Raon had been standing moments before.

There was no fear.

There had been no terror in Raon's eyes. No hunger for glory, despite what his words might have suggested. Only cold composure. A calm resolve to assess the situation and do what could be done.

How does he do it?

That kind of mindset, at that young age — it was a talent Glenn had never seen in all his long years. And the fact that the boy was his own grandson filled him with quiet satisfaction.

"Looks like the Head of House is rather fond of Raon too. The corner of your mouth is twitching."

Rimer's sly voice cut in just as Glenn was thinking pleasantly of Raon.

"You, shut up."

Glenn's brow furrowed. That elf had no sense of atmosphere.

"That aside, you gave him the Mad Fang Sword."

Rimer smiled, glancing toward the archive within.

"You even created an archive that didn't exist before, just to hand him a Gold-Tablet-grade sword art. Your love for your grandson truly knows no bounds."

"You have a remarkably loose tongue."

"That's just how I am. I've actually toned it down, you know."

"Hah..."

Glenn shook his head, thoroughly fed up.

"The Mad Fang Sword is an outstanding art, but it's extremely vicious. Will Raon be able to control it?"

"I gave him the manual. That's the end of it. Whether he masters it, or fails and discards it — that's in his hands."

"Ohh..."

Rimer clapped, as if genuinely impressed.

"You say that, but you still gave him some very pointed advice. A grandfather's love for his grandson really is—"

"That's enough."

Glenn clicked his tongue and raised a hand.

"Urgh!"

The smirking Rimer began sliding toward Glenn as if yanked by a string.

"I went easy on you because you were a patient, and this is how you repay me."

"W-wait a second! Head of House!"

"Your body's recovered some, so a beating should be fine."

Rimer thrashed, but he couldn't resist the force dragging him in.

"Lord Roen! Where did that old man go?! Save m— ghk!"

For the first time in nearly thirty years, the sound of Rimer getting the stuffing beaten out of him echoed through the Audience Chamber.

Raon took the sword manual and returned to the Annex. He didn't even stop by his room — he went straight to the clearing out back and settled in.

Let's see...

He opened the manual. A line of writing, apparently from the author, was inscribed inside.

He didn't know what it meant, but it had a similar feel to the advice Glenn had just given him.

Reading more of something he couldn't parse would only waste time. He flipped to the next page. Explanations of the sword art followed, in writing and illustrations.

Let's read it properly.

He circulated the Ring of Fire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as he studied the manual. Five hours later, he lifted his head, wonder shining in his eyes.

To give me a sword art like this...