The Lowest Rank Rises
A blade-sharp killing intent poured from the Lord's Palace of Zieghart, as though a colossal sword were being honed within its walls.
Glenn Zieghart, master of that magnificent estate, sat upon his throne and narrowed his eyes.
Come to think of it…
Before that quack who had earned the name Saint of Rags departed, he had said something.
He mentioned there were cases of special talent.
Pedrick had said that among children born with the constitution known as the Curse of Extreme Cold, there were those who possessed a unique gift.
Has that talent manifested?
If it hadn't, there was no way Raon—whom he had expected to drop out at once—could still be holding on.
"Hrm…"
Glenn let out a heavy breath. It was a face the man revered as the Martial God of the North could never show before others.
A mistake. An enormous one.
In the past, when he had transcended the realm of humanity, his emotions had dried up like desert sand. To Sylvia, born during that period, he had given none of the familial affection he had shown his other children. He had not been a father. He had been a handler, assigning her duties and nothing more.
The youngest, who received neither a father's affection, a mother's love, nor any warmth between siblings, had lived like a marionette on tangled strings until she left the family with a man she had met outside.
Back then, I truly felt nothing.
He had known that sibling rivalry and insubordination among his subordinates had been among the reasons Sylvia left, but he had not cared. At the time, he had no interest in what became of her. All he thought about was growing stronger—making the family greater.
Five years later, only after he crossed the wall of the demonic and reclaimed his human emotions, did he understand. He had committed an irreversible, colossal mistake.
He had sent guards belatedly and managed to save Sylvia and the unborn Raon, but his son-in-law and granddaughter had been reduced to blood without him ever seeing their faces.
Pathetic.
He bit his lip, disgusted with himself. The Head of Zieghart. The Northern Overlord. The King of Swords. No title in the world could turn back the past.
The emotional chasm with Sylvia was deep beyond measure, and mending it was impossible.
Raon.
That was why he had resolved to protect his youngest grandson no matter what. Even if Sylvia and Raon came to hate him for it.
Knock, knock.
Just as he renewed that vow, a knock came at the door.
"Huu…"
Glenn wiped the weary look from his face, letting a cold, oppressive aura spill from him as he spoke.
"Enter."
Raon entered the indoor training hall, settling his excited breathing.
Feels like my body's finally loosening up.
Thanks to two weeks of consistent training, he had risen to the same level as the middle group in most exercises. At this rate of growth, he might reach Burren or Runaan's level before the exam.
Shall we start today as well.
The moment he picked up a shoulder-training apparatus, Runaan approached from his left.
"Mmph!"
With a vacant expression that looked as though she might start drooling, she began lifting a weight far heavier than her own.
That vacant-faced girl is here again.
Leave her be.
She wasn't causing any harm, so he ignored her and continued training—when this time, someone sat down on his right.
"S-sorry. Am I bothering you?"
A round-faced trainee with a pouch stuck to his belly scratched his head. He was the only one who ever spoke to him.
Dorian, was it.
He always cowered and flinched at Rimer's orders, but he had outstanding persistence and was quick on his feet.
"Would you like one?"
Dorian pulled a round cookie from his Belly Pouch again and held it out.
"Uh…"
Raon took it without thinking. As he was about to give it back, he felt an intense gaze from the side. Runaan's purple eyes were sparkling like a snowfield.
That's the first time This King has seen that vacant girl make eyes like that.
Does she like cookies?
Her gaze was locked on the cookie.
"Want it?"
"……"
Raon held out the cookie in his hand to Runaan. She hesitated like a wild cat, twitching her fingers, then snatched it away.
"…Thanks."
She thanked Raon and Dorian in turn, then bit into the cookie the way a rabbit nips at grass. Whether it was tasty or not, her stiff lips softened.
A cat when she took it, a rabbit when she ate, a vacant-eyed puppy the rest of the time. A peculiar one in many ways.
"Um, Raon?"
Dorian tucked the remaining cookies into his pouch and turned his head.
"Would it be all right if I trained next to you as well?"
He said he wanted to pick up some of the form.
"I don't mind."
Raon nodded. His own rapid growth was thanks to the Ring of Fire and the experience of his previous life. Having someone copy his form beside him was no issue.
"Thank you!"
"Nothing to thank me for."
He waved off Dorian's gratitude and focused on training again.
As he concentrated to the utmost, driving stimulation through his muscles, he heard an apparatus moving at the same speed and range from Dorian. The same from Runaan on his left.
Odd bunch.
This King rather likes that green raccoon of a fellow.
Why?
Did he not bow his head to This King? It is the first homage This King has received since awakening.
……
Raon was about to point out that the bow hadn't been directed at him, then decided it would be too much trouble and held his tongue.
Now I've got three kids.
Week five. Raon overtook the middle pack in the dawn run and joined the upper-middle group. That evening, during free training, one more person had appeared at his side besides Runaan and Dorian.
Week ten. Raon ran at the very front of the upper-middle group, and that evening another trainee attached himself to his side.
Week fifteen. Raon entered the top group. The results of the six people stuck to his side soared vertically as well.
Four months had passed since the temporary training at the Fifth Training Ground began.
The training Rimer assigned grew steadily more varied, and its difficulty climbed without end. Sessions that started at dawn stretched until evening, and even the faces of the top-group children with outstanding stamina began to show exhaustion.
Of course, the basic framework never changed. The training from dawn to afternoon under Rimer's direction, and the personal training from evening onward—all of it was voluntary. Even if you gave up mid-session because it was hard, even if you skipped free training entirely, Rimer and the instructors showed no reaction whatsoever.
If you asked for form or guidance, they taught you precisely—but that was all. There were no words like "try harder" or "be consistent." They looked less like instructors and more like observers.
A training method that left everything to the autonomy of twelve- and thirteen-year-old children. Innovative, if you wanted to call it that.
In practice, the collaterals confident in their skill and the recommended trainees did not give their all in training, and they did not participate in free training at all. They believed they could become official trainees just fine without doing that low-level work.
There was, however, one catalyst that changed those children's behavior.
Raon Zieghart.
The boy infamous in the worst sense had begun to bring a positive change to the Fifth Training Ground.
When training first started, Raon's stamina had been in the bottom ranks. In the first run he had merely finished, never reaching the middle pack, his face gone deathly white as if he were about to die.
But he endured. He lasted through training that even children with good stamina dropped out of, and he started free training first and finished last. Raon trained his body to the end even as he gasped for breath and exhaled white steam, and the very next day he showed the results of that work.
Stamina, strength, agility—all grew visibly, and his ranking, once at the bottom, now reached tenth out of one hundred and sixty.
The children who had watched this with their own eyes were stunned. The children of the collaterals and vassal families, the recommended trainees, no longer took it easy. They trained with everything they had, and they participated in free training without fail.
The boy they had thought of as nothing but a punching bag had become a rival.
Of course, there were children who were different. The direct descendant Burren and the collaterals who followed him ignored extreme stamina training as unnecessary, practicing the sword and fist techniques they had learned from their families.
And so the time each of them spent giving their all flowed by like water.
"Huff!"
Raon exhaled roughly as he ran at dawn. Time had passed and his stamina and agility had increased considerably, but since he always ran at full power, the exhaustion never changed.
Still, something's different.
The countless backs of children who had blocked his path in the first run were no longer in sight. Thanks to his risen stats and the Ring of Fire, fewer than ten trainees remained ahead of him.
Pathetic. A month has passed, and still so many maggots crawl before you.
Growing this fast is already impressive.
Wrath was the same as ever. Still nothing but complaints, screaming every day for Raon to hand over his body.
I thought I'd catch them soon, but those two are definitely different.
Raon's gaze turned to Runaan and Burren, running farthest ahead. He had felt it from the start—those two were on a different level from the other children. Born with the finest talent, their mental fortitude was solid, and they had received thorough family education, never slacking in their effort. They had their twisted corners, but they were only twelve. Nothing particularly strange about that.
Shall I push a little harder today.
Raon operated the Ring of Fire to its maximum and kicked off the ground. His lungs felt as though they would tear into scraps of paper and scatter, but he used the Ring of Fire as a brace and kept running.
"Wh-what!"
"Raon Zieghart!"
"Damn!"
The top-group children he had overtaken in an instant bulged their eyes.
At the sound of wind rushing from behind, Burren and Runaan also looked back.
"Nngh…"
"……"
Burren furrowed his brow like tree bark, while Runaan's eyes sparkled like a cat that had discovered a jewel. The two turned their heads forward again and started running as if to say, catch us if you can.
They're definitely different. Different, but…
Raon looked at their backs and faintly lifted the corners of his mouth.
The time remaining should be enough.
At his current growth rate, by the time of the exam he should be able to surpass both of them in stamina, strength, and agility. Of course, if they used aura, that would be another matter.
Aura…
Runaan, Burren, and the other children of the direct line, the collaterals, and the vassal families were already practicing aura cultivation methods. He, on the other hand, was practicing the Ring of Fire—a cultivation art unmatched in a thousand years—but he did not have a single grain of aura.
I do need to learn it…
The time to learn aura was approaching, so he was a little conflicted.
The old one isn't bad.
The Shadow Aura cultivation method he had learned in his previous life was a fairly good one. It could be learned quickly, it was stealthy and sharp, and it excelled in assassination and combat against people.
But.
He could not become the best with the Shadow Aura cultivation method. Having decided to live as a martial artist rather than an assassin, he needed to learn an aura cultivation method beyond that.
Which means I'll need to earn merit.
The Glenn he had seen so far and the Glenn he had heard about in intelligence reports were the same. A cold-blooded man who thought only of the family. Precisely because of that, he was a man of certain rewards and punishments. If Raon finished basic training in first place, Glenn would surely give a reward befitting that.
My goal is clear again.
To restore Sylvia to her original place, to learn a proper cultivation method, he needed to train even harder.
What are you doing. Do not be satisfied with overtaking those maggots—catch those two. Running ahead of This King is intolerable.
Wrath's rage surged, and Raon's chest heaved. He clenched his teeth and kept running, and after a long while a message appeared.
You have endured the stimulus of Wrath.
Stamina stat has increased.
Urgh, again!
Raon nodded as he looked at Wrath throwing a fit.
While making good use of this guy, too.
"That's it for today's training. Those who want free training, do it. Those who don't, don't."
After finishing the afternoon session, Rimer left the training ground without hesitation. He hummed a tune, muttering that he was going for a drink.
"Huff…"
Burren exhaled an irritated breath as he watched the man's retreating back.
I really can't stand this.
He knew Rimer had been called the Mad Sword, but lately the man was no different from a wastrel. Even during official training hours he sprawled out and watched halfheartedly, and he had no interest in free training. And with that attitude he was going to administer the exam to become official trainees? He looked less like an elf and more like a grasshopper that just hopped around.
"Young Master Burren. Won't you be doing free training today?"
As he was frowning at the back of Rimer's head, Crain and the collateral children approached cautiously. They had grown quite close.
"I will."
Burren nodded and took up a wooden sword. A smile formed at the pleasant hardness of the hilt.
"Let's begin."
"Yes!"
Burren and the collateral children spread out and practiced the swordsmanship they had learned before coming here. Burren lost himself in sword training and only set down his blade after the sun had fully set.
As expected, I feel most at ease when practicing the sword.
Training with the swordsmanship his father had personally taught him settled his irritated mood.
"That's enough for today."
"Yes!"
"Thank you for your hard work."
At Burren's instruction, the children bowed their heads with proper courtesy. He was the youngest among them, but thanks to his position as a direct descendant and his absolute talent, he had naturally risen to the position of leader.
"Those who want additional training, follow me."
Burren set down the wooden sword and entered the indoor training hall. Then he frowned.
That bastard.
Raon was doing strength training with the equipment, and Runaan and several trainees were stuck right beside him.
"Huu…"
Burren exhaled a sigh laced with heat. The truth was, what really made him angry wasn't Rimer or the instructors.
Raon Zieghart.
The lowest-ranked nobody in the family, whom he had not even paid attention to, was starting to get more and more on his nerves.
Why are they sticking to that guy?
Runaan. He could not understand why the daughter of Sullion—said to be the strongest among the vassal families, with talent matching his own as a direct descendant—had attached herself to Raon.
Damn it.
Runaan, whom he had considered a rival, had no interest in him and only followed Raon around, and it made his insides boil. Lately even the recommended trainees he had thought reasonably well of were gathering beside Raon, which irritated him further.
"Don't mind them. They're just a bunch of incompetents huddling together."
"Even if they're the best, I guess a vassal family can't help it."
"What do they think they're going to accomplish gathering like that."
The collaterals snorted as they looked at Raon and Runaan, but Burren did not laugh. Honestly speaking, Runaan's talent was far superior to the collaterals behind him. That much was certain.
"Tsk."
Burren clicked his tongue and entered the training hall. He went to the spot next to Raon and Runaan, who were training their lower bodies, and lifted a weight heavier than both of them.
"Ohh!"
"As expected of Young Master Burren!"
"How is he lifting that kind of weight…"
Not just the collaterals, but everyone in the training hall burst into admiration and applause. He received gazes filled with awe and shock, but Burren's expression hardened like tree bark.
Those bastards!
Because Raon and Runaan did not even look his way and just kept training.
Burren slammed the equipment down with a heavy thud and stood, but the two did not even turn their heads. As if they had made each other rivals, they poured their entire focus into lifting the weights.
"Khh…"
Burren's face flushed red as an apple. He yanked the door open with a bang and left the training ground.
Let's see if you can keep that look on your face when I take first place by an overwhelming margin!