Leader of the Light Wind Squad
"A favor, you say."
Glenn's chin lifted by a finger's width. The narrowed slits of his eyes were sharp, as if they meant to strip Rimer's true intent bare.
"I know you've been running around doing nothing but insane things lately. I have no desire to hear it."
"It's not as if I spend every waking moment playing around."
Rimer lifted his head, a faint smile touching his lips. A solemn light shimmered in the crescent of his eyes.
"Speak, then."
"It's about Raon."
"Raon..."
The instant the name left Rimer's mouth, Glenn's back — which had been resting against the throne — rose slightly from the gold.
"Raon's martial prowess sits at Expert Peak-Class. Because he already fights beyond his actual realm, he's strong enough to one-sidedly thrash any other Peak-Class swordsman. Unless they're a Master, there's no one alive who can beat him right now."
"I am aware."
Glenn nodded slowly. The corners of his lips, which had risen without him realizing it, belonged to a grandfather proud of his grandson.
"That's why I'm bringing this up. What would you think of entrusting Raon with a squad of his own?"
"A squad?"
"His martial power may still fall a little short of the other squad leaders, but if he takes command of a unit and completes missions, he'll catch up in no time."
"Hrm..."
Glenn closed his eyes as if arranging his thoughts. When he opened them again, his gaze had settled into a cold, still depth.
"Denied."
"May I ask why?"
"Squad leaders, division leaders, and vice division leaders must be prepared for emergency situations, which means they must be Master-rank at minimum. A vice squad leader, perhaps. But I cannot install a brat who hasn't even reached Master as a squad leader of Zieghart."
He shook his head with absolute finality. Yet woven into that voice was a faint warmth — the concern of a grandfather for his grandson.
"On top of that, that child has never once stood on his own without someone's protection. Here, it was you. At Habun Castle, it was Lord Milland. If he were to grow his experience gradually as a vice squad leader, that would be one thing. Handing him a squad leader's seat is premature — both in terms of martial power and experience."
"I figured as much."
Rimer clicked his tongue and shrugged.
"Hmm, what to do? I'm worried about Raon..."
"You're worried about Raon?"
At those words, Glenn's chin jutted forward.
"Of course I am! How could I not be?"
Rimer held back a laugh, let out a heavy sigh, and looked out the window.
"People from all over Zieghart have already started reaching out, trying to get their hands on him. Iond and Serena even went to see him in person."
"And that's not a bad thing, is it?"
"Depending on the person, it might not be a good thing either."
"Hm?"
"You know Raon grew up in the Annex. He's a pure-hearted kid."
"That's true."
Glenn nodded at once.
"That child knows nothing about the cold political infighting that goes on in this Main House. He spent a year at Habun Castle, but even there, people rarely fight among themselves — they have external enemies to deal with. In other words, when it comes to internal politics, Raon is a complete blank slate."
Rimer spread his arms wide, as if manipulating a marionette on strings.
"Can people who became division leaders because they want to be family head — because they want to climb higher — really guide Raon well? They might lead him in the wrong direction, or assign him warped training and twisted missions."
He muttered that he'd been so worried he couldn't even sleep.
"That... is certainly possible."
Roen nodded slowly, as if in agreement.
"Exactly, Lord Roen. There's every possibility that division leaders and squad leaders will use Raon for their own goals and growth. You never know with people. So at a time like this, it would be wonderful if there were someone who could properly guide him — someone without any ambition for advancement."
"Hrm..."
"Someone of outstanding character, exceptional martial prowess, experience at the highest levels, and a handsome face to boot. Someone like that has to exist, right? Surely they do?"
"......"
Glenn stared down at Rimer in silence.
"I see now. It wasn't Raon you wanted as squad leader. It was you."
"Me? How could I possibly be angling for a squad leader position? Outstanding character, exceptional martial power, experience at the top, and a handsome face? Wait a second! That's me, isn't it? I was right here all along! The squad leader position was mine!"
Rimer clapped his hands, grinning from ear to ear.
"Haa. You really are a madman..."
Glenn covered his forehead with his hand as if his head ached.
"What are you after, Rimer?"
"I simply..."
"Speak honestly."
Glenn's voice sharpened like a honed blade. The pressure in the air was such that a single wrong word might get Rimer cut down on the spot.
"It's a little embarrassing, but I'll tell you properly. I made an oath."
"An oath?"
"The day Raon stood alone against the Crimson Blood Fiend and saved the trainees. I swore I would make that child a king."
Rimer's deep green eyes glittered with unshakable resolve.
"Is that so..."
Glenn nodded, as if he finally understood.
"Very well. I understand your sincerity, and I understand that Raon could grow in the wrong direction. However..."
His eyes once again radiated a chilling light.
"I find myself curious whether you, with your damaged dantian, even have the qualifications to become a squad leader."
"I'm handsome, I'm wise, I'm handsome, I'm good at raising kids, I'm handsome, and I'm great at gambling?"
"Forget that useless nonsense. I need to see how far your martial power actually goes."
"Then test me right here."
Rimer grinned and gripped his sword hilt.
"Confidence. I like that."
Glenn flicked his finger. A smile of genuine amusement crossed his face.
"Come. Show me everything you have."
"I was going to anyway."
Rimer drew his sword. The blade shot out like a flash of light, pointing toward the heavens, while two fingers held straight pointed toward the earth.
Blade to heaven. Fingers to earth. Mind, body, and energy as one.
That day, all sound vanished from the Audience Chamber.
"Latein of the War Sword Squad."
A green-haired man of ordinary height, ordinary looks, and even an ordinary way of speaking offered a light smile. His martial power, however, was anything but ordinary. The energy packed into his dantian seethed like molten lava. This man, too, was a monster who had broken through the wall — just like Iond.
"I can't get a read on your personality, so I'll be honest. The War Sword Squad wants you. If you come to us, I'll raise you with everything I have."
"And what exactly does 'raise me' mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Martial power, mental fortitude, connections — I can even create whatever position you want. I'll invest everything I possibly can."
Latein smiled easily as he promised help on every front. The atmosphere itself was as light as Rimer's, but this man didn't seem genuinely lighthearted so much as he was performing lightness.
"Then what is it that I have to give you in return?"
"......"
Latein's smile stiffened, just slightly.
"Nothing in this world is free. If you're going that far to recruit me, there has to be a reason."
"You understand how the world works. So you're not just some talented little brat. I like you even more."
Even his voice had changed. The cheerfulness it had carried began to twist.
"Of course we want something from you as well — but I can't tell you what that is right now. If you're curious, come find the War Sword Squad. I guarantee it isn't something you'll dislike."
He returned to his original light expression and tone as he held out a small box he had brought with him.
"A small gift. If you join the War Sword Squad, I'll kit you out from head to toe with gear that makes this look like a child's toy."
With that, he left the Annex.
He puts on airs, but he's hollow inside. Not even worth looking at.
Wrath snorted, dismissing the man as trash.
As if anyone would look impressive to you.
Raon watched Latein leave the garden, then turned around. Gifts filled not only his own room but the Annex corridor beyond it.
"There's more than I expected."
After hearing Rimer and Burren, he had figured a fair number of people would come. He hadn't imagined they would pour in like this. It wasn't just the martial units. Intelligence divisions, administrative bodies — even the rarely seen Law Enforcement Hall had moved. There were so many gifts the Annex was bursting at the seams.
"Ohohoho!"
"Hohoho!"
At the sound of laughter so openly delighted it made no attempt to hide itself, Raon looked up. Sylvia and Helen were sorting gifts with flowers of laughter blooming across their faces.
"To think I'd live to see a day like this."
"This is the first time the Annex has ever had this many visitors."
"It's all because Young Master Raon is so outstanding."
"So this is what they mean by riding your child's coattails?"
"It's your blessing, my lady. A blessing."
Sylvia and Helen. No — not just those two. The maids were all savoring the moment. The Annex, which had always been ignored and used as a punching bag, had become the center of attention, and the mere fact that Raon was the one who had made it so seemed to fill them with happiness.
Your mouths are stretched from ear to ear.
If they're happy, I'm happy.
It wasn't a lie. When Sylvia, Helen, and the maids were happy, he was happy too. He didn't know the precise reason. His feelings simply moved that way, and he followed them.
Getting happy over something this trivial. You'll never amount to anything. This King remains unmoved no matter the circumstance...
That's a load of nonsense.
Nonsense?! Who in this world is as cold and composed as This King?! Is the power This King wields not frost itself?!
That's the biggest mystery of all.
How a hot-blooded glutton who rose to every petty provocation had ended up wielding frost was beyond him. His true nature was gluttony and a volcanic temper, yet the energy he used was cold. There was mismatch, and then there was this.
You insolent... Before This King's true form, you wouldn't even be able to crouch, let alone stand...
Then go ahead and bring your true form here.
Guhhh...
Raon finished needling Wrath, went into his room, and approached the wall stacked with gifts.
Let's see what's in here.
He opened the presents inside the room. Most of them were combat gear — gloves, boots, belts, sword tassels, cords for wrapping a hilt.
After roughly sorting the items, he looked at the three boxes sitting on the desk. These were the gifts from the division leaders he had met in person.
This is...
He opened Iond's box first — small, but unmistakably luxurious. Inside was a pair of thin gloves that, even at a glance, were in a different class from everything else.
He pulled them on. They were so light it felt as if he were wearing nothing at all, yet they clung perfectly to his hands. The sensation of gripping a sword was nearly identical to a bare grip, and they were tough enough that a blade wouldn't cut them easily.
"So he didn't come in person for nothing."
Sending something like this as a mere gift made it clear he genuinely wanted to take Raon with him.
"And this..."
Next he opened the box Serena had left. Boots. A pair of brown leather boots sat inside, so light he could barely feel their weight.
"Whoa..."
The moment he put them on, his body felt lighter, as if they had shaved off some of his weight, and he had the distinct sense he could jump higher and farther. This, too, was no ordinary piece of equipment.
Last, he opened the box Latein had given him. A gold ring sat inside. He slipped it onto his finger.
Strength enhancement, is it...
The difference wasn't enormous, but he could clearly feel his power increase. It seemed to be a ring inscribed with a strength-enhancing enchantment.
"Not bad."
As expected of division leaders — their gifts were on another level. He was about to inspect the gear more thoroughly when three knocks sounded at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened without a reply, and Judiel entered, bowing her head.
"I've investigated the units that will appear at the Selection Ceremony."
She held out a booklet as she spoke. As before, it looked as if she had compiled it herself.
"Thank you."
Raon nodded and flipped through it. Just as she had said, it listed most of the units belonging to the house. There was quite a bit he hadn't known, and he read with genuine interest.
"While looking into the Selection Ceremony, I came across something like a superstition."
"A superstition?"
"Yes. It is said that a swordsman chosen by the heads of every martial unit participating in the Selection Ceremony has, without exception, gone on to become family head. In fact, it is recorded that the current Family Head received the choice of every unit."
"Family head, huh..."
Becoming family head wasn't particularly his goal, so he simply nodded, treating it as an amusing story.
"Judiel. What's your take? Which one do you think is best?"
Having finished the booklet, he looked at her.
"Our options are limited, to begin with. Direct-line units and the collateral units that follow them will be difficult to join. We'll have to look elsewhere."
"Our options..."
"Is something the matter?"
"No."
Raon shook his head. Judiel, who had never been able to place her heart anywhere, had used the word we. He was simply a little proud of her.
"There's no need to explain how immense the power of bloodline is in Zieghart. Most of the top martial units are held by the direct line. But there are a few places that don't fall short of them."
Judiel opened the booklet to its middle pages.
"First, the White Lotus Squad led by Iond. It's composed mainly of combat-tested swordsmen who treat the battlefield like their own home, and they take on a great many missions. Iond's martial power is said to rival even the direct line."
She turned the page, noting that this one was decent as well.
"Second, the Empty Sword Squad, whose division leader is Serena — the one who visited yesterday. They primarily use sharp, piercing swordsmanship. She's ambitious, so she takes on a great many missions and commissions, and her reputation grows by the day. The War Sword Squad that came today is a bit calculating, but once they commit, they complete every mission without a single failure. And..."
Judiel moved through the booklet, listing the units worth recommending one by one. In the end, however, the only realistic destinations were the units led by Iond, Serena, and Latein.
"Instructor Rimer said to go somewhere with few people. That way there'd be more chances to earn merit."
Raon relayed what Rimer had told him — omitting, of course, all the nonsense about being handsome and being good at gambling.
"That's also true. Smaller units get dispatched to more places, and most of their members can participate in missions, so there are more opportunities to distinguish yourself. Of course, that also means more danger and more work."
"I see."
To make Sylvia a member of the direct line, he needed to pile up as many accomplishments as possible. Rather than joining a large unit where he couldn't move freely, it would be better to go somewhere small, take part in many missions, and get dispatched to support other units.
"Shall we look into the smaller ones in more detail, then?"
"No. No need."
Raon set the booklet down and shook his head.
"I already know where I'm going."
When that gambler had advertised himself that blatantly, there was no way he could have missed it.
"And I got more gifts than I know what to do with. I'm grateful."
Raon looked at the mountain of presents and smiled faintly.
The day of the Selection Ceremony.
An unprecedented crowd had gathered at the Great Training Ground. Even those off duty or on leave had skipped their rest, come out to the grounds, and squeezed their hips into seats packed to bursting.
The reason was simple.
Which units the trainees of the 5th Training Ground — whose growth had been on a completely different level from ordinary trainees — would join had become a matter of unprecedented interest inside Zieghart.
And above all, the top of that monstrous class: Raon Zieghart.
The boy who had earned the epithets Young Sword Demon and Wall of Fire at Habun Castle, then smashed the Heavy Martial Palace the moment he returned, was drawing so much attention that people were placing bets on where he would go.
To be honest, half the people assembled at the Great Training Ground had come for Raon's Selection Ceremony and little else.
Just as the spectator stands were about to burst at the seams, figures began to ascend the platform above the training ground.
Swordsmen clad in formidable aura and bone-chilling dignity took their seats in turn. Upon their chests were emblems of different shapes and colors.
Squad leaders. Division leaders. The heads of Zieghart's martial units — the house's true strength — began to sit, one after another, upon that towering platform.
It wasn't only Iond and Serena, who had gone to see Raon in person. The Palace Masters of the direct line — the Heavy Martial Palace, Jinmu Hall, the Sacred Sage Hall — also took their places in the chairs set upon the dais.
They exchanged only the briefest of greetings, as if keeping one another in check, then looked down upon the training ground below.
"You're all after Raon, aren't you?"
A cheerful voice rang out just as the division leaders and squad leaders were organizing their thoughts on whom they would take. It was Latein, Leader of the War Sword Squad. Every gaze on the platform turned toward him.
"Seeing him in person made it even more impressive. His presence is so faint you'd think he hadn't learned martial arts at all — and yet the completeness of what's inside him is already approaching Master. That child is going to get stronger. I understand now why not only the Family Head but the elders as well have taken an interest in him."
The division leaders of direct-line origin frowned as if uncomfortable, but those of external origin nodded in agreement.
"Even so, that child is mi— ah. Today's protagonist is arriving."
Latein cut himself off and pointed to the swordsmen of the 5th Training Ground coming through the doors. They wore crimson-black ceremonial robes pinned with the Zieghart crest, and they walked one after another toward the center of the training ground.
Raon was at the end of that line. Dressed in a crimson-black ceremonial robe hung with golden sword tassels, his red eyes gleaming as if they held the light of the sun, he looked like a painting come to life.
"It's Raon!"
"Raon Zieghart."
"What kind of face is that..."
"He feels even stronger, doesn't he?"
"Don't tell me he broke through again?"
"Vice-squad-leader level at seventeen isn't impossible."
The division leaders marveled at Raon's appearance and were stunned by the sword-like, bone-chilling killing intent he radiated. Their eyes glittered a vivid, hungry blue, each with a different meaning, as if they were stalking prey.
Having entered the Great Training Ground, Raon walked with the other swordsmen toward the center.
"Raon!"
"Young master!"
"Young Master Raon!"
He smiled and waved at Sylvia and the maids cheering his name from the far right, then took his place at the very front of the swordsmen.
"R-Raon, sir. Have you decided?"
Dorian's spread fingers trembled.
"The decision isn't ours to make first. It's theirs."
Raon pointed to the squad leaders and division leaders looking down from the platform.
"But you've made up your mind, haven't you?"
"More or less."
"Where?"
"Not up there."
"What?"
At those words, it wasn't only Dorian who flinched. Runaan, Marta, and Burren — who had been listening with their ears pricked — all startled.
"Not there?"
"What the hell are you talking about? They're all here!"
"That's right. Every head of a martial unit is here except the Moonlight Hall, which is out on expedition. Don't tell me you're going into administration?"
The three of them — no, every swordsman nearby — crowded in, demanding to know where he was going.
"What are you thinking?!"
"What kind of insane stunt are you pulling this time?!"
"Just go somewhere normal, would you?"
"The crazy stunt isn't going to be mine. That lazy bastard will be the one pulling it, so don't worry."
Raon calmed the swordsmen pressing in on him and smirked.
"Lazy bastard? Instructor Rimer?"
"What's that gambler got to do with this?"
"If you wait, something interesting will— mmph."
He had been about to drop a small hint when a terrifying force began to surge in from behind. He didn't need to look. It was the absolute presence of this house's master — Glenn Zieghart, the Northern Overlord. The further Raon grew, the more overwhelmingly he felt that aura, and a chill ran down his spine.
The true sky of Zieghart! Family Head Glenn Zieghart, the Northern Overlord, now enters!
"We greet the Family Head!"
At the Heavenly Sword Squad's cry, everyone in the training ground dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
Thud.
Glenn crushed that enormous voice with a single footstep that made the training ground tremble, ascended to the center of the platform, and sat upon the golden throne.
"All of you, rise."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Even the division leaders, who had not spoken a word until now, roared their thanks in magnificent voices, as if they had been reduced to new recruits again.
"Ah, th-then, we shall now begin the Selection Ceremony for the graduates of the 5th Training Ground..."
"Wait."
Just as the master of ceremonies was about to announce the start of the Selection Ceremony, Glenn raised a hand.
"There's still one bastard. No — one person who hasn't arrived."
"Pardon? Ah? All forty-three graduates are present."
The master of ceremonies counted them himself and reported that nothing was amiss.
"Not that side. This side."
Glenn pointed not below the platform, but above it — to where the division leaders and squad leaders sat.
"Pardon? The numbers on that side are also fi—"
"Ah, sorry. That's my seat."
As the flustered master of ceremonies checked his documents, a green gale surged up over the left-hand wall. A tall man with streaming red hair kicked lightly off the wall and landed on the platform in a single bound.
"Rimer!"
"How dare you!"
"What are you doing here?!"
"This is a place only squad leaders and division leaders may stand!"
The division leaders of the direct line, Karun and Balder among them, twisted their faces as if they meant to kill him.
"I know. That's why I came."
Rimer tapped his foot at his leisure and continued.
"Hah!"
"S-squad leader?"
"He became a squad leader?"
At that declaration, every soul in the Great Training Ground stared, eyes wide with shock.
Even on a day like this, that man is late.
Raon, however, merely smirked, as if he had known all along. Everyone was assembled now. The real Selection Ceremony was about to begin.