A Once-in-a-Millennium Talent
"Hah…"
Rimer clapped a hand over his mouth before he even realized he'd moved, but there was no hiding the way it hung open.
What the hell is this?
The match between Raon and Burren had gone according to his plan from the very first beat. The moment he named Raon top trainee, Burren would object, and the two of them would end up sparring. That much, he had seen coming.
A fight that would knock the arrogance out of Burren—who had always believed he stood alone at the top—and put Raon's peculiar brilliance on display for everyone to see. That was the ending Rimer had wanted.
Raon had rewritten every last piece of it.
No—the storyline itself had held. It was the content that had been far too shocking. Raon hadn't won with raw strength, or speed, or technique. He had taken the principles of the Empty Tiger Fist and turned them inside out, and with that reversal he had blown Burren clean off his feet.
How is that even possible…?
Even without a scrap of aura behind it, Burren's talent had been more than enough to bring the Empty Tiger Fist's principles to life. And yet Raon had read the flow of the fist Burren had created, then unfolded that same rotation in reverse.
A child who had never learned a single martial art, doing that. It was the kind of story you'd get slapped for telling in a back-alley tavern.
"Hrm…"
Rimer swallowed dryly and looked around. He wasn't the only one. Everyone in the training ground was staring at Raon with half their soul gone from their faces.
Even the Family Head?
Glenn, who had worn the same blank, statue-still expression through everything, had narrowed his eyes in unmistakable surprise.
"Raon."
Rimer swallowed again and walked toward him.
"Yes, Instructor."
"What did you just do?"
A simple question, and a heavy one. Had he really copied the Empty Tiger Fist from a single look? Had someone taught it to him? Or was it an entirely different fist altogether?
"I could see the rotation in Burren's punches. They were turning in a spiral, like a whirlwind."
That was correct. Spiral rotation was the Empty Tiger Fist's defining nature.
"The spin was fast enough to shove back not just my fists, but even the backs of the hands I used to guard. I knew I couldn't just trade blows with him."
Rimer nodded. He had set the spar up precisely because he wanted to see how Raon would overcome that. Of course he knew.
"I was confident in my stamina, so I considered fighting on the run. But the longer I watched Burren's fists, the more I started to feel something."
"Feel something?"
"Yes. The flow moving through his punches came into my eyes with perfect clarity. I had the sense I could follow it, so I put a reverse spin on my own fists and erased his rotation."
"Ah!"
The sound escaped Rimer before he could stop it.
This kid is the real thing!
His heart slammed against his ribs as if a drum mallet had struck his chest. Reading an opponent's martial art and grasping its flow was already enough to earn the title of genius. Raon had gone past that. He had taken the opponent's flow and made it his own. It was a talent Rimer had never once witnessed in his life—a once-in-a-millennium gift.
"That's absurd!"
Burren's father—Glenn's second son, Karun Zieghart—shot to his feet. A thick fire burned in his eyes.
"No matter how low Burren's realm is, there is no human alive who can grasp the Empty Tiger Fist at a glance!"
"And yet here we are."
Rimer pointed at Raon and shrugged.
"He must have spied on Burren's training and learned it in advance! Or someone told him!"
Karun's murderous gaze swung toward Sylvia and Raon.
"Well, for one thing, I'm far too lazy to have taught him anything. And Raon lives in the Annex—who exactly would have taught him the Empty Tiger Fist? It doesn't add up. Burren isn't the kind of boy who'd just sit still and let someone steal his art, either."
"Nngh…"
Karun's face twisted. He looked like he had plenty left to say, but he kept his mouth shut, glancing toward Glenn.
"Anyone else feel like challenging Raon?"
Rimer raised a hand and looked over the children. After what they had just watched, not a single one of them lifted an arm.
"Runaan?"
"……"
Runaan shook her head, then walked over to Raon's side and began imitating the reverse-spin Empty Tiger Fist he had just shown them.
"Heh."
Rimer let out a short laugh and turned away. The situation had gone nothing like he'd expected, but the result itself was far better.
"Raon. You win."
"Thank you."
Rimer grinned. Raon bowed his head.
"Nothing to thank me for. You did that on your own. The Family Head will see to it you get a plaque of the proper rank."
"Yes."
Rimer gave Raon a once-over as he answered, checking his condition just in case. As expected, there wasn't a trace of aura.
This is genuinely ridiculous.
He let out a small sigh and turned.
"Family Head. We're finished."
Glenn nodded and rose. He studied Raon, Burren, Runaan, and the rest of the children for a long moment, then left the training ground without a word.
"Couldn't even leave them a single piece of advice, huh."
Rimer clicked his tongue and called the children together.
"Those of you who passed, take a week of rest and come back here next Monday. Those who didn't—don't be too disappointed. A second chance will be coming soon enough. Dismissed! Go spend some time with your families."
He clapped his hands once and vaulted over the training ground wall.
"Raon!"
"Young Master Raon!"
The instant he was gone, Sylvia and Helen came running and threw their arms around him.
"W-what on earth just happened?!"
"Young Master, are you hurt anywhere?"
The two of them were exactly the same as always. Not how did you do that, but the endlessly tiresome question of whether his body was all right.
"I'm fine."
Raon smiled and waved it off.
"Let's go home. I want stew. It's been a while."
"Stew? Ah—all right! Let's go!"
"I'll go ahead and start preparing it!"
Helen hurried out of the training ground, and Raon took Sylvia's hand and followed.
"Good heavens…"
"What in the world happened over those six months?"
"Raon Zieghart…"
"To think a talent like that even existed…"
The people left in the training ground stared after Raon and Sylvia with dazed faces.
"Kh…"
And Burren, forgotten in the shadow of everyone else's attention, bit his lip until it bled and stared at the ground.
At the far end of the training ground's outer wall, five men and women stood atop a ledge barely wide enough for a bird to perch. On their chests was the emblem of a sword wreathed in crimson flame.
"What did you make of it?"
The long-haired man sitting in the front row asked.
"A genius. There's nothing else to say."
"If that was real, his talent is beyond even that one's."
"Not just reading the flow—reproducing it. Absurd."
"……"
The four answered with what they had each felt, without dressing it up.
"We came to watch Runaan and Burren, and we got quite the show instead."
The others nodded, as if they agreed.
"You all know the Red Cloud Squad has taken a lot of losses lately. So how about this—you take Burren or Runaan, whichever you like, and Raon, I'll just snatch him up for myse—"
"Do you want to die?"
"You're going to swallow a once-in-a-millennium talent whole, just like that?"
"If you don't want to see blood spilled right here, choose your next words carefully."
"…!"
The air around the four of them turned ice-cold in an instant. They looked ready to draw steel on the spot.
"I-it was a joke. A joke."
The long-haired man waved his hands, his smile gone pale.
"Either way, a great deal is going to change because of that boy."
"……"
The four watched Raon's back as he left the training ground, and agreed in silence.
Even in the eyes of the squads that formed the core of House Zieghart's military might, Raon had begun to register.
Rimer left the remaining work to the other instructors and followed Glenn into the Lord's Palace.
"What was the point of stepping in yourself when you're only getting weaker?"
Glenn sank into the throne, his face drawn in a frown.
"I'm still the head instructor. I have a job to do."
"Lord Rimer."
Roen, the butler who had been waiting in the Lord's Palace, offered him tea.
"It's been a while, Roen."
"Yes."
Roen looked older, but Rimer was in fact the elder of the two, and he spoke to him without formality.
"What exactly were you thinking?"
Glenn rested his chin on a golden armrest.
"Why did you pit Raon against Burren?"
"Well, it just sort of happened…"
"It unfolded exactly as you expected it would. 'Just sort of happened'?"
"Wow. Really can't put anything past you, Family Head."
Rimer scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.
"Burren has outstanding talent, but he's narrow. Raon has something special, but it hasn't been brought into the light. I wanted to give them a spar that would help them both."
"……"
"As you saw, Family Head, Raon's body is still ruled by the cold. But his willpower is already a match for a warrior who has reached a true realm."
"That much, I already know."
"There's something neither of us knew, though."
Rimer lifted a sword-calloused finger and went on.
"His genius. What I actually wanted to see was Raon's mental strength. I wanted to watch how he would answer Burren, a boy who had already learned a formidable martial art."
Rimer's eyes shone as if someone had set stars in them.
"What he showed us this time wasn't willpower. It was talent. And not ordinary talent—a once-in-a-millennium gift. To grasp the flow of an opponent's fist art from a single look and turn it into a counterattack—does that even make sense? I've seen countless battlefields, and I have never seen a talent like that!"
"That quack said something like this once. That a child bound by the Curse of Bitter Cold would possess a special gift."
"By 'quack,' you mean the Saint of Rags?"
"Yes."
Glenn nodded and continued.
"He said they would either show a unique talent for ice magic or ice aura, or else come into a beauty that could bring a nation to its knees."
"That's exactly it!"
Rimer stamped his foot with a thud.
"That gift just revealed itself! That boy was born with an absolute talent for martial arts!"
"Hrm…"
Rimer was practically glowing. Glenn's expression remained even.
"I had never seen anything like it either. Not even among the squad commanders."
Roen, who had watched the spar at Glenn's side, spoke in a voice still edged with wonder.
"We have to raise that child properly. The bronze plaque has already gone to Raon, but if you would grant him a reward beyond even a silver plaque…"
"That will not happen."
Glenn shook his head, his gaze hard.
"Your childish little scheme is the reason Raon will be receiving a gift at all. Raising the rank of the reward on top of that would not be just."
"Eh?! But—"
"You don't need to fuss over that child from start to finish, either. Treat them all fairly."
"You really are ice-cold, you know that… nngh!"
Glenn's chilly stare made Rimer flinch and shut his mouth.
"Anyway, Raon is the real thing. Don't just wrap him up and coddle him because his body's weak—raise him properly. He may well stand above your second grandson, the one they called a once-in-a-century genius, and even above House Sullion's eldest. Give it some thought."
"You've grown talkative."
"That's because I saw the real thing."
"Even so, there will be no favoritism. Not unless that child raises the name of this house."
"Come on, at least a highest-grade elixir that could clear the cold, or a cultivation method…"
Rimer closed his mouth the instant Glenn raised a hand.
"The quack said using any more fire-attribute elixirs would be the wrong approach. That the boy would have to overcome it himself."
"Wow! You pretended you didn't care, and you looked into all of it!"
"Nonsense. That chatterbox just wouldn't stop running his mouth."
"Oh…"
"Hrm!"
Rimer and Roen both looked at Glenn with thoroughly sly expressions.
"Anyway."
Glenn clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers. Golden flame flared up behind him, and the iron door of the Zieghart Treasury rose from the floor.
"I'll be putting the treasury in order. The two of you, go."
With that, Glenn walked inside.
Left behind in the Lord's Palace, Rimer and Roen looked at each other and grinned. There was no chance he had gone in to organize the treasury. Not now.
"He still can't be honest, can he."
Raon returned to the Annex and caught up with Sylvia on everything that had happened.
He didn't say much himself, but Sylvia was curious about so many things that the conversation never found an end. By the time he made it back to his room it was midnight; they must have talked for more than six hours.
Exhausting.
Raon shut the door and let out a breath. Time spent with Sylvia put his heart at ease, but it was harder than training.
Ahem. That was a satisfactory meal, for the first time in a long while. From now on, you will prepare This King's meals here every day.
Wrath, it seemed, had taken a liking to the Annex's cooking and snacks. For once, he wasn't angry.
This King never wants to look at that dog food from the training ground again.
"Sorry, but you're going to have to keep eating that."
He was a formal trainee now. He wouldn't be leaving that place for years.
Goddamn it!
Wrath ground his teeth. A parasitic Demon King who was picky about flavor. What an absurd creature.
Come to think of it, there was something This King meant to ask you.
"Ask me?"
Raon Zieghart. What is your true identity?
Wrath, who had been hanging from Raon's arm, returned to the form of a blue flame.
This King has seen more humans than can be counted, and has lived in a human body for more than several hundred years. And yet This King has never seen one like you.
Wrath's fire roared as if it might explode. It burned hotter than it had at their first meeting.
This King can feel it. There is something special in you. Speak. Your identity—
"Hey, Wrath."
A mere human will not speak This King's name so casually.
"There's something more important than my identity or your name."
What…
"Your memory's worse than I thought."
Raon looked down at Wrath, the corner of his mouth curling up.