Glenn Zieghart.
"Glenn Zieghart."
The golden-haired old man they called the Lord looked up at Glenn, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"I trust I need not explain why I have come."
"Why you've come, is it…"
Glenn gazed down at the old man and gave a faint shake of his head.
"The deal with the dragons was already concluded."
"You know full well, and still you play word games. That is unlike you."
A thin thread of anger colored the old man's eyes, as though he were delivering a reprimand.
"Unlike me? Were we ever close enough to discuss what is or isn't like me?"
Glenn rested his chin on the back of his hand and smiled, cold as frost.
A nuisance has arrived.
The golden-haired elder before him was a dragon. Not just any dragon — the Dragon Lord, who commanded every last one of them. He never brought good news when he came, and looking at that face was enough to sour Glenn's mood.
"Hah. Very well. I shall say it myself."
The Dragon Lord clicked his tongue and drew himself up, spine and neck aligning into a posture so elegant it seemed nobility itself had been poured into his frame.
"As I have told you before, your martial power is enough to shatter the balance of this continent. Enough even to surpass us dragons, the mediators of this world."
He looked at Glenn with something like resentment in his gaze.
"I do not know how a human — your ancestor, and now you — came to possess such strength. But that power is misaligned."
"Misaligned?"
"The more you wield it, the more it tears at the axis of the world. It is a force that even causality cannot contain."
"Don't the dragons' powers break the balance as well? A curious thing to hear from the strongest race on the continent."
Glenn snorted, looking the Dragon Lord over.
"We have accumulated our strength slowly, over vast stretches of time. We are not like you, who reach the heavens in a span of less than a hundred years."
The Dragon Lord traced a long, slow line through the air with one finger, his brow furrowing.
"So I should sit here and do nothing even when my own blood is kidnapped? Even when I have the power to save them?"
"You must take the broader view. Blood kin are, in the eyes of the world, no more than specks of dust. What one who has reached the heavens ought to consider is the greater cause — the flow and balance of the world."
"What a load of shit."
"I beg your pardon…?"
"I said it's bullshit."
Glenn's smile deepened, and a murderous aura thick enough to choke on unfurled from his body.
"You dragons swarm out and wipe entire races off the map the moment a hatchling is hunted or so much as injured — and you have the gall to lecture me?"
A hatchling was a young dragon not yet five hundred years old, under the protection of every dragon alive. Kingdoms and houses that had laid a hand on one had been annihilated by dragonkind more than once.
"Th-that is…"
The Dragon Lord could not answer. His eyes tightened.
"We are not humans! Dragons bear the sacred duty of guarding this continent's balance and mediating its distortions, and so—"
"So in the end it's the same double standard. Fine for you, forbidden for us. A curious thing to hear from the continent's guardians and mediators. Then again, you've always been like this — that's how you let that one get away last time. Or rather, how he escaped."
"Kh…"
"The greater cause. The balance of the continent. I played along with that silver tongue of yours before. Not this time."
Glenn's gaze, already cold, turned truly chilling as it locked onto the Dragon Lord.
"My grandson is worth more than hundreds of your hatchlings. I have no regrets about what I did. Close your mouth and get out."
"You know this well enough."
The Dragon Lord did not yield. He bit down on his lip.
"You do not have much time left. Thanks to this incident, that already brief span has grown even shorter."
"……"
"Glenn Zieghart. The cause you leave behind will become a colossal consequence, and it will crash down upon this house. Even now, if you would only think—"
"More bullshit."
Glenn's dry voice stopped the words in the Dragon Lord's throat.
"Every scrap of karma I have piled up, I will carry myself. I will pass it to no one."
"I-if you do such a thing, even you—"
"I don't care if I never reach the heavens."
There was not the slightest tremor in his grave, unwavering eyes.
"I have never walked a path that was decided for me. Not then. Not now."
"Nnh…"
"One more thing."
Glenn's gaze settled on the Dragon Lord. From those deeply sunken eyes, a killing pressure sharp enough to raise the hair on one's neck came pouring out.
His hand drifted toward his sword hilt, as if he were ready to fight then and there.
"Hah. So it comes to this after all. We have no intention of fighting you. However…"
The Dragon Lord exhaled a long sigh and raised a finger. Behind him, space split open the same way it had when he first appeared, a dimension peeling apart.
"Ignore my counsel, and you will surely come to regret it, Glenn Zieghart."
He shook his head slowly and vanished into the rift.
"Regret?"
Glenn looked at the empty space where the Dragon Lord had disappeared and let out a cold laugh.
"I have always carried my regrets."
A sharp crack split the air.
The black orbs that had swallowed the training ground fractured apart, and Raon and Dokoe burst out at the same instant.
"Hrm."
Dokoe frowned at the fading Sword Realm.
"I increased the number of hidden blades, and he adapted even faster…"
He had opened the Sword Realm more seriously than in their first bout, and Raon had dismantled it far more easily than before. It was so absurd he could only laugh under his breath.
It's not just that he's gotten stronger.
He's closing in on the Sword Realm itself.
The boy had even pinpointed the positions of blades Dokoe had specially concealed so they couldn't be caught by sound. That meant Raon hadn't merely climbed in realm and aura — he had taken a genuine step toward the true meaning of Sword Realm Manifestation.
There's no word for it but monster.
Raon was a nineteen-year-old brat. Other people his age were barely managing to throw out sword-light, and this freak had not only reached Mid-rank Master but was already approaching the Sword Realm. It felt as though Dokoe's soul were being yanked straight out of his body.
"You. What the hell did you do in Eden?"
No matter how he turned it over, this was not the power level of someone who'd been kidnapped. It was as if the boy had swallowed elixirs and taken sword instruction from someone on top of it.
"Well…"
Raon looked at the flustered Dokoe and offered a faint smile.
"Looking back on it now, I suppose you could call it training."
He had wrung two elixirs out of Merlin, honed his live-combat instincts fighting the Gold Masked Snake, and even absorbed a soul by wearing a mask. Strictly speaking, it was no exaggeration to say he had trained harder there than he ever had at home.
"Hah. My head hurts. I've had enough. Enough."
Muttering that he needed a drink, Dokoe left the training ground.
"Hrm."
Raon lowered the Heavenly Sky Sword and let out a breath.
A little disappointing.
He had just started to get into it, and it was already over. The aftertaste was slightly bitter. He wanted to swing his sword a while longer.
I should go find the squad leader tomorrow.
Ear-boxer?
Yeah. It'd be nice to loosen up a bit — see how much my aura's grown.
…
Wrath slowly closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer for Ear-boxer's soul.
Another funeral dirge is about to start.
I'll go easy on him.
This King will stake his name on it. The difference between your "easy" and Ear-boxer's "easy" is on the level of mint chocolate versus cookies and cream.
Cookies and cream is better, though?
What drivel is that! Mint chocolate wins, obviously!
I don't think so.
He was about to start sword practice on his own, still bickering with Wrath, when the training ground door opened again and Chad, master of the Biyeon Assembly, stepped inside.
"Master Chad?"
"Young Master Raon. It has been some time."
Chad approached with a thin smile.
"Yes. It has."
Raon bowed his head, studying Chad as he did. The man wouldn't meet his eyes properly, and his expression was awkward.
Come to think of it…
When Chad had given him information on Gransavil, there hadn't been a word about the 10th Apostle — not even the 7th. He had probably suffered for it after the kidnapping.
It wasn't really the Biyeon Assembly's fault, though.
Even Denning Rose, the Black Market's Gransavil branch manager, hadn't known the Apostles and Merlin were there. It was only natural that the master of the Biyeon Assembly, stationed this far away, wouldn't have known they existed.
That said…
He still couldn't bring himself to trust Chad. There were simply too many things about the man's behavior that invited suspicion.
"I am sorry."
Chad bowed his head at once, the dignity of his office nowhere to be seen.
"I should have investigated more thoroughly. My mistake caused you great trouble, Young Master. I am truly, deeply sorry!"
"It's all right."
Raon waved a hand. He had expected an apology, but not one this formal.
"Even the Black Market people didn't know. There's no way the Biyeon Assembly could have known about the 10th Apostle or Merlin."
"Even so! As master of the Biyeon Assembly, I failed to handle the matter properly!"
Chad bent at a perfect right angle, his head hanging low.
I absolutely cannot afford to get on his bad side!
This incident had confirmed it. The person the Patriarch cherished most in the entire house was not a son or a daughter — it was his youngest grandson, Raon Zieghart. Cross this young man, and being master of the Biyeon Assembly wouldn't save you. You'd be a headless corpse by morning.
"Please, don't do this."
Raon caught Chad by the shoulders and forced him upright.
This man really is strange.
As he'd said, this wasn't the Biyeon Assembly's fault. An apology was one thing, but there was no need to go this far.
He seems to be doing this to earn my trust, but…
The more Raon thought about it, the more excessive Chad's words and actions felt. Suspicion was inevitable.
Karun? Balder? Or maybe someone else in the direct line.
The wars abroad were over. It was entirely possible someone would start stirring up trouble from inside the house again.
"Please accept this."
Chad held out a wooden case.
"This is…"
"A tonic. It fortifies both stamina and mental fortitude. I heard you had fully recovered, but I brought it just in case."
He also drew a booklet from his robes.
"I've written down the people and situations to watch for at this Six Kings Meeting. Please use it as a reference!"
"Ah…"
"Then I shall take my leave."
Chad bowed once more and turned away.
Good. Perfect.
The mistake itself couldn't be helped, but the follow-up had been flawless. Judging by Raon's expression, it had landed well.
Of course it did.
An expensive tonic, plus intelligence on the Six Kings Meeting — there was no way anyone wouldn't be pleased.
Satisfied with the result, Chad left the Fifth Training Ground.
Raon watched Chad's receding back, his brow furrowing.
Strange, isn't it?
There is no such thing as a free gift in this world. When someone who is not even close to you treats you this well, that one should be your first priority to watch.
Wrath muttered that Chad was off, too.
Thought so.
Even during his assassin training, there had been a rule: never trust kindness given without reason.
Raon turned the tonic Chad had given him over in his hands, eyes narrowing.
Chad…
He's someone I need to watch.
One week later.
Swordsmen stood in formation along both sides of House Zieghart's main gate — an honor guard to see Glenn off on his departure for Owen.
Hrm…
Raon had finished his own preparations and stood at the center, looking back at the Light Wind Squad.
Marta looks all right.
Whatever he had said to her seemed to have helped. There was no trace of surrender or despair about her. If anything, she looked more alive than usual.
Burren and Runaan are the same as ever.
Burren was grinning just from the fact that he was attending the Six Kings Meeting. Runaan had shed that sharp-edged look and was staring blankly up at the sky the way she used to. A small butterfly landed on her head and she didn't so much as twitch, which was a relief.
But these guys…
Have they been training this whole time?
He hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of them at the training ground for two weeks and had assumed they'd been loafing. Not even close. In that short span, every swordsman in the Light Wind Squad had risen in both aura and realm. The improvement was so obvious they clearly hadn't been sleeping properly.
Incredible.
Looking at what they'd achieved, he almost wondered if he was the one who'd been slacking. Admiration and pride welled up together.
No need to think of it as incredible.
Wrath looked down at the Light Wind Squad from atop Raon's head and shook his head.
Those who come to know their own powerlessness, and then set out to overcome it, always grow stronger.
Powerlessness?
They watched you get kidnapped right in front of their eyes, did they not? The despair of that moment became the engine driving those fledglings.
…Is that so.
Understanding why the Light Wind Squad had kept swinging their swords even through their rest days, Raon felt his chest grow hot.
"The Patriarch emerges!"
At the magnificent voice from behind, the swordsmen flanking the path and those waiting to depart all dropped to one knee.
"We greet the Patriarch!"
Raon knelt as well and bowed his head. Footsteps laden with the Path of Supremacy passed beside him. The formidable martial pressure that grew more overwhelming the stronger Raon himself became washed over his shoulders and raised goosebumps along his skin.
"Rise."
As always, Glenn took the lead and mounted his horse. Raon had noticed it before — this was a commander who stood at the front of his people and carved the path himself. The exact opposite of Derus Robert, who always sent his subordinates ahead first.
"I do not ask for much."
Glenn looked back. His crimson eyes were calm and settled.
"Simply show them what Zieghart holds."
With that, he moved forward. Roen followed on his left, Sheryl on his right. The Heavenly Sword Squad raised a vast surge of sword-light as they guarded him. The way they followed Glenn with blind, unquestioning loyalty looked, to Raon, like the Light Wind Squad following him.
Raon looked at Glenn at the very front and clenched his fist.
I have no intention of becoming Patriarch. But I want to become someone like him.
It wasn't his absolute martial power Raon wanted to emulate. It was the way he fought at the very front, leading his comrades with his back.
Raon carved Glenn's back into his eyes and his mind, and stepped forward.
"Wooooaaaah!"
"Long live Zieghart!"
"Glenn Zieghart!"
"Northern Annihilation King! Northern Annihilation King! Northern Annihilation King!"
When they arrived at Tortin City, just outside the Owen Kingdom, the citizens poured out to cheer Zieghart's name — or rather, Glenn Zieghart's name. Every gaze in the crowd was fixed on Glenn alone. He had single-handedly crushed the White Blood Cult Leader and Fallen Heaven, walking disasters to ordinary people. Of course they roared for him.
The Zieghart swordsmen crossed the city with pride in every step, as if the praise directed at Glenn were praise for themselves.
"Yeaaaaaah!"
"Northern Annihilation King! Northern Annihilation King!"
"Glenn Zieghart!"
Glenn had been heading for their lodgings without reacting to the cheers or the waving hands. Then he turned. He looked at Raon and gestured for him to come forward.
"You called for me."
Raon fell in beside Glenn, matching his stride.
"Do you hear this cheering?"
"Yes."
"The reason they cry Zieghart's name right now is entirely because of me."
Glenn looked over the crowd with cold eyes.
"They cheer because I crushed the White Blood Cult Leader and Fallen Heaven."
He was right. Most of the cheering was Glenn's name.
"Then what happens if I am gone?"
"That is…"
Raon couldn't tell exactly what he was being asked, so he held his tongue for a moment.
"That cheering will be trampled into the dirt, and the malice that was crushed beneath Zieghart — no, beneath me — will rise like wildfire. If all of them turn their blades on Zieghart, what will you do?"
"……"
Raon slowly closed his eyes. Glenn seemed to be thinking about what would come after his own death. Raon didn't know why the question was being put to him, but he used it as a chance to sort through the thoughts that had been rising in him lately, and pictured that future.
In the past, I would have left.
Before the Eden kidnapping, he would have taken the people of the Annex and walked away from the house. Zieghart had meant nothing to him then.
But it's different now.
This incident had changed the Zieghart lodged in his mind in a fundamental way. The house, and the people. He had left the Annex behind and become inseparable from the name Zieghart itself. If the house disappointed him, he would cut away the rotten parts — but he would not leave.
Then I should do what I do best.
However small the contribution, he wanted to do something that would help this house.
"I'll grind them."
"Grind them? What do you mean?"
"I'll work every swordsman in this house to the brink of death and make them strong. Not so the world fears one Patriarch named Glenn Zieghart — so it fears the name Zieghart itself."
Raon looked at the slowly sinking sun and smiled faintly.
"Does that mean you intend to become Patriarch yourself?"
"I have no such intention. I will simply do what needs to be done from where I stand."
He had genuinely no interest in the Patriarch's seat, and shook his head without hesitation.
"Is that so."
Glenn gave a stiff little nod and turned his gaze away, as if the matter no longer concerned him.
Hrm…
Raon clicked his tongue softly and fell back into line.
Didn't sit well with him, I guess.
It couldn't be helped. He had spoken honestly, and he didn't regret it.
That night.
A tremendous rumble rolled through the hills encircling Tortin City.
"Hah…"
Glenn leaned his back against a massive boulder split cleanly in two and let out a thin breath.
"How is he so wise."
He had asked Raon about the future expecting only one answer: that the boy would grow strong enough to become the house's wall himself. A tired answer, but the one that fit the moment best. Anyone would have said it.
Raon had been different.
I'll grind them all…
Not that he would grow strong alone, but that he would grow strong together with the others. The words of someone who meant to rise as a house, not as an individual, had set Glenn's chest pounding.
That was the goal I only reached after my enlightenment.
The true aim Glenn himself had wandered so long to find — Raon had already arrived there. The joy of it was so great he could barely keep from laughing. He had to hold himself back from pulling the boy into a crushing embrace.
"Is he not a truly admirable child?"
"He is."
"Of course."
Sheryl and Roen, standing to either side of him, nodded at the same time.
"It seems Raon came to understand what a house truly is through this incident."
Sheryl smiled, her expression soft.
"Yes. He is growing not only in martial power, but in spirit as well. I find myself looking forward to what comes next even more."
Roen, too, looked at Glenn and let out a warm, delighted laugh.
"I don't say this because he is my grandson — that boy is going to become someone great. Everyone ought to know what kind of child Raon is."
Glenn frowned, as if the thought irritated him.
"Write down what he said today. Those are words that could serve as an example to all."
"Hah…"
Rimer looked at Glenn and heaved a long, deep sigh.
"No — first you should let people know that you dote on your grandson."
