The Kingdom of Knights
Raon narrowed his eyes at the sheer, cliff-like walls rising before him.
The Kingdom of Knights, Owen…
A name that left nothing to be desired.
True to its title, the closer they drew to the royal castle, the sharper the frost-like presence grew. It was not the sword aura of any single man. It was the martial spirit of an army, raised together and rolling forward in waves.
"Looks like they've come out to greet us."
Rimer chuckled and pointed toward the castle gate. Following his hand, Raon saw a young man and a middle-aged man standing before a massive gate large enough for a giant to pass through without trouble.
Those two…
The moment he saw their barely changed faces, their names surfaced at once. Third Prince Grier de Owen and Duke Tartan, who had visited Zieghart five years ago.
"We greet the Northern Annihilation King!"
The instant Glenn arrived before the gate, Third Prince Grier and Duke Tartan dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. It was the highest courtesy they could offer within their own kingdom.
"It has been a while."
Glenn nodded and gestured for the Third Prince and Duke Tartan to rise.
"This would be the first time since we visited Zieghart, so… about five years, I believe."
"Looking at how much you've grown, time has indeed passed."
"Ah, not at all! Compared to Swordsman Raon, I am still nothing but a greenhorn!"
Caught off guard by the sudden praise, the Third Prince flushed and pointed at Raon standing behind them.
"Ahem. Is that so."
Glenn cleared his throat and patted the Third Prince's shoulder. The gesture was strangely gentle, almost kind. It did not look like the Glenn they knew.
"Yes. I don't believe it was ever mentioned, but Swordsman Raon once saved my life as well."
The Third Prince recounted the battle against the White Blood Cult on a hill near Camelun. It had been the Requiem Sword's first true battle.
"I had no idea such a thing had happened."
Glenn glanced back once, narrowing his eyes. The look seemed to scold Raon for never having said a word.
"That child does not speak except when necessary."
"I felt it even then, but Swordsman Raon is a model for all martial artists. He is nothing like those who merely put on a show of humility."
"Ahem. He is simply a man of few words, but I suppose one could see it that way."
Glenn cleared his throat a little louder and kneaded the Third Prince's shoulder with more force. The Third Prince looked ready to die of happiness, as if he had always admired Glenn.
"Hmm…"
Raon tilted his head as he watched Glenn's faint smile and the Third Prince.
They get along surprisingly well.
The two of them talked as easily as old friends reunited after a long time. It was a curious thing.
That aside, his martial power has definitely grown.
The Third Prince's achievements had advanced so far that he seemed a different person from the one Raon had met in Camelun. He was still a long way from Master, but he had firmly set foot in Expert Peak-Class.
However…
Raon turned his head toward the rear. He smiled as he took in Burren marveling at the royal castle, Runaan staring blankly at the sky, and Marta lost in her mental training.
Our growth is even more dazzling.
Burren, Runaan, and Marta, who five years ago had watched the Third Prince from below, now stood—if only slightly—above him. That the three of them had grown faster than the Third Prince, who received the full backing of the Owen Kingdom, meant they had carved their way through a living hell.
And those three have no intention of stopping.
Whether for themselves or for their comrades, Burren, Marta, and Runaan were still burning with the hunger to grow stronger. That passion would not die until they could use Sword Realm Manifestation. From here on, the gap would only widen.
"The Northern Annihilation King was magnificent as well, was he not? When I heard the tale of how you alone defeated the White Blood Cult Leader and Fallen Heaven, my blood boiled."
The Third Prince beamed, trying to keep the pleasant atmosphere going by speaking of Glenn's exploits.
"Is that so."
But Glenn's expression settled into calm even at praise directed at himself. He took his hand from the Third Prince's shoulder and turned his gaze away.
"Ahem. Let us not linger here. His Majesty is waiting."
Sensing the mood had hit the floor, Duke Tartan offered a faint smile and took the Third Prince by the shoulder. The Third Prince realized his blunder and stepped aside.
The massive castle gate split down the middle with a deep, rolling rumble, and a wave of presence surged out from the royal castle like a blaze. It was the aura pouring from the knights lined up before the gate.
Strong.
They were not stationed at the palace for nothing. Every single knight standing in formation possessed martial power that would not be lacking if called a master.
Coming here was the right choice.
If he could spar not only with the children of the other Six Kings but with these knights as well, that alone would be worth the trip.
"Swordsman Raon."
While Raon was licking his lips in anticipation, the Third Prince approached from the side. His eyes had grown more mature than before, but the smiling face had not changed.
"Are you well? I worried a great deal when I heard you had been kidnapped."
Asking after his health the moment they met—his personality seemed unchanged as well.
"Yes. I was fortunate."
"Fortune, you say. Others may think so, but my judgment is different."
The Third Prince's blue eyes gleamed with a light as deep as the ocean.
"I know how strong and wise Swordsman Raon is, and I know how wicked Eden and the White Blood Cult truly are. If it had been mere luck, Swordsman Raon would not be standing here now."
"Hmm…"
A little disappointing.
Raon slightly furrowed his brow. Unfortunately, the Third Prince was seeing him clearly.
"Why the disappointment?"
Wrath tilted his head as if he found it strange.
"Should you not be pleased that he acknowledges you?"
Then it will be hard to fight the prince properly.
"What…?"
By now the Third Prince should have learned Owen's secret techniques. It will be difficult to see them.
The Third Prince already knew he was no match. In that state, even if they sparred, he would likely hide the secret arts.
The best opponents to steal martial knowledge from are the ones who look down on me.
After the kidnapping by Eden, rumors had spread that the fame of the Frost-Flower Sword Hero was overblown, and dismissive gazes had begun to appear again. He had been looking forward to crushing the arrogant children of the Six Kings who would pick fights at the gathering and extracting their martial knowledge in the process—but looking at the Third Prince's eyes, the Owen side would not be easy.
"Have you greased that brain of yours? How does it spin this well…"
Wrath let out a sigh, calling him a nasty piece of work.
"Has Your Highness been well in the meantime?"
"I would like to say I have, but there were quite a few dangerous situations. The White Blood Cult really is everywhere. Before…"
The Third Prince said that after fighting the White Blood Cult so constantly, even the mere sight of blood energy made him nauseous. As they chatted, they had already entered the heart of the royal castle.
They passed down a corridor laid with a noble-looking red carpet and stopped before an iron door covered in diagonal lines, as if swords had been stacked upon it.
"This is His Majesty's audience chamber."
Duke Tartan raised both hands to indicate the door. The heat in his eyes made plain how deeply he respected the current king.
"Hmm…"
Raon looked up at the magnificent iron door and swallowed dryly. From within, a sharpness could be felt, as if blades had been honed for hundreds of years. It was a presence that would not yield even to Glenn.
When Duke Tartan knocked, the door of the audience chamber opened smoothly with a low rumble, revealing the interior.
Knights stood before warm-looking brown pillars—powerhouses of a different caliber from anyone they had seen so far. The strongest shield that protected the king: Owen's Royal Guard.
Passing through the wall of knights clad in mighty, humming aura, a middle-aged man seated on the central throne came into view. Blond hair, blue eyes. A resemblance to the Third Prince, but a little sharper, a little more upright.
"Kh…"
Raon bit down on his lip as he looked at the middle-aged man.
Intense.
The man was not even releasing his presence, yet goosebumps rose on Raon's arms. The energy that bloomed as naturally as breathing had already reached the heavens. Those of low martial power felt nothing, but everyone who had risen to Master or above swallowed dryly at the sight of him.
So this is the King of Owen.
It went without saying that a king was not necessarily a kingdom's strongest. In fact, kingdoms whose kings were not strong were far more common. But Owen was different. The King of Owen had always been the strongest, and had always taken up the sword on the front lines.
Silent Sword Venerable, Lexros.
The middle-aged man seated on that throne was no exception. That man was the current King of Owen, and the one called the strongest knight: Silent Sword Venerable Lexros Alburn de Owen.
"As expected."
Wrath bared his teeth in a grin as he looked at Lexros.
"Not quite on the level of that old man of yours, but this is properly accumulated martial power. Humans have progressed in their own way."
He nodded in admiration. To receive this much recognition from Wrath meant Lexros's martial power, too, had reached the heavens.
"Welcome."
Lexros rose from the throne and descended the dais. It was something a king would never normally do, but he did it to honor Glenn.
"It has truly been a long time, Northern Annihilation King."
"Indeed. The first since the war. A long while."
Lexros and Glenn faced each other and smiled faintly. The rumor that Glenn and Lexros were the only ones who maintained a good relationship seemed to be true.
"I heard you cut down the White Blood Cult Leader and Fallen Heaven at the same time. It was no empty rumor. You seem to have risen so high now that catching up is no longer possible."
Unlike his presence, honed to the extreme of sharpness, Lexros had a gentle impression and a gentle voice. Looking at him, one felt at ease.
"You flatter me. The Silent Sword Venerable, too, is unrecognizable from those days."
Glenn nodded deeply as he looked at the Silent Sword Venerable. It meant he was sincerely impressed.
"That is the flattery, I am afraid. I must be getting old; my sword goes where it pleases."
"Boasting of reaching a new realm, are you."
"You are the only one who would understand such a thing, Family Head."
Lexros shook his head, then looked past Glenn. The first place his eyes went was not Sheryl, nor Roen, nor Rimer, but Raon.
"Hah…"
Lexros's blue eyes narrowed into ovals.
"You are Raon Zieghart?"
"My greetings are late. I am Raon Zieghart, Vice Leader of the Light Wind Squad, Your Majesty."
Raon placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head with due respect.
"I heard you are a year younger than my third son, so that would make you nineteen?"
"That is correct."
"I had heard the rumors of the Frost-Flower Sword Hero, but to think you had already reached mid-rank Master at nineteen. No—that is not all. If you fought in earnest, you would display even greater martial power."
Lexros clicked his tongue as if he could not believe it.
"I wondered how you survived Eden's den. So that was the reason."
"Hah!"
"M-mid-rank Master?"
"Mid-rank Master at nineteen…"
Even the Royal Guard standing before the pillars broke their expressionless faces and let out low groans, so astonished were they at Raon's realm.
"I thought our third would hold his own anywhere he was placed, but that young man is on the level of cheating, is he not?"
Lexros turned his gaze back to Glenn and let out a breathless laugh.
"With a grandson like that, you must feel quite secure."
He smiled faintly, as if envious.
"It is not quite that. He is a child who works hard, that is all."
Glenn waved a hand as if it were nothing. His voice had grown as soft as when he had first met the Third Prince.
"It is more than that, is it not? If that young man continues to grow as he is, even the balance of the Six Kings and Five Demons may break."
Reaching mid-rank Master at nineteen was astonishing even to the Silent Sword Venerable; he could not close his mouth as he looked at Raon. It was not jealousy or envy, but a delighted gaze. That he could take pleasure even in the strength of another faction's talent suggested that, as the rumors said, his nature itself was magnanimous.
"Ahem! You know as well as I. Of those touted as promising talents, only a handful ever truly shine. For that child, it is still a long way off."
Glenn put a fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and narrowed his eyes. His voice trembled slightly, as if the praise did not sit well with him.
"You are as strict as ever. Perhaps that is how you raised a child like that."
Unlike Glenn, Lexros looked at Raon with a gentle smile.
"Continue to strive. Facing an excellent martial artist is a great joy."
"Thank you."
Raon bowed his head once more.
"Would you care for a cup of tea? I have some fine leaves that arrived from the west."
"Gladly."
At Lexros's suggestion, Glenn nodded smoothly.
"Grier."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Show the guests from Zieghart around the palace."
"Understood!"
The Third Prince turned to look at the Zieghart party.
"This way, if you would."
Before following the Third Prince, Raon looked back at Glenn and Lexros, who were smiling. It was the first time he had seen Glenn smile like that, and it was somehow fascinating.
"Hmmm…"
They were passing down the corridor, about to go outside again, when Wrath frowned.
What is it?
"One more is coming."
He licked his lips as he looked beyond the corridor.
"A temperament that is bright, yet dank. Even more so than that one earlier…"
Hm?
Raon started to answer, then stopped.
Suddenly his heart pounded violently. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and a chilling shiver ran down his spine.
Thud.
In a palace corridor where countless people came and went, only a single set of footsteps could be heard. A sound far too familiar, one he had never wanted to hear again, rang in his ears.
"Uh…"
His jaw trembled so hard that his upper and lower teeth clashed wildly. He clenched his fist to the limit until blood welled in his palm.
Raon gritted his teeth and lifted his head. From the center of the swordsmen in blue uniforms, a man was approaching.
Silver hair as if combed with frost. Blue eyes cold beyond measure. Skin so white it seemed never to have seen the sun, and features cut as sharp as a cliff.
Derus Robert.
The face he had not forgotten even through death and rebirth was coming toward him.