The Spear-Point Sword
The third place the Third Prince guided them to was a training ground. It was no ordinary yard, however—this was where the Silver Knights, Owen Kingdom's strongest assault force, the ones who annihilated the kingdom's enemies, honed their blades.
Raon narrowed his eyes as he watched them.
Chillingly sharp.
If the royal guards who protected the palace were sturdy pillars or shields, the Silver Knights looked like swords that had been endlessly whetted and refined. The martial force they carried was a world apart from the knights Raon had seen on the road to the capital. The killing intent rolling off them was enough to raise goosebumps.
Not bad at all.
The swordsmanship the Silver Knights displayed was a set of forms that pushed Owen Kingdom's signature keen-blade and orthodox-blade principles to their extreme. Perhaps because his own swordsmanship had climbed so far, the flow of their techniques unfolded before his eyes at a glance.
This will be quite useful.
They weren't revealing everything they had, but the swordsmanship itself was outstanding enough to study. And among them…
To the right, a young man was thrusting his sword more slowly than anyone else. Hair the color of the sea, brown eyes. He looked young, yet the energy he carried stood on an entirely different plane from the knights around him.
It was not the first time Raon had felt that presence. He had sensed it once before, quite some time ago.
"You've got a good eye, as expected."
Rimer sidled up beside him with a grin.
"That guy is Borini Kitten."
"Borini Kitten?"
"Borini Kitten of the Continental Twelve Stars. One of the kids they used to call a genius—before you showed up."
He pointed at the blue-haired young man who, merely by standing there, radiated the lofty presence of a single unsheathed blade.
"You knew of him, sir!"
The Third Prince beamed and nodded, delighted.
"That's right. That is Sir Borini Kitten, the Spear-Point Sword. I didn't expect even the Sword of Light Wind to know of him."
A broad smile spread across his face at the discovery that Rimer recognized Borini Kitten.
"I know the Continental Twelve Stars, at least. In taverns and gambling dens, the conversation's always about who's strongest among them."
Rimer muttered that even if you didn't want to know, hanging around gambling houses meant you learned it all anyway.
"Would Your Highness like to visit one sometime? I could show you the adult world…"
"Shut that mouth."
Sheryl's brow furrowed as she drove her elbow into Rimer's side.
"Gah!"
Rimer clutched his waist and staggered back.
"Mm."
Sensing their gazes, Borini Kitten lowered his sword and approached.
"Your Highness."
He first bowed with impeccable courtesy to the Third Prince.
"As you know, these are our guests from Zieghart."
"I am Borini Kitten of the Silver Knights."
He bent at the waist—neither too deep nor too light, a greeting measured to the inch.
"Sheryl, Leader of the Heavenly Sword Squad of Zieghart."
Sheryl, who could fairly be called the group's representative, accepted the greeting with a nod.
"It is an honor to meet the Heavenly Sword Squad Leader!"
Borini Kitten's voice rose a full tone, and it did not sound like empty courtesy.
"And that gentleman is…"
"Ah, don't mind him."
His eyes had drifted to Rimer, who was still clutching his waist, but Sheryl stepped in and cut off his line of sight.
"I am Raon Zieghart, Vice Leader of the Light Wind Squad."
Next in turn, Raon stepped up beside Sheryl and bowed to Borini Kitten.
I think I know where I sensed him now.
Up close, the memory surfaced. During the battle against the White Blood Cult on the hill near Camelun, a presence had risen in the distance—identical to the man standing before him now.
"Raon Zieghart…"
Borini Kitten's eyes wavered.
He's grown this much?
When he had secretly escorted the Third Prince, he had observed Raon from afar. Even then there had been a strength and elegance that transcended the boy's age—but the person in front of him now looked like someone else entirely.
This is absurd.
Back then, several massive mountains had stood between that Raon and himself. Now those mountains had all been pierced through. This young swordsman who was not even twenty had already chased him to the brink.
Is this even possible?
He had heard the stories—that Raon had received the title of Frost-Flower Sword Hero and was making a name for himself across the continent. He had also, if he was honest, somewhat dismissed the boy after hearing he had been kidnapped by Eden.
The Raon standing here now, however, was not a martial artist anyone could afford to ignore. He possessed a power that was unimaginable for that age.
Anyone else would have missed it entirely.
If he had not trained in Owen's unique sensory art for gauging an opponent's strength—or if his own power had been even slightly lower—he would not have been able to grasp Raon's skill at all. His head spun.
"Sir Borini?"
"Ah. Yes."
At the Third Prince's call, Borini Kitten barely collected himself and nodded.
"Welcome to the Silver Knights. Unfortunately, our commander is currently away. Though I am inadequate to the task, I will guide you in his place."
He bowed politely and asked them to follow.
"Hmm."
Raon paid no attention to the training facilities or the knights Borini was introducing. He watched only the man's back.
I wonder…
Before he had gone to Habun Castle, the gap had been so vast he could not even properly sense Borini Kitten's presence. That was no longer the case. The other man's realm was still higher—but if they fought with everything they had, Raon had closed the distance enough that he could win.
Coming here was the right call.
Raon tapped the hilt of his sword and smiled.
I'll be able to take a great deal from this.
Derus Robert took a sip of tea and smiled faintly.
"The flavor and aroma are excellent, without question. Bitter at first, then sweet on the finish—it seems the velvet coral was dried properly."
He set the cup down and smacked his lips lightly.
"Even I, living in Robert territory, have trouble obtaining tea of this grade. Velvet coral tea of the highest quality—remarkable."
"You have a discerning palate."
King Lecross's eyes curved in a smile. Unlike Glenn, Derus had recognized the tea for what it was, and the king nodded, plainly pleased.
"Ah. On the way here, I encountered the Frost-Flower Sword Hero."
Derus lifted his cup again and looked at Glenn.
"Now I understand why the Family Head's face has brightened. Even among the young swordsmen I have seen, he stood well above the rest."
"So the Heavenly Sword Star thinks so as well."
King Lecross smiled, as if they had arrived at the same conclusion.
"Mid-rank Master at nineteen. Anyone would think the same. He had already grasped that the two of you possess entirely different martial textures, as well."
"Textures?"
"Yes. He said he felt Your Majesty's keen, upright presence and grew tense. It seems he saw you clearly."
"Hah…"
King Lecross let out a breath and shook his head.
"A truly frightening talent."
"Yes. He is a swordsman whose future I look forward to even more."
Derus praised Raon while watching Glenn from the corner of his eye.
Expressionless. No—is he a little pleased?
Glenn's face looked as cold as it had at their first meeting, but the corner of his mouth had lifted, ever so slightly. He was pretending otherwise, yet he seemed to cherish the boy.
"He looks capable of defeating the lower four of the Continental Twelve Stars, and of holding his own against the middle four."
Derus offered a slightly stronger compliment and watched Glenn's reaction.
Hm. Or perhaps not?
They were bundled together under the name Continental Twelve Stars, but of course they were not all of the same realm. Differences in age, talent, and martial study divided them into a lower four, a middle four, and an upper four.
The middle four were already mid-career martial artists whose names and power were known across the entire continent—and even compared against them, Glenn's expression did not change.
"My thoughts are much the same."
King Lecross nodded slowly.
"That boy Borini sits squarely in the middle four. I believe he and the child could have a fine match."
"Yes. He should also be able to have an interesting fight with our Kadis."
Derus brought up Kadis and studied Glenn's face once more. The man's eyes had sunk even colder.
Ah. So I was mistaken.
Borini Kitten and Kadis Robert were martial artists who had built fame and accomplishments incomparable to Raon's. Even held up against them, Glenn's expression had not shifted. It seemed he did not value the boy all that highly.
Well. The idea of that cold-blooded man looking after anyone never made sense to begin with.
The Glenn that Derus knew was not a man who looked after his own children, let alone a grandson. The strike against Eden this time had been nothing more than anger at the insult to Zieghart. He certainly had not gone there to save Raon.
I can begin the plan, then.
Derus set his cup down with a faint smile.
"Since fate has gathered us like this, what would you say to holding an interesting tournament?"
"A tournament?"
"What sort of tournament do you mean?"
Glenn and King Lecross turned to him at the same time.
"It is rare for so many young martial artists to gather in one place. We hold a friendly tournament—a bracket, split between the Expert rank and the Master rank. It should be quite entertaining."
Derus tapped the table lightly with a finger and smiled.
"I am rather curious myself what would happen if the Frost-Flower Sword Hero fought the Continental Twelve Stars, so I will have my own child participate as well."
"Kadis, the Wave Sword? Is he not the highest ranked even among the middle four?"
Kadis Robert, the Wave Sword, sat fifth among the Continental Twelve Stars—a somewhat burdensome opponent for Raon as he was now.
"It is a friendly tournament, after all. There should be no real danger."
"Hmm. It does sound entertaining. Then we shall send the Spear-Point Sword as well."
"And the Family Head…"
"Very well."
Glenn nodded, his face still unreadable.
"I look forward to it. Which of these young pillars will stand at the top."
Derus folded his hands together with a faint smile.
"Lord Derus?"
Roen narrowed his eyes and called to him.
"Blood is seeping from your glove."
Just as he said, a few drops of blood were welling from inside the black glove.
Derus did not so much as flinch. He smiled.
"Ah. It is nothing."
He brushed his hand downward, and the blood vanished as if it had never been there.
"Let us speak of this at the banquet. It would be good to gather gifts for the children as well."
"Hmm. Very well."
"Then I shall take my leave. I will see you again at the banquet."
Derus bowed to Glenn and King Lecross and left the drawing room.
"I shall go as well."
Glenn set down his empty cup and rose.
"Please rest well."
He nodded to King Lecross, who had come out to see him off, and left the drawing room.
"Mm…"
Roen followed Glenn down the corridor, his eyes narrowing.
His mood seems to have soured all of a sudden.
Until a moment ago, Glenn's eyes had been bright from the praise of Raon. Now they had sunk cold.
I cannot fathom why.
He had thought he understood everything about Glenn—but when it came to matters involving Raon, he could not get a grip on the man's intentions.
"My lord. Did something happen?"
Unable to contain his curiosity, Roen raised a sound barrier and drew up beside Glenn.
"How am I supposed to hear that and not be angry?"
"By 'that,' you mean…"
"Raon…"
"Raon?"
Glenn's eyes tightened as he clenched his fist. He was genuinely furious.
Hah…
He was not even satisfied being compared to the Continental Twelve Stars—the ones called future Transcendents. It seemed Roen had badly underestimated a grandfather overflowing with love for his grandson.
Not that Glenn was wrong. Perhaps not yet—but in the future, the Continental Twelve Stars would be the ones standing at Raon's feet.
Roen smiled faintly and nodded.
"You are quite right. We should be able to show them exactly that, this time."
Derus Robert returned to his quarters at once and summoned his two butlers to the room.
"Matio."
"Yes."
At his call, the butler on the left bowed his head. He was the butler of the shadows, the one who always wore a mask.
"Can you recognize the assassins you raised?"
"Of course."
Matio nodded without the slightest hesitation.
"An assassin has a distinctive way of moving, a distinctive air. Even the years cannot erase it. If it is one I raised myself, I will recognize them without fail."
"Even after twenty years? Even if they have learned a different martial art?"
"The training I gave them used a bird's imprinting effect. They could not escape it even if they were born again."
His eyes shone with unshakable confidence, as if the answer were obvious.
Derus smiled faintly and pulled off his glove. Dried blood had beaded along the sword scar carved into the back of his hand.
"Hm?"
Still holding the glove, he turned his gaze toward the window.
"Is something the matter?"
"…No."
Derus narrowed his eyes and looked away again.
"Do you remember Raon, by any chance?"
"…That Raon, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Of course I remember him."
Matio's gaze sank as he nodded. He had raised the boy himself from childhood. There was no chance he would forget the hunting dog who, of all things, had carved an unerasable wound into the back of his master's hand.
"From this moment, you will watch Raon Zieghart."
Derus peeled the scab from the back of his hand and smiled, cold as ice.
"Find traces of the assassin you raised in him."
"…Understood."
It was an utterly outlandish order—to assume that Raon Zieghart and the shadow named Raon were connected—yet Matio did not so much as question it. He reacted like a dog following its master's command, nothing more.
Derus pulled on a new glove, a chilling smile on his lips.
Raon returned to his quarters and changed into formal attire.
"Aren't you going to rest?"
Wrath tilted his head, wondering why Raon was changing clothes at all.
'There's a welcome ceremony.'
"Hmph. Humans always insist on holding those tedious events. I cannot comprehend…"
'It's a banquet, so there'll be all kinds of dishes.'
"What are you waiting for?!"
The cotton ball that had been snorting in disdain was already standing in front of the door, scowling.
"Do you have any idea how much This King loves banquets?! Let us go at once! The food will go cold!"
'It's not time yet.'
Raon shook his head. He had never expected to think this, but watching Wrath, there truly was never a dull moment with this Demon King.
"Haa."
He let out a long breath and collapsed onto the bed.
'Wrath.'
"Is it time to eat?"
'It hasn't even been a minute…'
He had said it wasn't time yet, and a minute later this was the question. Between that and being fooled by the last stew earlier, the creature was well and truly insane when it came to food.
'That's not it. Do you remember the king we saw today, and my enemy?'
"Of course."
'Which of the two is stronger?'
Based on what Wrath had said before, it should have been Derus—but Raon asked again, just in case.
"That, This King can tell you with certainty. The thief who stole your last bowl is the stronger one."
'…So it is him, after all.'
Raon frowned.
He's surpassed his old realm in the time between.
Twenty years ago, Derus had been evaluated as the weakest of the Six Kings' leaders. He had been the youngest, so that had been only natural—but it seemed he had now leapt across that gap.
Raon had known the man was gifted, despite that insufferable personality. He had not expected him to break through the wall of time and catch up to the other leaders of the Six Kings.
"Do not worry."
'Hm?'
"This King shall open the path for you to take your revenge upon that scoundrel."
Wrath, looking like a cotton candy with its brows knitted, patted Raon's shoulder.
"The fact that you can eat Nadin Bread and be perfectly fine—and that you look at delicious food and go off to train instead, you madman—is all that devil's doing, is it not?"
'Well…'
Honestly, it was not wrong. Assassin training was the reason he had stopped caring about how food tasted.
"Rage over food is This King's rage! This King shall help you put a fist through that wretch's face!"
'Hah.'
Every time the creature opened its mouth, it was food. Even now, Raon could hardly believe this thing was the Monarch of Wrath.
'So are you going to give me stats or a trait, then?'
"No. That is not…"
'Figures.'
Raon let out a short laugh. There was no chance Wrath, that miser of stats and traits, would actually hand any over.
'Then what exactly are you…'
He was about to ask again when a small movement registered beneath the window. He turned his head. A young squirrel had climbed up in front of the glass.
"A squirrel?"
He had seen small animals like squirrels in the sword shrine and the gardens, but a squirrel approaching a window—creatures that were afraid of people—was strange.
Tap. Tap.
The squirrel knocked on the window with its paws, as if asking to be let in.
Someone's pet squirrel, maybe?
Just in case, he spread his perception. No particular energy came from the squirrel.
'Is there something strange about that squirrel?'
"It looks like an ordinary squirrel, but there is a very, very faint trace of mana. It seems to have been tamed over a long period of time."
Wrath frowned, unable to say anything more precise.
"Mm…"
Raon set his hand on the hilt of the Requiem Sword and approached the window. He opened it while staying ready to cut the creature down the instant it tried anything dangerous.
Thuk.
The squirrel squeezed its body through the narrow opening and came inside. With the ease of long familiarity, it dropped onto the chest of drawers just below.
"What are you supposed to be…"
"You should've opened it a little faster."
A human voice spilled from the squirrel's mouth. The diction was a little awkward, but each word was crisp—and the cadence belonged to someone he knew.
Raon's eyes flew wide as he stared at the squirrel, which was grinning up at him like a person.
"Merlin…?"