The Pebble They Scorned

A sharp snap rang through the hall.

The moment Glenn flicked his fingers, the mana inside the Audience Chamber stirred.

A deep rumble rolled through the air. The flow of mana, which had lain as still as a quiet lake, surged in a violent swell, and a colossal iron door erupted from the floor.

Golden fire roared. The iron door was so immense it nearly scraped the ceiling, and it burned with a blaze of gold.

"M-my lord?"

Roen's eyes flew wide. That door was the House Zieghart Treasury — a vault only the clan head could summon. It had been ten years since Glenn last called it forth.

"I'll be back shortly."

Glenn raised his hand, and the golden iron door swung open as smoothly as if it had been oiled.

He glanced back once more at the golden flames still burning atop the stone sword, then stepped inside the vault.

The interior of the Treasury was piled high with treasures beyond counting. Supreme-grade elixirs and weapons, jewels enough to purchase a castle, books of every kind — any single one of them could have set the continent ablaze with bloodshed.

Glenn gave no attention to the weapons and jewels that seemed to cry out for his notice, nor to the neatly stacked elixirs. He walked a straight line through the vault, heading for the enormous bookshelf that stood at its deepest point.

The cylindrical shelf soared all the way to the far end of the Treasury, as if it were the World Tree itself, and books of every color filled each row.

Glenn tapped the ground lightly. His body rose, defying gravity, and he stepped through empty air toward the first shelf.

Unlike every other row, the first held only two volumes.

He reached for the yellowed, tattered book in front and tried to draw it free. The book did not budge, as if it had been pinned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beneath a boulder.

"Still won't move, I see."

Glenn clicked his tongue and pulled out the crimson book beside it. The second volume slid free smoothly, unlike the first, and was so well preserved that reading it posed no problem at all.

Pages fluttered under his fingers. Then, midway through, Glenn's hand stopped dead.

"Hmm..."

He frowned as he read the passage written there.

Glenn closed his eyes and recalled the golden flames Raon had created.

"Golden mana. Golden flames."

Yellow aura was common enough. But a deep, true gold ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mana had appeared only once in all of House Zieghart's history.

"Raon. Just what are you..."

"Mom's sorry."

The moment they returned to the Annex, Sylvia pulled Raon into her arms. She held him tighter than usual — so tightly it was hard to breathe.

"It's all right."

Raon felt her back trembling and patted her shoulder.

I still don't really understand it.

In his previous life, he had lived without knowing what emotion even was. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kill, and he killed. Kidnap, and he kidnapped. Steal, and he stole. A trainer and his dog. Nothing but a relationship of command and obedience.

But now it was different. Sylvia, Helen, and the maids asked for nothing. They only gave.

It was the first time in his life he had ever only received, and so he could not precisely name the feeling that sent a thrill through his chest.

Still, he knew one thing. He did not want Sylvia and the maids to cry. Even if they could not always smile, he hoped they would not be sad.

If they had mocked me, I wouldn't have felt a thing.

But the people in the House of the Head had mocked Sylvia. The collateral line below the dais had snickered openly, and the direct descendants above it had worn expressions of disgust, as if looking at an insect.

I'll have to teach them.

He would teach every last one of them who had sneered at Sylvia. He would show them exactly how the filthy behavior they had displayed today would come back around.

A warm afternoon sun poured down. A boy sat on the garden lawn.

His deep blond hair drifted in a gentle breeze, and though his features still held a child's youth, they already formed a harmony close to perfection. The only flaw was the pallor of his face, as if his body were unwell.

"Hah..."

After sitting for a long while with both eyes closed, the boy slowly opened them.

The Ring of Fire is just about to become three.

He was grown enough now that "boy" suited him better than "child." Raon smiled faintly.

Has it already been seven years?

Seven years had passed since the first Appraisal Ceremony. He was twelve now. Thanks to the cultivation he had kept up without fail through all that time, the two Rings of Fire were on the verge of becoming three.

A little disappointing.

If not for the cold energy spread through his entire body, he would have reached the third star long ago. Unfortunately, having to cultivate while wrestling with that cold had slowed his progress.

Still, it was not as if he had gained nothing.

Status window.

Inwardly, he called out a word that had long since become familiar.

His Water Attribute Resistance had risen to two stars, and the full-body cold constitution had vanished from his status. Because of that, his hands and feet no longer locked up the way they once had.

Of course, moving his body was still difficult thanks to his other physical conditions — but that was a problem that would resolve itself naturally as his achievement in the Ring of Fire climbed.

"Hmm."

Raon dismissed the status window and stood up from the lawn.

I need to start physical training now, too...

Now that he suffered less from the cold, Sylvia and the maids worried less — but the moment he tried to move his body, they came running to stop him. Raising his achievement in the Ring of Fire quickly required physical training as well, so he needed to find a way to train in the open.

Isn't there a way I can train without hiding it?

He could force the issue if he wanted to. Strangely, though, Sylvia's words were hard to disobey. They were not orders, and yet he found himself following them anyway.

"Young master!"

He was still turning the problem over when Helen came running out of the Annex.

"You have to attend the Appraisal Ceremony, and you're still sitting out here like this? What am I going to do with you? I swear, you're just like the madam."

"Ah. Right."

Everyone was required to attend the Appraisal Ceremony except those away from the estate or out on missions, which meant he had to go as well.

"Guess I'll have to see those irritating bastards again."

He had been openly mocked at the second Appraisal Ceremony a few years ago, too. This time they would surely run their mouths with things like "coward" and "runaway" — words he barely even cared to understand.

"Y-young master. Please keep your voice down..."

Helen glanced around and put a finger to her lips.

"Because other people might be listening?"

"The eyes and ears inside this house are always open."

"Worrying is practically a hobby of yours, but fine."

Raon clicked his tongue briefly and went inside the Annex. Sylvia was waiting, already dressed in formal attire.

"If you're tired, do you want to rest in your room? Mom can go alone."

The faint lines at the corners of Sylvia's eyes had deepened a little. She stroked his hair.

"I'm fine."

Raon shook his head and went into his room.

I need to see how the ones who mocked us have changed.

For an assassin, tracking changes in a target was a task of the highest priority. Raon decided to attend the Appraisal Ceremony in rather good spirits.

Raon entered the Audience Chamber with Sylvia and Helen, where the Appraisal Ceremony was being held.

"Still short, I see."

"Skinny as a twig. If it weren't for the blonde hair and red eyes, I'd believe he was some other family's kid."

"The only thing that lives up to the Zieghart name is that pretty face of his."

"He's so pale the face isn't even that great."

Just as expected. The direct descendants who ignored him as if he were of no interest, and the collaterals who sniped in whispers, had not changed at all.

Good.

They were still mocking him and Sylvia. The fact that their attitude had not shifted was, if anything, satisfying.

Joanna. Henry. Denier...

Raon looked from the dais down to the floor, reciting the names of the direct descendants and the collateral line one by one.

He sat in the very last row below the dais and waited about thirty minutes before Glenn Zieghart, the clan head, made his entrance. He was still — no, more than seven years ago — wrapped in an even greater majesty as he ascended the dais and proceeded with the ceremony.

There was not a single child from the direct line. Only the children of the collateral families and the vassal houses were being appraised, so the ceremony ended in less than three hours.

The collateral children had high mana purity, and in between the evaluations he could hear them teasing him by comparison. He ignored it.

"Today's Appraisal Ceremony is now concluded. Thank you all for your—"

"Wait."

Glenn raised a hand, cutting off the master of ceremonies before the man could declare the rite over.

"Raon Zieghart."

The gaze of an Absolute, seated upon the throne and looking down upon all under heaven, turned toward Raon for the first time.

Silence fell in an instant, and every eye in the chamber locked onto him.

Me?

Raon swallowed dryly. He had never imagined his name would be called so suddenly, and it caught him off guard.

"C-Clan Head?"

"Nnh..."

Sylvia's pupils trembled in confusion. Beside her, Helen squeezed her hand tightly.

"An order should have been issued for you, as a member of this house, to participate in the foundation training. Why, a full month later, have you still sent no reply?"

Participate in foundation training?

He had never received any such thing. He glanced sideways. Sylvia was biting her lip. She had already known.

"C-Clan Head. Raon is different from the other children. The cold in his body still hasn't—"

"There are no exceptions, and no refusals, for those who bear the Zieghart name."

"He can barely even walk properly. He won't be able to endure the training."

Sylvia shook her head, her voice firm.

Glenn rested his chin on his right hand and lowered his eyes.

"I-I cannot accept this. No — at the very least, a little more time—"

"If you cannot accept it, will you leave this house again? Taking that infant with you?"

"Th-that's..."

Raon felt the hand holding his right one grow damp with sweat.

"On this land, you can only live as a Zieghart. If that does not suit you, then leave."

Glenn's voice was as cold as if he were speaking to a stranger — not a drop of blood in it.

"Think she'll run away again?"

"That'd be a show, but it's not like she's got an aura core or mana circuits left to wreck."

"To think someone like that was a direct descendant of this house. Tsk tsk."

Raon looked at Sylvia, at Glenn, and at everyone in that chamber, and a chill settled into his gaze.

Now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I understand.

He understood why Sylvia, despite being of the direct line, was treated so wretchedly. Why she was scorned not only by the direct descendants but by the collaterals as well.

She left the house.

There were traces of martial training on her, but she had no aura. That meant she had either destroyed her aura core or never cultivated aura to begin with — and as he had suspected, it was the former.

Sylvia had ruined her aura core and mana circuits, left the family, and married his father. That much was certain.

She must have gotten pregnant with me, and then Father died, so she had no choice but to come back.

He understood. She had thrown away a seat in the Zieghart direct line of her own will, then returned. Being treated as less than a collateral was, from the outside, a reasonable consequence.

But.

That was the view from outside. That was their business. From the standpoint of Sylvia's son — from Raon's standpoint — he could not endure the way she was treated.

Raon let go of Sylvia's and Helen's hands and took a step forward.

"Y-young master!"

"Raon. Mom will handle this, so—"

"It's all right."

He shook his head at both of them, then stood directly before Glenn.

"Clan Head. As you have said, I will participate in the training starting next month."

He bowed his head, meeting eyes that looked at him not as a grandson, but as an insect.

"You didn't even know there was training, did you?"

Denier Zieghart, Glenn's third son and Raon's uncle, spoke up. He was the only one among the direct line who had been looking at Raon with anything like pity.

"That is correct."

"Even if it is only foundation training, it is not a level a patient like you can handle. Stand down, even now."

"I am fine."

Raon looked not at Denier, but at Glenn.

"I have been given the name Zieghart, so I ought to live up to its worth. I will participate in the training."

At a voice too resolute to belong to a child, a flicker of change passed through the gazes around the room. They still seemed to regard him as little more than a small pebble — but for now, that was enough.

He had risen from a hunting dog at the very bottom to the greatest of assassins. He was cultivating the Ring of Fire, a thing out of continental legend. If he brought every one of those abilities to bear, standing at the peak of this house was not an impossibility.

Would revenge be delayed? No. This might actually be the faster path.

Raon curled his small hand into a tight fist.

I'll show you just how hard the pebble you looked down on can become.