Playtime with the Patriarch
The Great Library on the second floor of the Sword Tower.
Kyle took Arian's hand and stepped inside. This was a repository of knowledge accumulated over a staggering 500 years.
Only those who had inherited the Alastor name across generations, or the family's loyal retainers. Occasionally, select works from outside deemed truly worthy of preservation found their way onto these shelves.
"The troublemaker's back."
As he marveled at the vast shelves stretching out below the railing, a voice suddenly rang out.
"Aunt Nelia!"
Arian called out with a bright smile. A beautiful woman with orange hair, clad in an antique robe, smiled warmly at Arian and Kyle.
"Say hello, Kyle. This is Nelia Alastor. She's an elder of the family in charge of the Great Library's librarianship."
"Hello, little one."
Nelia approached slowly, kneeling down to meet Kyle's eyes.
"So you're Arian's son. I heard you put on quite a show in front of the family head."
"Hello. I'm Kyle Alastor."
Kyle greeted her politely. Finding his manners endearing, Nelia chuckled softly and ruffled his hair.
"I also heard you handed a thorough defeat to Lucia. How could such a tiny kid pull that off?"
"Should I call you Great-Aunt?"
"That's fine, but this is the Great Library, and I'm the librarian. So for now, call me Librarian."
"Yes, ma'am. Did you teach Lucia too, Librarian?"
"No. I'm better with magic than swords, so I didn't teach her."
He'd sensed her hand lacked a swordsman's calluses, and sure enough. Kyle nodded, looking up at Nelia with sparkling eyes.
"Do I need the librarian's permission to read the library's books?"
"You need permission from the family head, not me."
Nelia replied with a smile. It was true that pureblood Alastors enjoyed many privileges, but they weren't exempt from the rules.
Purebloods, tied closely to the family's future, bore heavy responsibilities. Living in the Sword Tower meant constant scrutiny from the family head and elders. For some, it felt like sitting on pins and needles, always having to prove themselves.
Of course, Kyle didn't find it torturous. Prove yourself, and you could enjoy those perks to the fullest, right?
Just living in the Sword Tower was an enormous privilege already. Side branches or retainers in Gladiheim probably longed to prove themselves but lacked the opportunity, making life tough in all sorts of ways.
"What kinds of books are in the library?"
"Swordsmanship, other martial arts, magic tomes too."
"Mana cultivation methods?"
"Of course, but you can't learn them yet. You haven't awakened your Spirit Root, have you?"
Five hundred years must be a long time indeed. Hearing an unfamiliar term, Kyle tilted his head, and Arian stroked his hair while explaining.
"The Spirit Root is an organ that lets you sense mana more keenly."
Human children developed a Spirit Root at age ten. It was an evolutionary adaptation in a world where magic had become commonplace and mana familiar.
"In the old days, Spirit Roots were extremely rare, without even a name for them. But after the dark ages ended and a new era dawned, the world changed dramatically. All thanks to our founder."
Kyle's eyes sparkled as new facts flooded his mind. Spirit Roots and mana cultivation methods. Imagining the bizarre, overwhelming power of this era's masters who wielded such arts made his heart race.
"Mom, I'm only five. So no Spirit Root yet, right?"
"That's right."
"But earlier, I saw a goblin in Fenris. That's not related to Spirit Roots?"
"Affinity for spirits has nothing to do with having a Spirit Root. It's a rare, special talent. But once you awaken your Spirit Root, spirit arts training will benefit greatly."
Arian wiggled her fingers demonstratively, and a sharp gust swirled at her fingertips.
"I have a wind Spirit Root, so my first contract was with a wind spirit."
Mana cultivation methods were usually chosen based on one's Spirit Root attribute, with subsequent training specialized accordingly. A fire Spirit Root meant fire-attribute cultivation, fire sword arts or spells, all centered on flames.
Arian had awakened a wind Spirit Root, contracted a wind spirit, and mastered wind magic. Blessed with an innate affinity for wind beyond her Spirit Root, she'd amassed mana quickly while honing her spells.
"Kyle, you haven't awakened yours yet, but you take after me—no, you surpass me in spirit affinity. I've never contracted a goblin, but I'm certain your talent will greatly aid your sword training."
Kyle nodded eagerly. It was a shame he couldn't learn mana cultivation without a Spirit Root, but he wasn't impatient.
'I'm only five.'
He was curious about mana cultivation—something unheard of in his past life. But then, he'd swung his sword just fine without it back then.
Five more years until ten. Not long at all. Rushing with this young body might even harm it. Kyle decided to take it slow, building a solid foundation first.
'Plenty I still don't know about this era.'
Pushing aside minor regrets, Kyle and Arian left the library and ascended to the fourth floor, the purebloods' residence.
"..."
He'd heard the entire Rose Mansion had been moved here, but he hadn't grasped what that meant until now.
Upon arriving on the fourth floor, it clicked.
This was unmistakably inside a tower. Yet the fourth floor was vast. He'd sensed the Dragon King's spatial magic from the first floor's scale, but this dwarfed it.
A sprawling prairie stretched across the fourth floor. Hills and lakes dotted the distance, along with several grand mansions. And there was no ceiling—just blue sky, clouds, and sun overhead.
"Is that... real?"
"Not real. Think of it as a massive lighting fixture."
Arian pinched her astonished son's cheek, laughing.
"That sky looks real, but it's not. When night falls, moon and stars appear, with occasional rain or snow. But this is definitely inside the Sword Tower."
The Rose Mansion had indeed been relocated wholesale to the fourth floor. Servants who'd cared for Kyle since infancy opened the mansion's doors to greet him.
"Lady Arian, didn't you say you wouldn't be back for a while?"
Seril asked with a mischievous grin.
"I didn't expect Father to have us move into the tower right away either."
The mansion's interior was identical to when they'd left. It really had been transplanted whole. As Kyle gaped in awe, Arian chatted with Seril beside him.
"What about dinner?"
"Hmm. Probably all the family together."
And that's exactly what happened.
As Lucia had mentioned during the first-floor tour, purebloods usually dined in their own mansions on the fourth floor, not the first floor's grand dining hall.
But on rare occasions—like special family events—they gathered in the grand hall.
"Hello, I'm Kyle Alastor. I'm five years old."
He'd already introduced himself earlier, but at the banquet table, Kyle did so again in a composed voice.
"Uncles, aunts, please take care of me from now on."
Clap clap clap.
Applause answered, but it didn't sound cheerful to Kyle's ears. Many relatives eyed him with open wariness.
Kyle subtly glanced around the hall.
Excluding adults, four children stared at him intently. They were his cousins.
Kartan's sons, aged 13 and 10.
Barkas's 10-year-old son.
Dante's 7-year-old daughter.
And one more.
"..."
The youngest aunt, Erica Alastor. At just 13, she shot Kyle a sidelong glare. They'd never even spoken, but her face screamed displeasure.
In response to her look, Kyle flashed a bright smile. Testing the old saying that you can't spit on a smiling face. But Erica clicked her tongue and furrowed her brows.
"Eat."
Julius broke the awkward silence. As he lifted his utensils first, the meal began.
The banquet was lavish, but the dining was hushed. No idle chatter—just utensils moving, focus on the food.
'No wonder they eat at home.'
Family head Julius exuded immense pressure just by sitting there. Even his own children felt it; no way the young cousins could eat properly. Indeed, they only poked at their food.
Kyle, unperturbed, ate heartily. He acknowledged Julius's presence, but it wasn't hostile killing intent.
Julius was like a sword lying still. Sharp enough to choke you just by looking, fearing it might slice you for no reason.
Unless it bared clear malice, why cower at its edge? Cousins and aunts alike wilted under the pressure, but Kyle just took it in stride and kept eating.
"May I have another serving?"
Rose Mansion food was great, but the Sword Tower's was even better.
To grow big and strong, he needed to eat plenty. His empty plate was cleared, replaced with a full one. Kyle got four refills like that.
About then, Julius rose. The silent banquet ended. He moved to leave wordlessly, but Kyle jumped up and dashed after him like he'd been waiting.
Arian had no time to stop him. As the stifling meal concluded and Barkas swallowed a sigh of relief, his jaw dropped at Kyle. Everyone else stared in similar shock.
"Grandpa!"
Regardless of reactions, Kyle did as he pleased. Julius halted at his grandson's shout.
"What is it?"
"I came to play."
"To... play?"
"I asked earlier."
Julius blinked down at him.
"If I could play with you too, Grandpa."
Play if he felt like it? Sure, he'd said. But this adorable grandson seemed oblivious to the words' implications—or the patriarch's lofty status. Boldly asking for playtime in front of all these relatives.
"Hah..."
He could scold the impudence, but oddly, Julius felt no urge to. Instead, this brazen grandson struck him as cute.
'Have I ever heard such a thing in my life?'
He had six sons and three daughters. Before Kyle, three grandsons and one granddaughter.
Yet no child or grandchild had ever demanded "play" from him. Before patriarch, before father or grandfather, he was Alastor's strongest, most exalted leader—and his descendants treated him as such.
Even Kartan, Katarina, and Barkas—born before he became patriarch—had feared him from youth. That's the father Julius was.
"Hah..."
Before becoming patriarch, as mere father, Julius had driven himself mercilessly to claim the role. Fatherhood came, but he prioritized being Alastor's head over a doting dad.
As patriarch, he pushed harder. Alastor's head ruled Gladiheim, lord over thousands of knights and soldiers, sovereign of Vigrid's hundreds of thousands.
Alastor, hailed as the continent's greatest martial house, drew admiration and enmity alike. Julius couldn't afford softness. He'd lived as a hard, sharp blade.
Thus, his five-year-old grandson's words felt alien, bewildering. Yet they stirred a rare, subtle joy.
"Very well."
He couldn't ignore the pleasure. Nor those bright, expectant eyes gazing up. Chuckling, Julius patted Kyle's shoulder.
"Grandpa will play with you. Where to?"
"Sword Apex Hall."
Kyle answered without hesitation.
"Why there? Nothing for you to play with."
"There's a sword."
Kyle grinned. Yes, a sword. That damned growling bastard Fenris was in the Sword Apex Hall.
"Hahaha."
The diners gasped in horror, but Julius laughed quietly. Nodding, he withdrew his hand.
"Understood. To the Sword Apex Hall, then."
Julius resumed walking. Kyle followed the striding patriarch out, then whipped around to wave at Arian.
"Mom! Playing with Grandpa—be back soon!"
"Uh... huh? Oh, okay... uh..."
Arian, mouth agape in bewilderment, finally nodded.