No Openings
The corridor connected to the Sword Apex Hall. In front of the firmly shut iron door stood a man dressed in a pitch-black uniform. He bowed politely to the approaching Julius and offered the two wooden swords he held.
One was a standard adult wooden sword. The other was for a child, far shorter than usual. Kyle immediately recognized that it had been made to fit his own build.
"What do you plan to use the wooden swords for?"
The iron door swung open. As they entered the Sword Apex Hall, Kyle grinned and asked. Julius found his grandson's question adorably cheeky and chuckled softly.
"I only know games played with swords. Did you think this old man was going to give you a piggyback ride or something?"
"That sounds fun too, but playing with swords seems even more fun."
Just as I thought—we're on the same wavelength. Kyle's eyes sparkled as he replied. The wooden sword he'd been handed felt far more comfortable to wield than the one he'd used against Lucia earlier. The length was perfect, and the weight just right. Still, his immature body wouldn't let him get too carried away with it.
[Grrr...]
As he swung the wooden sword a few times, a beastly growl suddenly echoed through the hall.
Fenris was still embedded in the floor of the Sword Apex Hall. Black smoke swirled around it, faintly forming the shape of a wolf—even though they weren't approaching it or trying to grasp the hilt.
'What're you staring at, you mutt?'
The mangy pup's eyes were fixed on the wooden sword in Kyle's hand. It wasn't just staring; the low, threatening rumble grated on his nerves.
'Jealous, huh?'
It bit him whenever he tried to grab it, but now it didn't like him holding another sword? What a selfish beast. Ignoring Fenris's glare, Kyle swung the wooden sword even more ostentatiously.
"So, how shall we play?"
"Hmm."
Thud, thud.
Julius tapped the floor lightly with his lowered wooden sword as he spoke.
"I gave you these wooden swords because the only games I know involve swords. But I've never played with a child as young as you, so I have no idea how to go about it."
"How about a sword fight?"
Kyle asked with a bright smile.
"A sword... fight?"
"Yes. A sword fight."
"You want to have a sword fight with this old man, for fun?"
"Yes."
Julius let out a hollow laugh as he glanced between his own wooden sword and Kyle. He'd been thinking of maybe teaching the boy a few basic swings. He never imagined those words—"sword fight"—coming from his grandson's mouth.
"Do you know who I am?"
"My grandfather."
"Before that, I'm the head of the Alastor family. Do you understand what that means?"
"The strongest person here."
"Why only the strongest here?"
"There might be stronger people in the wider world. I haven't met them yet."
"Haha..."
It was brutally honest. Should he scold the boy for his impertinence? It was bold enough to warrant it, but Julius didn't want to. He gazed steadily into Kyle's innocently pure eyes and said,
"You're right. The world is vast, and there are many strong ones."
In this era, there were ten superhumans known as the Ten Strongest, including Julius himself.
Opinions varied on who among the Ten was truly the strongest.
They had never clashed in a battle to the death.
"Why don't they compete?"
"Because they all have too much to protect."
Julius replied with a wry smile. He himself bore the weight of the Alastor family on his shoulders.
"Also, because the era is peaceful—at least on the surface. Full-scale wars don't break out, and they shouldn't. If this old man waged all-out war on one of the other Ten, the rest would intervene. Or try to profit from it."
A peaceful era. Even the superhumans called the Ten Strongest were bound by their backgrounds, politics, and the greater balance of power.
Kyle understood Julius's words in his heart. When you're tangled up in too many things, your freedom of movement suffers. In his past life, once the Crow Mercenary Corps grew too large, he couldn't live as he pleased and had quit as its leader.
If even a mercenary corps felt that heavy and cumbersome, a family must be all the more so.
"So, since Grandfather has so much to protect, you can't even have a sword fight with me?"
"That's... not it, you cheeky little rascal."
Julius chuckled and raised his wooden sword.
"It's just that I've never played swords with someone as young as you. I truly have no clue how to do it."
"I'll attack you, Grandfather."
Kyle grinned and raised his wooden sword.
"You just block my attacks. How's that?"
"Haha..."
The Continental Ten Strongest—one of the twin pillars of swordsmanship alongside the Sword Church Leader. And here was his grandson proposing this so casually. How was he supposed to react? Julius had no answer, so he could only laugh softly.
"Very well. Come at me once."
Julius held his sword low, waiting for Kyle's attack. His stance was relaxed overall, shoulders dropped lightly, center of gravity loose. To the eye, it looked like he was simply holding the sword in one hand.
'Attack' wasn't hard. Just close the distance to where the sword could reach and swing—or thrust. Success aside, any motion that threatened the opponent could be called an attack.
But even though it should have been that simple, Kyle didn't move. He stood still, staring not just at Julius's eyes, but his entire body. Julius didn't urge his silent grandson; he simply waited, standing calmly.
"Grandfather."
After a long moment of holding his sword, twitching all over but not attacking, the boy finally spoke.
"There's no place to attack."
"...!"
"This won't work as a game. Open up somewhere for me to strike."
It was audacious.
And an astonishing demand. Julius gaped blankly at Kyle before barely suppressing his emotions and forcing out his voice.
"No place... to attack?"
"Yes. I can't see any."
"You're... seeing it?"
"Yes."
It was absurd.
No openings visible? Of course—because Julius had none.
Even with a wooden sword in hand and facing his five-year-old grandson, Julius was the head of the Alastor family. One of the Continental Ten Strongest. Even in this loose, unpowered stance, Julius Alastor had no flaws.
It was only natural, yet the one pointing it out was a mere five-year-old child. Who had picked up a sword for the first time today, no less.
He'd watched the boy spar with Lucia earlier. His grandson undoubtedly had talent for the sword.
It was astonishing talent, but now Julius felt even greater shock.
This young grandson wasn't charging in blindly for "fun." He was calmly searching for openings in Julius.
In other words, even in this standoff, he clearly understood what he needed to do—and how to attack.
"..."
Julius closed his gaping mouth and lowered his sword completely. Now he wasn't even holding it. Visually, he was full of openings. But Kyle still didn't lunge. Instead, he furrowed his brow and puffed out his cheeks.
"I asked you to show an opening, but now it's even harder to attack."
"An open...ing."
Julius couldn't help but laugh. His grandson wasn't just looking at his stance—he was sensing the subtle pressure Julius exuded.
Five years old. Before spirit root awakening. Sensitive children could sometimes sense mana without one, but his grandson's 'sense' far surpassed that. It was the honed instinct of a veteran warrior who'd danced with death over years of swinging swords.
Julius slowly raised his sword. His posture shifted slightly. Muscle tension changed, and his pressure subtly altered. Intentionally, he created an opening that seemed attackable.
'This old fox...'
Kyle felt Julius's left thigh open up. It looked that way on the surface. But it was too obvious a trap. Thrusting there would invite an immediate counter.
Knowing that, Kyle still stepped forward boldly. The moment he closed the distance, he thrust his sword. He aimed for the gap Julius had deliberately opened. Sure enough, Julius countered the instant Kyle thrust.
Clack!
Julius's eyes trembled faintly. Kyle hadn't thrust all the way; he'd blocked Julius's sword. Julius, who had meant to lightly tap his grandson's shoulder with the wooden sword, asked in a voice full of surprise.
"Why'd you stop thrusting?"
"You weren't going to let me land it, Grandfather."
"You saw through that?"
"Is it that hard?"
Kyle replied with a sulky expression. This was a game. Julius was going easy on his young grandson. If he got serious, Kyle wouldn't even find an opening—he'd faint from the sheer pressure.
That pricked at Kyle's—no, the Sword Ghost's—pride. If possible, he wanted to face Julius with his past life's prime body.
"You're cheating, Grandfather."
Kyle grumbled, still sulky.
"You pretended to open a spot, but you were trying to hit me. If I'd fallen for it and thrust, I'd have gotten tagged by your sword."
"Haha..."
Julius felt a thrilling joy swell in his chest. When was the last time he'd felt this? When Kartan first gripped a sword and swung it? When Katarina exceeded his expectations?
No—this was far greater joy. This five-year-old grandson was surpassing his expectations in the happiest way possible.
"So, is playing with this old man no fun?"
Normally, he'd compose himself for the patriarch's dignity. But now, Julius didn't even consider it. He kept laughing as he asked Kyle.
"No, it's fun. That's why I'm mad."
"Mad? Why?"
"Because I'm too young."
Kyle answered honestly.
"If I were older, I could swing the sword better. With longer limbs, a longer sword than this."
"..."
"Right now, I haven't awakened my spirit root or learned any mana cultivation methods. I haven't studied any sword techniques either. That's why I'm mad and frustrated."
"What exactly frustrates you?"
"My body won't do what I want."
Kyle sighed deeply.
"Look—my limbs are already shaking. And my head hurts."
It was true. If Kyle had treated the standoff with Julius as mere 'play' and swung wildly like a proper five-year-old, he wouldn't be this exhausted. But he'd called it 'play' while facing Julius with the mindset of real combat.
Standing against a flawless Julius. His five-year-old body had tensed up. Muscles kept contracting, body hairs stood on end, his whole body prickling. Kyle wasn't just staring at the sharp sword called Julius—he was trying to clash against it as a sword himself.
All that overloaded his immature body. Kyle wiped the cold sweat beading on his forehead. His head spun, his whole body heavy like wet cotton. Finally, he sighed deeply and plopped down where he stood.
"If I were older, I could've had even more fun with you, Grandfather..."
At those words.
"Haha... hahaha!"
Julius couldn't help but burst into loud laughter. His grandson's cheeky words were ridiculous yet endearing. Still laughing heartily, Julius set down his wooden sword.
"You mean if you were older, you could swing the sword even better than now?"
Julius sensed his grandson's words weren't mere whining or complaints. The boy was genuinely frustrated at being only five years old.
"Better than this old man, you think?"
Julius's eyes flashed sharply. His other grandchildren—no, even eldest son Kartan—would struggle to breathe and avert their gaze before that look.
"That."
But the five-year-old didn't flinch from Julius's eyes. Sweat pouring, body instinctively shrinking, twitching all over—he still answered steadily.
"We'll see when the time comes."
It was impertinent, but to Julius, it was pure delight.
"Arian's given birth to a treasure."
Julius muttered with booming laughter.