Blades of Ice and a Serpent's Spark
Honestly, it was a little—no, utterly ridiculous. What kind of swordsmanship was this, where swinging a blade unleashed a burst of chill and blooming ice flowers? And they weren't fleeting illusions either; the training ground still bore those ice flowers and icy crosses.
"..."
His past life was already five hundred years ago. An immense span of time, during which mana and magic had woven into civilization itself. Kyle understood that the world had changed, and so had swordsmanship—but
This went far beyond anything he could comprehend. In the Sword Ghost's era, five hundred years past, manipulating mana to produce mystical phenomena that felt like miracles was the domain of mages, not warriors.
Of course, that didn't mean mages were inherently superior to warriors. Warriors simply couldn't manipulate mana or conjure such effects in that way.
What warriors could do was swing their weapons. Swing them to shatter spells. To kill mages. To kill people. Things like that.
It looks like magic... but it's still a sword.
Magic and swordsmanship. Kyle set aside the outdated prejudices from five hundred years ago that distinguished the two. Having reincarnated, he couldn't cling blindly to the past. He was wide open to new learnings.
Especially if they involved swords.
Erica's blade carried an aura. It was close to sword qi.
A refined edge of aura. Imperfect, but Erica's sword was undoubtedly approaching sword qi. Which suggested that this magic-like swordplay wasn't purely magical either. More like a fusion of sword and magic.
"..."
While Kyle pondered with a serious expression, Erica steadied her ragged breathing.
Why no reaction?
She'd squeezed every drop of mana to demonstrate her swordsmanship, yet the response she'd hoped for never came. Naturally, she'd expected awestruck praise from her cheeky nephew, brimming with admiration for his aunt.
"Wow."
Sensing her gaze, Kyle spoke up. It wasn't an empty exclamation; he meant it sincerely.
Though not quite in the direction Erica had hoped.
Today's swords are something else.
Inside Kyle dwelled the Sword Ghost who had dominated five hundred years ago.
Though he'd died in defeat, his life held more victories than losses.
He felt no shame in his final moments.
His opponent had been Ruin Alastor, indisputably the strongest swordsman the Sword Ghost had ever faced. The man who ended forty years of darkness and reshaped the world. Even now, five centuries later, he was revered as the Sword Saint, a legendary figure said to have ascended to the heavens.
The Sword Ghost was the man remembered right up to that Sword Saint's ascension. But setting legends aside, he simply loved swords. He took pride in the blade he'd swung his whole life, until his dying breath.
Yet.
He never believed his own sword was the absolute pinnacle.
The world was vast.
The Sword Ghost loved swords, but he hadn't seen their true limits.
Fortunate to retain all his past life's memories, he'd reincarnated into the perfect environment to learn and love swords anew.
Even if that family bore the name of Ruin Alastor, the man who'd slain him five hundred years ago, the Sword Ghost harbored not a shred of resentment.
They even kept Fenris safe.
Five hundred years—a vast expanse of time.
Changes across eras.
Strange tales of mana cultivation methods and spirit roots.
And through Erica's sword just now, the Sword Ghost calmly acknowledged it.
The world had changed too much. Techniques evolved, people evolved. Magic and mana were no longer strangers; they'd melded into swords.
In short, this era was more advanced than the one the Sword Ghost knew.
Unlike the past, where one had to flirt with death repeatedly for mana’s blessing, now even children awakened their spirit roots at ten and learned cultivation methods to draw forth aura. Even thirteen-year-old Erica was nearing sword qi.
In such a world.
Lamenting the changes would be a waste. The Sword Ghost welcomed them. He never thought his past sword superior by default. He hoped this era's swords surpassed his own.
Only then could learning and clashing be a joy.
"Wow...!"
Kyle exclaimed again, pouring even more genuine excitement into it.
How far would his sword carry him in this era?
What more could he learn and add to it?
That anticipation flushed the boy's cheeks red. He clenched his fist tightly, staring intently at Erica.
"Auntie. Show me your sword once more."
"Uh... sure?"
Erica's eyes widened at her nephew's request. She'd gotten the praise she'd wanted, but she couldn't oblige. Her mana was already on the brink of depletion.
"N-not right now. Later, I'll show you later."
"Why?"
"I... I used up all my strength..."
Erica cleared her throat awkwardly and sheathed her sword.
"So, next time, okay?"
"Yeah, got it."
Mana depletion. Kyle nodded thoughtfully. After blooming those flashy ice flowers and wreaking such havoc, it was no surprise her mana drained fast. The unstable aura suggested her mana control was still immature too.
"So, what'd you think?"
Erica asked as she slotted the sword into its scabbard.
"It was flashy and beautiful."
Kyle answered honestly. Flashy and pretty. Suitable for killing? Practical enough? Hard to say. It might change in real combat, but Erica's display had carried no killing intent.
A thirteen-year-old girl's sword reeking of bloodlust would be its own problem.
In the dark ages, where killing was more routine than eating, maybe.
"Hehe, right?"
Flashy and pretty might irk some, but Erica's lips curved up to her ears.
"Wanna learn it? If you're nicer from now on, Auntie might teach you."
She chuckled smugly.
"Ah~ But you couldn't even if I taught you. You're just a little kid who hasn't awakened your spirit root yet! Too bad, huh? Auntie can swing such flashy, pretty swords, but you're stuck with wooden ones?"
"It's fine. Grandpa plays wooden sword with me."
Erica's smile froze at the retort.
"Even before coming here today, I played with Grandpa for a good while."
"P-played? With wooden swords? With the family head?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Grandpa stands there, and I attack with my wooden sword. He blocks or dodges. Sometimes counterattacks."
"..."
"Then he critiques my swings. Got tons of praise today too."
Erica's eyes flickered wildly. As Julius's youngest daughter, she'd only crossed swords with him in her very early childhood. She believed she shouldn't after that.
"Wanna come with me next time, Auntie?"
As her eyes dimmed sadly, Kyle dropped the teasing and invited her. Erica shook her head in horror.
"N-no, I'm good."
"Grandpa would love it."
"No... no, really, I'm fine."
In Kyle's view, this family's members fixated so much on the patriarch's throne that they overlooked the man himself. Not entirely their fault, though—likely Julius's intent too.
But the throne's occupant was still human. Approach without preconceptions, and Julius was surprisingly approachable.
Though maybe I get special treatment 'cause I'm grown up and awesome.
Still, he wouldn't turn away his youngest daughter if she came to play. Kyle pitied Erica's hunched shoulders. Arian saw it too, her gaze sympathetic.
*
"Remember what I said this morning? About Grandma."
Back at Rose Mansion after dinner at Erica's, fresh from a bath and lying in bed, Arian stroked Kyle's hair as she spoke.
"Grandma fell ill and slipped into slumber ten years ago. Erica was only three then."
Kyle blinked up at her silently.
"Your father was always hard to approach, but Grandma was different. Warm where Grandpa was cold. Honestly, your uncles and aunts preferred her over him. Me too."
Arian smiled faintly, lost in childhood memories.
"When Grandma fell asleep, Grandpa's mood turned vicious... Brothers went out, most of Gladiheim's knights too, scouring for a cure."
"..."
"The Sword Tower's quiet and gloomy now, but back then? Dead silent, pitch dark."
Arian had been nineteen, Roel sixteen, Serros ten. Erica just three.
"I wasn't an adult yet, so I stayed in the tower. That's why Erica likes me. I tried hard to fill Grandma's absence."
"And Grandpa?"
"He... barely left the tenth floor. Guarding sleeping Grandma, searching for a way in his own manner."
"They got along well, huh."
"Haha, of course. Nine kids including me? Harmony was a must."
Arian giggled, tousling Kyle's hair.
"From my view, Grandma understood Grandpa deeply. He's mellowed with age, but back then? Terrifyingly cold. She always smiled before him, though. I wanted that... but marriage doesn't always bend to wishes."
At least Arian couldn't fully comprehend her husband's stubbornness like her mother had.
"Not that I'm blameless. But your dad's worse. Leaves one letter and retreats to seclusion—five years now, no sign of emerging. Right?"
"Yeah... true."
The Erica talk veered to bashing his unseen father, but Kyle nodded agreeably.
Secluding for swords was understandable for a sword lover. But abandoning a wife like Arian for over five years? Deserved the gripe.
"Ahem... got sidetracked into dad-bashing. Anyway, Erica was lonely."
Mother asleep at three. Older siblings roaming beyond the tower. Father glued to her side.
Cocky streak aside, she'd turned out well despite it.
"So, Kyle. Be good to your aunt, okay?"
"Not just with me—I hope she gets close to Grandpa too."
"Mmm. I'd love that, but she finds him too scary..."
"Can I mention Auntie to Grandpa tomorrow?"
Kyle's eyes widened innocently. Arian blinked in surprise, then beamed, kissing his forehead.
"What a sweet heart my boy has. What'll you say?"
"Tell him about Auntie's sword today. Might pique his interest enough to summon her?"
"Hm... maybe. Grandpa's standards for swords are sky-high."
"He praises mine plenty."
"'Cause you're young and cute. Can't help it—you're my baby angel."
Mwah, mwah, mwah. Arian's lips peppered his forehead.
"Then I'll say I wanna play with Auntie, so call her."
"So pretty, too pretty! Pretty face, pretty heart—you're perfect!"
"I like cool over pretty."
"You're cool! Already so handsome! When you grow up, it'll be chaos!"
Mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah... Kyle surrendered to the kiss barrage, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Does the spirit root always awaken exactly at ten?"
He mumbled with eyes closed. Erica's sword had ignited his urge to dive into cultivation and sword arts sooner.
"Yes. Precisely ten years after birth. You'll awaken on your tenth birthday."
It felt oddly peculiar to Kyle. In his Sword Ghost days five centuries ago, no such thing as a spirit root existed. Maybe it had, unknown to him, but not everyone awakened like now. Handling mana required experience, not an organ.
Yet here, everyone awakened a spirit root at ten to wield mana. Five hundred years was long, but universal evolution like this? Eerily bizarre.
"Don't rush. You'll have spirit arts talent too, so once awakened, combining it with cultivation will boost efficiency hugely."
"Spirit arts..."
Arian tried not to push, but Kyle sensed her lingering hope.
"How do you learn spirit arts?"
"You want to learn?!"
"Kinda interested."
Arian lit up. Just yesterday, he'd been indifferent.
"Feeling and communing with spirits is key. Simply put, to contract a wind spirit, commune with the wind a lot."
She hugged him tight, whispering.
"For me, as a kid, I saw a tiny bird in the wind. Others couldn't. That's spirit talent."
"A bird..."
"At first, just glimpses—no touching. But communing with wind let me touch it, feed it mana, befriend it."
"Like a pet."
"Shh!"
Arian's voice dropped.
"Spirits hate being seen as pets. They're older than us humans. Not always mature mentally... but don't treat them like pets. Got it?"
"Yeah."
Kyle murmured sleepily. Bedtime neared. Arian smiled warmly, resuming the kisses.
Mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah.
"I'll teach spirit arts properly next time—communing methods first. Late now, so sleep well. Gotta see Grandpa tomorrow too."
"Okay."
Kyle blinked heavy lids slowly.
"Tomorrow... I'll ask about Auntie..."
"Aaaah! Why's my boy so kind and pretty?!"
Mwahmwahmwahmwah...
Kyle gave in, surrendering to sleep.
That night.
A ticklish—no, stinging sensation on his cheek. At first, he ignored it as some bug, but the persistent prickling forced his eyes open.
"Mom?"
No Arian. What? Kyle rubbed his stinging cheek, squinting sleepily.
Crackle.
A purple spark flared in the dark. Kyle jolted upright. Purple light streaked through the air, swirling before his eyes.
What the hell?
He stared, flustered. Focusing revealed a form within the light.
A tiny snake. Violet, woven of electricity. It wriggled, staring right back.
"What are you?"
Kyle asked, startled, extending a finger. The snake coiled around it eagerly.
Zzt.
Like a shock. It was a shock. Tingling pain raced from fingertip upward, and simultaneously from the necklace at his throat.
Ah.
Kyle realized what the wriggling violet was. Julius's gift: the thunder essence necklace. A gem infused with lightning's core, said to boost affinity for thunder qi just by wearing it.
"You're a spirit, huh."
He tilted his head. As if understanding, the snake wriggled closer, coiling tighter. The initial sharp shock faded; now, no sting at all.