The Demon King's First Sword
After leaving the Sword Apex Hall, Kyle pondered whether to head first to the grand library on the second floor or to the Sword Garden in front of the Sword Tower. In the end, he turned toward the Sword Tower's doors.
He'd sweated buckets sparring with Julius using wooden swords, so a cool breeze sounded perfect. Plus, he'd spent the past three days cooped up inside the tower since arriving—he was itching to step outside.
The winds on the fourth floor feel similar to the outside, but it's still inside the tower, after all.
The massive front doors of the Sword Tower slid open smoothly as Kyle approached and laid a hand on them. A refreshing chill greeted him outside, cooling the sweat on his skin. Stretching languidly, he headed toward the Sword Garden, not far from the tower.
The tombstones of swords.
The flowerbed of blades.
Not every weapon planted in the Sword Garden was a sword, but most were. As the garden drew nearer, Kyle felt a swell of emotion gazing at the scene.
Each of those weapons had once been gripped and swung by someone. Some had offered unwavering loyalty as vassals of the Alastors; others had challenged them and fallen in defeat.
If he had to pick a side to empathize with, Kyle sided with the losers. He'd challenged the Alastor founder himself and died in defeat, after all. In a way, Kyle—or rather, the Sword Ghost—could be called one of the Sword Garden's founding "flowers."
Hm?
Kyle's steps halted as he neared the garden. Amid the weapons planted at generous intervals, a girl with a single horn and an apron bent low, absorbed in her task.
Lucia. She was meticulously polishing the garden's weapons. As Kyle strode boldly into the Sword Garden, she looked up.
"Greetings, Kyle."
Lucia straightened and bowed politely.
"What're you up to?"
"As you can see, I'm cleaning."
Lucia replied in a mature tone. At just eight years old, her speech and demeanor outshone even thirteen-year-old Erica.
"Doesn't look dirty enough to need cleaning."
Kyle glanced between the cloth in Lucia's hand and the weapons. The cloth was spotless, and the weapons gleamed without a speck of grime.
"Excluding the Sword Tower itself, this is Gladiheim's most honorable place. The weapons here never rust with time or gather dust in the wind."
"Then why bother polishing them?"
"For self-cultivation."
Lucia said with pride.
"One day, I'll become a knight and pledge my loyalty to the Alastors. And I'll leave my weapon here for sure."
"Hm..."
"Thanks to the family head and the elders' grace, I live in the Sword Tower. From a young age, I've trained to control the demon blood in my veins. But no matter how hard I train, that half-demon heritage lingers in my body."
It was a heavy burden for a girl who'd been born that way, yet Lucia spoke without a tremor.
"These weapons don't need polishing, but by caring for them, I purify my own heart."
"Oh..."
Impressed by her eloquence, Kyle clapped his hands together. Lucia shyly averted her gaze.
"But not all the weapons here belong to knights loyal to the family."
The Sword Garden held blades from those who'd challenged and threatened the Alastors, too.
"That... doesn't matter. Polishing their weapons helps me cultivate my mind."
"Does it help?"
"Yes, it does."
Demons held many advantages over humans. Five hundred years ago, they wielded mana naturally from birth, cast spells effortlessly, and boasted superior physiques.
That's why they sneered at humans as the "inferior race." But demons weren't superior in every way.
They had two fatal flaws: mana addiction and madness erosion.
Born to handle mana, demons collapsed if they overused it. Emotions ran wild in battle, shredding their reason.
The demons Kyle had faced often fell to both at once—raging in madness without discernment, then self-destructing from mana overload.
The madness erosion was the real killer. Unhinged demons couldn't tell friend from foe.
Without those weaknesses, the continent would've fallen to them long ago.
As a half-breed, does she inherit those flaws strongly... or weakly?
If the former, Lucia had rough times ahead—like living with a ticking time bomb. Kyle studied her face intently.
Five hundred years back, demons were invaders exploiting the continent's chaos, hated by all. But the Sword Ghost rather liked them.
They were fun to fight. It wasn't just demons—all non-humans were. Demon swordsmen, elf mages, orc warriors, beastkin martial artists. They offered flavors humans lacked, pushing him to the brink time and again.
And I lost plenty, too.
Though he'd paid them all back. In that sense, Kyle took a keen interest in Lucia. Undeniable sword talent, demon hybrid uniqueness, and young age to boot. Raised right, she'd grow into a thrilling powerhouse.
"Kyle? Is there something on my face?"
Having stared so long, Lucia asked cautiously.
"Nah, nothing."
Kyle stepped deeper into the garden. Lucia hesitated, then edged back.
"Keep at it. You're cultivating, right?"
"Don't I... make you uncomfortable?"
Her hesitant question caught him off guard. Kyle tilted his head, turning to her.
"Didn't we have a blast three days ago? Swordplay, touring the first floor. Why bring it up now?"
"You didn't know what being a demon hybrid meant back then."
"I knew enough."
"And the first-floor tour... was on the family head's orders. Even you were just following..."
"Nope."
Lucia blinked rapidly, struggling for words before murmuring softly.
"Yesterday... you heard what Bruno and Bekiuss said."
"Heard it. Worthless drivel—not worth remembering."
"..."
"Is it so weird for me to be nice to you? The family head and elders look out for you, Aunt Katarina too. And yesterday, Vivian was hanging around you, right?"
Vivian was Kyle's elder cousin by two years, but he called her by name casually.
"They're only kind because they see me as insignificant still. And Lady Vivian is just very compassionate..."
"I'm compassionate too."
Kyle grinned.
"Here's my take: the family head and elders treat you well not because you're 'insignificant.' It's the family creed."
"..."
"I've only been here three days, but I get how things work. Strength is everything. No strength now? Fine—if you've got potential to grow strong, they treat you accordingly. Right?"
Lucia's lips parted in daze.
"So I don't get your attitude. Purebloods deserve respect, sure—but weaklings without merit too? If you'd smashed that fox-faced punk Bekiuss yesterday, who would've gotten blamed? You, or the sniveling crybaby?"
"Th-that's..."
"If Bekiuss ran crying to Uncle Kartan after? Would he punish you? Nah. Here, getting beaten when you're weak is the mistake. If Bekiuss whined he couldn't fight back, Grandpa wouldn't forgive him."
"That's... too irreverent. Something a wretch like me must never do."
"Exactly—irreverent. Taboo for a freeloader like you. But breaking taboos is what makes it fun. And once you do, it's not such a big deal."
Kyle chuckled, surveying the weapons.
"Anyway, that's why you're no bother to me. Hanging with you beat messing with my oversized cousin any day. I think you'll outshine Bruno someday—as a knight. If you grow up right."
A five-year-old kid three years her junior said it, yet Lucia felt no disconnect.
"Anyway, I'm not uncomfortable around you, so no need to avoid me. Unless I'm the problem?"
"N-no, you're not."
"Then quit minding me and cultivate. We'll spar and play sometimes."
"But you're busy..."
"Busy or not, I'll make time. Told you—fun hanging out."
He couldn't visit Julius daily forever. Plenty else to do, sure, but playing with Lucia had been fun—no lie.
She'll get strong like this. Nurture her right, even stronger.
The Sword Ghost grew through real combat. Rivalry accelerated growth best.
Kyle wanted to raise this talented demon half-breed into a future rival.
And bolster my allies.
The Sword Tower was survival of the fittest, in a way. Erica, the youngest daughter, showed no interest in leading, but the other relatives? They'd eye the sudden five-year-old nephew hogging the family head's favor.
To avoid getting stepped on, become too big and heavy to crush. Solid allies helped.
"Un...derstood."
A faint smile touched Lucia's lips.
"If you ever want to play, just call for me. I can't come to you."
"Got it."
Kyle grinned back, then properly toured the weapons. Thirty-three in total. Swords dominated, but axes, spears—even a mage's staff—stood among them.
Swords drew his eye most. He stopped before a massive greatsword. Human-sized? No way. The blade dwarfed two grown men stacked.
"That's Behemoth."
Lucia, polishing nearby, spoke up softly.
"The beloved sword of Beast King Graf, who sought to conquer Gladiheim three hundred years ago."
Next, a slender curved blade with a faint blue glow—beautiful yet eerie.
"That's Blue Moon. Beloved sword of a knight from the elegy knight order who served the Alastors two hundred years ago."
Many blades caught his eye.
They drew his gaze. Certain swords stirred a desire to look closer, as if pulling his attention. Kyle smirked amid the odd sensation.
Confirmed. The "goblins" weren't unique to Fenris. But the pull was weaker—no pounding heartbeat like with Fenris.
Just persistent glances. An itch deep inside. Focusing, Kyle scanned again.
One, two.
"Eyes" from the swords. Then it clicked—this wasn't him seeking them. They sought him. Those nonexistent gazes resonated with the goblins within him.
Who are you?
Among the garden's thirty-three flowers, he closed his eyes to find the most insistent stare.
Don't just stare—speak up. Let me hear you.
The itch turned to chills, shuddering through him. Then, one gaze sharpened. Kyle opened his eyes and turned.
A single-edged blade—not double. A dao, ideal for cleaving. Like a giant butcher knife, but savage enough for whole humans.
How had he missed something so vicious? Striding over, Lucia trailed anxiously.
"Kyle? What..."
"This one."
He pointed. Lucia's eyes widened at the sword.
"What's its name?"
"Uh... um..."
She faltered. Kyle frowned, puzzled.
"D-don't know. I've... never seen this weapon in the Sword Garden."
"Never?"
"Yes... it wasn't there until just now."
"Hm."
Kyle tilted his head, examining it. Her words sounded off, yet made sense. Even he hadn't noticed it three days ago—or moments ago sweeping the garden.
Just overlooked it? No—too brutal to miss.
"Its name is Baal."
A voice from behind. Katarina Alastor, Julius's eldest daughter, stood there.
"The sword that started the Sword Garden."
"Hello, Aunt Katarina."
Kyle greeted politely first. Nodding slightly, she faced his question about Baal.
"What do you mean, 'started the Sword Garden'?"
"Baal was the first sword planted here."
Katarina explained.
"Five hundred years ago, before the founder ascended, the Demon King visited Gladiheim and planted Baal right there." {@PIC:810548}