The Demon King's Sword

Demon King.

The literal meaning: the king of the demon race, ruler of Erebos across the northern sea from their homeland.

In that era, demons had invaded the continent amid the chaos, but unfortunately, the Sword Ghost never lived in the same time as the Demon King.

To be precise, the Demon King did exist during the Sword Ghost's lifetime, but he hadn't ventured onto the continent. According to history, the one called the "Sword Saint" departed Erebos, crossed the sea, and reached the continent—after the Sword Ghost's death, after the Empire stabilized, as peace returned to the land.

Ruin Alastor, who earned the title of Sword Saint, confronted the Demon King and his forces here in northern Vigrid. They drew their swords and dueled.

Neither emerged victorious. After days of battle, the Sword Saint and Demon King sheathed their blades.

The Dragon King and the Elf Queen, who had observed the duel, joined the Sword Saint and Demon King in talks.

The Demon King promised not to "invade" the continent as before, and the demons were accepted as part of it. Thus, the demons' homeland—Erebos—crossed the sea and drew near the continent.

—What that meant, quite literally, was exactly that. Erebos, the vast land far across the ocean where the demon nation lay, had crossed the sea to approach the continent.

This happened fully 500 years ago. The demons, with Erebos as their home base, began interacting with the continent and received northern islands from the Imperial Emperor. In this modern age, demons could be seen almost anywhere on the continent.

"The Demon King's sword..."

Kyle murmured softly, gazing at Baal. That savage, butcher-knife-like blade, perfect for slicing through human flesh, seemed to fit the epithet "the Demon King's sword" all too well.

"Why did the Demon King plant his sword here?"

"They say it was a message left for our founder—a vow to remember him. Or perhaps the reverse: a plea for the founder to remember him."

Katarina's golden eyes sharpened as she stared at Baal.

"Our founder had long since broken his old sword and kept only Fenris at his side. The Demon King wanted him to take Baal, but he refused. So Baal was planted in the Sword Garden."

"Did the Demon King say that himself?"

"No. It's speculation from later generations."

Katarina shook her head.

"Why the Demon King suddenly visited Gladiheim. What he discussed with our founder. Why he planted Baal here before leaving. He left no words on any of it."

"..."

"But our founder called Baal, planted here, a sword worth remembering. Though he never kept it at his side till the end."

Kyle's lips twitched at that. The fact that Ruin had kept only Fenris till the end delighted him.

"So in the end, no one knows why this sword's planted here."

"Exactly. No historical records. But it's true that the Sword Garden began with Baal."

The Demon King planted his sword and left. Ruin Alastor deemed it a blade worth remembering and left it be. Thereafter, a tradition arose in Gladiheim of planting weapons of memorable vassals or worthy foes here, and the garden earned its name: Sword Garden.

"Why was such a storied sword hidden away?"

"Because it's dangerous."

Katarina answered instantly.

"Baal is a true demon sword, unlike Fenris. It tempts people—especially swordsmen—to grasp it. Yield to that temptation, seize Baal, and you lose your reason, consumed by murderous rage."

Katarina's hand gently stroked Lucia's shoulder. Lucia, who had been staring at Baal with glazed eyes, startled and regained her clarity.

"If your mind isn't steadfast, you'll fall to Baal's temptation. It'd be safer to pull it out and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hide it from sight... but as I said, Baal holds many symbolic meanings. We can't just discard it, so we veiled and sealed it instead."

"Sealed..."

"Baal is still sealed even now. You just can't see it."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, staring at Baal. As Katarina said, no seal was visible to him.

"How did you find Baal?"

A prickling gaze stabbed into the back of his head. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Katarina—still resting a hand on Lucia's shoulder to calm her—glaring with eyes sharp as sword tips.

"Even if you're favored by the family head, he wouldn't have told you about Baal. Did Arian say something?"

"Baal was looking at me."

Kyle answered honestly.

"That's all there is to it. It's not like I can't enter the Sword Garden."

"Purebloods can go anywhere in Gladiheim. But Baal... looked at you?"

Katarina frowned, shifting her gaze to Baal.

"Has the seal weakened? No, that can't be..."

"It's got nothing to do with the seal. More like... a goblin was peeking at me?"

Katarina fell silent at his tilted-head mutter. The special talent of this new nephew. A spirit affinity like Arian's—no, something beyond even hers.

"Does Baal have a goblin too?"

"It's an old sword."

At least 500 years, conservatively. Not just aged, but the Demon King's own blade. If even Fenris, the Sword Ghost's beloved sword, had a goblin spirit, there was no reason Baal wouldn't.

"I don't know the exact form of your talent. But don't touch Baal."

"Why?"

"You're asking the obvious. Because it's dangerous."

Katarina's voice grew sterner.

"Didn't you hear me? Baal is a true demon sword, unlike Fenris."

"I heard everything, Aunt. But has anyone actually gone mad from grabbing that sword?"

"Yes."

He'd thought maybe it was like the speculation about the Demon King's intent—just exaggeration. But Katarina answered without hesitation.

"After our founder ascended. Over ten fell to Baal's wiles, gripping the hilt and losing their minds. Even among them were Alastor collaterals and purebloods."

"I see."

No lie there. Kyle nodded, looking back at Baal.

Could a sword really bewitch people into madness? Being the Demon King's sword, maybe. Legends of demon swords that ensnared folk into bloodlust were common even 500 years ago.

'Fenris was just a sword, but it had a goblin. A demon sword probably exists too.'

But.

'I don't think I'd go mad...'

That's what he felt. To go mad from gripping a sword? Kyle—no, the Sword Ghost—was too familiar with blades, too loving of them. He'd cut down countless in his past life, and none of it was madness-driven.

"Don't touch Baal."

Katarina warned again. She'd noticed her young nephew's eyes sparkling like a kid eyeing a shiny new toy.

She cherished and loved talented children. Especially if it was her sister's son, favored by the family head. But she wouldn't indulge him in everything. The more gifted, the stricter the guidance.

"I won't touch. I'll just look."

He answered like that.

'Hey.'

But in his mind, Kyle called out to Baal. He strongly focused on the talent dwelling in this body—the one that drew out Fenris's goblin, sensed the "gazes" from the Sword Garden's weapons. It was like consciously flexing a nonexistent tail or wing.

'You looked at me first. So why're you quiet now?'

Flirting first, then clamming up? The Demon King's sword was shyer than expected? Glaring at Baal with that thought, Kyle pressed.

'Say something...'

Thump.

Thump, thump.

His heart raced on its own. Just like when he'd seen the wolf in Fenris. The surroundings blurred. Katarina's sharp gaze faded, while the Sword Garden's "gazes" intensified.

Blood-red mist swirled around Baal. The silver blade's long blood groove filled with crimson. The red then snaked out like veins across the entire edge.

Already ferocious-looking, it grew even more grotesque. Then, at the blade's center, an eye appeared.

A black iris slit by a yellow line. Baal's "eye" stared at Kyle.

Baal's voice echoed in Kyle's head.

"It talks, huh."

Kyle muttered in surprise. Katarina's presence was gone. Like with Fenris, he was resonating with Baal now. This conversation wasn't shared with others.

Baal's eye flashed. Whoosh! Horrific killing intent bore down on Kyle.

"Liar. Lucia's eyes glazed over looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at you."

"Never tempted a human?"

"So it is true grabbing you drives folks nuts."

"How superior are you to call everyone else inferior?"

Baal's voice was genderless, ageless. But the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fury in it was clear.

Soon Baal asked. It had unleashed killing intent, yet this brat hadn't pissed himself or paled.

"Killing intent's old hat."

Kyle shrugged indifferently. Now he got why it was a demon sword. This much malice without even being held to the throat? Any normal mind would shatter just from gripping it.

But Kyle wasn't normal.

"Delusional idiots thinking one new sword makes 'em strong or worthy—how great could their minds be?"

Kyle snorted mockingly. Baal fell silent, then scoffed.

"Watch your words. Didn't you flirt first? Staring at me the whole time."

Kyle glanced around. The blood-mist from resonating with Baal. Beyond it, the Sword Garden weapons' gazes pressed in.

"Not just you. All these guys are staring too."

"So what? I flirted first?"

Baal's eye narrowed.

"You haven't heard the outside world, huh. I'm the youngest grandson in this house."

"From what you say, it almost sounds like I flirted first—but that wasn't my intent, so whatever."

Kyle turned on his heel. He'd confirmed what he wanted. This body had goblin affinity. The Sword Garden weapons had their own goblins. Not sure about every blade, but this was enough for now.

As Kyle parted the blood-mist to leave, Baal urgently stopped him.

"Aunt said no."

"What, you'd like that?"

Kyle grinned back at Baal. The eye on its blade widened.

"Five."

"Stuck here 500 years ago, and you know about maturity? Other goblins tell you?"

Baal stared silently. Kyle took it as confirmation. Stuck in the Sword Garden for centuries, they'd chatted among themselves.

"Nah."

Clearly never rejected before, Baal's eye bulged.

"Yeah."

"If I grab you—"

Kyle smirked teasingly.

"Grandpa'll chew me out. Aunt too."

"And your attitude's too arrogant. Beg properly, and maybe. What? 'When the time comes'? Sorry, I don't need stuck-up swords."

The best swords molded perfectly to the hand, swung at will. High-and-mighty types boasting superiority? Not Kyle's taste.

'Fenris is the exception. That mutt was always mine.'

Now it dared lord over him, biting his arm and body instead of crawling. But once this body matured, he'd retrain it into the obedient sword it once was.

"I'll be in the Sword Garden often. Might chat if I'm in the mood."

Still.

He wasn't entirely uninterested in Baal. The arrogant bluster grated, but as a goblin with will... taming it later might reveal the Demon King's swordsmanship, its original master's art.

That thrilled Kyle's heart. Not now, though. No immediate use, and this body couldn't handle it yet. Plus, Julius's permission was needed.

'Earn the right, and I can claim Baal too.'

With that thought, Kyle pushed through the red mist. It dispersed.

Beyond it, countless gazes. The Sword Garden weapons. Goblins of different forms, bound to blades, stared fixedly at Kyle.

'I can learn from those guys too.'

Reincarnation was truly a blessing. Kyle reaffirmed the thought he'd had many times.

Dispersing the last of the mist and stepping out—

Kyle blinked. As expected. His mind had left his body, resonating with Baal. He flashed an awkward smile at Katarina, who loomed right in front, eyes wide at his level.

"Aunt. What's up?"

"What did you just do?"

"Huh? Something happen?"

"Baal bled red."

Grip.

Katarina seized Kyle's shoulder hard.

"And you stared at it with vacant eyes. You... bewitched by Baal?"

"We talked a bit."

"Talked? You've been bewitched!"

"No, not bewitched... Just messed with it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little, normally."

"What do you... "

"Baal wants me to tell you: it never tempted anyone. Folks grabbed it themselves and went nuts. It's innocent."

"What?"

Katarina's mouth fell open. Then she bit her lip and slapped Kyle's cheek.

"Snap out of it! Don't let Baal bewitch you!"

A sudden slap. And it stung. Rubbing his smarting cheek, Kyle looked up at her with aggrieved eyes.

"I'm not bewitched. I'm fine."

"What you just said isn't fine!"

How to prove his sanity? Kyle pondered, then faced her seriously.

"Aunt. Okay, let me go for a sec."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Prove I'm not mad."

"How...?"

"If you don't believe me, hold my hand and come closer to Baal."

"Closer to Baal...? You're definitely...!"

"Aunt."

She seemed cold on the surface. But Katarina was a worrier, surprisingly. Kyle met her eyes firmly.

"Trust me."

This near-stranger nephew's earnest gaze gave her pause. Katarina hesitated, then nodded. Taking his hand, she cautiously approached Baal.

"How exactly are you proving...?"

Before she finished, Kyle kicked Baal's blade. Clang! Elixir-forged bones and muscles delivered a heavy blow unchildlike, but the deep-planted Baal merely shook, untoppled.

Clang! Kyle kicked again. Katarina's eyes bulged at the swaying sword.

Clang! One more kick, and Katarina yanked him back in horror.

"You—you...! What are you doing...!"

"See? Not mad."

Kyle said calmly.

"Believe me now?"

It might make her doubt him more, but luckily, Katarina just gaped, no longer questioning his mind.

"My cheek hurts from your slap."

"That was..."

Katarina sighed shortly, covering his struck left cheek with her hand.

"Sorry."

A brief but sincere apology.