The Great Library of Sword Arts
“Got it.”
Katarina Alastor. She was the eldest daughter among the nine children Julius had sired, and the second-born after Kartan.
Katarina had apologized sincerely. Sure, she'd slapped him out of nowhere, but from her perspective, it had been out of worry for her young nephew. Kyle wasn't petty enough to hold a grudge over it.
“Where are you headed?”
As he prepared to leave the Sword Garden, Katarina asked with an expression that still brimmed with regret.
“To the second-floor library.”
“The library...? You?”
“Yeah. Grandpa gave me permission.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his answer. For a five-year-old who hadn't even awakened his spirit root to gain access to the second-floor library—it was unheard of. The nephew Arian had brought with her kept astonishing Katarina in all sorts of ways.
“Auntie.”
Kyle fixed her with a steady gaze and spoke up.
“Can I come here from now on and look at Baal too?”
“Well...”
“If you're still worried, you can watch over me yourself.”
“Sigh.”
Katarina let out a short sigh and shook her head.
“I'm not idle enough to keep an eye on you all the time. Instead, when you're staying in the Sword Garden..., a funeral knight will watch over you.”
“That's fine.”
Kyle glanced at Lucia. She'd been briefly mesmerized by Baal, but her eyes were back to their usual steady calm. Confirming that, he took one last look around the Sword Garden.
Baal's form from moments ago was gone, but if he focused his intent, he could vaguely make it out. The seal was holding strong, it seemed.
“See you next time.”
He gave Katarina a polite bow, then waved to Lucia.
The grand library on the second floor of the Sword Tower. As the elevator doors opened, the librarian Nelia greeted Kyle.
“I've heard from the family head.”
Nelia smiled softly and took Kyle's hand, leading him forward. The massive bookshelves visible below the lobby stretched out in vast array. He'd seen them before, but the sheer scale was still breathtaking.
“You're the first in Alastor history to enter the grand library at such a young age.”
Nelia caressed the railing. With a rumble, the floor separated and began floating over the shelves.
“The family head has permitted you access to fifth-grade sword manuals. From now on, if you touch the railing like that, the floor will move and guide you to the fifth-grade shelves.”
“There sure are a lot of books.”
Five hundred years' worth, and these were only the ones the Alastors had deemed valuable. Even so, it felt like there were too many.
“They're continually added. Multiple people read one book, find its flaws, and write revised versions. If you can grasp it, comparing originals and revisions could be quite enjoyable.”
“Not just purebloods can enter the grand library, then?”
“If you rack up achievements or earn recognition, even non-purebloods can enter. Though they can't linger as freely as purebloods.”
There were privileges for purebloods, but they didn't monopolize everything outright. Stagnation would set in otherwise, and no martial house could maintain the continent's top prestige for five centuries that way.
In other words, even a branch family member could become the Alastor family head if they had the strength. But no such case existed in five hundred years of history.
To prevent branches from usurping the headship. To reign absolutely over vassals. Purebloods had to endure immense pressure and temper themselves. Moreover, the Alastor 'bloodline' had been refined over five centuries to grow ever stronger.
“The fifth-grade sword manuals are gathered over here. Anything else you're curious about?”
“Nope, that's all.”
“You're far sharper than Arian was at your age. So cute and promising. If you get hungry while reading, call for me anytime. I'll bring you tasty snacks.”
Nelia smiled warmly, patted Kyle's head, and rode the separated floor back to the lobby.
This damn tower never gets less disorienting.
It had only been three days since he'd arrived at the Sword Tower, so it was unavoidable. Kyle touched the railing, getting a feel for the controls. Think up, and it rose; down, and it descended; side, and it slid sideways.
The shelves towered like insurmountable walls to his five-year-old body, but with the railing moving as commanded, inspecting them was no trouble.
There were three shelves in total. Roughly counting, each held about five hundred books. Fifth-grade—the lowest rank—and sword manuals alone numbered fifteen hundred. Kyle stuck out his tongue at the sheer volume and approached the first manual that caught his eye.
Gale Wind Sword Technique.
A brazen name. Back in his day, five hundred years ago, there must've been at least ten sword arts with that title floating around.
What, this many?
There were seven manuals named Gale Wind Sword Technique. Kyle pulled out the first one and flipped it open.
A technique whose form was obvious from the name alone. And it delivered. The Gale Wind Sword Technique pursued wind-like speed, composed of crisp slashes and straight thrusts.
Not just moves—mana operation is detailed too.
Swing the arm to guide the sword while simultaneously circulating mana within the body. Describing that process naturally lengthened the explanations. Kyle nodded and pulled out another Gale Wind.
The first was the original text. This one was a revision. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the pages.
Same moves, but different mana flow.
Five hundred years ago, Kyle had wielded mana too. Through countless battles and brushes with death, he'd earned mana’s blessing.
That blessing formed a mana core—a crystal—in the heart. Once formed, you fought on as before, overcoming death's edge to gradually expand the core's mana.
Easy to say, brutal in practice. Core growth was agony that made death seem merciful. First channeling mana, or slightly altering its flow—either ripped the body apart in thousands of shards of pain. Like muscle growth, in a way.
Endure that torment, swing the sword, fight, survive. Mana’s blessing was the reward for such ordeals.
This era's mana circulation is definitely different.
Just from stories of spirit roots, he'd guessed—but now he knew exactly how five hundred years had changed mana use.
Spirit root awakening attuned the body to ambient mana, drawn in via cultivation methods. Back then, mana piled in the heart's core; now, it gathered in the lower dantian in the lower abdomen.
No need for brutal combat or death-defying trials. Cultivation methods stably formed a core in the lower dantian and accumulated mana.
Moreover, spirit root awakening opened 'circuits' in the body. Five hundred years ago, spreading mana required gritting teeth and forcibly tearing open paths with mana itself. Now, awakening and circuit opening happened together, making mana distribution effortless.
I suspected from ten-year-old Bruno drawing aura, but it's this convenient?
Comparing the original and revision Gale Winds, Kyle dimly realized.
Convenient doesn't mean superior.
This era's spirit root-awakened, circuit-opened bodies were too accommodating. Compared to five hundred years ago, when the impossible was ripped open through sheer force.
This era doesn't need that. Awakening and circuits open simultaneously.
Each had pros and cons.
The Sword Ghost's era—500 years past—was crude and painful, but swift and potent. Human flesh reached limits beyond mortal tempering by brute-forcing mana into it.
But risky. A shattered core or mana surge could leave you crippled for life—or dead.
This era's training was safer. Not absolutely, of course—half-paralysis lurked from various factors.
Low odds. Circulating through pre-opened circuits was refined, precise.
Yet explosive potential felt lacking. At least from the books. The ceiling seemed low.
Just as innate talents aren't equal at birth, spirit roots aren't equal either. Circuits limit based on the root.
Now he understood the proliferation of revisions from one original. Different circuits meant personal insights piled up, spawning new books.
Back then, brute-forcing paths was standard. This era recoiled from it. Modern humans couldn't imagine a world without spirit roots.
Plus, awakening a spirit root binds you heavily to mana's nature.
Erica awakened ice spirit root and mastered the Frost Flower Sword Technique, exhaling cold. Kyle hadn't seen it, but Julius with his lightning root likely wielded thunder-related arts.
Spirit roots were elemental affinities. Mana sensed via awakening and cultivated per method took on elemental properties.
A wind root wielder infusing mana with fire? Excruciating. Efficiency tanked, aura power plummeted.
From my view, element-infused mana is absurd to begin with. Mana's mana, aura's aura.
Kyle flipped through other Gale Winds, reading intently. No root or circuits yet, but Sword Ghost memories let him grasp these books instantly.
“Hm.”
After poring through all seven, he slotted them back.
Gale Wind Sword Technique. Not bad, but...
Premature to judge from one, yet Kyle concluded firmly.
This era's swordsmanship is convenient and safe, but too tame.
Trapped in spirit root and circuit molds, it stuck to prescribed paths. Wind root? Gale Wind. Ice root? Frost Flower.
Efficient, sure. But obsessing closes off possibilities.
Easy mana access via awakening was poison. Bluntly, five hundred years ago's hard-won blessings felt freer. This era drew limits too young.
Circuits aren't immutable, but... flows starting from the lower dantian make pioneering new ones brutally hard.
Hone existing circuits, fill the lower dantian—only then open new ones. The seven Gale Winds maximized efficiency and power within those circuits, each uniquely.
The Sword Ghost's era was barbaric, ignorant. But free, limitless.
Fail?
Die or become a cripple.
Forty years of nonstop war. No resolve or madness, no surviving battlefields sword-in-hand.
Accept what's worth accepting. This era's swords have their fun too.
Kyle scanned the shelves. Fifteen hundred books. Titles galore piqued his interest.
Five years until this body's root awakening and circuits opened. Gazing at the shelves, Kyle grinned.
The next five years wouldn't be dull. He'd devour every fifth-grade manual. Fuse Sword Ghost experience and merits, evolve them for this era.
Sense mana via root, form cores in dantian and heart simultaneously. Circuits insufficient? Pioneer new ones, assimilate all these arts.
His heart pounded.
Dunno what root I'll awaken. Maybe thunder, influenced by brain crystal and lightning spirit. If so, fuse it my way into sword arts.
His lips twitched.
Plus, spirit arts talent means contracts beyond lightning later. Free from root constraints, master any art. Goblin affinity too. Unrecorded martial arts from Sword Garden weapons?
Yet unrealized. But imaginable potentials.
Kyle's eyes gleamed with greed. Thirst for knowledge. Craving strength. Golden ambition sparkled. He chuckled, pulling a new book.
*
Five years passed, and Kyle Alastor's tenth birthday arrived.