Overwhelming Presence
“What...?”
Barkas's jaw dropped. Self-Lightning Sky Vault. Of course he knew it. His younger brothers, Dante and Serros, were currently cultivating it.
“Th-that's impossible!”
Bruno, his eyes bulging wide, bellowed in outrage. His face flushed beet red as he stomped the floor without a shred of manners, raising his voice even louder.
“Self-Lightning Sky Vault is a 3rd-grade cultivation method! You—you're saying you've mastered the basics?! Don't lie!”
Among Julius's children, even Dante and Serros—who had awakened lightning spirit roots—had only begun Self-Lightning Sky Vault at age 20. At 10, when their spirit roots awakened, they had trained in 4th-grade methods.
Were their talents lacking? No, far from it. None of Julius's children lacked talent. By ordinary standards, they were all geniuses at minimum.
Needless to say, higher-grade cultivation methods were exponentially harder to begin. No matter how brilliant one's comprehension, without a body ready to handle it, even entry was impossible. Upper-grade methods demanded circuit complexity on an entirely different level from lower ones.
By Sword Tower Grand Library classifications, 3rd-grade methods marked the pinnacle for lower dantian cultivation. Bruno, now 15, had trained in a 4th-grade method since age 10, yet his attainment was still only at the 4-star level. His circuits weren't fully developed, and his spirit root barely tapped. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't possibly enter a 3rd-grade method now.
And yet, this kid—who had awakened his spirit root just yesterday—had done it. It defied common sense. It was utterly impossible. Starting a cultivation method the very day one's spirit root awakened? Absurd.
“Why the hell would I lie?”
Crunch. Kyle took another bite of his Thunderclap Mushroom and spoke.
“Especially about something so easy to disprove?”
“Y-you just wanna act special!”
Bruno spat the words, his body trembling. Kyle Alastor. His 5-years-younger cousin grated on him.
Grated? No, he hated the guy. It pissed him off. Five years ago, Bruno had taken a punch from Kyle in the Sword Tower's first-floor hall—and he still couldn't forget it. The family head's chilling gaze back then. His father's stern scolding upon his humiliated return.
But that wasn't the only reason. Ever since the kid arrived, the Sword Tower revolved around him. The intimidating family head, whom even Bruno feared to face, treated him special. And with every birthday the kid passed, Barkas's attitude grew sharper.
Especially yesterday. After the kid's spirit root awakening on his birthday, Barkas had returned with the news of what it was—and his face had been the most terrifying Bruno had ever seen.
“You... you love the attention. That's why you sneak into Sword Apex Hall whenever you can, plop your ass in the middle of Sword Garden to get noticed... Yeah, that's why you're lying now. Am I wrong?”
“What a unique way of thinking.”
Kyle let out a hollow chuckle and shook his head.
“If I really craved attention, why bother with all that hassle? Hell, taking a dump right in the middle of the first floor would draw way more eyes.”
“What...?”
“Has any pureblood ever shat in the heart of Sword Tower's first floor? Nope. Hey, if you want attention too, skip the yapping and drop trou down there. Who knows? Grandpa might pat you on the back and say, 'Now that's a real man.'”
He'd listened quietly, expecting some retort—but it was pure insult, unworthy of response. Bruno's face burned crimson. Rage choked his throat; he could only gape and tremble.
“You... really mastered the basics of Self-Lightning Sky Vault?”
Barkas composed himself and asked. Unlike his son, he didn't think the kid would lie about this—but it was so illogical, he had to confirm.
Kyle popped the last of the Thunderclap Mushroom into his mouth and raised a finger. Mana surged from his lower dantian, cycling through his middle dantian and circuits before gathering at his fingertip. Crackle! Violet lightning danced from the tip, shaking Barkas's eyes.
“This crazy little...”
A curse of shock escaped Barkas. Lightning spirit root awakening allowed mana-to-lightning conversion—but not right away.
Simple reason: the spirit root was too weak, circuits underdeveloped. Lower methods built the foundation for higher ones.
Yet this kid—awakened yesterday—had lightning blooming from his finger. No pureblood entering a 4th-grade method could convert mana like that at the start.
“You really entered Self-Lightning Sky Vault...?”
Bruno couldn't deny it anymore. Kyle dispersed the lightning with a grin.
“You said you came to bond with family, right?”
Of course, it wasn't purely familial. Given the high-handed attitude and knight candidate talk, it was an excuse for a spar.
“I'm thrilled Uncle thinks that way and came. I wanted to get closer to my cousins anyway.”
Kyle glanced at Bruno. The face twisted in rage and shock was shifting. Lips and cheeks twitched; eyes darted wildly. Bruno was reassessing Kyle's level against his original goal.
“So, how do we bond?”
Kyle asked with an innocent smile. Barkas fell silent for a moment.
Mastering Self-Lightning Sky Vault in a day was astonishing. Talent worthy of the family head's favor. No monster like this in Alastor history.
But fortunately, the monster was still unripe. Barkas had a conscience; he admitted his son's talent didn't compare. Yet no matter the gap, time favored Bruno.
Bruno's total mana is far greater, but swordsmanship...
Grind.
Barkas clenched his teeth. The arrogant brat had frequented Sword Apex Hall like his bedroom for five years, learning from the family head. The head called it 'play'—but for a monstrous talent, parrying swings as needed was priceless instruction.
Even Lucia's never beaten him in pure swordplay.
Lucia's sword genius had Gladiheim's attention. A knight candidate just this year, she outshone Bruno after two years. Plus, Kyle had devoured every 5th-grade sword manual in the Grand Library.
Bruno can't win a pure sword duel...
But that was pure swordplay. Manuals aside, Bruno had far more mana-handling experience. Barkas organized his thoughts and clapped Bruno's shoulder.
“How do martial family kids bond? Sparring with swords, obviously.”
He wasn't jealous enough to injure the kid on purpose. But that skyrocketing arrogance needed checking.
Genius bred overconfidence, towering self-esteem. Kyle, undefeated in five years at the tower amid constant praise, brimmed with it. A loss to someone he'd dismissed could scar deeply, beyond a mere defeat.
Barkas hoped for that, gripping his son's shoulder tight.
“My son Bruno trained as a knight candidate for two years. You'll be a pureblood knight someday, Kyle. Learn from him how knights wield swords, how they fight.”
The pretext was petty. No need for Bruno; Lucia or apprentice knight Erica could teach.
“Sounds good to me.”
But Kyle beamed. He'd play along with Barkas's obvious ploy.
They'll keep picking fights anyway.
Kyle was used to establishing pecking order—from his mercenary days. He even enjoyed it.
Another reason:
“Brother-in-law, are you insane? Sparring a kid who just awakened his spirit root with a knight candidate?”
Arian snapped, incredulous, but Kyle calmly tugged her sleeve.
“I'm fine, Mom. I spar all the time, and I wanna bond with my cousin.”
“But Kyle...!”
“Really, it's okay. If it's dangerous, you or Uncle won't just watch, right? And Bruno's older now—he won't snap and unleash aura like before.”
Bruno's face crumpled. Hearing that from a 5-years-younger punk was unbearable.
“You arrogant...”
“If my attitude bugs you, let's bet. Winner calls the loser whatever. You win, I call you 'hyung.'”
Kyle cut him off with a smirk.
“If 'hyung' ain't enough, anything goes. Bruno-nim? Lord Bruno? Your call.”
“You...”
Bruno's brows twitched upward.
“Keep your word. Got it?”
“I've never broken a promise in my life.”
Of course, Kyle couldn't recall if that was true.
In front of Rose Mansion, Kyle and Bruno faced off.
Kyle didn't mind live blades—Arian's insistence made it wooden swords this time.
Come to think of it, I don't have a real sword yet.
Now fully entering martial arts, he could wield one. First swords were custom from Gladiheim's forges, but Kyle felt no urgency.
Fenris existed. His body wasn't grown enough to swing it properly yet, but he'd make it his first sword this life. Even if the mutt didn't recognize its owner, 500-year bond mattered.
That bastard...
Bruno glared, face twisted. Wooden swords gripped, spaced apart. No formal start, but swords were swords.
What the hell's he looking at?
Eyes forward, but not on Bruno. He ground his teeth.
That red hair, golden eyes, pretty-boy face—nothing likable from head to toe.
Calm... calm down.
Bruno's flaw: too emotional. Pointed out since childhood, never fixed. Deep breath; two-handed grip on the wooden sword.
Five years ago, earth spirit root. He cultivated earth mana methods and matching sword arts.
Earth was vast, unyielding. No ocean rage, wind sway, flame fury, lightning speed, ice chill. Always serene, supporting all. Sometimes rising like mountains to crush—unshakable. That's the sword art Bruno mastered.
Dad says pure swordplay's tough for me...
But pride and stubbornness burned. He'd trained ahead of Kyle, endured hell as knight candidate. He refused to lag behind some play-sparrer who got Lucia's handouts.
Yet Barkas terrified him more than the family head sometimes. He'd obey.
No matter Kyle's skill, lacking strength meant piercing Bruno's defense was impossible. Parry light swings, counter. Or just overwhelm with power.
Bruno infused mana into his hands. Whoosh! The wooden sword hummed faintly as earth mana from his spirit root cloaked the blade. His body emanated massive, rock-like pressure—like ancient boulders rooted deep.
“Ready?”
Bruno growled, glaring. With Dad watching and a bet on, no room for five years ago's carelessness.
Only now did Kyle's gaze meet his. Right hand loosely dangling the wooden sword downward.
“Been ready. Shall we start?”
“You cocky shit...!”
Bruno nearly snapped—but held. No excitement. Earth arts demanded calm.
The spar began.
Kyle just stood, sword in hand. Bruno glared. Expected an early rush after all the taunts—no move.
Fine, shift stance. He'd close and crush with overwhelming force.
But his feet wouldn't lift. Linked to earth? No issue; he could bury the foe whole.
The reason?
Primal instinct, pure and simple.
Don't approach.
Don't raise the sword.
Don't attack.
Why? Cold sweat beaded on Bruno's forehead. He'd trained hard; stances revealed targets, gaps.
Kyle was full of openings. Sword barely held, casual stance. Bigger than most 10-year-olds, but puny next to Bruno. Elixirs? Bruno had chugged plenty. With mana, he'd crush Kyle like a leaf.
Should be. But couldn't. Didn't want to. Felt wrong. His seized mind concluded:
Approach, and die.
Drip, drip, drip.
Sweat from his brow hit the ground. Not just face—his whole body soaked. Hands too; grip felt awkward.
Just drop it all, flee.
What the...?
Barkas narrowed his eyes. Pre-spar, Bruno had raised mana for pressure. Bedrock Sword relied on overwhelming weight and power.
Yet Bruno froze. Face pale, legs quaking when they should be firm.
“...”
Barkas clenched his fist, glaring at Kyle. A chill raced down his spine. Just a 10-year-old standing there. Absurdly, he felt intimidated by the kid.
No blade aimed, no killing intent. Yet Kyle's presence loomed gigantic, eerie.
His eyes...
Barkas analyzed. Kyle's eyes—serene beyond his years, playfulness vanished—fixed on Bruno.
Gaze tracing throat, heart, arms, legs. Every stab-able spot. Barkas swallowed unconsciously.
No malice, just a butcher eyeing meat.
This mad...
Casual stance, but with that gaze's will, the wooden sword became a cleaver ready to carve Bruno. Barkas saw it; Bruno sensed it vaguely.
Ignorance might spur a charge—but sword path bred fear.
What kind of monster...
Barkas sent voice via mana.
[What are you doing, Bruno? Don't get scared—charge!]
Kyle's 'blade' was dull. Full commitment from Bruno would end it via power gap.
[Don't get fooled by his gaze! You're stronger now—attack!]
Barkas roared mentally, but to Bruno, his father's voice was muffled fog.
Right now, the Kyle before him terrified far more than the father he'd known 15 years.