Fetching the Sword Maniac Father
Kyle laid everything bare to Julius without holding back—every detail of what had happened in the Great Library. Julius stared at him throughout the tale with wide-eyed astonishment, and at the end, he let out a long sigh.
“Hoo.”
It was a breath laced with both admiration and lament. Julius didn't speak right away, instead fixing Kyle with a piercing gaze for a moment.
“So that's what you've been up to for the past year, holed up in the Great Library and rarely visiting the Sword Apex Hall. You were attempting the absurd feat of creating your own personal cultivation method?”
Julius had heard reports of what books Kyle was reading in the Great Library. He'd been puzzled, focusing more on third-rate cultivation manuals than sword techniques. But to think he was trying to forge his own cultivation method...
“It's not that impressive. I just figured I could pull it off...”
“Creating your own cultivation method isn't impressive? Even drawing from others as references, synthesizing them into one cohesive whole—that demands the makings of a grandmaster.”
Julius shook his head with a hollow chuckle.
“I thought I'd grown numb to your astonishing talents by now, but you still manage to surprise me, you monstrous treasure.”
“Ahem.”
“It's reckless and dangerous, but I won't stop you. Your spirit root is unprecedented in this world, so your judgment is likely sounder than mine. Even the... goblin of the Sword Tower has chosen to lend you its strength.”
What shocked Julius as much as Kyle's talents was the existence of the Sword Tower's goblin—the Fragment.
“Normally... at your age, entering the Layers of the Capital would be unthinkable. The bare minimum to access them is completing the Form Realm and grasping the first threads of the Intent Realm.”
In this era, the stages of martial cultivation were divided into four realms.
One awakened their spirit root and cultivated a method to activate the circuits within their body, circulating mana to forge a small inner world: the Beginning Realm. At this stage, one could form imperfect aura.
Next came the Form Realm, where mana, now skillfully controlled and shaped according to the spirit root's nature, was released as sword aura. The pureblood Alastors typically entered the Form Realm around age thirteen on average.
The Intent Realm began after perfecting the Form Realm and striking at the middle dantian. Beyond mere mana activation influenced by the spirit root, one's own intent was infused. It was the path from sword aura to sword gang, but true entry into the Intent Realm required fully opening the middle dantian.
Finally, the Extreme Realm: perfecting the lower and middle dantian, then opening the upper dantian. Countless cultivators perfected the Intent Realm yet never reached the Extreme Realm—this was where one truly shed human limits and entered the transcendent realm of supermen.
“You're already ahead with your middle dantian open, but to say you've truly mastered the Intent Realm...”
Without a word, Kyle drew his wooden sword. He'd planned to show it off later when he was even more confident, just to make Julius freak out. But with things unfolding like this, he couldn't put it off.
Whoosh!
The Mixed Origin Sword Scripture circulating through Kyle's body enveloped the wooden sword in mana. Julius's eyes widened slightly as he beheld the purple aura cloaking it.
There was no unstable flickering. It resembled flames, yet lacked mere fiery heat. A vast array of attributes mingled within that glow, none dominating, all in eerie balance.
It was like a harmonious world unto itself, yet every blazing hue was as sharp as a blade. Far from serene, it was chaotic and destructive. And yet... utterly stable. That meant Kyle perfectly controlled his mana.
Sword aura. The hallmark of true entry into the Form Realm. Not surprising for someone with an open middle dantian. But the refinement Kyle displayed far exceeded Julius's expectations.
'High refinement?'
Julius shook his head at his own impression. High refinement didn't cover it—Kyle's sword aura was impeccably perfected. So judged Thunder Emperor Julius Alastor, one of the Ten Strongest.
“I wanted to show you later.”
Kyle grumbled as he dispersed the aura. Instantly, his skin tingled and his heart raced oddly.
Fenris, embedded in the center of the Sword Apex Hall, was trying to connect with him on its own. But Kyle rejected the communion. That insolent mutt who bit its master needed some neglectful discipline.
“Why hold off?”
“It's not quite satisfactory yet. I know I can do even better.”
There was no bravado in his words. His sword aura from his past life had been similarly refined in pure quality, but in this life, Kyle aimed to surpass it entirely.
“Once the method's complete and I can circulate mana at will, I should be able to form sword gang too. We'll see when I try.”
He added the caveat so Julius wouldn't keel over in shock. Kyle brimmed with confidence in forming sword gang. His middle dantian core just wasn't fully functional yet. Once his lower dantian was filled enough to stave off the hunger twisting his body, he could manage sword gang even with an incomplete method.
“Haha...”
Julius now found his grandson more chilling than endearing. A year ago, on his birthday, the boy had declared he'd surpass him—it no longer felt merely precocious or admirable. In just one short year, his grandson's sword was closing in on Julius at terrifying speed.
Thus, Julius felt a swirl of emotions: affection for his unbelievably swift-growing heir, and a chill at the rival who would one day challenge him. With a chuckle, he rose from the jade throne.
“Let's go.”
“Where to?”
“Didn't you say? We're going to fetch that bastard Aslan Antares.”
Julius strode forward and placed a hand on Kyle's head, ruffling his hair.
“It was a marriage I tacitly approved, and I figured I'd respect Arian's pride by leaving it be. But hearing that you—a boy obsessed with training and the sword—are hesitating out of worry for your mother? I can't ignore that any longer.”
As a swordsman himself, Julius admired exceptional swordsmen. Especially stubborn ones devoted to the blade—how could he not?
But Aslan was no longer just a swordsman. He was a swordsman, Julius's son-in-law, Arian's husband, and Kyle's father. Julius had never considered himself a stellar father, but even he couldn't overlook a man who'd abandoned his family for twelve years.
Especially not when it hindered his grandson.
Julius smiled at Kyle, but his eyes were icy cold.
*
Fifteen years ago, after his wife fell into an endless slumber from an accident during her rites, Julius wandered the world personally for two years, seeking a cure.
He'd have kept roaming until he found one, but as Alastor patriarch, he couldn't leave Gladiheim's throne vacant forever. So after two years, he returned to the Sword Tower.
For the next thirteen years, Julius had secluded himself there. Now, as he emerged, his descendants poured out to greet him.
“P-Patriarch, where are you headed?”
Eldest son Kartan Alastor rushed up in alarm, then froze upon seeing Kyle at Julius's side. The others reacted similarly, but Arian let out a startled cry and hurried to her son and father.
“K-Kyle? Father? What... why? Where are you going?”
“Grandpa's buying me a present.”
Kyle spoke before Julius could, and Julius nodded along, backing the white lie.
“A present...? Is there anything not available in the Sword Tower or Gladiheim? Even if it's rare, does the patriarch need to—”
“I want to pick it out myself.”
Julius cut Kartan off in a low voice.
“He's an exceptional grandson, isn't he? Besides, it's been ages since I've breathed fresh air.”
How could they stop the patriarch after thirteen years of seclusion when he put it that way? Kartan could only gape and step back.
“At least take an escort.”
Third son Jerard Alastor, who handled Gladiheim's administration, bowed his head. But Julius shook his head impassively.
“Escorts are a hassle. I don't need them—stand down.”
“But...”
“Who could even guard me?”
As Julius's tone chilled, Jerard bowed and retreated without further protest. Arian, watching blankly, sidled up to Julius.
“Why leave me behind?”
“We're not fetching your present.”
“But Kyle's my son...?”
“Just your son? He's my grandson too. If I say I'm picking his gift myself, are you going to keep being dense?”
Arian blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. Giggling, she poked Julius's arm with her elbow.
“I never imagined you'd turn into such a doting grandpa. If you'd been like this when we were kids, we'd have loved it.”
“Enough nonsense. Stand down.”
Julius replied in a voice devoid of humor and strode off. Kyle bowed politely to the gathered relatives, gave Arian a special wave, and followed.
“Kyle! Ask Grandpa to buy you tons of presents!”
Arian's voice called from behind.
“Grandpa's good at lying, huh.”
“I've never lied.”
As they passed the Sword Garden, Julius replied to Kyle's snicker with a straight face.
“We're going to get the present you want—that's the truth. If it's a lie at all, it's that it won't cost a coin.”
“And the fresh air?”
“It does feel nice out here after so long. Definitely different from the wind inside the Sword Tower.”
Julius glanced at Kyle as he spoke.
“Want to see me squirm admitting a lie, you cheeky brat?”
“Nah, just saying.”
“Even if I lied, it's not my failing. It's all because of you.”
“Seems like you've changed a bit—no, a lot—because of me. Don't like it?”
“Another cheeky question.”
Julius grumbled softly but didn't answer directly.
“Lennon.”
Instead, he called another name. A quiet voice responded from the seemingly empty surroundings.
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“Prepare a sky carriage. The fastest one.”
“Understood.”
One of the Shadow Knights shadowing Julius, no doubt. Kyle was purely impressed—their stealth was beyond his current detection.
“Do Shadow Knights have to learn stealth too?”
“Not necessarily. They're Gladiheim's elite, so swordsmanship is key. Lennon just happens to excel at it, coming from the Shadow Unit.”
The Shadow Unit was Gladiheim's intelligence force.
“Ever ridden a sky carriage?”
“Nope. Mom flew me here. But I know what it is—pulled by flying horses.”
“Not lacking in common knowledge, then. I was worried after six years cooped up in the Sword Tower.”
“Don't just worry about me—check on your other sons, daughters-in-law, and grandkids too.”
“I'd have if they showed promise worth my concern. Even without it, if they'd been affectionate, I'd have grown fond anyway.”
“You're too cold and intimidating—how could they get close?”
“You managed.”
“I've got high affinity.”
“What to do with this brazen, adorable rascal.”
Julius clucked his tongue with a mutter.
“I can't be chummy with all the descendants. It's too late for that now anyway. If I suddenly gathered the kids and grandkids for a casual meal, Kartan would think I've gone mad and secretly call a doctor.”
“Nah, no way.”
“I know Kartan and the others better than you. Decades in that dynamic—it's inevitable.”
“But you patched things up with Aunt Erica.”
“She was young, had no ambition for the patriarchy, and approached me first.”
Kyle got the point. Skipping over Roel and Serros above Erica, the other uncles and aunts were long past youthful—holding major positions and building their own factions in Gladiheim. Julius suddenly getting close would shake the power balance.
'Even Mom gave up succession rights.'
Julius smirked down at Kyle's thoughtful face.
“What's your motive for fixing this stiff family dynamic?”
“Wouldn't it be nice if we all got along?”
He'd never had a proper blood family in his past life, after all.
“If you want that, go grease the wheels yourself. Like you did with Erica and me. Like with Barkas and Bruno.”
“No plans to do it yourself?”
“I've given you plenty of gifts and favors. You're not a kid anymore—time you brought me a present.”
“You said my existence was the gift.”
“The more gifts, the better, you adorable pest.”
Julius chuckled and ruffled Kyle's hair again.
The pair passed the Sword Garden and descended to Gladiheim's upper district, Blade.
A grand sky carriage awaited, its exterior imposing. Knights and branch family members stationed in Blade stood rigidly behind it, come to see off the patriarch after thirteen years.
“Making such a fuss just because I'm out.”
Julius clucked his tongue but raised a hand in acknowledgment. Kyle, at his side, felt countless gazes. Six years in the Sword Tower—this was his first time down here.
Residing in Gladiheim's upper layers meant second only to pureblood nobility. They were finally laying eyes on the rumored child genius of the Sword Tower.
“I'll escort you personally.”
A man in black uniform bowed at the carriage entrance. The voice from before—Shadow Knight Lennon of the Shadow Unit.
“To the nearest warp gate, I presume?”
As they entered with Julius, Lennon's voice followed promptly.
“Yes.”
Julius replied, gazing out the window. Every knight and noble bowed slightly, seeing them off.
“Know where Aslan lives?”
“Yeah. Heard it's in the Kingdom of Vallian.”
“Where exactly in Vallian?”
“No clue. Was gonna ask you, Grandpa. Didn't expect you'd come along.”
“Good initiative.”
Julius chuckled wryly, propping his chin.
The sky carriage took flight.
*
The sky carriage was swift, but inside, vibrations were minimal.
En route to the warp gate, Kyle kept the conversation flowing with Julius. Had Julius seemed annoyed, he'd have stopped—but he didn't.
“Aslan is strong.”
The topic naturally turned to Aslan Antares, Kyle's father.
“He first came to Gladiheim thirteen years ago. Twenty-five then... already on the cusp of perfecting the Intent Realm.”
Aslan had barged in, pounding the gates and bellowing for a duel with the Alastor patriarch.
“I was on edge back then. Two years wandering, no answers for my wife—then some challenger shows up. How could he look anything but obnoxious? Made me think the Alastor name was a joke. I nearly slew him on the spot.”
“Close call for my birth, huh?”
“Lucky I spared him.”
Julius smiled faintly.
“Thought about killing him, but his sword was too promising to break. So I held back. He got mad instead—raged that I didn't even deem him worth killing.”
“...”
Kyle's opinion of Aslan ticked up slightly from rock bottom.
“He was so noisy I knocked him out and tossed him out. But he wouldn't leave—squatted in the Sword Tower garden, honing his blade for a rematch. His spirit appealed, so I gave him a house in the upper district.”
“Did you fight him after that?”
“Twice more that first year. Each bout sharpened his sword further. I anticipated a third... but he showed up with Arian, demanding marriage.”
“...”
“I was floored and furious—nearly beheaded him—but Arian threw a fit, so I approved. They left the Sword Tower... and you were born.”
Julius's expression grew complicated.
“Seeing you now, I regret letting your parents go. Should've kept them in the tower.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly. Being born and raised in the tower would've meant exposing his infant indignities to all the relatives.
'Dodged a bullet.'
He meant it sincerely.