The Sword Behind the Throne
'That fucking bastard.'
Kyle spat the curse inwardly. He'd said he'd remember, but no matter how thoroughly he searched the Sword Garden, there was no sign of the sword he'd wielded as the Sword Ghost.
Maybe it was buried among the rusted scraps on Defeat Sword Road... A foreboding premonition washed over him, fueling his rage even more.
"Kyle, what's wrong?"
Gritting his teeth until his body trembled, he caught Arian lowering herself to meet his gaze, her face full of worry.
"Are you hurt somewhere? If that's the case..."
"I-I'm fine."
Kyle shook his head, hiding his boiling frustration. Arian couldn't guess her son's turmoil, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders anyway.
Yeah... whatever... It's been 500 years...
Hadn't Ruin Alastor himself just said it?
[There are still many left to cut down.]
In truth, after ending the imperial throne's power struggle, Ruin Alastor had fought countless more battles. He'd led the charge to crush noble rebellions, reclaimed territories that had brazenly declared independence amid the chaos, wandered the world forcing an end to conflicts across the continent, and even blocked invading heterorace armies.
Over the course of a decade, he'd eradicated war from the continent.
The new emperor of the Empire had hoped Ruin Alastor would use his power for continental unification, but Ruin refused. The Empire was already vast enough, he'd said.
How could the emperor argue when the man who'd slain all the other princes said no to his face? In that era, the imperial citizens revered and yearned for Ruin Alastor over the emperor—imperial authority meant nothing.
Thus, Ruin Alastor was exalted as the Empire's saint, granted the title of Sword Saint alongside a ducal rank.
But Ruin Alastor didn't stop there.
He claimed the barren northern lands of Vigrid as his domain.
To stand guard against the demonic realm across the sea—the demon world of Erebos.
A life spent cutting down humans, heteroraces, demons alike. He might've even crossed blades with someone stronger than me.
As his anger subsided, another emotion wriggled up—jealousy? Betrayal? Disappointment? Kyle swallowed a rising sigh and forced a smile at Arian.
"I'm really okay."
"Hmm... If you say so, that's a relief, but..."
Arian didn't drop her worry right away, gazing intently at Kyle.
"If you're not feeling well, tell me anytime, okay?"
"Yeah."
Arian rose and took Kyle's hand again. Raymon Alastor, who'd been waiting, resumed guiding them.
The Sword Tower they encountered after passing the Sword Garden was far more overwhelming up close than from afar. Pillars carved from black granite stabbed toward the sky like swords, and flags emblazoned with the Alastor crest—a flower of blades—hung everywhere.
"This is as far as I'll escort you."
Raymon halted before the Sword Tower's main gate.
"Thank you for guiding us, Sir Raymon."
"Thanks, Sir Raymon."
Raymon gave a warm smile to the bowing Kyle.
Arian held Kyle's hand and approached the main gate. Rumble... Before she could open it, the double doors parted on their own.
"Arian Alastor has arrived."
Arian stepped forward confidently, leading Kyle by the hand.
Several people awaited in the Sword Tower's first-floor hall. Each exuded an extraordinary presence, and they all turned to stare at mother and son.
Arian's siblings and their children.
Kyle's relatives.
Hmm...
The gazes held a mix of emotions: curiosity, wariness, surprise.
And hostility. A normal five-year-old might shrink or burst into tears under this suffocating atmosphere, but Kyle walked steadily, appraising the feelings in those stares.
True heirs of Alastor, alright.
He met the eyes of uncles and aunts one by one. Who was strongest? He'd need to fight to know for sure. But from the stares and auras alone, he roughly ranked his relatives by eye.
Two are missing.
Not everyone was present.
"Arian."
A red-haired, golden-eyed man spoke. He sighed softly and slowly shook his head.
"I don't even know what to say. You... wild girl."
"It's been six years—how about starting with 'long time no see'?"
"Haa..."
"If you won't, I will. Long time no see, big brother Kartan. Been well?"
The eldest son, Kartan Alastor. He let out a long sigh at his returning little sister.
"As stubborn and shameless as ever. No self-awareness of your wrongs?"
A brown-haired giant scowled as he spat the words. He'd been openly irritated and hostile since they entered the tower.
"You got married too, brother Barkas, so you know. Couples have their ups and downs."
"You shameless..."
"At least I didn't divorce like you. We're just... separated, that's all."
Barkas's forehead vein bulged at the jab. Before he could shout back, a red-haired woman grabbed his shoulder.
"Arian."
Her cool golden eyes fixed on Arian. Bold even before the eldest and second brothers, Arian faltered under that gaze. Kyle felt her hand twitch in his.
"L-long time no see, big sis Katarina."
"You must have your reasons, but I won't ask here. The family head will hear and decide."
The eldest daughter, Katarina Alastor. Her piercing gaze shifted from Arian to Kyle.
"Hello."
Before Arian could introduce him, Kyle spoke first. He met Katarina's icy eyes squarely.
"I'm Kyle Alastor."
"Hm."
His unflinching poise amid the pressure and hostility surprised her. She stared at him silently before asking,
"How old are you?"
"Five."
"Five..."
Katarina's eyes flicked to her own young nephews. All older than Kyle, born and raised in the Sword Tower.
Yet none could meet her gaze directly, even after facing her daily.
"Greetings later. The family head awaits."
Kartan opened the door to the corridor.
The corridor's air was colder, heavier than the hall.
The solemnity imposed by relatives he'd just met felt like walking a blade's edge, but Kyle ignored it, scanning the hallway.
Portraits of past family heads lined the walls. Not all had red hair and golden eyes, but many did.
This fucker's glaring hard.
Barkas's stare from right beside him burned with intense emotion. Laughably, he was jealous of a five-year-old's hair and eye color.
"Can I call you uncle?"
Kyle looked up at Barkas.
"..."
Barkas didn't answer, averting his eyes with obvious irritation.
"I'll introduce the relatives one by one later."
Thinking her ignored son might be upset, Arian whispered softly.
At the corridor's end.
The heart of the Sword Tower. Where the Alastor family's fates were decided—the door to the Sword Apex Hall. Kartan halted.
"Family head. Arian and her son have arrived."
The doors opened in reply. Arian steadied her breath and entered with Kyle.
At the vast room's far end, a man sat on a black iron throne, staring at them.
The moment Kyle saw him, nothing else in the Sword Apex Hall registered. All scenery blurred under the man's presence—immense, intense, absolute.
A name invoked in any debate of the continent's strongest. Ruler of the Empire's north—the Alastor family head.
Julius Alastor.
"..."
Julius stared silently. His quiet exuded a pressure like mountains crushing down.
Arian took another deep breath and released Kyle's hand. Hand on her chest, she spoke.
"I greet the family head. Your unfilial daughter Arian, here after six years to pay respects."
Julius didn't reply. In the silence, his eyes moved. Feral golden eyes fixed on Kyle.
A chill ran through Kyle's body. Pressure far too much for a five-year-old's mind. Julius openly sized him up.
Rrrumble...
It wasn't just eyes. Strands of hostility flowed toward him. Even an extraordinary child would pale, cower, piss themselves, and flee.
But Kyle felt thrilled excitement instead. His lips twitched upward uncontrollably.
He knew at first sight. Julius was strong. The relatives were strong too, but this was another level. Even 500 years ago, such power was rare.
So this is the Alastor family head...
Kyle met Julius's gaze without flinching. His body trembled—not from fear, but exhilaration. He genuinely regretted being only five.
"Good eyes."
Julius spoke.
"Good expression too."
The hostility caressing Kyle vanished, the pressure lifting.
"You're quite bold."
The Sword Apex Hall's air shifted. Julius propped his chin, eyeing Arian.
"Ran off on your whim, came back on your whim. Dragging some blood-clot kid along."
"I missed Father. And to show you your grandchild."
"Who’s your father? I don't recall having a daughter like you."
Harsh words, but his eyes on Arian weren't as cold as before.
"Aslan entered secluded training, I hear."
"Yes."
"If that's all it took to make you run away, why marry him?"
"Because I love him."
"Can't wait out his seclusion if you love him?"
"Sometimes he loves his sword more than me. This seclusion was like that. Woke up to a letter by the bed. Know what it said?"
"No."
"He dreamed of swinging his sword, gained some insight in the dream. So he was secluding himself, it said."
The last time Kyle had asked about his father was three years ago. The unseen man hadn't piqued his curiosity, and he didn't want to prod Arian's wounds then or now.
Today's the first he'd heard his father's name—and the reason for Arian's flight.
What a guy.
Secluding himself on insight from a sword-swinging dream. Kyle felt fondness for his unseen father.
"Reason enough for seclusion."
Julius nodded, and Arian made a face like she'd expected as much.
"Before marriage, you told me: if I have a child, bring them to Alastor."
"If they have talent."
"No issue there."
"He looks it."
Julius's eyes shifted to Kyle.
"Son's name?"
"Kyle Alastor."
"Why Alastor? You married for love and left."
"You wouldn't let me abandon the name."
"Since when do you obey me?"
"I think I do most of the time."
"You follow your whims. Like now."
Julius's eyes narrowed.
"Won't blame you for the five-year delay or giving him our name. Better suited to Alastor than Aslan's line."
"You mean..."
"None of my kids satisfy me as heir yet. Your son counts as direct Alastor."
Arian swallowed a relieved sigh. She'd braced for punishment for her recklessness, but Julius let it slide.
Because of Kyle. Without his potential, Julius would've denied the name.
With the atmosphere softening, Kyle's focus widened. Now he could properly take in the Sword Apex Hall.
His eyes went first to the throne's rear.
A massive portrait hung there. Blood-red hair, radiant golden eyes.
Alastor's founder.
The Sword Saint Ruin Alastor.
Kyle stared at the face that killed him in his past life.
He'd held no grudge before, but now a bit formed.
No Sword Ghost sword in the Sword Garden. Enough for a grudge.