The Wolf Within the Sword
Kyle stood there blankly, staring at the wolf.
He racked his brains, dredging up old memories.
Fenris. The trophy from his final battle as the leader of the Crow Mercenary Corps, when he'd wiped out House Robert. The grief-stricken family head had sworn it was dwarf-forged.
He'd never tracked down a dwarf to verify it, but Fenris was sharp and sturdy enough to make the claim believable.
It could slice through a knight's armor without even channeling aura. The same went for clashing against aura-wreathed blades. It even held up against magic—rare back in the day—so there was no doubt: Fenris was a true masterwork.
But that was it. Nothing more. No fancy special powers. Sure, enchanted swords existed even then, though they were exceedingly rare. Fenris wasn't one of those.
Just a razor-sharp, unbreakable blade. That's why he'd wielded it for eighteen long years. Through brutal, relentless daily battles, it never once failed him. Except against Ruin Alastor, it had never known defeat.
'Even in defeat, I avenged it.'
Anyway, that was the sword it had been—no bullshit abilities like conjuring black mist and spitting out wolves.
'Or... did it pick up some new trick over the last five hundred years without me knowing?'
As that thought crossed his mind, he stepped toward Fenris. But the pitch-black wolf growled, blocking his path.
"..."
It was called a wolf, but this thing didn't look like any ordinary beast. Its body wasn't covered in fur so much as jagged blades bristling outward. Its slit eyes burned with savage menace. The maw it bared in a snarl was filled not with fangs, but inverted blades. Even its claws were blades.
In short, what loomed before Kyle was a wolf shaped like a wolf—but made entirely of blades. Neither Kyle nor Raikal five centuries ago had ever encountered a monster like this. He fixed it with a steady glare.
"What the hell are you?"
He spoke the words, but a strange disconnect hit him. He'd sworn he'd voiced them, yet it felt like no sound had escaped. Like talking in a dream.
"What are you doing glued to my sword?"
Shaking off the unease, Kyle demanded again. He had no idea if this mangy mutt understood human speech, but it was pissing him off by barring the way to Fenris.
"Grrrr..."
The mutt growled again, scraping the ground with its blade-claws like something had seriously offended it.
"Beat it, you shitty mutt."
Kyle spat the words and strode forward. The mutt exploded off the ground. It leaped high, jaws gaping wide to tear into him.
Kyle twisted away in a hurry, but the mutt was too fast—faster than he could track and react. No, fast wasn't quite right. This wasn't the motion of a wolf. Impossible as it seemed, Kyle sensed a sword strike in its lunge.
Krunch!
The mutt—the sword—had chomped his torso in one bite. Kyle glared down at it, eyes bulging. For a five-year-old's body, those merciless fangs—blades—buried in his flesh were overkill. No blood flowed, though.
But the agony was excruciating. A normal kid would've screamed and gone into shock. Kyle didn't scream. Five years pampered by Arian hadn't dulled his soul to pain like this.
"No way."
The words slipped from his gaping mouth. Ridiculous as it was, he voiced the suspicion bubbling up.
"You're Fenris, aren't you?"
In that sword-strike motion, he'd sensed none other than his past self. The Sword Ghost Raikal. But Raikal was Kyle, so there was only one possibility.
"Grr...?"
The wolf paused its chewing, lifting its gaze. Every grind of its jaws sent bizarre pain rippling through him—not flesh, but soul. Maybe it wasn't just a feeling.
The wolf's eyes softened as it stared up. It blinked wide, releasing his torso. Apparently, it had tasted his soul and figured him out.
"You are Fenris!"
Still absurd, but hey—reincarnation was even more ridiculous. Kyle grinned wide and shouted.
"You bastard! What the hell happened? Why'd my sword turn into a wolf?"
The wolf slunk back, eyes wary but no longer hostile. Its blade-tail stiffened horizontally, ears pricked straight up as it watched him.
"Hey! Don't you know who I am? I'm—"
Excitement bubbling over, Kyle started to shout—then froze. Introducing himself as Raikal might complicate things. A quick glance around: no Arian, no Julius. Just him, alone in the black mist with the wolf.
'What is this... some kind of magic?'
He tilted his head, looking down at himself. His torso bore horrific gashes from the bite, but no blood or guts spilled.
This body wasn't real, apparently. The dreamlike haze lingered. Mental assault? With a shrug, Kyle plopped down cross-legged.
"Hey, Fenris. Come here."
Dogs were handy beasts—he'd raised plenty in his mercenary days. Key was matching eye level first.
"Looks like you don't recognize me. If you're not sure, come sniff. Bite gently if you want."
He extended an arm invitingly, but the wolf held back. Its expression was unreadable, but the vibe said it all.
It wasn't that the wolf didn't recognize him—it just wasn't convinced. Kyle scowled and shot to his feet.
"Fine, if you won't come to me, I'll come to you."
As he advanced, the wolf's tail bristled, ears flattening back. Lips curled, baring razor fangs.
"Grrrr..."
Hostility anyone could read. Kyle thumped his chest in frustration.
"What the fuck's your problem?"
He reached out anyway. The wolf struck—like a sword slash, batting his hand away viciously. Splat! No—severed. Kyle gaped at his right arm, lopped off clean.
"You fucking dog—"
"Woof!"
Before the curse finished, the wolf barked. The black mist surged, vision warping and collapsing.
"Sh—"
Thud.
His body went limp; Kyle ass-planted right there.
"Kyle!"
Arian's frantic voice pierced the haze in his ears. She rushed over, scooping him into a hug.
In her warm, soft embrace, Kyle checked his right arm first. Intact. His mangled torso? Fine too.
Blinking, he looked ahead. Fenris stood plunged in the Sword Apex Hall floor. Beside it loomed not the black wolf, but Julius.
"What... what just happened to me?"
"You approached Fenris, then stopped dead on your own," Julius replied. His golden eyes flicked to the sword, surprise lingering.
"It trembled like it was resonating with you. Then you just stood there, frozen for minutes. I tried to approach, but Arian blocked me—said not to touch."
"I have no idea what happened."
"Arian will know. She even raised her voice at her old man."
Julius grumbled. Arian cleared her throat awkwardly, hugging Kyle tighter.
"Kyle. Mommy has a guess, but I need to hear exactly what you experienced. Can you tell me?"
"I saw... a wolf."
"A wolf?"
"Yeah. As I got close to the sword—Fenris—my heart started pounding, and black mist swirled up. Then the wolf appeared."
Kyle recounted it all in detail. Julius's eyes widened anew; joy bloomed on Arian's face.
"Oh my god, oh my god...! Kyle, you just communed with a spirit!"
"A spirit?"
"Yes! It's hard to explain how insane this is, but listen. Spirits aren't just bound to elements like wind, water, or fire. They can be born in old objects steeped in attachment, worship, or deep emotions."
Arian crushed his head to her chest, beaming like she might explode from adoration.
"Spirits born in objects are called dokkaebi sometimes. Way harder to commune with than regular ones—fiercely independent, tough to contract..."
Her stroking hand paused.
"Hmm... honestly, I'm not even sure if contracts are possible with them. I've been called a spirit-summoning genius, but I've never communed with one in an object. I didn't see a thing just now."
"..."
Kyle blinked blankly, then eyed Julius.
"Grandpa, when you grabbed Fenris earlier... nothing happened?"
Julius gripped the hilt without a word and yanked it free.
"Nothing."
He stabbed it back down. Kyle stared, then wriggled free of Arian's arms.
"Mom, let me go for a sec."
Once loose, he approached Fenris again.
Tzzzing...
Skin prickling, heart racing like before. But Kyle ignored it, staring straight ahead. No mist, no wolf.
That confirmed it: dwell on the sensation, and communion kicked in. Ignore it, and he could approach normally.
"..."
Standing before Fenris, Kyle paused blankly, then reached for the hilt. Grrr... The wolf's feral growl echoed in his ears. Even without communing, it hated the idea of being held.
"..."
Kyle gawked at the sword in disbelief. This massive black blade was too big for a five-year-old anyway. The blade alone matched his height.
"Mom. It's a wolf. It bit me when I got close. What does that mean?"
"Well..."
Arian hesitated, sparing her son's feelings. Julius chuckled beside Fenris.
"Doesn't want to be held by you."
"Father!"
"No need to sugarcoat it. Truth is truth."
Julius chuckled, ruffling Kyle's hair with his callused swordsman's hand—worlds apart from Arian's. Her anger melted at the sight.
Her stern, unyielding father petting his grandson's head? Shock for Arian—and even Kartan.
But Kyle couldn't enjoy it.
'Doesn't want my hands? You?'
No need to ask Arian, really. But hearing it from a spirit summoner hit hard.
Fenris was the Sword Ghost's blade.
Kyle was the Sword Ghost reincarnated.
Fenris had surely sensed that. Yet it rejected him anyway.
What the hell did that mean?
'Am I not worthy to wield you yet?'
Kyle ground his teeth, glaring at Fenris with blazing eyes.
"..."
Gazing at the sword taller than himself, Kyle conceded—for now.
A five-year-old's body was just too damn small to grip it.