The Storm Sword

The Count approached and laid a hand on Luden's shoulder.

"I heard it from Ben. You've been training hard at swordsmanship lately? Honestly, I could hardly believe it, but seeing you like this, I suppose it was true."

Warm affection shone in the Count's eyes as he spoke.

When the report had first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reached him, there had been a lingering trace of doubt, but facing his son in person, he could no longer deny what was before him. The frail, listless body had grown sturdy in a matter of days, and a steely resolve now lived in Luden's gaze. With a keen eye honed by years of command, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Count read the change at a glance.

"Well, well. You're like a completely different person."

"You flatter me, Father."

Luden answered with practiced modesty. Even if he told the truth—that the Quest System had driven his growth—no one would believe it.

"So, what brings you here...?"

"I came to see you."

The Count wore a satisfied smile. The change in the son who had always been his source of worry pleased him deeply.

At last, the boy was beginning to look like a proper heir to House Kaisar.

"Yes. I hear you've more or less mastered the fundamentals."

"Thanks to Sir Ben's excellent instruction."

"Haha. So you've learned to say such things too. Good. Let's see it, then."

"Pardon?"

While Luden was still puzzling over the cryptic remark, the Count handed him a practice sword with no edge.

"Take it in hand."

Luden accepted it. The moment he gripped the blade, a weight far heavier than a wooden sword settled into his palm.

"From this moment on, I shall teach you our family's swordsmanship."

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mean... the family's swordsmanship?"

"The secret art passed down through the Kaisar line."

What?

Luden froze. It wasn't the sudden appearance of the quest that stunned him—it was the Count's words.

House Kaisar had produced knights for generations, a true martial family, and its hereditary sword art was very real. But in his past life, Luden had never learned it. Disappointed by his son's conduct, Geisel had passed the Storm Sword on to Kevin alone.

And now he's offering to teach it to me?

A strange feeling stirred in his chest. Back then, he hadn't even dreamed of learning it.

"As you know, our Storm Sword is, true to its name, a wild and devastatingly destructive art. Few in the entire kingdom could stand against it."

Pride radiated from Geisel's face as he spoke, and Luden thought it was well earned. The art really was that formidable.

When I finally learned the truth, I regretted never having studied it with every bone in my body.

Of course, even if he had learned it, he'd assumed his lack of talent would have changed little.

"I'll begin with a demonstration. Watch closely and learn."

"Yes, Father."

Drawing his sword, Geisel settled into his stance, then unfolded the forms of the Storm Sword one by one so that Luden could see every movement clearly.

Messages kept flashing before his eyes, but Luden stared at his father as if bewitched. He was so absorbed in the forms Geisel displayed that nothing else registered. His father's sword—something he had never once witnessed in his past life—was breathtakingly beautiful.

That bastard. What's he scheming this time?

Kevin's mood had been foul lately, and the cause was his half-brother—Luden Kaisar.

Pretending to have changed all of a sudden, of all things.

Half-brother or not, Kevin had never once thought of Luden as family. The boy who constantly picked fights over his bastard status, who hadn't hesitated to insult even Kevin's own mother—how could anyone call such a creature his brother?

If asked to name the person he hated most in all of Kaisar territory, Kevin wouldn't hesitate: Luden.

Someone like that, suddenly minding his manners? There was no way he'd truly changed. His father and the soldiers seemed to have swallowed the act whole, but Kevin would never be fooled.

Hmph. Apologizing now, after everything? Don't make me laugh.

He didn't believe for a second that Luden's words at the recent banquet had been sincere. There had to be some scheme behind it, as always.

Knock, knock.

"Father, it's Kevin."

"Come in."

Entering the study, Kevin found the Count at his desk, buried in work, and was greeted warmly.

"Well, this is rare. You, coming to see me at this hour?"

"There is something I'd like to ask of you, Father."

"A request?"

The Count's face lit with interest. It was not often that his precocious second son asked for anything.

Kevin took a breath and spoke.

"Please take me along on the next ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠campaign."

"What did you say?"

"I won't be a hindrance. I am, after all, a proper member of House Kaisar now."

Once autumn set in, the monsters' raids would grow frequent. That was when the Count himself would lead his soldiers out to purge them, and Kevin was asking to join that campaign. At twelve, he had—unlike Luden—trained consistently in swordsmanship and already reached the 3rd Star, strong enough to cross blades with a full knight. In terms of pure skill, he truly would be no burden.

But Kevin was still young.

"Isn't it too soon?"

"That's exactly why this is the perfect chance. Experience doesn't come from sitting around and waiting."

"Hmm. True enough."

The Count studied his son's face with a deliberately troubled expression. He had never seen the boy's eyes so resolute. Yet something about that urgency worried him.

"...Let me think on it."

"Thank you, Father."

The Count had promised only to consider it, but that was enough. Kevin bowed his head.

Three months had slipped by since Luden's regression. When he'd first opened his eyes, the sweltering heat of summer had hung thick in the air; now the leaves were falling and a cool wind swept through—autumn had fully arrived.

It was around then that the Count summoned him.

"There you are."

When Luden reached the study—a place he'd rarely set foot in even in his past life—the Count and Kevin were already seated.

They called him too, huh?

His relationship with Kevin remained as hostile as ever. Luden still tried to strike up a conversation whenever their paths crossed, but Kevin's attitude never thawed.

"Yes. I heard you summoned me."

"Sit down first."

Of course he'd been seated across from Kevin. As he strained to ignore the prickling glare, the Count spoke up first.

"So. How goes your mastery of the Storm Sword?"

"I can just now manage the Second Form."

"In only three months? Remarkable."

The Count's eyes went wide with astonishment, and Kevin's expression twisted further. Luden smiled bitterly to himself. The Count was surprised by the speed, but to Luden it was only the natural result. His experience from his past life, and the Quest System—those two things had accelerated his mastery of the family art.

Still, I really don't seem to have any talent for this.

Luden glanced at the blue window only he could see.

The proficiency, stalled for some time now, was making him anxious.

"No need to rush. You're already fast by any measure—give yourself some room to breathe."

"Father."

Luden blinked in surprise. It was as if the man had read his mind, striking precisely at the worry weighing on him.

Was it written all over my face?

Still, somehow, the restlessness that had gripped him moments before felt a little lighter.

"Now then, I suppose I should tell you why I called you here."

As the Count turned to the matter at hand, both Luden and Kevin leaned in to listen.

"A report just came in from Lukasha Village. A large horde of goblins appeared, and it seems the damage was severe."

Nothing unusual there. Monster appearances were common enough in Kaisar territory—but around this time of year they grew worse, and the territory's soldiers barely had a moment's rest. He doubted there was another lord in the land who took up his sword and roamed the countryside hunting monsters himself.

"They estimate roughly a hundred of them. The garrison stationed at the village managed to hold them off for now, but the situation is dire."

"We should send reinforcements at once."

"Agreed. I intend to go myself."

"You, Father?"

"The numbers trouble me more than I expected."

The Count looked back and forth between his two sons.

"Would you two like to come along? It would be good experience."

"Hm?"

A flicker of déjà vu washed over Luden. It felt as though he'd heard this exact conversation before.

When was it...?

While Luden was lost in thought, Kevin's eyes flashed and he rose to his feet.

"I will go."

The answer came without a moment's hesitation, brimming with confidence, and Kevin's face was flushed with excitement. Like father, like son, indeed. He knew full well that fighting monsters was dangerous, yet here he was, itching to show off his skills.

It had been the same back then. He really was still just a child...

Wait.

A memory brushed suddenly across his mind. Goblins. Lukasha. Kevin.

The scattered pieces clicked together, and a long-forgotten memory stirred to life in Luden's head.

That's right! What an idiot I am. I'd completely forgotten about this.

It had happened in his past life too. To purge the goblins that had overrun Lukasha Village, the Count had personally led a campaign—and just like now, he had offered both Luden and Kevin the chance to join.

The reason Luden hadn't remembered was simple: he hadn't gone. He had refused his father's offer and stayed behind in the castle. And so the incident had never left much of an impression on him, fading eventually into oblivion.

"Luden. And you?"

Having heard Kevin's answer, the Count turned to Luden.

A moment ago, he might have hesitated. The Count called it good experience, but Luden had experience to spare. Better to spend the time on the Storm Sword or his quests than on something unnecessary.

But...

He stole a glance at Kevin. The boy was practically blazing with eagerness.

Now he had a reason to go.

"I'll go as well."

"Good."

The Count beamed at his sons' answers.

"We depart tomorrow at dawn. Everything you need has been prepared—mind your condition and be ready."

"Yes, Father."

"Understood."

At first light, everyone bound for Lukasha Village assembled in one place. Led by the Count himself, the force comprised ten knights and forty regular soldiers of the territory—fifty-three in all, Luden and Kevin included.

It sounded small, but given the current state of Kaisar territory, it was a composition planned down to the last man.

"Can you ride?"

"Of course."

"No problem here either."

Fitted with custom armor and swords, Luden and Kevin mounted their horses. Kevin, raised with all the proper refinements of a noble's son, had riding down to a basic skill—but Luden came as a genuine surprise. No one had ever seen him on horseback before.

In truth, the Luden of this timeline had never learned to ride, which meant this, too, was something carried over from his past life.

"Ho? Your seat's quite steady."

"I practiced a little for today. I couldn't very well show you something unsightly."

"Good answer. Then we ride."

At the Count's command, the punitive force set out. Moving on horseback the whole way, they reached Lukasha Village before the sun had fully set.

The moment the Count and his soldiers arrived and took in the devastation before them, groans escaped their lips.

"Good heavens."

The fields had been torn apart, the crops beyond any hope of harvest, and the villagers' homes lay smashed or burned to the ground. In this state, the people wouldn't last days, let alone the coming winter. Everyone—the Count included—went pale at a scene far grimmer than any of them had imagined.