Chapter 19

The Swordsmanship Genius Possessed by a God — Chapter 19

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Lucas visited Steel Castle.

The reason he had traveled all the way to Steel Castle, three days away from the main castle, was to meet the Lord of Steel Castle.

Inside the reception room.

Unlike when he had received Allen, the Lord of Steel Castle welcomed Lucas with a face full of delight.

“What brings you all this way?”

“I came to have a cup of tea with you, my lord.”

“You must have had a tiring journey. Come, sit down.”

The Lord of Steel Castle instructed a maid to bring out some precious tea.

A fragrant tea with a reddish-orange hue.

Lucas smiled faintly as he raised his teacup.

“Thank you for the tea.”

Watching Lucas quietly drink his tea across from him, the Lord of Steel Castle's eyes gleamed.

Unless there was an exceptional reason, Lucas never set foot in the territory of one of the Seven Castle Lords of his own accord.

There was only one reason he would come to see him first.

“Have you come as the commander of the Flying Sword Division?”

The Flying Sword Division was one of the sword divisions directly under the family head, tasked exclusively with carrying out missions assigned by him.

And Lucas was the commander of that division.

“That's correct.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“I understand that the family head has also ordered you to secure the Demon Sword. And that you've recently been clashing with the Empire because of it.”

“The family head told you even that?”

“Yes. I heard it's been going on for quite some time.”

Vishken had already been tracking the Demon Sword for several decades.

And Vishken wasn't the only one pursuing it.

“The family head repeatedly emphasized that we must not allow the Empire to take possession of the Demon Sword, no matter what happens.”

Vishken and the Empire.

The two greatest powers representing swordsmanship on the continent were competing over the Demon Sword.

“It seems the family head is particularly concerned about the Demon Sword.”

“It's something the previous family head had already been searching for.”

“The existence of a Demon Sword said to rival the Five Great Swords of the Continent. Do you really believe such a thing exists?”

“Who knows? I was simply instructed to deliver the message.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that? In person?”

The Lord of Steel Castle snorted and asked,

“Is that truly why you came?”

The Demon Sword that the two greatest powers on the continent had failed to find for decades.

Because of that, some had even begun to claim that the Demon Sword itself was nothing more than a myth.

“The commander of the Flying Sword Division personally traveled here because of a Demon Sword that may not even exist? For something that could have been handled by sending a single subordinate?”

“As it happens, I had another matter to attend to today.”

“What might that be?”

Lucas set down his teacup and spoke.

“You interfered with my younger brother's mission.”

As though this were his true purpose, Lucas looked directly into the Lord of Steel Castle's eyes, unlike before.

There was a subtle challenge in his gaze.

Meeting that gaze, the Lord of Steel Castle smiled faintly and raised his teacup.

“I thought that might be the reason.”

“Are you admitting it so readily?”

“Hasn't the evidence already come to light?”

“Yes. Your disciple may find it difficult to escape the consequences.”

“Are you threatening me with that worthless brat? I was planning to use him and discard him anyway. Do as you please.”

Even when Lucas threatened his disciple, the Lord of Steel Castle remained completely unmoved.

Lucas had known that the man felt little affection for his disciples, but he hadn't expected it to be this extreme.

When threatening him through his disciple proved useless, Lucas sighed deeply and asked,

“Was it because of me?”

“It was.”

The Lord of Steel Castle nodded.

“I want the Vishken bloodline to continue. But I don't want those fools from the collateral branches to become the family head. You know, don't you? The Lord of Blood Sword Castle recently took someone from a collateral branch as his disciple.”

Lucas had heard that news as well.

And it wasn't exactly recent. It had been more than two years since the Lord of Blood Sword Castle had taken a member of Vishken's collateral bloodline as his disciple.

The first young master had no interest in becoming the family head, while the second young master was floundering under the Curse of Mana Deprivation.

The Lord of Blood Sword Castle intended to exploit that opening to make his own disciple the family head.

“You resemble the family head more than anyone else. I thought this might finally bring you to your senses. Isn't the reason you have no desire for the position of young family head that you're worried your younger brother will be devastated?”

“Did you truly believe that? So you used my younger brother as a hostage to teach me a lesson?”

“What if I did?”

“Hah.”

Lucas chuckled quietly before bursting into loud laughter.

“Hahahaha!”

His laughter echoed through the reception room for quite some time.

Despite the discourtesy, the Lord of Steel Castle did not reprimand him.

Then, abruptly falling silent, Lucas spoke with a cold expression.

“You have completely misjudged me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I really seem to care that much about my younger brother?”

“Do you not?”

Lucas shook his head.

“I was merely a little concerned because a fool who happened to share my blood was living such a pathetic life.”

“Is that so? It seems I've misunderstood. Then why are you so reluctant to pursue the position of young family head?”

“Must I explain even that to you?”

His tone seemed to say, Why should I have to tell the likes of you such a thing?

A cold atmosphere settled between the two. Steel Castle seemed to grow as chilly as ice in an instant.

Then, seeing Lucas's cold reaction, the Lord of Steel Castle smiled with satisfaction.

“...Well, I suppose you're right.”

The Lord of Steel Castle finished his black tea and spoke.

“Don't worry too much. The family head has already shown how much attention he pays to the second young master. What could I possibly do now? Even I don't have the nerve to interfere with the family head's bloodline a second time.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Having heard the answer he wanted, Lucas immediately rose from his seat.

Just as he was about to leave the reception room—

“Oh, come to think of it...”

Lucas stopped for a moment, as though remembering something he had forgotten to say.

“You said I was the one who most resembled the family head, didn't you?”

“I did.”

“You're wrong.”

“Is that so? Then who is it?”

Rather than answering the Lord of Steel Castle's question, Lucas turned away.

“You'll find out soon enough.”

As he prepared to leave without another word, the Lord of Steel Castle asked one final question.

“Since you've come all this way, why not stay for a drink?”

“...I make it a rule not to drink with people I can't trust.”

“Is that so? Very well. Farewell.”

With that final exchange, Lucas left the reception room. His business was finished, so he would probably return directly to the main castle.

Left alone in the reception room, the Lord of Steel Castle sat down and reflected on Lucas's words.

The person who most resembled the family head.

At that moment, the person who came to the Lord of Steel Castle's mind was none other than Allen.

‘The second young master resembles the family head?’

Two figures appeared side by side in his thoughts.

Axion Vishken, the sky of Vishken and the strongest swordsman on the continent.

And his son, Allen Vishken, the unfortunate young man born with the Curse of Mana Deprivation.

He had always thought the two resembled each other in nothing but their faces.

But then—

“Do you still think my brother is more suited to becoming the family head than I am?”

“Heh.”

The moment he remembered those bold eyes, the Lord of Steel Castle couldn't help laughing.

Because he realized that Allen truly did resemble Axion Vishken in his youth, a very long time ago.

* * *

Allen placed the Flower of Stars inside his spatial storage pouch for the time being.

He desperately wanted to consume the flower right away, but he intended to wait until he returned to the family estate.

The more potent an elixir was, the more concentration was required to absorb its effects efficiently. Even the slightest lapse in concentration could reduce its effectiveness by more than half.

He needed trustworthy people and a safe location. And there was no place more suitable for that than Vishken.

The following day.

After resting for a day in a nearby territory, Allen immediately went looking for a coachman.

However—

“Huh? Sir?”

“C-customer!”

By sheer coincidence, the coachman he found was the same man who had brought him here.

The coachman asked with obvious delight,

“What brings you here?”

“I'm on my way back now.”

“Have you already finished with the dun— I mean, your business?”

The coachman quickly changed his words, worried someone might overhear.

After all, there was no telling what kind of troublesome people might come sniffing around if they heard Allen had visited the dungeon.

Allen nodded and answered enthusiastically.

“Yes. Everything went well.”

“Congratulations. I'm truly glad to hear that.”

“Why haven't you left yet, sir?”

“Thanks to you, my debt has been settled, hasn't it? I was in such a good mood that I stayed to enjoy another drink by myself.”

With the Iron Shackles Society eliminated, the coachman had finally been freed from the debts that had tormented him for so long.

“There's no need to pay the fare. Your ride is free!”

Although Allen's pouch was now much heavier than before, hearing the word 'free' still made him happy.

For someone conducting business, the word 'free' was the highest form of praise.

“I should still pay the fare. Besides, they say people who like free things go bald.”

“You'd still be handsome even if you went bald. Oh, right. Where would you like to go on your return journey? I'll take you there at full speed.”

“Let's go to Vishken.”

The coachman flinched slightly at Allen's words.

But he wasn't as surprised as one might have expected.

Apparently, he had already suspected as much.

“As I thought... You were a swordsman of Vishken.”

“Did you know?”

“I figured you were either a swordsman of Vishken or a knight of the Empire. Since the place where I first met you was Vishken territory, I thought you were probably a Vishken swordsman.”

The coachman's words were only half sincere.

Judging by the location, he had assumed Allen was a swordsman of Vishken, but Allen's personality had also made him wonder whether he might be an imperial knight.

He had been secretly curious and uncertain, but their unexpected reunion had finally allowed him to learn the truth.

“Please call me 'customer' like you did before, rather than 'Sir Swordsman.' It feels friendlier, and I prefer hearing it.”

“How could I possibly do that?”

“It's fine. More importantly, it makes me uncomfortable when you don't.”

“If you insist... Very well.”

Allen smiled faintly and climbed into the carriage.

Sitting inside and looking up at the blue sky, he said,

“Let's head to the main castle.”

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The carriage traveled faster than before.

Along the way, Allen once again treated the coachman to food and liquor.

As Allen told him about what had happened in the dungeon, the coachman's face grew flushed, and he listened intently with his ears pricked up.

He was especially startled to hear that one of Allen's companions had actually been a swordsman impersonating someone from Vishken.

“To think there's such a shameless bastard in the world!”

“Haven't you encountered even worse people?”

“Well, even so, I've never met anyone crazy enough to impersonate a swordsman of Vishken.”

The two shared drinks several more times.

During the day, Allen cultivated his mana, and at night, he drank with the coachman. To Allen, this was a kind of journey and a chance to rest.

Before long, the carriage reached Vishken territory.

The main castle began to appear in the distance. The carriage dropped Allen off in the territory before the castle.

“We've arrived.”

They stood in the middle of a bustling town, with people coming and going.

The coachman looked into Allen's eyes and cautiously asked,

“May I... ask your name?”

He had seemed to want to ask something for several days, and apparently this was what had been on his mind.

“I make a point of remembering the names of customers who leave an impression on me. And you're the most special customer I've ever had, so I'd really like to know.”

“There's nothing rude about asking.”

Allen clasped his hands together in greeting and answered politely.

“I'm Allen Vishken.”

“Vish...”

The coachman's eyes widened as though they might pop out.

This surprise was entirely different from anything he had felt before.

He hadn't been this shocked when he saw the Iron Shackles Society annihilated, or even when he learned that Allen was a swordsman of Vishken.

Allen Vishken.

Someone who bore the Vishken family name.

And there was no way anyone would dare impersonate a member of that bloodline right in front of Vishken's main castle.

“Hic!”

The coachman could do nothing but hiccup.

He had never imagined that someone bearing the Vishken name would ever ride in his carriage.

As though anticipating the coachman's reaction, Allen once again spoke playfully.

“If you ever have another talkative customer like me, tell them about it. Tell them, 'This carriage once carried someone like that too!'”

“H-how could someone as lowly as me dare...?”

“Please don't call yourself lowly. I was simply born into a good family. It's not as though I'm anyone particularly extraordinary.”

Allen meant those words sincerely.

Although he had been born into the noble position of a direct descendant of Vishken, he had actually spent most of his life away from the family.

During the latter part of his life, while fighting demons and demonic humans, he had also learned just how precious every single human life was.

Perhaps that was why.

Unlike other people, Allen did not place much importance on distinctions of social status.

Whether someone was strong or weak, highborn or lowborn, everyone was equally human to Allen.

Allen distinguished people according to only two things.

Human or demonic human.

Good person or evil person.

Those were the standards of judgment Allen had established during his previous life.

“Just think of me as the same person who drank with you on the first night and talked your ear off. I'm the same person now as I was then.”

At Allen's words, the coachman's expression gradually relaxed.

Although he now knew the Vishken name, Allen was still behaving exactly like the customer he had come to know.

“My apologies. I was simply so surprised that I lost my composure.”

“Judging by your reaction, it's probably a good thing I didn't tell you sooner.”

“Ah, I probably would have been too frightened to drive the carriage properly.”

Seeing Allen continue to address him respectfully as 'sir,' the coachman bowed his head in gratitude.

“Thank you for telling me your name. It was an honor to have you as my passenger.”

“And I'm grateful that you brought me here safely. Have a safe journey back.”

Allen bowed his head in return, just as the coachman had, before turning away.

The coachman stood there for a long while, watching Allen's retreating figure.

Perhaps he had carried in his carriage the man who would one day become the head of the Vishken family.