Chapter 7

The Swordsmanship Genius Possessed by a God — Chapter 7

Allen's eyes widened.

The sudden appearance of the window was enough to startle him, but Allen tried not to let his surprise show.

He was standing before the Family Head's Hall.

Although a thick iron door stood before him, his father might somehow be able to see him even from beyond it.

After calming his startled heart, Allen carefully examined the message again.

‘A new fragment?’

The bead he had swallowed, the one the demons had been searching for, was the heart of the unknown entity.

If there was a heart, it wouldn't be strange for other fragments to exist somewhere.

‘Were those bastards looking for more than just the heart?’

And this was apparently the third fragment.

If there was a third, there must naturally be a second, and perhaps even a fourth and fifth.

They hadn't torn the continents apart simply to find a single bead. Those bastards had been trying to gather all the fragments scattered throughout the continents.

If that was the case, then perhaps the reason the demons had targeted Vishken was also—

‘Could it have been because of the bead here?’

—“Don't be so nervous.”

It was then that Lucas's voice reached him.

A voice transmitted directly into his mind.

It was a technique that connected mana into a thread as thin as silk and delivered one's voice directly into another person's mind.

Lucas seemed to have mistaken Allen's excitement for nervousness.

Then again, having returned from a failed first mission only to stand before his father, it wasn't strange for others to assume he was trembling with anxiety.

Thanks to that, Allen quickly composed himself and nodded.

That's right. Whatever the reason, he couldn't afford to appear tense. He hadn't traveled back through all those years just to show such a pathetic side of himself.

Having regained his composure, Allen smiled faintly.

—“You're trembling too, Brother.”

Lucas flinched at the voice Allen sent him.

‘Telepathy?’

Now that Allen possessed mana, using telepathy wasn't impossible. For a swordsman who had reached a certain level, it wasn't a particularly difficult technique.

But Allen had only obtained mana for the first time a few days ago.

And he was already using telepathy? As though it were the most natural thing in the world?

Before Lucas could recover from his surprise, Iorga spoke.

“The family head is waiting. Please enter.”

At Iorga's words, the knights standing on either side opened the doors to the Family Head's Hall.

Rrrrrumble. With a heavy rumbling sound, the doors swung open.

Step.

The two entered under Iorga's guidance.

A ceiling towering well over ten meters high. A long red carpet stretching deep into the hall, and a pure-white throne visible in the distance.

Seated upon it was the person Allen had so desperately wanted to see.

The closer he came, the more clearly he could make out his father's face.

Meeting his father felt different from meeting Lucas again.

The greatest swordsman on the continent.

Axion Vishken.

He sat upon the throne, busily working.

One might imagine that the greatest swordsman on the continent would be sharpening his blade even while seated on his throne.

But instead—

Scratch, scratch.

He was busily moving the tip of his pen.

Heaps of documents. Eyes rapidly scanning the papers. Hands moving without pause.

What the greatest swordsman on the continent held in his hand right now was not a sharp sword, but a pointed pen.

The two stopped at a respectful distance and knelt on one knee in greeting.

“Lucas Vishken, reporting back after completing my mission.”

“Allen Vishken, reporting back after completing my mission.”

Still kneeling, Allen greeted his father silently.

‘I've come back, Father.’

Despite their greetings, Axion's eyes never left the documents.

“You've completed your mission?”

The question was directed at Allen.

“Yes.”

“I heard you escaped on your own. That by the time Lucas arrived, you had already beaten down all the bandits.”

Tap.

Only then did Axion put down his pen and raise his head.

“Allen Vishken.”

Whoooooosh.

Before he knew it, the Family Head's Hall had transformed into a plain swept by winds as sharp as blades.

A desolate plain littered with countless swords.

This was a graveyard of blades.

A field of shattered and broken, blue-gleaming swords, where taking even a single step forward seemed impossible.

The space itself had not actually changed.

Axion's aura had disturbed Allen's mental landscape, stirring the fear buried somewhere deep within him.

“Come closer.”

It was a kind of test.

A challenge asking whether he dared walk this path to reach him.

‘You're exactly as I remember, Father.’

His father was truly a frightening man, far beyond merely being strict.

Rather than welcoming his son with open arms after decades apart, he was making him walk a path of razor-sharp thorns.

Of course, Allen was the only one who knew about those decades of separation.

‘In that case, gladly.’

Step.

Allen walked forward as Axion had commanded.

Even though he knew it couldn't be real, he could feel the blades slicing into his feet and the pain of being stabbed.

A peculiar gleam flashed through Axion's eyes.

Stab, stab. After the pain of several broken blade fragments piercing the soles of his feet continued—

Whoooosh.

The scenery around him suddenly returned to the Family Head's Hall.

Along with the scenery, Allen's steps came to a halt.

Axion had stopped Allen not with words, but by withdrawing his aura.

“...I've come.”

“Well done.”

A faint smile appeared on Axion's lips.

Seeing that smile, Iorga realized that something had transpired between the two.

Their family head had always subjected his sons to tests from time to time. And judging by his reaction, Allen had passed this test splendidly.

“Then let me ask you. Was your mission a success or a failure?”

Allen understood.

The success or failure of his mission would probably be decided by his answer to this question.

Fortunately, he didn't have to think for long. The answer was already clear.

“Neither.”

Neither success nor failure, but somewhere in between.

“Why? Because the family recorded it as a failure? But Lucas's report states that you subdued the bandits yourself.”

“It's a matter separate from the bandits.”

“Then?”

“Because there is still an unresolved problem concerning this mission.”

Allen could tell.

His father already knew what lay behind this mission.

Perhaps he even knew who the mastermind was and what tricks had been used to interfere with it.

And Allen had made the right decision not to run to him and report every little detail.

“Is that so?”

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Axion nodded.

Then he delivered his verdict regarding Allen's mission.

“This mission will be placed on hold. You will receive neither punishment nor reward.”

“Thank you.”

“Still, it seems you've gained something else apart from your mission.”

“That's correct.”

Allen gathered mana at his fingertips.

A faint trace of mana appeared briefly before vanishing.

For the first time, a peculiar gleam appeared in Axion's eyes. Iorga, who witnessed it as well, looked equally astonished.

“How did you overcome the Curse of Mana Deprivation?”

“Perhaps the heavens took pity on me. After all, I failed my mission, and it was obvious I'd be punished when I returned to the family.”

“Enough nonsense.”

Lucas and Axion reacted in much the same way. They really were father and son.

Apparently not particularly interested in the details, Axion did not press him further.

“Is there anything else you wish to say?”

“There is one thing I'd like to ask.”

“What is it?”

“How can I obtain that sword?”

Allen was pointing at one of the two swords behind Axion.

From the moment he entered the Family Head's Hall until now, Allen had been conscious of that sword.

Thump.

His heart was still pounding.

As though it were a magnet, his heart seemed to be pulling the fragment toward itself.

More precisely...

‘It's that bead embedded in the sword's hilt.’

He could sense it instinctively.

The fragment was in the sword on the right.

What the demons had been after was the fragment within that very sword.

“Are you referring to the Galaxy Sword?”

“Is that the Galaxy Sword?”

“This is the sword bestowed upon the young family head of Vishken. It remains in the Family Head's Hall because the position of young family head is still vacant.”

The young family head's sword.

In other words, he couldn't obtain the fragment unless he became the young family head.

‘It's far too important an item to simply ask for.’

He could feel that the system wanted that fragment. His heart seemed to be drawing it toward itself like a magnet.

If what the demons had sought in the human world was the unknown entity, then uncovering its secrets was important to Allen as well.

But he couldn't simply steal a sword that served as the symbol of the young family head.

It was the moment a tremendous challenge appeared before Allen.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“Yes.”

“With the way you've been handling your missions, you haven't a chance.”

“Then I'll have to do better from now on. If I want Father to recognize me as the young family head.”

“This is an official audience. Address me properly.”

“Understood, Family Head.”

Allen rose to his feet and bowed his head.

“Then I'll take my leave first. An uninvited guest should know when to leave. Unlike me, my brother succeeded in his mission, so he'll be receiving his reward.”

“Very well.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

As though suddenly remembering something he had forgotten, Allen asked,

“Have you eaten?”

“...?”

Axion, Lucas, and Iorga all looked puzzled.

They had wondered what he was about to say, only for him to ask whether Axion had eaten?

Unlike the other two, who looked as though they couldn't comprehend such an abrupt and absurd question, Axion raised one corner of his mouth and answered.

“Not yet.”

“You must be hungry. The sun is already high in the sky. Would you care to eat together?”

“No need. Make sure you eat properly yourself.”

“That's a shame. I wanted to share a meal with you again after so long.”

Lucas's eyes trembled at the conversation between the two.

He wanted nothing more than to send Allen a telepathic message and shout at him. What on earth are you doing? How can you be so disrespectful? Aren't you afraid of Father?

Of course, Allen was afraid too.

However.

‘Father, you couldn't possibly imagine how happy I am to see you right now.’

If he could have followed his heart, he would have rushed toward the family head's seat and embraced his father tightly. He wanted to wrap his arms around his father and brother together and fully celebrate their reunion after decades apart.

But he couldn't do that. After all, his circumstances were entirely different from theirs.

A simple question about whether his father had eaten.

That was the greatest expression of happiness Allen could offer at this moment.

His wish to share a meal hadn't been an empty courtesy.

It would probably be so awkward and uncomfortable that he could hardly bear it, but even so, Allen wanted to eat with his father.

Of course, his invitation had been rejected without hesitation.

‘Still, I'll make sure we share a meal next time.’

Allen's eyes sparkled as he left the Family Head's Hall.

‘But first, I need to resolve the problem.’

_________________

Rustle, rustle.

The sound of pages turning.

Bartrolo, a duke of the Owen Kingdom, felt as though his skin was being sliced every time a page turned.

As the head of the royal archives, he had handled countless documents. If all the papers that had passed through his hands were piled up, they could probably form a castle.

Even so, Bartrolo couldn't help tensing up every time the man before him turned a page.

‘This is driving me mad.’

He was so nervous that even swallowing his saliva was difficult.

Bartrolo glanced toward the area behind the man.

The young nobleman standing behind him wore a sword at his waist. His gaze was so menacing that Bartrolo felt he would draw his sword at the slightest wrong word.

It was truly like sitting on a bed of thorns.

Just as he found himself desperately wishing the man would say something—

“There seems to be a problem here.”

The man spoke. He had a face as hard as steel, with a small scar near his eye.

Saul, Lord of the Steel Castle.

He was one of the Seven Castle Lords, who ranked directly beneath the head of the Vishken family.

The Castle Lords governed Vishken's forces scattered throughout the continent and served as symbols of the family's power.

Before such a man, the head of a kingdom's royal archives was no different from a candle flickering in the wind.

“W-which part are you referring to?”

“The part stating that the swordsmen of Steel Castle attacked five border guards of the Owen Kingdom. As I understand it, that was a justified confrontation caused by a misunderstanding.”

“That is...”

Bartrolo barely managed to hold back the curses rising in his throat.

‘You summoned a duke of the kingdom all the way here over a single damned sentence?’

It was truly beyond imagination.

To begin with, the very fact that this man was examining records from the royal archives, which were classified as kingdom secrets, was absurd.

More importantly, a matter of this magnitude could easily have been settled through correspondence. There had been no need for him to waste ten whole days traveling such a long distance.

Nevertheless, Bartrolo did not dare argue.

No, he couldn't even allow his expression to betray his thoughts.

Several years earlier, there had been an incident in which the king of the Mel Kingdom was replaced after a dispute with the Lord of Steel Castle. The swordsmen of Steel Castle had devastated an entire royal family overnight.

Before the man who commanded such people, what could a mere head of a kingdom's royal archives possibly say?

In the end, contrary to his true feelings, Bartrolo politely bowed his head.

“It appears there was a mistake on our side. My apologies.”

“Correct it.”

“O-of course. Naturally.”

Upon hearing Bartrolo's answer, the Lord of Steel Castle handed over the document he had been reading and took a sip of tea.

Only then did Bartrolo feel relieved enough to change the subject.

“Our royal family is making every effort to maintain amicable relations with Steel Castle and, by extension, Vishken. Not only regarding this matter, but also...”

“My lord.”

It was then that a servant's voice came from outside.

“A guest has arrived.”

“A guest?”

He was already receiving a guest.

For a servant to announce another visitor despite that meant the new arrival was either more important than the current guest or had come with a more important matter.

The Lord of Steel Castle raised his hand to stop Bartrolo from speaking and asked,

“Who is it?”

“Well...”

The servant hesitated for a moment.

As though the visitor was someone entirely unexpected, someone who would ordinarily never come here.

“It is Young Master Allen.”