3.
“Ha... ha...”
Each breath came with difficulty, radiating a burning heat. His training clothes were long since soaked through with sweat, clinging unpleasantly to his skin.
“Fuh... fuh...”
Exactly one month had passed since Kun entered the hall for seclusion. During that entire time, his days had been filled with a routine devoid of refinement but brutally exhausting.
Wake at dawn, a short warm-up, then swallow the prepared poison pills to increase the volume of Supernatural Power and Divine Madness.
After that came endless sword practice, and at sunset a deep analysis and study of the manuscript of Sword of Ominous Dream.
That was the entirety of his training.
Of course, voluntarily consuming poison already goes beyond the bounds of normality...
The only real difference was that the absence of watchful eyes allowed him to drive himself forward with even greater cruelty.
At least the halls were equipped with everything necessary.
Dried meat, hard biscuits, cheese, smoked provisions, and other supplies. Nearby stood a magical mechanism pumping underground water.
Spare wooden swords, replacement clothes, candles, and flint for working after sunset—the living arrangements were organized flawlessly.
Kun caught his breath and slowly surveyed the room.
Something else is strange. From the inside, the hall feels smaller than the building looked from outside.
He looked around. The space was roughly ten by ten meters, a little under seventy square meters. Not especially spacious, but more than enough for one person. There was room not only to swing a sword but also to practice gymnastics or even make short runs.
And yet the feeling of inconsistency would not leave him.
If there are about a hundred halls like this...
The scale was impressive. But even with that number, the total area of the halls did not match the external dimensions of the building. Kun flexed the fingers gripping the sword hilt slightly.
The question is what the remaining space is used for...
That thought had haunted him since the first day. Kun tilted his head thoughtfully.
Hm.
His gaze settled on the far wall of the hall.
When I tapped on it out of curiosity, the sound was hollow, as if there were empty space behind it.
Such a sound would be impossible if there were no room beyond the wall.
Which means...
Is it a double structure? Another space behind the training hall?
For now it was only speculation. Until he broke the wall open, he would not know the truth. One thing, however, was clear: this building was not merely a prison for those in seclusion.
“...Fuh.”
Driving away the stray thoughts, Kun slowly raised the lowered sword.
The short rest was over. His breathing had stabilized; it was time to continue.
I will train until the sun disappears completely beyond that narrow window.
Of course, having a sparring partner would have been beneficial, but in seclusion that was an impossible luxury. With that thought, Kun was about to move when suddenly—
Grrr...
“...?”
A familiar growl suddenly broke the silence of the hall. At the same time, a shadow flickered across the narrow window slit through which sunlight entered.
Kun started to turn. Sharp ears and three swaying tails—the silhouette was painfully familiar.
“You...”
Grrrr!!
The beast met Kun’s eyes, gave a characteristic rumble, and jumped down into the hall. The growl sounded almost scolding, as though the creature were complaining about how long it had taken to find him.
Kun had been about to ask, “How did you get here?” but instead he gave an involuntary smile.
There was only one reliable way a wild beast could have found him.
Smell. It must have followed my scent.
Even so...
The distance from the forest near the Third Moat to this place was considerable. The fact that the beast had tracked him so precisely using only scent was astonishing.
This is truly no ordinary animal.
Another question immediately followed.
Why?
I fed it meat before, but that hardly seems like a reason to search for me with such persistence.
The beast had circled him strangely even before, showing a certain affection. Perhaps this visit was somehow connected to that attachment?
While Kun stood thinking, lowering his wooden sword, the small creature sniffed around the corners of the room and suddenly blocked his path.
Grrr...
It bared its teeth and began beckoning him with its forepaw.
It looked like...
...A provocation? No, this is...
The realization did not come to Kun immediately. It struck him only after several seconds.
...Are you inviting me to fight?
4.
Spire towers rising into the clouds and visible from dozens of kilometers away. Roads straight as if drawn by a giant sword. Perfectly planned residential districts and bustling commercial quarters.
The Ancient Capital of Andras.
Once the capital of an ancient kingdom, this city was now the primary metropolis of House Zoldic and was rightly considered the heart of the North.
There existed five families whom even the emperor and the imperial consort did not dare disrespect. Considering that each of their domains rivaled entire kingdoms described in history books, Andras effectively functioned as the capital of the sovereign state of Zoldic.
Confirming that status, countless residents moved through the streets, filling the city with energy. Merchant caravans entered and exited the gates aligned with the cardinal directions several times a day.
Despite the approaching evening, the density of the population was astonishing. Hundreds of thousands lived here permanently, and during festivals or large fairs the number of people in the city easily surpassed one million.
At the very center of Andras stood a majestic castle.
Deep within the Castle of the Sword Emperor, an old man resting his chin on his hand broke the silence.
“...I see.”
He sat upon a high throne with one leg crossed over the other, gazing down with quiet majesty. His voice carried such weight that it seemed to fill the entire vast hall, even though his tone remained outwardly indifferent.
Yet Killingham, standing below, noticed the faintest hint of a half-smile.
So he is intrigued after all.
After many years of service, Killingham had learned to recognize the smallest trace of curiosity hidden within that cold tone.
The old man on the throne was none other than the head of House Zoldic and the current Sword Emperor—Ernst Zoldic.
Gray hair and deep wrinkles betrayed his age; he was well past eighty. Yet there was not the slightest hint of frailty in his body. He did not seem like a man but like a naked blade given human form. His bearing, reminiscent of tempered steel, could be felt even through his clothing.
A man permitted to stand before the emperor with a sword at his waist.
A giant of the era, standing at the summit of mastery.
People said that in the south of the continent a rising star named Roverian from Dawnbringer had appeared, but Killingham was certain that he could never compare with this old man.
And the fact that Ernst had shown interest in one of his own descendants was exceedingly rare.
“...Kun. Kun Zoldic, then.”
The reason Ernst, even approaching ninety, still had not stepped away from affairs was simple: among his children and grandchildren there was no one to whom he could entrust the family with peace of mind.
Some might have considered that stubborn madness, but among Grandmasters there were levels even within the same title.
To this titan, even his elder sons—who had nearly reached the same rank—still seemed unreliable.
And now, suddenly, the name of a grandson had surfaced.
Kun Zoldic.
At first, it had merely been an investigation into a forged order bearing the seal of the Council of Elders.
But when that matter caused a grandson whose existence had nearly been forgotten to draw the patriarch’s attention, the rules of the game changed.
Killingham raised his head and asked,
“Do you wish to test him?”
Such familiarity might have seemed presumptuous, but Killingham was the only one permitted it. Once he had called Ernst brother and had walked beside him through the fires of battle.
It was a privilege Ernst had granted in order to keep Killingham Mayer within the family despite his lack of Zoldic blood.
The Sword Emperor gave a slow nod.
“...That would not be a bad idea.”
They said the beauty of a flower or the greatness of a tree could only be known after it endured storms and pests.
To determine whether Kun Zoldic was worthy of becoming a pillar of the family, he needed trials.
“Fortunately, he already has enemies of his own, so we need not invent anything.”
Ernst was clearly referring to the intrigue within the Council of Elders that had led to Kun’s exile to Lion’s Moat.
“For a tree to grow, it needs sunlight and nourishment.”
“Brother, what do you mean?”
“A man must solve his own problems. Stop the investigation into the seal and the forged orders. And one more thing...”
Ernst leaned back against the throne and finished:
“As for the fact that Kun Zoldic is still alive and currently in Lion’s Moat, absolute silence must be maintained. Do you understand what I mean?”
That meant Ernst would become a shield for his grandson until the boy gained strength. He had decided to turn the forged order incident to his advantage.
But behind that shield...
The boy would have to face trial after trial from his grandfather—the Sword Emperor himself.
Realizing the scale of the plan, Killingham lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head.
“I understand.”
This conversation took place in the very heart of the Castle of the Sword Emperor in Andras while Kun remained completely immersed in his seclusion.