Several days had passed since I awoke as Ikael.
One question still lingered in my mind.
'Why did Kairon abandon me?'
Why had he abandoned me, a Seven-Star Knight who had served him with blind loyalty?
The thought that there had to be a hidden reason left my mind in turmoil.
But now that I had returned to the past, no one could give me an answer.
Not even Kairon himself.
As I was lost in thought, a physician came in and began examining me.
"Young Master Ikael, are you all right?"
I sat on the bed and blankly nodded, trying my best to look like Ikael.
'Of all people, I became Ikael—the boy with the least information among the seven Recrit brothers.'
Ikael was the bland, inconspicuous, pitiable boy who had lived hidden beside the shadows of windows in his sickly body, then was said to have died of illness one day.
Now I had no choice but to live as that Ikael.
Still, there was one hopeful thing.
'I am at Kairon's side.'
A position from which I could aim for Kairon's neck.
In my previous life, I had spent my whole life climbing to that position. This time, it had been placed in my hands from the beginning.
'Ikael Pui Recrit. In other words, Kairon's youngest son.'
That was my new name.
* * *
Night fell.
I slipped out of bed and walked down the dim corridor.
'I finally feel a little alive.'
Darkness had settled over Bronze Castle, Recrit's stronghold, making it look like the mouth of a Demon King.
Bronze Castle was imposing even by day, but at night it became frightening enough to inspire dread.
But for me, who had spent many long years in Bronze Castle, it was only a familiar sight.
'I am so stiff I could die.'
How had Ikael lived all this time?
People fussed over Ikael as though he were some kind of glass ornament.
'Even so, isn't he a child of Recrit, the renowned swordsman family?'
There were all sorts of distinguished families in the world.
Some had made their names shine briefly before disappearing, while others had once been great but declined until only their names remained.
Among them, Recrit was an ancient swordsman family with a history stretching back two thousand years.
'In a world where the war between demonic beasts and humans never ceases, their line has not died out for two thousand years. That alone proves they are insanely strong.'
The source of Recrit's supremacy was the innate Freezing Aura.
Recrit children were born with a cold Freezing Aura, and only those who could endure it survived.
More than one child had failed to withstand the Freezing Aura in their young bodies, their veins freezing and bursting until they died.
They had to endure a terrifying constitution from birth, so only the strong could survive in Recrit.
Kairon Fel Recrit.
It was no coincidence that a superhuman knight like him had come from Recrit.
During the war against the Demon Realm, Kairon had entered the fray alone and driven a sword into the Demon King's heart.
For that, he received the title of Genesis Sword, a realm beyond that of a Ten-Star Knight, and placed the world beneath his feet.
Recrit's influence had always been formidable, but after Kairon became the family head, no one dared treat them carelessly.
Recrit was capable of claiming even the emperor's throne if it reached out its hand.
Every man admired the name Recrit.
'I did too.'
Now that I knew admiration could sometimes blind a person, a bitter expression settled on my lips.
As I walked, lost in one thought after another, I eventually entered a familiar corridor.
"This is..."
An odd feeling came over me once I realized where I was.
This was in front of Kairon Fel Recrit's office.
I had walked absentmindedly and ended up here without realizing it.
I had worked here continuously in my previous life as a Seven-Star Knight, so my feet had headed this way on their own.
Thump. Thump.
My heart pounded. What did I want to do now?
My mind was asking, but my hand was already reaching for the doorknob.
Did I want to rush Kairon with this sickly body and drive a sword into him?
Reckless.
But once Kairon came to mind, my body would not listen to me at all.
Click—
After a brief hesitation, I threw open the door.
The room was so orderly that it was rigid.
And Kairon, the room's owner, was nowhere to be seen.
'He isn't inside.'
Once I confirmed that the room was empty, my tightly clenched fist loosened.
I did not know whether the tension had drained away or I simply felt deflated. Had I wanted to meet him?
'Let's go back.'
Nothing good would come of being caught sneaking into the room.
Then.
"Ikael."
"!"
Someone was calling from outside the room.
"Ikael, I saw you go in there."
CREAK—
Not knowing whether they were an enemy or an ally, I opened the door warily.
And the person I faced was...
"...Brother Isitor."
A familiar face.
A silver-haired boy like me, with large eyes and upturned lips that somehow gave him the air of a hyena from the wild.
'Isitor Kin Recrit.'
The sixth child of Recrit, which made him my half-brother now.
Of course, in my previous life, we had met not as brothers but as master and knight.
"Why did you go in there? Father isn't there right now."
Isitor spoke, his eyes shining brightly.
"More importantly, are you feeling any better?"
"Yeah... sort of."
I did not know what kind of relationship Ikael and Isitor had, so I could not act rashly.
"Ikael, I heard you woke up, and I was just about to give you a present. Then I saw you coming this way, so I followed you."
'A present?'
Goosebumps suddenly rose along my arms.
The Isitor I knew was never this kind.
"I obtained some precious medicinal herbs, so brew them well and drink them."
Had Isitor been different only with his own siblings?
"...Thanks, Brother."
For the moment, I accepted the gift.
But the instant I opened the box, Isitor let out a sneering laugh.
"Heh."
Of course. That bastard Isitor was exactly as I knew him.
'Is this amusing? He cut off a cat's head and put it in a box.'
"Kahahaha—"
Whatever he found so amusing, he clutched his stomach and rolled with laughter.
"That cat had the nerve to enter Bronze Castle without permission. Just like you, you lowborn wretch."
Lowborn wretch.
It did not even make sense.
Ikael was not the son of a concubine. He was unquestionably the son of a lawful second wife.
And yet Isitor called him a lowborn wretch.
'Ikael, this child's life must have been hard too.'
"Do lowborn things have longer lives after all? You somehow survived even after I threw you into the ice pond. This time, I was hoping you would not wake up."
So you were responsible for Ikael collapsing?
"What was a half-dead wreck like you doing in Father's room? Eat that and take care of your health."
As he said that, Isitor's cruel eyes gleamed, as though he were waiting for me to burst into tears.
But.
"What did you just say?"
"What?"
Ikael's resolute voice pierced the corridor.
At a response so unlike his usual self, Isitor's face slowly twisted.
"Lowborn wretch. Did you just call me a lowborn wretch?"
I had decided to live while pretending to be Ikael as much as possible.
But only on the condition that it worked to my advantage.
Especially if the other person was Isitor, there was no reason for me to make myself lowly before him.
Isitor Kin Recrit.
Devil, wild dog, scum. There were many words that fit him.
But if I had to choose just one...
'The bastard I did not beat enough.'
My teeth ground together.
In my previous life, I met Isitor when I was around twenty.
The first task entrusted to me, having just become a Three-Star Knight, was to attend the sixth young master, Isitor, at close quarters.
Entrusting the young master's protection to a mere Three-Star Knight. It had seemed absurd, but there was a reason for it.
'What are you looking at, desert bastard? Want me to burn you alive?'
Though only fifteen years old, Isitor was an unmanageable son of a bitch.
'Kneel before me and offer the greeting of a subordinate. Before I cut off one of your knees.'
That had been the bastard's first greeting.
The bastard Isitor, already a rake at fifteen, had only grown worse. By the time he became an adult, he had reached a point where no one could lay a hand on him.
He was crazy about women, alcohol, and gambling.
Fortunately, when he was strutting about at the height of his excesses, I was assigned elsewhere. If I had still been attending Isitor until then, I might have lost patience and cut off his head.
There had even been an incident like this once.
After sending one of his own guard knights on an expedition far into the desert, Isitor raped the man's wife.
'Is there any one of you who has not drooled over this bitch? You wanted her too, did you not?'
He even had his gang rape her several more times in order to make them accomplices.
It continued until she could no longer bear the shame and killed herself.
The husband, who learned of what had happened too late, drew his sword and charged at Isitor.
'It ended in a single stroke, though.'
Recrit.
No matter how lazy and incompetent Isitor was, he was still a Recrit.
The bloodline of the famed swordsman family that flowed in his veins was not something a mere knight could dare oppose.
At that time, Isitor achieved the fifth-star realm—a level an ordinary person would have to devote an entire lifetime to attain—while doing nothing but sitting around.
Gradually, no one dared touch Isitor.
Even if he tore down cemeteries to build gambling dens or beheaded people to steep liquor with their heads, no one dared stop him.
'Among his subordinates, I was the only one who sometimes stopped him.'
Each time, he beat me within an inch of my life.
I had always wondered what he had been like as a child for a demon bastard like this to exist.
And now, I was seeing twelve-year-old Isitor's childhood with my own eyes.
"What are you staring at, you sickly bastard? Did you not get enough ice water?"
'So he had been a devil since childhood.'
"I was thinking about something."
"What?"
"If someone had corrected your manners while there was still time, I wondered whether you might have turned out a little better. Even a demon bastard like you."
"What did you say?"
Isitor could not understand what I was saying, but it offended him.
"How dare a lowborn wretch wag his tongue!"
WHOOSH—
Isitor, thoroughly enraged, threw a punch.
But.
SWISH—
'I can see it.'
I turned my body slightly clockwise.
"Wha—!"
CLANG—
Isitor, who had rushed at me, lost his balance and crashed straight into a suit of decorative armor.
One of the lined-up suits of armor fell with a tremendous clatter.
"Y-You bastard!"
'He did not expect sickly Ikael to evade him.'
Besides, in my previous life, I had achieved the rank of Seven-Star Knight.
That was enough to evade young Isitor's attacks.
The Isitor of this time probably barely surpassed One-Star.
"Do you want to die?!"
Isitor jumped back to his feet, stamped a foot, and raised his fist again.
I kept my eyes on Isitor until just before his fist reached me.
THUNK!
Then I knocked a suit of knight armor over toward him.
"Aaargh!"
CRASH—
Isitor, who had charged in blindly, was neatly pinned beneath the armor.
"Why, you little—"
After shoving the armor aside and climbing out, Isitor's hand went to his waist this time.
It looked like he intended to draw his sword.
'The moment he draws a real sword, this becomes serious. No matter that it is a children's fight.'
I did not want a major commotion, so I warned Isitor.
"Do not draw that sword."
"Why? Are you scared?"
Of course, this was Isitor. He never listened when told.
"Ikael, have you ever been cut by a real sword? No. You have probably never even touched one."
SHING—
Isitor drew his sword in a motion brimming with bravado.
But.
TAP—
"?"
The sword Isitor had tried to draw remained in its scabbard.
It had been stopped by a simple movement of my foot.
"I told you not to."
"Y-You bastard!"
Isitor charged at me again, but.
SHING— CLACK.
A crisp sound rang through the corridor as if mocking him.
He could not beat the reflexes of a former Seven-Star Knight.
"Grrr..."
Isitor seethed with frustration.
He had tried to draw a real sword to frighten me, yet he could not even pull it free and was being toyed with instead.
'What is going on with this bastard?!'
Ikael, who had been pale and barely noticeable like a shadow, had suddenly come at him.
He did not know why, but Isitor was furious beyond measure.
"Just die, you insect bastard!"
At last, Isitor raised the entire scabbard and charged at me.
'Now.'
THWACK—
I drove my knee forward.
"Aaargh!"
The force of his own weight added to my driving knee as he charged in.
The blow, aimed precisely at his solar plexus, landed solidly.
"Th-This... lowborn..."
Isitor rolled around on the floor, choking as though he were about to lose his breath.
He could not believe it. He had been beaten by sickly Ikael.
"I will definitely get revenge..."
"Revenge?"
THUD!
I drove my foot into his solar plexus with all my strength.
"I think I should be the one getting revenge on you, Brother."
"!"
THWACK— THUD—
Isitor could not say a word.
Pain he had never felt in his life flashed through his entire body.
"Guh!"
A scream leaked from Isitor's mouth.
But it was far too early for him to be in pain.
Revenge was only beginning now.