The old stone church was wrapped in a cold air that still carried traces of winter.
Far from the royal capital, in a remote baronial territory—the Cream family’s domain—stood a modest village that could hardly even be called a proper town. At its center was a church in name only. The light filtering through the faded stained glass was dim, and even the white robes of the priest standing before the altar looked somewhat worn. Ren, the third son of the Cream barony, quietly watched the scene.
This was the day a child, upon turning seven, would undergo the “Rite of Blessing.”
For nobles in this country, it was a day that would determine their fate.
“Yuan, sixth child of the Cream family.”
The priest’s voice echoed against the cracked ceiling.
Their father—Kaiser Cream, head of the family and whispered about behind his back as a poor baron—stood with his arms crossed, his expression stiff. Their mother clasped her hands as if in prayer, while the older siblings watched the altar, each harboring their own thoughts.
The eldest son, Ryan, had archery.
The eldest daughter, Liese, had wind magic.
The second son, Lewis, had shield techniques.
The fourth son, Royce, had earth magic.
And—
The third son, Ren, stood slightly apart, in the shadow of a pillar.
He recalled the words spoken to him here when he was seven.
—”Small Box.”
The silence of that moment.
His parents’ sighs.
The sound of his brother scoffing.
A small, faintly glowing box that had appeared in his palm.
A useless ability—something that couldn’t fight, couldn’t serve any purpose. A dud.
Lifting his gaze, he saw Yuan’s small back standing before the altar. Still innocent, the sixth child and fifth son pressed his lips tightly together in nervousness.
The priest began chanting a prayer, and the air trembled slightly.
Then, in the next instant—
A dazzling light enveloped Yuan’s body.
The entire church stirred in shock.
A sharp brilliance, almost like silver.
It was stronger and clearer than any blessing ever seen in this chapel.
As the light converged, sweat formed on the priest’s brow.
Then came the declaration:
“…Skill: ‘Swordsmanship.'”
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then, an explosive cheer erupted.
“Swordsmanship!?”
“Is that true!?”
Their father’s voice cracked. Their mother covered her mouth with both hands, tears welling in her eyes.
Swordsmanship.
For nobles, it was the most desired combat skill.
If it had been “Sword Saint,” it would have been legendary—but even plain swordsmanship was more than enough to be considered a great fortune.
Even the priest nodded with satisfaction.
“Well done… Yuan!”
With a beaming smile never seen before, their father lifted his young son into the air.
Right beside them, Royce stood frozen in place.
Last year, when he had gained earth magic, he had been celebrated.
Yet somewhere, there had been a lingering sense of disappointment.
The words he had once spoken flashed through the fourth son Royce’s mind:
—”Next year, I’ll get a better skill than you, Nii-san! Maybe I’ll get Swordsmanship!”
That “maybe” had been stolen… by the younger brother one year below him.
The color drained from Royce’s face.
A little apart from the circle of cheers, Ren quietly watched the scene.
It would be a lie to say his chest didn’t ache.
But he wasn’t surprised.
(So… swordsmanship really does appear after all…)
He thought vaguely to himself.
He gently turned his attention to his palm.
As if responding, a faint light flickered.
A small box.
Now, it was at least bright enough for him to read books at night.
Though no one noticed, it had certainly grown.
As the light of the blessing faded, the church filled with excitement.
At last, the Cream family had produced a wielder of swordsmanship.
Yuan, at the center of jubilation.
Royce, pale with shock.
Their father, already calculating.
And Ren, in the shadows, holding the faintly glowing small box.
Only that light, unblessed by anyone, flickered quietly.
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