Reincarnated as the Adopted Son of a Prestigious Swordsmanship Family

Chapter 55: Haryun Bahab (3)

“…What do you think, Sir Jeremiah?”

Haryun, who had been watching the dueling arena, spoke.

“Egna. Egna Harkinwagen. Very interesting. It seems he has learned the swift sword of the Margrave of Harkinwagen very well.”

Jeremiah’s eyes were full of interest.

All eight duels had ended in a single blow. Each duel took less than a minute.

‘No. This time it would be two blows.’

He recalled the Margrave of Harkinwagen he had seen once before. He too was a knight who had mastered the swift sword, no, a swordsman.

They said the hero Exa Mectera had personally created a suitable swordsmanship for him.

“But I don’t like his methods.”

Haryun uttered in a displeased tone.

Looking at times like this, she was indeed of Bahab blood. The way she expressed her emotions was so. Her voice was honest, and her actions were uninhibited.

“Isn’t it vulgar? His words, his attitude. They are not those of a noble.”

Eight duels, eight provocations.

This time, he shook the scabbard to create an illusion.

Before that, he performed a trick of holding the scabbard, throwing the sword high up, and having it land in the scabbard.

And before that, he used the tip of his sword to lift the scabbard like a ball, and to one opponent, he performed a trick of catching the sword falling after hitting the ceiling with two fingers.

And even before that…….

“My lady is correct. However, Sir Egna is a man of Harkinwagen. One who crosses swords with the Black Land.”

Jeremiah swallowed his saliva for a moment. How should he convince this lady? He pondered that.

“There are no duels in the Black Land. If you greet them politely, your head will be cut off. Or your eyes will be plucked out.”

The Black Land still worships the Doom Species. The streets are overflowing with outlaws.

The Margrave of Harkinwagen is a gimlet who does not hesitate to infiltrate the Black Land.

Egna Harkinwagen too must have faced and experienced the Black Land from a young age.

“In a real battle, provocation is a skill that cannot be ignored. Sir Egna must have learned how to deal with the outlaws of the Black Land.”

“…….”

Haryun scratched her palm instead of answering.

A habit that comes out when she concedes. If he asked one more time here, Haryun would confess that she had been rash.

‘Who on earth said this person was like ice.’

Jeremiah smiled warmly. She was known to have a personality like ice, but that was a misunderstanding caused by this attitude.

The contempt of the firstborn and numerous comparisons. Haryun had only become skilled at hiding her emotions. The complete opposite of Bahab’s boldness.

“It’s alright. It’s not like you reprimanded him in front of him. You understand now, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Now, let’s think about something else. What did you think when you saw Sir Egna’s provocation?”

“Annoying. I understand why his opponents charged at him.”

“That is also correct. Then what if you think of it as a trick?”

“A trick?”

“Yes.”

From Jeremiah’s perspective, it was a topic he couldn’t just let pass. Because honestly, he was also impressed.

“All the tricks he used for provocation are things that can only be shown if one can handle the sword as if it were their own limbs.”

“…….”

“Except for the last one.”

At Jeremiah’s words, Haryun swallowed her words.

Excluding the final illusion… a total of seven tricks. How many of them could she imitate?

Haryun began to think about it.

She could follow three, was not confident in another three. And the remaining one, she couldn't even dare to try.

Lifting the scabbard with a sword?

‘With just the tip of the sword?’

Flicking it with a constant force and speed, so that the scabbard in the air rotates without rest? So that the rotation becomes so fast that it eventually creates an illusion?

“It’s alright. That is difficult for me as well.”

Jeremiah, who had read Haryun’s thoughts, smiled.

“Even you, Sir Jeremiah?”

Haryun’s eyes widened.

A Sword Master can’t do it? It would be a trick that is of no help in training, let alone a real battle.

“I can imitate it, but I won’t be able to do it as naturally as he did. It would be a different story if I used magic, but at least Sir Egna did not do so.”

A Sword Master possessed physical abilities that could be called the limit of a human. If one put their mind to it, they could pull it off.

But in Jeremiah’s eyes, Egna was not a Sword Master. He didn't even use magic. Yet, it was extremely natural.

“Sir Egna is probably more comfortable eating with a sword than with his hands or utensils.”

Humans spend their entire lives with their hands, but not all humans have the same dexterity. If that’s the case for one’s own body, what about a tool like a sword?

Jeremiah highly valued that point. Talent for magic is one thing, but… talent for the sword, an innate affinity for blades.

Things that true Sword Masters ought to possess. Egna Harkinwagen had it.

“How is it? Sir Hejel probably did not have a person of Sir Egna’s skill level in his calculations.”

“…I’ll check for myself.”

***

The hardships of time may change one’s impression, but the other party was a Sword Master and a wrinkle-free Swelling Flame.

Akarr Bahab must still have a venomous impression. To be venomous without wrinkles.

Though the Bahabs were beautiful for generations, that was quite eerie.

If you saw her in the middle of the night, she would look like a walking mannequin or a ghost.

That wasn't just malicious slander, but a proven fact. As soldiers had fainted on the battlefield on more than one or two occasions.

‘This one is much better.’

Simurtr thought as he looked at Haryun, who had stepped into the dueling arena. Soft features. The complete opposite of Akarr.

Beautiful, as befits a Bahab, but not eerie. It would probably be fine even if he saw her in the dark.

‘They said the firstborn takes after the maternal side.’

At least the soldiers wouldn't collapse in the middle of the night. Haryun had an obligation to be grateful to her father.

Thanks to him, she didn’t resemble Akarr. Of course, it would only be her appearance, but still.

‘How great is that.’

Simurtr wiped his face with his hand. He was smiling. As expected. Still, it was better than the first time. Thanks to the eight duels, his excitement had calmed down to some extent.

…But even so, he couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity.

‘What kind of expression would Akarr make if I killed her.’

Though she was said to favor the firstborn… she was her child.

Would she be sad? She probably would.

Then how much?

‘Sssip.’

If he were told to kill her now, he could.

If he killed Haryun… next, he would have to kill Jeremiah. Then he would have to go up to the surface immediately and collapse the building, delaying the time it takes for the news of Haryun’s death to reach the main castle…….

‘I never thought I’d come to understand the feelings of those who advocate for collective punishment.’

How can the sins of the parents be passed on to the children?

He had thought that collective punishment was extremely futile and utterly unfair.

…Perhaps collective punishment was a system created by a wise man. Looking at Haryun, such a thought unconsciously came to mind.

“How old are you?”

At Haryun’s voice, Simurtr unconsciously closed his eyes. The Akarr from his imagination was vividly drawn.

Do they resemble each other? No, their voices didn't resemble each other either.

“Eighteen.”

“You’re older than me. I’m seventeen.”

Of course, her lack of expression was the same. Since she had no wrinkles. But he felt a sense of incongruity because their features were so opposite.

Akarr wasn't like that.

‘Fuck.’

After comparing Haryun to Akarr so much.

‘What am I doing.’

Suddenly, a sense of self-loathing hit him.

‘What’s the point.’

The opponent was not Akarr.

Simurtr’s reason knew that.

But his heart wanted to kill Haryun. That was the reason for the comparison. He wanted to find a resemblance somehow. He wanted to see Akarr through Haryun.

He wanted to see Akarr grieve, to see her rage. He wanted her to regret. So, he wanted to kill Haryun. He wanted to find a reason to kill Haryun, kill her, and feel a sense of exhilaration…….

‘…Fuck.’

When his thoughts reached that point, Simurtr bit his lip. Blood seeped from his lip. It was a pathetic taste.

Why was he making such a comparison when he knew it was a foolish act?

‘I’m scared.’

He knew the answer.

Akarr was right here in the Bahab main castle, but he had neither the confidence nor the strength to kill her. The newly imposing walls of Bahab were unfamiliar.

He had accepted his current weakness and obtained the means of Phantasmal Ability, but the road ahead was still long.

It was different from when he had encountered Jiaren. Back then, at least he didn't blame others. He had no intention of seeking such vicarious satisfaction.

‘So fucking pathetic.’

He had been reincarnated. His status had been lowered, but even so, a Mectera was a Mectera. Meram, Aran, the old man, and later even Semenu.

After his reincarnation, there was always someone by Simurtr’s side. Even in Degrate, Aran and Semenu were with him.

But now? This was the first time he had been left alone in the lion’s den, and he felt powerless. How long had it been since he had felt such powerlessness?

‘After being expelled from Mectera, and before meeting my master.’

Yes. That was the last time. There was none after that. His dependable and beloved master was with him, and when he went to war, his martial prowess was so high.

Exa at the time of the war had long since acquired the strength to win even if Akarr and Gerehk came at him together.

“I didn’t expect to meet someone my age here.”

Yes, unlike the 16-year-old Simurtr.

Exa.

“At what age did you start training the sword? I started at four….”

‘Let’s stop.’

Simurtr squeezed his eyes shut.

What kind of disgrace was this? The opponent was a child who hadn't even come of age yet.

Young enough to be happy just seeing someone her age.

He was reminded of the siblings who had apologized on behalf of Arnea. At that time, Simurtr knew that the siblings had done nothing wrong. The exile was solely the fault of Arnea and Janya.

‘Why differentiate between people. Especially when they’re the same kids.’

The Haryun in front of him was no different from the siblings.

Akarr Bahab was a traitor who deserved to be chewed up and spat out. But Haryun was not.

She was the daughter of an enemy, but not the enemy.

‘Why kill her.’

What he wanted was the traitor’s head.

Not the erosion of their emotions.

The moment of erosion should be right before their death. At that moment when he was about to stab their hearts. They had to be eroded by Exa, and no one else.

That was what Simurtr wanted.

The families of the traitors. And if their children got in the way, he would gladly kill them, but.

“…Sir Egna?”

“Yes.”

“Um… could I possibly see that again?”

“…….”

“That… you were flicking the scabbard with your sword….”

Simurtr smiled without realizing it.

No matter how he thought about it.

There was no reason to kill the current Haryun.

***

-It’s fine. You don’t have to shout.

Simurtr.

He listened to Haryun’s request. As he flicked the scabbard, he sent a telepathic message.

-You said you might cause trouble. Are you just going to do it?

-No, I don’t think I will anymore.

That was what he had said when Haryun stepped into the dueling arena.

That if he had to duel with her, he wasn't confident he wouldn't kill her.

-I’ll be on guard. My life is on the line too.

-Right.

He no longer smiled when he saw her face. He probably wouldn't make a mistake even if they crossed swords.

“Shall I continue? Any more than this is impossible without using magic.”

The rotation of the scabbard was gradually reaching its limit.

To do more from here, he had to use magic. Without using magic, he could no longer match the speed of rotation.

“…Ah. No. You can stop.”

There was no audience now. When Haryun entered the dueling arena, Jeremiah had dismissed all the invitees.

It wasn't that they had moved to the banquet hall, but that they had left the building, a fact that Deban had confirmed himself.

‘This is troublesome.’

It must be because she had chosen her partner.

Simurtr thrust his sword into the air. The scabbard, which had been rotating in the air, fit snugly into the opening.

“Wow…….”

Haryun let out a short exclamation of admiration.

Her wrist twitched unconsciously; she was following the movements Simurtr was making in her head.

‘This is strange.’

At that reaction, Simurtr tilted his head.

It was too pure. It was like watching a young disciple imitating their master.

‘17 years old.’

Considering her age, it was an appropriate reaction, but wasn't the other party Akarr’s daughter?

On top of that, an arrogant person who held an amusement disguised as a banquet for the reason of finding a partner.

“How long did it take you to do that?”

“A day?”

“Lies.”

“What would I gain from lying?”

This playful warm-up was a habit his master used to do before instructing Exa. As the years passed, his body wasn't what it used to be. He said this loosened up his wrists well.

It wasn't very difficult. It was literally a simple warm-up. He said it took a day, but Exa could imitate it as soon as he saw it.

“Is there some kind of know-how? A tip or something.”

“Just hit it up at an angle.”

“…Do you not want to talk to me?”

“…That’s not it.”

“Then tell me.”

The Bahab express their emotions through words and actions.

Because there is no way to express it with their faces. They can’t even frown if they want to.

The dream of gamblers, and the masters of poker faces.

‘What’s with her?’

That’s why he was perplexed.

Because he had never imagined that a Bahab would ask so innocently. And Akarr’s daughter at that. The host of a ridiculous banquet.

“You don’t want to?”

Honestly, he didn't. It was just a waste of time.

He felt burdened as he seemed to have been chosen as the partner. He had no intention of making things this big.

“…The important thing is the wrist. Don’t use unnecessary force, and think about the axis of rotation….”

But for now, Simurtr demonstrated again. Seeing those eyes, he felt like he would feel guilty if he didn’t.

Her features, so different from Akarr’s, played a part. There was also his curiosity about her personality.

“Oh…….”

Haryun, who had approached to within three steps, her eyes shining.

“Ah…….”

Then she crouched down and began to openly watch the rotating scabbard. Watching her, Simurtr looked around.

“It’s a good sight.”

“Indeed. It has been a long time since the young lady has shown such a side of herself.”

Deban, right in front of the dueling arena's bars, in a position where he could intervene immediately if something happened.

Jeremiah, standing next to him, smiling.

‘When did you two get so close?’

A desolate interior where only four people existed, including himself and Haryun. No matter how he thought about it, Haryun’s partner was him. The desolate space spoke for itself.

‘What should I do?’

Do as you please.

Words his master had once said. But there was a premise attached to it.

If you are confident.

If you do it without confidence and basis, you are just an animal. Exa had proven his desire to participate in the war with his achievements.

Then what about this time?

Did he have the confidence to maintain his composure in front of Akarr?

‘As if that would work. I almost killed this one too.’

The reason for his change of heart.

He must not become Haryun’s partner.

‘I’ll just go there, exude a fuck ton of killing intent, get caught, and die.’

If it was that bad when he just met the daughter, how would it be in front of the person herself?

In his current state, he couldn’t even handle the Akarr of 20 years ago. Even if he used his full power, he probably wouldn’t be able to leave a single scratch.

‘How can I avoid becoming her partner?’

Even if he could maintain his composure, it would be a problem.

Harkinwagen. The Margrave in charge of the south of the Empire. The banquet in a month was for none other than the eldest son of the Ducal House of Bahab.

The participants would all be big shots. Would they not know the son of that Harkinwagen?

Perhaps the Count of Harkinwagen himself would participate.

The moment he participated in the banquet, his identity would be revealed. Harkinwagen would be safe, but sparks might fly towards Mectera.

‘Knowing the old man’s personality, there’ll be hell to pay if I get caught. And I won’t be able to face Aran.’

Why did that bastard have to become a count?

Simurtr regretted telling Jeremiah he was from Harkinwagen. The reason he chose Harkinwagen was that he had been a baron in the past.

And not a capital noble, but one from the frontier, with not an iota of fame.

There were no nobles who knew the name Harkinwagen during the war. If he had known he would become this famous, he would have used a different name.

‘Should I run?’

Or should I agree for now and then go into hiding?

‘If it weren’t for Homer, I would have done that.’

It wasn't a good solution. The illusion was still in effect. Simurtr grabbed his bangs slightly and pulled them down. Brown. His eyes would probably be brown too.

‘Will it harm Homer?’

If he disappeared here, there would be no harm to Mectera. Then what about Harkinwagen?

What should I do? As he was pondering.

C-crack. Suddenly, the air split open.

It was between Haryun and Simurtr. The first to react was Simurtr. He knocked the flicking scabbard high up and snatched Haryun.

“What the—!”

A beat later than him, Deban opened the door of the dueling arena. He quickly caught the Haryun that Simurtr had thrown.

The veteran Jeremiah extended his sword and cut through the iron bars. A path for Simurtr to escape was created.

“Come out!”

“Young master!”

As Jeremiah and Deban shouted simultaneously.

Simurtr spun around and fiercely struck the opening of the falling scabbard with the flat of his sword.

Fwoosh! The scabbard shot into the space that had already formed and was no longer widening.

Clang!

“Clang?”

A clear sound came from within the opened space. The scabbard? It didn't come back out.

The scabbard had definitely hit something. Simurtr sharpened his vision. Clomp, clomp.

Someone was walking out.

“I almost died!”

The voice he heard… was not young. At a glance, it was the age of someone whose voice had already broken. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel⦿fire.net

“I would have died if I hadn’t reinforced it with magic.”

That’s why the tone of voice was so awkward.

Simurtr furrowed his brow. Not because the low, deep voice was unpleasant to hear. That split space. A small, oval passage.

“You get hit too. That way it’s fair.”

It wasn't a Doom Species rift. That didn't cause a magic phenomenon. It was different from what was in front of him.

Tuk, tutuk. The edges of the passage were slowly cracking. Soon, from the ends, it began to fall like sleet. Crystals of magic. A phenomenon only seen in the spells of a spellcaster.

“…Is that, a warp?”

The means that had surely allowed them to invade the Sacred Mountain, kill Kelken, and help Janya and Beden escape. The mobility skill that Basor prided itself on.

“Are you Haryun Bahab?”

The magician who revealed himself smiled with his eyes.

“Why are you looking for me?”

Simurtr asked calmly.

He glanced at Deban from the corner of his eye and gestured with his chin.

“My father told me to bring you.”

“Just me?”

“Yep.”

Deban quickly blocked his view. Standing awkwardly behind the sword-drawn Jeremiah, he volunteered to be an obstacle between the magician and Haryun Bahab.

“Why?”

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“You should have asked. Weren’t you curious?”

Simurtr scanned the magician with his eyes.

An adult. Considering the delicate physique characteristic of a magician, that was an adult.

“I was curious. But he didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, really? I would have told you. But am I the first?”

“No! The second. No, the third?”

“Who was it?”

“I went to Mectera!”

“Why?”

“There was something my father ordered me to do.”

“I see.”

Simurtr smiled brightly.

Then the magician smiled back.

As stupid as his manner of speaking.

“Did you create the warp?”

Warp was the specialty of a great magician. 8th Circle. Without that level, one couldn't fold distance.

“Yep, but I got help.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t make it by myself.”

“Who helped you?”

“My father!”

“I see.”

“But are you Haryun Bahab? I was told Bahabs are red.”

“That’s right. I was actually hiding it with a magic tool.”

Simurtr manifested an illusion.

His brown hair and eyes turned red.

“Huh? It’s true!”

“Awesome, right?”

As expected. Warp. It was the realm of a great magician, but the guy said he couldn't create it alone.

‘The one called father is a great magician.’

Then the Phantasmal Ability would work. Magicians were more sensitive to magic than anyone, but illusion was a higher concept that could be called an authority.

Even a great magician would probably have difficulty noticing it. The Star-Breaking Style’s illusion possessed a unique realism that even the Phantasm Jiaren couldn't distinguish.

“Yep! I want one too!”

“Should I give it to you?”

“You’ll give it to me?”

“No.”

The magician pouted.

Simurtr’s smile deepened. A stupid and simple guy. Perfect for digging out information.

“But I was told Haryun Bahab is a woman.”

“I’m hiding that too right now. This is a really good magic tool, you know?”

“I’m jealous. But why hide it?”

“Because I’m too pretty. If I go around in my original gender, too many flies buzz around me.”

“If flies buzz around, can’t you just catch them?”

“Flies are living creatures too.”

“Ah, I know. I know what you mean. He said everything is a living creature.”

What do you know.