Chapter 86
Chapter 86
Time flowed quickly.
Like the grains of sand in an hourglass, even if I tried to grasp it, it slipped through my fingers. The sky outside the window was still clear, yet beneath it something ominous was quietly swirling.
The calm before the storm.
There could be no more fitting expression. I could feel that something unusual was happening in the North. Like a massive beast holding its breath, it appeared tranquil on the surface, but within it concealed a violent vortex.
Yet, contrary to expectations, no particular incidents or accidents occurred within the family. It was so peaceful that it felt unsettling. Ryan, as well as my other brothers, moved quietly in their respective positions. Like actors upon a stage, they followed their predetermined routes.
Meanwhile, I spent ordinary days. When the morning sunlight shone through the window, I rose and took a walk through the garden, and in the morning I headed to the training grounds. The appearance of the Harlan Mercenaries changed with each passing day. Soon, they would become my knight order.
“Young Master, please instruct us in swordsmanship again today!”
“This time it’s my turn!”
“You bastards! Do you think the Young Master has nothing better to do?”
The mercenaries’ eyes were sharp. There was no longer any hesitation in their blades. As I instructed them in swordsmanship, I spent time sometimes as a teacher, sometimes as a comrade. Watching their growth was quite enjoyable.
In my spare time, I trained myself. In a corner of the Annex’s training ground, I swung my sword alone. The swordsmanship within Van Descartes’ memories and that of Ran Winterbell were meeting and sublimating into a new form.
At times, Izumi came to offer advice.
“With that stance, you won’t be able to endure.”
“The tip of your sword is wavering. Grip it more firmly.”
Her words were always precise. Yet deep within her gaze, it always seemed as though she was hiding something. It was as if she, too, knew that these peaceful days would not last long.
Occasionally, Darkin Winterbell, the Elder Councilor and my master, came to visit. Ranked second within the Winterbell Ducal Family, the pressure emanating from his mere presence was truly immense.
When he first came, the attendants working in my residence and the members of the mercenary group trembled as though they had seen a ghost.
And understandably so—merely the way Darkin Winterbell walked seemed to freeze the surrounding air.
The pressure exuded by a martial warrior who possessed transcendent power went beyond imagination.
The attendants held their breath at the mere touch of his gaze, and the mercenaries bowed their waists to ninety degrees when they heard his footsteps. The fear that a single mistake could cost them their lives had seeped into their very bones.
But now, they seemed to have grown accustomed to it.
Whenever Darkin taught me swordsmanship, everyone instead watched in breathless silence.
Originally, it was something that should never have been allowed, but Darkin paid no mind to such things.
Rather, it was because Darkin Winterbell himself had permitted it that such a rare spectacle unfolded.
As I learned his swordsmanship, I came to realize something.
True strength did not lie in countless techniques, but in a single perfect moment. His one-strike swordsmanship was not merely a technique—it was a philosophy.
“The sword is life, Ran. And in life, there exists only a single moment.”
His teachings were always like that. Simple, yet unfathomably deep—words like an abyss.
Originally, I had intended to trace the remnants of my former comrades.
Because what Bestia had said would not leave my mind.
-If I am saying this, it means you have found the weapons of your former comrades.
-You must be curious about many things—the betrayal that occurred in the past, whether Bestia and Saladin are dead or alive, and the one who poisoned the food. If you wish to know the entire truth, gather all of your former comrades’ weapons.
-As you collect their weapons one by one, the truths you wished to know will slowly reveal themselves.
I did not know whether those words were true or false, but there was nothing to lose by trying. Apart from the truth, I also wished to gather my comrades’ relics.
However, the promised day was not far off.
The wager with the Patriarch, Arkan.
Soon, it would be the turn of the Imperial Palace and the Helios Family to arrive.
I could not move forward without resolving this first. I decided to settle this matter before anything else.
‘Can I defeat them as I am now?’
I coolly reflected upon myself. As the setting sun streaming through the window cast my shadow long, countless calculations ran through my mind.
If I used Makina, I would not lose even if I wished to. It was a power that transcended all my limits. But that would be no different from shouting for my own death. Makina’s power was a double-edged sword.
It promised ruin alongside victory.
‘It is not yet time to reveal it.’
I had to judge solely by my current swordsmanship. I resolved to exclude emotion and face reality with cold clarity.
I was now on the verge of the Ninth Star.
A number that represented the realm of those who walked the path of the sword.
It was not merely a number, but proof of one’s worth as a martial warrior.
Among martial warriors of my age, were there any who had reached the realm of the Ninth Star?
To be honest, I thought not. No matter how outstanding the master under whom one was raised, no matter how innately gifted, to reach this realm at my age was close to impossible.
No matter how much of a genius one might be, unless they encountered a series of truly absurd fortuitous encounters, reaching this level at my age would be impossible.
‘If I had not been a reincarnator, it would have been impossible for me to reach this level even now.’
Enlightenment did not come all at once. There was no knowing when, where, or in what form it would arrive.
It could take ten years to go from the Eighth Star to the Ninth Star, or conversely, it could take a single day.
But I had already experienced those things.
My shortcomings had stemmed from my body, not from a lack of enlightenment.
Of course, now even that body had been splendidly completed.
I stared at my palm, lost in thought.
I recalled the countless sword strikes I had swung with this hand, the innumerable drops of sweat I had shed. The result they had forged was the place where I now stood.
However.
Having seen that genius, doubt arose.
The First Patriarch of the Winterbell Ducal Family.
And the current Patriarch, Arkan Winterbell.
Merely recalling their names sent a chill down my spine. The two of them were geniuses who shattered every piece of common sense I spoke of.
Beings who had surpassed the limits of swordsmanship and become legends.
Arkan’s sword in particular… it was as if it were the sword of a god.
There was no guarantee that such a genius had not appeared elsewhere in this world. Rather, it was more likely that one had.
The Imperial Family and the Helios Family were no less formidable than Winterbell.
Their bloodlines, like ours, had been refined over long ages. Moreover, those coming from them would mostly be direct descendants of their families.
They would have possessed outstanding talent and undergone intense training.
Even so.
I did not feel that I would lose.
No—losing itself made no sense.
They were great trees that would one day bloom in full splendor, but that was a story for the future. For now, they were no more than saplings that had yet to blossom.
If I could not defeat even them,
Then forget about future revenge.
I would not even be qualified to become the Patriarch of the Winterbell Ducal Family.
---
The promised day.
The gates of the Winterbell Ducal Family opened.
The first to enter was the procession of the Imperial Family. Carriages adorned with pure gold lined up in succession, escorted by knights of the Imperial Guard. It was as though a river of gold flowed forth.
Following them, the procession of the Helios Family revealed itself. Flags bearing the lion crest with its flowing crimson mane fluttered in the hot southern wind.
Their carriages were decorated in a brilliant crimson like the sun itself, and even the horses that drew them boasted manes red as flames.
Each time the two processions entered the gardens of House Winterbell, the air changed. The oppressive weight created by the Imperial Family’s majesty, the blazing momentum emanating from Helios—and the frost-like aura of Winterbell that coldly confronted them.
Ron Winterbell spoke quietly beside me.
“They’ve finally arrived.”
We stood in the colonnade of House Winterbell to receive them. The Winterbell banner, bearing the silver-white wolf emblem, fluttered in the cold northern wind.
Everyone had gathered here, except for the direct lineage of Winterbell who were away.
Beginning with the Patriarch, Arkan Winterbell, then the Elder Councilor Darkin Winterbell, the Black Sword Corps Commander and my younger sister Izumi Winterbell, the eldest son Ryan Winterbell, Lux Winterbell, and others.
Arkan Winterbell stood at the very front. His white hair fluttered in the wind, and he appeared like a living legend.
Beside him, Darkin stood cold as a frost-covered blade. Izumi carried herself with unparalleled elegance, and Ryan displayed the bearing of the perfect legitimate heir.
As the Imperial procession drew closer, the air grew heavier still. Their golden-adorned column was like a living legend. The figure who stepped down from the lead carriage—Lutheran Caesar, the youngest son of the Emperor—was overwhelming. His golden armor reflected the sun with a dazzling brilliance, and an unspoken threat emanated from his scabbard.
“So this is the famed Winterbell family.”
A rather arrogant tone.
The arrogance possessed only by those of noble Imperial blood was plainly revealed.
Ryan Winterbell walked toward him with firm, measured steps. At that, Lutheran Caesar’s brow twisted slightly.
“Welcome to the Winterbell Ducal Family. I am the legitimate heir of Winterbell, Ryan Winterbell.”
Ryan Winterbell’s actions carried many implications. First, the Patriarch Arkan did not step forward. Second, neither the Elder Councilor nor Izumi—whose standing was comparable—moved. Instead, the eldest son, Ryan Winterbell, stepped forth personally. Implicitly, it displayed the opponent’s rank.
Since the Emperor himself had not come, the Patriarch Arkan would not move either.
“…A pleasure.”
The procession of the Helios Family was even more intense. Their crimson armor resembled living flames, and the horses they led exuded a presence as though they had risen from hell itself. Leon Helios was particularly striking. His red hair flowed like a lion’s mane, and it seemed as though the southern sun itself resided within his gaze.
The moment the three families faced one another, the air seemed to freeze. The majesty of the Imperial Family, the heat of Helios, and the chill of Winterbell collided, forming a strange current. It was as if three massive beasts stood growling at one another.
Darkin’s brow furrowed faintly.
“Their momentum is different from before.”
He was right. The young generation gathered from each family this time was different from those of the past. In all of their eyes burned a competitiveness bordering on madness. This would no longer be a mere friendly match.
Arkan still maintained a calm expression. Yet I could sense the faint vibration in the air around him. He, too, seemed to have perceived that this meeting was unlike the usual ones.
“Now then, it begins.”
Izumi murmured softly.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what our youngest will show.”
I silently fixed my gaze ahead. It would soon begin—the blood-scented festival of the young generation bearing the futures of the three families.