As they walked slowly through the garden, Aldwin suddenly stopped. He reached into his coat and drew out a small crystal shard. With a flick of his wrist, he shattered it against the air.
"Listen carefully, Rowan," Aldwin said calmly. "What I'm about to explain will shape your future."
Rowan looked up at him, attentive.
"In this world," Aldwin continued, "swordsmen are not judged by talent alone. They are judged by blessings."
"Blessings?" Rowan asked.
"Yes," Aldwin nodded. "They are innate marks placed upon one's soul. Some are born with elemental blessings—fire, wind, water, earth, lightning. You… have all five."
Rowan stiffened slightly.
"That alone means your future is already brighter than most," Aldwin said. "However, before you enter the Royal Academy—four years from now, when you turn ten—you must choose one path. One attribute. One discipline. Focus is everything."
Rowan frowned. "But what kind of blessings are there?"
Aldwin's expression turned solemn.
"There are sword blessings," he said. "Swordman. Sword Master. Sword Lord. Sword Saint. And at the peak… Sword God."
Rowan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Sword God is the highest," Aldwin continued. "Extremely rare. Feared. Respected. I possess that blessing."
Rowan was silent.
"But Sword Saint…" Aldwin hesitated, then sighed. "In this era, it is considered a disgraced blessing."
Rowan stopped walking.
"Disgraced?" he repeated.
"Yes," Aldwin said quietly. "Those who awaken Sword Saint blessings are often mocked. Bullied. Some hide it entirely. At the Academy, having Sword Saint is seen as shameful."
Rowan's heart trembled.
That makes no sense.
In my previous world… Sword Saints were revered. Worshipped. Chosen by the heavens themselves. Only one existed at a time.
Rowan clenched his fist.
"In my world," Rowan thought, "a Sword Saint was a god among swordsmen."
He looked back at Aldwin. "Why?"
Aldwin's gaze darkened.
"Eighty years ago," he said, "Sword Saints were guardians. Chosen protectors of important bloodlines. Entire households were entrusted to them—Sword Gods, Sword Lords, Sword Masters alike. They were meant to stand against demons."
Rowan listened, unmoving.
"But one Sword Saint failed," Aldwin said. "A demon slaughtered the people he was sworn to protect. Men. Women. Children."
A cold silence settled.
"And when he realized his failure," Aldwin continued, voice heavy, "he beheaded himself before the kingdom."
Rowan's breath caught.
"From that day onward," Aldwin said, "Sword Saints became symbols of disgrace. Of failure. Of shame."
Rowan lowered his head, his thoughts burning.
So this world twisted the meaning…
They fear what they don't understand.
Aldwin continued, his voice steady but heavy with memory.
"There was also a war," he said. "It began over the Sword-Seed Fields of Botania. Those lands were vital—important enough that nations were willing to kill for them."
Rowan looked up.
"But demons were involved, right?" he asked. "Do you think you could fight demons?"
Aldwin studied his son for a moment.
"Demons are far stronger than humans," he said honestly. "Especially high-ranking ones. But what appeared back then wasn't high-ranking. It was weak—low enough that even a swordsman could force it back."
His eyes darkened.
"That swordsman was assigned to protect his people. And he did. Even when it cost him his life."
Rowan stayed silent.
Then—something felt wrong.
"…Something's off," Rowan said quietly.
Aldwin frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rowan didn't answer. He had already sensed it.
A faint spell—concealed, unstable—had been placed on Edric.
At the same time, Duke Will, Rowan's grandfather, had already left by carriage for a meeting.
Rowan's blood ran cold.
From afar, his senses reached out—
Duke Will was unconscious.
Rowan clenched his fists.
"Grandfather…" he whispered.
Without another word, he turned and slipped toward the back of the yard, choosing a path hidden from view.
"son?" Aldwin called after him. "Where are you going?"
"…Right," he muttered quietly. "I was just having a serious conversation with a six-year-old."
He smiled faintly, though there was unease in his eyes.
"He probably just wants to go play," Aldwin thought.