Many days passed since then. Solaris was now eight years old.
The family garden was bright and lively, sunlight filtering through tall trees and perfectly trimmed hedges. Somewhere in the distance, servants were rushing around with trays, decorations, and far too many flowers.
Right in the middle of all that elegance—
"HYAA!"
Solaris charged forward, holding a wooden sword with both hands.
The white lion let out a dramatic huff and trotted forward obediently, lowering its massive head like a loyal warhorse.
"I am the knight!" Solaris declared. "And you are my horse! Faster!"
The lion snorted, clearly offended—but still galloped in a wide circle around the garden, tail swishing.
Children playing knight and horse.
Totally normal.
Solaris laughed as he almost lost balance, gripping the lion's mane to stay upright. From afar, a few gardeners paused, exchanged looks, and quietly decided not to comment on the fact that the "horse" weighed more than a carriage.
Solaris didn't notice.
He was busy thinking.
Life keeps getting busier day by day, he reflected as the lion slowed to a trot. But I like it.
He hopped off and landed neatly on his feet.
Solaris plopped down on the grass, the white lion immediately lying beside him like an oversized pillow.
In the mornings, he thought, Mother teaches me in the library.
He smiled.
I really love reading.
Books were quiet. Calm. Predictable. Much safer than… remembering things he absolutely should not remember.
To become an ordinary boy, Solaris reminded himself seriously, I have to control myself.
He counted silently.
In these past years, I've only read around five thousand books.
He nodded.
Totally normal, I suppose.
Nearby, the white lion yawned.
Father has been very busy lately, Solaris continued in his thoughts. So our training shifted from morning to afternoon.
Sword training, to be precise.
Lots of basics. Stances. Footwork. Techniques.
No energy. No mana. No glowing.
Still banned. Permanently.
Solaris sighed happily.
Oh—and today is my birthday.
He glanced toward the manor, where servants were running in and out, decorations going up, and the entire household looked like it was preparing for a small festival.
Everyone seems busy, he thought. Very busy.
The white lion lifted its head and stared at the manor too.
Solaris smiled, leaning back against its side.
A normal birthday, he decided.
A normal life.
Somewhere inside the manor, something loud crashed.
Solaris ignored it.
Children playing in the garden on their birthday was normal.
Everything was normal.
---
Some time later, Solaris was quietly arranging his practice sword when his father's voice echoed through the corridor.
"Solaris, it's training time. Come with me."
"Yes, Father."
There was no hesitation. Solaris followed obediently, wooden sword in hand, footsteps light but confident.
The training hall greeted them with silence.
A vast open ground stretched before them, polished stone floors reflecting the high ceiling lamps. Solaris stood opposite his father at the center, both holding wooden swords.
Around them, curiosity bloomed.
Maids peeked from behind half-open doors.
Guards leaned against windows, pretending they weren't watching.
An eight-year-old… facing the Sword King.
Solaris raised his sword.
So did his father.
The air trembled.
Then—
Blur.
Both figures vanished.
A sharp CLANG exploded through the hall as they reappeared midair, nearly ten feet above the ground. Wooden swords collided again and again, sparks of pressure rippling outward.
To normal eyes, it was impossible to track.
To the watchers, it looked like two shadows tearing the air apart.
Solaris moved instinctively—step, strike, twist, strike again. His attacks were fast, precise, relentless.
Inside his mind, he was calm.
Father is so cool…
He's not attacking directly. Just parrying.
Every time Solaris struck, his force was redirected, turned back against him.
He's using my strength and center of gravity… Solaris realized with admiration.
No wonder I can't land a hit.
He smiled slightly.
As expected. I'm just an ordinary eight-year-old boy.
---
Lord Alistair was not smiling. Inside—
I am gone.
Completely gone.
I am thirty-eight years old.
An A-Ranker Sword King.
WHY IS MY SON DOING THIS TO ME?!
Solaris attacked nonstop—angles changing, rhythm unpredictable, pressure constant.
Alistair could not counterattack.
He could only parry.
Again.
And again.
If not for our size difference, he thought grimly,
this fight would've ended the moment it started.
Five years.
In just five years, Solaris had mastered every technique Alistair taught him.
No—
He had refined them.
Improved them.
Surpassed them.
A wooden sword clashed against his again, forcing Alistair back midair.
I have to use mana fusion.
Carefully—silently—he infused a tiny amount of mana into his sword. Just enough. No one should notice.
He jumped back, landing lightly.
Then shouted—
"WIND SLASH!"
The hall roared.
A crescent of compressed blue wind tore forward, slicing the air itself.
Solaris's eyes widened.
He instinctively raised his wooden sword to block.
CRACK!
The sword shattered.
The remaining wind slash tore past him and carved deep into the stone floor behind, leaving a long, screaming scar.
The hall fell silent.
---
Solaris stared at the broken sword… then his face lit up.
"Wowww!"
He turned to his father, eyes glowing with excitement.
"Father! That was too cool!"
His voice echoed with pure admiration.
"You can do that with your sword? You're really super strong!"
Lord Alistair froze—then slowly straightened.
Pride flooded him instantly.
"Hmph," he said, chin lifting.
"It's nothing, boy."
He blew out confidently, almost like smoke.
"If you train hard like me, one day you can do it too."
Solaris nodded seriously, completely convinced.
"Yes! I'll try my best!"
To him, nothing felt strange.
Nothing felt impossible.
He only thought—
Father really is amazing.
Behind his calm expression, Alistair wiped sweat from his brow.
Thank the heavens…
He thinks that was normal.
The maids and guards stared in stunned silence, unsure whether they had just witnessed brilliance… or disaster.
The training hall remained quiet.
But something had already shifted.
And neither of them noticed it yet.
---
Father slowly walked toward me after the dust settled. Without a word, he bent down and picked up another wooden sword from the rack beside the wall. Like always.
He placed it gently into my hands.
"This is from me," he said calmly.
"Your birthday gift."
I looked at the sword.
Then at him.
Then at the sword again.
My face didn't change. Not even a little.
"…Don't be such a hangdog, Father," I said flatly.
"Give me a real sword already."
The surrounding maids collectively inhaled.
The guards froze.
Father's smile cracked instantly.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT."
Inside his head, however, chaos erupted.
I don't have a death wish.
Do I look like I want my son accidentally beheading someone?
I sighed dramatically.
"Okay, okay. Hangdog Father," I said generously.
"Then… can I try that move you used earlier?"
Father stiffened.
Did he notice?
No. Impossible.
I used mana so carefully—no one can tell.
He cleared his throat.
"Yes," he said, forcing confidence.
"Try it."
The maids leaned closer.
The guards leaned farther away.
---
A faint yellow spark flickered at the corner of my vision.
I tightened my grip on the wooden sword.
Breathing became heavy.
"I have to tighten my muscles," I muttered.
My teeth clenched.
Heat surged through my body.
Pain followed.
"This is painful," I thought.
"Like my body is burning from inside."
Steam-like waves shimmered around my arms.
Father frowned.
What… is he trying to do?
I raised the sword.
My muscles screamed.
My bones felt like they were grinding.
Then—
I screamed back.
"WIND—
SLASH!"
I swung.
A compressed gust of wind shot forward like a bullet.
It passed Father.
And smashed directly into the training dummy behind him.
BOOM.
The dummy split cleanly in half.
Silence followed.
I looked down.
The wooden sword… was gone.
Not broken.
Vaporized.
Only the handle remained in my hand.
"…Oh," I said, staring at it.
"This is too hard."
I scratched my head.
"And I broke my sword again, I guess. It looks burned."
Then I looked up at Father, smiling brightly.
"And you casually do this? You're really, really strong!"
---
Father stood completely still.
Behind him—
Dot.
Dot.
Dot.
His brain stopped functioning.
AAAAA—WHAT?!
This is technically impossible.
He just performed Wind Slash… without mana.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
Forced his soul back into his body.
Then calmly cleared his throat.
"Don't worry about the sword," he said evenly.
"Go rest for now."
Everyone relaxed slightly.
"Tonight," he continued,
"we have your birthday party."
I brightened.
"And also," he added carefully,
"this is the day you choose your life path."
I tilted my head.
"Life path?"
"Yes," Father said.
"House Void has a prestigious lineage. But we don't imprison our children. You are free to enjoy life, to choose your own path."
His voice softened.
"One day, when I can no longer lead—whether by age or death—you will inherit this household."
I nodded seriously.
"I understand, Sir."
Then smiled.
"I'll just become an ordinary boy."
Father stared at the ceiling.
Ordinary.
---
["That night, House Void celebrated a birthday—unaware it had just chosen its future ruler."]
---
⭐ Author's Note
[ Next Time: An Ordinary Celebration ]