Klein Leinrant.
"Oh great Lord God Delsion, please save this young soul from the hands of evil! Deliver him from the shadow of corruption!"
Crack.
A priest built like he could snap a bear's spine in half trembled as he shouted at me with clasped hands.
Above my head spun a little angel mobile in circles.
Every time I looked at it, it felt like my own head was about to spin off.
"I'm not possessed, I'm not possessed! Screw Archimond and all that bullshit, I'm not possessed—!"
The moment I finally exploded and shouted with all my might—
"Put him back in."
At Father Garrison's words, I was plunged back into the tub—no, the holy water barrel.
"Blubblubblub…!"
After bubbling helplessly in holy water for ten whole seconds—
"Pwah! Purified, purified! I've been purified already! So stop it already…!"
Thus today as well, I, Archimond—no, Klein Leinrant—once again surrendered to the oppression of that evil priest.
"It seems holy water works well today, Father!"
"It is thanks to Miss Arin's prayers. Now then, let us finish with one final prayer."
"Yes, Father!"
By the time I had collapsed from exhaustion after enduring what went beyond water torture into outright holy-water torture—
The maid Arin placed a white cone-shaped hat on my head before kneeling in front of me.
"May our young master live as the descendant of a righteous hero, under the grace of the Saint, the Holy Spirit, and the sacred Order…"
"God, seriously!"
I snatched the white hat off my head and threw it away.
"Ah! The mobile and hat I worked so hard to make…!"
Arin's words made me flinch.
The fallen mobile had little angels and rabbits stitched onto it, each one carefully knitted into an adorable shape.
"Ah, uh, Arin. Sorry…"
Seeing the obvious disappointment on her face, I started feeling maybe I had gone too far.
'That was too emotional. She must've knitted that carefully with those tiny little hands…'
"Father Garrison made it himself."
Nope, I take that back immediately.
Who made this?
I slowly turned my head toward Father Garrison.
The hulking mountain of muscle was dabbing tears from his eyes with a handkerchief.
"How cruel, Young Master. I spent an entire week embroidering it with care…"
"H-Haha…!"
A giant over two and a half meters tall diligently knitting by hand.
I was going insane.
The moment I pictured it, my sanity nearly blacked out.
"Give me back my guilt, you lunatic priest bastard—!"
"Oho, such emotional reactions! As expected, the lingering thoughts of Archimond still remain—!"
"AAAAAAAH—!"
Father Garrison's purification ritual had long since become part of my daily routine.
Watching the scene with a smile, the knight Dunkel gently tried calming the priest down.
"It was already twelve years ago, Father. Even the Order has declared there's no issue…"
"Hahaha, one can never be too careful. It is merely preparation for the worst."
Seeing Father Garrison smile kindly only made my blood pressure rise.
Preparation for the worst?
For that "just in case," you've been waterboarding someone into their teens?
Is this bastard actually insane?
"My apologies. We have a lesson soon."
"Oho, I see."
At Dunkel's words, Garrison reluctantly stood up.
"Ah, Commander Dunkel. About the documents I requested before…"
"His Grace the Duke has approved it. Someone will bring them shortly."
At those words, Father Garrison brightened immediately and prepared to leave.
When I say something, he ignores it completely, but when a knight commander says it, suddenly he listens?
…Bastard's pretty good at workplace politics.
"The next purification ritual is on Friday, Young Master! You understand, yes? We must cleanse the evil energy—!"
"Get the hell out already—!"
That damned priest kept running his mouth even while leaving.
Leaning out into the hallway to shout after him, I collapsed onto the sofa in utter exhaustion.
"But Young Master, you really aren't Archimond anymore, right?"
The maid Arin, wearing glasses nearly half the size of her face, approached me with a question.
Her twin braids swayed from side to side.
"I never was. At this point, hearing that name alone makes me sick."
Of course that was a lie, though not entirely.
I had been so overjoyed to come back to life that I proudly shouted my name at the top of my lungs… only for it to happen inside Berkel's family estate.
Thanks to that, I'd been locked inside a monastery until the age of ten.
"After spending seven years imprisoned by the Order, I finally thought I'd returned to the ducal house, and now that priest bastard is…"
"Even so, he is an Executor of the Holy Church. There must be another reason behind it."
Dunkel's words made my pounding headache worsen.
Ever since being reborn, I had spent my entire life under the surveillance of the Holy Order.
At a time when I should've been restoring my mana as quickly as possible, I had been tied down helplessly until the age of fifteen.
"What's an Executor? Is it someone important?"
At Arin's question, Dunkel answered.
"It is a title granted only to the strongest of the Order. He is so powerful that only His Grace the Duke could stand against him."
As I listened to Dunkel's explanation, I dried the holy water soaking my hair with a towel.
My uselessly beautiful silver hair fluttered lightly.
"Waaah, then how strong is His Grace the Duke?"
"Duke Leinrant has always been the strongest knight on the continent."
"Then! Then!"
At some point, Arin's interest had shifted completely away from my identity and onto Dunkel's stories.
'Good. Better this than talking about my past life.'
Just as I inwardly sighed in relief—
"If Lord Berkel and Lord Heinkel fought, who would win?"
Arin's innocent question turned toward Dunkel.
The First Duke, Berkel Leinrant.
The current Seventh Duke, Heinkel Leinrant.
At the mention of those two names, Dunkel hesitated for a moment.
"Haha… hmm, well."
For a knight of Leinrant, it was quite an awkward question.
Still, after thinking for a moment, he seemed to arrive at an answer and looked at Arin.
"Lord Berkel's achievements are dazzling indeed, but Leinrant swordsmanship has evolved greatly over the past two hundred years. So in my opinion, His Grace Heinkel would—"
"No."
My firm voice cut off Dunkel's explanation.
"Berkel is the strongest."
At my serious expression, Dunkel fell silent.
"Young Master. I understand how you feel, but he is still your father. Now…"
"Berkel is the strongest."
When I repeated it more forcefully, Dunkel let out a small sigh and stood up.
He realized there was no point continuing once I had said that much.
"You really like Lord Berkel, don't you, Young Master? Is it because he's a hero?"
Arin spoke while nibbling at the cookies on my table.
"Yeah. Because he's a hero."
As I answered her question, my gaze settled on the portrait hanging in the center of the room.
Berkel Leinrant.
The hero who defeated me, Archimond, and brought peace to the continent.
But now, that family was…
Knock knock.
The sound of knocking pulled me from my thoughts.
Turning my head, I saw an elderly gentleman dressed in a black suit.
It was Berkman, the head butler.
"Young Master Klein."
At his appearance, Arin hurriedly jumped up from the sofa.
"Ghk…!"
But was she one step too late, or had he noticed the crumbs on her apron?
The moment Berkman narrowed his eyes at her, cold sweat appeared on her face.
"Arin. Again, you've been letting the Young Master—"
"Ahhh, wait wait!"
I hurriedly interrupted Berkman before he could start scolding her.
"What's today's lesson? History? Languages? Hurry up and tell me. I really want to study."
As I covered for Arin, Berkman sighed helplessly.
"There are no lessons today. Instead, by order of His Grace the Duke, you are to attend the swordsmanship demonstration."
"A demonstration? Me?"
At my question, Berkman nodded.
I studied his uncomfortable expression.
And the moment I saw it, a possibility crossed my mind.
"The collateral branch came again, didn't they?"
As I frowned, the butler nodded deeply with a sigh.
Yeah. I knew exactly what that meant.
What a damned family this was.
Clang—!
With a heavy metallic sound, a sword flew into the air.
"The Meteor Sword!? Impossible!"
Dalton, the sparring opponent, let out a groan.
The Meteor Sword.
A technique named for its invisible speed and radiant mana glow.
It was the secret art of Leinrant Swordsmanship established by Heinkel Leinrant himself.
"Spar concluded!"
The supervisor's voice rang through the training grounds.
The one who had knocked Dalton's sword away was my half-brother, Delline Leinrant.
The genius prodigy of House Leinrant.
"Excellent, Delline."
Duke Heinkel's satisfied voice echoed out.
Even Heinkel, the creator of the technique, had only perfected it in his mid-thirties.
Yet Delline had mastered it at barely twenty years old.
"That mana capacity and precision… knights his age wouldn't even dare attempt it. His talent is overwhelming."
"Yes. Indeed."
Watching the technique from outside the arena, I sank into thought.
'Two steps forward… angle the sword path slightly more to the side. And the mana arrangement is…'
This was the first time I had seen knights sparring since reincarnating.
Perhaps because it had been so long since I last watched a battle, their techniques and movements replayed endlessly inside my mind.
Replay? No, this wasn't mere replaying. Rather…
"Klein!"
"H-Huh?"
A bright voice snapped me from my thoughts.
Delline, having finished the duel, had approached me.
The training grounds were already crowded with people hoping to meet Heinkel.
"I came over since it's been a while since I saw you, but what were you thinking about so seriously?"
"…Nothing."
As I vaguely brushed aside Delline's question, irritated voices rose from the crowd gathered for the demonstration.
"To toy with Dalton like that… absurd."
"To display that technique in front of all these people…"
"It's a show of force. A declaration that the ducal house still stands strong. This won't be easy."
The ones glaring at Delline with displeasure were members of the Leinrant family's collateral branches.
"So why are those people here?"
At my question, Delline answered.
"It's about the mine in the western territory."
"The proposal to hand it over to the Empire? Didn't we reject that half a year ago?"
"The Empire apparently raised an objection. At this meeting…"
While listening to Delline's explanation, I glanced at the relatives talking amongst themselves.
Among those dressed in luxurious clothing were imperial officials as well.
'The northern lords who fought against me to the bitter end… have now become the Empire's dogs.'
A frown formed on my face as I watched them bow and scrape before imperial bureaucrats.
Twenty years ago, the Empire had viewed the North's independence as a thorn in its side and interfered in every matter imaginable.
Thanks to those people, House Leinrant had already lost over half its territory to collateral branches.
And yet, despite all that, the ducal title and authority remained intact for only one reason.
The final will of the First Duke, Berkel.
"Delline."
At Heinkel's voice, Delline stepped forward.
I, who had been dragged along with him, was merely an extra.
"'The Duke of Leinrant must always be the greatest knight of the Empire.' Those were the final words of the First Duke, Lord Berkel."
At Heinkel's words, Delline nodded.
'That was meant for the collateral branches. If they covet the ducal seat, they should try defeating Delline first.'
Whether my assumption was right or not, several relatives clicked their tongues as they looked toward Heinkel.
"Always keep those words in your heart and strive forward. My expectations are high."
"Thank you, Father!"
"Yes. And…"
After speaking to Delline, the Duke turned his gaze toward me.
"Klein."
Unlike when he addressed Delline, his voice carried a deep sigh.
'Finally my turn.'
Thinking that, I walked forward toward Heinkel.
Only now seeming to notice my existence, several relatives abruptly stopped talking.
"I… cannot sense any mana from you."
"My apologies, Father."
The tone in which Heinkel spoke to me was close to resignation.
From the age of three, I had been entrusted to the Holy Order and raised there for four years.
And that period—
From age three to seven—was the most important stage in a swordsman's life.
"I attempted it personally, but it was already too late."
"I see."
At Dunkel's additional explanation, Heinkel nodded.
The Cycle.
The process of channeling mana stored in the lower abdomen into the body's meridian points to break open blocked pathways.
Completing that process during infancy was the prerequisite for raising a knight.
"…No, enough. There are paths besides the sword."
A swordsman unable to use mana could never become a knight.
Even if he did, he would only become monster feed in his first battle.
That was why Heinkel spoke to me like that.
"You need only find another path and devote yourself to it. Work hard."
"Thank you."
When it came to swordsmanship, Heinkel was stricter than anyone else.
Yet he never said much to me.
Scolding and pressuring someone required the belief that they still had potential.
And since my potential had already been deemed nonexistent, I was nothing more than worthless baggage.
"Hah. To think a Leinrant prince could be so pathetic."
After the Duke and his heir Delline departed for the conference hall with the relatives—
I turned around and saw Dalton, the knight who had sparred with Delline earlier.
"So the eldest beat you, and now you're taking your frustration out on the second son? Watching this is embarrassing."
The moment I fired back, veins bulged across Dalton's forehead.
"That foul mouth of yours hasn't changed."
A heavy sneer spread across Dalton's face.
"You're the spitting image of your lowborn barbarian mother."
For a moment, my face hardened.
Not because of my mother, whose face I had never even seen.
But because of the rigid contempt, elitism, and arrogance in his words.
The fact that the family of Berkel—the hero who killed me—had fallen to this level disgusted me.
"A worthless insect with neither swordsmanship nor mana acting like a prince! You're the shame of the family—!"
"And flirting with clueless country ladies behind ballrooms is the family pride, I suppose?"
The sudden accusation made Dalton flinch.
"Y-You… how do you know that?"
"You thought bribing the other side would keep them quiet forever? Are you naïve or just stupid?"
As I shrugged and said that, Dalton's face turned bright red instantly.
"Hah! Even if trash like you tries nitpicking over that—!"
"I'm not nitpicking, so could you at least try not getting caught? You collateral-branch idiot."
At that, Dalton's face twisted even further.
"W-What did you say?!"
"I said stop disgracing the family name. I don't want to be lumped together with someone like you."
Contempt answered with contempt.
Seeing Dalton's face alternate between red and blue loosened the frustration bottled inside me.
"You son of a bitch!!"
But perhaps because his pride had been wounded, Dalton began channeling mana and marched toward me with a wooden sword in hand.
"Perfect timing. I'll use this chance to fix that rotten attitude of yours—!"
"That is enough, Sir Dalton."
A snow-white blade blocked the space between me and Dalton.
It was my guard knight, Dunkel.
"I can no longer overlook such disrespect."
"…Tch!"
Dalton's swordsmanship was impressive among his peers, but only above average at best.
He couldn't even defeat Delline, let alone Dunkel, a knight commander.
Perhaps merely facing the difference in strength had made him realize it, because Dalton slowly withdrew his mana and threw the wooden sword onto the ground.
"Be grateful your guard knight saved you. Coward!"
After hurling that insult, Dalton stormed off furiously.
"Young Master. Please don't pay attention to his words."
"I don't care about that. More importantly…"
Without even glancing at the fuming Dalton, I clutched my head.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing serious."
After answering Dunkel, I hesitated briefly before speaking.
"…Dunkel, do you happen to have a spare sword?"
***
Late at night.
An empty training ground devoid of people.
Secretly guarding his master from the darkness, Dunkel followed him there.
"To come to the training grounds at this hour…"
As Dunkel muttered, Klein opened the storage room door and dragged something out.
"Hup… cha…"
A massive blue stone, transparent like crystal and as large as a human.
Cheongok.
A specialty found only in the North.
From the moment training began until the day one received knighthood, Leinrant knights continuously struck these stones apart as part of tradition.
Delline had split his in half at age seven.
Meanwhile, Klein's remained completely pristine, without so much as a scratch.
"So Delline stood like this… and swung like this?"
Soon, Klein swung his sword toward the blue stone.
The motion was painfully slow, as if time itself had slowed.
Yet the instant Dunkel recognized the movement, his expression twisted.
'The Meteor Sword.'
Delline's technique demonstrated earlier that day.
Watching Klein awkwardly imitate it made Dunkel's heart grow heavy.
'So he still hasn't given up on the sword.'
Even while Dunkel thought that, Klein continued tracing the sword path slowly.
Talent that had withered before it could bloom.
Potential long since sealed away.
Watching Klein swing the sword now made Dunkel feel pity.
'It's too late. Even if he reproduces the sword path, with that level of mana there's no way—'
Whoosh—!
But in the very next moment, Dunkel's expression stiffened slightly.
'What was that just now?'
He doubted his own eyes.
No mana glow appeared.
And yet, the instant Klein swung his sword—
'It disappeared? Young Master Klein's sword?'
For a brief moment, even he—a knight commander—had failed to follow the sword's movement.
'Impossible. Without mana, there's no way he could achieve that speed. And Young Master Klein of all people…!'
As Dunkel stood shocked by the impossible situation—
"Oh, so this is how you do it?"
With that brief remark, the wooden sword in Klein's hand vanished.
Fiiing—!
"…Huh?"
It was neither metaphor nor exaggeration.
Nor had he mistaken what he saw.
For that brief instant when Klein swung his sword—
Dunkel could not see the blade.
Kagagagagak—!
The Cheongok stone screamed under the strike.
The sound resembled a saw grinding through material.
Not the sound of smashing.
The sound of cutting.
Kiiiiiiing…!
The diagonally sliced boulder slowly slid apart and collapsed.
"…!"
Seeing that sight, Dunkel was struck speechless.
The secret art of the Duke of Leinrant—the Meteor Sword.
Even Delline, praised as a genius of the century, had required years to perfect it.
And yet Klein—
The abandoned prince deemed talentless—
Had perfectly reproduced the secret art after seeing it only once.
Thud.
The severed upper half of the Cheongok crashed onto the ground.
What had just happened?
What exactly had he done?
Unable to find words, Dunkel stared blankly at Klein.
"Young… Master?"
Klein had reproduced the Duke of Leinrant's secret art using nothing but a wooden sword.
Looking at the result of his strike, he muttered in disbelief.
"What the hell… it actually worked?"