A total of sixteen children were participating in this year's Sword Tomb Ceremony. Among them were Oswell Linegrim's third son, Seron, from the main family line, and Philip Linegrim's eldest son, Andrei. From the branch families, there was Heinz Linegrim's second daughter, Mayrin…"
The middle-aged man shouting with fervor was Oswell, the second son of Daemon Linegrim. Due to the chronic illness of his elder brother, Gail, who rarely appeared in public, Oswell had taken on the responsibility of managing the major and minor affairs of the Linegrim Sword Duchy.
"…and finally, from the vassal family, Edin Marquis's eldest daughter, Selena, and Cabel's eldest son, Ruin."
Having finished introducing the sixteen children by calling out Ruin's name last, Oswell turned his gaze.
"From this moment on, you will enter the Sword Tomb of the main house. There, you will choose your sword."
His stern tone caused the children's faces to stiffen with tension.
Ruin's expression, however, remained unchanged.
In fact…
'Those guys, huh?'
His eyes were fixed on the children who had insulted his parents earlier.
'The moment we enter the Sword Tomb, I'll teach them a proper lesson.'
Even in his past life as Number 1872, Ruin had always excelled at one thing: discipline. Having already assessed their abilities through his Thousand Seamless Forms technique, he concluded:
'They've achieved quite a bit for their age, but they're still far from enough.'
Most of the children selected for this event came from notable parents or prestigious backgrounds, so it was likely they had been trained systematically and nourished with various elixirs from a young age.
But none of them gave off an aura that Ruin found remotely threatening.
Still, among the fifteen other children, three stood out.
'Seron, was it?'
The second son of the current head of the family and the youngest son of Oswell Linegrim, the Blue Fox and leader of the Heavenly Hall. Despite being only ten years old, Seron already possessed an inner energy far purer than one would expect for his age.
'A prodigy, perhaps?'
Since Seron wasn't part of the group that insulted his parents, Ruin decided he wasn't worth his attention and quickly lost interest.
The second was that blonde girl over there…
'Huh?'
Suddenly, Ruin's eyes met hers.
'What's with her staring at me all of a sudden?'
Caught off guard by the unexpected eye contact, Ruin missed the chance to look away naturally.
Damn it.
Now, looking away abruptly would seem odd, so the two ended up staring at each other.
"…"
The girl with striking golden hair was clearly destined to break many hearts in the future with her beauty. After staring at Ruin for a while, she quietly mouthed something toward him.
'What are you looking at?'
In response, Ruin gave a slight shrug, and she let out a soft chuckle, as if finding his reaction absurd, before turning her head away.
'She's Mayrin, right?'
And finally…
'Selena Marquis?'
A girl with pale blue hair and an expressionless face.
Having identified the three most talented and promising individuals among the fifteen children, excluding himself, Ruin turned his attention back to Oswell's words.
"Exactly ten minutes from now, you will take the portal to the Sword Tomb from this spot. Finish your final preparations and gather here again."
"Yes, sir!"
"Got it!"
The children, who hadn't yet undergone unified training, responded in their own loud voices.
The adults watching them wore faint smiles.
But…
'You lot, I'll deal with you later, so just wait.'
For now, Ruin knew his strength was too weak to confront the master-level swordsmen of the Linegrim family. But once he mastered the Thousand Seamless Forms and learned Daemon's martial arts, he swore he'd give a good kick to the backsides of those who insulted his parents.
Soon, the children began dispersing—some to see their parents, others to use the restroom, or to mutter incantations to themselves.
At that moment…
Ziiing.
'Hm?'
An unidentified energy was detected attempting to probe the user's information.
The Thousand Seamless Forms resists the intrusion.
Failed.
Failed.
Success.
The intrusion was successfully blocked, and the information was sealed.
Ruin tilted his head at the sudden sound ringing in his ears.
'What was that?'
While he stood there, puzzled, he noticed the Northern Sword Duke, Daemon, slowly rising from his seat and heading somewhere.
"Freon, follow me."
Freon, the leader of the Snow Tiger Corps who had personally escorted Ruin Linegrim to the head's hall, bowed respectfully at Daemon Linegrim's command and followed him.
They entered Daemon's office behind the head's hall. Daemon took his usual seat and gestured to Freon.
"What are you standing there for? Sit."
"Yes, sir."
At his command, Freon cautiously sat on the sofa opposite him. Daemon then turned to Joel, his ever-present aide.
"Joel, did you check?"
"Yes, my lord. Upon inspection, there were no traces of martial arts training or accumulated mana."
"And the color?"
"…My apologies, but it was purple."
Joel bowed respectfully, reporting the results of the task assigned to him earlier. Daemon nodded briefly, reaching for his glass and pouring a strong drink.
Glug glug.
"Freon, care for a drink?"
"No, thank you, sir."
"Really? This is some fine stuff—Spled 43-year-old vintage."
Gulp gulp.
After downing the drink in one go and roughly wiping his mouth, Daemon turned to Freon.
"So, tell me. What was it about that boy that shook you up so much?"
"I'm not sure what you mean…"
"The cold and ruthless leader of the Snow Tiger Corps personally escorted Cabel's son to the head's hall. How long do you think it'll take for that story to spread across Banafen?"
"…"
Freon was at a loss for words at Daemon's question.
His role had been to escort the boy only to the entrance of the main hall. Yet, he had gone further, bringing Ruin all the way to the head's hall because…
'I just wanted to know more about what kind of kid he is.'
The impression Ruin had left when they first met was still etched in Freon's mind.
He was curious about how the boy would act and what he would say upon entering the head's hall.
And indeed, despite the barrage of criticism and negativity that greeted him, Ruin had acted utterly unfazed.
As if he had anticipated everything.
At that moment, Daemon's voice broke through again.
"You look deep in thought. Shall I offer again—care for a drink?"
"No, I'm fine, truly."
Freon replied curtly, then, with a serious expression, murmured softly.
"My apologies for speaking out of turn, but that boy… he's different from other children."
"Different? How so?"
"It's as if he predicted this entire situation. When I visited Young Master Cabel's home…"
Freon proceeded to lay out every detail of the unease and questions he felt, sharing them openly with Daemon, the Northern Sword Duke, and Joel, his aide.
"…Even in the face of everyone's scorn in the head's hall, his expression didn't change at all. That's when I was certain. He's no ordinary child."
As Freon concluded, Daemon swirled his glass and nodded.
"I see. Joel, what's your take?"
"It seems Ruin is quite a clever boy."
"Clever?"
"Well, there'd be no reason for the esteemed leader of the Snow Tiger Corps to say such things otherwise, would there?"
Joel replied with a faint smile, prompting a hearty laugh from Daemon.
"Haha, fair enough. But thinking about it, Cabel wasn't exactly the sharpest, was he? Could it be that Caphtalen's child is the bright one?"
"Lady Daisy was known for her sharp intellect and quick wit from a young age. Though, there were rumors that her temperament grew fiercer over time."
"So, you're saying Ruin takes after his mother?"
"I can't say for certain, as I've never met Lady Daisy myself."
Joel bowed apologetically, and Daemon muttered again.
"Then we'll just have to find out, won't we?"
"Yes, my lord. I shall obey your command."
Joel bowed again, responding swiftly.
"Hmm. No martial arts training, no accumulated mana, and a severe lack of talent. Yet, unusually mature and clever for his age?"
After summarizing what he'd heard, Daemon clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"He's going to attract a lot of hate."
The Linegrim family already held a deeply negative view of Cabel's son, who was seen as the child of a traitor who abandoned the family. It was only natural that they would shun and despise him.
If Ruin had inherited even a fraction of his father Cabel's exceptional martial talent, he might have been able to silence his critics with sheer skill and ability.
But according to Joel's findings, when viewed through the ancient artifact Talent Mirror, which measures martial potential, Ruin's color was purple.
Purple indicated either the lowest level of martial talent—or a level of talent so extraordinary that the artifact couldn't measure it.
Of course, only someone on the level of the Northern Sword Duke would register as the latter.
Since both Joel and Freon registered as red in the Talent Mirror…
'There's no way Ruin has the same level of talent as my lord.'
Naturally, everyone assumed Ruin's talent was at the lowest level.
Considering that most of the children in his cohort at the Sword Tomb Ceremony were red or orange, his prospects were grim.
In their eyes, Ruin's future looked bleak and dark.
"…"
"…"
A quiet silence settled over the room.
Knock knock.
A knock at the office door was followed by the voice of Oswell, the second son.
"My lord, it's time."
Clink!
At Oswell's call, Daemon set down his glass.
"Alright, let's go."
"Yes, my lord."
Joel, the aide, and Freon, the leader of the Snow Tiger Corps, followed him out.
Daemon placed a hand on the shoulder of his second son, Oswell, who was waiting for them, and murmured.
"Well then, shall we see which swords the children claim at this Sword Tomb Ceremony?"
Oswell nodded with a faint smile.
"You won't be disappointed, I'm sure. This cohort has some exceptional children."
"Haha, really? Or are you just saying that because your youngest, Seron, is participating?"
"Oh, come on, Father. When have I ever let personal feelings interfere with such matters?"
Daemon's playful question was met with a warm smile from Oswell, who addressed him affectionately as "Father."
"Alright, I'll look forward to it."
"Yes, my lord."
Of course, Oswell's confidence was indeed partly due to his youngest son, Seron.
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T/N:
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