ocation: The Greyrat Manor Time: Two Years Later (Age 9)
If unlocking Touki was like breaking down a door, mastering it was like trying to hold back a flood with a teaspoon.
For the last two years, my life had become a blur of pain, sweat, and the metallic taste of mana.
"Hold it!" Paul roared.
I stood in the center of the courtyard. I wasn't moving. I was vibrating.
My skin felt like it was on fire. A thin, invisible film of energy coated my body. To the naked eye, I looked like a nine-year-old boy straining to take a dump. To a swordsman, I was glowing with Battle Aura.
Control, I told myself. Don't let it leak. Cycle it. Heart to shoulder. Shoulder to arm. Arm to blade.
The wooden sword in my hand felt weightless. That was the first side effect of Touki—physical objects lost their tyranny over you. A ten-pound sword felt like a feather. A stone wall felt like styrofoam.
"Three minutes!" Paul called out, checking a sand timer on the porch. "New record."
I exhaled, releasing the aura.
Whoosh.
The heat dissipated. Instantly, the weight of the world crashed back down on me. My knees buckled, and I dropped to all fours, gasping for air.
"Pathetic," I wheezed, spit dripping onto the grass. "Three minutes... is nothing."
"Three minutes is incredible for a kid," Paul said, walking over and handing me a towel. He looked older. The last two years had put a few grey hairs in his beard, mostly caused by me and Rudeus. "Most Advanced-tier swordsmen can only hold full density for ten minutes during a fight. You're getting there."
I grabbed the towel and wiped my face.
"Advanced tier," I muttered, standing up on shaky legs. "I don't want to be Advanced. Advanced is the participation trophy of the Sword World."
Paul laughed, slapping my back hard enough to rattle my teeth. "You arrogant little brat. You haven't even beaten me yet, and you're talking down on the rankings?"
"Give me a year," I shot back, flashing him a tired grin. "I'll take your title, old man. Then I'm going to challenge the Sword God."
Paul's smile faltered for a second. He looked at me with that strange mix of pride and worry.
"Don't rush to meet Gal Farion, Sol. That man... he's not like us. He's a monster."
"Good," I said, sheathing my wooden sword. "I like monsters. They make for good trophies."
Location: The Shared Bedroom Time: Night
The rivalry with Rudeus had evolved. It was no longer about who could walk first or who could throw a block the furthest. It was a cold war of progress.
Rudeus was growing terrifyingly strong in magic. I could feel it. When he practiced in the study, the air pressure in the house dropped. He was learning languages, too—Demon God, Beast God, Fighting God. The kid was a walking library.
But physically?
"Ow," Rudeus whined.
I looked over from my bed. Rudeus was trying to do a pushup. He was trembling. His form was atrocious—back swayed, elbows flared out.
"You look like a dying fish," I commented, flipping a page in the bestiary I was reading.
Rudeus collapsed onto the rug. "It's impossible. My arms are jelly. How do you do thousands of these?"
"Because I hate being weak more than I hate pain," I said simply.
I stood up and walked over to him. I was taller than him now—only by an inch, but I made sure to stand up straight to maximize it. My shoulders were broader, dense with the muscle fiber I had cultivated. Rudeus was soft. Doughy.
"Get up," I commanded.
"I can't..."
"Get up, Rudy."
He groaned but pushed himself up to his knees.
"You have mana," I said, crouching down to look him in the eye. "More mana than anyone I've ever seen. But your body is a glass cannon. If I close the distance, you die. If an assassin shoots an arrow from the shadows, you die."
Rudeus looked down. "I know. That's why I'm trying."
"Don't try. Visualize."
I poked his chest.
"You use magic to make water and fire, right? Why can't you use it to reinforce your muscles? Why can't you make Touki?"
Rudeus frowned. "I've tried, Sol. Dad tried to teach me. The mana just... disperses. It won't stick to my skin. It's like trying to hold water in a sieve."
I narrowed my eyes. Strange.
My Touki stuck to me because my body demanded it. It was instinct. Rudeus was all intellect. He couldn't feel the "instinct."
"Fine," I said. "If you can't use Touki, then wear armor. Or stay behind me."
Rudeus looked up, surprised. "Behind you?"
I stood up and walked back to my bed, stretching my arms.
"Yeah. Until you figure out how not to die from a stiff breeze, I'll stand in front. I cut the arrows; you blow up the bad guys. Deal?"
Rudeus smiled. It was a genuine, relieved smile. "Deal."
"Good. Now do ten more pushups. If you don't, I'm telling Mom you were reading those dirty books in the library again."
"Sol! That's blackmail!"
"It's motivation. Move."
Location: The Village Outskirts Age: 9.5
"Faster, Sylph! My grandmother moves faster than that, and she's dead!"
We were in the clearing. It was raining—a light drizzle that made the ground slick and treacherous. Perfect training weather.
Sylphy was running laps around the big tree, carrying a medium-sized rock. The kid was panting, mud splattered across the tunic, green hair plastered to their forehead.
Sylphy had changed, too.
Under my "tutelage" (read: bullying with a purpose), Sylphy had stopped crying. The flinching was gone. The victim mentality was fading.
"I'm... trying!" Sylphy gasped.
"Don't talk! Breathing is for running!" I shouted from my perch on a high branch.
I jumped down, landing silently in the mud.
"Drop the rock," I ordered.
Sylphy dropped it with a heavy thud.
"Draw your weapon."
Sylphy pulled out a short wooden wand-knife hybrid I had whittled. It wasn't a sword. Sylphy wasn't built for swords. Sylphy was small, light, and had magic.
"Come at me," I said, opening my arms. "Use the wind."
Sylphy hesitated for a fraction of a second—old habits die hard—then moved.
Whoosh.
A blast of wind magic kicked up the mud, aiming for my eyes.
Smart, I thought, grinning. Blinding tactic.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head. I felt the air pressure shift. I sidestepped the wind blast.
But Sylphy was already moving. Using the wind to propel themselves, Sylphy dashed forward, aiming a thrust at my stomach.
It was fast. Much faster than a normal child.
Touki? I wondered. No. It's wind magic used for propulsion. Clever.
I didn't block it. I caught Sylphy's wrist.
Sylphy gasped.
"Good speed," I said calmly. "But you overcommitted. You're off balance."
I swept Sylphy's leg.
Sylphy hit the mud. But this time, there were no tears. Sylphy immediately rolled backward, springing into a crouch, wand raised.
I nodded approvingly.
"Excellent," I said. "You survived the first exchange. That puts you above 90% of the villagers."
Sylphy beamed, wiping mud off their cheek. "Really?"
"Don't let it go to your head," I scolded. "You still telegraph your attacks. And you smell like fear."
"I smell like mud!"
"Same thing. Again!"
As we trained, I sensed a presence.
I didn't look. I kept my eyes on Sylphy, but I shifted my awareness to the bushes about twenty meters to my left.
Paul, I identified. He's watching. Hiding his presence, but he stepped on a twig three minutes ago.
I smirked. Checking on my teaching methods, old man? Don't worry. I'm turning the rabbit into a wolf.
Location: The Study Time: One Month Later
The boredom was returning.
Buena Village was a cage. I had beaten Paul in a spar (once, by tripping him into a mud puddle, but a win is a win). I had explored every inch of the forest. I had bullied the local monsters.
I needed more.
I was sitting in the study, spinning a dagger on the table, when Paul walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual goofy grin. He was wearing his "Party Leader" face.
Zenith was with him. She looked sad.
"Sol, Rudeus," Paul said. "Sit down."
Rudeus sat down nervously. I leaned back in my chair, putting my feet on the table.
"Feet down," Zenith scolded gently.
I put my feet down. You don't mess with the healer.
"We have a problem," Paul started. "We have no money for your tuition."
Rudeus looked confused. "Tuition?"
"We want to send you both to get educated," Paul explained. "Rudy needs a magic university. Sol... well, Sol needs a place that won't arrest him for fighting."
"I have never been arrested," I interjected. "Detained, maybe. Never arrested."
"The point is," Paul continued, ignoring me. "I have a job for you. A way to make money and get experience."
He placed a letter on the table. It had a wax seal. A crest I didn't recognize, but it looked expensive. A beast skull and a sword.
"The Boreas Greyrat family in Roa," Paul said. "They are looking for a tutor for their daughter. And a bodyguard."
My ears perked up.
Roa. The capital of the region. Big city. Strong people. Criminals. Duelists.
"Who goes?" I asked.
"Rudy is going as the tutor," Paul said. "He's going to teach magic."
I snorted. "Rudy? Teaching? He's going to teach her how to steal panties."
"Hey!" Rudeus squeaked.
"And Sol," Paul looked at me. "I'm sending you as the guard. Technically, the job listing didn't ask for two people. But I pulled some strings. I told Philip Boreas that if he hires the Mage, he gets the Swordsman for free."
Free? I raised an eyebrow.
"I am not a bonus item," I said coldly. "I am the main event."
"You're a nine-year-old with an attitude problem," Paul corrected. "This is your chance, Sol. Ghislaine Dedoldia is there."
The world stopped.
Ghislaine.
The name hit me like a physical blow. The Sword King. The Beast Woman from Paul's stories. The woman who mastered the Longsword of Light.
My arrogance vanished. My boredom evaporated.
I stood up.
"When do we leave?" I asked.
Paul grinned. "Tomorrow. But there's a catch."
"What catch?" Rudeus asked.
"You aren't walking there," Paul said. "You're getting knocked out and shipped there like cargo. It's... complicated. Family politics."
I looked at Paul. I looked at his hands. He was tensed. He was ready to strike.
Oh, I realized. This is the test.
"You intend to knock us out?" I asked, my hand drifting to my wooden sword hilt.
"Sorry, kids," Paul said. "Ghislaine is waiting to pick you up, but she's... impatient."
Rudeus looked panicked. "Wait, Dad, let's talk about—"
WHAM.
Paul moved. He struck Rudeus in the neck with a chop. Rudeus folded like a lawn chair.
I didn't wait.
The moment Paul's muscle twitched, I exploded.
Touki: Full Output.
I flipped the table, sending it crashing into Paul's legs. I dove backward, drawing my wooden sword mid-air.
"Not today, old man!" I shouted.
Paul swatted the table aside like it was made of cardboard. He was smiling. A feral, happy smile.
"That's it, Sol! Fight me!"
He lunged.
I parried.
CLACK.
The impact numb my arm, but I didn't buckle. I used the momentum to spin, aiming a kick at his head.
Paul blocked the kick with his forearm.
"Good density!" Paul praised. "But you're still open!"
He swept my leg.
I saw it coming. I jumped over the sweep.
I landed on his shoulders.
For a split second, I was perched on my father's shoulders like a gargoyle. I raised my sword to strike his head.
"Gotcha," I whispered.
But Paul was an S-Rank adventurer.
He didn't panic. He just grabbed my ankle and slammed me into the floor.
CRASH.
The wind left my body. The floorboards cracked.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, gasping for air. My Touki flickered and died.
Paul loomed over me.
"Nice try," he said, panting slightly. "You actually made me use two hands."
"I... almost... had you," I wheezed.
"Almost," Paul agreed.
Then, he chopped my neck.
Darkness took me.
Location: A Moving Carriage Time: Unknown
I woke up to the sound of wheels rattling on cobblestone.
My neck hurt. My back hurt. My pride hurt.
I sat up. I was in a carriage. It was fancy—velvet seats, gold trim.
Rudeus was slumped next to me, drooling on the upholstery.
"You're awake."
The voice came from the opposite seat. It was deep. Husky. A voice that sounded like gravel and honey.
I looked up.
Sitting across from us was a woman.
She was dark-skinned. Muscular. She wore leather armor that barely contained her physique. She had wolf ears and a tail that twitched rhythmically. An eyepatch covered one eye. A massive sword rested against her knee.
Ghislaine Dedoldia.
She was looking at me with her one good eye. Her pupil was a vertical slit. A predator.
My heart didn't race with fear. It raced with something else. Adrenaline. Respect. Attraction.
Finally, I thought, a grin spreading across my face despite the pain in my neck. A real warrior.
I didn't cower. I didn't look away. I leaned back in my seat, crossed my arms, and met her gaze.
"So," I said, my voice raspy. "You're the Sword King."
Ghislaine's ear twitched. She looked surprised by my tone. Most kids cried. I was sizing her up.
"And you are Paul's son," she said. "You smell like him. Arrogant. And..."
She sniffed the air.
"And you smell like blood and iron."
She leaned forward, her face inches from mine.
"Paul told me you blocked his strike. Is that true, pup?"
I didn't flinch. I looked right into that golden eye.
"I didn't just block it," I lied smoothly, flashing a cocky grin. "I almost took his head off. He got lucky."
Ghislaine stared at me for a long, tense second.
Then, she sat back and let out a short, sharp bark of laughter.
"Good," she said. "I hate weaklings. Welcome to Roa, Sol Greyrat. Try not to die."
I looked out the window. The massive walls of the city were looming ahead.
Die? I thought. No.
I'm just getting started.