I held the sword in my hand, and an unfamiliar sensation surged through me—an unspoken resonance that told me, without a shred of doubt, that I was its new master.
The sword was neither heavy nor light—it was the embodiment of perfection. I never knew a weapon could feel so different to hold, despite having swung blades for at least fifty years in my past life.
Its scabbard was a flawless white, not a single speck of dust marring its surface. Strange, elegant curves were etched into it in an unknown language, and the handle, crafted for a single hand, fit mine as if it had always been waiting for me.
"What's its name?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the blade.
"This sword is known as Enkris," he said, his tone carrying a rare weight. "It once belonged to the first Sword Saint. Later, it was retrieved by our fifth patriarch from an inheritance the saint left behind."
He spoke with care, as though recounting something sacred.
"Although we do not know the exact requirements for wielding it, the truth reveals itself if you can draw it." His eyes locked on mine, urging me silently.
"Alright."
I gripped the sword's handle—firm, unyielding, as though it had been waiting for me all along—and drew it from its sheath.
Shrieeeek.
With a crisp, almost ethereal sound, the blade slid free. My breath caught.
It was pitch black—like the abyss itself—contrasting sharply with the pristine white of its scabbard and handle. And yet, the contrast was not jarring; it was perfection. The sword was so striking that I forgot to breathe.
"Beautiful…" Vitra murmured, mouth slightly agape.
He wasn't wrong. It was so exquisite that calling it a ceremonial sword would have been an understatement.
"So, what's the requirement?" Vitra asked, curiosity flickering in his gaze.
I hesitated, then spoke honestly. "I don't know. It just… attracted me."
"Hmm." He studied me for a moment. "Usually, one realizes the requirement the moment they draw it. But in some cases, it's different. Take it. You might understand in time—and when you do, use it well."
"Yes, I will," I replied firmly.
"Now that you've obtained an incredible sword, what about learning a swordsmanship style that suits it?" he proposed.
"Hm? Swordsmanship?" I tilted my head slightly, unsure what he meant.
"Yes," he nodded. "Our family possesses many swordsmanship manuals…" He paused mid-sentence, his expression shifting as if a sudden thought struck him. "Wait—come with me."
Without further explanation, he turned and began walking, expecting me to follow.
I followed him, my steps echoing faintly as I tried to absorb every detail I could of House Kael's treasury. The air was cool and still, carrying a faint scent of old wood and polished metal. Rows of shelves, display stands, and locked cases lined the space, each holding relics, artifacts, and weapons—each one a fragment of the family's long, storied history.
"Hm? Here."
Walking ahead, he stopped in front of a tall bookshelf and began scanning its rows with a practiced eye. His fingers brushed over the spines until, after a short search, he pulled out two books and handed them to me.
The first was a swordsmanship manual titled Abyss Grace, and the second a footwork manual called Moonveil.
"The swordsmanship I'm giving you is very advanced," he said, his tone serious. "If mastered, it can help you reach up to True Severance." He paused for emphasis, then continued, "It contains sixteen forms, each one more profound than the last. If you master them all, there will be very few in the world who could rival you in terms of swordsmanship."
I hummed softly, flipping the book open slightly while listening to his explanation.
"The second book is about footwork," he went on. "It's the best our house possesses. In terms of usability, it rivals Mistfoot itself." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Moonveil was chosen for you because it pairs perfectly with Abyss Grace."
"Thank you," I said, giving a slight bow in gratitude for the books.
"Uh… um… you're welcome," he replied, his eyebrows twitching faintly as if unused to such formal thanks.
"Then, I'll take my leave." I secured Enkris at my waist and held the two manuals firmly in my hands.
"Oh, you can go," he said with a small nod.
Heeding his words, I turned and stepped out of the room—the one connected by a spatial passage to the audience chamber.
"Oh? You've gotten a sword?" Robwin greeted me with a warm smile as I entered.
I nodded in confirmation, offering no further explanation, and continued on my way out of the chamber.
"See you next time," he waved as I left the audience chamber.
I gave him a brief nod without breaking stride. My mind was still tangled in the sensation of Enkris at my side—the quiet hum of its presence, as though it was listening to my thoughts.
The corridors of House Kael stretched ahead, lined with tall windows where moonlight bled into shadows. Each step felt heavier, not from fatigue, but from the weight of possibilities the sword now represented.
I didn't yet know why it had chosen me, or what its true requirement was. But one thing was certain—Enkris had not appeared in my life without reason.
And sooner or later, that reason would demand an answer.
******
Vitra emerged from the passage with a faint smile on his face. Instead of leaving the audience chamber, he climbed the steps to the platform and settled onto the throne.
"You look pleased, my lord," Robwin said as he approached, returning the smile.
"Is that so?" Vitra asked with mild curiosity.
"Yes, my lord. Did something good happen in the treasury?" Robwin inquired politely.
"Hmm?" Vitra leaned back slightly. "You know, Robwin… sometimes I think Vern isn't quite the person we believe him to be."
"What do you mean, my lord?" Robwin tilted his head in confusion.
"I mean… I feel he's different, but I can't explain it in words," Vitra said, recalling the moment his second son—who rarely spoke to him—had thanked him. It had been sincere. For a brief moment, even those lifeless eyes had shown a faint glimmer of appreciation, something he hadn't seen since the boy's mother passed away.
"You know, Robwin… sometimes I think the reason he hides behind those cold eyes is to shield himself from the pain of losing her." Vitra let out a deep sigh.
"I think the same," Robwin replied. "He changed right after his mother died. He stopped speaking to others altogether."
"He hates me," Vitra murmured, "because when Alice died, I wasn't here. I couldn't bring a stronger healer to cure her illness." Another sigh escaped him. "I wish I had been."
"By the way, what was it that the young master was carrying?" Robwin asked, shifting the topic as Vitra's regret was becoming more evident.
"It was the sword of the first Sword Saint in history—Enkris," Vitra revealed with a broad smile.
"Enkris? Isn't that the sword that hasn't been wielded since the first Sword Saint disappeared?" Robwin asked curiously.
"Yes, it is. And Vern drew it effortlessly. Perhaps he meets the sword's requirements," Vitra said, pride creeping into his tone.
"Perhaps, now that he possesses a high-grade mana core, he could become the next patriarch,"
"That is certainly a possibility," Robwin replied with a firm nod.
"But, my lord… everything aside, have you spoken to him about the matter regarding House Draken?" Robwin asked. They had recently received a letter from the Draken patriarch.
"Hmm… now that you mention it, it's strange," Vitra replied, his voice lowering slightly. "That madman—who would do anything for his daughter—seems unusually patient in wanting to discuss this matter. The current patriarch has five sons, but only one daughter, and he treasures her above all. If this is mishandled, it could turn into a disaster."
"Robwin."
"Yes, my lord?" he responded.
"Do you think we should send Vern out of the house for further growth? Perhaps to an educational institution?" Vitra asked, clearly weighing the idea.
"That's… something worth considering, my lord. If he were to receive proper education—history, governance, strategy—it could broaden his knowledge greatly," Robwin replied thoughtfully.
"I should give this matter serious thought," Vitra murmured.
"And I'll tell him to send his daughter to the same institute Vern will attend. That way, I can finally get some relief from his constant pestering," Vitra muttered.
Robwin chuckled quietly at the remark, but he could see the thoughtful glint still lingering in his lord's eyes. For all his casual words, Vitra was already turning the matter over in his mind, weighing possibilities, risks, and gains.
Through the tall windows, Vitra caught sight of Vern walking across the courtyard, the moonlight glinting faintly off Enkris at his side. His gaze lingered on the boy until he finally leaned back, resting one arm on the throne's armrest.
"Yes," he murmured under his breath, deep emotion flickering in his eyes. "It's time for things to change."
The candlelight flickered, and the room settled back into stillness.