Chapter 4: Magic

Martte, sensing danger, gulped hard without even realizing it.

Though his current body was that of a young child, Karyl MacGovern had once ascended to the realm of a Swordmaster without any magical powers, his sword sweeping through countless battles.

In his quest to reverse time within the tower, he had climbed endlessly—a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, ten million, a hundred million, a billion times. As Karyl climbed, the sheer number of times he ascended the tower's floors ceased to matter.

He had climbed with only a vague, instinctual understanding that each step upward somehow would take him further back in time. Yet, as he climbed further the number of monsters he faced on each floor seemed to increase tenfold, no, a hundredfold. That was what he had been through.

Martte lunged forward with his sword tightly grasped in both hands and swung at Karyl with all his might. The blade sliced through the air, its crash echoing loudly across the training yard.

Two feints, then a slash. The fourth is a counter, and the final move is the real attack, Karyl

thought. His posture was flawless, as if he was a figure straight out of a textbook.

Precise and neat,

Karyl mused.

However, unbeknownst to Martte, this pursuit of perfection had unwittingly fostered habits within him. Flames danced along his blade, casting an almost rhythmic glow.

Watching Martte's swordplay, which resembled a dance, left the onlookers speechless.

I've never seen my brother go all out like this before.

It's over.

Yet, Martte's expression was anything but triumphant. Despite the intense heat emanating from his flaming blade, Karyl appeared unafraid, closing the distance between them.

One, two, three... Now!

Karyl strategized internally, exploiting Martte's habit of pivoting on the ball of his foot

That will weaken his center of balance.

Dodging Martte's sword, Karyl bent at the waist and sank down as though collapsing onto his knees, then lightly struck Martte's supporting leg with his blade. The moment Martte staggered to avoid the attack, he realized he had made a mistake. Karyl's fist struck his throat.

Oh, no...!

Martte gasped.

His sword clattered to the ground as he fell in a daze. The duel concluded so easily that it was almost laughable. As if he had foreseen this outcome, Karyl remained silent.

"You barbarian bastard! Using such dirty tricks!" Elliot shouted, anger contorting his face.

"Stop it, Elliot." Martte sternly addressed Elliot.

"But..." Elliot's voice trailed off, his confusion evident.

Karyl, observing Martte's bewildered expression, calmly sheathed his sword. The siblings looked on in astonishment.

My brother...

‘Lost?

I don’t know how they will think about this, Karyl mused.

This turn of events

could potentially lead to misunderstandings. After all, Karyl was merely a barbarian who had suddenly appeared and drawn his sword.

I came here with a purpose,

Karyl thought, his eyes fixed on Martte.

You'll realize why you lost and what you lack. Even the instructor wouldn’t have noticed it. The fact that excessive training actually fosters bad habits.

Karyl knew it was better for this realization to dawn sooner rather than later.

It was crucial for Martte to understand his defeat and shortcomings at this very moment. That way, the situation could be simply perceived as a mere incident caused by the arrogant barbarian boy.

But if left unaddressed with time... You won't be able to protect your family. No, not even yourself.

The pressure of being the eldest, and the resulting drive to grow stronger, had ironically been his downfall.

But it's a waste to leave your talent as it is. You have the blood of Kuwell, especially in swordsmanship.

Karyl knew Martte could become stronger.

Though the act of assisting his greatest rival for the position of the Count's successor seemed counterintuitive, Karyl had a more important goal in mind.

I need him.

"I learned a lot from this," said Martte, extending his hand toward Karyl.

Karyl pondered,

It's up to you whether to remain petty or become one of my allies. But, if you ever become an obstacle, I'll show no mercy.

At

that moment, Karyl's gaze sharpened.

"That's enough," a voice interrupted abruptly.

It was Kuwell, who made an unexpected entrance, causing everyone to hurriedly rise and bow their heads.

"F-Father."

"While it's good to train late into the night, it has gotten too late. Everyone should return to their rooms," Kuwell stated calmly, with a hint of sternness in his voice.

The children promptly left the training yard.

"Karyl, stay behind," Kuwell said evenly. Despite his calm demeanor, his voice carried a slight edge of irritation.

Ruben cast a worried glance at Karyl before following the others out of the yard.

"Why did you do this?" Kuwell asked, his tone measured but probing.

"I don't understand what you mean, sir," Karyl responded.

Kuwell let out a deep sigh, his demeanor burdened by the weight of leadership. "I must soon leave for the royal palace. That will leave you here alone."

"I will not tell you to get along well with the others. However, I do hope you don't go out of your way to cause problems. If you do, it will only make things harder for you." Kuwell advised.

Karyl met his gaze steadily. In his past life, Kuwell had said the same thing.

But back then, I only rebelled more against my brothers because of those words.

He had resented everything—be it the destruction of his own people or Kuwell's seemingly hypocritical care.

Back then, I didn't know about our tribe's relationship with him.

Karyl now realized that what Kuwell had said was sincere.

"You should probably refrain from using a sword for a while. Do you have any other interests?" Kuwell inquired, not expecting much of a response.

To the people of the Black Eyes tribe, the sword was a part of their essence. However, contrary to Kuwell's expectations, Karyl nodded affirmatively.

"Really? What is it then? Tell me," Kuwell asked, surprised.

"I want to study magic," Karyl stated calmly, as if he had been waiting for this very moment to express his desire.

Kuwell looked at him in silence, his expression a mix of contemplation and disbelief, as if thinking,

That's an impossible ambition.

***

While everyone else had fallen asleep, the training yard remained lit, a beacon shining in the dark night sky.

Breaking the silence, Kuwell spoke, "It's been a while since I've crossed swords with you."

"Indeed, but it seems you've brought quite the problem this time," replied Paulhendt.

Kuwell, who had returned from the frontlines after half a year, chuckled bitterly as he sharpened his sword. Instead of finding peace upon his return, he was met with an atmosphere thick with tension. Knowing he was the cause of this tension, Kuwell chuckled again.

The clash of swords reverberated throughout the yard.

The person skillfully countering Kuwell’s moves was Paulhendt, the former vice-captain of the Blue Knights led by Kuwell and the swordsmanship instructor of the MacGovern family.

He knew why Kuwell had called him. He was an aged, retired knight, but his experience wasn’t just for show.

“It won't be easy,” he said bluntly.

But what he really wanted to say was... Send him back

immediately

.

"Do you see it that way too?" Kuwell asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"Yes," Paulhendt replied firmly.

Although he had intended to be more diplomatic, his concern was apparent.

Kuwell’s interest was piqued.

"The servants are already talking about Martte's duel. My lady will hear of it by tomorrow,"Paulhendt stated.

"I suppose so." Kuwell acknowledged.

"Is he oblivious, or simply audacious?" Paulhendt wondered, not referring to Karyl’s rudeness but to the inherent danger his presence posed. “I'm worried that my lady will kick up a huge fuss. You know how fond she is of Martte, her eldest son.”

"That’s not the main concern. Tell me what I need to hear," Kuwell urged, encouraging further discussion.

"Karyl is young, yet he is naturally gifted with the physique and movements unique to his tribe... Whether innate or trained, he's undoubtedly a child of the Black Eyes tribe," Paulhendt admitted.

"I thought as much," Kuwell nodded in agreement.

"To be honest, his natural aptitude surprised me. It’s as if he was born to wield the sword. We should be thankful that his tribe lacks magical power." Paulhendt remarked thoughtfully. As he spoke of Karyl, his initial hesitation transformed into growing excitement. "If he had been born an Imperial with magical abilities..."

"He would have surpassed even my own records," Kuwell interjected, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Paulhendt, who had observed Kuwell since his youth and knew him as the Empire's Youngest Swordmaster, couldn't help but agree.

"However, the true challenge lies in his heart," Kuwell continued thoughtfully.

"Sadly, he's unaware of your relationship with the chief of Black Eyes, Karliak." Paulhendt mused aloud.

"That's right." Kuwell confirmed, his expression turning somber.

"He probably views everyone here as potential enemies. And even if he knew the truth... would it bring him any comfort?" Paulhendt questioned.

Recalling the chief he had slain with his own hands, Kuwell said softly, "Had he been born in our empire, he would have been a formidable ally. Such a regrettable loss of talent.”

"The Emperor would surely be enraged if he discovered we're harboring a child from an enemy tribe. That's outright insubordination," Paulhendt pointed out, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

"We'll have to keep this a secret for now," Kuwell stated firmly.

"You can't hide the brilliance of the gifted,” Paulhendt remarked.

"By the way," Kuwell said in a low voice, "Karyl wants to study magic."

"Pardon?" Paulhendt responded, taken aback. His earlier enthusiasm faded into concern.

"You can't be serious, right?"