Siegfried Fors
The arena air crackled with anticipation. Captain Tavian stood at one end, his stance firm, his sword faintly aglow with mana. Opposite him was a man I hadn't seen before, tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired, his red eyes sharp beneath the dust clinging to him. A pale blue shimmer surrounded his blade, the air around it humming softly.
The black-haired man moved first. His sword sliced through the air in a clean arc, fast enough to make the air whistle.
Captain Tavian stepped to the side, deflecting the strike with a sharp clang that echoed through the arena. Sparks danced where their blades met.
The man didn't stop, he pressed in, swinging again, this time lower and faster. Tavian blocked it, the force pushing him back half a step. The ground under their feet cracked faintly, dust lifting in the air.
With a twist of his wrist, Tavian redirected the next blow, forcing the man's momentum off balance. But instead of retreating, the man pushed in closer, slashing upward. The strike grazed Tavian's coat, nearly cutting through.
Their blades clashed again and again, each impact ringing like steel bells. The air between them shimmered with faint mana pressure, heat and wind mixing with the rhythm of their strikes.
The black-haired man ducked low, spinning with surprising agility for his size, and tried to sweep Tavian's legs. Tavian jumped back, boots landing steady. His eyes narrowed, his grip on the sword shifting slightly.
Then he attacked.
Tavian's blade flashed once, twice—clean, direct, merciless. The first strike forced the man to parry. The second came immediately after, faster than he could react. Their swords met, but Tavian's strength pushed through, sliding down the edge and slamming into the guard.
The man staggered back, gritting his teeth, his sword trembling under the weight. He tried to retaliate, but Tavian stepped in again, a precise slash aiming for his shoulder. The man barely blocked it, mana sparks flaring in his face.
Tavian's next move came before the sound faded. A sharp twist, a downward strike, and then a clean upward slash, so fast that the man didn't have time to brace.
His sword flew from his hand, spinning into the air before landing with a dull clang several feet away.
Tavian immediately brought his sword tip to rest right beneath the man's chin, the faint mana glow now unwavering. The fight was over.
For a moment, the arena fell silent. Only the faint sound of labored breathing lingered in the air before a wave of cheers rippled through the audience.
The black-haired man stood motionless, chest rising and falling, sweat tracing down his jaw. His expression was one of a frustration, the look of someone who knew exactly where he went wrong.
Captain Tavian lowered his sword, the faint glow along its edge fading into nothing. "Good effort," he said evenly. "But you left yourself too open on the third exchange."
The man gave a short nod, still catching his breath. "Understood, Captain."
"Wow… they're amazing," I said, unable to keep the awe from my voice.
Ashar chuckled softly beside me. "Indeed, they are. Both of them are among the finest swordsmen I have ever known."
My eyes lingered on the black-haired man. "By the way, who is he?"
Aifa leaned in closer, a faint smile on her lips. "Do you not recall, young lord? He accompanied us to Borg Barony and was present during the encounter with the armored magic beast in the forest. When we arrived, he was the one restraining the creature, holding the chain wrapped around its left arm."
Ah. So he was that knight. The one who never took off his helmet.
"But I don't remember Granny or the others mentioning him," I said, frowning slightly.
Aifa's tone dimmed. "After I ran with you, the armored beast severed his right arm—"
"What?" My gaze snapped back to the man. His right arm looked perfectly fine, fingers flexing as he sheathed his sword. I looked back at Ashar, completely lost.
Ashar's expression softened into a small smile. "Captain Tavian ordered him to retreat after that. Father Kaelen reattached his arm later."
Looks like Kaelen did more work than I thought.
I turned slightly toward Ashar, about to ask the name of the black-haired man, but before I could speak, a voice called from across the arena.
"Ashar! Aifa!"
Both of them turned. Captain Tavian and the black-haired man were walking toward us, their steps steady and composed despite the sparring they had just finished.
Captain Tavian's sharp eyes landed on us. "What are you all doing here?"
Ashar straightened a little. "We were escorting the young lord back home, Captain."
Aifa nodded in agreement and briefly explained how they had accompanied me after our meeting at the church.
Tavian listened quietly, then exhaled through his nose. "That was my oversight," he said finally, his tone respectful but firm. "I didn't anticipate the young lord would leave the manor before his evaluation ritual. My apologies for the lapse."
"It's fine," I said quickly, waving my hand a little. "Nothing happened anyway."
Still, a faint weight lingered in the air. Everyone seemed to worry too much, but I couldn't really blame them, not after what happened two years ago.
My gaze shifted toward the man beside Tavian. "So… who is he?"
The black-haired man stepped forward and went down on one knee, his movements precise and disciplined. "Forgive me for the late introduction, my lord. My name is Blake."
I nodded, feeling a faint smile tug at my lips. "Your swordsmanship was incredible. Both of you."
"I still have a lot to learn," Blake replied quietly, his tone flat but not cold, just honest.
"If you don't mind me asking, what was that spell you used on your swords? It looked different from normal mana reinforcement."
Tavian stepped in before Blake could answer. "Indeed, as the young lord observed, that was not mana reinforcement. It is called Sword Aura."
"Sword aura?" I repeated, curiosity sparking.
Ashar smiled faintly. "It's a technique only those with the talent of a Swordmaster can use."
"By talent, do you mean Arcana?"
"Yes," Aifa said, leaning in with mild surprise. "I am surprised you know about it, young lord."
"I read about it in the library," I replied, recalling the passage clearly. "Arcana are extraordinary phenomena etched into the essence of an individual upon awakening. Each Arcana manifests as an instinctive, inscribed phenomenon that performs supernatural effects, called powers… powers born of one's soul."
If I remember correctly Arcana are further divided into: Supernatural Arcana and Martial Arcana
Tavian's expression shifted, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "Then… would you wish to give it a try, young lord?"
"Eh? Me?" I pointed to myself, startled. "There's no way I can use such a technique. I'm just a beginner with the sword."
Tavian's tone remained calm, almost encouraging. "Sword Arcana falls under the category of Martial Arcana, and Martial Arcana can be inherited from parent to child. There is a chance the young lord may possess a talent for the sword."
I knew what he meant. But the problem was the "parent" part. I had never seen anyone in the Fors family use a sword, especially Mother. She didn't have half the finesse these guys had when wielding a sword. There was no way this kind of inheritance applied here, unless...
"Okay. Let's try."
Tavian nodded with approval. "Alright. Blake, you'll assist. Ashar, Aifa, you may return."
Aifa lowered her head slightly. "If I may, I would like to remain and witness the young lord's capabilities for myself."
Ashar inclined his head in quiet agreement. "I share the same sentiment."
And so, we made our way back to the training field.
Tavian unsheathed his sword again, its edge catching the sun's glow. "Now," he began, his voice steady, "I will give a brief explanation about the Sword Arcana."
He explained that a person gains Sword Arcana when they begin learning the sword. As the wielder's understanding deepens, their power grows, allowing them to advance through various stages. Each stage is a direct reflection of their bond and mastery with the sword; the Arcana progresses through stages such as: Nascent, Especial, Exalted, Blood, Prime, and Sovereign and so on.
Swordling(Nascent): The novice just beginning to grasp the way of the sword.
Sword Acolyte(Especial): One who studies the sword as an art.
Sword Veteran(Exalted): A seasoned fighter, tempered by battle.
True Swordsman(Blood): One who understands the sword itself.
Swordmaster(Prime): A wielder who commands the sword's every movement.
Sword Saint(Sovereign): A legend. Their swordplay transcends technique, guided by will and intuition.
He rattled through the explanation of each stage in a quick, almost erratic way. The sheer speed and intensity of his lesson reminded me sharply of how Zayn used to teach me when I first started training.
"So I should be a Swordling, right?"
Tavian shook his head slowly from side to side. "Like I explained before, talent is passed from the parent. So there's a chance the talent—the Arcana—the young lord inherited is of higher grade."
He sounded oddly certain about it, his conviction carrying the same quiet stubbornness Zayn used to have. That same unwavering belief that I had potential, even when I could barely land a hit. Still… until they knew who my other parent was, how could they be so sure?
Should I ask them?
No. If I did, they would probably just grow distant or change the subject. I liked being around Ashar and Aifa too much to risk that. And besides, there is no way I inherited some sword-related Arcana from my other parent. I was terrible with the sword anyway.
"Just to be clear," I said, raising my hands slightly, "I'm really bad with swords. According to my teacher, Zayn, he always said I 'suck at it' and needed to work harder. I could barely dodge his attacks, and most of the time, I got sent flying."
As the words left my mouth, Tavian's eyes widened.
"Were you truly able to evade Sir Zayn's strikes, young lord?"
Huh? He already knows who Zayn is?
"Yeah. Barely—"
"Young lord!" Blake's voice cut in sharply as he stepped closer, lowering himself to meet my eyes.
"Did you really dodge Sir Zayn's attacks? Are you telling the truth?" His tone carried a fierce weight, his red eyes intense, the air around him pressing down like invisible pressure. The sudden sharpness in his voice sent a shiver through my body.
Before I could answer, two firm hands landed on my shoulders, pulling me closer.
"Blake! What are you doing? Stop releasing your willpower!" Aifa called out sharply as she drew me closer to her.
Blake's expression shifted, his eyes widening slightly as if realizing what he had done. "Ah. My sincerest apologies," he said, his voice now steady and regretful. "It was never my intention to startle young lord."
"It's fine," I said, leaning a little closer to Aifa without thinking.
Her scent was faintly floral, and the warmth of her presence settled the lingering tension in my chest. For a brief moment, I found myself thinking that today really was a strange kind of lucky day, getting hugged by beautiful women twice in one morning.
A gentle hand brushed through my hair. "Are you alright, young lord?"
I look up to see Aifa looking at me with concern in her eyes.
"Yes, I'm fine," I answered softly, pulling away from her embrace and taking a small step back. The warmth lingered, and for some reason, it made my heart feel oddly light.
"Young lord." Ashar moved next to me, his tone calm but curious. "I apologize on my comrade's behalf… but I must admit, I am also curious. Are you truly able to dodge Sir Zayn's attacks?"
That again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that aloud. I've dodged Zayn's swings from time to time, sure, but just barely. Most of the time, I ended up flying through the air like a leaf caught in a storm, crashing down in ways that would've made any bystander laugh.
"I have," I answered quietly. "But Zayn is too fast. I can't see his movements or his swings, so I rely on other things—his breathing, the sound of his steps, the air cutting around him before he moves. I listen, feel the shift in pressure, and try to guess where the next strike will come from. I keep my ear and eye open… or else I won't even have the chance to react."
As I spoke, the looks on their faces shifted into something like disbelief. They exchanged glances, as if silently confirming what they'd heard.
I know what I said sounds insane, and sometimes even I couldn't believe I rely on such things, but I always thought such things were common by this world's standards... At least that's what Mother and Zayn said all the time.
"Is it possible to have such refined senses before reaching the Delta Soul Crucible stage?" Ashar asked.
"There are two possibilities," Tavian replied, his expression deep in thought. "First, that he was simply born with such sensitivity, a natural gift, possibly tied to his bloodline. Second, that he indeed possesses Sword Arcana, one that allows him to perceive the movement of blades."
All of them looked at me as if I were a difficult puzzle they were trying to solve.
"Let us test his senses, then," Blake said. "The same method we use upon reaching the Delta stage."
Tavian curled a finger beneath his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, the one used in the army. Very well." He turned to me, his gaze calm but sharp. "Young lord, would you be willing to indulge our little test?"
"Sure," I said with a shrug. "I have nothing better to do anyway."
Tavian knelt down to my level, his voice taking on a patient tone. "Young lord, please close your eyes."
I did. The world went dark instantly, no color, no light, only the quiet sound of my own breathing.
"Now," Tavian continued, "stop the mana from flowing out of your body. Keep it within... You can do that, right?"
That was easier said than done. Mana naturally leaked from everyone, including me, constantly flowing upward into the environment no matter how much I tried to hold it in. I had always thought my control was simply terrible because so much leaked from me, but according to Granny, the cause was actually my large mana pool.
I remembered Zayn's words once during training: 'Mana is like breath, the very air around us. If you can't stop the flow, then learn to guide it, control it.'
And Mother taught me a trick on how to stop my mana from flowing out of my soul crucible.
So I tried. I drew in a breath, gathering the scattered flow of mana, dragging it inward toward the Soul Crucible. The resistance was strong, almost stubborn. It was like trying to shove water into an already full jug; it spilled out the sides no matter how careful I was. I forced it back, again and again, until most of it was pulled inside. Then, before it could spill out again, I shaped what little remained into a small round plug, dense and solid, and forced it into the Crucible's mouth, sealing it. Some mana escaped in the process, but the rest stayed still.
A faint ache settled in my head, but the flow stopped.
"I'm done," I said softly.
"Wow…" Aifa's voice came softly from behind me.
"G-good," Tavian said, sounding faintly surprised. "Now, focus on your sensory points, ears, nose, tongue, skin. Don't think of anything else."
I followed his words. Slowly, carefully, I shifted my focus. My heartbeat softened, the outside world dimmed.
"…What do you feel?" Tavian asked, his voice sounding distant.
Everything was black. There was nothing but stillness.
"Nothing," I replied.
"Keep focusing on the sensory points I mentioned," Tavian said.
So I did.
I sank deeper into the stillness, letting everything else fade away. Time stretched in the dark. I kept listening, feeling, reaching. The silence was endless, until something changed. In the black void, small spheres of white light began to shimmer. One floated before me. Another pulsed softly to my right. I could feel two more behind me.
They weren't sights exactly, more like sensations that had taken form. Each shimmer pulsed faintly, alive with breath and movement, the air itself humming with a strange rhythm that matched the beating in my chest.
"...Young lord?" Tavian's voice reached me, distant yet clear.
"I think... I can... feel all of you," I said, not even sure what I meant.
His tone grew careful. "What do you feel?"
"You're in front of me... Blake's on my right, he smells of sweat a lot. Aifa's behind me, she seems curious... and Ashar next to her, he's surprised."
The words left my mouth before my mind could form them. I wasn't seeing, wasn't hearing, it was something else. I just knew.
"...Anything else?" Tavian asked quietly.
What did he mean? Anything else?
I reached deeper into that odd dark space, searching without knowing what for. And then... the black swelled outward, and the number of faint lights multiplied.
"There are three soldiers to our right at the edge of the field, watching us... five more in the top corner talking together... Silas is coming toward us from the left."
As I spoke, footsteps drew near.
"Good mornin—" "Shh!" someone hissed, probably Blake.
A hush fell. I heard Tavian swallow.
"...Is that it?" he asked.
"No," I whispered. "There's more."
The lights grew denser, filling the space around me, soft glows, pulsing gently in the dark.
"There are four maids hanging clothes to dry on the east side of the manor. Three soldiers are standing in front of the front gate. Someone is approaching that gate... It's Grandpa; he's back from his morning round. Inside the house, maids are moving about with the cleaning. Carpenters are fixing the hole in my room. Granny is in Uncle Erik's room; it seems Doctor Ridge is also there. Looks like Faux and Baloo woke up and have already started eating. In the library... it's James; he's studying again. And Mother, she's still sleeping. It's already time for breakfast; Granny will get angry—"
Something shifted.
A flare of light streaked through the dark. It was fast, sharp, cutting the air toward me. My body moved on instinct, leaping aside just as something whistled past where my head had been.
I opened my eyes, and the world snapped back into sound and light. My breath came heavily, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Tavian straightened, eyes wide. Beside him, Blake stood frozen, a wooden sword gripped in his hand. Aifa and Ashar looked as though their eyes might leap from their faces.
"Young lord, are you all right?" Silas called from behind.
I turned to him and nodded. "I am good."
"Sir Blake, what were you thinking? Attacking the young lord like that?" Silas's tone held sharp anger.
"It's alright, Silas. I allowed it," I said.
"But still…" he muttered, his voice dropping, displeasure still lingering.
"...Young lord." Tavian's voice drew my gaze back. He bowed deeply, his tone heavy. "I am sorry for doing that."
"I said it's fine."
"... Young lord managed to evade that strike…" Blake said, staring at the wooden sword as though unsure if he truly swung it.
"Then it is clear," Ashar said slowly. "The young lord has either great natural senses or he possesses a Sword Arcana of a high stage, at least that of a True Swordsman."
"True Swordsman?" Silas sounded startled. "That's the same stage as mine?"
"Seems that way." Tavian's voice carried quiet wonder.
"Is that not splendid, young lord?" Aifa's smile was soft, her tone light and encouraging.
"Right…" The word slipped out, but I didn't understand how I was supposed to feel. I am apparently supposed to be as good as Silas, a man who had practiced the sword his whole life, while I had only been at it for three years or so. I had practiced with Silas from time to time, it wasn't as brutal as Zayn, but I still lost to him easily. If I truly have a sword arcana, then it means nothing without practice.
If this was a gift from fate, I wasn't sure whether to thank it… or curse it.
"So it's you guys?"
A familiar voice drifted from above.
"Mother?" I looked up. There she was, floating down lazily, her hair a wild mess from sleep, still in her pajamas.
"Lady Valka! Good morning!!" Aifa exclaimed, nearly jumping in excitement, while the others lowered their heads respectfully.
Mother yawned, rubbing one eye. "Yeah… good morning…" Her gaze swept through everyone before settling on me. "…Was it you, Sieg?"
"…Are you still half-asleep, mother?" I asked, watching her barely opened eyes.
"I mean, were you the one looking at me?"
'Looking at me'? Is she talking about when I was trying to sense the things around me?
"Lady Valka, you felt that?" Ashar asked, surprise clear in his voice.
"Somewhat… that's what woke me up." Mother yawned again, her eyes returning to me. "…Were you practicing sword? That's surprising."
"It's a long story. One thing led to another and I ended up here."
"Yeah. Life is like that." She nodded slowly, her tone distant, like she was remembering something.
A few whispers rose from behind. "…worth investing."
I looked behind to see Tavian and Blake talking quietly to each other.
"Please ask for permission," Blake said quietly to Tavian.
Tavian nodded and stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Lady Valka."
"What now? I need to crash for five more minutes before breakfast, or at least before Ma comes after me. Make it quick." Her tone was weary, like someone fighting a losing battle with sleep.
"May we have your permission to teach the young lord the way of the sword?" Tavian asked earnestly.
What's with them all of a sudden? Are they really that impressed by whatever I just did? This is going to be a pain. I'm not that interested in swords anyway, punching things feels simpler and satisfying.
Mother scratched her head in confusion. "Hmm, sure. Zayn asked Silas to continue training him…" Her eyes drifted toward Silas, who immediately shook his head, guilt flashing in his expression. "…But Sieg keeps running away. Feel free to try your luck if you think you can catch him."
"Um, mother, my schedule is already full. Mornings are for alchemy and study, afternoons are magic practice, and by evening… I'm too tired to even lift a stick."
"But I remember hearing you have free days on the last two days of the week, am I correct?"
"Ashar!?" The words slipped out sharper than I intended. I could hardly believe it, Ashar, of all people, betraying me like this.
Ashar's smile turned rueful, guilt tugging at the corners of his mouth. "My apologies, young lord. This is for your own good."
Tavian's eyes gleamed. "Then, young lord, let's meet tomorrow."
And just like that, my holidays vanished into thin air.
At least in my previous life, I got my weekends.
In this one… all I wanted was a quiet, lazy life filled with magic. But maybe that's too much to ask for.
I looked at the morning sky stretching above the training field, soft blue with sunlight spilling through the clouds, and let out a long, silent sigh.
So much for peace.