"Sword Saint Aizen!"
Lucian, flustered, tried to help Aizen to his feet.
For it to be anyone else—but the Sword Saint himself kneeling on the ground!
Yet Aizen did not rise, remaining unmoving like a rock as he continued to speak.
"In my youth, I was arrogant. When I was still a greenhorn, I at least pretended to be humble, but after gaining the empty title of Sword Saint, I became intoxicated with my own fame."
"An empty title, you say? Who would dare call the name of the Sword Saint an empty one?"
"No. It is an empty title. Because I clung to that name, I failed to raise even a single proper disciple."
From Aizen's lips, twisted into a self-mocking smile, tales of the past spilled forth.
His tone was like that of someone making a confession before a priest.
"I was always searching for geniuses. I believed that unless someone was an unparalleled prodigy, they had no right to become my disciple. Hardworking talents never even entered my sight."
It was not because only a genius could inherit the techniques of the Sword Saint.
Rather, a disciple had to be a genius so that the name Sword Saint would not be sullied, but shine all the brighter.
Having stood at the pinnacle of the sword himself, he did not wish to leave even a single blemish in the training of his successor.
He wanted to remain in history as a master who left behind a perfect disciple.
"Blinded by greed, I kicked away the opportunities that came to me time and time again. I rejected, ignored, and drove away young people of outstanding talent and character alike, simply because they did not satisfy my eyes—and this was the result."
Aizen fell silent, then extended his wrinkled hand and muttered.
"I have grown too old now—too old to raise even a single disciple into a proper swordsman."
"This is no longer a matter of talent. The absolute amount of time required to raise a disciple who can truly stand on their own cannot be shortened, and I no longer have even that much time left. Isn't it absurd?"
Even in his final years, he had wanted to leave his name in history as a Sword Saint without a single flaw.
As a result, what remained was an empty void—perfectly spotless, yet utterly hollow.
Only then did Aizen clutch at his chest, tormented by a madness-inducing regret.
Even if blemishes were to remain, he should have placed the final punctuation mark on his life.
Surely the gods had granted him opportunities time and time again.
He realized it far too late, but opportunities once lost never returned.
"Sword Saint Aizen—grew old and died without accomplishing anything. That was destined to be the final record of this miserable old man. But…"
Aizen turned toward Lucian's direction and pressed his forehead to the ground.
"That fate was changed by you, Third Young Master."
"I offer you my deepest gratitude, Third Young Master. Thanks to you, this old man seems able to place a final mark upon his life before departing."
For a long while, his forehead did not lift from the ground.
Everyone fell silent before the utmost respect a Sword Saint could offer.
After some time, Aizen carefully rose to his feet and looked toward Felicia.
She still wore a confused expression, as if she had yet to fully grasp the situation.
"What is your name?"
"F-Felicia."
"Do you have no family name?"
…
"I am not asking about your status. The procedures differ depending on one's background. If you are a commoner, I intend to take you in as my adopted daughter."
Felicia's eyes widened as if they might tear.
One of the few ways for a commoner to become a noble was to be adopted into a noble family.
The procedure itself was the simplest and easiest—but it was also a method most nobles avoided.
Many of them considered it shameful for commoner blood to be mixed into their lineage.
'Even when they had children of their own, if those children were born of a concubine or were illegitimate, they would often adopt some distant relative instead and make them the heir. All in the name of "pure blood."'
Recalling scenes he had witnessed in his previous life, Lucian let out a bitter smile.
No matter how much commoner blood might be mixed in, weren't they still one's own flesh and blood?
Any human would want to pass things down to a child of their own seed—yet they preferred entrusting everything to a relative they had barely even seen.
It was a reasoning Lucian could never understand.
"Answer me. Do you have no family name?"
"My mother has no family name. As for my father's… I was not allowed to take it."
"Who is your father?"
"The current head of the Logran Marquisate."
"Hmm."
An uncomfortable groan slipped from Aizen's lips.
Lucian, listening beside him, frowned without realizing it.
Only now did it feel as though a small part of Felicia's turbulent life was coming into view.
'I knew the treatment of illegitimate children varied wildly… but this is severe.'
For children born of concubines or out of wedlock, everything depended on the father's attitude.
Because their status was ambiguous, if a father held even a shred of affection, such a child might be adopted and acknowledged as a proper noble.
In the worst cases, however, the father would try to erase the child's very existence—having them killed the moment they were born.
More commonly, they were kept among the servants, given a degree of special treatment, yet with a clear and unmistakable line drawn between them and the legitimate heirs.
But Felicia's case, even without close examination, was far from ordinary—only marginally better than the worst.
Not only had she been forced to accompany them on filthy business like drug trafficking, but the person she was made to attend was the half-sibling who would be most uncomfortable to face.
To anyone with eyes, it was an assignment laced with malice.
'So he must have been the sort who considered illegitimate children a disgrace.'
"What a pathetic bastard."
A contempt-laced curse slipped from the lips of Grand Duke Sigmund, who had been silent until now.
Though no subject was named, it was obvious whom he was referring to.
Aizen nodded faintly in agreement and then spoke.
"From this moment on, your name is Felicia Brightner."
"You will have much to learn, so steel yourself. From swordsmanship to the etiquette of the nobility, you will master it all. For a while, you will not have a moment to rest."
"Th-Thank you…!"
Perhaps overcome with emotion, Felicia—still kneeling—could not even properly voice her gratitude.
When it seemed there would be no further words, Grand Duke Sigmund clapped his hands and stepped forward.
"Congratulations, Sir Aizen. You have finally found a successor."
"Whether she can truly become my successor depends on the child herself."
"Don't say things you don't mean. Isn't she a child who can perceive mana from a fledgling age and adapt better than most seasoned veterans? With proper instruction, she'll absorb everything in the blink of an eye."
At the Grand Duke's words, Aizen offered nothing more than a silent smile.
Listening to their exchange, Lucian turned over information he had never known in his previous life.
To be able to see mana, from such a young age…
If one could simply observe where an opponent was concentrating their mana, wouldn't that be practically the same as being able to read their attacks in advance?
'No wonder her swordsmanship looked almost divine—was she responding after already knowing every move they were going to make?'
And that wasn't all.
Being able to see the mana within the body meant she could accept a master's teachings in their rawest form.
Even without painstaking explanations, as long as the technique was properly demonstrated before her eyes, she could grasp the underlying principles in an instant and make them her own.
When Felicia's personal combat sense was added on top of that, her growth would be at a speed utterly incomparable to others.
'She'll probably reach a level worthy of bearing the title of the next Sword Saint before Sir Aizen passes away.'
Now Lucian understood why Aizen had shown him such profound respect earlier.
Though he had dismissed it as arrogance, there must still have been lingering regret over the genius disciple he had sought in his youth.
By this, Lucian had not only given the Sword Saint a chance to leave behind a successor, but had also allowed him to let go of that final lingering attachment.
"Once again, my congratulations. Having witnessed a historic moment firsthand, it seems it's about time we took our leave. You'll be busy for a while with the adoption and her education."
"Indeed. Once urgent matters are settled, I shall come pay my respects together with my daughter."
Grand Duke Sigmund gestured toward Lucian's group.
It was a sign to clear the space so the two could speak freely.
Lucian nodded and was about to head outside with the others when—
"My liege!"
Felicia raised her voice and dropped to one knee with a sharp motion.
Before she could say anything further, Aizen grabbed her by the shoulder.
"That's enough."
"Yes?"
"You are not a knight. You have merely just become a noble's daughter. Swearing loyalty to someone when you hold no title of your own is nonsense."
"!"
"Even in serving one's liege, qualifications are required. Swear your oath of loyalty only after you have become a proper knight."
At the words she had never expected to hear, Felicia's eyes wavered.
Lucian looked at her, then let out a small chuckle as he spoke.
"I'll wait."
That single sentence seemed to be enough.
With a resolute gaze, Felicia bowed her head.
She did not straighten the knee she had knelt on until Lucian had completely left.
***
1
The upheaval caused by Lucian shook the lord's estate to its core.
Defeating Jordi and Joshua once each, no matter how generously it was judged, had only demonstrated the size of his potential.
But this time, he had openly established a major merit outside the family itself.
This was no longer a matter of vague "potential"—it was practically a step closer to becoming the next head of the family.
"At this point, it's long past the stage where this can be called coincidence."
"It's possible the Grand Duke deliberately pushed the credit onto him."
"Nonsense! Do you still not know what kind of man His Grace is?"
"Face reality. The Third Young Master is already a legitimate candidate for head of the family."
"This incident has completely overturned the line of succession. Things are going to be noisy for a while."
Up until now, Lucian had clearly been at a disadvantage, to the point where it was doubtful whether real competition even existed.
However, with this incident, Lucian's standing had risen to a level comparable to Joshua's.
In terms of pure individual ability—setting aside the power of his maternal relatives—he was clearly superior.
Compared to his other siblings, he had become a contender who did not fall short in the slightest.
At a time when the household was already in an uproar because of all this—
—Sir Aizen has taken in a successor!
The storm-like news buried everything else beneath it.
Not only the knights, but anyone even loosely connected to Valdeck was left in shock.
The Sword Saint had never taken a disciple in his entire life.
And yet, only now—when he did not have much time left to live—he had named a successor.
"Damn it, what in the world is going on?"
"How would I know? If you're so curious, why don't you ask Sir Aizen yourself?"
"Are you insane!? How could you show such disrespect to the Sword Saint!"
"Still… what happens to the competition for the next head of the family now?"
"What? Why is the succession suddenly coming up out of nowhere?"
The knights shot glares at the colleague who had brought up the strange topic.
However, he insisted this was not something to take lightly, explaining with a grave expression.
"Sir Aizen may have been neutral, but there's no guarantee his disciple will be."
"And this is a successor he took in during his twilight years. I've heard he even registered them as an adopted child—he must be deeply attached."
"If Sir Aizen continues to remain neutral, that's one thing. But if he lends his strength to the side his successor supports…"
"You lunatic! Shut your mouth at once! Do you have any idea how much trouble that kind of talk could cause!?"
They hurriedly tried to stop him, but words that had already leaked out could not be taken back.
If the Sword Saint truly broke his neutrality, the competition itself could become meaningless.
Even those who trusted Aizen's character could not completely shake the what if—and for the rest, the fear was even greater.
The unsettling rumors spread little by little beneath the surface, gradually rising and becoming fodder for gossip.
—"The next head of the family will be decided by His Highness, the lord of the house—not by me! Stop wasting your attention on nonsense and fulfill your duties as knights! Or else quit being a knight and go dabble in politics!"
The Sword Saint's thunderous rebuke shook the entire inner castle.
It was the result of some foolish knight mentioning the rumors directly in front of the man himself.
Though it was a brief incident, the unsettling rumors died down after that day.
It was, in effect, a declaration that he would not involve himself in politics in any way, just as he always had.
As people relaxed at the Sword Saint's pronouncement and returned to their daily lives—
—Gather, all of you. It's been a while, so let us have a family meal together.
Grand Duke Sigmund summoned all of the children who remained within the family at once.
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