Chapter 60 - < The Zoo >

Kyle’s eyebrow twitched as he looked down at Fenris. He had meant to give the damned, insolent mutt hell, but what could he say to an animal he couldn’t even talk to?

‘Well... it does seem to understand me...’

In the end, Kyle let out a deep sigh and reached toward Fenris. A sword in the shape of a wolf. His impression of it remained unchanged from when he had first entered resonance and seen the wolf. The pitch-black fur covering Fenris’s body consisted of jutting blades. The teeth inside its mouth were inverted swords, its claws were curved swords, and its tail was a sword too.

Its exposed belly, however, was covered in soft down. Remembering the hunting dogs his mercenary company had kept in his previous life, Kyle laid a hand on Fenris’s stomach.

Fenris whined softly, wriggling and rubbing its back against the ground. Curious, Kyle touched its fur. It looked like blades, but felt soft.

“Is this just for show?”

At Kyle’s question, Fenris shook its head and bristled. The soft fur beneath his hand turned hard. Apparently, it could switch between fur and blades—and it definitely understood him.

“Why can’t you talk? Jorm can, and so can Baal.”

Thinking about it after saying that, Baal probably was older than Fenris, even if both had been around for five hundred years. Or did every goblin have different traits?

Perhaps Fenris was only pretending it couldn’t speak to avoid a scolding. Even stupid-looking dogs could be surprisingly shrewd and quick to read a situation. Dogs in particular had an uncanny understanding of what they had done wrong.

“...”

Kyle stared into Fenris’s eyes. They were a cool silver, but the wary look of a guilty dog made them rather funny.

“You mutt.”

With a deep sigh, Kyle rubbed Fenris’s belly. The soft texture felt quite pleasant. Fenris seemed to agree, continuously rubbing its back against the ground and panting with its tongue out.

“You know who I am, right?”

Fenris barked loudly, then twisted around and brought its head closer to Kyle, sniffing.

“You knew ten years ago too, didn’t you?”

Fenris whined.

“Then why did you bite me, you son of a bitch?”

Kyle had not forgotten how Fenris had lunged at him ten years earlier and chewed on his little five-year-old body.

“And it wasn’t just once. You bit the shit out of me. You knew while you were biting me, didn’t you? Who I was.”

Fenris whimpered and whined.

“You knocked my hand away even though you recognized me. No, you didn’t knock it away. You cut it off.”

With a malicious look, Kyle grabbed Fenris’s muzzle. Whimpers escaped between its tightly clamped jaws, and its ears drooped. Staring into the eyes anxiously peering up at him, Kyle whispered.

“Well, it’s fine. That’s all in the past. Even I didn’t know I’d be reincarnated after dying. How could a sword like you have known? Anyway, it’s good to see you again.”

He released its muzzle and stroked its head. Still watching him warily, Fenris gently wagged its tail.

“There was so much I wanted to hear from you.”

Kyle scratched Fenris’s belly with his left hand and stroked its entire face with his right as he murmured,

“Five hundred years is a long time. How you spent all those years... honestly doesn’t interest me much. I hear you were in the Hall of Sword Pinnacles the whole time.”

Fenris whined.

“Were you lonely? You must have been. It was five hundred years, after all. But what could you do? No one but me recognized you... and this family’s ancestors thought of you as an ornament.”

That was all the more reason for Kyle to stop giving Fenris a hard time. This wasn’t just any sword. It was his beloved sword from his previous life. Over five hundred years, a goblin had come to inhabit it.

An object’s worth shone when it was used for its intended purpose. Fenris had never been made for decoration.

Kyle remembered well how sharp Fenris was. It was a sword made to stab, cut, and kill, and its blade had never dulled even after cutting down hundreds in a single day. Without even using aura, he could cleave most knights straight through their armor. Likewise, it could trade blows with aura-clad weapons without aura of its own. Fenris was a magnificent sword that could even cut through magic.

In his previous life, the Sword Demon had used Fenris according to its purpose and abilities. Since it had not been made as an ornament, he had never once used it as one. Yet that very sword had spent five hundred years on display in the Hall of Sword Pinnacles.

“You’re a sword, and I’ll use you as one. Just like I did five hundred years ago.”

Fenris grinned and panted at those words. Its drooping ears perked up, and its tail wagged gently. The fur that had softened turned back into blades, radiating sharpness.

Black mist swirled. The scent of metal, of swords, drifted through the air, along with the similar scent of blood. Fenris’s cool silver eyes gleamed menacingly. Kyle grinned at the sight.

“Though I won’t go around killing and cutting people down indiscriminately like I did in my previous life. Didn’t you get tired of that too? We killed far too many people five hundred years ago.”

Fenris whined.

“Don’t look so disappointed. After five hundred years, we both ought to change. And have a little dignity to show for it.”

Fenris barked.

“Disappointed we couldn’t go all the way today? So am I. But we couldn’t do that today. They’re family.”

Kyle paused and looked down at Fenris. It felt strange. This was his first time rambling on like this to someone who had known him five hundred years ago.

“I don’t know who you and I will fight or cut down from now on. But let’s hope it’s more fun than our previous life. The world’s changed a lot. Maybe we’re just old veterans in this day and age.”

Fenris growled.

“Don’t get angry. What’s wrong with being an old veteran? You know as well as I do that surviving the battlefield proves a veteran’s strength. And staying on the battlefield even when you’re old means you’ve lost your mind.”

Chuckling, Kyle held Fenris’s head in both hands.

“Of course, I wasn’t strong enough, so I died five hundred years ago. Then I got lucky and was reincarnated, but even dying once hasn’t taught me any better. I want to go mad for the sword all over again. Yeah, I was a little crazy five hundred years ago too.”

Fenris barked.

“You know? You’re no different. After five hundred years on display, you’d think the bloodstink would have faded and you’d have dulled a little. But you’re still sharp, and you still reek of blood. Right. Just as I was born this sort of person, you were made this sort of sword.”

Kyle smiled as he gently squished Fenris’s head between his hands.

“We may both be old veterans, but we’re not has-beens. Right? I don’t want anyone treating me like one. So let’s study hard and work hard. Make sure we don’t fall behind the times.”

Fenris growled.

“Put away that bloodlust. You ill-mannered mutt. How dare you bare your teeth when your master hasn’t told you to bite? I’ll yank them right out.”

As Fenris curled its lips and exposed sharp blades, Kyle immediately grabbed its muzzle.

“I’ll treat you like a sword, so act like one. I’m the one who wields you. Understand?”

Fenris whined.

“Do you remember when I died? I don’t know if you existed like this back then, but judging by how you act, you seem to have fond memories of running wild with me.”

Fenris nodded at the question, watching him warily.

“You remember? How was it? Were you sad?”

Fenris whined.

“What’s there to be sad about? We had a good time at the end. You and I had plenty of fun fights before that, but the last one was the best. So I’m a little... disappointed rather than sad. I wanted to fight that bastard Ruin more, and for longer.”

Fenris gazed silently at Kyle. Meeting its silver eyes, Kyle grinned.

“I hear Ruin kept you by his side. How was it? Did he use you as a sword?”

Fenris shook its head. Kyle burst out laughing at the answer.

“Sorry to say this, but I’m a little relieved. Ruin broke his sword in his later years, didn’t he? Said there was no one left to wield it against. If you’d become his favorite sword, Fenris... you would have been broken then, and we couldn’t have met again like this.”

Fenris whined.

“Even if Ruin hadn’t broken you, you might have thought of him as your true master rather than me, and refused to acknowledge me at all. He was a far better swordsman than I was.”

At Kyle’s mischievous whisper, Fenris shook off his hands and sprang to its feet, growling.

“What, you little punk? Angry because I underestimated your loyalty? You don’t get to be angry. You tore into me ten years ago.”

Fenris whined.

“Hmm, I did say I wouldn’t give you hell over the past. Anyway, quit your bullshit and come here. Can you do this too? Sit!”

A creature that understood him so well could hardly fail to follow such a simple command. Fenris immediately sat down as Kyle instructed.

“You must have seen Ruin’s swordsmanship while you were with him, right? What was it like?”

Kyle asked with quiet anticipation. Of course, he remembered Ruin’s swordsmanship from five hundred years ago. But Ruin would have lived and honed his sword for many years after killing the Sword Demon. Kyle had no idea how great the swordsmanship of a man who had even achieved ascension had become. After five hundred years, even his descendants probably didn’t know exactly what heights their founder’s sword had reached.

“Try imitating it, at least. When you cut me ten years ago, you moved just like a sword, remember? Swing that foreleg and do something similar...”

The moment he said that, the black mist surrounding them began to churn.

A blurred, ash-gray silhouette appeared beyond it. Kyle stared at it, eyes wide. He could make out neither its face nor its clothing. Its indistinct form looked like a few crude strokes of ink.

But the silhouette held a sword.

‘Ah.’

From its stance with the sword alone, Kyle instinctively knew who the silhouette was.

Ruin Alastor. House Alastor’s founder, the man who had ended the Sword Demon’s life.

The silhouette slowly raised its sword. Kyle watched with his eyes wide open. From the moment it began to move the blade, the surroundings seemed to blur out of focus, while the sword’s trajectory appeared chillingly clear.

The blade swept softly down.

The raised sword descended. There was no elaborate technique, just a downward cut from above. An utterly ordinary fundamental. The movement itself was commonplace enough for someone holding a sword for the first time to perform.

Yet within that ordinariness, Kyle saw perfection.

‘Nothing extraneous.’

From beginning to end, there was not a single deviation in the sword’s course, not a shred of wasted force. The path traced by that blurred silhouette and its chillingly distinct sword drew a perfect straight line, splitting the world in two.

“Wow...”

The exclamation escaped Kyle without his realizing it. Having died by Ruin Alastor’s sword, he knew well how beautiful it was. But the swordsmanship he was seeing now had advanced far beyond what had killed the Sword Demon.

The silhouette moved again. Within its wavering form, only the sword’s trajectory flashed like lightning. It repeated the motion several more times, lifting its sword and cutting down. Every one of those simple movements sent a shiver through Kyle.

What a sword should do. The essence of a sword. All of it existed there in absolute perfection. It was, so to speak, the world’s most perfect textbook of swordsmanship, the ideal toward which the sword should advance, the very truth a sword should express.

Without realizing it, Kyle stood. Fenris was in his hand. He swallowed as he watched Ruin’s sword, focusing intently upon it.

‘Cut downward.’

Of course Kyle knew how. He wouldn’t claim to be the best in the world, but he believed he was better than most.

Then why? Why did this simple motion of bringing a sword down from above—something he had never consciously considered before—feel so paltry and pathetic now? Why did its path feel strangely crooked?

“Haha...”

There was not a trace of self-mockery in his laugh. Kyle laughed out of sheer delight, cutting down from above again and again. Tiny tremors, unnecessary force. With each swing, he could feel what needed to be stripped away from the sword’s path. No matter how many more times he swung, he could not reproduce the vivid stroke before his eyes.

‘Again.’

Kyle kept swinging. Fenris silently traced the blade’s path in his hand. Dozens of times, hundreds. His awareness gradually faded, leaving only the sword’s trajectory beyond the mist—at once blurred and distinct—and the sensation in his fingertips.

The silhouette’s movement changed. It no longer raised the sword and cut down. Instead, it thrust forward very slowly.

A point. The sword seemed to pierce the world itself. A thrust that converged everything upon a single point. Though the blade was not aimed at Kyle, he felt as if a hole had been punched through his chest—his soul, his very existence.

Instinctively, he tried to swing his sword to block the thrust, only to realize it was meaningless. No defense could stop it.

“Wow...”

Exclaiming again, Kyle tried to imitate Ruin’s thrust. How had he positioned his arm? His breathing? Should he focus on the flow of mana? Just as he tried to thrust with those thoughts in mind, Fenris moved of its own accord in his hand. As if teaching him, it subtly twisted his wrist and guided the blade.

FLASH!

Fenris pierced the air. A purple flash burst from its tip. The thrust Kyle had just performed was quite similar to the one the silhouette in the mist had shown him. Not perfect, but seemingly rather close.

“...”

Kyle stared blankly down at Fenris. That sensation just now. The electrifying thrill lingering in his fingertips. It made his heart race with excitement—but his face twisted fiercely, and he hurled Fenris to the ground.

“Hey.”

Breathing roughly, Kyle spat out the word and dropped to the ground. The wolf, Fenris’s goblin, which had vanished when the silhouette appeared, reappeared in alarm.

“Who asked you to guide me?”

With its ears and tail drooping, Fenris looked up at Kyle. Its expression was frightened and wary, but right now Kyle could not find that face cute.

“Don’t help me.”

Kyle glared at Fenris as he spoke.

“I told you. You’re a sword, so act like one. The sword mustn’t wield me. I’m the one who has to wield it.”

Fenris whined.

“I’m not talking about being master and servant or anything. Strictly speaking, a person and a sword are partners. But if the person who should be wielding the sword is being wielded instead, how is that cooperation? If that’s how it’s going to be, is there even any point in me wielding you?”

Kyle exhaled heavily and tapped the ground. Fenris hesitantly approached.

“Listen carefully. I appreciate you showing me Ruin’s swordsmanship, but you can’t lead me. Swordsmanship reproduced that way can never be mine.”

He held an index finger before the approaching Fenris’s nose and spoke firmly.

“That swordsmanship is where I have to reach. Not somewhere you drag me to. I have to walk there on my own two feet, and swing my sword until I’ve worked my fucking ass off to get there.”

That thrust had not perfectly reproduced Ruin’s. Yet even that much had not been Kyle’s own.

“Don’t get presumptuous again, you mutt. Guide my hand on your own one more time, and I’ll never pick you up again.”

Fenris whined.

“Think I don’t have any swords besides you? I’m popular. There’s one in the Sword Garden begging me to take it up. In other words, I don’t need you that badly. Understand? Behave yourself from now on, before I put you right back in the Hall of Sword Pinnacles.”

At Kyle’s furious warning, Fenris yelped and flattened itself against the ground. It might have felt wronged to receive nothing but a thorough scolding after trying to help the master it had finally reunited with. But Kyle could not compromise on this.

“Sorry I got angry.”

Still, the sight of those drooping ears was pitiful, and Kyle quietly reached out to stroke Fenris’s head.

“You know me. I have my pride, and my dignity.”

Fenris whined.

“I’ve got a shitty personality? I know. Do you hate it?”

Fenris barked.

“Does that mean you hate it or you like it?”

Chuckling, Kyle flopped onto his back. He had only tried a little imitation, yet it felt as though all the strength had drained from his body. Fenris edged closer and lay down against his side.

“...”

Jorm had silently watched the reunion with Fenris. Had Jorm been human, there would have been plenty of questions to ask about the two of them. But Jorm was a spirit. Kyle’s past, his connection to Fenris, and the talk of reincarnation had nothing to do with Jorm.

“Master.”

Instead, something else concerned Jorm. Slithering closer along the ground, Jorm glared disapprovingly at Fenris.

“That one’s a liar.”

“How so?”

“It definitely knows how to talk. It must be pretending it can’t.”

“Are you jealous of Fenris?”

Fenris barked loudly at Jorm, who hissed and flicked out a tongue.

“Feels like I’m surrounded by a zoo.”

Kyle grumbled with a disbelieving laugh.