Everyone in the training hall was left utterly speechless.
One of the five-year-old children gathered at the main estate this year had made an unexpected move.
The youngest son of the main family, Verdin de Strange, known for his piercing, sharp eyes filled with a sinister air, casually picked up a shabby jar nearby while the other children were sprinting with all their might to choose their spiritual guardians.
Fools. None of you can form a contract with Siegfried anyway.
After all, unless you are the chosen one, the jar won’t break.
With a steady motion, Verdin hurled the jar toward the center of the training hall.
Crash!
At the same time, two jars shattered—one being the shabby jar he threw and the other being the most fancy jar in the hall.
The startled children froze in their tracks, uncertain of what to do next.
Even their parents and the knights overseeing the ceremony were at a loss, watching Verdin’s unexpected actions with bewilderment. They could only glance back and forth between Verdine and the broken jars, wide-eyed.
Some silently thought, How dare he disrupt this sacred ceremony!, but none dared to voice it aloud.
After all, the head of the Strange family observed the scene quietly, and no one else would dare speak before him.
Not only the head but even the elders remained silent.
Verdin smiled, looking at them all.
As expected, they won’t intervene. Or rather, they can’t. There was no specific rule for how the jars must be broken, after all.
The only instruction was to break them.
Whoosh!
Smoke billowed out powerfully from the two shattered jars.
From within emerged two figures, spiritual guardians who had been sealed inside.
One was a lance knight clad in gleaming silver armor with a massive frame, and the other, a swordsman with flowing red hair.
One was the founder of the Strange family, the emperor who had conquered the continent.
The other was the hero who inherited the blood of the Strange family, who had slain a dragon from another realm and brought peace.
Both were legendary figures in their respective eras.
Tap, tap, tap.
Verdin approached them with an indifferent expression and stood before the two spiritual guardians. Then, in a low whisper, he said:
“Fight. The victor shall join me.”
It was an audacious proposal.
No, to be more precise, it was closer to intimidation than a proposal.
The two spiritual guardians were too stunned to say anything.
They simply stared at Verdin in disbelief.
What gives this child the confidence to act this way toward us?
Though baffled, they couldn’t bring themselves to treat Verdin recklessly due to his imposing demeanor.
…Interesting.
Lois de Strange’s lips curled upward as he stroked his beard.
Having witnessed this ceremony dozens of times, he had never seen such a thing before.
Not only did Verdin boldly shatter two jars simultaneously, but one of them was the jar containing Siegfried, the Sword God, which had remained unchosen for a century.
Royce couldn’t suppress a smile, even though he tried to maintain his composure.
“If you won’t fight, I won’t choose either of you.”
Verdin turned his back to them.
“And you both know what that would mean, don’t you?”
His voice was calm, his gestures light.
In contrast, the two spiritual guardians panicked, gesturing desperately and mouthing words. They seemed to want to say something, but no sound came out.
It was impossible to hear the voices of spiritual guardians who had not yet formed a contract.
After a few seconds, the two glared at each other as if ready to kill.
They locked eyes and gave a nod before raising their weapons.
It seemed they had accepted Verdin’s demand and resolved to duel.
The emperor and the hero, both revered figures of their times, were now compelled to obey the demands of a mere five-year-old.
Verdin subtly tilted his head, observing the reactions of the spiritual guardians.
The two were already locked in a dazzling battle.
However, very few present could witness the fight directly.
Even among the Strange family, only those who had unlocked their energy or possessed equivalent abilities could perceive the spiritual guardians.
Thus, only a handful of individuals in the hall could see what was happening.
Incredible.
At that moment, Valentine de Strange, the third daughter of the family, unconsciously clapped her hands.
Normally, she wouldn’t even attend such events. She had come to the ceremony purely by chance, intending only to greet her father while visiting the main estate.
Who would have thought she’d witness something so astonishing?
She cautiously approached Lois’s side.
“Father.”
Without responding, Lois brought his index finger close to his lips.
Valentine, understanding his meaning, bowed her head and stepped back.
Her father, too, must have been quite surprised by the spiritual guardians’ fight.
“Valentine.”
“Yes, Father.”
“How long did it take you to break a jar during your ceremony?”
“About an hour, Father.”
“An hour, you say?”
“Yes. The jar I first chose rejected the contract, so I had to find the next best spiritual guardian among the remaining jars. That took some time.”
“Rejected the contract, you say….”
“I still remember it clearly. I struck the jar with all my might, but it wouldn’t break. It felt as if an invisible barrier was blocking me.”
“…….”
Time passed, and the battle between the two spiritual guardians concluded.
The silver mist collapsed onto the ground, unable to maintain its form after being struck fatally by the red mist.
After a long and intense fight, Siegfried emerged victorious, his face contorted with rage as his lips moved furiously.
Though his words were inaudible, he appeared to be spewing curses.
Verdin slowly walked toward the victorious Siegfried. Then, with a bright smile, he extended his hand.
“My name is Verdin. Your descendant, the one who shall be known as the Sword King, and the future ruler of this continent.”
“The ceremony is hereby concluded.”
Royce’s voice echoed thunderously through the training grounds.
At his declaration, the participants’ reactions varied widely.
Some celebrated their newfound opportunity to rise in status, having successfully bonded with a spiritual guardian, while others despaired, left without one and facing a bleak future.
To have the lives of five-year-old children determined so harshly—such was the ruthless destiny of those born into the Strange family.
Everyone had left the training grounds, but Lois remained, walking alone amidst the remnants of the ceremony.
He eventually stopped at a place where shards of ruby-red pottery lay scattered.
It was the spot where the Sword Saint Siegfried had bonded with Verdin.
“…This jar… even I couldn’t break it once.”
Typically, Lois would have left immediately after the ceremony ended.
But today, he lingered, the reason clear in his mind.
The jar—no, two jars—had been shattered simultaneously.
A feat even he, the man hailed as the greatest swordsman of the age, had never achieved.
And yet, he had witnessed it with his own eyes.
“Impressive.”
Words of admiration spilled unbidden from Lois’s lips.
He wasn’t denying the events of the day—far from it. Instead, he admired at Verdin, born with such remarkable talent.
As the head of the family, Lois spent at least 360 days a year away from the estate.
Whether on imperial missions or years-long training in the tower, his encounters with five-year-old Verdin had been few and far between.
For the most part, he only knew how the children were growing through reports from the knights.
Thus, the ceremony left a profound impression on him.
A hiss of black smoke swirled behind him, materializing into the colossal figure of Lois’s spiritual guardian.
Half of the guardian’s face bore a gentle expression, while the other half seemed consumed with anger.
“Quite the child. To claim the Sword Saint Siegfried in such a manner.”
“Indeed. I’d heard rumors that the youngest was exceptional, but I didn’t expect this.”
“Who told him how to break the jar?”
“The method?”
“Yes, the method.”
“…The guardians explain it to the children before the ceremony begins.”
“The guardians do?”
“They gather all the children and brief them on the process.”
“And they mention breaking two jars at once?”
Lois shrugged.
“…No. Even I didn’t know it was possible. No one’s ever attempted it before.”
“Then was it chance?”
“Do you think it was?”
“…If not chance, then instinct, perhaps.”
“Chance or instinct, it doesn’t matter. The fact remains—he bonded with the Sword Saint.”
A knowing glint flickered in Lois’s eyes.
“Interesting days are ahead.”
The news of Verdin shattering the Sword Saint Siegfried’s jar spread quickly, sparking varied reactions from his siblings.
As the story passed through Valentina’s lips, it morphed into descriptions of Verdin as a monster.
Some siblings, driven by jealousy, began to resent him, while others saw his success as a blessing for the family.
But how many people truly celebrate another’s fortune?
The answer was obvious.
Nine out of ten would sooner utter criticism than praise.
Ultimately, the growing whispers cast a shadow over Verdin.
The impact was immediate. His older brothers, barely a year apart, reacted swiftly to the news, despite the years they would all spend under the same roof.
The clinking sound of tea being poured into a flowerpot echoed softly.
The tea’s crimson liquid quickly caused the plant to wither and turn black.
Even the silver spoon prepared for stirring honey darkened, proof of the potent poison it carried.
Had I consumed it thoughtlessly, I would have died instantly.
Of course, I wasn’t in any real danger. I had lived through this before.
Nothing has changed, before or now.
After I bonded with the Sword Saint Siegfried, the assassination attempts became relentless.
Every day, poison in my food, venomous snakes, or scorpions found their way into my chambers.
To think they’d target a mere five-year-old so persistently.
The answer was clear: nip the threat in the bud.
To secure their position as heirs to this castle, they needed me gone.
And the culprits?
“Hey! Verdin!”
The shrill, irritating voice pierced the air.
“Why’d you pour out the tea our mother made?”
“Exactly, brother. Looks like he needs to be taught a lesson today.”
“Oh! Let’s make him summon that Sword Saint or whatever!”
Tony, Johnny, and Ronnie—the infamous trio who acted as the estate’s self-proclaimed rulers.
Of course, it’s them.
Their smirking faces confirmed it.