"Successor...?"
Raon halted in his tracks, his body only half-turned.
"Are you serious?"
The offhand way in which such a weighty topic as choosing a successor was mentioned made Raon question whether he’d truly heard it right.
"Why would I fabricate a story about selecting a successor?"
Glenn gave a nod, as if the truth was self-evident.
"Then why bring up the subject of a successor all of a sudden?"
Raon swallowed hard as he met Glenn’s gaze squarely.
"Because nothing has begun yet."
Raon felt utterly confused—why would Glenn suddenly speak of succession when his power remained undiminished? An inexplicable shiver of anxiety raced down his spine.
"I'm designating one precisely because nothing has commenced."
Glenn slowly lowered his hand in a composed gesture.
"Once events start unfolding, there won’t be time to choose a successor."
A thin smile played on his lips, dismissing any bizarre notions.
"Everyone knows that war is imminent; thus, this rare period of calm is the ideal moment to name a successor."
Glenn lifted his eyes to the darkening sky, his hands clasped behind his back, as though reading the flow of destiny.
"I agree."
Without warning, Darkan raised his hand.
"He might perish in the coming war. It’s only sensible to decide in advance."
He clicked his tongue, suggesting even Glenn wasn’t entirely safe.
"Stop spouting nonsense."
Raon glowered at Darkan, his brows drawing together.
"Some things are best left unsaid."
"I don’t wish for his death either. In fact, I’d prefer to slay him myself. Yet..."
Darkan’s lips curved into a faint smile as he adjusted his eyepatch.
"From here on, every battle will be determined by the narrowest of margins."
With his blade, he traced a slender line on the floor between himself and Glenn.
"Glenn may fall while Derus survives—or it could be the reverse, or perhaps all will be lost."
A chill aura emanated from Darkan as he remarked on the uncertainty of the battles to come.
"..."
Raon bit his lip as he stared at the line Darkan had drawn.
*This is a barrier I cannot cross.*
Only Glenn, Darkan, Derus, and the Heavenly Demon are destined to breach that line.
"Even so, cease with these ominous statements."
Raon shook his head, silently urging Darkan to hold his tongue.
"No."
Glenn, with calm composure, also shook his head.
"What he says holds truth. No one can predict the future. However..."
He nodded in measured acknowledgment before fixing his gaze on Raon.
"I intend to live long enough to see you and the others marry and even have grandchildren."
Glenn’s faint smile spoke of his certainty that he would not meet his end before that day.
"I must witness whom you choose to wed and the kind of offspring you’ll bear."
He clenched his fingers tightly, promising to be present for every such moment.
"Since it would be exhausting to guard this throne alone until then, I plan to pass it on before that time comes."
Glenn’s subtle shake of his head reassured Raon that his successor was being pre-selected, nothing more.
"I see..."
Raon exhaled deeply as he rubbed his chest.
*I thought Grandfather had foreseen something—but apparently not.*
He had worried that Glenn’s martial prowess might grant him a glimpse of the future, but fortunately, that did not seem to be the case.
"Hmm."
Darkan tilted his head ever so slightly, as if interpreting Glenn’s words from a different angle.
"In truth, there is one possibility."
A slight smile tugged at his lips as he fixed his eyes on Raon.
"If you become strong enough to cross this very line, your old man’s odds of survival will improve."
Darkan gestured toward the mark he had etched on the floor.
"..."
Raon frowned as he regarded the drawn line.
"I’ll cross it soon."
Placing his hand on the Heavenly Drive, he declared his resolve aloud.
"Hahaha! You truly are the real deal!"
Darkan nodded vigorously, visibly pleased with Raon’s determination.
"How exactly will you choose the successor?"
Ignoring Darkan’s mirth, Raon turned his attention to Glenn.
"That..."
Glenn began speaking but then fell silent.
"Come tomorrow. I will announce it before everyone."
He shook his head, making it clear that Raon was to appear in the audience chamber the following day.
"...Understood."
Raon nodded.
*That certainly makes sense.*
Simply being informed about the succession was a great honor—any further details might be mistaken for favoritism toward him.
"I’ll see you tomorrow."
After bowing to Glenn, Raon departed from the head of house’s training ground where he had spent the past month.
"I, too, will be leaving shortly."
As Raon left, Darkan waved goodbye.
"What do you think?"
Glenn gestured with his chin toward the spot where Raon had stood as he asked Darkan.
"I already told you: he’s a monster."
Darkan pressed his lips together.
"Throughout the long history of this continent, talent like his has never been seen."
He shook his head, remarking that although he knew every detail of swordsmanship history and its legendary swordsmen, none had matched Raon’s prowess.
"If we were to compare, perhaps only that nameless swordsman who forged the Holy Ground of our Holy Sword Alliance comes close."
Darkan’s eyes narrowed, as if recalling someone specific.
"No, there’s one more: the First Patriarch who founded Zieghart."
Glenn shook his head, adding that indeed there was one other person whose talent was comparable to Raon’s.
"Anyway, if Raon continues to develop at this pace, in just a few years he will surpass both you and me. No matter what Derus or the Heavenly Demon attempt, that kid will stop them."
Darkan licked his lips, clearly eager to see Raon’s future swordsmanship.
"However, war is bound to erupt before that day arrives."
He clenched his fist until his veins throbbed, underscoring that the conflict was unavoidable.
"Is that why you’re bolstering your resolve by choosing a successor in advance? Because you fear you might die?"
Darkan jostled his chin, as if he could read every thought running through Glenn’s mind.
"You're right."
Glenn nodded, conceding the matter honestly.
"No one can foresee who will fall or how."
It was evident that he might meet his end battling the Heavenly Demon and a matured Derus.
"Yet, do not die."
Darkan uncrossed his arms and raised his fist.
"Because you must either fall by my sword or be the one to kill me."
He thumped his chest and grinned, as though longing to meet his end by Glenn’s blade.
"If fate allows."
Glenn’s faint smile and nod confirmed his agreement.
"Ah, may I ask one question?"
Darkan’s presence expanded like the heavy blade of a dark sword, making it clear that his inquiry was of great importance.
"Of course."
Glenn nodded serenely, a hint of fondness in his expression toward Darkan.
"May I also put my name forward as a candidate for successor?"
Darkan casually lifted his hand, as if to ask for confirmation.
"Hah..."
Glenn barely managed to stifle the urge to unleash the Heavenly Tremor as he uttered the word Raon often exchanged with Darkan.
"You lunatic!"
***
On his way back to the annex building, Raon glanced at the Heavenly Drive secured at his waist.
*I’ve undoubtedly become stronger, but…*
How much stronger have I really become?
Training with Glenn and Darkan had propelled him to a level that would normally require over a year of solitary practice.
Yet, because his progress was so rapid—and his sparring partners were none other than Glenn and Darkan—he found it difficult to gauge his true strength.
–You’re still incredibly weak!
In an instant, Wrath descended before his eyes, his tail wagging.
–You’re such a feeble whelp that a mere flick of my finger would have you crumple!
Waving his stout hand, Wrath made it clear that Raon still had a long way to go.
*That answer isn’t of any help.*
Raon managed a wry smile and shook his head.
*Hardly anyone can withstand your finger’s force.*
Few beings could endure the might of a demon king who boasted the ability to best even Glenn.
*But you mentioned that you’ve grown much weaker. Is that truly so?*
Raon looked up at Wrath with genuine curiosity.
–Well…
Wrath seized Raon by the collar and hoisted him up.
–How dare those words escape your lips! Who do you think molded me into what I am?
He ground his teeth, urging Raon to show some decency.
*No, I was only curious.*
Raon freed himself from Wrath’s grip, his expression turning serious.
*Exactly how much weaker have you become?*
Having often heard grumblings about losing strength and being drained, Raon wanted to know the precise extent of Wrath’s decline.
*Could I perhaps return some of the power I once took from you?*
He regarded Wrath with sincere intent.
–Hmph!
Wrath scoffed arrogantly.
–You, a mere youngster, dare to concern yourself with my state?
Tapping his forehead with his rounded hand, he chided Raon for his absurdity.
–Pull yourself together! Even if I were several times weaker than I am now, I could still easily defeat someone like you!
Despite his daily bouts of anger, Wrath steadfastly refused to provide a clear answer when pressed.
*Right. That’s what makes you the demon king of Wrath.*
Raon smiled and nodded.
*Even if I train my entire life, I doubt I’d ever reach your level.*
Noting Wrath’s reluctance to discuss the matter further, Raon shifted the topic while still offering praise.
–...That’s not true.
Wrath shook his head firmly.
*What?*
Raon’s eyes widened in surprise.
–You will eventually be able to attain my level.
Wrath’s eyes glowed a brilliant blue, as if he could already see the future unfolding.
*Uh…*
Raon’s lips trembled; Wrath’s earnest response caught him off guard.
–No need to be startled. I never lie.
With a slight jerk of his chin, Wrath seemed to imply that Raon simply needed to keep progressing as he was.
*Are you feeling under the weather?*
–I’m perfectly fine! Besides, I’m just hungry!
*Hmm…*
When Wrath acknowledged his own state, Raon’s heart began pounding wildly. He felt so empowered that nothing seemed impossible.
–But why did you suddenly question my martial prowess? It isn’t as though you plan to return the power!
Wrath narrowed his eyes as he studied Raon intently.
*When we summon the demon kings later, your power might be needed as well—but it won’t help if you’re too weak to do anything.*
Raon shook his head, not wanting to witness Wrath being overwhelmed by the archangels on his own.
–Eek…
Wrath ground his teeth as he glared at Raon.
–I thought you cared for me, yet it seems you’re only interested in exploiting my power again—and directly, no less? You wretched scoundrel!
A frosty aura emanated from Wrath’s entire body as his anger peaked.
*Oh!*
Raon pointed toward the smoke drifting from the annex building’s chimney.
*Judging by that smoke, dinner preparations must be underway. Perhaps if we ask nicely, we could even help choose the menu?*
–Oh? Ooh!
At the mere suggestion of having a say in the menu, Wrath’s anger subsided as he soared toward the annex building.
–What are you doing! Hurry up!
He beckoned Raon to follow promptly.
*Why do you suppose I mentioned that?*
Raon smiled faintly as he watched the now-animated Wrath.
*I brought it up because one day, I’ll have to return that power.*
Although he had grown stronger thanks to Wrath, Raon never intended to keep that power permanently. Once his vengeance was complete and their paths diverged, he planned to restore everything.
–Hey! What are you doing!
Wrath spun around, gritting his teeth.
–Quickly, set the dishes!
–Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.
Raon grinned and dashed toward the annex building.
*You softhearted demon king.*
***
The next day, Raon proceeded to the Lord’s Manor at Glenn’s summons. Upon entering the audience chamber, he found it teeming with officials—both Zieghart’s internal staff and external officers, along with the heads of vassal families.
Seeing that even the external commander (who resided by the castle walls) and the tower master and deputy of the internal magic tower were present, it was evident that all of Zieghart’s officials had assembled.
–Disgustingly crowded. To think these are all the officials.
Wrath arched his eyebrows, remarking that this was likely the largest gathering he’d ever witnessed in the audience chamber.
*Indeed.*
Raon nodded and moved to stand near the pillar where the palace masters usually congregated.
"Nephew!"
Balder called out cheerfully, waving as his healed stomach wounds allowed him to don his familiar tight-fitting uniform that looked ready to burst.
"You're a bit late."
Karoon remarked calmly, stroking his chin. His intense gaze and aura revealed a month of rigorous training.
"Actually, you’re right on schedule. What do you mean by late?"
Alice gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, confirming his punctuality.
"Greetings, Palace Masters."
After bowing respectfully to Alice, Balder, and Karoon, Raon positioned himself in front of the Light Wind Palace.
"You have arrived."
Burren bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"Just as expected, right on time..."
Runaan nodded, as if nothing less would suffice.
"Our Palace Master always keeps his promises."
Martha laughed confidently, as though it were entirely natural.
"Palace Master, why haven’t you been joining the training sessions lately?"
Trevin licked his lips, clearly craving more intense training—a hint that he relished pain almost masochistically. The four individuals standing behind him indicated that they were well aware of the standards by which their Palace Master would be judged.
"You may take it easy for now..."
Just as Raon was about to greet the officials of the Light Wind Palace, a resonant sound echoed through the chamber as the inner door swung open. Glenn, accompanied by Roenn and Sheryl, stepped out.
"We greet the Head of House."
"We greet the Head of House!"
Starting with Karoon’s greeting, every swordsman in the Lord’s Manor bowed deeply and knelt before Glenn.
"Hmm."
Unlike his usual casual manner, Glenn formally accepted the officials’ greetings before ascending the dais and seating himself upon the throne. An overwhelming presence radiated from his eyes, dominating the space. So intense was his aura that the officials bowed so low their heads nearly touched the floor, and not a single sound could be heard.
"Rise."
At the commanding tone of Glenn’s voice, the officials slowly rose, beads of cold sweat forming on their brows as their eyes brimmed with reverence for the Head of House.
"It has been a long time."
Glenn lifted his gaze while idly stroking the armrest of his throne.
"Since the position of my successor has remained vacant."
The officials’ expressions shifted at his quiet words—all realized what Glenn was about to declare.
"I will choose a successor who shall one day sit upon this throne and rise to the pinnacle of Zieghart."
Glenn raised his chin, declaring that the time had come.
"Successor?"
"Hmm!"
"Then could it be..."
In that instant, all eyes turned toward Raon, whose steady composure did not waver.
"Cease your searching glances—I have not yet chosen the successor."
Glenn shook his head firmly, as if he could read the officials’ unspoken thoughts.
"This means that anyone among you may rise to this position."
At that moment, a fierce and potent aura erupted from the assembled officials, shaking the very atmosphere of the audience chamber.
"Please, explain to us how the successor will be determined!"
Balder was the first to raise his hand and inquire.
"Indeed. That is the most important matter of all."
Alice nodded, licking her lips in anticipation.
"..."
Karoon’s eyes blazed with intensity, as though he might devour Glenn with his gaze.
"The first criterion is..."
After surveying the myriad emotions flickering in the officials’ eyes, Glenn lifted the golden, silver, and bronze tablets placed beside the throne.
"Merit."
-
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