Chapter 16
Reincarnated as the Greatest Genius of a Swordsmanship Family
Ding-ding-ding!
A gentle melody filled the air as the luxurious banquet began.
Delicious food was spread out, servants busily attending to guests, and nobles dressed in their finest attire, with soldiers maintaining strict vigilance around the perimeter.
Amidst this grand spectacle, a few slightly nervous-looking children appeared.
They were the main guests of the banquet—the future heirs of the Reinhardt family, who had just completed the Sword Selection Ceremony. Behind them, their guardians accompanied them, flaunting their dazzling appearances.
Naturally, the first to draw attention was Seron Reinhardt, the third son of Oswell, the most prestigious among the direct heirs.
A young nobleman whose pure white uniform, crimson blade, and light brown hair combined in a striking harmony.
“Is that Seron, the one at the very front?”
“The one painted all in white from head to toe?”
“Since Oswell himself is acting as his guardian, it must be Seron Reinhardt.”
“Is it true that he was chosen by the legendary Flame-Cleaving Sword?”
Many watched Seron with admiration as he walked confidently through the hall.
Next came another moment of curiosity.
“That girl is the new owner of the Great Black Dragon Sword?”
“Hmm, how did such a beautiful girl end up chosen by that cursed sword?”
“Even if she’s from a branch line, she’s Heinz’s child—there’s some reason to expect greatness.”
The blonde girl, Meilin Reinhardt, dressed in a striking pink gown, entered the hall with a gentle, bright smile. Aside from the two most prominent figures, attention shifted elsewhere.
“Who’s that?”
A girl dressed entirely in black appeared, contrasting sharply with Seron’s white ensemble, drawing everyone’s gaze.
“Oh, that’s Selena Marquess, the daughter of that famous Edin.”
“Ah, so that’s her?”
Her slightly blue, droplet-colored hair, adorned with a yellow floral pin, perfectly complemented her black dress, giving her a captivating aura even at her young age.
“She’s still so young, yet her beauty is remarkable.”
“Not just beauty—the rumors say she’s extremely skilled in swordsmanship too.”
“Right. She hasn’t drawn a famous sword yet, but expectations for her are high.”
People whispered to each other, nodding, as the conversation shifted to Selena’s potential.
“High expectations?”
“Of course. She’s descended from the great Edin, isn’t she?”
“Oh, Edin… yes, that explains it.”
The Marquess family served the Reinhardts, and Edin Marquess was a person of immense fame. Though neither a direct nor branch-line heir, he was a formidable warrior—remarkably, he was sworn brothers with the Northern Sword Duke, Damon.
Currently, Edin Marquess held the top seat among the Eleven Swords of the Northern Wall.
“Have you heard? That Selena girl’s potential surpasses even Edin.”
“Really…?”
“Damon himself mentioned it, so it’s probably true.”
“Surpassing Edin’s potential? Another monster in the making, I see.”
“One seat among the Eleven Swords is already claimed, anyway.”
“Still, she’s just a girl. Such beauty should not be swinging a sword.”
Those who belittled Selena’s talent were mostly envious nobles, filled with jealousy toward the Marquess family.
Attention then shifted to a boy dressed in red uniform.
“Heh, that’s Andrei, the one who drew the dagger.”
“Isn’t he Philip’s eldest son?”
“No, what does one have to do to find a dagger in the Sword Selection?”
“Shh, quiet. Look, Philip himself is staring at us.”
Most simply cast mocking glances at Andrei, restrained only because of Philip’s presence, the Northern Sword Duke’s fourth son.
“Are all the key figures here?”
“Not yet, one is missing.”
“One?”
As the crowd tilted their heads in confusion, the final figure entered last.
“Oh, there he is.”
“Huh?”
“That’s Master Seoram, isn’t it?”
Naturally, the crowd’s attention went first to the guardian, Seoram Master Preon, standing behind the last child. Within the Reinhardt family, Preon Zirkazin’s status and reputation were formidable.
However…
“No, I mean the boy beside him.”
People shifted their gaze to the boy accompanying Seoram Master Preon.
“Is that his child?”
“Ah, Kavel’s son?”
“I still don’t understand why the child of an exiled man is allowed at the Sword Selection.”
“Well, the Northern Sword Duke personally ordered it, so it can’t be helped.”
“Still… I heard he appeared last of all in this selection.”
“Hmph, no surprise. Pathetic.”
“So what sword did he bring?”
“What could the child of an exiled man have? Probably just some nameless blade.”
One by one, people voiced their disdain, forming a negative perception of Kavel’s son, Luin, and indirectly of his guardian, Seoram Preon.
“Tsk, so the great Preon’s protege is just this child?”
“Poor fellow, forced into such a role.”
“Forced? He chose not to refuse. I don’t respect those who grovel for power.”
“If it’s the Northern Sword Duke’s command, he’d jump into fire without hesitation. That loyalty should be recognized.”
“Hah! Loyalty? True loyalty is pointing out wrongdoing when necessary.”
“Hahaha, is that so?”
Their chatter and critique of Preon naturally reached Preon and Luin’s ears.
‘The response is worse than I expected.’
Preon had anticipated some noble disdain, but the negativity was stronger than expected.
‘Good thing I warned him beforehand,’ he thought, recalling the advice he had given Luin to steel himself. He looked at Luin’s expression.
At that moment, Luin quietly murmured:
“How can I not feel guilty?”
“What?”
Preon’s pupils widened at the soft whisper.
“Because of me, even Master Preon’s reputation is sinking. I should have refused first.”
“…?!”
“Still, since it’s come to this, let’s face it head-on. We have nothing left to lose.”
“What are you talking about, head-on?”
“Yes! This is a banquet anyway. Let’s eat without worrying about others!”
Luin then grabbed Preon’s hand and pulled him toward the delicious food.
“….”
Preon watched as Luin joyfully focused on the food, seemingly oblivious to others’ glares.
‘Mature, or just used to this?’
Preon’s thoughts lingered as he observed Luin, who, despite his small stature, faced the situation boldly and cheerfully.
‘This child… remarkable.’
Even surrounded by criticism, Luin remained unshaken, speaking confidently about facing challenges head-on—a rare quality, even among adults.
‘Generous… no, extraordinary.’
Preon felt satisfied and proud. Despite Kavel abandoning the Reinhardt name, Luin’s demeanor exemplified what it truly meant to carry it.
‘A child with great potential.’
Luin’s inner maturity was already remarkable. For a swordmaster-in-training, inner development is crucial, and Luin was a fully prepared candidate.
‘Everything else, I can teach directly.’
As Preon mentally prepared Luin’s training path, Luin, still munching on food, continued:
“Blond, scruffy beard, red hair, scar, curly black hair, green eyes…”
“Huh?”
He was quietly observing and memorizing others’ features while eating.
“Luin, what are you doing?”
“Eating, of course.”
“No, before that… I think you were muttering about people?”
“Ah, memorizing them.”
“Memorizing what?”
“Those who insulted us. Swallow!”
Luin swallowed his food and answered confidently.
“Why memorize them?” Preon asked.
“Obvious, isn’t it? To get revenge! They insulted me for no reason, so I’ll make them regret it. They’ll definitely regret it! Oh, Master Preon, try this—it’s delicious.”
Luin held out food with bright certainty. Preon couldn’t help but laugh.
“Huh? Why are you laughing?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not mocking you… I just… you finally seem like a child.”
“A child? Then I am a child. Am I an adult? Whatever, I’ll eat this.”
Luin returned to his food, focused entirely on enjoying the meal. Preon smiled subtly.
“The blond with a scruffy beard is Viscount Pisard. The man with the scar is Baron Confin…”
“Huh?”
“You said you’d remember them for revenge, right? I’m giving you their names.”
“Oh.”
Luin seemed slightly surprised but smiled and shook his head.
“Thanks, but I’ll remember them by their looks.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But thanks for your concern.”
The child courteously expressed gratitude. Preon simply smiled.
‘This child…’
Luin seemed small and young, barely reaching Preon’s waist. Despite wearing a gown prepared for his first banquet, he looked modest compared to the other children.
But Preon saw what others could not: Luin’s true brilliance, destined to outshine all others.
‘In the name of Zirkazin, I will support and watch over Kavel’s son, Luin Reinhardt.’
At that moment, a loud trumpet blared, shaking the entire hall.
“The Northern Sword Duke enters!”
The massive main doors opened, revealing Damon Reinhardt, the Northern Sword Duke, clad in a magnificent black uniform.
