Chapter 34
You are my friend’s grandchild.
I am my friend’s great-grandchild.
Having burned that chaotic family tree clearly into her mind, Daphne took a deep breath and approached Heros.
“Hero.”
Thinking Daphne might be sick, Heros subtly lowered his head and examined her face.
Cold sweat?
He could clearly see cold sweat trickling from Daphne’s forehead down her cheeks. Heros’ eyes widened.
“I… I…”
Completely unaware of what Heros was thinking, Daphne inhaled deeply and clenched her fists tight.
“I seek… seek… seek your guidance! Teach me the sword!”
Teach me, teach me… Her voice echoed like a chant.
For a moment Heros wondered if he had heard wrong.
Just an hour ago, the one refusing his offer to teach anything was Daphne.
Why suddenly? What’s going on?
Surely…
“Are you unwell?”
Yes.
She was sick.
So sick she’d lost her mind!
That was the only explanation.
“If you are ill, you should return at once. I’ll send for a physician.”
“…I’m not sick. I’m perfectly fine.”
“What?”
Heros frowned down at her.
“If you’re not sick, why are you suddenly being so obedient?”
Because you’re my friend’s grandson, you damn brat…
Daphne hated the Hero.
Even if her hatred were put on a scale against the hatred of the whole world, she would win. That was how much she despised him.
But he was her friend’s grandson.
Her only friend’s grandson.
The grandson he must have cherished dearly.
So she had to endure it.
Endure…
Daphne inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing her boiling frustration down.
“Even when I try to speak nicely, you’re a damned nuisance, Hero.”
“You truly aren’t sick?”
“I said I’m not! Now hurry and swing your sword. I’ll watch and imitate.”
Heros’ eyes sharpened instantly.
“Daphne.”
The atmosphere flipped in an instant.
Mana crackled through the sensitive air, pricking her skin.
“Do you take the sword lightly?”
—Do you take the sword lightly?
Wow. Chills.
For a moment Daphne saw Vertio, her friend, overlapping Heros.
Their tone, their atmosphere—identical.
“Start with push-ups. Until you can’t breathe, your head throbs, and your vision goes white. I brought recovery potions, so don’t hesitate.”
Finishing his words, Heros returned carrying a strange wooden stick.
A thick wooden rod with stones tied to both ends—easily half a child’s weight.
“Next is endurance. Carry this on your shoulders and go down and up the hill. Repeatedly. Again until you can’t breathe, your head throbs, and you can’t see straight. Until you cannot move at all.”
Heros dropped the training tool like tossing equipment aside and glared downward at Daphne.
“You cannot touch a sword until you complete both within three hours. Until then, the training sword is confiscated.”
“……”
Wow, seriously…
“Like grandfather, like grandson.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing at all.”
Listening to training instructions identical to Vertio’s, Daphne gave a hollow laugh. Then she made up her mind.
“This time I’ll finish it to the end.”
Grinning sharply with determination, Daphne declared boldly to Heros:
“I’ll be swinging a sword within ten days!”
To learn swordsmanship from two generations at once—perhaps this was her first true blessing.
Thinking so, Sellus began her push-ups.
The Imperial Count paced anxiously inside his room.
His face, already aged, looked even older today.
Running his hand through his graying hair, he sighed heavily.
—Daphne Archion has become a hero. And who do you think made that hero? None other than the Hero, Heros Archion!
—We must leave the Grand Duke alone for now. Touch him now and it’ll be trouble.
That had been the words of the vassals who pressured Heros along with him.
“Damn it.”
Who could have predicted that Daphne Archion—the demon spawn known far and wide as a hell-raising delinquent—would pull something like this?!
“A hero? A hero?!”
Aaargh!
The Count shoved a handful of antacid tablets into his mouth and clutched his burning stomach.
“She was practically dying—how in the world…! Is she fully healed? Did that damned elf cure her?!”
Damn it. Damn it!
The Count curled up, clutching his stomach tight.
Impossible. Yes, impossible.
Without a doubt, Daphne’s so-called ‘hero’ story was nonsense—cloud-chasing fantasy.
The Count knew Daphne’s rotten personality too well.
Likely she just happened to save someone by chance and the rumor blew up.
How could such a delinquent save people and stop a terror attack? Absurd.
“Is the Grand Duke using this now to warn others away from the succession? Saying his brat will be heir so no one should approach? Trying to sway public opinion ahead of time?”
The Count had a vivid imagination.
Sometimes it helped him come up with clever strategies—but mostly it led to misunderstandings and disasters.
This was one of those times.
“That sly bastard…! Says he won’t name an heir, then pulls this!”
The Count was nervous.
He had been nervous when Heros—an illegitimate brat—claimed the Grand Duke’s title,
nervous when he became a Swordmaster,
nervous when he became a Hero serving the Emperor.
But nothing made him more nervous than the thought of that man producing an heir.
The Grand Duke’s only official heir was Lady Daphne Archion.
The rest were adopted children; the vassals would never allow anyone but Daphne to inherit.
Thus, when news came that Daphne had an incurable disease, the Count and his allies rejoiced.
When they heard she wouldn’t live long, they rejoiced even more.
If Daphne died, the Grand Ducal line would be empty.
Not passed down to someone resembling that damned Heros—but to his own child.
So they had insulted, ostracized, and spread malicious rumors about Daphne whenever possible.
“Damn brat! Born low, living low, always doing dirty tricks!”
Gnawing on his fingernails, the Count scowled.
Heros was a wicked bastard! Born low yet stealing everything from him!
“What do I do? How do I push those rats out? How do I—?!”
“Count.”
The voice that interrupted him belonged to a man with sly, narrow foxlike eyes and orange hair.
“Calm yourself. I have a plan.”
“Domit!”
The Count seized the man’s arms desperately.
“You truly have a way? Hm?”
“As the one you personally selected, I, Domit, can always find a way out.”
Domit smiled slyly—the charming smile unique to fox beastkin.
“You’ve heard the mana stone supply has decreased.”
“Yes. About a month ago?”
“It appears to be the work of a black-magic organization. Investigation suggests they raided caravans and mines.”
“My god! Then they’ve been moving for a while?”
Domit nodded.
“A subjugation force will be assembled. You should send Lady Daphne to join it.”
“What? Send Daphne?”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It hurts when you don’t trust me. I offer this because I have a plan.”
“I want Daphne dead naturally, not killed!”
“Yes, I agree.”
Domit squeezed the Count’s hands tightly.
“That’s why we only place her in the subjugation force. The soldiers’ morale will soar having the ‘hero’ join them. And if she causes… an incident, even better.”
In other words, expose Daphne’s fake hero act.
Daphne was only five.
No matter how drunk she was on praise, on a real battlefield she would show her nasty temper and throw a tantrum.
Those who witnessed it would spread the truth—destroying her fake heroic image.
It was a brilliant plan.
“And if the Grand Duke refuses?”
“Then we spread the rumor that the brat became a hero by luck. No—we must spread it.”
“Hah?”
Finally, the Count’s stiff face loosened.
He imagined every scenario Domit described.
“Yes! Domit, you’re the best!”
Indeed.
Heaven was on his side.
Unlike the Grand Duke—who surrounded himself with a lowborn, ill-mannered aide—he had a fox beastman of noble origin and verified bloodline.
Victory was his.
He would not lose to that half-breed Grand Duke.
“Begin immediately! At once!”
The Count’s eyes blazed with fire.
“…I take back what I said about you and your grandfather being alike.”
Daphne muttered weakly, unable even to steady her trembling body as she lay sprawled.
“The grandson is worse. The grandfather doesn’t even compare.”
You raised him well, old man…
If Vertio stood before her right now, she had so much to say.
How much did you torment your grandson?
If he became a Swordmaster after this kind of insane training, doesn’t that mean he lacked talent?
Even a mantis could learn the sword after a few years of this.
And—
You raised him well.
Your grandson grew strong. Stronger than anyone.
Strong enough to kill a dragon.
“…Huh?”
Even thinking about it again was absurd.
She had tried to kill her friend’s grandson.
And her friend’s grandson had tried to kill her.
No, he actually did kill me.
So she had lost once. It stung her pride.
Next time, I’ll win properly.
Even knowing Heros was Vertio’s grandson, Daphne had no intention of going easy on him.
Of course I won’t kill him, and I’ll help if things get dangerous… maybe I’ll help the family once or twice… but that’s it. I’ll never forgive that Hero brat!
Completely unaware that this was exactly what “going easy” meant, Daphne clicked her tongue.
“Still… I’m glad I found your traces again.”
Smiling faintly, Daphne slowly closed her eyes.
Sleep pressed down hard, born from deep exhaustion.
As she drifted into slumber, Daphne wished earnestly—
To meet Vertio in her dreams,
and to call his name once more.
