TSMRG 18

Chapter 18

While everyone at the banquet was smiling brightly, chatting, and enjoying their time, there was one boy whose expression remained far from pleasant throughout the entire event.

And then—

“Keep your head straight, Andrei! No matter how stupid and pathetic you may be, you’re still my son.”

“…Yes, Father.”

This was Andrei, eldest son of Philip Reinhardt—the fourth son of the clan, infamous for his fiery temper and rash nature.

Simply because he had drawn nothing more than a dagger from the Sword Vault, Andrei had endured endless scolding and suffocating pressure from his father up until just before the banquet began.

Of course, it wasn’t only Philip.

Everyone who knew Andrei, or had even the slightest relation to him, mocked him or dismissed him with ridicule.

“How do you even end up drawing a dagger from the Sword Vault?”
“Does the Reinhardt family secretly keep assassins among their bloodline?”
“A dagger? What can a swordsman possibly do with that?”

Like those whispers, Philip himself spat only curses and anger at his eldest son.

“You useless fool! Pathetic child!”

But Andrei didn’t care at all about his father’s rage or the laughter of others.

‘This dagger isn’t just any dagger.’

Carefully, he pulled it from within his robes—a small blade wrapped in violet silk.

“Just wait. I will surely…”

“Andrei! What are you dawdling for?! Get over here now!”
“Yes, Father.”

Nodding perfunctorily, he strode confidently toward where Philip was waiting.

And at that sight—

“Click, click… the owner of the dagger makes his entrance.”
“A dagger in Reinhardt’s house? Ha!”
“Wasn’t Philip’s nickname the ‘Little Giant’? Guess his son turned out even littler.”
“Then shouldn’t we call him the ‘Tiny Giant’ from now on?”

Though mocked on all sides, Andrei’s face didn’t change much. Only his eyes gleamed with irritation.

‘Go on, run your mouths.’

The reason he wasn’t shaken by their gazes was simple—because the secret of the dagger he had chosen was far greater than they could imagine.

For a clan that had held the strongest position for over a thousand years, could there really be only light? Naturally, darkness and shadows also existed.

Just like the hidden shadows nurtured in secret by Lord Seoyik, who became legend as Shadow Unit 1872…

That same northern darkness was gathered in the dagger now resting in Andrei Reinhardt’s hand.

The Blood-Drinking Sword.

This small dagger, said to be dyed in crimson blood, was in truth a weapon that drank blood.

The more it fought, the more blood it consumed, the longer and redder its blade grew.

And when it finally absorbed enough blood to reveal its true form, it was said its master would gain unimaginable power.

‘Of course, I don’t believe every word of it.’

After all, it was only the sword’s own spirit that had whispered those words to him during the trial. He still planned to doubt that phantom voice.

Even so, he couldn’t deny one thing: thanks to that strange spirit, he had discovered this Blood-Drinking Sword by chance, despite the little time he’d had.

‘Someday, I’ll grow this sword to its fullest—and seize the strongest power.’

Thus, while everyone mocked him, Andrei silently nurtured his ambition alone.

Of course—

“Hurry up already, you fool!”
“I’m coming, Father.”

—his father Philip Reinhardt’s constant irritation wasn’t likely to end anytime soon.

After Heinz and Mayrin caused their stir, both were led away by Grandmaster Preon of Seolam Peak.

Left alone, Ruin sampled the food laid out before him, quietly observing the room.

‘Some things never change.’

Even during his days as Shadow Unit 1872, he’d attended many such banquets as the leader of the shadows.

And back then, too, people whispered behind his back—mocking, slandering, looking down on him for being part of the shadows.

Now, it was no different. Only the reason had changed: this time it was simply because he was Kavel’s son.

‘Well, I’ll remember every last one of them.’

Nodding faintly, Ruin silently memorized the faces of those who had insulted his parents earlier, collecting names and details as he listened in on stray conversations.

But—

[Mmm, now this tastes excellent! Go on, eat more. Yes, that one!]

The noisy spirit of the sword kept commenting on every bite he took, making Ruin raise an eyebrow.

‘…Wait. You can taste what I’m eating?’
[Of course. Our souls are bound. Naturally, taste is shared as well—]
“Puh!”

[Wh-what are you doing?! Why spit it out suddenly?!]
‘Because it’s gross thinking about you tasting my food with me. Just made me want to spit it out.’

Grimacing, Ruin muttered under his breath.

Sharing his meals with a middle-aged man he had once seen face-to-face was not exactly a pleasant thought.

[That’s the wrong mindset, Ruin. Once a contract is formed, the soul-link is inevitable. Stop doing pointless things and enjoy the food—]
‘Shh. Enough.’

Cutting off the spirit, Ruin smirked slightly.

‘Depending on how you behave, I’ll decide whether I keep eating good food… or switch to nothing but rations.’

[…]

His sharp threat silenced the spirit immediately.

At that moment—

“Ruin Reinhardt.”

A new voice called him. Turning, he saw an unexpected face.

‘Hmm… this kid?’

He remembered sensing his aura earlier through Heaven’s Unfailing Veil before the Sword Vault ceremony began. Among all, this one had stood out most.

“Seron?”
“So you know my name. I suppose that’s natural. Yes, I am Seron—your cousin.”

After a curt greeting, Seron’s voice turned cold.

“So you’re the reason this place has been noisy.”
“…What?”

Seron seemed to be picking a fight out of nowhere.

“Of course, I have no intention of judging Uncle Kavel. Everyone has their circumstances and reasons.”
“…”
“But I do think your presence here is disrupting the order of this banquet.”

Far too serious for a child his age, Seron’s words made Ruin’s gaze grow heavy.

“Disrupting the order?”
“Yes. Because of you, an outsider, the value of this banquet and the dignity of our clan are being diminished.”

He gestured to the people gossiping about Ruin nearby.

Ruin chuckled, shaking his head.

“Hey, I was just sitting quietly. They’re the ones insulting me. Shouldn’t you scold them instead of me?”

“Of course, I don’t approve of their actions either. But the fact remains—you are the cause.”

“…What did you say?”

“That’s why I have a proposal.”

Seron’s eyes grew cold, arrogant.

“When this banquet ends, let’s duel.”
“…Huh?”
“I’ll see for myself whether you deserve to wield the Reinhardt sword.”

‘What’s with this kid?’

Ruin stared at him in disbelief.

And Seron smirked, pressing further.

“What’s that look? Are you afraid?”

“…Heh.”

Ruin chuckled, then smiled wickedly.

“Tell me, Seron.”
“…?”
“Do you get scared of people weaker than you?”
“What?”

The confident expression on Seron’s face froze.

“Seron, you’ve learned all seven of Reinhardt’s basic sword forms, right?”
“Of course. I mastered them long ago, and now I—”

Before he could finish—

“Oh, you mean the Union Formula?”
“…You know about that?”
“Knowing isn’t important. What matters is—have you mastered it?”
“…What?”

Even the sword spirit chimed in:
[Hooh, so have you mastered it yourself?]

Ignoring him, Ruin pressed on.

“They say only those who’ve fully learned the basic forms can unlock the Union Formula within them. So I’ll ask again—have you completed it?”

Seron faltered, his eyes wavering.

“…Father said it’s too much for our age. So I…”
“Ah, so you haven’t.”
“T-that’s not—”
“Pathetic. And here I thought you were some prodigy. Challenging me when you can’t even complete that? Go back to suckling your mother’s milk.”

Having lived in the rough back alleys, Ruin unleashed his sharp tongue mercilessly.

Seron, sheltered and pampered, could only gape, face flushed red with shame and fury.

Just then—

“Is there a problem here?”

Grandmaster Preon appeared, cold voice cutting in. Standing as Ruin’s guardian, he looked between them.

But Seron only bit his lip, glaring at Ruin.

Grit.

And then he shouted angrily:

“Then what about you?!”
“…?”
“Have YOU even learned the Union Formula?!”

His voice drew attention from the surrounding guests.

At that moment—

“The Union Formula is composed of sixteen forms: five of the First Sequence, six of the Middle Sequence, and five of the Final Sequence.”
“…!”
“It begins with Piercing Rending Strike, continues with Wave-Cutting Flash, Radiant Crush Form, and closes the first sequence with Mid-Revolving Slash. Then the Middle Sequence begins with Rising Hawk Cry…”

Ruin recited smoothly, without pause, like water flowing through a mountain stream.

Finally—

“…and ends with the Final Sequence’s Meteoric Flash Slash. That is the completion of the Union Formula. Satisfied?”

“H-how do you…?”

“What’s wrong? You think just because I came from the countryside, I’m not Reinhardt blood?”

Seron froze, unable to respond.

“Ruin, enough.”

Judging it had gone too far, Preon quickly intervened.

“Come with me. And Seron, calm yourself. Your father is watching.”
“Ah…”

At the mention of his father, Seron’s eyes dimmed instantly.

Preon immediately led Ruin away from the stares, outside the banquet hall.

“Ruin, what happened? Tell me clearly.”

Kneeling to meet his eyes, Preon asked gently.

Ruin smiled faintly.

“Seron challenged me to a fight. I refused.”
“…What?”

Preon frowned.

“And the Union Formula—how do you know of it?”
“Oh, that? My father taught me. Besides, that brat came to me first, claiming I lowered the clan’s dignity and saying he’d test if I was worthy of the sword.”

Preon slowly understood the situation.

“…That boy is Seron, son of Vice Hall Master Oswell.”

“I know, the great young master. Don’t worry—this was just a childish quarrel. I don’t hold any grudge.”

Preon studied Ruin quietly. He trusted that the boy would not speak thoughtlessly.

‘Still… it leaves a bitter taste.’

For a child to grow so quickly, to see the world so clearly—it was somehow a sorrowful thing.

Then—

“So I guess we can’t go back in now? There was still so much good food left…”

Ruin pouted like a child at last.

Preon couldn’t help but smile faintly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have food sent to your quarters.”
“Really? You promise?”
“Yes. Rest well tonight.”

Usually cold and expressionless, famous for showing no emotion—today, for the first time, Grandmaster Preon revealed his honest feelings before the boy named Ruin.