Chapter 1

Am I hopeless? Jin Runcandel often wondered.

This young man, barely thirty years old, didn’t always think about such things from the beginning. Once upon a time he held grand aspirations and harbored bright dreams about himself.

The first time he clutched a sword in his hands as the youngest child to the Runcandel Clan was one such occasion.

When he was little, Jin believed that glory and success awaited in the future, just as they had for his father and his siblings.

But he did not have the talent.

Throughout generations, heirs of the Runcandel Clan reached the class of a one-star knight by the age of thirteen. In the thousand-year history of the clan, none had ever failed to become at least a one-star knight by that age.

It was common for a Runcandel to become a three-star knight by the age of sixteen, and a five-star knight before they turned twenty. At that point, a Runcandel would go out into the world.

As for Jin, he was twenty-five when he finally became a one-star knight. That achievement was feasible even for the most untalented of fools, given sufficient effort.

His siblings had given him the favor of banishing him instead of killing him, in consideration of his effort.

But it’s not true that I didn’t have talent. That wasn’t the case at all, he’d think.

To his surprise, Jin discovered that his talents lay in something entirely different from swordsmanship upon leaving his family.

Magic.

He showed immense talent in magic.

He’d been wandering about when he vowed discipleship to a warlock he encountered by chance, and in three years’ time, the god of the shadows offered him a contract.

He was all set to become the grand warlock of his time for Solderet, the god of shadows—who was a god revered by all sorcerers.

And Solderet told Jin something else: Jin had tremendous talent in swordsmanship.

“Jin, you seem to have incurred envy in another’s heart when you were little. You have been unable to tap into your potential all this time due to a trivial curse. But perhaps that was precisely why I was drawn to you,” the god told him.

A trivial curse...

That’s how Solderet described the hex that repressed Jin’s talents. It was called The Blade’s Delusion, and it was a nine-star warlock who had cursed him.

Of course, Jin was completely oblivious to the fact that he had been cursed at all before he met Solderet.

The god lifted the curse on Jin with ease, the crimson web concealed within his body vanishing into the shadows.

“Now, you will become a spellsword with no equal, Jin. I shall enjoy watching you,” Solderet exclaimed.

It was true.

He took up the sword again on Solderet’s counsel and he reached new heights with every swing. Gone were the days of Jin Runcandel, the infamous and unprecedented failure of the family.

He wielded magic in one hand.

And in the other, the sword.

In a decade’s time, he would become powerful enough that he would no longer have to hide from his family who had banished him. All that was left for Jin to achieve was to become the mightiest spellsword in history to rule the world.

But it seems I was hopeless after all...

Cough! Jin spewed a mouthful of clotted blood. Blood oozed from his nose, his two eyes and ears.

He would perish soon.

He hadn’t a single opportunity to use Solderet’s powers nor the magic he had honed for the last three years.

An unexpected assault launched by three nine-star knights on the Kingdom of Arkhin’s capital had caught Jin in his sleep, from which he sustained a fatal injury.

And all of it had occurred during his sleep.

Half a day would’ve been more than ample for a nine-star knight to single-handedly obliterate kingdoms of Arkhin’s size. With three such knights striking the capital city, there was no chance for the likes of Jin, who had just stumbled into the path of amassing strength.

He barely noticed the attack, as he was fast asleep, exhausted from his training.

What a ridiculous death this was. His misfortunes led him to the brink of madness, but all that escaped his mouth, now gurgling with blood, was a futile laughter.

Death was drawing fast and yet, not a single soul was at his side.

Not his teacher who adored him, not his siblings who abandoned him, nor his family.

Not even Solderet broke his silence.

If this was what would come to pass... Why had the gods granted me an opportunity at all?

And thus, Jin Runcandel closed his eyes.

As he did, he realized his life had been full of regrets, although he felt no reluctance for it.

# # #

Waaah, waaah.

Here I am, seconds from death, and I hear a baby crying out of nowhere, Jin thought to himself.

Am I becoming delusional now that I’m about to die? Or did the shock waves from the nine-star knights’ attack cause a neighbor’s baby to drop to the ground?

It would truly be unfortunate if the latter was true. As of today, the Kingdom of Arkhin would fall. There was no way an infant could survive the chaos.

I would love to save the child, but here I am, my body torn in half. I pray that you are born to a happy place in your next life, not in a cruel world like this.

Waaaaaaah!

The wailing grew louder by the minute. The baby was crying its lungs out, as though grasping at its last hope for survival.

What a pathetic death, to die helplessly before a wailing baby.

The pitch-black darkness was all he could see.

And the baby’s wailing continued on, with seemingly no end. Amidst the shame at his helplessness, Jin started questioning why he was still alive at all.

Among all other fatal wounds and stabs, his torso had been cut clean along the waist. He would’ve barely lasted 10 seconds in this state, and yet the wailing continued on.

Wait, I’m the one making these sounds!

What a bizarre phenomenon this was. Indeed, it was Jin who had been making the crying noise.

The day was the 9th of September 1780. The very day the youngest son of the swordmaster clan, Jin Runcandel, was born.

# # #

A hundred days had passed since he was born again.

Jin had become quite a proficient crawler by this point and finally came to accept the reality he was subjected to, for lack of choice.

What else could he do? What could he do about being born again following his recent death, and who could he consult when he could barely gurgle?

Even if I were to describe what had happened by the age of five, who would ever believe that I hold 28 years of memory from my previous life?

They would surely dismiss it as a child’s delusion or an exaggeration.

It would be a different story altogether if he were to sprinkle elaborate details of the family history and secrets here and there, but he was highly likely to be taken as a cursed child if that were the case.

And thus, Jin was destined to live out his life as the cursed youngest son to the Runcandels once again.

The youngest son of the Runcandels!

It was a blood-right of the highest pedigree. Most people in the world would consider this station in life a blessing like no other.

However, it didn’t sit well with Jin.

I’d hoped to be born to an ordinary family—if there was such a thing—in my next life.

If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have needed those 100 days to accept this new reality.

He was born to the same family, as their youngest child again, on the exact date of birth as his previous life. Needless to say, that meant he had the same set of skills as the last time.

Of swordsmanship and magic.

But it so happened that the Runcandel clan despised all magic. The master warlock clan, the Zeifls, were the greatest enemies to the Runcandels.

I can’t believe I was born as the youngest son to the Runcandels again. I wonder if I still bear the curse that Solderet lifted from me. And how should I leave the family and learn magic this time?

If he couldn’t escape his family, there was no way he could learn magic.

If the curse that Solderet had lifted from him was still intact, he wouldn’t be able to master swordsmanship either

Jin lapsed into sleep amidst his thoughts. His infantile body tended to drowse off like so, despite his best will or effort.

# # #

Jin turned one. The progress of time couldn’t be any slower.

He’d become wary of devising future plans to survive amidst his family. He was tired of spending days and nights in this young body, incapable of speech and so susceptible to the lure of sleep.

If only I could grow faster! This is so frustrating! I can’t do anything until I start growing!

He would drink the milk from his bottle and go to sleep when it was time. After he relieved himself in his diapers, his nanny, Gilly, would change them. It was an excruciatingly shameful ordeal to Jin, who had the mind of a young man.

This was how Jin passed his days, for an entire year.

The sound of heels clicking echoed in in the hallway.

A woman came to Jin’s nursery. It was his mother, the Lady of the Clan, Rosa Runcandel.

With her jet-black hair, piercing eyes, and sharp nose, there was both beauty and a cold look about her, which earned her the moniker of Black Panther among the people.

“Gilly, have the preparations been made?”

“Of course, my lady. Today is the day the young lord will make his choice. I made sure I looked into every detail.”

“Good. Then let us get started immediately.”

Upon hearing their conversation, Jin realized it was his birthday today.

The children of the Runcandel Clan went through a rite named the choice on the day they turned one.

It was a ritual in which various objects were laid on the floor for the child to crawl toward and select.

The Runcandels strangely obsessed themselves over this superstitious ritual, as they believed that the object of the child’s choice would alter his future.

Rosa took Jin in her arms and walked to the main hall of the castle.

At the center of the hall stood Jin’s father, with his arms crossed. He was Ciaron Runcandel, the greatest knight of the present times.

Father.

It was the first time Jin had seen his father since his rebirth. Ciaron had reached the state of demigod and spent little time at the clan castle.

His days were for the battlefields, or his secluded training.

And my siblings...

All twelve of them.

In his previous life, they treated Jin as a worthless insect, but on this day, they hadn’t yet begun to hold him in contempt. His siblings were waiting for Jin to arrive, and they all had genuine smiles on their faces.

It weighed heavily on Jin’s heart to see their faces again, for they reminded him of his sad, previous life.

“Rosa, please put Jin down.”

She placed him down on the floor. The chill of the marble floor pierced into his soft skin.

The objects for the choosing ritual had been laid out two meters away.

One book, a couple of coins, a single grain of rice. And an assortment of more than twenty swords of each type were stuck into the floor of the hall.

All Jin has to do is to select one of those items.

I had no recollection of it from my past life, but to see it with my own eyes, this is pure madness. How could they let an infant choose an item with his bare hands after placing dozens of sharp-edged swords in here?

In his past life, Jin had chosen a sword. With the book, the coins, and the grain of rice barely visible amidst all the swords, it was no mystery most Runcandel children ended up with the swords.

“Choose, my son,” his father intoned.

The members of Runcandel family fixed their eyes on Jin, who was now crawling.

They were eager to discover whether the youngest among them would choose the double sword, the great sword, or the longsword.

In any case, a sword.

Amidst the nervous gazes, Jin continued toward the one sword he had also chosen in his previous life.

People of the world had no idea that the great Runcandels stuck to such a stupid ritual every time a child was born.

What a struggle. Crawling just a few meters was arduous and tedious to the point of frustration.

I suffered from choosing this sword in my past life, for I didn’t know what I was doing. This time, I’ll choose you myself.

Thump. Thump. He could feel his tiny heart beating fast.

Dozens of swords were arranged in a circle, and at the center lay the sword Jin wished to choose.

As he rolled himself about to pass the first sword laid in front of him, the Runcandel family looked on with eagerness.

Even if they were born to the most renowned swordmaster clan in the world, babies were bound to choose the item placed nearest them.

But here Jin was, navigating his way through the first forest of swords. The members of the family gulped at every step Jin made.

They were all thinking one thing.

Don’t tell me he’ll choose that sword.

Jin brushed past the other swords, and one could see Ciaron and Rosa raising their eyebrows, even though their statuesque stillness.

“Gaa!”

Jin finally made his decision. Blood trickled down his finger where had touched the blade.

His siblings gazed at the sword Jin had chosen with their mouths wide open.

They all thought Jin had chosen the sword by chance, but little did they know how desperately the one-year-old Jin crawled to choose this particular sword. It was no easy task to control his infantile body, despite the fact that he retained his memory.

It was difficult to crawl toward it even with intent to choose it. How did I ever choose it by chance in my past life?

Balisada.

This was the name of the sword Jin had chosen. The very symbol of the Runcandel Clan.

This sword could only be wielded by the patriarchs, and only the patriarchs recognized by every single member of the clan.

There were fewer than five occasions throughout the long history of the clan wherein Balisada was picked as the choice.

Every single person who had chosen Balisada would eventually become a patriarch—with the exception of Jin Runcandel in his previous life.

“Jin has chosen the sword of our First Patriarch,” Ciaron announced solemnly.

Some shouted in joy and others struggled to conceal their troubled hearts.

So was the superstition of the Runcandels.

“The ceremony has ended. Have Jin moved into the Storm Castle.”

# # #