[Check Out My P4treon For +50 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][https://p4treon.com/roooaaa]
===
Sauros met Allen's gaze head-on. As an advanced swordsman, he immediately understood the unspoken message.
There's no need for empty swings.
Because what held him back was never a lack of swordsmanship fundamentals.
So why swing?
Merely to temper his will.
A faint smile crept onto Sauros' lips as he studied Allen—the one who, in some ways, resembled him the most.
Just like my younger self.
And just like his younger self, Sauros still craved youth.
Because as long as he remained young—
He could keep gripping the Boreas family's Iron Heart, standing tall over his domain, the Fittoa Region.
"Arrogant!"
"But I like that look in your eyes."
"Twelve years old. Saint-rank in Water God style, advanced in Sword God style, and at least advanced in North God style. You've earned the right to pride. Top of the younger generation in the Water God dojo. Even after leaving the capital, you were still granted the title of Water Saint—along with a unique epithet. And I hear you've even created a new Water God secret technique?"
"A mere substitute for failing to master the Five Great Secrets."
Sauros' eyes narrowed, but then he turned away, gazing down at the scenery outside the window.
"Spare me the false humility. The Boreas family has no use for the pretenses of the strong. Don't feed me the same hollow courtesy you learned in the capital."
"Those noble brats in the royal city—basking in the peace their predecessors carved out with corpses—do nothing but drown in wine and women, scheming and backstabbing, putting on pretty performances."
His voice dripped with contempt as he recalled the revolting grin of a certain pig. Yet even his scoff carried a bold, unwavering weight—nothing like an old man's frailty.
"The legacy of the nobility, forged in the blood of the Human-Demon War, has been sullied by their hands. A pack of petty, conniving rats! Do you think I don't know the capital's rot? The stench runs from top to bottom. Most nobles your age spend their days buried between women's thighs. That fool Paul ran away from home at twelve because of some dalliance with a girl—wasting his swordsmanship talent on such idiocy!"
"Be proud! You've already climbed higher than your peers. The last young man I praised so highly was the First Prince, Grabel. Though born in the capital, he knows restraint. He builds his influence with care—and his heart is cold and hard enough to rule. That's why the Boreas family backs him. If any prince is fit to sit on Asura's throne, it's him."
Suddenly, Sauros' mood shifted. A fierce grin split his face as he thrust a hand toward the window—
—Pointing straight at Fittoa.
His sleeve snapped like a banner in the wind.
"I admire Grabel because his eyes are fixed on the heights. So let me ask you this—"
"Allen. Do you like the view from up high?"
Allen glanced indifferently at the landscape below.
To a modern man who had literally been to the stratosphere, this "height" was laughably mundane.
"Not interested."
Sauros' smile vanished.
"Is that why you pretended to retreat from the capital to Fittoa? You could've gained far more by staying. I know James' underlings well—if you'd remained, the next head of House Boreas would've been yours."
"So I'll ask plainly: Why did you return? What do you seek? In this past year, I've watched you closely. Your will is unshakable—enough to endure playing the role of a mere tutor in this house, never overstepping."
"Then tell me—"
Sauros didn't turn. Only his eyes slid toward Allen, sharp as a blade.
"Are you here to help your real father, Philip, reclaim the family headship?"
Allen's expression didn't flicker.
Explaining "Power bows to the edge of your sword" to these privilege-born nobles was pointless.
Their biases were set in stone. Mention personal strength, and they'd retort with nonsense like "Even Ghislaine, the Sword God's fourth-ranked disciple, serves House Boreas!"
"Not interested."
Sauros' face darkened. With a dismissive glance, he turned away—
—As if Allen had lost all value in his eyes.
Both men now stared out the window.
At the same thing.
A distant speck in the sky—easy to miss, but crystal-clear to their enhanced vision.
A black sphere.
Wrapped in slowly swirling bands of mana.
The spatial rift of the Great Teleportation Incident.
Sauros—"ambitious", bearer of the Boreas Iron Heart—chose to see it as a "sacred pearl," praying for peace rather than facing the truth.
Allen—"short-sighted", deemed unworthy of the Iron Heart—had long agonized over whether to save these people, striving for an "ideal resolution."
Grandfather and grandson were opposites in some ways.
Yet eerily alike in others.
Amusing, really.
After a long silence, Allen spoke.
"I've seen this anomaly while training on the roof. It resembles a 'sacred pearl,' doesn't it? Are you praying to it?"
Sauros stiffened.
"Optimism spares you unnecessary grief."
Allen's eyes narrowed at the mana sphere as he enunciated each word:
"And what if it's not a 'pearl'—but an omen of disaster?"
Sauros' jaw clenched. His gaze swept over Fittoa, veins pulsing at his temple.
"Then let it come! I'll ensure this land stands firm!"
The moment the words left his mouth—
Allen raised a hand, pointing at the "pearl."
"What if it's a calamity capable of erasing Fittoa from the map?"
Silence.
Sauros whipped around, eyes locking onto Allen's.
Allen met his stare, unflinching.
Time seemed to freeze.
Then—
Sauros laughed. A fierce, thunderous sound as he wheeled back toward the window, his gaze blazing with defiance!
"Then I'll die with my land!"
"House Boreas has guarded this territory for 132 generations."
"Passed down—"
"To me."
"Sauros Boreas Greyrat."
"Should I abandon it? Tarnish my ancestors' name?"
"The Iron Heart and traditions of House Boreas must not fade!"
"And I—"
"—am the one who will uphold its honor in this era!"
The wind howled against his face.
He met it with a fist.
His eyes burned.
"This land—"
"Fittoa."
"As its lord—"
"I was born here!"
"So I'll damn well die here!"
——
Beside him, Allen stood silently in the cold wind, his expression unreadable.
What is he thinking?
===
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 265 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 55 power stones I will publish the next chapter.
https://patreon.com/roooaaa