Ch.400Story (3)

After putting Ariel to sleep for a while, Clark’s stories continued without end. He spoke freely about the past as if unburdening himself of long-held memories.

According to him, he had lived as a wanderer for over 30 years. Having barely managed proper settlement for just over 10 years, he had spent quite a long time roaming.

And most of that time was spent carrying on the family’s will, tracking demon worshippers.

“Were you part of some secret organization, Grandfather? You mentioned a group earlier.”

[Half right, half wrong. Rather than an organization, we were more like scattered cells that would gather at specific times. Of course, everything fell apart because of that damned Cardinal.]

“When was this organization formed? I’m curious about its name too.”

[There was no name, and it was never properly established. Whenever we set up a hideout somewhere, they would raid it within days, forcing us to keep wandering.]

I nodded as I listened to Clark. This was actually the safest and most necessary approach, as the demon worshippers were powerful enough to twist even history itself.

Not only did they have a firm grip on the underworld, but they also had connections with nobility, making it dangerous to form an organization.

Clark added that there were hardly any like-minded people, so he essentially tracked them alone.

This wasn’t just Clark’s situation—it was a nomadic lifestyle passed down through generations. My father raised a question about this.

“But while I’ve seen my father, I never saw my grandfather. Did he die before I was born?”

[Huh? No. I don’t even know if that old man is alive or dead myself.]

“… …”

[Just kidding. I personally conducted his funeral, so don’t worry. But since they could resurrect him with sorcery, I had him cremated. You should cremate me too when the time comes.]

Occasionally he would say things that might be jokes or might be truths. It was quite entertaining to watch my father’s expression change in real time whenever Clark joked around.

He might seem a bit immature, but his personality was naturally cheerful, and crucially, he was in his fifties.

More accurately, he should be referred to by his age at death. He had protected my father as a spirit, but even those memories weren’t intact, as he himself mentioned.

“…When will you leave? I’d prefer if you could stay longer if possible.”

My father sighed and asked Clark in a voice filled with complex emotions.

Though he phrased it that way, it was clear he wanted Clark to remain in this world longer.

There were father-son misunderstandings to resolve and feelings to share, and crucially, Clark had lived a life burdened only by duty.

Shouldn’t he be allowed to taste freedom, even if just a little? At least, that’s what I think.

[Well, it won’t take long. I should meet my daughter-in-law, and the grandchildren I haven’t met yet. Dave and Nicole followed in your footsteps and became knights, didn’t they?]

“Yes, they did.”

[I should challenge them to a duel. I should at least see them perform once before I go, shouldn’t I?]

I wonder if that “performance” will really be just that. Dave and Nicole graduated top of their class from the Academy’s martial arts department, so they’re quite strong.

Of course, they would still be lacking compared to Clark, who defeated demon worshipper lords single-handedly.

[Speaking of which, how about we have a match after all this time?]

“No thanks. I’m too old for that, and I should show some consideration for an elderly man. Besides, you’re nothing but bones—can you even exert proper strength?”

[Hahaha. Listen to how this son talks to his father. You haven’t changed a bit from the old days.]

“Thanks to whom I’ve lived such a harsh life.”

Though they spoke like this, their relationship didn’t seem bad at all. Rather, despite the passage of time, they seemed more like brothers than father and son.

My father had mentioned before that Clark wasn’t a good father, but while he may not have fulfilled his role properly, he must have viewed him positively as a person.

Seeing them converse so amicably(?) now, one can easily guess at their friendship.

At least during the time they were settled, they must have had a peaceful daily life. Until the demon worshippers attacked, that is.

[By the way, it’s fascinating. To think someone so literary would be born under you.]

Clark gestured toward me with his chin, speaking with wonder. At the same time, everyone’s gaze, including my father’s, shifted to me.

Receiving those gazes, I felt awkward and scratched my head. Indeed, I must be quite a curiosity to Clark.

A novelist born into a family that values martial arts. One who repeatedly folds and unfolds worlds, and is revered as a prophet.

Though my mother was said to have written elegantly in her youth, that alone wouldn’t explain it.

“I find it strange too. He preferred books to weapons from childhood. And he wasn’t as physically robust as he is now.”

[Perhaps he takes after me. You might not know this, but I used to write a bit in the old days.]

“Still as shameless as ever. Did you think I wouldn’t know you only wrote in a diary?”

[Oh? Then have you ever written anything? Should I tell everyone about how you got chewed out by your superior for writing terrible reports?]

“Why is that suddenly coming up?”

They’re fighting again. I could only smile wryly watching these aged men quarrel.

I should step in here. I quietly intervened while they were bickering.

“That’s enough. Aren’t you embarrassed with other people around?”

“He started it with his nonsense.”

[I was just stating facts. It’s my son who doesn’t believe me.]

“Anyway, I’m just an ordinary person who likes books. I taught myself writing too.”

[What about your plots? How did you come up with those?]

“Let’s skip that.”

I’d like to tell him: Grandfather Clark slaughtered all the lords, and while the summoning ritual failed, I was summoned as a rebound effect.

He doesn’t seem to know this yet, but I plan to tell him soon.

How will he react? Will he laugh hollowly, or show some different response?

Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it. Having skillfully navigated this crisis, I moved on to another question.

“By the way, Grandfather. Did you also learn martial arts from my father’s grandfather—my great-grandfather?”

[Initially, yes. But it’s not clear how far back this tradition goes. There are records that our ancestors used various weapons. Not just axes, but swords, shields, bows, spears, blunt weapons, and so on. They wielded numerous weapons with mastery.]

“It’s hard enough to master just one…”

[Back then, war was rampant, and King Morgan was a conquering monarch. If a weapon was damaged, you had to immediately switch to another, so it was natural.]

Indeed, humans at that time probably couldn’t properly handle magic, let alone mana. It was likely similar to the medieval period of my previous life.

Moreover, since most fighting was hand-to-hand combat, it would have been devastating regardless of the weapon used. Even just a muscular giant charging at you would be terrifying.

So through what process did they come to use the axe as their main weapon? Is there some secret in this process?

“So you don’t know when they started using axes?”

[That’s right, but it’s certain it’s been passed down for at least 300 years. We taught martial arts to the Beastkin King Hick.]

“Ah, I see… Wait, what?”

Did I hear that correctly? I was about to nod and move on, but I couldn’t help but be startled.

And I wasn’t the only one—the others had similar reactions. Marie and Adelia’s eyes widened, and my father raised an eyebrow.

Unlike Marie and Adelia, my father seemed rather skeptical, but it was clear we all heard the same thing.

Seeing our reactions, Clark went “Huh?” and then expressed his own confusion.

[Why are you all reacting like that?]

“No… did you just say Hick? The first Beastkin King who founded Animus?”

[Yes, that’s right.]

“Someone from our family taught martial arts to him?”

It’s an unbelievable story. Of course, it’s briefly mentioned that Hick, unlike other beastkin, used martial arts and that his weapon was an axe.

For such a brief mention, it’s quite an important record, because at that time, “techniques” were virtually non-existent among beastkin.

As a result, during the racial wars, they were either massacred or enslaved by humans who were technologically advanced.

In that chaotic era, Hick appeared like a comet. A hero who believed that building civilization required basic skills, which came from individual abilities.

He gradually united forces through the beastkin tradition of Holmgang, and eventually established the new civilization of Animus.

[What? Didn’t you say you read a lot of books? You might not know we taught him, but surely you know he learned techniques from humans?]

“There’s no such statement that Hick learned from humans. Even considering that, it’s equally shocking.”

[Is that so? I thought there would be at least a few lines about it, but I guess not.]

“Who told you this?”

[I heard it from my father… I think?]

Clark scratched his skull, seeming uncertain as his memory was hazy. He dropped such a bombshell and yet reacted like this, which was rather deflating.

[Anyway, I was told that our family helped Hick when he was captured as a slave. After that, we just taught him martial arts and went our separate ways.]

“…Hick was a slave?”

[Huh, you didn’t know this either? Is it not officially recorded because it’s too shameful a past?]

“Or maybe your ancestor asked him not to mention their meeting. You said he killed all redheads, right?”

[Ah, that could be it too. Just having a connection with us would have irritated the demon worshippers. Perhaps it’s recorded in personal journals.]

I’m not sure if personal journals would have been preserved intact. Paper-making techniques back then were far inferior to now, making preservation difficult.

Above all, the fact that Hick was a slave is somewhat shocking. If Leona heard this, it would be a great shock to her.

Although she’s only half-beastkin, she takes pride in her race.

“But are you sure Hick was a slave?”

[Why else would we have met? Most of what our family did was freeing slaves. Some of the slaves were meant to be sacrificed.]

“That’s true… but it’s still surprising. It’s hard to believe.”

[Whether you believe it or not, you’ve gained good material, haven’t you?]

How did he know? I flinched slightly at Clark’s words.

The cliché of hiding one’s slave past while rising to a high position is common even in my previous life. If there’s self-reflection in the middle, the immersion in the character increases as a bonus.

And in the final moment, they either reveal they were slaves or use it as proof of something.

“…Still, since this involves a founding king, I think it should be handled carefully.”

[That’s fine. Come to think of it, Leona was it? Why not ask her? She would gladly help you.]

“I’ll think about it. It’s not immediately necessary.”

After that, Clark continued to share many stories as if determined to tell everything he hadn’t been able to before.

Among them were topics I was interested in, as well as some rather old-fashioned ones.

Still, Clark’s storytelling skills were quite good, so it wasn’t boring. Though his life was filled with duty, it wasn’t at all gloomy.

He himself had struggled to shed his burdensome obligations and actually succeeded. Yet he never lost his cheerfulness—he must be mentally very strong.

“How did you view the demon race back then, Grandfather?”

[Honestly, I didn’t think much about it. I was so focused on demon worshippers that race didn’t matter. Besides, demons rarely came out in public back then. I met a few occasionally, but they were all good people.]

“With your strength, why didn’t you try to reveal the truth to the world?”

[No matter how strong an individual is, they become infinitely weak before a collective, my child. Apart from influencing the collective itself, as in my grandson’s books, there was no way to spread the truth.]

With his unparalleled experience, he also gave advice worthy of a sage. Thanks to this, we continued our conversation, losing track of time.

However, when mealtime came, we dispersed briefly. Clark didn’t need to eat, and my father, wanting to talk more with him, moved to the training ground.

Shortly after, vibrations and loud noises erupted from that training ground, but I knew I’d face the aftermath if I went in, so I left them be.

While Adelia and Marie prepared the meal, I waited quietly in the room. Marie didn’t need to help with the meal preparation, but she went anyway.

Finally, I…

“Um… Sir Issac.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Pardon?”

In the room where Ariel was sound asleep, I received an apology from Kate.