The opponent I faced in the mansion's garden was my younger sister.
A perfect existence.
If someone truly blessed by the gods existed, I believed that person would be someone like my sister.
(Why did it come to this?)
I was breathing heavily, gripping my one-handed saber with both hands. The tip of the blade was trembling.
It wasn't just fatigue. Terror itself was manifesting in the edge.
"Hah... hah..."
The saber in my hands was real. The rapier my sister held was also real. Facing each other armed with weapons — it was insane.
Yet the one who had challenged me to this duel was without a doubt my sister.
Wearing a dress and gazing at me with an expression of disinterest, my sister spoke.
"Will you keep going, dear brother?"
She called me "dear brother," but normally she wouldn't even say my name. She'd refer to me as "that person" or "that thing."
But no one around her ever reprimanded her for it.
My sister wore an off-white dress and red shoes. Despite the fact that we were clashing swords in the garden, she didn't have a single drop of sweat — unlike me.
She looked as if she'd just finished getting dressed to go out somewhere. The rapier she held in her hand was a masterpiece crafted by a renowned artisan.
It was adorned with decorations, and embedded in its hilt was a yellow Jewel. A Jewel — a special item that could activate Skills, something that could no longer be created.
The rapier with that Jewel embedded was classified as a magical sword — a type of Mana Tool. It was worth a fortune; even a hundred gold coins wouldn't buy it.
Despite holding a rapier that didn't match her dress at all, my sister's posture was impeccable.
My sister, turning thirteen this year, swept back her long, wavy blonde hair. Her appearance was hauntingly beautiful — far beyond what her age would suggest.
Her blue eyes gazed at me coldly.
A chill ran down my spine.
I was scared. I wanted to run away. But I couldn't.
"Not yet. It's not over yet!"
Suppressing my terror by force, I stepped forward.
The swordsmanship I had honed gave me the confidence that I wouldn't lose to even an adult.
House Walt — the baron's household I was set to inherit. I had been raised strictly since childhood for that purpose. I had confidence in my swordsmanship as well.
But —
"Ugh, you're slow."
Once upon a time, I too had been lauded as a genius, a prodigy. I had worked desperately hard to meet my parents' and family's expectations.
All of that effort meant nothing in front of my sister, who was two years younger.
My sister was a girl. She hadn't spent time being taught advanced sword techniques — it was considered unnecessary. She only knew the basics: how to hold a sword and how to swing it.
And yet, I couldn't beat her.
"What — !"
After countless exchanges, my body was covered in shallow wounds. I thought I was striking her down, but my sister dodged with minimal movement every time.
At the same time, the rapier blade — flexible as a whip — left cuts on my cheek, my arm, and my stomach.
"That makes three fatal blows I've given you just now, Lyle."
Smiling as she spoke my name, my sister was Celeste Walt.
If someone truly blessed by the gods existed, everyone would think it was the sister standing before me. But the person Celeste truly despised was me.
Having my attacks deflected and my feet swept, I tumbled onto the grass.
My body was covered in blood, and my clothes were drenched in sweat.
My blue hair stuck to my cheeks, but I couldn't worry about that now. As I rose, her red shoes lunged toward my face.
"Guh!"
I blocked with my arm, but I couldn't fully absorb the impact. My body was sent flying before I crashed and rolled along the ground again.
"How pathetic."
"Yes, honestly... it's embarrassing to think of this one as our son."
At the end of my roll, my father and mother stood there.
The household retainers surrounded us, but not a single one offered me words of encouragement.
(Father... Mother... why...)
I felt like crying. Holding back the pain, I stood up and turned around. Celeste was smiling as she looked at me.
"What's wrong? Is that all you've got, Lyle?"
She deliberately called me by my name to taunt me.
"Really, Celeste barely received any sword training at all, and yet — "
"It's only natural that House Walt's heir should be Celeste."
My parents' words were directed at my back.
They said things like this now, but they used to be kind. The saber I now gripped had originally been prepared for me by my parents.
"Lyle, you're a man of House Walt. You need to carry a first-rate weapon."
"It suits you, Lyle. As expected of our son."
They had smiled warmly at me — until I was ten years old.
After that, my parents began to dote exclusively on my sister, Celeste. They had probably lost interest in me around that time.
It wasn't just my family, either.
The retainers in the mansion were the same.
Those who had treated me as the next head of the household began treating my sister Celeste as if she were the rightful heir.
I was talked about behind my back and told over and over that I was unfit to lead.
Until I turned ten, both the retainers and the territory's people had said they were looking forward to me becoming the head.
But things were different now. This was reality.
"With this, Lady Celeste becomes the head."
"Really, there was no need for all this. They could've just kicked him out."
"As if there was ever a chance he could beat Lady Celeste. What an idiot."
Frustration brought tears to my eyes.
(What did I do? Why does she hate me so much?)
Celeste was my sister. It wasn't like I disliked her. That was why I had treated her as a brother should.
But perhaps Celeste had taken issue with that?
"Oh my, are you crying? How truly pathetic."
Celeste giggled, looking thoroughly entertained.
"Why are you doing this!? What did I ever do to you!?"
When I raised my voice, Celeste's smile turned to a blank expression.
"...You're noisy. It doesn't concern you. You don't matter whether you're here or not. It's just that you've become an eyesore, so I'm having you removed."
"You — what are you — "
Then, Celeste raised her left arm and pointed at me.
(She's going to use magic!?)
By the time I realized it, my parents and the retainers who had been standing behind me were already moving — having watched Celeste's gesture.
They were condoning her attack on me.
"Damn it! Ice Wall!"
A wall of ice appeared before my eyes.
It was a water-attribute magic spell — an improvised shield. It was one of the more difficult spells, but it manifested large enough to cover me entirely.
I had never neglected my magical training. Whether praised or not — just wanting my parents to turn and look at me — I had trained myself relentlessly.
It wasn't just the sword. Magic, horsemanship, knowledge... but all of it was probably worthless in front of the being before me.
"Fire Bullet."
Celeste, confident and composed, began her incantation once I had finished preparing.
It was a fire-attribute spell — the polar opposite of mine — and in terms of difficulty, it was barely a beginner's spell. But it was highly practical. A spell that simply fired a ball of flame.
Yet the thick wall of ice I had created was being easily whittled away by the fire projectile.
And it wasn't just one shot.
From Celeste's fingertips, a single spell cast launched hundreds of shots. Each one carried considerable power, and my magic should have had the elemental advantage.
But the result was that I couldn't even win against Celeste's beginner spell.
"Damn — Earth Hand!"
From the ground around me, four arms made of earth sprouted up. Following my will, they lunged at Celeste.
"Boring."
Celeste smirked and, with the rapier in her hand, sliced through all the earthen arms. A rapier was primarily a thrusting weapon, yet she used one to easily cleave through magic.
"Earth Bullet!"
To overwhelm her with numbers, I cast the next spell. Stones were fired from the ground like bullets, shredding the lawn.
But I had no room to worry about that now.
"Shield."
Without changing her expression, still smiling, Celeste chanted a spell. A simple wall of magic completely blocked my Earth Bullet.
It wasn't on Celeste's level, but I had fired dozens of shots. And not a single one got through.
(No more mana left. I have to go all in here...)
I knew there was no chance of winning. But I had to fight.
Otherwise, I would be thrown out of the house without having done anything.
It had all started with Celeste's words.
"Father, brother turns fifteen this year and becomes an adult. Why don't we hold a contest to determine House Walt's next head?"
Normally, the eldest son would inherit.
But my parents agreed that Celeste was right and allowed the match between us.
"The loser leaves the house. That's acceptable, isn't it, brother?"
This was how the duel against Celeste — who hated me, or at least found me detestable — had begun.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been unthinkable.
A girl inheriting the household was not unheard of, but it was always under special circumstances — as a proxy, or in a household where there simply were no male heirs.
House Walt had always been led by male heads. Since the first generation who had led the pioneer settlement, the direct male line had always inherited.
It was a house with over two hundred years of history.
And yet, both my father and my mother had agreed to Celeste's terms and approved this contest against me, their eldest son.
"Celeste — someone like you won't — !"
I lunged forward and swung at Celeste with everything I had. I was striking with full force at my delicate-looking younger sister.
From a third party's perspective, I was undoubtedly the villain. But somewhere inside, I knew. The results of thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of practice swings were channeled into that slash.
A single, powerful strike — if it landed, it would cleave Celeste in two.
— Yes, *if* it landed.
The footwork was good. The slash was the best I could produce.
But my attack never reached Celeste.
She shifted her body sideways to dodge the vertical slash, then bent her rapier like a whip and struck back. She carved shallow wounds into me again and again, as if toying with me.
But this couldn't be how it ended.
"Not yet!"
Forcing through the missed slash that had embedded itself in the ground, I released my left hand and swung upward. The slash traced a V-shape through the air.
Celeste's eyes went wide.
That was my hidden move.
A technique I had secretly practiced, one that had never quite reached Celeste's level. But the blade caught the hem of her dress and tore it open.
(It reacted to even that?)
It was meant to be my killing blow, but Celeste's reaction speed was beyond that. Still — even if it was just the edge of her dress — I had reached her.
(I can reach her. My sword can reach Celeste!)
From the outside, an older brother getting serious against his little sister must have looked pathetic. But if the opponent was Celeste, it meant something to me.
Just seeing her beautiful face twist with humiliation was worth it. We both leaped back, and panting hard, I curled the corner of my mouth into a grin.
It was my best effort. Right now, this was all I could do.
"What's wrong, Celeste?"
She had lowered her gaze, her face expressionless, and she was trembling. She must have been frustrated. How many times had I seen Celeste — my little sister — genuinely look this vexed?
"...Don't say my name. It's disgusting."
"...Huh?"
When I came to my senses, Celeste was no longer in front of me. Instead, her voice came from behind me.
I turned — and Celeste's fist was right before my eyes.
(W-what...?)
There was no pain. But before I knew it, my saber had slipped from my hands and I was sent flying. In the slow-motion blur of everything around me, Celeste alone appeared to be moving normally.
She approached, then kicked me upward with her red shoe.
Looking down at me as I hung in the air, Celeste was preparing to cast a spell.
(No good — she'll kill me!)
I tried to conjure a defensive spell immediately, but the spell Celeste released was a high-difficulty one. It required considerable magical power from its caster.
She was genuinely trying to kill me.
"Fire Storm."
Hearing her flat, emotionless words, I cast my own.
"Water Ball!"
Squeezing out every last bit of power, I deployed the spell around myself. A storm of flames erupted, engulfing me, trying to burn me alive.
I cast a spell to counter, but I had no idea if it would be enough.
With that spell, I knew she was truly trying to kill me.
"Are — are you that threatened by me, Celeste!?"
I screamed as I collapsed to the ground. The impact rippled through my body, and pain finally surged through every part of me.
Combined with the pain I hadn't felt until now, I writhed on the ground. And then my saber clattered down in front of me.
Its blade was stuck into the earth, slightly reddened by the heat of the flames.
If I grabbed it, I'd definitely be burned. But I reached out anyway.
I couldn't think about anything anymore — I just didn't want to let it go. That saber felt like the last connection I had to my parents.
"A-ah..."
The people around me simply watched, making no effort to help. Some even laughed as they looked at me crawling miserably on the ground.
The only one walking toward me was Celeste, a contemptuous smile on her face.
"Serves you right. Though, I'm surprised you're still alive."
With that, she took the saber I had reached for and shredded it before my eyes. Whether from the heat or from Celeste's arm, the saber was sliced apart as if it were paper rather than metal.
My outstretched hand fell emptily to the ground.
I grabbed the grass, tears streaming down my face as I looked up. Twirling her hair with her left hand, Celeste wore a broad, beaming smile.
"That was your favorite, wasn't it? What a shame."
Celeste looked down at me with clear enjoyment. But when I heard my parents' voices, I turned.
"Celeste, that's enough. Your dress is ruined. Let's go buy you a new one today."
"That sounds lovely, my dear."
My injuries, my burns, my battered body — no one was looking. I was already being treated as if I didn't exist.
"W-wait! Father! Mother!"
I forced out the words, reaching out my hand. But my parents only spared me a single glance. And even that look — it was as if they were staring at something filthy.
Then I slammed my forehead into the ground.
I screamed, and wept without caring about anyone around me.
I don't know how long passed, but it didn't take long for me to lose consciousness. I remembered wailing on the lawn, but when I came to, I was in a bed.
My entire body was wrapped in bandages. Someone had treated my wounds.
"Who could have... Father? No, that's impossible."
Even as I said it myself, I knew my father would never have helped me. His parting attitude made that obvious — but more than that, this place wasn't the mansion.
Staring up at the wooden-plank ceiling, I realized this wasn't my home.
Who had saved me? As I pondered this, I turned my aching neck to survey my surroundings.
A wooden house — more like a small cabin — and I turned my gaze back to the ceiling. I was awake, but my body still craved sleep.
Besides, I didn't want to think about anything right now.
(Was I... abandoned?)
The thought of being abandoned by my parents brought Celeste's face to mind. Her contemptuous grin — mocking me.
Just then.
"...? Who's there?"
I was struck by a strange sensation — not quite voices, but something that felt like it was speaking directly to me.
"Nobody's here, right?"
There were no signs of anyone nearby. I closed my eyes, assuming I was imagining things.
I didn't know who it was, but someone had treated my wounds. I wanted to at least get some sleep to recover my strength. My body felt heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to rest.
(I don't want to think about anything right now...)
A short time after I closed my eyes, I heard voices.
'Hey, hey — did someone actually show up? It's definitely someone!'
Not so much cheerful as rough, the voice came through loud and clear. I heard the booming, cackling laugh of someone.
(W-who is it? Could it be the person who saved me?)
But my voice didn't seem to reach them. And for some reason, I felt drained — as if my mana were being sucked away.
'Father, please be quiet for a moment.'
This time, a slightly weary male voice spoke.
(Multiple people? And something feels off...)
I couldn't speak. Nor could I convey my thoughts to them.
'You should understand how Grandpa feels, Father. After all, this is the first conversation. And it's with a direct descendant nearby — definitely carrying our blood.'
This time, the cheerful voice returned.
(Three people? No, there might be more...)
It wasn't so much voices as presences — it didn't feel like just three.
'I totally get how Grandpa feels~! Let's calm down and examine the situation first.'
A new voice chimed in. "Grandpa" — were they family? But all of their voices sounded young, not old at all.
'Well, it is the first conversation. But you know, there's a chance he won't notice us at all.'
(That's a new one. Is this the fifth person?)
Then yet another voice spoke up.
'You're being too pessimistic, Dad. More importantly, I want to know what's going on now. I hope he comes to soon... What's wrong, Broad?'
Hearing the name Broad, I was startled.
Because Broad was my grandfather's name.
(I might actually be dead.)
Some part of me thought that might not be so bad. Still, I strained to listen.
'It's my grandson! It's Lyle! There's no mistake — he's my grandson!'
It was unmistakably my grandfather's voice — so much so it made you want to smile. He had always been a bit too soft on his grandchildren, and that feeling came through even in his voice.
Though, it did sound slightly younger than I remembered. Not the raspy, aged voice of an old man.
What was going on? I was wondering when, after a brief pause —
'Wait, seriously!?'
The noisy group all exclaimed in unison.
(...What exactly is going on?)
On this day, my fate began to turn.