18

Bared Teeth (1)

“Yes. Hast thou had enough?”

Hugo Les Baskerville.

He summoned Vikir to his office as he emerged from his study.

He had cleared his schedule to the point of waiting for Bikir’s arrival, and he was obviously looking forward to it.

Aside from his first and second sons, Bikir had never seen him care so much about his children.

But that’s no reason to get excited or panic. The Vikir of his past life had been almost as old as Hugo now.

“A little bit.”

“Ho-ho.”

Hugo’s eyes light up.

He’s only been in the library for a day, and he can’t possibly have gained anything.

Most of the other Baskervilles his age are just getting their feet wet with mana and haven’t even had a chance to play a real game yet.

Under such circumstances, what could a child of only eight years of age possibly get out of seeing a high-level sword book?

But Hugo looked at the son in front of him, who he didn’t even know how many times he’d been born, with an unexplained sense of anticipation that even he didn’t know the source of.

“What did you feel and understand in the library?”

“It was, um…… warm, and…… pointy, and…… sharp, and…… squishy, and…… squishy? Something like that.”

“…….”

Hugo ran a hand through his hair for a moment.

A child’s answer is always hard to understand.

But could it be the intuition of a master? Hugo suddenly understood something in Vikir’s string of words.

“……No way.”

Hugo shook his head weakly, even as he muttered to himself.

Aura.

A sign that one had truly entered the world of swords.

A realm that no ordinary swordsman would ever enter, not even in death.

A level that even the prodigies of Ironblade Baskerville could only reach at the age of fifteen by training nonstop.

That is the realm of the ‘Sword Expert Beginner’.

Hugo frowned once more.

A child of only eight years old. What was he expecting now?

And yet.

Hugo couldn’t take his eyes off his son’s Maalgan face in front of him.

What if.

The anticipation of what might be made Hugo impatient and forced him to open his mouth.

“Can you show this father what …… it is?”

All humans in Baskerville are reluctant to reveal their true prowess to one another.

It’s almost instinctive, even among parents and siblings.

That’s why Hugo chooses a cautious tone, even when dealing with his 8-year-old son.

But Hugo’s worries are dispersed so easily by Bikir’s cheerful answer.

“Of course.”

* * *

Baskerville Street’s performance hall.

A small child stands alone in the center of this wide-open plain, surrounded by a crowd of people.

Vikir’s eyes are closed as he holds a short sword long enough to match his size.

When Hugo decides to test Bikir’s level, a crowd of people flock to the stage to watch the spectacle.

“Did he say he was underwater for seven minutes in the Styx?”

“Well, he strangled two venomous snakes in their cradles.”

“And for this practical, he’s captured a Cerberus.”

Surprisingly, Hugo didn’t deter the onlookers.

He just stares at Vikir in the center of the stage.

Deacon Barrymore, standing beside Hugo, asked.

“My lord. How do you plan to test your master’s skills?”

“I plan to pit him against a …… worthy fiend.”

Hugo’s eyes were cold.

To unleash a demon against a mere eight-year-old.

Next. Vikir’s test animal arrived.

The creature brought by the Guardian Knights was a large, green-skinned monster.

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