The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce - Chapter 59



58 – 58. Sword Ritual (5)

At Rianna’s answer, laced with resolve, Isaac chuckled softly.

Frankly, there were times she was disliked, and even resented, but.

Seeing her, somewhat resolved, didn’t feel too bad.

So, one could say.

It was the satisfaction that, at least once, he had loved a somewhat decent person, fiercely.

“Why, why are you laughing?”

Rianna asked, glancing at Isaac.

He shook his head, and brought up the topic they had just discussed again.

“And Rianna, I’ll go to the Sword Ritual.”

It was now a little past noon.

In 5 or 6 hours, the Sword Ritual would begin.

The Sword Ritual took place not at the manor, but in the mountains behind it.

There, an open plain lay, like an outdoor training ground.

Truth be, it weren’t a plain, not at the start. A thick, choking forest, it was.

But young Arundel, swinging his sword, he smashed all the trees for miles around, making this plain out of the wreck of it.

So it came to pass, after Arundel became head of the house, the Sword Ceremony was always held here.

“It’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

“Lohengrin, he’s serious this time. He means to half- cripple you, uhm, hurt you bad.”

Rianna, near to saying what Lohengrin had said, she quickly swallowed back the rest.

“Your opponent is your mother. No need for you to push yourself.”

“No, I can say I came back to Helmunth for this, from the beginning.”

“Isaac…”

“You know, there’s times when Jonathan and I, rarely, we agree on something?”

Isaac had a soft smile on his face now.

Like that talk they had, the two of them, back on that ferry, same feel to the air.

“It’s when we talk about what makes Helmunth strong, that’s when.”

“…”

“Helmunth’s strength, it’s not just in their born bodies, but because they’ve cast aside everything but the sword.”

Hard to deny that.

Especially Arundel Helmunth, always with that sort of distant, absent air, about anything but swords.

“I want to show them.”

Among the things thrown aside.

“That it’s not something you should let go of so easy.”

Isaac, obsessed with Helmunth more than most.

His gaze flickers down, settling on the lilac, fresh-bloomed, there at their feet.

“See how it still grows, green, amongst the roses, though the season is passed?”

Just like.

“Don’t I look like that?”

A bright, easy smile came over him.

Sword Ceremony.

The place where Helmunth shines, it’s like a garden where only the roses are allowed.

But funny thing is, here, what stands out the most, is this, bold, violet lilac sprung up out of nowhere.

Reaching this point, Rianna decided to back down a little.

“Alright, so you’re confident, right?”

“You said yourself, if you know you’ll win before drawing your sword, why even draw it?”

“……”

He spoke like he had something, but it was obvious he didn’t.

“Isaac, I’m just asking, just in case.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you ever broken through Sharen’s *Jeokgang*?”

“……”

Isaac scratched at his eye with a finger, muttering sheepishly.

“Ah, is it pollen allergies?”

* * *

The back mountain of the Helmunth mansion.

A vast plain, packed with crowds.

Helmunth’s knights stood like a wall, controlling them; they looked like a giant, red building.

That’s how orderly Helmunth’s knights were at managing the throng.

The nobles had their own special seating area, watching from there.

Today was the semi-finals, by the way.

Isaac, the son-in-law, versus Lohengrin, Helmunth’s eldest son.

And Armin, Helmunth’s second son, versus Heyrad.

Heyrad was a princess’s royal guard; rumor had it she had raised him herself from a young age.

But anyway, this was Helmunth.

Most people predicted that the eldest and second son would meet in the finals.

“Oh, oh, oh dear? Ah, ah, Isaac-nim, I’m so nervous!”

Isaac sat silently amongst the crowd.

And beside him, Jonathan was making a fuss.

Each contestant had a Helmunth knight assigned to them as escort, Isaac’s being Jonathan.

Usually, with Jonathan’s level of experience, this would be out of the question, but their closeness was known, so a special exception was made.

“It’s not you fighting, what’s there to be nervous about!”

Sharen snapped, annoyed.

Sharen, who’d been glued to Galenia all day, scurried over to Isaac as the Sword Ordeal was about to start, offering advice.

“Isaac, look at this.”

“Hm?”

Having shoved Jonathan aside, Sharen planted herself in front of Isaac and waved a white towel.

“If it looks like you’re about to actually die, call my name. I’ll throw this towel right away.”

“……And if you throw that, what, it’s over?”

“Wouldn’t it be? Usually in war, when you raise a white flag it’s a sign of surrender. Ah! I’ll wave it like this. Would that work?”

“Hah, just go away.”

For the record, the Sword Ordeal only ended when an opponent was knocked out or rendered completely incapable of fighting.

It was a rather barbaric method, which was also why few people participated.

Helmunt, sure, he was sturdy as hell, so even if he got hurt, he’d recover quickly. And if things got dicey, he could use a Rose Elixir or something.

But other regular people didn’t have Helmunt’s monster-like self-healing or his sturdy physique.

Get in this thing and you could easily end your knightly career.

“But why are you wearing *that*? You should be wearing armor at a minimum, and you come in a coat?”

Sharen smacked her forehead, looking at the new black coat Isaac was wearing.

“Loen Green is going to be furious when he sees this, you know? Thinks you’re making fun of him?”

“Strategic choice.”

Isaac sighed, answering.

“What’s the point of wearing armor? One hit and it’s over anyway. And I can’t dodge.”

“No, that’s-.”

Sharen, about to say something, tilted her head, mumbling.

“Genius?”

“……”

“But what is this design? Did you just pick it up in some market? That’s why you’re no good, Isaac. For appearances-.”

“Rianna gave it to me.”

“……Sister?”

“Yeah, said it was made from a demon she hunted a long time ago. She wanted to give it to me but couldn’t until now.”

“……”

“I heard it was made from a demon’s hide that withstood her Divine Force, so it should be able to withstand Loen Green’s Divine Force to some extent.”

“Sister has better taste than I thought.”

Sharen’s sudden change of subject would usually have drawn a laugh from Isaac, but not now.

Not with Millie, not with Galenia, not with anything.

None of it was something Sharen would welcome.

And so Isaac simply closed his eyes.

Now.

Lohengrin strode onto the plain that could be called a stage.

At that instant, a wave of cheers erupted, salutations sent to the most promising contender to lead Helmont.

The Sword Rite wasn’t conducted by any specific person, like other martial arts tournaments.

Simply, if you were ready, you stepped forward and fought.

A crude method, so very Helmont.

“Ah, Isaac, fighting! Remember! If you call my name, I’ll wave this right away.”

“Sir Isaac, you also defeated Brikala! Please do your best!”

Isaac, buoyed by their cheers, stepped forward.

The rough plain, barely worthy of the name “stage.”

At the far end sat Arundel and Galenia.

And the other Helmont scions.

Among them was Rianna, her hands clasped tightly, looking at Isaac as if in prayer.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Lohengrin laughed softly, looking at Isaac as he stepped forward.

“It’s not like we’re putting on a show for others, or that these people should be swarming here.”

“……”

“This was our everyday.”

Even when he’d beaten Isaac under the guise of sparring, it had felt exactly like this.

Lohengrin might find it tedious, having to perform such an easy act, like twisting the hand of a child, once more.

But, if there was significance to it, then it would feel different.

“After today, living properly will be impossible.”

Lohengrin’s massive greatsword rose high into the sky.

An immense blade that Isaac couldn’t even lift with both hands.

The sight of him wielding it casually with a single hand caused the crowd to gasp and cheer.

“A fine pretext, indeed.”

“……”

“Even a halfwit, bearing the name Helmont, ought to at least feign to wield a greatsword.”

At Isaac’s waist hung two *taedos*.

One, the White Snow, crafted from frost-silver.

The other, a *taedo* salvaged from Antonio’s practice swords, the least pitiful of the lot.

“No matter how brutally I crush you, it shall be justified by the disgrace you bring to the name of Helmont.”

He had not grasped a greatsword, while bearing the name of Helmont.

That alone was enough to exude an aura of disrespect for Helmont, drawing forth jeers concerning his worth.

Yet, Arandel, with no discernible reaction, sat propped on his elbow.

“You’re flaunting just because you slew a single fiend—!”

Loengrin’s greatsword cleaved the sky with a mighty swing.

Simultaneously, an overwhelming surge of *jeokgang* flooded the sunset sky, a torrent of obsessive *tugi* scattering in all directions.

There was no starting signal.

Loengrin’s greatsword, as it was, crashed down.

Despite the vast distance of the greatsword itself, his *jeokgang*, taking the form of a blade, descended to cleave Isaac’s crown.

“……!”

Isaac, lowering his stance, leaped desperately to the side.

The only method to pierce through the *jeokgang* was, for the present, the Great-Jointed Blade.

Believing that, a single strike that had once penetrated even Bricalla’s lightning, could reach, Isaac moved his legs in a flurry.

“Helmont—!”

Loengrin’s eyes, bloodshot, tracked Isaac.

The greatsword, which had been aimed downward, shifted its trajectory, now pursuing Isaac horizontally.

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“—signifies one who faces the fight!”

‘I cannot evade!’

Isaac’s hand immediately flew to the *taedo* at his waist.

He drew not White Snow, but the *taedo*, countering with a *geohap*.

*Kaang!*

“……!”

It wasn’t even the true greatsword but merely the *jeokgang* it was enveloped in that shattered the *taedo* to pieces.

“Hrrk! Oh, what do we do! If that’s gone—!”

Jonathan’s fuss reached my ears, but I had no room to spare for it.

Sacrificing a single blade had only briefly stalled Loengrin’s onslaught, nothing more.

Isaac, biting his lip, didn’t betray any nervousness despite having lost one so quickly, far more quickly than expected.

They were expendable, after all.

The real one was Snow White alone.

It needed to be wielded at the best moment possible-.

“Hah, you damn b*stard.”

Seeing Isaac hesitating to draw his sword properly, Loengrin wore a mocking grin.

“To entrust yourself to a flimsy sword, one that no one’s ever even heard of.”

“……”

“Kaldias has gone mad, using Frost Silver Ore to make a thing like that.”

I didn’t reply.

Every moment he showed such composure gave Isaac a moment to catch his breath.

But, in Loengrin’s eyes, a maniacal contempt was swelling.

“A sword that cut down a demonic beast? Are you aiming for that one swing that shattered your arm?”

“……”

“Disgusting.”

Loengrin scorned Isaac, but he didn’t scorn an opponent in the Sword Master’s Duel.

That was his way of facing the Sword Master’s Duel, and it was also a sign of respect for his father.

How the hell he’d taken down Brikala in the North, what Isaac’s sword was made of, what he was aiming for.

“I’ve got it all figured out.”

Loengrin knew everything.

The greatsword slung over his shoulder.

The anger in his eyes.

“You fool. You’re neither a knight nor a swordsman. You can’t even think of clashing swords properly, you’re just gambling on a lucky break?”

“……”

“To think that killing some dying demonic beast made you believe you were something, that’s just ignorant and common.”

This time, Loengrin emanated red energy from his entire body. The burning flames of contempt were so vicious, they looked as if they would engulf Isaac at any moment.

“To think you believed you could best Helmut with a single blade, how insulting-!”

“Today, even on my knees! Crawling on the floor! Barking like a dog! Nothing will quell my rage-!”

*Whoosh!*

A flash.

Something wedged itself between the two.

*Thwack!*

It was a sword, planted firmly in the ground.

A *Tae-do* never seen before.

Yet, Isaac’s eyes widened as he tracked the sword’s trajectory.

Through the crowd, Silverna waved, a bright smile on her face.

“I couldn’t even participate because of thisss!”

“Silverna…!”

“Go get ‘em! Peeya!”

“……?”

Though he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, Isaac calmly pulled the sword from the ground.

It was hot to the touch.

It throbbed as if alive, the sheer mana contained within overflowing.

Then,

As if recognizing Isaac, it scattered crackling electricity like a howl.

The remains of Bricalla left behind by Rianna.

Isaac’s second *Tae-do*, forged from it.

*Grip.*

Despite the sensation of his palm searing, a smile played on Isaac’s lips.

[A sword shouldn’t be too light, you know!]

Antonius probably grasped Isaac’s intention of making it as light as possible only after making it.

[What kind of sword is this even supposed to be?]

[It’s not a greatsword like Helmut’s, nor is it a typical two-handed sword. It seems he handles it with one hand, but he doesn’t use a shield either.]

Silverna, looking at the textbook Isaac was writing, tilted her head, saying she couldn’t understand.

[It’s like you’re trying too hard to emulate Helmut and it makes the sword seem kind of shoddy.]

[Forget Helmut. Just swing your own sword. Isaac has more than enough talent!]

Through Sharen, Rianna advised against obsessing over Helmunt’s sword.

“Hah.”

Now, he could finally answer their questions, it seemed.

Silently, White Snow is drawn.

A double-bladed greatsword, wieldable, strictly, only when within the sheath.

Until now, he had never drawn it.

But now, it was alright.

Both hands clasp the swords.

Light, yet sturdy, the two blades finally support Isaac, the swordsman.

As a silent sword.

The things he’d written, with an unwavering belief that one day they’d be real, were taking form.

A wind arrives, changing the tide.

A warmth flickers, and suddenly, he wishes Millie could see this.

To him, Millie *was* that warmth.

“Is that all?”

Conversely, Loengrin gritted his teeth, chewing on his anger.

“Two swords? What will that change?!”

“……”

“The name Helmunt -! How far will you look down on it!”

But, Loengrin’s roar did not reach Isaac.

He was busy replaying the swordsmanship within his mind.

A longing, kindled through Rianna Helmunt.

Led by a grandmaster.

A result perfected by inspiration drawn from Arundel Helmunt’s last testament.

As dusk fell.

His dark hair, now touched by the setting sun.

Quickly, his hair is stained red.

Helmunt.

He was, truly, Isaac of Helmunt.