The World Has Become Kinder to Her

*Side Story: The Sword That Lost Its Meaning*  

What’s the point of being the strongest swordsman or knight in the empire when you can’t protect anything with the sword in your hand? It’s a useless power—a sword that has lost its meaning.  

***  

Kenneth’s mother, Ariel, was the epitome of a traditional noblewoman. She was raised gracefully in a prestigious count family and married into the Marquisate of Zahard through an arranged marriage.  

She obeyed her father in her youth and, after marriage, obeyed her husband. Just as she had been taught, and just as society expected.  

The Marquis of Zahard was neither a good nor a bad husband to her.  

Like many noblemen who entered arranged marriages, he acknowledged her as the lady of the house but neither treated her with affection nor took any particular care of her.  

Two years after their marriage, the couple had a son.  

Ariel was overjoyed, feeling she had fulfilled her duty as the mistress of a noble house. The moment she laid eyes on her newborn son, she fell in love with him.  

It was incredible to think that such a small, lovely being had come from her own body and into the world.  

But the Marquis of Zahard was different. Just as he was indifferent to his wife, he was equally indifferent to his son, Kenneth, who carried his bloodline.  

Kenneth thought his father’s indifference was only natural—  

Until his mother fell ill and passed away, and the fallen Baron’s daughter, his father’s first love, entered the Marquisate with a boy two years older than Kenneth.  

On that day, Kenneth saw his father smile like a different person—toward his new wife, Ellen, and his half-brother, Kallian.  

Kenneth had to watch as the traces of his mother gradually disappeared under Ellen’s influence.  

Except for the few keepsakes given to him, all of her belongings were discarded, and the servants who had come to the Marquisate with her were dismissed.  

People are selfish and tend to follow the current, so the attitudes of the servants soon shifted.  

The presence of the boy, who had been treated as the only heir to the Marquisate of Zahard not long ago, began to fade.  

Furthermore, when Ellen and Kallian started to oppress Kenneth, his life at the Marquisate became even more difficult.  

“After all, Lian is the eldest, so you should give up the room you’re using.”  

First, he was expelled from the room traditionally used by the eldest son of the Marquis family.  

The quality of food and other provisions given to him also declined.  

The servants and maids began to show disrespectful attitudes toward him.  

The few knights who had shown Kenneth any favor were soon dismissed from the Zahard household.  

It wasn’t long before even Kuslan, the Sword Expert who had come to the Marquisate with his mother and was Kenneth’s fencing teacher, seemed to turn away from him.  

Though he guided Kallian with great respect and detailed swordsmanship instruction, Kuslan was particularly harsh with Kenneth.  

“If you can’t even cut down those dogs, you won’t be able to cut down anything in real combat.”  

While Kallian trained in elegant, aristocratic swordsmanship, Kenneth had to learn practical swordsmanship, the kind usually taught to commoners.  

In the name of “real combat training,” Kenneth had to cut and stab innocent dogs, and for the first time, he wanted to give up the sword.  

As the son of a martial family, he had held a sword since childhood, dreaming of its graceful movements. But in the end, wielding a sword meant taking the life of another.  

The young boy hesitated, caught between admiration and reality. He didn’t want to harm a life that couldn’t even put up resistance.  

“If you can’t even manage this, give up wielding a sword.”  

Kuslan spoke as if passing a death sentence. In a family like the Zahards, renowned for their martial prowess, giving up the sword was no trivial matter.  

A child who was neither loved by his father nor useful. Kenneth instinctively knew what the outcome would be.  

“…No. I can do it.”  

With trembling hands, Kenneth gripped the sword once again. At the very least, killing them in one stroke would be the most merciful thing he could do.  

He cut down the puppies, who looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.  

Chasing after even those that tried to escape, he killed them all. Their blood splattered onto Kenneth’s face like a curse.  

“You did well. The sensation of cutting a person on the battlefield isn’t much different from this.”  

It was his first time killing with a sword. The feeling of killing a helpless, defenseless creature was horrifying.  

For a while, Kenneth couldn’t eat raw or any kind of meat at all.  

Even during meals or as he lay down to sleep, the image of the puppies’ black eyes haunted him.  

At a time when he needed proper nutrition and rest, Kenneth could neither eat properly nor sleep well, and he grew thinner by the day.  

Though physically exhausted, it was his mind that was truly on the brink of collapse.  

“Where is your focus? If you’d allowed that attack in real combat, you’d be dead.”  

There wasn’t a single person to console his weary mind. Instead, Kuslan only intensified his training, pushing Kenneth further.  

Holding himself together in a place that was no different from enemy territory—it was a difficult task even for an adult, but the boy managed to barely control himself.  

‘I had no choice. I have to survive.’  

In exchange, Kenneth lost his once-vibrant expressions.  

Kenneth’s sword, which had cut down the innocent puppies, grew sharper. His sword now carried a dangerous aura, a killing intent that was hard to find in the swords wielded by the other young noblemen.  

By the time Kenneth turned eleven, he was able to engage in live sword duels with the family knights.  

At first, the Marquis of Zahard welcomed Kenneth’s skill, which was beyond his years.  

However, the marquis’s wife, jealous of Kenneth’s achievements, whispered insidiously in his ear, and that initial approval quickly vanished.  

“I’m happy to see Kenneth’s accomplishments, but I’m a little concerned.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“Oh, it’s nothing. He’s still a child, so I’m sure it will get better with time.”  

“Don’t hide it—speak clearly.”  

“I think he resents me and Lian. It’s understandable, considering I came into the house not long after his mother passed. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have the virtue to embrace him properly…”  

“Ellen.”  

“I didn’t notice it before, but lately, as his skills have improved, I’ve felt more and more frightened by the way he looks at me. Lian seems troubled too. He says Kenneth uses lethal strikes during their sparring matches, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to block them without getting hurt.”  

“That brat! I praised him for improving a little, and this is what I get? Don’t worry, Ellen. I’ll give him a proper lesson and discipline.”  

As a human being, Kenneth couldn’t view Ellen and Kallian kindly.  

But his duels with Kallian were rare, and in those few matches, Kenneth had never used lethal force.  

He didn’t need to—his superior skill already overwhelmed his half-brother.  

The Marquis of Zahard, however, blindly trusted his beloved wife’s words and scolded Kenneth for wrongs he hadn’t committed, even resorting to corporal punishment.  

The men of the Zahard family had always been known for their fiery temper, and unlike his father, Kenneth had a temperament that suited this family perfectly.  

Kenneth refused to admit to wrongs he hadn’t committed, standing firm against his father’s orders to apologize.  

He also never showed signs of yielding, despite the constant slander and persecution from his stepmother and half-brother.  

This deepened the already strained relationship between the Marquis of Zahard and Kenneth.  

His father no longer saw him as a son but as an obstacle standing in the way of the eldest son he cherished.  

As a result, at the young age of thirteen, Kenneth was sent to the battlefield under the pretense of being the family’s representative.  

A boy who looked too young and too weak. A boy who seemed half-abandoned by the Zahard family.  

On the battlefield, the boy became a target of mockery and disdain, rather than one of respect. Even the knights who had accompanied him from the Zahard household weren’t particularly invested in protecting their young master.  

In a brutal battlefield where you would die if you couldn’t stand on your own, Kenneth’s swordsmanship began to bloom more and more brilliantly.

Humans are creatures of adaptation. On the day Kenneth killed his first enemy, he was deeply shocked.  

But perhaps because he had already experienced killing defenseless creatures, like the puppies, this time he was able to recover more easily.  

‘I had no choice. I have to survive.’  

The need to survive became the strongest excuse and justification for his actions.  

For a moment, Kuslan’s face flashed in his mind, reminding him of his harsh words: if he couldn’t kill the puppies, he should lay down his sword. But then the memory faded.  

Time passed. The will to live proved resilient.  

The boy who wandered the battlefield grew into a tall, imposing man. His name gradually began to be known among the soldiers and knights.  

At seventeen, the age when one is officially recognized as an adult, Kenneth graduated first in his knightly examination and was assigned to the empire’s First Knight Order.  

As a full-fledged knight, Kenneth could now fully showcase his abilities.  

His sword grew faster and more ruthless, and whether facing human enemies or monsters, he showed no mercy to any designated as his foe.  

Though young, Kenneth’s decisive and lethal strikes earned him a reputation for having a heart of ice.  

People whispered about him, claiming he had no compassion.  

But Kenneth offered no excuses.  

Having experienced the hardships of life at the Marquis of Zahard’s residence, he had learned that the words of the powerless were meaningless.  

Only Kenneth knew of the eating disorders and insomnia he suffered as a result of the trauma from killing people.  

As his swordsmanship neared perfection, his mind and heart withered like a barren wasteland. He was exhausted, so much so that even breathing felt like a chore.  

At times, he wondered if death would bring him peace. By then, eating, sleeping, and even wielding his sword had become little more than habits, ingrained into his body.  

It was around this time that the Southern Monster Subjugation began.  

Suddenly, in the fertile southern lands of the empire, monsters began to multiply abnormally.  

The most likely cause was the birth of a mutant in the monsters’ food chain, or perhaps a monster had consumed a mana stone or a wizard and evolved into a king, forming a horde.  

If the monsters weren’t dealt with quickly, the southern plains would be devastated, and many imperial citizens would suffer from a food shortage. The emperor ordered a large-scale subjugation.  

Knights were drawn from six imperial knight orders, and wizards were dispatched from the mage tower.  

Each noble family was also required to send private soldiers and knights.  

At nineteen, Kenneth participated in the subjugation as a knight of the First Knight Order and as the representative of the Zahard family.  

Since joining the First Knight Order, he had been staying at the imperial palace barracks, and it was there that he saw Kuslan for the first time in a long while, looking somewhat thinner.  

‘I suppose he’s been doing well.’  

Kuslan, who had trained both Kallian and Kenneth, was among the top thirty knights in the capital, so it was likely he had been treated well by the Marquis of Zahard.  

After a brief glance at Kuslan, Kenneth dismissed him from his thoughts.  

“The scale of this subjugation is the fifth largest in history. As long as you follow orders and don’t break formation, you won’t end up as food for the stupid monsters.”  

The commanders said things like this throughout the expedition, trying to reassure the soldiers and the younger knights.  

But Kenneth felt nothing but disdain for such words.  

A large subjugation force meant only one thing: the monsters were either very strong or far too numerous.  

There was no way this subjugation wouldn’t be dangerous.