He didn’t even try to hide the satisfaction.
Seeing Dad’s shalessness, Lucas seed to realize what kind of answer was expected of him.
He cleared his throat and continued.
"You are the most talented Rank 5 Exorcist in our generation. People said you had the potential to surpass the current house head. Just your na was enough to strike fear in Exorcists and Cursed Spirits. Even New Order used to fear you."
Dad’s nose rose slightly with each sentence.
Lucas continued, gaining confidence. "Your strength and majesty chard won wherever you went. Even princesses in Wageah chased after you.
"Your talent was so high that even the Sword King himself begged you to be his disciple. He even gifted you one of his prized swords so you would accept—"
"Shh!"
Dad moved instantly.
He grabbed Lucas by the shoulder and pressed a finger against his own lips.
"Lower your voice," he whispered urgently. "Who told you those things?"
Lucas blinked. "Uncle Elias. I gifted him one of my father’s prized wines, and he told how to praise you properly."
The corner of Dad’s eyebrow twitched.
Of course it was Uncle Elias.
Dad glanced nervously toward the house before leaning closer to Lucas.
"Never say those words again. Never. If you want to remain my disciple."
"Oh." Lucas’ eyes widened slightly as he glanced at sitting on the porch. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it in front of him."
"No. He isn’t the problem." Dad’s voice was still low, but now it carried genuine fear. "It’s Lyra. Both of us will be in trouble if you say those words in front of her."
"Huh? Oh. Okay." Lucas nodded, though he clearly didn’t understand why it was so serious.
’It makes sense Lucas isn’t afraid.’
’He’s still a kid himself. He doesn’t understand what happens when you brag about your exes in front of your current girlfriend.’
It was worse when that girlfriend was your wife.
I sighed quietly.
Fortunately, Mom hadn’t heard any of that.
Otherwise, Dad wouldn’t be sleeping in the master bedroom tonight.
He would be sleeping with .
After confirming that Lucas understood, Dad released his shoulder and straightened.
"And don’t say in front of anyone else that the Sword King begged to be his disciple. It can be seen as insulting him. His fanatics might co after both of us," Dad added.
Lucas stiffened.
Even though the Sword King lived in Wageah, his legend had long crossed borders.
On Earth, many Exorcists spoke of him as if he were a deity. A living embodint of the sword.
Claiming that such a man begged soone could easily be taken as mockery.
Lucas nodded quickly. "I understand."
Dad exhaled slowly.
"I’ll teach you sothing important," he said in a more serious tone. "Take it to heart. Stay away from won. The trouble that cos with them isn’t worth it. If you want to beco strong, focus only on that."
Lucas frowned. "It can’t be that serious—"
"I had to give up becoming the Sword King’s disciple because of trouble with won."
Lucas imdiately clamped his mouth shut.
That statent was too absurd to respond to casually.
He clearly wanted to ask what exactly that ant, but Dad’s eyes made it clear that there would be no detailed explanation.
I, however, was sitting on the porch, listening to their whispers perfectly clearly thanks to my high stats.
My expression turned strange.
’You rejected the Sword King’s ntorship because of trouble with won?’
’So I was almost killed by the Sword King because of this stupid reason?’
A rare feeling rose inside .
I was pissed.
It was a sensation than I would mostly suppress, because I could not allow emotions to affect my actions.
But...
For a brief mont, I considered running inside and snitching Mom exactly what they were discussing.
It would be petty.
But satisfying.
As ridiculous as snitching was, it was much better than the vow I had taken in my last life.
[I will kill the bastard who rejected the Sword King’s offer before .]
That had been my vow.
As I had said before, I was talented in martial arts.
Naturally, the Sword King had approached in my previous life.
He had found .
Even now, I didn’t know how.
One day, he simply appeared.
A tall man with calm eyes and a sword that felt heavier than the sky.
He had looked at as if examining a weapon he wished to sharpen.
"Beco my disciple," he had said.
It wasn’t a request. It was a statent.
Under his ntorship, his disciples were required to give up everything else. Magic. Alchemy. chanical knowledge. All secondary paths had to be abandoned.
Only the sword mattered.
For him, the sword was life.
For , it was a tool.
As an assassin, magic and alchemy were far more important than pure martial prowess.
I relied on poison, traps, concealnt, spatial distortions, illusions.
Direct combat was a last resort. A shaful last resort.
So I refused.
Of course I refused.
And then I was almost killed for it.
I still rembered that conversation clearly.
"You don’t want to be my disciple?" he had asked.
"Martial arts are useless for . I’m an assassin. Rather, how did you even find —"
"Wow, is this so new trend?"
I should have stopped there.
I should have left the mont I saw his eyes.
They weren’t furious. They weren’t calm either. They were... focused. Too focused. Like a predator who had already decided what would happen next.
"Do you think it’s easy to beco my disciple?" he continued, ignoring my question entirely. "People bow in front of my dojo for decades in hopes of being chosen."
"Hey, calm down," I had replied cautiously.
"Even my current disciples, who possess heavenly talent in their respective paths, were only accepted after enduring rigorous trials and quests. But here I am, coming to you personally. Lowering myself. Asking you to be my disciple."
"Hey—"
"And you are refusing ?"
I knew sothing was wrong when he stopped listening to , and started monologuing.
My instincts scread at to run. Every nerve in my body was telling to activate my escape tools and disappear.
But back then, I trusted what I saw more than what I felt.
And what I saw was a man whose stance wasn’t aggressive. His aura wasn’t flaring violently. There was no visible killing intent.
So I stayed.
Talking.
"I’m sorry, Sword King Varren, but I—"
"Now that I look at you," he interrupted slowly, "you look just like that little shit who refused before. Damn. This is irritating."
The air changed.
That was all the warning I got.
After that, I had to desperately fight to survive.
Spoilers: I did not escape.
I was beaten.
And then dragged back to his dojo.
He said it was for my own good. Said I would thank him later. Said talent like mine should not be wasted on shadows and poison.
Thankfully, I managed to escape before he destroyed my Mana Heart and sealed my other foundations permanently.
And it was the reason I held a grudge against the person who had rejected him before .
’I thought he was just muttering nonsense when he said I looked like the one who refused him before...’
’But now it’s obvious.’
That person was Dad.
I rubbed my temple as I sat quietly in the courtyard that night.
’Did this man ever think about the consequences of his actions?’
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