Part I

  The Reigi were a warrior clan of the Northern Faction.

  To be born into their bloodline meant one truth above all others: the blade would claim you long before you could choose otherwise. The clan traced its origin to one of the Seven Generals, the King’s most loyal commanders during the founding of the Empire. From that moment on, the name Reigi was written into history through steel, war, and sacrifice.

  In the year 1080, Senya Reigi was born to Kazan and Chisaki Reigi.

  The night of his birth was restless. Snowstorms battered the mountains, wind screaming through the estate as if the land itself had turned to watch. Torches flickered, shadows stretching along the walls.

  “He’s not crying,” one of the midwives whispered, unease tightening her voice.

  Chisaki pulled the child closer to her chest, unfazed. Her breathing was steady, her grip firm.

  “He’s breathing,” she said calmly. “That’s enough.”

  Kazan stood a short distance away, eyes locked on his son. The infant’s fingers were clenched tightly around a fold of cloth, his grip far stronger than it should have been, as though instinct itself had already shaped his hands.

  “…He really is one of us,” Kazan murmured.

  The elders would later speak of that night in low voices, careful not to name their fears aloud. Yet Senya was never treated as a curse, nor as an omen.

  When one elder finally warned, “A child born like this invites bloodshed,”

  Chisaki answered without hesitation, “Then he will first learn love, so he knows what he fights for.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  And so Senya’s early years were not forged in cold discipline.

  Kazan trained him slowly, patiently. He never pressed a blade into the boy’s hands before his time.

  “Strength can wait,” he would say, resting a hand on Senya’s head. “Your heart comes first.”

  Laughter filled halls once ruled by silence. Senya grew wrapped in warmth, taught kindness alongside courage. He was raised not as a weapon, but as a child.

  Still, even in peace, destiny waited.

  The blade had not forgotten him.

  Part II

  When Senya turned seven, the blade was finally placed in his hands.

  Even Kazan could not stand against the laws of the Reigi Clan.

  That morning, frost coated the courtyard stones. Senya stood barefoot against the cold, a wooden practice sword trembling slightly in his grip. Kazan knelt before him, adjusting his stance with careful hands.

  “From today onward,” his father said quietly, “your life will be tied to this blade.”

  Senya looked up at him. “Even if I don’t want it?”

  Kazan hesitated, just for a moment.

  Then he answered honestly. “Especially then.”

  And so began Senya’s life beside the sword.

  To the Northern Faction, Kazan Reigi was a feared warrior, a man whose name carried weight on the battlefield. To Senya, he was simply his Sensei.

  The same commands echoed through the yard, day after day.

  “Feet steady.” “Don’t rush your strike.” “Listen to the blade.”

  Years passed beneath snow and steel.

  By the time Senya turned ten, whispers followed him wherever he trained.

  “He learns too fast.” “His cuts are too clean for his age.” “He might surpass his father.”

  The elders watched. They said nothing.

  And then

  The day finally arrived.