Swordmaster’s Youngest Son(Jarden Runcandel)

Jardenn's third sister, Mary Runcandel.

Currently aged 19, she is known around the world as 'Stormwind Mary'.

In the Runcandel Clan's thousand-year-old history, not a single child failed to become a 1-star knight before reaching 14. By 16, most would be 3-star knights, and the average would become a 5-star before the age of 20.

Mary's case was the complete opposite of the past Jin.

She exceeded the Runcandel Clan's norm. While Jin became a 1-star knight at 25 years old, she achieved the same feat at 12 and was already a 5-star knight at 16.

Moreover, she was currently a 6-star knight.

Despite not being 20 yet, she reached a stage that most people around the world could only dream of attaining.

By exceeding the Runcandel norm, the word 'genius' that applied to all Runcandels could no longer do justice to her and her achievements.

Regardless of her talents, Mary was one of the few people who had shown goodwill and compassion towards Jin in his previous life.

'She may have a screw or two loose in her head, but she's given me an incredible gift. I was just starting to get frustrated by my slow growth speed.'

One month has passed since Cyron left the Storm Castle.

The corridors of Storm Castle sweltered.

Heat pulsed like a living thing from the kitchen. Even the stone walls shimmered faintly, scorched by the volatile essence of the Phoenix Heart. That scent—sweet, rich, primal—had invaded every corner of the estate.

Jarden watched steam rise past the windows, noting the flame glyphs Utahame had discreetly etched in the hallway to temper the heat. It wasn't enough. The castle felt like it was breathing fire.

And all for a single dish.

A gift from Lady Mary.

In the study, Jin paced.

He had been patient—for a month. An entire lunar cycle spent watching the simmering rituals unfold under Gilly's supervision. But the wait hadn't dulled the excitement in his eyes.

Utahame entered silently, followed by Jarden.

"You should sit," she said gently. "The heart's final infusion has begun. There's no need to erupt before the flame finishes its work."

Jin chuckled. "What, I'm not allowed anticipation?"

"You're not allowed combustion," Jarden murmured, brushing past to lean against the bookshelf.

Jin turned to him. "You know what the Phoenix Heart does, right?"

Jarden nodded. "More than Gilly. Less than you. Enough to know it's not just food."

Utahame poured herbal tea into clay cups. "The Phoenix Heart magnifies flame resistance. But only in children. That's why it's so rare. Only a few survive long enough to be gifted it. Even fewer are strong enough to digest it."

Jin sat, shoulders relaxing.

"Gilly said it's priceless."

Jarden raised a brow. "It is. But Mary gave it away like it was nothing."

"She wants me strong," Jin muttered. "Healthy. Prepared."

"She also wants you watched," Jarden added. "The stronger you get, the more eyes turn."

Jin didn't argue.

Later that evening, the kitchen doors opened.

Gilly's voice trembled with joy. "Young Master, within a couple of hours, you'll finally be able to eat the heart. Good job waiting patiently until now."

Jin nodded, feigning innocence.

"Really? What a gift."

Jarden glanced sideways.

He knows everything about it. He's just playing the part.

Utahame whispered, more to herself than to them, "This will mark the first transformation."

Jarden said nothing aloud. But he felt it in his bones.

Jin's body would grow stronger.

Jarden's mind was already racing ahead.

And Storm Castle, scorched and silent, would watch both.

Jarden POV

The scent was overwhelming now.

Spice, ash, and something older—something that didn't belong to a kitchen. The Phoenix Heart had reached its final phase, and even the marble floors beneath Storm Castle radiated heat.

Jin paced, energy restless in his limbs.

"Phoenixes…" he muttered.

Utahame, folding incense cloths near the hearth, didn't look up.

But her voice pierced gently through the steam.

"Phoenixes are the memory of fire."

Jin tilted his head. "Memory?"

Utahame turned slowly, her hands warm but unburned.

"They do not die. Not truly. They burn through themselves, leaving behind their own echo—then return when the world forgets what they once were."

She stepped toward Jin, placing her palm near the sealed pot.

"Even when their bodies are devoured, their hearts return. One hundred years later. In silence."

Jin blinked.

He remembered studying the legend as a magician.

"I read that too," he said. "Only the summoner never lives long enough to see the rebirth."

Jarden spoke up from the corner, arms folded.

"Which means the phoenix doesn't return for its master. It returns for itself."

Jin turned to his brother, brow slightly raised.

"That's… insightful."

Jarden shrugged. "Just logic. Rebirth isn't a reward—it's inevitability."

Utahame's eyes lingered on Jarden for a moment longer than usual.

Then back to Jin.

"Consume the heart carefully," she whispered. "It remembers more than you think."

Jin smirked, masking the emotion bubbling within.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure my next phoenix stays mine."

Jarden said nothing.

He had heard everything.

More than Jin realized.

And tonight, when the flame burned deepest...

His blade would whisper.

Jarden POV

The smell of Phoenix Heart soup was everywhere.

Fragrant, fiery, and unnaturally rich—it clung to the halls, curled around the rafters, and made even the carved stone seem warmer. The Storm Castle hadn't felt this alive in years.

Jarden leaned against the pillar just outside Jin's chamber, watching the Tona twins fidget near the doorway.

They were drooling. Literally.

He smirked faintly.

In their past lives, those two had been ravenous predators—always swiping, pushing, tormenting. But now, they were squirming under their brother's gaze like frightened puppies.

Jin spotted them and beckoned.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly, despite already knowing the answer.

Daytona and Haytona hesitated, stammering through excuses.

"The Phoenix… Isn't there… a bit too much to eat on your own?"

Jin leaned back, grinning. "Can't hear you."

"The soup… just one bowl. Please?"

"We're begging you…"

Even Jarden raised an eyebrow.

They fear Emma more than him now. That's new.

Emma Niltro. The nanny who raised them like soldiers. A woman who taught ruthlessness as a virtue, and masked manipulation as discipline.

Jarden had met her only once. He remembered her smile—it didn't reach her eyes. And that was enough.

Jin finally replied.

"I don't want to."

"Please…"

"We'll do anything!"

Jin's eyes sharpened.

"If you mean that, I won't refuse. But I have a condition."

Jarden didn't have to guess what was coming.

And when Jin spoke of the grave…

The twins paled.

Their legs wobbled.

Memories came back in droplets of dread.

"You're to dig," Jin said, voice icy. "No rest. Until nightfall."

Jarden didn't interrupt.

He watched.

Because this wasn't punishment—it was payment.

Later — Sunset Glow

Jin sat at the long table, slurping Phoenix soup with visible delight.

Gilly hovered beside him. "Is it that tasty, Young Master?"

"It's so tasty!"

Her smile trembled with pride and relief.

Jarden sat across the hall, pretending to read.

But he wasn't looking at the pages.

He was watching Jin.

Jin cuddled into Gilly's arms and spoke low.

"Elder sister Mary gave me the heart for my sake, and Gilly carefully prepared the soup for a month without sleep. I don't want to share such a precious meal with those idiots."

Jarden closed his book gently.

He understood.

This was a line drawn. Not against the twins—against sentiment.

Later that night, Utahame stepped in quietly as Jin finished the second bowl.

"They're still digging," she said. "Near the mound."

Jin nodded. "They'll reach something soon."

Utahame stood by the window, fingers brushing the frost.

"The Phoenix is not just flame," she murmured. "It is memory. Myth says it dies in pain—and is reborn in silence. That cycle is not a gift. It's a burden."

Jin paused.

"You think I'm chasing a burden?"

"I think you're already inside it."

Jarden watched Jin carefully.

His brother's fingers trembled briefly.

Not from heat.

From recognition.

But he still didn't know. Not yet. Not that Jarden had already begun his own rebirth. Not that his blade was waking, just beneath the grave they were reshaping.

Later that night

arden POV

The heat didn't fade after the last spoon.

Instead, it grew.

Jarden hadn't consumed a full serving—just a fragment Jin had set aside absentmindedly. A spoon. A taste.

But Phoenix essence didn't need quantity. It needed presence.

His veins burned.

Skin flushed.

Breath came tight.

And when he lay down that night, the storm outside didn't hum—it screamed.

Jarden closed his eyes, unsure if sleep or fire would claim him first.

Then—

Silence.

The heat vanished.

He stood in a black void. No ground. No ceiling. No time.

Before him, a sword floated. Or rather—hung.

Suspended in shadow and silver.

Twisted metal. Whispering edges.

Ryuzin Zakka.

Then came the voice.

"You are not the Phoenix. You are the Sword that chooses silence."

Jarden didn't flinch.

"You're the blade beneath my bed."

"Yes. Bound in forgotten iron. Sleeping. Until your bones remembered."

"Why now?"

"The bird burned. The blood stirred. Your soul tugged open the seal with nothing but hunger."

Jarden stared.

"You were never meant to wake in childhood."

"I wake when needed. Not when wanted."

The sword spun slowly.

Heat surged again. But it didn't burn him.

It welcomed him.

"You will not master me through lineage. You will not claim me through ritual. You will earn me through loss."

Jarden nodded.

"Then tell me what you are."

The voice echoed like rain dripping into stone.

"Ryyuzin Zaka. The blade born from a promise broken."

"I belonged to the one who betrayed light for silence. The first shadow of the first war."

"Your blood remembers. Your silence calls me."

Jarden stepped forward.

And the blade descended—its tip hovering before his chest. He didn't reach for it. He let it choose. The spirit whispered one final word:

"You will not wield me to win."

"You will wield me so no one forgets."

Jarden gasped awake.

The heat in his body had mellowed into embers.

His palm tingled.

Below the floorboards—beneath the grave—the sword pulsed once.

It was no longer asleep.