Chapter 13

This is a book my daughter wrote.

Alexis stared blankly at the single book sitting on his desk.

The black cover made of uniquely textured cloth, with the book’s title and author’s name embroidered in white thread.

Knights of the Sky -Karma

In the center, an ordinary-looking longsword was embroidered in the same white thread. Just from its outward appearance alone, its extraordinary aura made him let out a hollow laugh.

“I never thought I’d end up reading it under these circumstances.”

Alexis had learned of this book’s existence on three separate occasions.

First, he had seen it extensively reported in the newspapers. Second, his old friend Lantaro had unusually sent him a letter mentioning it.

Finally, his own daughter, Katarina, had directly told him it was a book she had written.

‘Reading for once in a while wouldn’t be bad.’

As the head of Baron Blaine’s household and a knight himself, Alexis had rarely read books until now.

Using this as an excuse, he set aside his remaining work for the moment, called for his butler to prepare warm tea, and with leisurely gestures turned to the book’s first page.

Letters densely written on white paper.

Since Katarina had written it, he thought he’d somehow read it bit by bit to see it through to the end, but—

“Trying to become a knight with such a pathetic sword—how pitiful.”

After reading the first sentence and raising an eyebrow, when he came to his senses—

“I must chase after him.”

Volume 1 of Knights of the Sky had already ended.

---

“Trying to become a knight with such a pathetic sword—how pitiful.”

The sound of clashing sword blades echoed continuously, and Kyle was barely managing to block. Even when he tried to attack his opponent, his clumsy movements only backfired.

A heavy sword he was holding for the first time in his life.

Unfamiliar with the grip’s texture, Kyle gritted his teeth and gripped the sword tightly.

‘Block it.’

He was in the middle of the Imperial Knights’ first entrance examination, a tournament duel, and his first opponent was none other than the second son of some noble family.

With arms trembling from lack of strength, he barely managed to block the attacking sword by a hair’s breadth.

As Kyle entered defensive mode, his opponent became annoyed and criticized him while wildly swinging his sword.

“…Huff.”

When he finally lost grip of his sword and his hands felt empty—

His strength gave out and he sat down on the dirt ground as knights approached to mediate between the two.

“Just give up already instead of being troublesome.”

The noble looked down at Kyle and sneered. Everyone present heard what he said, but Kyle just gasped for breath without any retort.

‘I failed.’

When he removed the equipment that had been provided for the occasion, his meager wrists and ankles were fully exposed due to his short clothes.

“Of course, I knew he’d fail.”

“What Imperial Knights? Go wash some rags instead.”

As soon as he returned home with his exhausted body, contempt and dismissal toward Kyle continued.

Since his parents had died in an accident, he had been a dependent living in his relatives’ house from a very young age.

With nowhere immediate to go, he barely scraped by taking on all the household’s menial tasks. His first attempt after manifesting aura for the first time at the age of twelve had ended in failure.

After receiving countless rebukes and silently swallowing them all, Kyle lived another day holding his breath.

“These trash-like bastards.”

Callard, who had been slowly reading through the early parts, muttered while suppressing his anger.

‘He manifested aura without ever properly holding a sword?’

This is genius.

The treatment such a shining gem received was no different from slavery, making Callard grit his teeth.

Fortunately in the novel, the Imperial Knights’ entrance examination was held annually, so Kyle continued to challenge it steadily.

The only time he acted like a living person, instead of always living as if dead while holding his breath, was precisely then.

“Failed again.”

Kyle spoke in a calm, self-deprecating voice.

During his third attempt at the examination, blocking had somewhat improved, but he still didn’t know how to attack, and the sword remained heavy.

With aura that lasted only a few seconds at most, there was nothing he could accomplish.

Having skipped a day’s work for today, he’d have to do that much more work tomorrow.

“Do I… want to become a knight?”

Before leaving the examination grounds, he turned back and took in all the people inside.

Those who were already knights.

Or those who wanted to become knights.

Their plate armor glinted in the sunlight, and they with their swords at their waists and disciplined movements always captured Kyle’s attention.

But today, something felt different somehow.

When he turned his back, slowly moved his steps, and completely exited the examination grounds—

Kyle suddenly realized he wasn’t disappointed.

Because he hadn’t even expected to become a knight like them in the first place.

He opened his eyes that had been closed.

“Don’t give up.”

Callard felt his heart grow heavy watching Kyle’s situation.

As Father had said, challenges brought not beautiful success but countless failures.

Kyle’s daily routine had absolutely no time for sword training.

While doing all sorts of difficult tasks and errands without complaint, he thought his situation was better than children wandering the streets.

Kyle, so bound by circumstances, was truly pitiful.

When Callard, who had roughly swept back his hair, continued reading with his brow furrowed the entire time, the situation reversed.

“I can take care of myself now, so I’ll leave the house.”

Ironically, when he gave up his dream of becoming a knight, other paths began to appear to Kyle.

After learning that people would employ him as a worker to some degree, there was no longer any need to live as a dependent.

“He’s finally leaving that detestable place.”

It turned out the relatives had taken all the property Kyle’s parents owned when they took him in.

They kept acting generous and clingy until the end, making Callard reach the point of disgust when looking at them.

‘Bear with it, you won’t have to see them again anyway.’

Fortunately, Kyle’s subsequent actions brought small joy to Callard.

He took on odd jobs at taverns and other places to earn money, and once he had accumulated some funds, he began looking for a place to settle.

The capital’s housing prices were so expensive he couldn’t even dream of it.

Since he didn’t particularly care where he went, Callard hoped he’d go somewhere good.

“I hear demons are rampant in the south these days?”

“Don’t even mention it. That place is no different from a battlefield every day, yet strangely people are flocking there.”

After hearing the conversation of drunk people at a tavern, the next day he gathered some information and headed straight for the empire’s southernmost region.

“Why is he going there again?”

Callard grabbed his head again at this incomprehensible behavior, but—

“What’s a greenhorn doing here?”

On the way to the southernmost region, Kyle encountered both demons and humans.

Namely Isaac, one of the Knights of the Sky—which was also this book’s title.

---

“You’re crazy, absolutely crazy.”

“Why are you suddenly barging in acting like this?”

“If you don’t write the next part right now, I’ll blow your cover.”

“Then I just won’t write it.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Callard, who had appeared by forcefully opening the door with excessive energy, was talking nonsense with his hair completely disheveled.

He eventually tucked his tail and apologized, but his excessively bright eyes and flushed face were burdensome.

‘His condition is similar to Greg’s?’

Even without saying anything, I could feel that he had enjoyed reading Knights of the Sky that he received yesterday.

“I don’t particularly want to hear your review. Go to the training grounds and practice.”

“Got it! But you absolutely must write the next volume.”

With an expression as if his hands were itching to immediately grab a sword, Callard enthusiastically closed the door and disappeared.

A brief storm had passed, but his presence was completely erased from my mind before long.

“Chloe, bring me some cold lemon tea.”

“No. You’ve already had three cups today.”

“…I’ll write Masked Ball.”

Having become addicted to the lemon syrup Chloe had recently made herself, I even managed to get cookies along with it using my work as collateral.

Is this why I write…