I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

Naturally, the Holy Sword Bestowal Ceremony was a major event attended by high-ranking elites from across the continent. And wherever such people gathered, it was only natural that subtle power plays and games of noble pedigree would break out behind the scenes.
"……"

"……"
In other words—
It was exceedingly rare for people to fall into silence and quietly watch for cues in a place like that.

But the two knights wearing pauldrons engraved with the crest of the Chasefield family—founders of the Empire—were exactly the kind of individuals capable of commanding that kind of atmosphere.
It was only to be expected. After all, the family that the newly appointed protector of mankind belonged to was none other than theirs.
And now, a core member of that house had arrived in person.

"Lord Patriarch, there’s no need for you to be here yourself, surely. You’re a busy man."
At the steward’s worried words, Lionel Chasefield turned to him with a warm smile.
The head of House Chasefield.

And the father of Gray Chasefield, the girl chosen as this generation’s Hero.
"For a father not to show up when his daughter is receiving the Holy Sword? Unthinkable."
"……"

The steward managed a quiet, wry smile at Lionel’s words.
Well, it was true that among the Empire’s nobles, Lionel was known for his noble character, standing out even amidst the greed-blinded aristocracy.
The problem was… his daughter didn’t care in the slightest whether he was present or not.

"And more importantly—"
Lionel sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"…Someone’s got to be here to clean up if that girl causes an incident."

"……"
Well.
That was a fair reason.
"Her upbringing was… flawed. That’s on me."

"With all due respect, my lord, I think no one could have handled the young lady, no matter who her parents were."
"If anyone can handle her, I’ll make sure to appoint them to a high position. Do find me such a person, will you?"
"You’d be better off telling her to retire quietly."

The steward and Lionel both chuckled under their breath as they walked.
…The kind of laughter only people thoroughly exhausted by Gray would understand.
"Where is Gray now?"

"I’ll check."
At Lionel’s question, the steward bowed his head—but it didn’t seem like Lionel would need to go looking himself.
Someone was already sprinting toward them, face pale.

"Vespa?"
Gray’s personal attendant.
She was always suffering, which is why Lionel, unlike most nobles, had taken the rare step of actually remembering her name.

"……"
"……"
Lionel and the steward exchanged glances.

There was a particular phrase that always came out of Vespa’s mouth whenever she ran up like this.
Let’s see…
"There’s trouble! M-my lady—!"

"……"
"……"
Of course there is.

***
One thing Carlyle could say with certainty about Gray Chasefield:
Once she made up her mind to do something, she never hesitated.

Her menacing advance after just a few verbal insults made that perfectly clear.
A quick glance confirmed that the servant who’d been with her—Vespa—was already gone.
Looks like she went to get help.

A familiar scene.
She could never stop Gray herself, so whenever things went south, her go-to move was to run off and fetch someone who might be able to handle it. That was probably the thing she did most often when she was by Gray’s side.
And the person she fetched most often… was probably me.

[……]
So you do remember that, huh.
With the Hero’s silence echoing from within the sword, Carlyle took a deep breath.

Alright.
Humanity’s strongest warrior was advancing on him with killing intent.
…Honestly? He was scared.

Buried trauma—the pain and deaths he’d endured—came rushing back.
Flashbacks of all the past lives where he’d suffered at this woman’s hands flickered through his mind.
In every possible age and era, this woman had pushed the limits of human martial prowess to their absolute peak. For Carlyle, even brushing against her meant death.

But still—
He had to keep one thing in mind.
He didn’t need to beat her.

All he needed… was a crack.
Just one, tiny crack.
[Now.]

At the Hero’s signal from inside the sword—
Just as Gray drew her weapon—
Carlyle swept his leg and kicked her left leg out from under her.

Crash—clatter—
The Hero of humanity tumbled across the floor.
White skin like fine porcelain now smudged with dust and dirt.

"……"
Gray blinked in disbelief from where she lay flat on the ground.
She looked dazed.

Like she couldn’t even register what had just happened.
The Hero—
Had taken a hit.

From a man who looked like an utter nobody.
[That was a habit only I knew.]
From within the sword, the Hero’s voice echoed again.

[Every time I drew my sword, I’d always close my eyes for just a moment. A split second where I lost sight of my left side completely. It was short enough that I wouldn’t even notice it myself, especially from someone as insignificant as you.]
Hard to believe something that fatal was completely unknown till now.
[Well, I am the Hero. People don’t even consider that I might have weaknesses.]

……
[And really—who could possibly notice a conditional, split-second flaw like that?]
As annoying as her tone was, Gray was simply stating a fact.

And unfortunately, Carlyle couldn’t argue.
Once Gray had her sword drawn, it was easy to believe she had no weaknesses at all.
[Back in those days, I had a surprising number of weaknesses. Enough that a hit out of nowhere could put me in this state—even from someone like you.]

Even if she said so now, there was no way anyone but her would ever know such a thing.
[How pitiful, Gray.]
 

Seeing Gray still stunned on the ground, too shocked to even get up, the Holy Sword muttered quietly.
‘…You just humiliated your past self using a weakness you pointed out.’
[Well, seeing myself run my mouth with that stiff expression pissed me off too, what do you expect?]

……
Huh.
New life lesson:
The ultimate narcissist can even get mad at themselves.

As Carlyle was thinking that, suddenly—
“Uh, uh…!”
A gasp of disbelief came from the entrance to the training ground.

Turning his head, he saw Vespa, face blank with shock, staring between the collapsed Gray and Carlyle.
Perfect.
Having an audience makes dramatic impact easier.
Carlyle spoke up, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Guess the floor was slippery?”
"……"
“Hero, if you let your guard down like that, someone might ask you to return the Holy Sword.”

Immediately, he saw Gray’s face flare bright red.
So red, in fact, that Carlyle found himself thinking I didn’t know human skin could flush that fast.
The Hero—humiliated by some no-name nobody, in front of a witness no less.

For someone who lived off pride, this was probably a top-tier traumatic event.
Her body trembled. Her teeth clenched. Tears even welled in her burning-red eyes…
That meant success.

If you want someone to remember you, the method is simple:
Make them angry.
There’s no more efficient way to lodge yourself in someone’s mind.

Well—
The price for taking the easy route is usually steep.
And sure enough, Gray kicked off the ground and charged straight at him, eyes brimming with tears, throwing a punch—not even a sword strike.

A punch.
So fast no one could have possibly stopped her.
Ah.

Carlyle sighed inwardly.
A wild, brutish attack unbecoming of someone raised on knightly etiquette—but that just proved how pissed off she was.
Well, getting decked was par for the course in his first encounters with her in any timeline.

A pretty familiar experience by now.
Still—
In every past round, he’d just gotten knocked out cold at this point.

But this time, he wanted to leave some part of his intention behind.
That was his final thought—before the Hero’s fist crashed into his face with monstrous force.
CRACK.

SMASH.
The first sound was Carlyle’s face breaking.
The second was his body crashing through the wall behind him.
"You fucking worm—! Do you even know who I am!?"

Gray stood there, heaving, her usual cold and composed mask completely shattered.
Even after knocking Carlyle unconscious with a single blow, she looked unsatisfied.
In fact, she stomped toward him, dead set on delivering a follow-up blow. The aura around her made it seem like she had a literal demon clinging to her back.

But when she reached him, she froze.
Carlyle, crumpled on the floor and clearly unconscious—was flipping her off.
His hand was perfectly extended, middle finger raised, placed exactly where she could see it.
An immaculate gesture, straight as a ruler.

And on his half-shattered, caved-in face—there was a clear, bright smile.
"……"
How to describe it…

It was the look of someone who knew exactly how this would go and set it all up in advance.
Just to piss her off more.
“Y-you…!”

Gray’s mind went blank.
“I’ll kill you, you fucking piece of—!”
“Gray! Gray, my dear! Calm down, now—!”

…If Lionel hadn’t entered at just that moment, things might’ve gone really, really bad.
***
The Imperial Knights’ infirmary was a place Carlyle was quite familiar with.

He’d been here a lot.
Usually because of Gray.
“…The doctor said it’s a miracle I’m alive.”

Carlyle coughed, then continued.
“He asked if I got hit by a siege weapon.”
“She does hit rather hard.”

“Cute way of putting it.”
“You know what they say—even a hedgehog thinks its own child is lovely.”
If a hedgehog could talk, it would probably say don’t lump me in with that nonsense.

Wrapped in bandages from head to toe, Carlyle stared at the man sitting before him.
Lionel Haster Chasefield.
Duke of the renowned Chasefield family, one of the Empire’s most prestigious martial lineages—and father of the Hero.

When Carlyle had regained consciousness after getting annihilated by Gray, the first visitor had been this man.
“To what do I owe the honor?”
Truth be told, Carlyle had no memories of ever meeting Lionel in previous rounds.

In every timeline, the man was already dead by the time regression began.
Still, as someone who’d probably suffered more than anyone at Gray’s hands, they could be said to share a kind of silent camaraderie.
“Carlyle Belfast. I hear you’re a new recruit in the Knight Order.”

“Yes, sir.”
“And yet, you humiliated the Hero.”
Lionel said it without emotion, and Carlyle looked back with indifference.

Let me guess…
Probably here to ask him to apologize for upsetting Gray.
This guy was known across the Empire as a doting father.

But instead—
“I like you.”
"……"

“When you’ve recovered, come to House Chasefield. I’ve got a job to offer.”
"……"
Wait.

What?
“I… just humiliated your daughter.”
“Indeed.”

“And you want to offer me a job… at your estate?”
“Precisely because of that. The fact that you gave her that kind of experience qualifies you.”
"……"

“You.”
Lionel leaned forward with a wide grin.
“Would you mind… taming that child for me?”

"……"
Before Carlyle could even process what the hell that meant—
A window appeared before his eyes.

A window he had never seen before in ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ any of his past regressions.
[ System Message ]
◆ You’ve gained an opportunity to exert significant influence on the Hero during her formative years.
◆ You’ve met the requirements for unlocking Traits and Skills.
◆ The trait ‘Hero’s Companion’ has been unlocked.
◆ The skill ‘Instructor’ has been unlocked.
◆ Additional traits and skills will unlock depending on your relationship with the Hero!
◆ Train her well!

"……"
…What the hell is this?