I Obtained Sword God Level Talent

12 – 012. Awakening (1)

‘Armand blacksmith? Oh, yeah. About seven years ago? The whole family died of some unknown illness. Only the old man’s daughter survived. Now… she’s said to be living in the back alley slums, or something like that?’

That was information we obtained from a merchant in Loven.

Lancelot’s family had all met their ends. If there was any silver lining in this misfortune, it was that his mother, whom he had been searching for, was alive.

“……”

Lancelot’s steps, full of force, were unhesitating.

With each of his footsteps, deep questions surfaced. Even I was finding it hard to understand, so it must be unbearable for Lancelot, the person most affected by this situation.

‘The Count Armand promised a large amount of support money.’

That was the condition the Count Armand offered in exchange for registering his illegitimate child.

The sheer amount of support money, coupled with Lancelot saying he sent money home every month, made his mother living in a slum a reality that felt utterly jarring.

“The address on the paper is here, Lancelot.”

“Mm.”

We walked quite a while in silence before stopping. The address on the paper pointed not to a mansion in the center, but to the outskirts of a slum.

‘Can someone even live here?’

The scene in the back-alley slum was something that seemed impossible to live in, even as a joke. A gloomy darkness pervaded, even in broad daylight, and a thick, musty air stabbed at our lungs.

“Here…”

Taut with tension, Lancelot stared at the half-collapsed house. Or, could you even call that a ‘house’ to begin with?

The address on the paper… the place he’d come to find his mother looked like a house, but it wasn’t. The haphazard way it was pieced together with planks that looked scavenged from construction sites was a stark display of their harsh living conditions.

*Cough! Cough!*

And just as expected.

A rough cough echoed from inside the shack. Even from outside, you could tell that their health was anything but normal.

“……”

Lancelot’s head turned. He looked at me with the face of a student desperately searching for answers, as if unsure of what to do next.

“Now, it’s your turn. It’s true I helped you find your mother, but ultimately, you are the one who matters.”

“……I understand.”

*Sigh.*

Lancelot took a deep breath and stepped forward. Standing before the crooked door, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then finally raised his fist to knock.

*Knock knock!*

“……*Cough!* Who is it? *Cough!*”

The person inside asked with a weak voice. Lancelot, frozen white, stammered, his lips awkwardly fumbling for the words, which seemed quite out of character for him.

“I, I’ve come to see you. Mrs. Armand.”

“*Cough! Cough!* ……Me?”

*Screech!*

The door opens. And revealed was a gaunt middle-aged woman, all skin and bones.

“Who are you?”

Who are you. That was the question from a mother meeting her son after more than ten years.

Lancelot’s tightly shut lips trembled. He looked like a criminal, his steadfast gaze shaking wildly like a reed in the wind.

Mrs. Armand, Lancelot’s mother, was emaciated. Whether she wasn’t eating or washing properly, her haggard complexion was a stark contrast to someone who was supposed to be receiving massive support funds, a jarring reality.

“I’m, I’m your……”

Shuddering.

Lancelot’s shoulders drooped, forlorn. Does Mother not remember me? Has I changed so much that she doesn’t recognize her grown son… A feeling like that hung in the air.

“It’s me, your son.”

The deep, low voice echoed in the back alley.

“Son, son? Lancelot…?”

Upon hearing that, Madame Armand’s eyes widened, shaking. It was as if she’d met someone she shouldn’t have, her expression self-condemning, enough to make your heart ache.

“I’ve changed a lot. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Lancelot forced a shaky laugh. Or rather, he wished he could. The guy, never a good actor, tried awkwardly to smile with a visibly unnatural gesture.

But.

“You… you shouldn’t be here. Hurry, go back. Go back to the barony.”

After over ten years, the mother did not greet her son with open arms. Instead, she spoke as if reprimanding the now-grown boy.

She spoke with her head bowed as if not wanting her son to see the poverty that was plastered all over her face.

“Don’t look for me, don’t think of me. Your mother is Madame Armand. I’m not your mother.”

“……!”

Lancelot’s body shuddered greatly at those cruelly heart-wrenching words.

He must have expected it, right? That if he returned, covered in the dust of his childhood, his mother would greet him with a warm smile. But… reality was the complete opposite of his expectations.

Madame Armand’s trembling voice didn’t stop there. As if she’d made a crucial decision, she shouted, almost screaming.

“Go, go now! Never, never come back again!”

*Thud!*

And the door, which had been slightly open, slammed shut. Lancelot stood there silently for a long while before turning away.

A twisted smile was on his lips. You didn’t even have to ask to know that it was a mask of cheerfulness, a smile filled with grief.

“……That’s it. It’s alright. This is enough.”

” ‘That’s it’? Is this what ‘that’ is?”

Even I, watching, was at a loss for words. *That’s it*? What the hell is *that*? Did you really come all this way for this? Was this enough, the reunion with family he so desperately desired?

*Thump thump.*

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the lodgings. I’ve achieved my objective. We can prepare for the return now, can’t we.”

Lancelot’s steps back the way he came were devoid of strength. His usually firm, squared shoulders slumped terribly, as if mirroring his feelings.

“……”

I watched his back grow smaller, then turned my head.

Like the first time I came, the closed door stood its ground, tilted on its hinges. Suddenly, I was curious about the intentions of Madame Armand inside.

Her gaunt face was a map of a deep, almost violent grief. And yet, there had to be a reason she’d turned her son away so cruelly after their reunion.

Knock knock!

I put my plan into action right away. If you’re curious, ask. Sure, Madame Armand wouldn’t just tell me things easily, but I wasn’t one to sit still either.

Screeeak!

The door opens again.

Had she been holding her breath, watching Lancelot leave with slumped shoulders from between the planks of the house’s walls? In that brief moment, she looked like she’d aged a decade.

“What business do you have left?”

She spoke with sunken eyes, maybe thinking I was just a friend of Lancelot’s.

“The money?”

Without needing to think, I asked what I was curious about. Where had all the money that should be in her hands gone?

Looking at her now, a lot of questions popped up. With the support funds from Count Armands’s family and the money Lancelot sent every month, there was no reason for her to be living in a place like this.

And what was the deal with her living alone in a shack in the back alleys, after her whole family died of an unknown illness about seven years ago?

‘Something, something is up.’

Lancelot might not be thinking straight, after hearing those cruel words, but I wasn’t. I was determined to dig into this bizarre disconnect.

“Money? Ah! The money! I’d forgotten for a moment. You were the agent, weren’t you? I heard you were coming tonight, so I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“…?”

But Madame Armand’s response that followed was really strange.

Thump thump. Stepping inside, she made a racket for a while, then finally appeared in front of me holding a small pouch.

‘This is…?’

Taking the pouch, my eyes widened as I looked inside.

It was money. A staggering sum for someone who lived in a shack like this, it was an amount she shouldn’t have dared to touch.

“Be sure to tell him that Lancelot’s visit was unexpected… and please look after him this time too….”

“Huh.”

A surge of annoyance made my face twist instantly.

It was like the pieces of a puzzle had just clicked. The clues given were few, but I wasn’t so stupid that I couldn’t guess the situation.

“It seems like the amount’s less than last time? I heard it was supposed to be much more than this.”

I stated calmly.

My fingers swept across the pouch, full of discontent. Each time, the silver coins inside clinked brightly.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know that the holy water and elixirs are very expensive… Master said this was him showing his generosity.”

“Young master?”

My head snapped around, askew.

“If you mean ‘young master,’ are you talking about someone from the Almanse Count’s family?”

“Y-yes. You… you wouldn’t happen to be…?”

The situation was simple and clear.

The Almanse Count’s family had indeed adopted Lancelot.

But what came after was the problem. Those b*stards were periodically extorting massive sums from Madam Armand. Using her son, Lancelot, as a hostage, for reasons they claimed were unavoidable—like miracle elixirs, or holy water.

“G-give it back! That money is for Lancelot!”

*Whisk!*

Madam Armand reached out, feeling something was wrong. But I wasn’t about to let a middle-aged woman snatch the pouch from me.

“I’ll give this to Lancelot. It’ll probably be the first time he’s ever seen this kind of thing.”

“W-what…?”

“I roughly understand the situation. The Almanse Count’s family. They threatened you, didn’t they? Demanded money, and told you not to meet with Lancelot.”

“H-how did you…?”

Madam Armand, looking dazed, whimpered.

For the Almanse Count’s family, there couldn’t be an easier target.

She who had not a single piece of knowledge about the world of nobles, let alone knights. It must have been effortless to squeeze money out of her using ‘miracle elixirs’ as an excuse.

And on top of that.

A mother’s unconditional love for her bloodline was fueling the flames. With no regard for her own safety, or the reality she was trapped in… because a mother’s love is often like that.

“Calm down and listen. Something is very, very wrong. There’s no reason whatsoever for you to treat Lancelot coldly and live in a dilapidated house like this.”

*Whack!*

Those words delivered, I turned my body around.

My first thought was to grab Lancelot, who’d returned to the lodgings. He needed to know, too. Why his mother had rejected him.

“Who… who are you? What’s your relationship with Lancelot…?”

*Halt!*

Behind me, as I strode away, Madam Armand’s forlorn voice echoed. I paused for a moment, not turning my head, and spat out,

“Just someone he knows.”