Episode 3
Episode 2. Days at Stormhold (Part 2)
As Sir Shiron emerged from the Black Sea, the days of the Runkandel clan members living outside Stormhold suddenly grew hectic. After all, they had to accompany their clan head who was leaving the Black Sea for the first time in five years.
“All Runkandel knights not currently on imperial assignments, assemble at Stormhold immediately.”
At the command of Rosa Runkandel, the Black Panther, riders from across the world—Beament Empire, Akin Kingdom, Jan Kingdom, Kurano Principality, and more—hurried to Stormhold.
“What on earth is going on? The youngest’s selection ceremony just ended, yet Father is coming to Stormhold again?”
Ran Runkandel, Shiron’s third son, was on his way back after clearing out monsters in the northern continent.
“Did you hear anything from the Stormhold guardians?”
Vigo Runkandel, Shiron’s fourth son, had just returned from an assassination mission commissioned by a wealthy noble of the Kurano Principality.
That noble had been unfortunate. The Runkandel clan never compensated for any losses or incomplete missions caused by the family’s summons.
“No, nothing. It seems to be a top-secret matter. But if Father is moving, it must be serious…”
Mary Runkandel, Shiron’s third daughter, had just defeated one strong opponent after another in the southern continent.
In this way, Shiron’s seven children, accompanied by over two hundred knights and scholars, gathered at Stormhold.
It was a force capable of leveling an ordinary city in thirty minutes and destroying most kingdoms within a day.
News of Shiron’s movement sparked countless rumors among the world’s powerful.
“What could be the reason for Shiron’s move? He said he wouldn’t leave the Black Sea for the next ten years.”
“Is Runkandel finally aiming to overturn global dominance?”
“Has the Zipelga faction responded yet?”
Shiron, the world’s only Spear Saint.
And Runkandel, the root of his power.
The impact of those two names was immense.
Shiron’s children and the clan’s guardian knights lined up on both sides of the stairs leading up to Stormhold. The storm raged around them, lending a solemn, almost war-ready air to their presence.
“To the clan head!”
“To the clan head!”
As Shiron arrived at the foot of the stairs, they all saluted in unison. Their booming voices echoed through the mountaintop, as if threatening to trigger an avalanche.
“Hmm.”
Shiron nodded lightly and began ascending the stairs.
‘Father’s mood is strange. This must be something serious.’
The Runkandel siblings exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation, and followed their father with solemn faces. The clan’s scholars trailed behind, while the guardian knights stood watch at the entrance.
What they didn’t know was that Shiron had come to Stormhold for a simple reason: to see his youngest son.
“Daytona, Heitona.”
“Yes, Father.”
Shiron sought out the Tona twins first. The twins, who had been sickly in their room, swallowed their sniffles and knelt on one knee before him.
“Tell me, what is your fault?”
Jin waited with Gili outside the room, unable to hear the conversation.
The twins hesitated. Shiron’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
“I asked you to tell me what your fault is.”
“W-well…”
Whether they were destined to commit their first murder at age ten, or grow into serial killers who would kill fifty people a year on a whim, they were still just nine-year-old kids.
They were at the age where a strict father was terrifying—especially one like Shiron, whose severity defied description.
And yet, fault?
They had been beaten by their younger brother. If anyone was at fault, shouldn’t it be the youngest?
That was what the Tona twins thought. Their own wrongdoing in bullying Jin had already faded from their memories.
“We did nothing wrong.”
Finally, Daytona found the courage to speak. When Shiron rested his chin on his hand, signaling he was listening, Daytona continued.
“Jin used some unknown power to hit me and Heitona.”
“That’s right! It wasn’t aura, but some unknown power!”
Heitona chimed in, emphasizing the “unknown power, not aura.”
In this world, if it wasn’t aura, there was only one other force: magic. If seven-year-old Jin had used aura, it would have been a blessing for Runkandel. But this was something else entirely.
Born of the Runkandel bloodline, using magic was impossible.
So the twins were desperately trying to convince Shiron that the black energy surrounding Jin’s fists was magic.
“My sons.”
A gentle voice.
“Yes, Father!”
The twins answered brightly, like prisoners who had found an escape route. Seeing their father’s unusually kind tone, they thought they had the upper hand.
But Shiron completely ignored their claims and spoke softly, calmly.
“I will tell you something you must engrave in your hearts. If you continue like this… you will not survive in Runkandel.”
“Ah…”
“S-sorry, Father.”
“Go and bring Jin here.”
As Jin walked down the corridor, he recalled the faces of the Tona twins he had just seen.
They looked utterly defeated, as if they had barely survived being thrown into a den of wild beasts.
‘That’s the expression I always made when I met Father in my past life. Now I understand why.’
Jin hadn’t heard the conversation between Shiron and the twins but could guess how it went.
‘Father probably asked a question, and the twins gave an answer that didn’t meet his expectations. Understandable, since they’re just kids.’
Shiron’s discipline was always like that.
Or rather, could it even be called discipline? Shiron had thirteen children, including Jin, but none of them could say he had truly raised them.
In Runkandel, childcare was left entirely to the nannies.
Shiron and Rosa merely observed from afar—watching how the children grew, and which among them would become the clan’s future leader.
Only when the children reached adulthood and achieved a certain level of success “worthy of Runkandel’s standards” did they begin to pay them any real attention.
That was why Shiron’s visit to Stormhold was such a big deal.
The other siblings waiting in the lobby were dying of curiosity about what was happening between Father and the little ones.
Step by step.
In the distance, Jin saw his father seated on the throne of Stormhold. As he cautiously approached, memories from his past life flashed before his eyes.
‘My father. The strongest and coldest man I know.’
His mother, Rosa Runkandel, was at least somewhat human. When Jin was cast out of the family, Rosa fasted for two days—a story well known in the outside world.
Of course, after those two days, Rosa erased Jin from her heart completely.
But Shiron was different.
He showed the barest signs of humanity—twitching eyebrows when angry, lips quivering when amused.
He had struggled and sometimes despaired in his youth while striving to become clan head.
But since reaching the level of Spear Saint, a demigod, even those moments had grown rare. Only blind worry for the clan remained.
‘It’s ironic. He’s reached demigod status, yet he’s still protecting the clan because the eldest brother isn’t enough.’
Jin ground his teeth so hard it almost made a cracking sound.
He had lived a harsh life, even until being cast out. Even sitting at the same table, Jin was treated as if he didn’t exist.
But he couldn’t afford to lose control. Shiron was not the kind of man to miss his youngest son grinding his teeth in front of him.
‘Even if he’s my father this life, I won’t let him treat me carelessly.’
With that resolve, Jin knelt on one knee before Shiron.
And spoke.
“To the clan head.”
Not as a youngest son meeting his father, but as a member of the clan facing its head.
Shiron nodded, clearly pleased.
“Why did you call me ‘clan head’ instead of ‘father’?”
Jin pretended to think for a moment, though he already knew exactly how Shiron would react.
“Brother, sister, and the guardian knights—over a hundred clan members have gathered at Stormhold. So I considered your visit an official clan event, and spoke accordingly.”
Shiron’s eyes widened.
“Excellent.”
Jin said nothing, simply bowing slightly in respect.
For a seven-year-old, it was an impressive attitude, but Shiron suspected nothing. He simply thought Gili had taught Jin well, and that Jin’s insight in choosing Barisada during the selection was innate.
What Shiron couldn’t know was that Jin was no ordinary seven-year-old, but a young man with memories of a past life. Even a demigod like him couldn’t perceive that.
Shiron stared at Jin quietly before speaking again.
“I just asked your brothers what their faults were, and they couldn’t answer.”
“Yes, clan head.”
“Alright, I’m willing to ask you again. Daytona and Heytona—what was the mistake your brothers made?”
Jin pretended to ponder once more. This, too, was more or less the response he had anticipated.
No, it was exactly what he expected. Siron Runcandel—his father—would treat him like a seasoned veteran, even if he was just a scrappy kid, having been through every hardship imaginable.
Siron was looking for a very specific answer.
“Revenge.”
“Hmm!”
Siron’s eyes flickered briefly with interest. After a moment’s pause, Jin continued.
“My brothers should have taken revenge on me. As a member of the Runcandel family, you always return what you’ve suffered—whether it’s a favor or a grudge.”
Silence fell.
Jin knew this quiet came from Siron’s satisfaction.
But now was the time to show a hint of childishness. Just a slight flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he asked,
“Did I answer incorrectly?”
“No, not at all. Very satisfactory.”
“Thank you, Father.”
At that, a trace of disappointment crossed Siron’s eyes.
“From now on, call me Father. The family members have gathered, but today I came to Stormhold for personal reasons.”
“Yes, Father.”
Siron looked down at Jin with a faint smile.
But moments later, the smile faded. His expression returned to that of an indifferent, towering oak as he asked another question.
“What was the special power you used to defeat your brothers?”