Chapter 2: The Stupid Hamel

Demon Slayer, God of War, Master-of-All — these were some of the many titles given to the Great Vermouth. But among all these titles, there was one that best described him, that of the Hero.

[300 years ago, our Hero, the Great Vermouth, set out on an adventure along with his companions.]

It was an old fairy tale that had been read to him ever since he could walk. It was about the adventures of the Great Vermouth, the Wise Sienna, the Faithful Anise, the Brave Molon, and the Stupid Hamel.

'All the others get called great, wise, faithful, or brave, so why am I the only one who gets called stupid?'

Whenever his nanny read him this tale as a bedtime story, a raging fire was stoked in Eugene Lionheart's chest. If only he could speak properly instead of babbling! Or if, at the very least, he could move his body properly!

'Even that blockhead Molon got packaged as the brave one. So why am I the stupid one? Did the two of us get switched at some point?'

No matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn't understand how they had come up with 'The Brave Molon.'

'The Brave? They don't know jackshit about him. More like, "The Foolish Molon."'

[The Stupid Hamel was always jealous of Vermouth. Hamel called Vermouth, who was better than him at everything, his rival. Although no one else actually agreed with this.]

"The bastard who wrote this must have been someone who I beat up in the past," Eugene spat out as he ground his teeth in anger.

Actually, it wasn't that difficult to understand why the contents of the story were like this. These bedtime stories were aimed at children, so they needed to be easy to read as well as fun and educational.

Hamel was constantly running ahead of Vermouth. He kept this up even when they reached the crossroad leading to the Demon King's castle. Although Vermouth said they needed to go right, Hamel was stubborn and insisted on going left.]

"Bullshit."

[Eventually, Vermouth agreed to listen to Hamel. However, along the path they took, a devilish trap was lying in wait for them… Stupid Hamel! He shouted boastfully that the Demon King had laid a trap for them because the Demon King was afraid of him. What an idiot!]

The ten-year-old Eugene clenched his fist tightly. He might have already read this story hundreds of times, but each time he reached this point in the story, rage welled up within him.

[Hamel was a troublemaker. He had a fiery personality, so he frequently ended up fighting with his companions.]

"...They got that part right."

[After many adventures, Vermouth and his companions entered the Demon King's castle. Even after entering the Demon King's castle, stupid Hamel refused to listen to Vermouth. Hamel, who kept running ahead, couldn't avoid any of the traps, and thanks to that, Vermouth and his companions experienced many crises.]

"Like this bastard even knows what it was like," scolded Eugene through gritted teeth.

The traps in the hellish Demon King's castle weren't something one could avoid just because they wanted to, so even though they had known that traps laid ahead, they still had no choice but to break through forcefully.

[...Hamel was always arguing with his companions. Stupid Hamel. Rude Hamel. However, Hamel loved his companions. Hamel, who was covered in scars, sacrificed himself for his companions instead of running away.]

"..."

[In his final moments, while cradled in the arms of his loving comrades, Hamel regretted that he had never been honest with them. Sienna, he said, I've always liked you.]

"I didn't like her."

[Anise, please pray for me.]

"I didn't say that."

[Molon, you're the bravest warrior.]

"That bastard was just a blockhead."

[Vermouth, make sure to defeat the Demon King. Vermouth swore an oath on Hamel's tears that he would definitely defeat the Demon King. At these words, Hamel peacefully closed his eyes….]

There was nothing more to see after this. With a furrowed brow, Eugene closed the book.

'So my character was sacrificed for the sake of a good bedtime story.'

Countless children had been taught a lesson about how even someone like Stupid Hamel could hide a righteous heart inside his chest. He had sacrificed himself for his comrades and he had even regretted being dishonest….

"Fuck, did they really have to sell my good name for such a cheap lesson?"

Even though he had read it several times, he still got angry every time. Finally, venting his rage, he threw the book across the room. He secretly desired to find the person who had written the story and beat them to a pulp, but the author of this book, which had already been around for three hundred years, was anonymous.

"Vermouth, Sienna, Anise, and Molon, you four are also to blame, you bastards. How could you allow a fairy tale like this to be written? Damn you, Sienna. Even though you cried like that when I snuffed it…! Did none of you even consider protecting your dead colleague's honor?"

He suspected that might actually be the case, or at least he did once he had recovered from his outburst and caught his breath. After all, it wasn't like they could have expected that Hamel would be reincarnated with a complete memory of his past life.

Damn reincarnation!

Eugene recalled all the time he had spent crying in his crib. In his opinion, his years of infancy were just as torturous as going through the Demon King's castle. On top of his thoughts being fuzzy, he couldn't even move or speak properly. So he was forced to spend every day of those long and terrible years chewing on a pacifier or staring up at the mobile hanging from the ceiling.

There was a reason why, as a ten-year-old, he had such a foul look in his eyes. From a young age, he had been forced to kill time by just staring into the distance….

Eugene released a heavy breath as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'... I'm fine with reincarnation, but why'd I have to get reborn as one of Vermouth's descendants?'

Vermouth's surname was Lionheart.

'If I'm going to get reincarnated, aren't there a lot of places that I could have gone to? So why, of all things, did I get stuck with Vermouth's bloodline?'

Anyone else might have celebrated having such a powerful background, but there was no way that Eugene, who still had the memories of his previous life, could do that.

All his life, he had wanted to outshine Vermouth. Although he hadn't yelled about being rivals as the story claimed he did, it was true that Hamel had tended to be conscious of the guy throughout their journey.

In the end, he hadn't been able to escape Vermouth's shadow. No matter how hard he practiced and strived, he still couldn't shorten the distance between them.

'The Great Vermouth.'

Eugene raised his head and looked at the large portrait hanging on the wall. The Vermouth depicted within it looked exactly the same as his memories from his past life.

'The Stupid Hamel.'

He took a mirror out of his vest and looked at his reflection. The face of a ten-year-old child looked back, one who didn't resemble Vermouth in the slightest. However, since his last name was Lionheart, he really was a descendant of Vermouth.

At first… he had thought that this was all just a long dream following his death. However, he had long since come to accept that this was his new reality.

The Stupid Hamel had reincarnated as the descendant of the Great Vermouth.

* * *

During his lifetime, Vermouth had many concubines alongside his legal wife.

'He wasn't someone who seemed overly interested in women, but I guess he changed with age.'

The Vermouth from Eugene's memories wasn't just abstinent; he was practically ascetic. To think that such a man would end up with ten concubines and a whole host of descendants.

'In the end, he was still human after all, so I guess I get it.'

Only the descendants of the legal wife were recognized as the direct lineage of Vermouth. Although Eugene's family was also surnamed Lionheart, they were only of a collateral line.

Even so, it wasn't like they were left destitute. Although it might not be much compared to the main estate in the capital, Eugene's family mansion was lavish enough to seem showy in its rural surroundings. So even though they were just collateral descendants, they were still being treated according to their station.

Within this spacious mansion, the gigantic gymnasium especially showcased its majesty. Descendants who inherited the blood of the Great Vermouth — the Hero, the God of War, the Master-of-all —- were not allowed to neglect their training. These words had been hammered into Eugene from a young age.

"Not again…"

Gerhard Lionheart looked down at his ten-year-old son with tired eyes. While he had also been diligent in training from a young age, his young son had already put all his past efforts to shame.

Although he might also be a descendant of the great Vermouth, Gerhard actually had no talent for the martial arts.

"...it really did break."

Whenever he saw his son, he couldn't help but feel mixed emotions. From Eugene's behavior which wasn't like a child's to his sharp eyes that didn't hold a shred of innocence, Gerhard felt there was always some distance between them. Even though Eugene had lost his mother when he was young, Gerhard had never once seen his son cry out for his dead wife.

And that wasn't all. His son's talent… was great, so great that it was hard to believe that they shared the same blood.

'He's a monster.'

Although this wasn't an appropriate thought to have about his only son, Gerhard couldn't help but feel fear at times. He was only ten years old, a child who had yet to even dabble with mana, but his skill when wielding a wooden sword needed to be seen to be believed.

"I was just swinging it, and it broke."

Eugene lowered the sword with a click of his tongue. The wooden sword had been embedded with an iron core, making it too heavy to handle with just the strength of a child. Even so, Eugene had insisted on using a sword like this one ever since he was seven years old.

At first, Gerhard had thought it was just childish stubbornness. He had even thought it would be cute to see Eugene try and wield it with tears in his eyes. However, it had already been three years since then. Now, Eugene could wield this sort of heavy wooden sword with ease and had even gone on to add sandbags when the initial weight proved insufficient.

Gerhard gulped as he looked down at the floor, which was strewn with pieces of a broken wooden sword and a completely shattered practice dummy. How long had it been since the dummy was last replaced? Around three days? But this wasn't anything to be surprised about. Every single one of the practice dummies in the gymnasium had had to be replaced at some point.

"The village blacksmith's skills are garbage," Eugene growled.

Although these words were too harsh to come from a child's mouth, Gerhard didn't bother to point this out. That was just part of Eugene's innate character. Gerhard had struggled to correct his son's manners throughout his childhood, but Eugene's wild nature hadn't changed a bit.

"Doesn't he feel ashamed to accept money in exchange for this crap? He should be summoned and given a thrashing, but father, you are just too merciful."

"That's… Ahem… Don't waste your time thinking about that. Next time, we'll get something a little more durable."

"Don't bother with the practice dummy, just get me a whole block of high-purity iron. It's just going to get smacked by a wooden sword, so there's no need to give it a shape."

Gerhard just stared at his son, unable to find the words. He noticed that his son now had such a hardened physique, it was hard to believe he was just ten. To be honest, if they fought barehanded, he suspected that he might even lose….

'I've fathered a caveman….'

Gerhard was unable to feel pure joy regarding his son's talent. Was it because he felt that his son was a monster? No, that wasn't the reason. Among the many feelings that Gerhard had for his son, there was also a sense of pride. Unlike his father, Eugene had been born with brilliant talent, so how could he not feel pride?

However, along with this pride came a sense of guilt. It was an indisputable fact that, as a father, he was lacking in influence. Just because the descendants of Vermouth were all Lionhearts, it didn't mean that the families were all treated the same. It had already been hundreds of years since Gerhard's branch of the family was forced out into the countryside, and they mostly went ignored even among the collateral branches.

Should he tell his son about the reality of the situation? No, it would be better not to. After all, wasn't such a topic too difficult for a young child to understand?

"Can't I just use a real sword?"

Without even considering it, Gerhard bitterly shook his head.

"You can't do that yet."

"Because of the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony?"

"That's right. If you take part in the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony three years from now, you'll be allowed to wield a real sword."

"Isn't it fine if we just keep it a secret between the two of us?"

"Something like that… is not allowed. Because I am a Lionheart, I can't just ignore family traditions."

The Bloodline Continuation Ceremony was a Lionheart family tradition that took place once every ten years. During the ceremony, all children from the ages of ten to fifteen who bore the name Lionheart, both direct and collateral descendants, were called to the main estate.

The reason for this ceremony was simple. It was to decide who among them were best suited to carry the Lionheart name. After all, wasn't it an embarrassment to claim to be the descendants of the hero without first proving it? So until that day, they weren't allowed to wield a sharpened 'true' weapon until the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony was over.

'What a stupid tradition.'

Eugene didn't allow his thoughts to slip out. However, whenever he heard anything about the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony or the family's traditions, he felt disgust and disbelief churn in the pit of his stomach.

The only purpose that the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony served was to suppress the collateral descendants.

The children of the collateral lines weren't allowed to wield real weapons until after the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony. They also weren't allowed to train their mana. However, the children of the direct line residing in the capital estate were free to wield any weapon they wanted, regardless of their age, and they started learning how to use mana as soon as they could walk.

'That's what it's all about. They want to beat it into them from a young age that the collateral descendants can never outdo the direct descendants.'

This act of bullying was so obvious that even a child could see it. Much less Eugene, who, although young in body, had the mind of an adult.

Gerhard couldn't see what was going on inside his son's head. However, he got some idea of what Eugene was feeling from his sullen expression. Although he thought the sight of his frustrated son's face was quite cute, his guilt grew even heavier.

'If only he was born to the direct line….'

His son's talent was brilliant, but clear limitations were placed on the Lionheart family's collateral descendants. In the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony three years from now… although his son was so outstanding that it was hard to believe he was still a child, there was no way he could compete with the true inheritors who had grown up in the main household.

Such a reality made Gerhard feel tormented. If only he had been born without talent like his father… then Eugene wouldn't have to feel the gap between his innate talent and the challenges posed by reality.

"Why do you have that sort of look on your face, father?"

"No… it's nothing."

'As if. You can clearly tell that he's blaming himself again for not being able to give me the best opportunities.'

Eugene clicked his tongue as he stared at Gerhard. Because of his clear memories from his previous life, it was difficult to regard Gerhard as his father. However, it was impossible to deny that he had been reborn as Gerhard's son.

"Father. It's been a long time, so why don't we do some play-fighting?"

"Mm… What?!"

"I said, play-fighting."

Eugene didn't mention the word spar. He was trying to be considerate of his father's feelings if his ten-year-old son were to challenge him to a spar. That's why he used the word 'play' instead, but Gerhard's expression still froze in horror.

Gerhard first felt the weight of his gut dragging him down. Then he looked at his son's arm brandishing the iron-cored wooden sword like a toy.

"L-let's leave that for next time."

If his ten-year-old son were to accidentally use his full strength while playing… Gerhard quickly retreated while sweating buckets, just thinking about it.

Eugene giggled as he watched his father make his escape.

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