The Tale of Gerald Vader, the Heretic Knight’s Rampage Through Another World
My brother Gerald is a genius.
I think I first noticed it when I was six and Gerald was four.
He probably doesn’t remember, but I recall him already spending all his time in the mansion’s library, devouring books.
Then again, thinking back, he started speaking before he was even six months old, so he was probably showing glimpses of his talent even then.
I was still just a child myself, so when my brother started talking right after he was born, I was simply delighted at the thought of being able to chat with him forever… but I remember Father weeping tears of joy.
According to Bernard, the ‘Hero’ who had twice averted the world’s destruction had spoken from a young age.
Gerald—my brother—could he be the vessel for the ‘Hero’? Even as a child, I felt a childish pride at the thought.
But, unfortunately… aside from speaking early, his physical abilities, magical prowess, and skill with the sword were all mediocre.
In our Vader family, formal knightly training begins on one’s fifth birthday.
Father had high hopes for Gerald, going so far as to summon a sword instructor from the capital’s knightly order specifically to train him.
But the instructor shook his head regretfully the moment he saw Gerald swing a sword.
He declared, ‘He has no talent for the sword.’
For Gerald’s sake, I should clarify: it wasn’t that he was utterly hopeless with a sword.
In fact, during training, he was a quick learner. He absorbed the techniques and forms the instructor taught him like a dry cloth soaking up water.
He was also full of ideas, surprising me by devising tactics I could never have imagined at the time.
But within two years of beginning his training, I came to understand the truth in the instructor’s words.
At some point, Gerald began struggling to master new sword forms and techniques.
Take the ‘Triple Twisting Slash’—the second form taught in the Vader family’s sword style after the basics.
It’s an advanced sweeping technique where you instantly maximize your physical capabilities, step into the opponent’s range in one go, convert the momentum of your charge into rotational force, and slash the opponent three times in a single breath… While I could perform it immediately after watching the instructor’s movements, Gerald needed a full month of intensive training just to execute the technique properly.
Then there’s his physical ability.
First, he’s slow.
And he lacks strength.
He seemed to have trained his magic power, but his output barely increased.
Admittedly, a two-year age gap makes anyone look weak, even a boy. But even compared to the children in neighboring villages, he wasn’t much different.
I, for instance, despite being a girl, was already far stronger than the adults in the village by the age of six.
According to his instructor, he was reasonably capable as an ‘ordinary human,’ but far too mediocre to live as a knight.
Had he been born into a merchant family, Gerald could surely have fully utilized his abilities.
But the Vader family was a house of knights.
Generation after generation, they served the Marquis of Horace, becoming his swords.
Gerald simply lacked the innate qualification to become a ‘sword’.
…After three years of training, Gerald gradually began skipping practice.
Even so, he held on remarkably well.
After all, despite hitting a point where his skill stopped improving entirely, he still clung on desperately for nearly another year, struggling through trial and error.
But once his sword skills plateaued, his relatively strong aptitude for academics also waned. He increasingly slipped out of his room to go play.
I remember Bernard, who oversaw his studies and education, constantly wandering outside the manor searching for Gerald.
My brother, though—at times like this, he’d vanish without a trace, slipping out of his room like a cat.
Perhaps he was more suited to being an adventurer or a military scout than a knight or a merchant—was that just wishful thinking on my part?
Anyway.
Before long, Gerald completely fell behind in his training.
He stopped attending daily practice altogether, barely paid attention in his studies, and Bernard lamented that no matter how hard he tried to teach him, almost nothing stuck.
And then… it happened soon after Gerald turned twelve.
As usual, he had slipped out of the manor unnoticed to go off somewhere… and the moment he returned, he collapsed.
Upon hearing the maid’s report, Bernard rushed to tend to him. From the bite marks on his leg and the symptoms, he immediately suspected the Black Plague.
After all, black spots were already appearing all over Gerald’s body, and he was burning up with a fever so high it felt like it could burn you to the touch.
We knew reports had come in a little while ago about someone in a nearby village contracting the Black Plague.
But the beast responsible, the Iron Rat, should have been exterminated just the other day by the entire knight order.
I had accompanied them as an apprentice to hunt the Iron Rat.
At least, we had hunted down every one that appeared around the manor.
So I never dreamed Gerald would be infected.
It was my fault, I thought.
Even though it was hiding in the bushes, I had failed to spot that rat, as big as a medium-sized dog.
Because I let the Iron Rat escape.
Despair made everything go black before my eyes.
Word was immediately sent to the knights in the provincial capital, and Father hurried back, accompanied by an elderly healer.
But the old healer said the ‘Black Plague’ wasn’t an ordinary illness; it was closer to a curse.
Meaning it was beyond the healing abilities of a mere mage like himself.
He said priests in the royal capital might be able to alleviate the symptoms…
The journey from the royal capital to the Vader domain took at least a month, no matter how quickly they traveled.
Treatment was effectively impossible.
The ‘Black Plague’ was the hateful death disease that had taken my mother’s life.
Those who contracted it had a fifty-fifty chance of dying, and even survivors often suffered severe lasting effects.
I blamed myself, cursed this world, and damned fate for being so merciless.
Of course, none of that did any good.
Gerald hovered between life and death for over ten days.
He suffered from a fever so high steam rose from his body, and his condition was dreadful, with black spots covering most of his skin.
Watching my brother steadily waste away, all I could do was pray to our family guardian, the Sword-Maker.
My stoic father ordered Bernard to have the undertaker prepare for the funeral and arrange for a necromancer to preserve and prepare the body.
But all those preparations proved unnecessary.
A miracle had occurred.
On the night of the eleventh day.
As usual, everyone had gathered around Gerald to bid him goodnight as he lay in a coma.
He reacted to my voice and slowly opened his eyes.
Before we knew it, Gerald’s body temperature had returned to normal, and the black spots had almost completely faded.
The healing mage had told us this illness, when cured, recovered dramatically… and that was exactly what happened.
My brother had finally overcome the deadly disease.
We rejoiced.
Though, perhaps due to the long fever that had tormented him, Gerald seemed quite confused when he first awoke.
He pinched his own cheek as if unsure who he was, or checked his reflection in the window to confirm.
After that, whether due to aftereffects of the illness or not, he exhibited strange behavior—emitting peculiar cries night after night, or suddenly starting training in the middle of the night despite having just recovered. This worried me, Father, and the household staff like Bernard, but it gradually subsided.
And then Gerald changed.
As if his personality had been replaced, he began seriously dedicating himself to the training he had previously neglected.
Perhaps his illness had caused a shift in his mindset.
Or maybe this was an aftereffect.
At first, I was bewildered.
Was this truly my brother?
But Gerald’s change wasn’t just in his attitude.
When he went to sword practice, he absorbed instruction like a dry cloth soaked in water.
He made up for lost time in his studies in no time, and even began devouring every book in the library like he did when he was a child.
Among them were apparently old sword manuals (collected as a hobby by our grandfather and great-grandfather), and with each practice session, Gerald would surprise me and his instructors by demonstrating new fighting techniques and sword forms.
And then… he finally managed to defeat me in a single sword strike.
Frustrated? Not at all!
At last, the brother I once believed in had returned.
The emotion I felt then cannot possibly be put into words.
But I am Alissa Vader, heir to the Vader family.
I must play the role of the cold, dependable sister.
So I held back from shouting praise for my beloved brother… but I couldn’t hold back.
Before I knew it, I was hugging Gerald tightly and showering him with every compliment I could think of.
Well, the result was that Gerald ended up pulling away from me completely.
I was pretty down that night… but I knew Gerald was planning something.
And my hunch was right.
He was waiting for the chance to sneak into the dungeon to obtain the ‘Blessing’.
Then, as his sister, I needed to burn the image of his back heading toward the dungeon firmly into my memory.
So from that day on, I camped out in front of the dungeon every day until morning, waiting for Gerald to arrive.
Contrary to my expectations, Gerald showed up three days later.
I’d thought he’d hesitate for about ten days… but it seems he’s grown into quite a decisive man.
“Now, go. And when you return safely, be the first to show me the sword bestowed upon you by the Swordmaker.”
“Yes, Sister!”
Ah, my dear brother.
At last, you have become a man of the Vader family.
I watched him depart, etching his fierce face and dependable back firmly into my memory.