Claus, for his part, looked quite pleased with this turn of events too. Onlookers watched the heartfelt father-son hug and broke into riotous applause.
Meanwhile, I could only reel from the irony of it all. As I wheezed, clutching at my painfully constricting heart, only one thought kept spinning around and around in my head:
I can’t believe how stupid this is!
I’d spent my whole life forced to undergo rigorous training, all to fulfill my father’s selfish ambitions and expand the Sparring family’s influence. And now it was all for nothing. I was destined to be treated like worthless trash just because I’d lost the blessing lottery.
To pour salt on the wound, my father was now tearfully expressing his pride toward the son he’d basically abandoned for half our lives all because he was sickly. I mean, he’d barely even had a proper conversation with Claus even once.
Instead of taking out his anger on our father—who actually deserved it—Claus beamed as he hugged him, and directed all of his anger at me for all the years he’d been neglected.
I was subjected to raised, angry tones and sarcastic jeering, even though I hadn’t even done anything wrong.
But worst of all, I just stood there and took it. No matter how much they made a fool of me, I couldn’t bring myself to say a single thing in my defense. All I could do was stare back at them, and I hated myself for it. How could I be so pathetic?
I clenched my empty fists as hard as I could and left to head home, alone.
Two days had passed since the Heaven’s Blessing Ceremony.
My father had officially kicked me out.
It had apparently taken only a day for his elation about Claus’s blessing to subside, and for his rage to rekindle. At his command, I’d spent all day yesterday fighting the Sparring trainees alone and unarmed as he hurled an endless stream of vicious reprovals at me.
Why the hell are you so angry at me? I thought, trying in vain to fight off the sense of emptiness that had taken hold inside of me.
When he’d finished upbraiding me, all he left me with was this:
“Leave this house and don’t ever come back. You’re a failure.”
My entire body stung and ached from the beating I’d gotten, and I felt every bit as worn down mentally as I did physically. Pitiful tears streamed down my cheeks as I packed my things into a small bag.
That was all the space I needed—and it was still half empty by the time I was done. Once I’d finished getting dressed, I’d been sternly reminded that most things I might have thought to include belonged to the Sparring family, not me, which left me with very little to take along.
With my small, lightweight bag slung over my shoulder, I trudged toward my bedroom door. But as I walked through it, I tripped over something and fell forward straight onto the floor.
I looked up to check if anyone had seen me and saw Claus standing just in front of the doorway, as if he’d been waiting for me.
“You know, I saved your ass the other day. Were you really gonna just walk out of here without even saying a word of thanks?” he said, in the most condescending tone imaginable.
At this point, it would have been perfectly natural to wonder if I’d done something to Claus to warrant this much vitriol. But honestly, I never did anything to him.
We’d never had a fight or even an argument. In fact, we’d never even really had a conversation.
We’d always been so distant that one might even wonder if we were really family at all.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you. Why are you coming at me like this, anyway?”
Claus bellowed with unhinged laughter. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
Then his expression suddenly shifted, and he looked at me with fury in his eyes.
“Why don’t you think back to how I’ve been treated all these years, huh? Does that ring any bells for you, brother? You got pampered like a prince and given the right to inherit the family title, all because you were born just a few dozen minutes before me. My only sin was exiting the womb a little later than you, and yet father ignored me for my entire life just for that. I’d say my reasons for coming at you are pretty straightforward, wouldn’t you?”
“That had nothing to do with our birth order. Father neglected you because of your frail health, remem—”
“Shut up! I’ve always hated the way you talk down to me, like you’re better than me. Well... Look how the tables have turned!” At this point, Claus broke out into maniacal laughter, the furious expression still fixed on his face. “The Heavens are on my side, brother! They gave me the good blessing and left you with the scraps!”
Part of me felt a little afraid of how unstable he was acting, but the other part of me was bursting with anger for how he was speaking to me like this and treating me like an idiot.
What gave him the right to say all of that to me?
Thanks to his fragile health, our mother had never left his side when we were kids, and the rigorous training my father put me through had barely given me time to spend with her anyway. So, if anyone deserved to feel shortchanged, it was me.
It was hard to say, from an objective perspective, which of us really had it better...but I’d always been jealous of how coddled Claus had been.
“Ever since we were kids, you got all of the attention. Father poured everything into raising you as a proper heir and swordsman. So, tell me, brother: How does it feel to get kicked out, saddled with the fate of toiling the rest of your life as a farmer?!”
“Shut up!” I yelled, pushing myself to my feet.
All of the anger building up inside of me was ready to burst.
For a moment, Claus seemed to recoil. But his expression remained fixed as he unsheathed his sword at his hip and pointed it straight at my face.
“God, will you stop yelling like that? You’re hurting my ears. Listen, you’re not a Sparring anymore, and you’re really pissing me off. You want me to slay you right here, right now?”
The tip of his sword grazed my forehead, drawing a drop of blood that ran down my cheek.
It was a real, steel sword, but I wasn’t the least bit afraid. Any fear I might have felt was probably overshadowed by my anger.
Now that Claus was pointing his sword at me, surely no one could fault me for returning the favor?
After justifying my next move to myself, I grabbed my own sword—a mock, wooden one—from its place at my side and struck the flat of Claus’s sword.
Steel versus wood... This ought to be interesting.
If you were judging by swords alone, then I was clearly at a disadvantage. But as long as I kept striking with the flat like this, I had a fighting chance.
Ironically, this was a chance to put to use the skills I’d built through the grueling training that had taken up my entire childhood.
“What’s this? You really want to fight?” Claus taunted, sniggering. “Fine. Come at me!”
Unable to hide his fury that I dared to fight back after all his jeering, Claus faltered on his feet.
His defense was as shaky as his balance. His sword shook unsteadily as he swung it, leaving him wide open for an attack from any angle.
I landed a heavy blow to his right hand, which seemed to radiate up his wrist and all the way to the other side of his torso.
He buckled—presumably from the pain—doubling over to his right, and I immediately took that opportunity to strike his left shoulder and stab his unguarded chest with all the force I could muster. He tumbled backward, as if his feet had lost all traction.
It was a perfect hit. I knew that the force of being struck in the chest like that would probably knock the air right out of him.
I looked down at him as he lay on the floor, motionless. Feeling the bile rising in my throat, I grabbed my bag and made to leave, when...
“H-Hey! I’m not finished with you yet!”
I turned around to see him clutching at his chest, his face contorted in a look of agony. Despite the pain he must have been in, he stood up, ready to continue.
But there was no point in dragging this out.
“We’re done here,” I said. “You really ticked me off, but I’ve no interest in kicking a man when he’s down.”