The season was turning to autumn.
Under the eaves of the cabin, green meju lumps bound by straw were drying, growing firm and pungent.
In the middle of the yard stood a large earthenware jar.
Kay opened the lid of the jar with trembling hands.
A deep, rich aroma wafted out.
Although it still carried a faint, raw scent unique to peas, it was unmistakably the smell of soy sauce—a black liquid imbued with the art of fermentation, salty yet sweet.
"It's a success…."
Kay scooped up a bit of the soy sauce with a ladle and tasted it.
It was salty, but then an explosion of umami followed.
It was the greatest achievement of his life.
"With this… at last, I'm free. Free from the hell of salt-roasted meals!"
That evening.
The cabin was filled with an aroma unlike any other.
On a heated iron plate, thin slices of wyvern meat sizzled away. But the color was different. The meat was a glistening brown, coated in a dark, savory sauce—this was wyvern bulgogi.
"What is this? Why is it this color? Did you burn it?"
Artoria Lancer Alter asked with a suspicious glance.
Kay smirked and popped a piece of meat into her mouth.
"Just eat it. Stop complaining."
Artoria Lancer Alter chewed thoughtfully, and then her eyes went wide.
Flash!
It was as if an exclamation mark had popped up over her head.
"…It's delicious!"
"Right?"
"It's sweet, and salty… and the gamey smell is gone! What is this? Is it magic?"
The other children grabbed the chopsticks Kay had made and rushed in.
Artoria stuffed so much meat into her cheeks they nearly burst, and Lily twisted her body in pure delight. Even the picky Artoria Lancer was on the verge of abandoning her elegance to lick the plate clean.
"This right here is the power of soy sauce."
Kay said with a satisfied smile as he grilled more meat.
But Black Knight Ector's reaction was different. He chewed slowly, wearing a deliberately stern expression.
"The taste is good. But Kay, it is a fact that you wasted those peas."
"…Huh?"
"You practically emptied the entire pea field to make this sauce, didn't you? Besides, your hunting record has been poor lately—nothing but common beasts and wyverns. When are you going to bring home a Royal Wyvern or a Chimera?"
Kay scratched his head at Ector's rebuke.
It was true. He had slacked off on his hunting in pursuit of his soy sauce research. And, to be honest, a Royal Wyvern was far too much for a ten-year-old Kay to handle alone. He was barely at the level where he could process the prey Ector brought home.
For the stronger magical beasts, like Chimeras or Krakens, Ector did most of the heavy lifting. For Kay, even a standard wyvern was a struggle.
A mediocre talent…
Merlin's words flashed through his mind.
"You are a mediocre talent. I acknowledge your effort, but the vessel of your talent is simply too small."
Kay forced a bitter smile and flipped the meat.
It wasn't a lie.
He had come this far using the memories of his past life and sheer, desperate effort. But the true geniuses were on another level entirely.
"So, kids, how are Merlin's lessons going? Is that fraud still spouting nonsense in your dreams?"
When Kay changed the subject, the children answered eagerly.
"He's irritating, but he's a great teacher. From the basics of swordsmanship to the art of kingship, everything just clicks," Artoria began.
Artoria Caster followed, "I've learned how to circulate my circuits. Now I can use my mana without any waste!"
"I'm learning advanced dual-wielding. And something called the Cosmic Breath," Artoria X boasted.
Artoria X Alter added, "Manipulating the Force is fun. It's even more fun than choking Merlin."
The children's eyes shone with excitement.
They weren't just learning in their dreams; they spent every spare moment during the day reviewing their lessons.
The wooden sword Artoria swung already produced a sharp whistling sound, and the mana Artoria Alter emitted was so heavy it was hard to believe she was only five years old.
Like sponges absorbing water, they were growing at a terrifying rate.
They're definitely a different species than me.
Of course, Kay didn't feel jealousy or inferiority.
Instead, a dull ache formed in his chest. It was pity.
To have so much talent… and yet, to be born in Britain.
This dying island, this barren land, and the endless onslaught of foreign invaders and magical beasts.
For these children, talent was not a blessing, but a curse.
A destiny to become kings, a destiny to take up the sword and be drenched in blood to protect a nation.
All the misfortunes and trials of Britain would eventually be piled onto those small shoulders.
You all… were born too strong.
Kay silently grilled more meat and placed it on the children's plates.
This was all he could do.
Feed them delicious food to make their bodies strong. And… protect the happiness of this ordinary dinner table for as long as possible.
That night.
Deep in the night, after the children had all fallen asleep.
The cabin door opened quietly, and Kay stepped outside.
He held a sword in his hand.
"Phew…."
The night air was biting.
Kay headed toward a clearing in the woods—the place where Black Knight Ector had mentioned the Royal Wyvern's nest was located.
I'm a mediocre talent. I accept that.
He wasn't blessed by the sun like Gawain, nor did he possess a dragon's heart or fairy blood like his sisters.
But did that mean he should give up?
Should he just stand by and watch while those children marched toward the battlefield?
"No. I can't do that."
An older brother shouldn't just be the one to pick up a sibling after they fall; he should be the one to clear the stones from the path so they never fall in the first place.
Even if he couldn't cleave a boulder in two, he had to be able to block that boulder with his own body.
Grrr…
Red eyes flashed in the darkness.
The Royal Wyvern.
A high-tier magical beast, twice the size of a normal wyvern and far more powerful.
The creature spotted Kay and unfurled its massive wings.
Few would be able to withstand such an overwhelming pressure without trembling.
Kay tightened his grip on his sword, his palms slick with sweat.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't afraid. Truthfully, he wanted to run.
But the faces of his sleeping siblings flashed before his eyes.
Their smiles, the pure happiness they felt while eating a good meal.
"Come on, you overgrown lizard," Kay growled.
The look in his eyes was not the inferiority of the talentless.
It was the desperate, fierce determination of a man who had something to protect.
Whoosh!
The ten-year-old boy launched himself at the gargantuan beast.
He had no innate talent. He had no mana.
But he possessed the survival instincts honed from thousands of hunts and the weight of responsibility for his family—the most powerful weapons of all.
Under the moonlight, the sword dance of the mediocre began.
It was not flashy, but it was heavier and more desperate than the blade of any genius.
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