Chapter 9 - Dad's Rank

Chapter 9 - Dad's Rank

A few minutes passed before a bustling waitress arrived, laden with heavy ceramic plates. The food was hot, rich, and smelled like pure comfort. We ate in relative silence at first. I meticulously picked at my seasoned ground beef, analyzing the flavor profile, while Lyra absolutely demolished her steak, chewing aggressively like a wild animal that hadn't seen a meal in weeks.

As expected, the quiet didn't last very long.

"Tell us the details now, Papa!" Lyra demanded, thick bits of steak visibly stuffed into her cheeks.

Thorskil sighed heavily, setting his iron utensils down on the wood with exaggerated patience. "Fine, fine. You two genuinely want to know how the martial hierachy works?"

"Yuh-huh!" She replied around a mouthful of meat.

Thorskil chuckled, pulling out a tissue as he rubbed it around Lyra's mouth. Then, he leaned back comfortably against the booth.

"Alright then. When it comes to formal swordsmen in this world, there are roughly seven standard titles an individual can earn through hard work, and two exclusive ranks that no one can achieve through normal human means."

Lyra sat up perfectly straight, her eyes widening.

"Nine tiers in total?" I spoke out loud, my mind immediately organizing the data I gathered.

Thorskil nodded, confirming. "Mhm. At the very bottom, you have Sword Novice. From there, a swordsman progresses through the standard tiers."

Our father began explaining that the martial hierarchy consists of nine distinct tiers: starting from the bottom with Sword Novice , a warrior climbs through Sword Intermediate , Sword Advanced , and Sword Expert to reach the High Master ranks of Sword Saint , Sword King , and Sword Emperor , before finally touching the impossible Divine Tiers of Sword God and Sword Titan .

"Woahh!" Lyra was so impressed by the naming convention that she accidentally stabbed her steak with too much force, launching a small piece of meat flying across the table.

I blinked, staring at my father's calm eyes

"So... which specific one are you?"

"Sword God," Thorskil replied simply, casually lifting his clay cup to take a slow sip of water. "There are currently only two of us actively existing in the entire world."

Lyra gasped, "You're a Sword God?! No way!"

My iron fork paused mid-air while my gaze locked onto him, a piece of beef hovering inches from my mouth.

"Wait, if there are only two Sword Gods," I stammered, putting my fork down on the plate, "then who or what exactly is the Sword Titan?"

Thorskil set his cup back down, "That would be the Blade God."

"Another god? God, god, gods... So many damn gods," I sighed, raising my eyebrows in mild exasperation. "What is the deal with the world? Do we just collect divine entities like trading cards now?"

Thorskil burst into a soft laugh, "Haha, funny concept, son. But the Blade God isn't a martial title. It is a literal deity. You could say he was the original swordsman. The divine entity who conceptualized and created the very framework of swordsmanship itself. If the rest of us warriors are merely masters of the craft, then he is the blueprint."

"Then why don't you just train harder and become a Sword Titan too?! Become a blueprint, or something." Lyra asked dramatically, violently pounding her small fist onto the table. "You are my dad! You should obviously be the strongest person to ever exist!"

He laughed lightly, reaching over to pat her head. "I highly appreciate the vote of confidence, sweetie, but divine titles like that aren't exactly handed out like dessert at the end of a meal. Besides, I am doing just fine functioning as a 'God' at my current rank, thank you very much."

I chewed my food slowly, thinking about the insane lore drop.

Sword God? Second highest rank? Huh, one of only two in the entire world. And he acts like it's a completely mundane detail.

I took a slow sip of water. Then, a deeper curiosity nudged at my analytical nature.

"Dad, I do wonder. Now that you've mentioned gods... just how many actual gods exist in the world?"

Thorskil raised a singular, amused eyebrow. "Do you mean real deities, title-holding warriors, or just regular folks who loudly proclaim themselves to be gods at taverns after consuming five pints of heavy ale?"

I blinked flatly.

"... Let's start with the real ones."

Thorskil nodded.

"Alright. If we are going down that road, then we are going to need some dessert to accompany the tale."

As if magically summoned by the mere mention of storytelling, our empty dinner plates were quickly cleared by the waitress and replaced with sweet treats. The waitress deposited two beautiful, honey-glazed berry tarts in front of Lyra and me, and a modest custard pudding for Thorskil.

In his excitement for the lore drop, Thorskil had completely forgotten about his own strict punishment regarding Lyra's ban on sweets for the week. The millisecond the pastry touched the wood, Lyra face-planted directly into it.

"Soooo good!" She squealed ecstatically, her mouth already half-full of bright red berry glaze.

I snorted out a laugh at the ridiculous sight.

"Maybe try actually chewing the food before it ends up coming out of your nose."

Lyra gave me a side-eye as she continued eating.

Thorskil chuckled softly, leaning comfortably back in his seat while steepling his fingers together. "Now then, as promised. Let's talk about the pantheon."

He looped up toward the wooden ceiling for a fleeting moment, as if counting them off in his head.

"There are precisely seven true, cosmic deities governing our world, Kyro. Each one is unimaginably powerful, and each one is intrinsically tied to a fundamental concept far deeper than basic elemental magic."

I instinctively sat forward, my attention entirely locked onto his words.

The Blade God

"First, as we mentioned, is the Blade God," he said, looking directly into my eyes. "The original creator of swordsmanship. The singular reason people like myself even have a path to walk. Every technique, every single style generated across the continents, well, they are all just flawed human imitations of his original divine movements. He is far more myth than man at this point in history... absolutely no one has physically seen him manifest in tens of thousands of years."

My eyes widened slightly. My mind immediately pictured a mythical warrior whose casual sword strokes could cleanly split mountain ranges in half. "But he is real..." I asked. "Right?"

"Oh, he is very real," Thorskil nodded solemnly. "But you won't find him casually sipping tea at an adventurer's guild hall, that is for certain."

The Wind God

"Next, we have the Wind God." He gestured loosely toward the open restaurant window, where a gentle midday breeze caused the linen curtain to flutter. "The Goddess of flight, absolute freedom, and the open sky. She is fiercely beloved by birds, skyfolk, and various winged beast species. If you ever feel a sudden, overwhelming sense of wanderlust, chances are high that she is whispering directly into your ear."

Lyra gasped dramatically, her face lighting up. "Maybe that is the exact reason I always feel the urge to climb up onto the house roofs!"

Thorskil turned to her. "No, dear. That is called being a menace. Haha."

I let out a loud chuckle, which immediately earned me a fierce glare from Lyra. I wisely shut my mouth.

The Shield God

"Then we have the Shield God," his deep voice softening with a distinct layer of reverence. "The patron deity and the creator of humanity, and the absolute concept of protection. He is the sole reason humans are capable of manifesting Aura, and the primary reason our species is so incredibly... persistent."

Lyra chimed in, pointing a fork. "Aura is his doing."

"Correct. Think of him as the divine patron of stubborn human survival. He isn't flashy, and his magic isn't destructive, but he is the exact reason humanity is still standing on this map." Thorskil explained.

I took a slow sip of water, looking closely at my father. "Are we as humans really that naturally helpless? Did the Shield God have to bless us with divine armor just so we wouldn't immediately go extinct?"

"Mmm, no, not necessarily," Thorskil clarified, shaking his head. "Humanity, entirely on its own merits, is capable of achieving incredible things. However, in the grand scheme of the world, we are physically overshadowed by far more naturally powerful, long-lived races. The Shield God simply granted us the ability to keep pace with them through the utilization of Aura, making a trained human exceptionally hard to kill."

"Ah, I see. That makes logical sense," I nodded.

The Nature God

"The Nature God comes next," Thorskil continued his explanation. "The Goddess governing the elves, the flow of water, and plant life. She is historically depicted as incredibly graceful, gentle, and nurturing... but you must never, under any circumstances, anger her."

Lyra nodded along with solemnity. "Nature moms are terrifying."

"Truer words have never been spoken, sweetheart."

The Flame God

"Now, we have the Flame God." Thorskil's eyebrows lifted significantly. "The deity governing dragons, darkons, and any scorching races, giving them the ability to wield or breathe fire. He is... exceptionally intense. He is a literal fire incarnate."

"Darkons? What are those?"

"It is a beastkin with dragon-like features."

"Oh. Okay." I shrugged.

The Demon God

"Then comes the Demon God," Thorskil said. "The fierce protector of the wild factions. Orcs, Ogres, Trolls. Let's just say the vast majority of Beastkins and Beastfolks worship his name. And the Demon races do too, obviously. He is often profoundly misunderstood by human kingdoms, but his dogma values raw strength, absolute loyalty, and tribal unity."

He cast a subtle glance toward the distant corner of the restaurant where the four adventurers had hurriedly relocated earlier. With a short sniff...

"Most of those lads over there worship him in secret, whether they care to admit it publicly or not." he added.

The Lightning God

"And finally—" Thorskil tapped his iron fork lightly against his ceramic plate to emphasize the final point. "The Lightning God. The deity of absolute doom, chaotic storms, and righteous war. It is said he strikes down corrupt tyrants and actively raises legendary heroes from nothing. His followers never pray for mercy; they only ever pray for a defined purpose."

A silence settled over our table as Lyra and I processed the staggering scale of this theological information. Lyra looked entirely captivated, her face smeared with honey and berry bits, while my own mind immediately began spinning its gears.

As the shock of the lore drop faded, the analytical, detail-oriented chemist inside me took over.

I set my fork down, staring intently at my father.

"Hey, Dad... why exactly are they named like that?"

Thorskil paused, his spoon hovering just above his custard pudding as he blinked down at me.

"What do you mean, son? Named like what?"

"Well... it just feels completely random," I explained, gesturing vaguely with my hands as my mind picked apart the asymmetry. "I mean, look at the categorization. You have Wind, Flame, and Lightning, which are literal elemental forces of nature. But then you have a Blade and a Shield, which are.. manufactured tools. And to top it off, you have Nature and Demon, which are broad biological domains or races. It lacks any kind of cohesive pattern."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the smooth wood of the table.

"If there is a designated Flame God, shouldn't there be an independent Water God to naturally counterbalance the element? And if the Blade God only governs swordsmanship, then who exactly looks after the adventurers who fight using spears, halberds, axes, or bows? It just seems weird."

Thorskil stared at me for a quiet beat, thoroughly surprised by the sheer depth of a four-year-old's critique. Then, a booming chuckle escaped his chest, and he leaned back comfortably against the cushioned booth.

"I completely see where you are coming from, Kyro. And that is a good question." Thorskil said, flashing a highly amused grin. "You are looking for a perfect, orderly pattern in a world built by incredibly eccentric entities. The simple reality of the matter is this: the gods are the ones who ultimately named themselves. They didn't exactly sit down at a round table with a group of mortal scholars to ensure their titles neatly matched a textbook."

He took a slow sip of his drink, his rose-colored eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You want a Water God? That is explicitly the Nature God's jurisdiction. To the elves, the spirits, and the creatures of the forest, water isn't just an isolated element—it is what keeps life on the world thriving, so she naturally claimed it under her divine arms. And as for axes, spears, or longbows? Every single one of those weapons still falls directly under the supreme authority of the Blade God."

Thorskil shrugged his shoulders, his tone turning delightfully casual.

"He was the absolute pioneer of martial intent, the very first entity to pick up a tool with the explicit purpose of fighting. When it came time for him to claim a divine title, he just settled on the 'Blade God.' If you ask the old masters, they'll tell you he probably just thought the word 'Blade' sounded the most intimidating and cool out of all the options. When you are powerful enough to split the sky, well, no one is going to stand up and argue that your naming convention lacks any kind of logical symmetry. We never truly know what goes through those ancient heads of theirs."

A dry, amused smile tugged at the corners of my lips as the underlying logic finally clicked into place.

Oh... okay, I thought, letting out a soft sigh as I gave a satisfied nod.

It figured. I had been looking for a perfectly balanced fantasy RPG framework. Instead, the supreme architects of reality operated entirely on the universal "rule of cool." It was chaotic, irrational, and completely unpredictable—which, ironically, made this magical new world feel all the more interesting.

Lyra blinked rapidly, lazily licking the residual honey glaze off her sticky fingers. "Sooo... what happens if a person decides to just worship all seven of them at the exact same time?"

Thorskil chuckled heartily, leaning forward. "Then that individual must have a massive amount of religious holidays to keep track of on their calendar."

"Yeah, okay, that might be a problem... but it also sounds kind of fun?" Lyra said out loud, tapping her chin.

She suddenly snapped her attention back to Thorskil, her eyes wide with a new ambition.

"Papa! I just had a brilliant idea! How about you start training me right now to become a Sword God just like you?!"

Thorskil paused mid-bite, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shifted in his seat. "Mmm... No can do."

"Oh, come on! How about later this afternoon when we finally get back home? I am practically an adult already, and I want to be insanely strong!"

"Well, you're eight; you have seven years more, and you'll be an official adult."

"But still! I can handle it, Papa! Trust me!"

Thorskil hummed, "Then we should probably look into securing you a professional trainer if you are genuinely serious about pursuing the path of sword fighting." Thorskil deflected smoothly.

Lyra pouted heavily, crossing her arms. "Why? Can't you just train me yourself?"

"Nope." Thorskil repeated, offering a warm, unyielding smile that brooked no further argument.

I leaned back heavily in my wooden chair, feeling completely dazed by the sheer scale of the reality I had been dropped into.

"Seven gods, nine tiers of bladesmanship, each with their own legacy." I muttered more to myself

My father noticed my expression and offered a slow nod. He must've heard what I whispered. "Exactly, Kyro. The world is vast. And sometimes... these deities choose to select individual champions. Remarkable people who carry a small, living spark of their divine power. They're called the Blessed Ones."

Lyra gasped loudly, clutching her chest. "Like you, Papa?!"

"Well, yes." Thorskil gave a tiny, humble smile, nodding his head. "But before I became the Sword God, I walked an entirely human path of my own making. But perhaps one day... one of you two will catch a god's eye."

The silence that followed his statement wasn't awkward or anxiety-inducing. It was remarkably warm, thoughtful, and full of infinite possibilities.

"Then, how exactly did you earn your title as the Sword God? I want that exact same title!" Lyra demanded one last time, refusing to let the topic die.

"I will tell you that story next time," Thorskil laughed heartily, sliding his chair back as he stood up. "I promise."

And with that, my father laid down the proper amount of silver pieces on the wood to pay for the meal, and the three of us exited the warm tavern, stepping back out into the bustling streets of Fritz.

[End]