Chapter 9 : Chapter 9
Chapter 9: The Selection Ceremony (3)
‘Has he gone senile?’
Suddenly, Simurtr had such a thought.
The sense of unease he had once felt suddenly pushed its way up.
‘Who puts murder in a kids’ test?’
Medeoban had said the prisoners were real, but it was a lie. How many times had he stabbed flesh and blood in his life?
No matter how elaborate the illusion, it couldn’t perfectly craft even that sensation.
‘There’s no reason to perfectly realize the bones or organs. What a waste of mana.’
There was no reason to put that much effort into a mere selection ceremony. The participants wouldn’t know even if it were made carelessly.
When would those young things have ever killed a person? In an era like this.
“This is the selection ceremony?”
Ael, who had been hit squarely by the prisoner’s coughing up of blood due to her clumsy sword thrust, said.
“Grandfather is overseeing it. He must have his reasons.”
Though he said that, Jahar’s expression was also ambiguous.
“What’s the original selection ceremony like?”
Simurtr asked the siblings.
“They said it’s not usually divided like this.”
“They said there is only one test. The participants cross swords, and are scored.”
“And the person with the highest score is the winner?”
“Yes. Usually, the direct descendant is the highest. A branch family member who shows an impressive performance is recommended as an adopted son.”
It was the siblings’ first time killing.
They said they had never received any related education beforehand.
‘Is it because Gerehk died?’
He thought it must be the influence of the war. Because so many Mectera swordsmen had died on the battlefield.
But Gerehk’s death would have hit them harder. Because the son who had inherited the position of Sword Master had died.
‘Though he died after the war ended, his injuries must have been sustained during the war.’
Perhaps that was why Medeoban’s nerves were on edge.
‘He must want to raise them to be strong.’
Of course, he didn’t like that the start of that ‘strong’ was murder.
‘He should have done it during the war. Now of all times.’
Simurtr looked at the siblings.
Murder, for kids who were only 17. This was an era called the era of peace. But of all places, they had to be born in Mectera.
“But Simurtr. You’re 16, right?”
A break and lunch time were given.
A meal after a murder. The menu was meat. When he pierced it with a knife, blood dripped out as it wasn’t fully cooked.
“No. I’m 17.”
He didn’t know who had decided it, but it was truly nasty. Simurtr answered as he saw the participants retching in various places.
“Lies. Everyone in the main estate knows you’re 16.”
“My birth was registered late.”
“By whom?”
“Your father?”
“Hurry up and call me noona.”
“No. Go hear it from Beden.”
Including his past life, he might be older than the siblings’ mother.
“I’m not playing with him anymore.”
“Why.”
“I didn’t know he was such an ill-mannered brat.”
The parental insult, too. He didn’t like brats who showed they hadn’t been taught well. They had played together because they got along to some extent. He hadn’t known he would be so inconsiderate.
‘I want to get close to this guy.’
But Simurtr was different.
He showed that he had been taught well, even though he was exiled.
His appearance, his personality. He was superior to Beden in every way.
‘And how was he in the test just now?’
Ael had never seen such a bold and chilling scene. Her heart had pounded watching it. She had thought it would be fun, but she hadn’t known it would be to this extent.
“Call me brother. I have never associated with Beden.”
Her older brother, Jahar, must be thinking the same thing.
‘He only ever criticized Beden.’
To think Jahar, who had always been interested only in his own progress, would show that much interest.
“No. I don’t do that for kids who are weaker than me.”
“So you’ll do it if I win?”
“Then if I win, you’ll call me noona?”
The siblings’ eyes shone at the same time.
“Try it.”
The siblings clenched their fists.
***
“An unpleasant chatter.”
Medeoban said to the participants.
10 people. 5 had been eliminated. They did not know the reality of the illusion-crafted prisoners, and could not kill them.
“Then let’s start right away.”
At the same time, the shadow shot up.
The participants, seeing it cover the sky, closed their eyes.
“Hiss.”
A sensation that made one think of death, where the five senses are momentarily paralyzed.
‘Have you no manners?’
The invited Degrate was too insincere. Simurtr, seeing the suddenly wide-open view, furrowed his brow.
‘The illusionary world.’
The world that the fairy race had created and lived in. The prison from before was also like that. It was probably created in some corner of the illusionary world.
‘Where did the passage go.’
The illusionary world was a place he had been to a few times in his past life. He hadn't been moved like he had been kidnapped like this. He had never experienced the paralysis of his senses.
‘I don’t know which bastard it is.’
He wanted to pull out the shadow later and check his face. If it was a face he knew…….
“No. Let’s endure it. I have to endure it.”
What if it really was a face he knew? He had no intention of revealing his identity. Simurtr let out a sigh and scanned his surroundings.
“A single path?”
In the middle of a single path. On both sides, the forest was lush.
It was so dense that there was no room to step, as if to say not to use any path other than the single path.
“Area 1. Defend.”
There was no sincerity. But it was intuitive.
Simurtr thought as he looked at the green letters engraved on the back of his hand.
In front, the entrance to the forest was visible, and behind, the single path continued endlessly.
“It must mean I’m at the very front.”
The entrance to the forest. Someone would probably walk up soon. It must mean to stop that someone.
The single path had been cut in places to divide the areas. The other participants would be in charge of those areas.
“And that someone will also be a participant.”
Suddenly, the siblings’ words came to mind.
They said the participants would cross swords with each other. Perhaps that was this test. Simurtr surveyed Area 1.
He stood at the entrance to the forest and walked straight down the single path, but at a certain point, he could go no further.
It was as if something transparent was blocking the way.
It must be Degrate’s illusion. As he was thinking that, letters suddenly appeared in the air.
<Challenger, depart>
“It’s definitely because it’s Area 1.”
It didn’t seem like it would be boring.
Someone was already visible at the entrance to the forest. Simurtr grinned as he saw the man approaching.
“A participant.”
He didn’t know his name, but he remembered his face. He was one of the branch family members who had killed the prisoner quite easily.
The 10 participants would probably take turns acting as the challenger.
“That’s a relief.”
When the distance had closed enough for his expression to be visible, the challenger said.
“What is?”
“I’ll be able to get at least 1 point.”
The challenger had a smile on his face.
“He said it’s 1 point for each area you pass. A total of nine areas. 9 points is a perfect score.
The letters that appeared in the air told me.”
“Ah. So you’ve already got 1 point?”
Only after hearing that did Simurtr understand his smile.
“Right. It shouldn’t be difficult as long as it’s not a direct descendant’s area.”
Simurtr let out a hollow laugh. That challenger was confident that he would reach the direct descendants’ areas.
“Sword ki at 16. It’s an unprecedented achievement, but it doesn’t mean you’re strong right now.”
Objectively speaking, he must have just barely made it. The challenger said.
“The first test?”
“The prisoner I was in charge of had committed fraud against a merchant guild.”
“My prisoner was particularly vicious?”
“Right. If it were that kind of prisoner, I would have killed him immediately too.”
In truth, it wasn’t such a baseless claim. They would think he had just awakened his sword ki this year. The challenger looked to be around 20.
He had waited for this selection ceremony until the direct descendants turned 17. He must have been at the realm of sword ki for quite some time.
“Interesting.”
How long had it been since he had been ignored like this?
It was different from Beden. They were ignoring his ability. It was truly rare to be ignored for his skill.
“What’s your name?”
Simurtr stood up from his spot and drew his sword.
The sword was covered in a green light. It was an illusion engraved by Degrate so that it couldn’t inflict wounds.
“…It is Toben.”
Toben said with a stiff face. His reaction was a bit late. He had drawn his sword after his opponent.
Because Simurtr standing up. Drawing his sword. Taking his stance. That series of actions had felt so natural.
“You won’t get hurt. It will hurt, though.”
A green light. A familiar illusion. If you cut with this, no wound is left. But the pain is felt in its entirety.
“You’ve got a mouth on you.”
The current distance. It was a distance the sword couldn’t reach. Confirming that fact, Toben’s tension completely loosened.
That adopted son didn’t even know the distance between swordsmen. It was a bluff. If he was going to say something like that, he should have at least come within the sword’s range…….
“Even if it hurts, bear it.”
The symbol of Star-Breaking Style was its dizzying power and speed.
The mana completed two rotations at the same time he thought of operating it.
“What……”
Swoosh!
As Toben uttered the first syllable, a long, extended white sword ki brushed past Toben.
“Huh?”
Toben was staring blankly ahead. He had belatedly realized that Simurtr had swung his sword by seeing that his stance had changed.
“Aargh!”
Only after Simurtr had sheathed his sword did Toben scream at the pain he felt in his neck.
***
<Challenger, depart>
“Hah.”
Looking at the screen formed by Degrate, Medeoban swallowed his surprise.
<Challenger, depart>
The speed at which the words were engraved in the air was fast.
Simurtr was sitting at the entrance to the forest, waiting for the challenger.
<Challenger, depart>
When a challenger entered, he would immediately draw his sword, swing, the white sword ki would wrap around their neck, and the challenger would scream.
“It really is white.”
It was particularly intense even when viewed through the screen. The shadow on the road was constantly twitching.
That Degrate, who had personally created the illusionary world as the test site, was directly feeling that white mana, whose presence was particularly strong.
“It is strange. To think an adopted son who is not even a direct descendant would possess such a quality.”
It was like the mana possessed by the absolute beings.
The imperial family of the empire. The exiles of the floating island.
Those who had held their positions brilliantly, or tenaciously, for a long time, would form mana of such a quality.
‘He was like that too.’
The hero of the Doom War. Exa Mectera also had the same kind of mana. He remembered it being even more intense than theirs.
The sun. Exa had compared his mana to that. He remembered unwittingly nodding his head at those words.
‘They are similar.’
Moreover… that color. The dazzling, white mana similar to Exa’s stimulated the three, excluding Orde.
‘But that is all. It must be a simple mutation.’
Nostalgia remains just nostalgia.
There is no connection between Exa and Simurtr.
Though the quality of the mana one possesses depends on the family’s training method, birth is more of a priority.
‘But that school was said to be a single-succession one.’
Unlike Simurtr, Exa was not born with such a quality. Hadn’t he not even been able to feel mana in the first place?
He had said that the reason his mana was white after he had felt and accumulated it was due to the characteristics of his school. It was the influence of the master he had met after being exiled from Mectera.
It meant that even if someone inherited Exa’s blood, their mana would not have the same quality.
‘How long has it been since he died?’
That blood. That unique mana of his school.
Neither could have been passed down to Simurtr. If he were of his bloodline, he should have been born long ago. The Exa Baperr who should have carried on the succession had died more than 20 years ago.
His master was still alive, but he had disappeared after the death of Exa Baperr. There was no way he would have visited Simurtr’s place of exile at such a convenient time.
‘It could be considered a relief.’
Medeoban glanced at the shadow on the road, then stole a glance at Aran.
He was no different from Degrate. Aran would flinch every time Simurtr let out his mana.
‘He does not change.’
He had experienced the position of Head of the Sword of all the Sword Orders once. He had become a mentor to the swordsmen of the main estate. In his later years, he had founded a new Sword Order and even served as its Head of the Sword.
Though decades had already passed since he had become a swordsman of Mectera, Aran was still perfectly carrying out all his duties as a Head of the Sword.
‘It means he is more important than the direct descendants of the main estate.’
But such an Aran does not call the direct descendants of Mectera ‘Young Master.’
While following the ideology of Mectera, he follows Exa, who was a mere adopted son and not a direct descendant, even more.
‘To a mere ghost.’
As soon as the challenger, Ael, entered the forest, her neck was cut by Simurtr. And yet, Aran’s gaze was not on Ael, but on the white sword ki that had cut it.