Reincarnated as the Adopted Son of a Prestigious Swordsmanship Family

Chapter 10: The Selection Ceremony (4)

The 4th Star of Star-Breaking Style.

Simurtr had reached that realm at an earlier age than in his past life.

The vast amount of mana required for Star-Breaking Style.

Considering that he had not yet begun to seriously consume elixirs to substitute for it, it was a quite satisfactory achievement.

‘Because it’s a path I’ve already climbed.’

It wasn’t a new path. It was a path he had already traveled, so there was no fear of getting lost.

It was pleasant, without any obstacles. The sword and mana. The difficult problems related to them already had no walls, thanks to his prior experience in his past life.

‘Though I’m terribly short on mana.’

When he reached the 4th Star of Star-Breaking Style in his past life, he had the overwhelming support of his master. Countless elixirs. His master had not been stingy and had used his entire fortune on his disciple.

“What is this! Who kills someone as soon as it starts!”

Ael, who had just been cut, shouted as she clutched her neck. Degrate’s illusion-treated body was not damaged, but the sensation was clear.

“You should have been careful.”

“This is cheating!”

As expected of a Mectera.

The pain must be immense, and yet she could speak so well.

“See you later.”

“Grr……”

Simurtr grinned as he watched the disappearing Ael. With this, he had sent off one noona.

Ael would continue to be Ael.

<Challenger, depart>

At the same time as Ael disappeared, the words were engraved in the air. This was the 9th challenger. The last. And among the previous challengers, Jahar was not there.

“I can’t let this slide.”

Though he was a properly mannered eldest son unlike Beden, he had not the slightest intention of calling a 17-year-old brat brother.

“He’s here.”

A figure appeared at the entrance.

Jahar, who had started to walk slowly, was already drawing his sword.

In response, Simurtr operated his Star-Breaking Style.

Mana spread outwards from the center of his body. A habit honed on the battlefield, of scattering mana within a certain radius to widen his sensory perception.

‘I can manage a Sword Net……’

His unit members had named this detection method the Sword Net , but seeing Exa find children in danger with uncanny ability, they had also called it the Boy Soldier Detector.

‘But now, 5 meters is the limit.’

He was struck anew by the gap between his current and past self.

When he was worn out by the war, he could do it from much farther away.

“The previous eight were eliminated in this area.”

“Still, those who will pass, will pass.”

5 meters. Jahar entered the radius of the Sword Net. Jahar’s mana was clearly felt. Just by comparing the sheer amount… it was several times more than his own.

‘It’s good to be a direct descendant.’

He felt that Mectera was indeed a prestigious family. The starting point itself was different.

The siblings possessed an amount of mana that others would be hard-pressed to accumulate even after a lifetime of training.

‘Still, the kids are manageable.’

It wasn’t a big problem. Honestly, if he were to bring his past life’s level to a fight against kids, that would be embarrassing in its own way.

“And Ael?”

“Of course she’ll pass.”

“As her older brother, I am glad to hear that.”

“But Ael has become Ael.”

“And I will become brother.”

Jahar retorted.

He was pleased with both the fact that Ael had been acknowledged by Simurtr and the fact that she had been defeated.

Simurtr was a skilled fighter on par with a formal swordsman.

To be acknowledged by such a youngest, and to have his noona position fall.

“Ael said that too.”

“My younger sister was on the lazy side.”

“Is our eldest son different?”

“…Saying that I am different makes it seem like I am criticizing my younger sister. I wish for our sibling relationship to be good.”

“Wouldn’t it be so if you gave up on being brother?”

“No. I like my younger brother.”

He was a younger brother who resembled the Mectera he loved. Bloodline? That didn’t matter. Mectera was used to adopted sons.

“Jahar.”

“It is brother Jahar.”

Whoosh. Jahar closed the distance in an instant. The black color that symbolized Mectera enveloped his entire body.

Simurtr’s hair was thrown back by the gust of wind that had risen. It was the moment he had operated his Star-Breaking Style. The great sword of Mectera. The white sword ki met it head-on.

‘Wow.’

Amidst the deafening roar.

Simurtr felt a stiffness in his shoulder. The rotation of the 2nd Star had been pushed back.

‘The 2nd Star was enough for Ael.’

He easily dodged Jahar’s approaching sword. In the process, he tried to stab his side, but it didn’t work.

The black mana enveloping his entire body was serving as an excellent shield.

‘He’s not the eldest son for nothing. He’s a model of Mectera.’

The nostalgia of when he had faced Medeoban and Gerehk once stimulated Simurtr.

The strong sword characteristic of Mectera. Jahar was like a model of that.

‘This body is weak. To feel a twinge from just that.’

They were Mectera, called the patriarchs of the sword.

Naturally, they had mastered all swordsmanship. But all the swordsmanship practiced by Mectera, ironically, was described as the ‘great sword.’

Great sword. That is what the world called the sword of Mectera. The Mectera bloodline was associated with the image of an impossibly large giant.

‘It’s the opposite.’

The Mectera bloodline does not possess a powerful physique. Rather, it is the opposite.

Their body lines are generally thin, and they are born with flexible and elastic muscles.

Just by looking at their appearance, the expressions ‘giant’ or ‘great sword’ are truly unfitting.

And yet, the reason they are called the great sword… lies in the quality of that mana.

The impossibly heavy, black mana characteristic of Mectera.

‘It means they fill their lack of strength with mana. Because there is nothing to fault except for their lack of strength.’

Jahar’s mana is caught in the Sword Net.

He is trying to stab his knee, but the Sword Net is telling him that it is the wrong answer.

Bang. An explosion roared from the left. The sword that had been bending behind his knee suddenly whipped around and aimed for Simurtr’s shoulder.

“Mectera is tricky.”

“It is brother who is tricky.”

Though the sword trembled, it never lost its strength. That black mana made it possible.

Even with such a variable sword, its power surpassed the 2nd Star of Star-Breaking Style.

‘The 2nd Star is my limit right now.’

The black mana covering Jahar was, in itself, an excellent defense. With the mana of the 2nd Star, no matter what trick he used, he couldn't break through it.

A barrier. Simurtr, reminded of another expression for Mectera, clicked his tongue. It was a loss to drag this out. This current body was truly pathetic.

‘Did he eat elixirs for baby food?’

Clang. A thrust aimed at his heart is easily blocked.

Far from piercing the black mana, it was repelled in its entirety. Simurtr narrowly dodged a strike aimed at his neck.

‘This is an illusionary world.’

There was no hesitation in aiming for vital points.

Simurtr, seeing Jahar’s serious eyes, let out a hollow laugh.

‘What a poor sight.’

The reason Jahar could constantly push him like this, and seem to be on equal footing… was simple. It was because he was holding back his rotations.

It wasn't because he was ignoring Jahar. It was his own problem. He was terribly short on mana to do as he pleased.

‘So fucking pathetic.’

The selection ceremony wasn’t over yet. He was terribly short on mana. He needed to conserve as much of his mana as possible.

‘My body is also like trash.’

I’ve gotten a lot weaker. Simurtr was struck anew by his reincarnation.

The lack of mana had been chronic in his past life as well, but it hadn’t been this bad.

‘It’s also because the initial efficiency of Star-Breaking Style is bad.’

Star-Breaking Style is an operation method that amplifies its power with each rotation. When using 2 units of mana to perform 2 rotations, it has the power of 4.

‘But that’s not as easy as it sounds.’

Ironically, the mana required for each rotation also increases exponentially.

The mana required to operate the 3rd Star is several times greater than the mana required for the 2nd Star rotation. With a 2nd Star level of mana, a 3rd Star rotation is impossible.

Mana is an important factor for any practitioner, but it is even more so for a successor of Star-Breaking Style.

‘Making immense mana even more immense.’

That was the secret of Star-Breaking Style that his master always emphasized. It was also the reason his master had force-fed elixirs to Exa in his past life.

It is a power to break stars. The required mana, and the amount of increase, are both large.

‘Three rotations.’

The 3rd Star. Even at this moment, the Sword Net was telling him Jahar’s level. That he could overwhelm Jahar with a 3rd Star rotation.

‘I have to hold back on the 4th Star as much as possible.’

It was a body comparable to trash. Moreover, he was 16. It had not yet fully matured. A 4th Star rotation puts a considerable strain on the body.

In the first place, he didn't have enough mana to use a 4th Star rotation easily, but. Anyway.

“I may not know swordsmanship, but I am superior in mana.”

The black mana that had enveloped Jahar’s entire body expanded and then concentrated on his sword.

“I will become brother.”

Jahar shouted in that moment.

Simurtr’s attention was drawn not to the black mana, but to the words Jahar had said.

“You are Jahar.”

The moment all of Jahar’s mana was concentrated on his sword.

Simurtr, without realizing it, finished his 4th Star rotation. It seemed as if he had suddenly swung his sword wide, and then he was already inside Jahar’s guard.

“What……”

By the time Jahar realized his movement, Simurtr’s sword had already passed through the top of his head.

“Guhk……!”

The condensed mana scattered at the chilling, excruciating pain. Jahar clutched his body and at the same time, lowered his gaze.

From the top of his head to his groin. A green light was drawn in a straight line. If this had been reality and not an illusionary world, he would have been split in half.

“If you want to size up your opponent, you should do it after you cut off their head.”

Simurtr grinned as he looked at the collapsed Jahar. Jahar and Ael were certainly quite different.

When Jahar let out a groan, Ael had let out a piercing scream.

“There’s something to be learned from the lazy Ael. She doesn’t get this excited even when she sees an opening.”

Not because she was used to the pain, but because her body could withstand the attack. It meant that Ael’s body was sturdier than Jahar’s.

“…There is still a chance left.”

He was slowly getting used to the pain. Jahar said through gritted teeth. Because he felt his own shortcomings.

The sense of emptiness from losing to his younger brother had disappeared thanks to Simurtr’s advice.

“What chance?”

“It will soon be your turn to be the challenger. I will win then.” Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs nοvelfire.net

“But my score will still be higher, won’t it? You’re at 1 point now.”

“It wasn’t about the score, but if I win.”

“…Well. Try it.”

Simurtr looked at the disappearing Jahar with a reluctant face. He must still be in a lot of pain, but his lips were forming a smile.

“He won’t break.”

He’s so upright, I’m afraid he’ll break. Meram had once described Jahar that way.

It was a hasty judgment. There is no age for learning. Everyone would agree, but not many would welcome it when they experience it firsthand.

But Jahar had accepted his defeat by his younger brother without resistance. It was an excellent fighting spirit. The desire to win creates flexibility.

“Though his purpose seems strange.”

Anyway. It wasn't that bad. What’s good is good.

<Challenger Simurtr, perfect score>

“Hah……”

After the second test was over.

Jahar and Ael let out a sigh at the same time.

In the end, Jahar was Jahar, and Ael was Ael.

***

The shadow once again covered the participants.

In the air of the grand training ground, the shadow was displaying the scores.

Simurtr - Perfect score.

Toben - 1 point.

Hanes - 1 point.

Howes - 1 point.

Ael - 1 point.

Jahar - 1 point.

“What is this……”

“By one person.”

The participants were speechless. Jahar was silent, and Ael was still glaring at Simurtr.

She had known it, but seeing it confirmed in writing made it hit home even more.

‘That bad little brother……’

If she felt she was a match for him, he would get faster.

If she felt she had adapted, he would draw out even stronger mana.

To Simurtr, who had been fighting her with a grin, Ael had said that.

‘It’s a case where it’s rewarding to teach.’

Simurtr grinned as he looked at Ael.

There was a certain satisfaction in scratching the pride of a human who believed in their own talent. It was to let them experience firsthand that the talent they possessed was not so great after all.

‘It’s all an experience that becomes flesh and blood.’

Ael’s sword was still immature. It was because she had chased after her interests rather than her own training.

She was rich in talent but disliked training, a common case that always appears in prestigious families.

‘But I don’t think she has the Mectera constitution.’

Ael’s body was not that of a Mectera. Her flexibility was lacking, and her durability greatly surpassed the Mectera quality.

‘That’s the constitution of a Sword Tower.’

Of course, it was far superior to Simurtr’s.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to use the expression ‘overwhelming.’ Unlike his past life, his body in this life was extremely weak.

“What a mess.”

Medeoban was looking at the just-returned participants with a pathetic expression. Among them was Ael.

He had recognized Ael’s potential. And the fact that she had not trained very hard.

Only Jahar was given a pardon. Because he was the only one who had drawn out Simurtr’s true feelings.

“A complete mess.”

But it was only a pardon.

Medeoban didn’t even look at the direct descendants. The other participants were the same, but the siblings were even more so. Direct descendants. It meant they should not have been defeated.

‘How nasty.’

Soon, Medeoban looked at Simurtr. The reason the scores were a mess, the reason the meaning of the selection ceremony had faded.

It was the complete opposite of his eyes during the first test. They had already grown cold.

The favor and curiosity that had filled them had completely died down during the second test.

‘He is too outstanding.’

He knows he killed a swordsman from the 3rd Sword Order.

He had used that as evidence to gain the right to participate in the selection ceremony. He had reached the realm of sword ki through self-study.

‘I thought that was all.’

But, the carelessness of the swordsman must have played a large part in that process. Aran, who was reporting, and Medeoban, who was listening, had naturally thought so.

His talent is outstanding, but he is young. His limits are clear. He cannot dare to surpass the direct descendants.

‘…That’s what I had thought.’

He was beyond what he had imagined. Medeoban revised his thoughts on Simurtr. He was not a simple genius.

‘They said he does not share blood with Orde.’

Perhaps he was not of an ordinary bloodline.

Simurtr’s biological mother, biological father. Medeoban decided to investigate them someday.

‘I was underestimating him. I thought it was an excessive evaluation.’

He was more outstanding than Aran’s report, than his conjectures.

His mana amount was incomparably lacking compared to the siblings. But his sword, his spacing, his breathing, his mana, his trained mind, unlike the direct descendants who had grown up in a greenhouse…….

Everything else was superior to the siblings. Because of his lack of mana, it stood out even more. The direct descendants, who should have been the stars of the selection ceremony, were making that adopted son shine.

‘A mutation.’

Medeoban thought of Simurtr’s mana.

That white, heavier and more intense than that of Mectera.

If that bloodline were to continue without being cut off, it would no longer be a mutation but would establish itself as a single bloodline.

‘That is not Mectera.’

Right now, that mana is not Mectera’s.

The thousand-year history of Mectera was solely Mectera’s. Though they had many adopted sons, there was no history of any of them ascending to the position of Sword Master.

‘Even the man called a hero was unable to do it.’

The hero of the Doom War, Exa Mectera, had also not been able to overturn that history.

Of course, it was because he had not learned mana during his time as an adopted son, but at least that is how it would remain in history.

The one who had once made the world belittle Mectera’s black, the Sword Master, as a lesser version of the Sword Saint.

That even the Sword Saint Exa did not dare to covet the position of Sword Master.

‘But……’

That level of growth in such an unsuitable environment.

Even now, he has gone further than the direct descendants, and is younger than the siblings.

Medeoban thought of the future.

When he died. And under the weak Orde, the direct descendants began their succession competition.

What would that adopted son have become then?

“The final test will be held on the morrow.”

In the end.

Medeoban extended the selection ceremony.