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“Come at me, more!”

“You despicable bastards! Do you think this sacred Festival of Swords is a place for plunder?”

“Noisy! Hey, you look good with that polearm!”

People rushed towards each other. Those who were a little smarter or weaker fought with their backs to the wall, while those who were stronger or dumber, boldly charged into the open, swinging their swords and spears. Shouts, screams, and the clang of metal echoed throughout the arena. Colorful blades cut through the air, leaving trails of vivid hues. Occasionally, splatters of blood cooled the heated atmosphere.

‘Maybe because it’s the first test, but most of them are fighting half-heartedly.’

Severed wrists dropped to the ground. It was unclear whether the mistake was aiming for the weapon or intentionally targeting the wrist. Ronan watched them intently, chin resting on his hand.

There were no participants rushing at him, perhaps due to his reputation of having defeated the Winter Witch. Despite casualties occurring everywhere, Ronan, unlike Shullifen, did not feel a sense of duty to rescue anyone.

‘They came here willingly, so why’d I help? It’s better for me if the numbers decrease.’

The remaining individuals were driven by desires, putting them above their own lives. There was no hierarchy; it was all about pursuing desires, whether it be fighting for someone else’s weapon or striving to become the owner of the Holy Sword.

In fact, the woman who tried to plunge her dagger into the young man’s back was not wrong. It would be challenging without a strong determination to wield a weapon. Suddenly, a question crossed Ronan’s mind. He said, looking down at the girl.

“By the way, aren’t you running away?”

“Why would I run away?”

“What if I break your sword? Looks like that’s the only one you’ve got.”

“That won’t happen. I can easily tell that much at a glance. You’re a good guy.”

“Heh.”

Ronan let out a wry smile. It seemed quite ridiculous. Even though it was embarrassing, he felt like he had to show this little pervert an example. As he was about to put his hand on the hilt of his sword, a loud voice echoed nearby.

“Kahaha! Miss, come here!”

“What?”

Both of them turned their heads. The Skull Collector or something like that was rushing towards the girl with fierce determination, wielding two axes that emitted a sinister gleam.

‘He’s pretty good.’

Ronan raised his brows. Judging from his level of aura, he seemed like quite a capable fighter. The well-ground axes were drenched in blood, as if they had already killed several people. The girl made eye contact with him and twisted her mouth in disgust.

“Ew. You’re still ugly.”

“Show some respect, miss. Come and talk to me.”

“Are you crazy? Are you one of those types who believes that if you’re good on the inside, it’s okay to be ugly on the outside?”

“It depends on the situation.”

Ronan shook his head. Despite the narrowing distance between them, the girl didn’t show a hint of tension. Instead, she seemed to be wasting precious time discussing the man’s unattractive appearance through a superficial, appearance-oriented argument, rather than preparing to flee or fight.

“Of course, inner beauty matters. If you want to serve a lady like me, of course you have to have a kind heart. However, the first impression is always about the face, no matter what anyone says. It’s even better if they have long legs and firm buttocks like you and your friend…”

“For the first time in a while, I’ll have to wet my axe with young blood!”

“Agh! It’s noisy.”

The skeleton hunter roared again. The girl, with a disgusted expression, reached behind her. She grabbed the hilt of her sword, protruding through her hair, pulling it out with a metallic rumble, revealing a long sword. Ronan’s eyes widened at the completely unexpected sight.

“That’s…!”

“It’s pretty useful.”

The girl swung her sword around, to see if it was fine, and smiled triumphantly. Ronan, who was dumbfounded, spoke in a trembling voice.

“…Isn’t that too old?”

It was definitely a good looking sword. About five hundred years ago.

The condition of the longsword was truly miserable. Not only was the weather out sparse, it was rusty, like autumn leaves. Did she pick it up from a dumpster somewhere? The girl, seeing Ronan’s expression, firmly shook her head.

“You don’t know anything. What matters is the one wielding it, not the sword.”

“I do like that saying, though.”

“Enough. Watch carefully.”

With those words, the girl rushed forward. Ronan’s eyes widened. Her movements were so graceful that it was almost unbelievable for a human. The face of the Skull Collector contorted in bewilderment.

“What the…?!”

Indeed, the Skull Collector was skilled. Just being able to visually detect the girl’s movements gave him the qualification to make such a statement. Suddenly, Ronan recalled the fact that she was the only one in the crowd who had noticed his Swift Sword technique.

‘Was she really that skilled?’

Thud! In an instant, the girl, who had reached right in front of the Skull Collector, leaped back into place. It was like a rabbit leaping through the air, carried by the wind. The startled Skull Collector hastily crossed his axes, assuming a defensive stance.

“Waaah! Get away!”

“Goodbye.”

The girl’s body spun in mid-air, her abundant white hair swirling around her. The sword, rotating around her axis, was so flawless that it could rival the skills of the Savior. Unconsciously, Ronan found himself cheering, his fist clenched in excitement.

Yes, the truth was, that sword might just look shabby, but it could be an extraordinary masterpiece! The sword, gracefully slicing through the air, approached the axe at the perfect moment. Clang! The girl’s longsword shattered into pieces as if it were a fragile glass.

“Oh.”

“Huh… what?”

Thud. Hundreds of shattered pieces of the swords scattered on the ground. The girl landed right after. She stared blankly at the hilt of her sword held in her hand. The enraged Skull Collector belatedly regained his composure and swung his axe fiercely.

“Is this damn brat playing around? Die!”

“Ah.”

The axe descended vertically. The girl, belatedly turning her body, but the blade of the axe had already reached the top of her head. Just as she closed her eyes in resignation. Swoosh! The man’s head was separated from his body from the neck.

“…Ah?”

The Skull Collector’s mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. Ronan, who had leaped forward during the moment of crisis, kicked him to the side.Thud! The headless body bounced around violently.

His severed head formed a graceful arc as it fell into the boiling cauldron. Plop! The head, submerged in bubbling molten metal, did not resurface. Ronan, who landed smoothly, looked down at the girl and spoke.

“Fuck, what was all that about the one wielding it?”

“I believed in your kindness.”

The girl casually brushed her hair aside. There was no sign of fear or remorse in her demeanor. Ronan sighed as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Heh, this is really getting out of hand. Now, what are you going to do without a weapon?”

“Kraaaaah! Die!”

Ronan was about to say something when suddenly participants from all directions rushed towards him, shouting in unison. Perplexed, Ronan pulled the girl towards him.

“What the fuck, what happened all of a sudden?”

“Can’t breathe.”

The girl, with her neck pinched by the collar, struggled to breathe. Something was off. Even those who were fighting each other just moments ago turned away and charged towards them. The eyes of the participants who rushed toward the two with their weapons raised were all drifting.

‘This seems intentional.’

Ronan’s eyes glowed fiercely. No matter how much mental energy the chaotic battlefield had consumed, the fact that skilled fighters suddenly acted this way was suspicious.

‘This…’

Soon, Ronan noticed a suspicious current of mana moving around the arena. The reddish current was weaving through the participants like a stream.

It was not a type of mana found in nature. A man who had been cowering in a corner suddenly ingested the strange mana. Exactly three seconds later.

“Kraaaaagh!”

The man, now standing, charged towards Ronan. His eyes, like the others, lacked focus. Ronan, who had finally come to a conclusion, grabbed the hilt of his sword.

‘Aura. Or is it the effect of the weapon? But why me?’

It being the ability of one of the participants was clearly evident. The fact that he was being targeted was also apparent. However, in the chaotic arena, it was impossible to pinpoint the caster. Ronan scratched his head, and sighed.

“Ah, damn it.”

In this situation, fighting was the only option. Meanwhile, the strange mana continued to increase the number of frenzied participants. The girl tilted her head back and asked Ronan.,

“So many. Can you do something like your friends?”

“No.”

“Then what are you going to do? Kill them all?”

Rather than answering, Ronan lowered his stance. It was a posture he took when using a slightly more significant technique. On the positive side, it was fortunate that he had the opportunity to test the technique he wanted to try in such a situation.

‘But I’m not sure if this will work.’

However, even for Ronan, it was a difficult technique. A slight mistake could result in about twenty participants either getting killed or turning into idiots. Although Ronan didn’t know it, the purpose of refining the precision of the technique through actual combat was to make it work in one go. The frenzied participants had approached within ten paces. Ronan muttered as he looked at them,

“All of you are eliminated. You idiots.”

Ronan concentrated. The mana manifested from the core dyed Lamancha a deep red. The girl and the surrounding participants frowned at the vivid crimson light, almost stinging their eyes. Just as the participant running at the forefront approached within five paces,

‘Now.’

Ronan’s arm disappeared from sight. A red crescent moon was drawn across the entire arena. The manifested sword energy scattered like a storm. It was the ability of Lamancha to liquefy sword energy.

However, there was a subtle difference from what Ronan usually used. The sword energy was only flying towards the weapons they were carrying. Exactly twenty-four crimson droplets passed through the crowd as if narrowly brushing past them. Shullifen, who was watching him in front of the cauldron, laughed.

“Have you gotten that far?”

The nonchalant remark didn’t even bother pointing fingers at the participants. As Lamancha, drawn with a crescent moon, returned to its place, the sword energy and flying sparks collided roughly. Boom! Thud! Small explosions occurred in succession, and metal fragments scattered in all directions. The sight of steel flowers blooming elicited admiration from the judges. The girl, who was still quietly clinging to Ronan, covered her mouth with one hand.

“Wow.”

At the same time, blood-curdling screams erupted from everywhere. The reason was the shards of metal getting lodged in the participants’ bodies.

“Ahhhh! Ahhh!”

“My face! My face!”

Seeing their dramatic reactions, it seemed that the madness that had been ingrained in their bodies had disappeared. Indeed, shock therapy was the only effective way to bring them back to their senses. Almost simultaneously, participants collapsed, writhing on the ground. Ronan, confirming the success of the technique, chuckled.

“Now then…”

But his eyes soon narrowed. The one who had done such a thing needed to be found and taught a lesson. The moment Ronan took a step to start searching, the sound of trumpets echoed once again from the spectator stands surrounding the arena. The announcer who had announced the rules jumped into the arena and shouted,

“Everyone, stop! There are only ten weapons remaining now. We will conclude the first test!”

“What?”

Ronan came to a halt in his tracks. Only now did the battlefield, reminiscent of a war zone, come into his eyes. There were only seven people, including him, standing on two legs.