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“Ugh… My arm…”

“Fuck you, you all deserve divine punishment! Throwing my family’s treasured sword into molten metal…”

“Ahh! It hurts! Save me!”

Suddenly, the gates opened, and the committee members entered. They moved around the chaotic arena, assisting the casualties or carrying them on stretchers.

Only seven individuals, including Ronan, were standing on both legs. The guide who had jumped into the arena walked forward with great strides.

“Thank you all for your hard work. We need to confirm the successful candidates, so please take out all the weapons you have.”

The guide began checking for weapons, moving around the arena. A satisfied smile appeared on the guide’s face as they confirmed the intact state of Shullifen’s sword.

“I witnessed your efforts to protect the surrendering opponents. While status and position lose their significance in Parzan, one cannot help but show respect for your nobility.”

“It was just the right thing to do.”

“You have passed. Rising Star of the Empire.”

After a polite bow, the guide turned and walked away. Ronan suddenly noticed that one of the men standing was trembling violently.

“…Shit!”

Hurriedly, he bent down to pick up a broadsword with a broken end that lay at his feet. Just as the man was about to grab the hilt. Thud! A catapult shot from the spectator stands hit right in front of the man’s toe.

“Ugh!”

“I told you not to move.”

The man gasped, clutching his buttocks. If he had moved a little more, his legs would have been paralyzed. The guide spoke in a stern voice.

“Anyway, picking it up now would be useless. The ten weapons have already been determined. Only the ones emitting light are recognized as intact weapons.”

“…Damn it.”

“The rest are considered damaged and won’t be included in the assessment. We’ll take care of the cleanup, so just leave them as they are.”

The man, wiping his face with his palm, spat out a curse. It seemed that despite managing to survive until the end, he failed to retrieve a weapon. The examiner who rushed over promptly picked up the broadsword the man had tried to grab. Ronan raised an eyebrow in response.

“Light?”

He took out Lamancha and Ymi, examining them briefly. Indeed, a subtle blue glow, not visible under normal circumstances, flowed through the two blades. It seemed to be part of the identification spell.

“Ugh, useless!”

At that moment, another participant threw a mace they were holding. The iron club, with its dented iron head, was not emitting any light. Unfortunate disqualification. Now, only five participants remained.

‘Someone among those two must have caused the chaos.’

Excluding the girl and Shullifen, there were only two suspects left. Among them, one of them was the bastard who had made the participant go crazy and attack Ronan. One was a woman in full armor and the other was an old man holding a long spear. Judging from the aura they were giving off, it seemed like both of them had gone through their fair share of battles.

‘Strange. There should be at least some trace of their intentions.’

However, something was off. Ronan squinted his eyes while observing the two. From them, he felt no mana that could drive the participants into madness. There was not even a confusing aura. It was as if ghosts were playing a tune. Then the guide who had examined weapons in front of Ronan spoke.

“Participant number 44.”

“Ah, here.”

Ronan pulled out the glowing Lamancha and Ymi and presented them. Both weapons maintained a perfect condition without a single scratch. The guide, wearing a satisfied smile, nodded approvingly.

“I have a family in the Empire, so I’m aware of your reputation. I’ve heard about your remarkable swordsmanship, but I didn’t expect it to be this impressive.”

“It was nothing special.”

“You didn’t need to be modest. Your skill was exceptional. Especially that last move, breaking twenty-four weapons without hurting anyone, that was the most outstanding technique I’ve ever seen in the 10 years I’ve been working at Parzan…. How did you manage that?”

It was the story of Ronan’s spray of sword energy. It was his first success, so he had nothing to say. Ronan responded with a shrug, a somewhat awkward answer. The guide, who was thrilled as if he were seeing the sea for the first time in his life, patted him on the shoulder.

“I hope you achieve what you want at the top of Parzan. You have passed.”

“Thank you.”

“May the Holy Sword bless you. Well then, next…”

The guide, who gave Ronan a passing grade, looked down. The white-haired girl was still clinging to Ronan’s side.

“Ah.”

Suddenly, a scene played in Ronan’s mind. The moment when the girl’s longsword collided with the axe, and the sword shattered into pieces. Yes, this kid had no weapon. Desperately trying to get her down, Ronan was about to say something.

“Hey, you…”

“Participant number 72. Possession of weapon confirmed. You have passed.”

The guide acknowledged the girl’s success and moved away. The girl expressed her trouble by waving her hand slightly. Ronan’s forehead narrowed suddenly.

“…Huh?”

It was an unimaginable situation. The fossilized longsword, shattered into pieces as it collided with the axe, still echoed in his ears. That longsword should have been so thoroughly destroyed that even Dolon’s grandfather wouldn’t be able to repair it.

‘Am I suffering from dementia?’

Ronan, in the midst of worrying about his own mental state, noticed the girl fidgeting with something. In her fern-like hands, he recognized a dagger that seemed familiar, adorned with gemstones, more suitable for display than combat.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that?”

Ronan lightly grabbed the girl’s head. She was playfully twirling the dagger, and her response was nonchalant.

“I found it.”

“Yeah, but where?”

“Inside your pocket.”

The girl replied shamelessly. There was not a hint of guilt in her calm voice. Ronan, intrigued, reached into his pocket. Indeed, the dagger that should have been there was now missing. The girl explained,

“Please understand. I wanted to climb higher.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got interested in this stupid event. I’ve always stopped halfway, but this time, I wanted to reach the summit. Well, not the event, but I think it’s more accurate to say I got interested in you and your friends…”

Suddenly, the girl leaned her head on Ronan’s shoulder. Though he couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying, Ronan didn’t press her for more information. After all, he had picked up the dagger as a supplementary item, and inwardly, he hoped the girl would pass.

‘If she has the right weapons, she could be quite strong.’

Ronan remembered the girl’s fighting style. Although he couldn’t thoroughly confirm due to the wind caused by the shattering blades, her movements and stance were remarkable, placing her among the best he had seen among the contestants. At that time, the guide who was checking the weapons raised his hand and shouted.

“Is anyone still carrying additional weapons?”

“What’s happening all of a sudden?”

Ronan tilted his head. The bewildered tone suggested that something unexpected had occurred. The committee members were busily searching for something.

“Weird. I can’t seem to find one. Why only nine?”

The guide explained that one weapon was missing, and, curious, they searched even inside cauldrons, but only molten iron was found. At that moment, a gruff voice from a corner of the arena drew everyone’s attention.

“Here… it is.”

“What?”

“I can’t move… Could someone…?”

People turned their heads simultaneously. The voice came from a pile of yet-to-be-attended casualties. Soon, a middle-aged man wearing a hood revealed himself. The committee members’ eyes widened as they approached.

“Oh my god, have you been here this whole time?”

“Haha… thank you. I couldn’t move my body.”

The hooded man shuffled. His condition did not look very good as his entire body was covered in blood and wounds. He seemed to be completely exhausted and was lying still, staring at the sky. The guide approached him with long strides and stood in front of him.

“Participant number 3. Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, you can withdraw.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better if I rest a bit.”

“Thank goodness. Do you happen to have any intact weapons with you?”

“Yeah, an intact weapon? Ah, right… I have one.”

Abruptly, the man reached under his waist. When he withdrew his hand, a short, exotic-looking sword was clutched in his grasp. A blue glow, guaranteeing its integrity, enveloped the blade.

“…Confirmed. You have passed.”

“Haha, thanks. Now, can someone move me? I can move my arms somewhat, but I can’t get up.”

The man chuckled self-deprecatingly. The committee members carried him away with the other casualties. As he was being escorted, the man, whose eyes met Ronan’s, laughed mysteriously.

As he was being carried away, in the midst of it, the man whose gaze met with Ronan chuckled. Laughing after such a defeat. Ronan, impressed by the positive aspect, was about to offer a handshake or something when—

“You…”

“Hmm? What’s the matter?”

Ronan’s eyes widened. The familiar mana appeared, slowly emanating from the man’s chest. It was the eerie aura that turned participants into madmen. The one who had been silently laughing suddenly spoke.

“It seems you have something to say, but my condition isn’t great right now… See you later, young friend.”

With those words, the man lost consciousness. As his bloodied hand dangled below, the mana that had been emanating from his chest vanished. The examiners escorting the man urged their steps. Watching their backs, Ronan muttered in disbelief.

“What the hell is up with that bastard…?”

****

The second test was scheduled for the evening two days later. Until then, participants could rest or freely train.

Those who passed the first test moved to a checkpoint on the mountain. Passing each test brought them closer to the summit and the sacred place. Fortunately, the road to the first checkpoint was well-paved, allowing them to ascend easily despite their tired bodies.

The altitude made the air chilly, and wispy clouds lazily drifted across the sky as the sun began to set. The guide leading them turned to address the successful candidates.

“Only six of you passed. It’s been a while since I’ve seen so few survive. You must have fought fiercely.”

As he spoke, a white frost rose with each breath. Following closely behind, Ronan muttered with a puzzled expression.

“Well, yeah. Are we the group with the lowest pass rate?”

“Hmm… not necessarily. I heard there’s an even smaller group that passed in Aran Parzan, across the mountains.”

“Smaller than six? How many are in that group?”

“Just one. Passed alone.”