〈 Chapter 316 〉 Junior and Descendant (2)
*
Apuria is famous for its beautiful landscapes.
That’s because there’s a Mana Spring not too far from the academy. Plants near the Mana Spring are fresh and vividly colored. The overflowing mana acts like the ultimate fertilizer for them.
In spring, various flowers bloom, and in summer, the back mountains of Apuria are dyed a fresh green.
That beautiful scenery is Apuria’s pride and something that Dean Aaron particularly cherishes, as his hobby is climbing the back mountains of Apuria, which he loves.
Rania knows this fact.
So well that she can’t even deal with it…
“Wow.”
Thwack! Rania slapped her forehead.
‘This feels like a mess…’.
Trees that should have soared high into the sky.
Thickets that should boast fresh colors.
Things that should be here, things that were likely here just yesterday, are now absent from this spot. Rania sweated coldly. A corner of the forest has been completely logged, and finding the culprit is not difficult.
“Lac?”
“Yes, Professor Rania.”
“What did you do?”
“I was training.”
“And that?”
Rania pointed to a corner of the forest that had turned into an open area. There, firewood was neatly stacked.
“That’s firewood. In the North, we often cut trees from the back mountains to withstand the raging blizzards…”
With his innocent face explaining, Rania could only let out a long sigh.
“…Next time, don’t chop trees in the forest. If it’s just a few, you could quietly erase the traces, but this is a bit much.”
What should she say to the Dean?
While pondering that, Rania decided not to think too much. As long as they don’t find out, it’s fine, right? The trees will grow back eventually.
“Well, still…”
The forest that had turned into an open field.
Seeing the split trees in one blow, Rania couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Looks like you made quite a bit of progress.”
Rania took out a platinum cup from her pocket.
“Are you going to challenge it?”
She shook the Holy Grail.
That question wasn’t directed only at Lac. The Holy Grail was reacting to both of them at the same time.
Lac, who inherited Grace’s sword.
Belnoa, who made a pact with the Lord of Shadow Dragons.
Both had grown in their own ways, and they nodded almost simultaneously. They both met the qualifications. The Holy Grail opened the path to the trials.
2.
“That won’t last long.”
Cardi’s words echoed in her ears.
I tilted the Holy Grail and narrowed my eyes. Now that the path to the trials was opened, cracks were beginning to form in the Grail. Bigger and longer.
The Holy Grail was cracking.
‘Maybe this is the last time.’
The Holy Grail is a miraculous artifact that offers trials to humans, but Cardi warned that it wouldn’t last long. Especially when used for Lac and Belnoa.
The Sorcerer of Shadow Dragons, Belial.
The First Hero, Ganikalt van Galatrick.
They were far too massive beings to fit within the small vessel that is the Holy Grail. Even now, as the passage opened, the Holy Grail creaked and groaned.
“When Gleria was around, restoring the Holy Grail was easy, but not now. If those two kids pass the trials, the chances of the Holy Grail breaking are high.”
Cardi muttered while glancing at me.
“Do you know what that means?”
Of course not.
‘The possibility of continuing into the future has decreased by one.’
That’s what Cardi implied.
It was a warning to me, yet frankly, it wasn’t all that useful. I originally intended to end everything in this generation anyway.
At first, I was uncertain, but not anymore.
“Lac, Belnoa.”
I called out their names.
Stopping their steps toward the passage, both turned to look at me. I smiled at them.
“Make sure to greet the seniors well.”
People who are seniors to me and to you.
“And come back to show me what you’ve got.”
Long ago, there were those who showed humanity’s potential on this land. Because of them, the present exists. Because of the present, the future exists. Even if they have fallen, the achievements they built do not disappear.
The possibilities they inscribed on this land will not vanish but continue onward.
“Show you what…?”
“Possibility.”
What I saw for you.
“Show it so magnificently that it makes me think, ‘This brat might actually make it.’”
Even if it’s merely a reproduced illusion.
I hope they face the possibilities and feel relieved. Even if it’s meaningless.
“And tell them your master taught you well.”
Make sure to brag about me a bit, okay?
Muttering that, I waved my hand. Belnoa and Lac blinked, then smiled, throwing themselves beyond the passage.
*
As soon as he opened his eyes, Belnoa was greeted by a vast desert. The endless desert was filled with dry winds.
Wooosh!
Dry winds.
When he came here last time, Belnoa felt nothing special about this wind. He simply thought it was just the wind blowing through the desert. But not anymore.
‘…The wind of the dragon.’
Where there are dragons, there is always wind.
Long ago, humans who lived in an age older than antiquity likened dragons to the wind. Wherever dragons dwell, the winds always sweep.
It is neither as warm as a spring breeze nor as harsh as a winter gale. Just a dry wind. That is the wind that symbolizes dragons.
The meaning of the wind blowing now is singular.
It signifies that a dragon lives in this vast desert. There is no need to ask who that dragon is. Belnoa slowly lifted his head.
Crunch.
The sound of sand being stepped on.
The sound grows closer. Belnoa also walks towards the source of the sound. How long did he walk? Belnoa stopped. The sound of the sand being stepped on was no longer heard.
Belnoa saw the sorcerer standing before him.
“We meet again, boy.”
The Sorcerer of Shadow Dragons, Belial.
And.
The black storm, Belial the Black Dragon.
Now, standing before the once distant senior whose identity has been revealed, Belnoa bowed his head. He had heard stories about Belial from the deity he served.
“It’s an honor to meet the great hero.”
At Belnoa’s greeting, Belial chuckled.
“Did you hear from the Lord of Shadow Dragons?”
Belnoa nodded.
“I see. It seems you’ve received your calling. You made a pact, and it appears the lord holds you in quite some regard.”
“Yes, somehow it turned out that way…”
“That’s good. A very fortunate thing.”
Hahaha!
He let out a hearty laugh, clapping a rough hand on Belnoa’s shoulder. Belnoa gritted his teeth and endured the violent impact that felt like it would shatter his shoulder.
“You’ve grown, boy.”
Thud! He lightly tapped as the end.
Belial stepped back a pace, crossing his arms and opening his mouth.
“Have you prepared for a complete trial?”
Crossing his arms, with a tap, he poked his forearm with his finger. That alone finished the offering. The rising shadows wrapped around Belial’s forearm.
“Are you ready?”
Belnoa didn’t respond.
He merely swung his arm through the air. Shadows wrapped around Belnoa’s arm. The swirling shadows solidified. The shadows transformed into a shape resembling dragon scales, covering Belnoa’s fingers.
Though it’s still just the beginning, it is a clear sign of growth. Belial is joyfully laughing at the junior’s progress.
“Show your worth, boy.”
Prove your worth.
Show that you have the qualification to move on to the next stage.
“Show it to me.”
3.
The Sacred Site of the Sword, Galatrick.
A canyon created by a single swordsman, once a learning ground that produced many sword masters. It is a place fitting the name Sacred Site of the Sword, where a swordsman waits for someone.
Lac set his gaze ahead.
There stood a single swordsman.
Sticking a sword into the ground, he stands there with dignity, unchanged from the last time he was seen.
“You’ve come.”
He looked at Lac.
“Lac von Grace.”
He remembers Lac’s name.
Lac slowly bowed his head to the great figure before him. It was a sign of respect towards his ancestor’s mentor, the one who made the current North possible.
“I’ve heard stories from my ancestor.”
Lac raised his head.
Drawing the axe from his waist, Lac held it against his chest and continued.
“I learned how great you are, and how much everyone living on this land owes you.”
The hero who saved this land in ancient times.
Every being on this land owes a debt to those four heroes. It is a debt that cannot be repaid, as they have all fallen.
“But Grace said.”
Lac slowly withdrew the axe from his chest.
“You would prefer this over a hundred words of thanks and praise…”
Heat!
“You’d prefer this!”
Boom! His heart raced violently.
Lac’s gaze surged intensely red. With a posture ready to pounce, Ganikalt burst into laughter.
“Indeed.”
He extended his arms forward.
“Looks like Grace taught you well.”
His hand grasped the hilt of the great sword embedded in the ground. Just that act suffocated the air around them. An oppressive pressure swept over.
While last time it was barely managing to withstand this, it was different now. Ignoring the pressure, Lac took a step forward.
Thud! Lac stomped his foot down.
The great swordsman before him stood with an expression that seemed to say he would yield the first move. Lac contemplated what to showcase in his first strike. The thought didn’t take long. He simply needed to show what he was most confident in.
Galatrick Style, First Form?
Lac flung his arm back behind him.
The axe in his hand trembled lightly, whoosh! The image of the vibrating axe flickered and merged repeatedly. The moment it fully combined, Lac clenched his teeth and swung the axe.
First Form, First Strike Smash!
… Originally, the first strike of the Galatrick style, known as First Sight Slash, is a swift cut struck at a speed almost impossible to follow with the eye. The blade moves so swiftly that by the time the opponent perceives it, their head is already separated from their body.
Therefore, it’s called First Sight Slash, yet… this technique wasn’t suited for Grace.
‘Anyhow, if it kills with the first strike, isn’t it First Sight Slash? Plus, if it’s hard to track for the eyes, I’ve satisfied the conditions of First Sight Slash.’
A phrase heard at the Sacred Site echoed in Lac’s ears.
Surely, that was a correct interpretation.
No matter how the process goes, as long as the result is the same, isn’t it sufficient?
Swoosh!
Lac’s axe traced a path, tearing through the air. The rending air lacked form. Something different from a blade tore through the surroundings.
As that trajectory sought to engulf Ganikalt…
Clang!
Ganikalt lightly waved his hand, deflecting Lac’s strike. Although he hadn’t expected it to land, he didn’t think it would be so effortlessly blocked. He thought it was a decent technique he’d perfected.
Lac’s thoughts weren’t incorrect.
Objectively speaking, the technique Lac executed was highly refined. He had properly understood the technique, and his posture while swinging the axe had no flaws. There was a slight error, but it was close to perfection.
It wasn’t perfect, but undoubtedly worthy enough for even superhumans to commend.
Yet in Ganikalt van Galatrick’s eyes, it was far from that.
Having reached a realm no one else could touch with a single sword, the swordsman was the most meticulous when it came to swords. In Ganikalt’s eyes, the technique Lac displayed was not close to perfection, but rather a score barely passing.
“That’s not how you swing a sword.”
He lifted his sword.
To the descendant of the far future who displayed a technique akin to his own, Ganikalt aimed to show the original.
He meant for it to offer grand enlightenment merely by watching.
“Watch closely.”
This is what true First Sight Slash looks like.
… No one pointed out that what Lac held wasn’t a sword, but an axe.
*
