novelraw Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Feyr followed Gram onto the cargo wagon.
The slaves were divided across two cargo wagons, ten to each. From the outside, they would look like nothing more than ordinary cargo wagons.
The faces of the slaves, who did not know their destination, were without exception shadowed with gloom.
All except for one.
‘For now, I've just quietly gone along with things.’
'So what do I do from here?'
Feyr sat with arms folded, lost in thought. Unlike the other slaves, who hung their heads in dejection, Feyr's face looked almost serene.
'Even if I tried to escape, I'd be caught in no time.'
Building up power right away was even more out of the question.
‘In that case, the inside of the family might actually be the safer option.’
Beilhart. What a wretched name.
Feyr wanted to leave that very instant, but judged that entering the family was the wiser choice over being chased down for nothing.
If he fled in his current physical state, he might end up dying a meaningless death.
And so, he would enter the family once more and be raised as an assassin. Though, of course, he had no intention of repeating the same life as his past one.
Just feigning obedience. Going through the motions.
Once enough strength returned, it would not matter if he made his move then.
'All I'd need to do is fake my death on a mission and slip away.'
The training process itself posed no particular problem. It was a road he had already walked once before. The second time around could only be easier, never harder.
'All the more so since I remember every bit of it.'
How could he forget?
Those days that were like hell.
The days he had been forced to scrape by, not even treated as a human being.
The moment rage had boiled up from within.
Clunk.
The cargo wagon stopped. After a full day of traveling, they had finally arrived at Beilhart's domain.
Feyr suppressed his emotions and fixed his attention on the voice that followed.
"Get down. We're here."
Those were the words uttered by Beilhart's errand runner.
The slaves moved compliantly.
Of course they did.
Before they had boarded the wagons, one slave who had talked back to the errand runner had his arm broken on the spot. Having witnessed that, none of the slaves could even entertain the thought of defying him.
‘They've all had their spirit crushed.’
Well, understandable.
Feyr gave a slight nod. His past self had been no different.
The errand runner confirmed the headcount, then set off ahead.
"Follow me."
The slaves quietly trailed behind.
Before long, they arrived at a training ground with a wide dirt floor.
‘This place hasn't changed.’
The Lunar Eclipse Training Ground.
Of the seven training grounds belonging to House Beilhart, it was the most inferior.
In truth, calling it a training ground was merely a formality. Known as a disposal camp for consumables, this place was nothing short of hell itself.
Absurd training intensity. Brutal and savage instructors. A place where even the food supply was never properly maintained—that was the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground.
To think I'd end up at this wretched place again.
Feyr let out a sigh and looked around.
Hundreds of people came into view.
Every single one of them slaves or orphans.
Feyr kept scanning the crowd, as if searching for someone.
And then.
'Found them.'
Ashen hair. Those unmistakable dark crimson eyes.
And above all else—a demeanor utterly free of any trace of tension.
'The one who knocked me down to second place in an exam that should have been mine to top.'
Kail Beilhart.
The family's direct bloodline—and the youngest child of the head.
His innate disposition was so utterly consumed by a craving for combat that he had been called the 'Mad Dog' in Feyr's past life.
But why would someone of a different bloodline altogether be at the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground?
The reason was simple.
'The Family Proof.'
When Beilhart's direct heirs turned thirteen, there was a tradition called 'The Family Proof'—the completion of their first kill.
It existed to excise any aversion or hesitation toward killing.
For him, the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground was not a place for training, but a place for practicing murder.
Truly, a deranged lot.
Recalling the Proof Ceremony, Feyr clicked his tongue.
Just then.
"Attention!"
A thunderous shout rang through the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground. Every gaze turned toward the source of the sound.
At the center of the platform stood a man with a bear-like build, flanked by instructors on either side.
The man in the center bore the Ashen hair and dark crimson eyes characteristic of Beilhart—though in his case, the hair was a shade deeper, tinged closer to black.
A taciturn air.
A face riddled with scars.
A powerful presence radiating from every inch of his body.
The head instructor of the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground, a member of Beilhart's collateral line—and a man who would ascend to the realm of Sword Master in the near future.
It was Zak Beilhart.
"Greetings, vermin. I am Zak Beilhart, head instructor of the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground."
The moment Zak finished speaking, the instructors standing beside him broke into unanimous applause.
The slaves, who had been standing still, glanced about and soon followed the instructors' lead.
Zak raised a hand, and the applause ceased as one.
"For the next three years, all of you will be reborn here at the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground as assassins of Beilhart. Understood?"
"Beilhart? Assassins?"
The unexpected revelation set the slaves murmuring.
Assassins in name only—in reality, they were nothing but cards to be used and discarded. Raising orphans and slaves as assassins was hardly anything new.
Still, who among those here could have anticipated being groomed as one? Every face wore an expression of bewilderment.
"What do you mean by that……?"
One slave raised a hand to ask.
Being suddenly abducted and told they would be raised as assassins.
Perhaps it was only natural to feel unable to grasp the reality of it.
But Zak was not the generous sort who would accommodate such feelings.
"Questions are not permitted. Furthermore——"
Zak stepped down from the platform and stood before the slave who had spoken. And then—
"Asking without permission is forbidden as well."
Zak seized the slave by the head and drove it into the ground.
Thud!
A dull crash filled the training ground.
The slave, face smashed into the dirt, twitched like a trampled insect, then went still.
A clear demonstration of what awaited them.
Feyr, who had already known this would happen, quietly clicked his tongue.
With the life of a completely useless slave, he was establishing discipline.
The slaves who had been murmuring all went pale and froze where they stood.
Zak, as though it were nothing, irritably shook the blood from his hand and muttered.
"Tsk, filthy……"
Then he slowly ascended back to the platform and opened his mouth.
"From this point on, none of you are slaves. But that does not make you ordinary humans, either."
Zak shouted with a fierce expression.
"From now on, you will be addressed as trainees. However, your true nature is garbage. Inferior garbage that knows how to do nothing!"
At the string of insults, the trainees hung their heads. Some among them were gnawing at their lips.
"If even worthless lives like yours wish to keep breathing, find some way to prove your worth. Understood!"
"Yes, sir!"
The moment Zak finished speaking, every trainee answered in unison. They had responded on pure instinct.
"Good. Then, before any other procedures, I intend to take a look at your level."
Feyr remembered perfectly well what would be said next.
He could never forget it.
Because this was the very moment in his past life when he had first used violence against another person.
Zak shouted.
"Starting now—beat each other senseless. Bladed weapons are forbidden, but anything else, whatever you may use, is permitted."
Zak swept his gaze across the crowd and continued.
"Ah, there is one thing I forgot to mention. I intend to keep exactly one hundred of you alive."
Which meant—out of several hundred, become one of the hundred.
Most of the trainees were left dumbfounded by those words.
Fight all of a sudden? And while reducing their numbers, at that.
Unable to make sense of it, one trainee went pale and cried out.
"I—I refuse!"
Beginning with that one, other trainees started exchanging glances and speaking up.
"M-me too, I won't do it!"
"How can you suddenly tell us to fight, what is this!"
"I can't! I absolutely cannot!"
Zak closed his eyes as though he had expected this.
And the instant he snapped them open—
The heads of the rebellious trainees flew off simultaneously.
In an instant, the dirt floor of the training ground was soaked in blood.
Then Zak kicked off the ground.
Bang!
At the explosive sound, the trainees came to their senses. That this was reality. Screaming to survive, they began frantically attacking one another.
The slaves, who had never properly fought before, were clumsy even in their punching.
Nothing more than a brawl in the mud.
And within that chaos, Feyr kept his gaze fixed on a single person.
Kail Beilhart.
He was looking around with a bored expression, as though watching a spectacle.
Feyr started to move towards him.
***
Kail shook his head at the sight of the training ground turning into pandemonium in an instant.
'They call this fighting?'
The level was low.
Devastatingly, absurdly low.
Out of every fight he had ever witnessed in his life, this was the most wretched and pathetic.
Kail whose expression twisted in displeasure, began dropping the trainees who came rushing at him with a single blow.
Trainees who couldn't even dodge a single punch, taking a clean hit to a vital point and gasping for air.
'What kind of fighting is this supposed to be……'
He had heard the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground was the most grueling place of all.
That was why he had set foot here—but what actually greeted his eyes were nothing but crude, clumsy movements.
Even the young children of the family would not put on a fight so poor. His irritation began to surge.
'I should just wrap up this Proof quickly.'
Kail stomped on the head of a trainee crawling on the ground and began to slowly apply pressure with his foot. Intending to crush the skull entirely.
But in that moment, Kail was forced to spin around.
A presence rushing at him from behind.
Just what kind of fool would dare.
He'd crush them in a single move.
Kail turned his head with a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth—
"Ugh?!"
Whack!
A fist drove into his jaw in an instant. It was a completely unexpected rhythm for Kail.
'What?'
Kail, knocked back, immediately pulled himself upright.
Biting down hard, he sized up his opponent.
'Black hair?'
Some trainee was glaring at him.
***
After driving his fist in, Feyr stood still for a moment and watched Kail. The moment the enraged Kail opened his mouth, he launched another flurry of punches.
"You little—……wait a——!"
Thwack!
Zak, who had been watching Kail from the start, narrowed his eyes at the sight.
'Sharp instincts on this one.'
At Kail's level, he should be able to flatten any number of slaves, no matter how poor a showing. There was no way the youngest son of the family head could fall short of that.
Naturally, he had expected this intake to open with a one-sided slaughter by Kail. Yet, as it were, he was the one being beaten.
'Now that’s something you don't see every day.'
Right after, Feyr continued pouring in punches, as though refusing to give him a single moment to pull himself together.
Punches aimed precisely at the jaw, tracing an exact path.
Fierce and relentless—yet they failed to deal the fatal damage to Kail he had hoped for.
Kail, who had been bathed in all manner of spirit medicines since childhood, had long since transcended the bounds of his peers.
Before long, Kail adapted to Feyr's attacks and caught an incoming fist with ease.
"Think you can bring me down with those cotton-soft punches?!"
Feyr, with his arm seized, did not press the next attack.
Kail seized the opening and lunged at Feyr.
Or rather, tried to lunge.
"Uggh——!"
A kick that suddenly buried itself into his solar plexus sent Kail collapsing on the spot.
Kail, gasping desperately as though all the air had left him.
Unable to mount any resistance, reduced to crawling on the ground—Feyr's foot came down and stomped on Kail's head.
"Ugh……you little——!"
Kail grabbed the leg of the Feyr who had just stomped on his head, and then began channeling Mana into both hands with full concentration.
'——!'
At that sight, Zak's eyes went wide.
To wield Mana with such refinement at only thirteen years of age. He was, after all, the family's direct bloodline.
However.
Pak!
Without a trace of alarm, Feyr immediately kicked Kail in the head with his other foot.
Under that impact, Kail's grip slackened for an instant. He had lost control of his Mana.
Feyr did not let the moment pass, and stomped down on Kail's hand. And then—
Crack.
"Aaaargh!"
Feyr had stomped down and broken Kail's right arm. The blinding, mind-shattering agony sent Kail screaming.
Those who always lord over others are far removed from pain. Kail was no exception.
Kail shrieked, overcome with fury, at the excruciating pain he was experiencing for the very first time.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Feyr exhaled a low sigh.
"Quiet. Go to sleep."
Smack!
And with that, Feyr kicked Kail in the temple and knocked him unconscious.
At the same moment, the training ground fell silent in an instant.
Of the several hundred trainees, roughly one hundred remained conscious. Every one of them had sunk to the ground, completely spent.
The only one still standing was Feyr alone.
Feyr, the last one left standing, stared wordlessly up at Zak on the platform.
'This time, I refuse to become the family's plaything.'
It was a declaration of will—directed at Zak, and beyond him, at all of Beilhart.