novelraw Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Zak Beilhart, head instructor of the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground, stared at Feyr.
'Just what is this guy?'
He had expected the boy to get knocked straight down the moment he suddenly charged at Kail. Wasn't he nothing more than an ordinary slave? And yet…
The one who'd taken a completely one-sided beating was Kail.
The other instructors, equally at a loss to make sense of the situation, were all murmuring among themselves.
"Is this for real?"
"Young master Kail was beaten down?"
"By a mere slave?"
Zak glared at the instructors.
"Settle down."
"Yes, sir."
The instructors fell silent.
Zak was just as bewildered, but a member of Beilhart could not afford to waver at the sight of a direct heir's shortcoming. He had no choice but to keep up appearances and maintain his composure.
Feyr had achieved an overwhelming victory, ambush or not.
'And in the middle of it all, he struck the vital point with precision to knock him out.'
Zak had not missed the moment Feyr had kicked Kail squarely in the temple.
Even at such a young age, he had a keen understanding of vital points.
What's more, ambush or not, he had brought down Kail—the direct bloodline of Beilhart.
'For lowborn blood, he has some usable talent.'
If this one were raised properly, he would make a fine asset.
Zak held Feyr's gaze for a moment, then stepped down from the platform and stopped in front of him.
"Congratulations, maggot. You're top-ranked."
"Thank you."
Feyr gave a slight bow of his head.
It was nothing more than perfunctory deference, yet Zak found the attitude agreeable enough in its own way.
"Hmm."
Zak swept his gaze over the trainees sprawled across the ground.
Every last one of them was groaning or had lost consciousness.
Yet not a single one among them was dead.
Zak furrowed his brow and asked.
"Why did you not kill any of them?"
Feyr quietly raised his head.
"If you order me to kill, I will kill."
"What do you mean by that?"
To Zak's question, Feyr answered flatly.
"Do you chase down every fly that crosses your path and kill it, instructor?"
At Feyr's answer, Zak's eyes went wide.
It was not the kind of answer one would expect from a child of barely thirteen or fourteen years.
Zak let out a hollow laugh as if dumbfounded.
"Ha. Ha."
Barely a few hours had passed, and he had already grasped his own situation perfectly and submitted to it.
Had there ever been a talent like this before?
Most were nothing but inferior stock, good only for begging for their lives.
Even for Zak, this was the first time he'd come across someone whose attitude was so different from the very start.
"For a piece of trash, your answer is to my liking."
"……"
Zak turned his back on Feyr, who was bowing his head once more, and walked toward the instructors.
"I am going to see the family head. See to this place in my absence."
"Yes, understood!"
Zak set off in haste.
***
Outside the Beilhart domain, to the north—the habitat of magical beasts in the snowy mountains.
That was where Zak headed. He had heard word that the family head, Azazel Beilhart, had personally gone out to hunt magical beasts.
As he began climbing the steep mountain range, a faint smell of blood drifted toward him from far off. By the time Zak had ascended to the middle of the snowy mountain—
'……'
It was already difficult to call this place a snowy mountain any longer.
A mountain of corpses, a sea of blood.
Blood and the bodies of magical beasts were scattered everywhere.
At the center of that mountain of corpses—
A middle-aged man could be seen, sword in hand, drenched head to toe in blood.
"……I pay my respects to the family head."
Zak approached and knelt on one knee in salute.
The man slowly shifted his gaze to look at Zak.
"What is it."
The pressure emanating from his very voice was enough to make one's head spin.
He was the head of the Beilhart family and one of the Six Stars of the continent.
The Sword Star, Azazel Beilhart.
Zak raised his head and opened his mouth.
"I have come to report a matter that occurred at the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground."
Zak gave a brief account of what had happened at the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground.
As Zak's report continued—
Swish.
Azazel raised his arm.
"My bloodline lost to a mere slave?"
Before Zak could even reply, a menacing energy erupted from Azazel.
The sharp and towering killing intent unique to a Sword Master.
He had let his displeasure show, as if the whole thing were absurd.
Azazel kept his pressure unrestrained as he looked at Zak.
"……Go on. In more detail."
"Yes."
This time, Zak recounted in full everything he had witnessed. How the lowly, slave-born Trainee Feyr had defeated Kail. Even the manner in which Feyr had responded to his own questions. Every last thing about Feyr that he had seen at the training ground.
At that, Azazel withdrew his energy and let out a scoff.
"An interesting one has come in."
At those words, a glimmer of surprise crossed Zak's eyes.
Had Azazel Beilhart ever reacted like this before?
The man who would treat even his own son like an insect the moment he failed to meet expectations—that was Azazel. Which meant Feyr's existence was genuinely unexpected.
Azazel gave a casual wave of his hand.
"The report on that one is enough. As for the insect who lost the fight, throw him in the Wall-Gazing Hall."
So he no longer even calls him his son.
'The Wall-Gazing Hall, of all places. Still as merciless as ever.'
The Wall-Gazing Hall was a place built for closed-door training, where all contact with the outside world was completely cut off. Its walls were said to be ones that even a fully-fledged Sword Expert's swordsmanship could not easily break through—a space of utter harshness.
Azazel had ordered his own youngest son, Kail, to be locked in such a place.
Zak replied at once, without a change in expression.
"Yes. I will see to it. Also, regarding the top-rank reward that has been prepared—what should be done with…?"
"Award it as intended."
Zak gave a respectful nod of his head, then descended the snowy mountain that had been transformed into something beyond the natural world.
***
The Lunar Eclipse Training Ground, which had been the scene of utter chaos, was now tidied up as if nothing had ever happened.
Following the instructors' directions, the trainees lined up in rows.
The numbers had thinned considerably, however. The test had left many trainees injured.
Most had sustained only minor wounds, but among them were quite a few who had been disposed of by the instructors to reduce the headcount.
Even so, the instructors herded the trainees along as though it were nothing.
Head instructor Zak stepped up onto the platform.
"Attention."
"Attention!"
Zak called out first, and the trainees echoed it back.
"This instructor is disappointed. You lot are a far greater collection of maggots than anticipated."
At Zak's scathing words, every trainee fell silent.
"If you continue at this level, all of you will be summarily disposed of."
The trainees flinched at the words summarily disposed of. The cruelty of having one's skull caved in for nothing more than asking a question without permission.
They could only imagine their own futures being worse than that, not better.
Feyr watched the trainees in silence.
'One wrong move and they'd dismember you limb from limb.'
It was only natural they were frightened. Already, a handful of trainees were trembling with fear.
Zak scowled and shouted.
"Want to live? Then obey. Prove your worth. Do that, and you'll survive. Understood!"
"Yes, sir!"
Overwhelmed by the atmosphere, the trainees answered with everything they had.
A scene that was nothing short of a military regiment.
Only then did Zak curl the corner of his mouth in something like satisfaction. In the midst of that taut silence, Zak's gaze turned to Feyr.
"Number 24. Step forward."
"Yes."
Trainees at the Lunar Eclipse Training Ground were called by number rather than name as a matter of course.
As Feyr walked forward, every slave's attention snapped to him.
Fear, envy, and awe.
Eyes filled with all manner of emotions.
Zak opened his mouth toward Feyr, who had stepped up onto the platform.
"You there—what's your name?"
"Feyr."
"Exactly the kind of name a maggot would have. I'll remember it."
Zak held out a small glass vial to Feyr. A dark reddish liquid sloshed ominously within.
"Drink it."
"Yes."
Without a moment's hesitation, Feyr tipped the contents into his mouth. Seeming satisfied by that sight, Zak gave a slight nod.
Ordinarily, one would question or be wary of such an unidentified liquid.
'Basilisk blood.'
Feyr, who already knew full well what it was, had nothing to hesitate over.
By rights, this would have been the reward Kail received for taking top rank. But this time, top rank belonged to Feyr.
'It was so rare I'd barely even had the chance to lay eyes on it.'
Feyr suppressed the smile that kept trying to creep onto his face.
The Basilisk was a massive reptilian magical beast resembling a serpent, distinguished by a crown-like crest atop its head. Its blood was classified as one of the higher-grade spirit medicines.
Not only were the creatures rare in number—the effects of the blood more than lived up to its price.
It corrected imbalances in skeletal structure and, most notably, strengthened the bones—capable of transforming even a reed-thin, gaunt frame into a body of iron.
It took a full month to fully absorb, of course, but it was a spirit medicine so scarce it couldn't be obtained even if one tried.
And yet—
"Ugh……!"
As the saying goes, the best medicine is bitter.
As a backlash from the body absorbing the effects of the spirit medicine, a tremendous pain surged through his flesh.
Feyr let out a groan as the agony crashed into him without warning.
"Krgh……!"
A feeling as though his entire body was being shattered to pieces.
He tried desperately to hold onto his consciousness, but it was not something that could be helped by will alone.
Feyr collapsed to the ground right then and there.
Zak, who had been watching idly, turned to an instructor beside him.
"Remove him."
The instructors immediately carried Feyr off toward the barracks.
At that sight, the trainees in the training ground were uniformly horrified.
Zak scoffed.
"What Number 24 just consumed is a spirit medicine. Something far beyond what trash like you lot deserves."
A spirit medicine? Why on earth would such a precious thing be given to a mere slave?
Every trainee wore a look of identical bewilderment.
Zak continued in an even tone.
"Remember this. Your lives do not belong to you. Every drop of blood, every strand of hair—all of it belongs to Beilhart. However, to those who serve the family's orders with loyalty and sincerity, rewards such as this will be given. The top-ranked trainee in the upcoming assessments will be provided with a spirit medicine."
In other words, the spirit medicine Feyr had received was a result of faithfully carrying out the family's command.
At that, the trainees' expressions finally settled into understanding. And alongside that, envy and greed began to cloud every face.
Seize the top rank, prove one's performance—and a spirit medicine could be theirs.
But then—
A single sentence from Zak turned the atmosphere to stone once more.
"Naturally, the trash with low scores will be summarily disposed of."
At the words of a cold and merciless reality, the trainees again chewed on their tension with darkened faces.
Zak, watching that sight with indifference, turned to the instructor beside him.
"How many died today?"
"Seventy percent, sir."
Zak gave a single nod, then shouted.
"You all heard. You run the dead ones' share. Seventy laps around the training ground!"
The trainees, caught off guard and still unable to collect themselves, stared blankly.
Zak, his expression twisting with annoyance, pulled the whip from his waist and cracked it against the ground.
Crack!
"Seventy laps!"
"S-seventy laps!"
Eyes finally snapping to, the trainees moved their bodies at once.
"If you don't want to be disposed of, stop standing around like fools and run. Move!"
"M-move!"
At Zak's shout, the trainees of the training ground all broke into a run at once.