The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.

Chapter 70 70: Selection trial Or Execution Ground

Oh crap.

The words did not leave Gazel's mouth but they tore through his skull like a siren.

He had celebrated too early.

The inspection was not over.

The orb was still going to check for remaining demons.

And if it found even a trace…

Cold. Bone deep cold.

The line formed again, faster this time. No complaints. No whispers. Just the sound of boots scraping stone and people swallowing fear.

Second round.

The orb floated forward.

This time it moved smoother, almost lazily, pulsing gold instead of red as it scanned each person. Gold meant clean. Gold meant safe.

Gazel's heart was not convinced.

It hammered against his ribs as the orb drifted closer.

He could not run.

If he ran, death would be mercy. They would not kill him quickly. They would peel answers out of him. Slowly.

So he locked his jaw. Emptied his face. Let his eyes go blank.

The orb stopped in front of him.

White light.

It scanned him from head to toe.

It stayed white.

Longer than usual.

Too long.

The silence thickened. Even the air felt heavy. Gazel could feel every beat of his heart. He saw flashes. Fire. Blood. The small world collapsing. Master C's grin.

This is it.

Then—

Green.

The orb flashed green.

A wave of breath released around him. People did not even realize they were holding it.

Gazel almost sagged.

Ashiro's eyes lingered on him as the orb drifted away. Narrow. Searching.

For a second, Ashiro looked almost disappointed.

He could almost swear the kid was a demon.

But the orb had declared him blessed.

Blessed.

Gazel exhaled slowly, carefully. His mind flooded with relief so sharp it almost hurt. He had brushed against death. He could still taste it.

Lucky.

That was the only word.

The inspection ended. Clean.

The head healer and the oracle left with the remains of the demons. The courtyard felt lighter without them.

Master C stayed.

He stepped forward, hands behind his back.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, voice deep, smooth, almost gentle.

It did not match the man.

"But being a Shural means this will be carved into your memory. You will see worse."

His gaze lingered on the second and third columns.

Predator studying meat.

"Now that the demon issue is settled, let's move to why you were called here."

His eyes shifted to the newbies.

"You survived the demon onslaught at the Bulwark. That makes you the lucky bunch."

A smile curved his lips.

Then it changed.

"Some of you were so lucky you entered the small world. Which most called Crazy World."

His eyes lost warmth.

"And ruined it."

The ground beneath him creaked.

"I'm not angry," he said calmly.

His aura said otherwise.

It leaked out like invisible pressure. Heavy. Suffocating.

"I can assure you, the two lunatics responsible have run out of luck. The moment I laid eyes on them, bad fortune clung to their shadows."

Gazel froze.

Blaze stiffened beside him.

There was no doubt.

He was talking about them.

Right on cue, Master C's gaze slid to the duo.

His eyes narrowed into slits.

A grin split his face. Not wide. Not loud.

Predatory.

"I promise," he said softly, "they will repay my troubles several hundredfold. I will personally make sure of it."

Blaze turned pale.

Gazel trembled despite himself.

They knew he could not kill them inside the Bulwark.

That did not comfort them.

If there was one truth about Master C, it was this.

He was insane.

And when his attention settled on you, you did not step into danger.

You stepped out of heaven and straight into hell.

For the first time since arriving here, Gazel regretted everything.

Master C clapped his hands once, the madness in his eyes fading like a curtain drawn shut.

"Well. That is for later."

He smiled again. Friendly. Almost.

Fake.

"Now let me tell you what you need to know."

He began explaining. Important things. Rules. Structure. Expectations.

Gazel barely heard half of it.

There would be a selection exam.

The blessed newbies would take it.

Their performance would determine whether they became Shural.

Gazel frowned slightly.

Master C paused.

"Actually," he corrected, voice turning thin and sharp, "your performance will determine whether you live or not."

Would have loved to tell you that maybe, just maybe, you stand a high chance of surviving after fighting demons.

But I will not lie to you.

Your chances are extremely low.

Master C's voice was calm. Too calm.

"The demons' healing ability makes them a foe far from easy to defeat. Once the trial starts, some of you, if not most of you, will die."

Matter of fact.

Like he was talking about the weather.

The courtyard went pale.

The selection exam was simple in explanation and brutal in reality. Demons would be concealed in advance. The newbies would be sent in.

Their task.

Hunt them down.

Kill them.

It would not have sounded this terrifying if Master C had tried to inspire confidence.

Instead, he crushed it beneath his heel.

"And for motivation," he added lightly, "most of you will die. But do not worry. Those who survive will surely become strong Shural."

Silence.

The newbies looked like they had just been sentenced. Some of them never asked for this. Some of them had only recently discovered the supernatural world even existed.

Now they were being told they would be fed to demons.

Color drained from faces.

A wry smile tugged at Gazel's lips.

Crazy?

Who said that man was just crazy?

They were underestimating him.

This was not simple lunacy.

This was something beyond saving.

His madness was layered. Calculated. Almost artistic.

Just as dread began seeping into the crowd like poison, the petite young lady from the Five Terrors stepped forward.

Mira.

She moved with quiet grace. Radiant. A soft, cute smile resting on her face like sunlight after a storm.

"Do not be scared," she said gently.

Her voice carried.

"We might not be as strong as demons. We do not have their healing or regenerative power. We might not have their raw brutality."

She paused.

"But we have something they surely lack."

"And what is that supposed to be?" a teenage newbie blurted out. His voice trembled so badly it cracked. The poor guy looked like he might faint.

Mira turned to him. No ridicule. No impatience.

Just warmth.

"Simple," she said softly. "We are special. We are blessed. They are cursed."

A ripple moved through the crowd.

Some shoulders loosened.

Some breathing steadied.

Then another newbie raised his voice.

"Tell us… do we always win because we are blessed?"

Master C burst into laughter.

Loud.

Maniacal.

Disdain dripping from every note.

It echoed off the stone walls and made several people flinch.

He wiped at his eye as if the question physically hurt him.

"What you just asked," he said, still grinning, "is like asking whether that is the reason an ant can win against a rat."

The young man blinked. "But… an ant cannot kill a rat."

"Exactly."

The realization spread slowly.

Then all at once.

The fragile hope forming in their chests shattered.

Replaced by dread.

Mira shot Master C an annoyed look. He stopped laughing, though the grin never left his face.

He enjoyed this.

He genuinely enjoyed watching people unravel.

Gazel felt a chill.

Mira clasped her hands together.

"I will tell you a story."

A few newbies began to protest. Who cared about stories at a time like this?

She began anyway.

"There was once a petite young girl," she said. "A farmer. Her life was simple. She worked the fields with her family. She laughed. She dreamed small dreams."

Her voice softened.

"Then one day, everything changed."

The air grew still.

"Demons came."

No dramatics. Just truth.

"They slaughtered her family. She was nearly killed too. She watched them die. She smelled the blood. She heard their screams."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"She survived. Barely. And when she was saved, she was told she was blessed. That she could never return to a normal human life. That she should become a Shural."

Mira's smile did not fade.

"The girl accepted."

Gazel's eyes narrowed slightly.

"The selection trial was a nightmare," Mira continued. "Grotesque demons. Creatures that looked just like the ones who killed her family. They hunted her. They tore at her. She almost died. Again and again."

Several newbies looked sick.

"She was weak," Mira said. "Terrified. Bleeding."

Her gaze slowly swept the crowd.

"But she did not run."

Silence wrapped around the courtyard.

"She remembered her family."

Her voice trembled just a little now.

"She remembered the smell of blood. The sound of bones breaking. The way she felt when she was helpless."

The crowd held its breath.

The crowd was nearly driven to tears.

Some were already crying.

The weight of her story pressed against their chests, heavy and raw. A few wiped their eyes openly, no shame left in them.

An emotional lady stepped forward, voice shaking.

"So… how did the little girl survive?"

Mira's eyes lifted.

She looked at the sun blazing above them, bright and untouchable.

For a second, she was somewhere else.

She remembered the heat of blood on her skin. The screams. The smell of burning crops. She remembered lying on the dirt, barely breathing.

And she remembered something else.

She was not alone.

Her azura.

The spirits of the humans she wanted to protect.

The ones who died.

The ones who were still alive.

They were with her.

"And with that," Mira said softly, a small sad smile touching her lips, "came the strength that carried her through the trial. That allowed her to break through it. That allowed her to stand here today as the Shural you are looking at."

Silence.

Then cheers.

Loud.

Wild.

Hope surged like a tidal wave. Shoulders straightened. Tears turned into fierce nods.

They could do it.

They would do it.

Mira smiled.

Her work was done.

Meanwhile, one particular member of the Five Terrors felt his mouth twitch repeatedly.

Orion stood with his usual warm smile, hands folded behind his back.

Inside his head, chaos.

What the hell is Mira saying?

If she had told them even ten percent of the truth, they would not be smiling right now.

She turned her own story into a fable.

He almost laughed.

She really knows her way with words.

At another corner, Master C watched the crowd with open disdain.

Hope filled their eyes.

Morons.

He shook his head slowly.

They had no idea how much of that story was polished. Trimmed. Reshaped.

Only a fool would think Mira was the innocent petite girl she painted.

Maybe once, he had thought that too.

Then he saw her fight.

That illusion vanished like smoke.

In its place, he felt something unsettling.

Familiarity.

She was ruthless.

Just like him.

Maybe worse.

If these fools stepped into the trial thinking their journey would unfold like her pretty little story…

Master C clicked his tongue.

The casualty count might surpass the previous batch.

Mira waited until the noise died down.

Then she spoke again, calm and composed.

"The demons hold vast and unholy power," she said. "But they do not have our determination. They do not have our kindred spirit."

Her voice sharpened slightly.

"Together, as one, we will take them down."

The crowd leaned in.

"When you step into that field, do not go as someone waiting to be killed. Go as someone who intends to kill."

A pause.

"Kill as many demons as possible."

Her eyes swept across them.

"Do not see yourselves as prey. The demons are the prey. Make sure they understand that."

The cheers exploded again.

There was no doubt now.

Many were already looking at her like a beacon. Her story, her status, her presence. She was someone they could cling to.

Someone who made it.

More details were shared afterward.

They had one week to prepare for the selection trial.

They could request guidance, resources, training.

Questions were answered.

Then the gathering dispersed.

As the crowd thinned, Ashiro lingered silently.

His gaze found the young white haired boy again.

Gazel.

Their eyes almost met.

Almost.

Ashiro said nothing.

Then he turned and left.

Orion caught up to Mira, walking beside her.

His voice carried faint amusement.

"You do realize," he said lightly, "you might have just caused several deaths if they enter the trial clinging to that fable mindset."

Mira shrugged.

"They will survive. At least most of them will."

Confidence.

Cold and steady.

"As long as they attend my training classes and follow what I teach, they will survive. I will make sure of it."

Orion raised a brow.

"Training classes, huh?"

Then he smiled and keep walking.

"By the way. Which part of my story was the fable?"

Orion stopped walking.

Mira turned her head slowly and looked at him.

Her cute smile returned.

Bright.

Innocent.

As she asked again.

Softly, too soft even.

"Which part did you think was fake?"