Chapter 532
Chapter 532
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 532
Chapter Title: Trial
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1.
From the moment they stepped onto the passenger ship's deck, there was no need to hold Lurue's hand anymore.
Upon entering the translucent barrier enveloping the ship, it felt as though they'd stepped into an indoor space.
The fact that it maintained a barrier of this scale under the crushing pressure of the deep sea made the passenger ship an artifact rivaling Akula in its own right.
Unlike Akula, which preserved its original form as much as possible, the passenger ship was just a shell.
Stepping inside revealed a lavish hall that no one could have guessed from the exterior, welcoming Siwoo and Lurue.
He had expected something impressive.
After all, someone who smuggled a mini-submarine as a gift for an apprentice witch couldn't be just any ordinary rich person.
But the sight before him exceeded even those expectations.
"Wow..."
It was the most luxurious building Siwoo had ever seen.
Floors, ceilings, walls—everything glittered blindingly with jewels and gold.
Even the massive pillars around the trees featured refined carvings, embedded with fist-sized crystal ornaments numbering in the dozens.
He realized that when interior design involved plastering money everywhere to the point of looking nouveau riche, it could still draw genuine admiration if done this thoroughly.
"This way."
But Lurue merely glanced around the interior before moving on without any explanation or boasting.
In fact, she had seemed far more confident when showing off the underwater scenery.
"A kingdom imbued with splendid dignity."
"...To be frank without flattery, I cannot comprehend my master's sense of interior design. Once it becomes mine, I shall tear it all apart and rebuild."
"For example?"
"I plan to purchase an aircraft carrier."
"......"
Exchanging such trivial banter, they exited to the left of the hall and walked down a long corridor carpeted in plush fabric.
The doors lining both sides were all locked, and despite the lack of any sensed presence, the interior was spotless, as if freshly cleaned that morning.
Gazing at the candelabras adorning the walls, he asked,
"Your Majesty, what exactly is this trial?"
"Do you know when a witch is most vulnerable to death?"
"I remember you saying it's right after an apprentice witch receives the stigma."
"Indeed."
Inheriting the stigma from one's predecessor doesn't mean one can immediately wield all the magic contained within proficiently.
Depending on the hierarchy, it usually takes about ten years of optimization to match the predecessor's performance, and that's when a true witch's life truly begins.
"Then, what would be the best way to shorten that period?"
"Please enlighten me."
"A battle against oneself."
"A battle against oneself...?"
"A witch's magic refines more swiftly in the heat of life-or-death combat."
So, was the trial a fight to the death?
But what did battling oneself mean?
After traversing the unusually long corridor, a door appeared.
Unlike the other firmly locked doors, it slid open smoothly the moment Lurue approached.
An empty room containing nothing but pillars and candelabras.
In its center sat a large orb about as tall as Siwoo's waist.
Resting on a soft cushion, the orb resembled a black pearl—opaque, dark, and perfectly spherical.
It was so smooth that one's face should reflect in it, yet it absorbed all light like an abyss, emitting none back.
"Ugh..."
Lurue wore the expression she made during meals when a hated side dish ended up on her spoon.
The look of someone forcing down food they truly despised, unwilling to set it aside as ungraceful despite having picked it up.
Well, he'd already gathered from various clues that she didn't much like the trial.
Lurue continued her explanation calmly, without showing much reaction.
"This orb is an artifact named the 'Cradle of Dreams.' Infuse it with mana, and it sends the user into their deep subconscious."
"I see."
"There, you battle a version of yourself that has unlocked all potential. Victory signifies transcending your limits."
A witch who has just completed inheritance is in an incomplete state, not yet having unlocked all potential.
Thus, slaying the fully unlocked version of oneself proves complete inheritance.
Siwoo, fully grasping Lurue's explanation, perked up.
Ever since the incident with Bianca, he'd discovered another personality dormant within him.
A greedily magic-hungry machine devoid of humanity, one that seized control at the brink of death and fought Bianca on equal footing.
And that wasn't all.
When he regained consciousness and retraced how that entity had used magic, his own magical abilities had improved dramatically.
Afterward, he'd tried various methods to meet that subconscious personality again, but even entering Ain yielded nothing.
But what about this artifact?
"Your Majesty, is this Cradle of Dreams usable only by you?"
"Hm?"
He didn't know the exact scope or level of potential the Cradle reproduced.
But if it included the 'Siwoo within his subconscious'...
Couldn't he face it?
That idea sparked in his mind.
"The trial? No. There are no restrictions on use."
"Then I'd like to try it as well."
Bowing politely, Lurue looked at him as if he'd said something bizarre.
"There's no reason to deny you. However, it will be arduous, tedious, and painful. The battle occurs in the subconscious, but consciousness remains sharp. It's no different from fighting for real."
"That's fine."
"Fine...?"
"Yes."
This was a golden opportunity.
No matter how realistic sparring sessions with his master got, there were limits.
They had to hold back to avoid injuring each other.
But according to Lurue, the Cradle of Dreams was essentially a sophisticated VR device.
It offered combat as close to real as possible, without risk of injury or death—a huge merit.
Considering how much his skills had advanced after each brush with death, it was even more appealing.
And if he could surpass the Siwoo in his subconscious, even if it took time?
That would grant strength rivaling most witches.
It could even help his master, who was struggling alone to hunt public enemies.
Reading the strange zeal in Siwoo's eyes, Lurue tilted her head, puzzled.
"Seeking hardship. Quite the unique taste. To be honest, I detest this trial immensely. I'd prefer if you handled my share as well."
"I still want to do it."
"Granted."
Lurue and Siwoo stood side by side before the orb.
"As you wish, you go first. The method is simple. Place your hand atop it."
As instructed, he laid his hand on it, feeling a cold, smooth sensation cling to his palm.
"Now infuse mana."
"How much?"
"Pour it all in. That's why I can only challenge it once a month."
"Any other precautions? Things I should know?"
Lurue pondered, hand on chin.
"Injuries will hurt terribly, so take care. Fatal wounds eject you automatically, but lesser ones bring excruciating pain."
"Understood."
"Also, upon entry, you'll see a large square platform. To forfeit, run to the edge and jump off."
"Got it. Thank you."
"Then, good luck."
Siwoo infused his mana, and the world turned black in that instant.
2.
It felt like the blink of an eye.
But in that split second, he'd arrived somewhere else, as if by teleportation.
Lurue, who had been beside him, was gone, of course.
This was a space within his subconscious, like Ain—untrespassable by others.
Describing the surroundings...
Like Ain, it was pitch black, as if tossed into the void of space.
The darkness, transparent yet impenetrable, stretched endlessly in all directions.
The Cradle of Dreams felt so similar to Ain that it might have been modeled after it.
The differences: unlike Ain's free-floating, gravity pulled firmly here.
And there was a vast white square platform anchoring his falling body.
Too large to gauge easily, but per Lurue, a cliff lay at its edge.
"Hm?"
Glancing around, he noticed the red branch suddenly in his hand.
As if it had always been there, now asserting its presence.
The red branch, which Siwoo treated almost as his main weapon, bordered on an example of autonomic magic.
Being a subconscious space, even physical objects from outside manifested faithfully.
No enemy in sight yet, so he first wove shadow into armor and donned it.
The eerie silence made the clinking of the armor's joints echo like a train.
From the moment he realized this wasn't everyday reality, adrenaline coursed through his veins along the quiet flow of time.
Clank clank clank
Then, heavy armor shifted behind him.
Turning, he saw a black knight with a helmet pulled low.
A stylish black suit of armor based on an old junk game he'd played.
Honestly, as 'shadow,' it was wearable, but as real metal, it had no merits beyond looking cool.
Red branch slung casually over the shoulder.
Golden glow seeping from beneath the visor.
"......"
Unmistakably Shin Siwoo.
Watching oneself move from afar felt profoundly strange.
"Long time no see."
"......"
As expected, no reply.
Yet despite identical armament, it looked overwhelmingly strong.
No, it wasn't just appearance. This black knight was truly powerful.
His instincts screamed it.
This wasn't mere potential—it embodied the subconscious potential surpassing Siwoo himself.
Click
Sharing the same consciousness as a phantasm?
Both sensed the tension and assumed stances simultaneously.
Knees slightly bent, coiled with spring for a forward lunge.
Red spear tips drooping just a bit lower.
Everything identical, save the mirrored sides.
"Pierce."
"Pierce."
With identical incantations, the two armors left brushstroke afterimages and charged at each other.