Ben's Shortened Spearhead
From that day on, the flag of Ronan's team fluttered at the very front of the line.
Until the day before, it had been a mere training marker.
Now, it was different.
Perhaps because it had risen once more from the mud, even the stains left on the edge of the white cloth looked strangely dignified.
Every time Dorman looked at the flag, he held his shield a little straighter. Every time Lya saw the dirt smudges remaining on the back of Ronan's hand, she fidgeted with her handkerchief.
Neris, seemingly unable to forget the moment the second Phantom Sword had manifested, kept stealing glances at Ronan's fingertips as they walked.
"It was when you bent your finger for the third time," Neris said.
Lya immediately looked up.
"Even two is still too much," she chided.
Cerise did not argue. Instead, she was already calculating where she would step in to block the moment Ronan's fingers bent again.
Ronan spoke, keeping his eyes forward. "I'm telling you before you even ask."
Neris narrowed her eyes, clutching her observation board to her chest. "If you answer beforehand, the efficiency of my observations drops."
"You mean it reduces your excuse to hold my hand," Ronan retorted dryly.
Lya swallowed a tiny laugh.
Without looking back at them, Cerise commanded, "Quiet down. We're entering the shrub tunnel."
The path suddenly dipped. The shrubs of the Monster Forest tangled at waist height before arching tightly overhead, forming a dense tunnel. Wet leaves clung to every branch, and hard thorns capable of scraping knees raw hid near the ground.
It was a path where one could not swing a long sword or a shield freely.
Ben stood before the path and tried holding his spear upright. His spear was the longest in the team. While it was excellent for guarding the rear on wide roads, here, the spearhead caught on every branch.
Dorman asked worriedly, "Should we lower the spear?"
Ben shook his head. "If I lower it, it will scratch the face of the person behind me. I will keep it upright."
"My face, you mean?" Dorman asked.
"Mostly," Ben replied.
Dorman took a step back with a solemn expression.
Just then, a faint metallic sound echoed from the shrubs ahead.
Ting.
It was so quiet that it could have easily been mistaken for leaves rustling in the wind.
Yet Ben's wrist had already frozen. The tip of his spear trembled.
In the next instant, a thin wire hidden among the shrubs flashed and coiled. The wire snagged the steel reinforcement of the spearhead, and a small wedge embedded in a nearby tree trunk snapped loose at the same time.
Snap.
Ben's spearhead was sheared clean off. The broken metal tip fell onto the mud and rolled twice.
The air inside the tunnel froze.
All that remained in Ben's hand was a shortened shaft. Jagged shards of steel and splinters of wood protruded messily from the broken end.
Ben stared at the broken tip for a long moment.
Ever since he joined the team, he had been the one to fill the gaps in their formation. He never stood out at the front, nor did he receive applause from the back. He simply propped up anyone who slipped with his spear shaft, and silently covered Dorman's back whenever his shield wavered.
Thus, the long spear was not just a weapon to Ben. It was proof of his utility to the team.
And that proof now lay severed in the mud.
A burst of laughter erupted from behind.
"Hey, Lanky," a voice called out.
Bert of the red band team poked his head out from beside the shrubs. He was the tall cadet who had been hiding behind Kallen the day before. A bundle of thin wire was partially concealed at his belt, but the silver gleam of the metal caught the sunlight through the leaves.
"You said that long spear was your strength, but now you've only got half left," Bert sneered, mimicking the motion of hoisting a luggage sack. "Just carry the bags in the back. What are you going to do with a short stick like that?"
Dorman's shield tilted forward. Lya's eyes turned icy.
But the first one to move was Ben.
He looked down at the broken shaft. His grip tightened, veins bulging on his forearm. The easygoing expression of a man who was always a beat late to a joke vanished completely.
The wire that had severed the spearhead was still hidden among the shrubs. As Ben took a step forward, Ronan lightly pressed down on his spear shaft with the back of his hand.
"If you thrust with that, you'll only hurt your own hands," Ronan warned calmly.
"I know," Ben replied, his voice low. "That is why I am holding back."
Bert's laughter grew louder at those words. "He's holding back! What are you holding back when you don't even have a spear?"
Cerise quietly stepped up beside Ben. She glanced at the broken spear, then measured the width of the shrub tunnel.
"A long spear is slow in a place like this," Cerise said.
Ben turned his eyes toward her. It was not a scolding, but a tactical calculation.
Cerise tapped the underside of Ben's elbow with her scabbard.
"Don't rotate it with your wrist. Pull from below the elbow. Now that the tip is shorter, the path of your thrust is also shorter. In return, the speed of your recovery will be faster."
Ben did not answer, but the position of his grip on the shaft shifted.
Ronan did not bother picking up the severed spearhead from the mud. Instead, he looked at the broken end of the shaft in Ben's hands. The splintered wood was bent back toward the palm. Swinging it like that would only tear his flesh.
"I'm not fixing it for you," Ronan said. "I'm just shaping it so you can use it."
A single Phantom Sword materialized in the air.
The tip of the blade did not point at anyone. It shaved away the wooden splinters at the end of the broken shaft with extreme precision. A second blade appeared and vanished in a flash, pressing down the sharp edges of the remaining steel shards.
Shhhk.
The broken end was not made perfectly smooth. Instead, it curved slightly inward, leaving a hook-like shape.
Ben stared at the shape.
"I can hook things with this," Ben muttered.
Ronan smirked. "Exactly. That's no longer a thrusting spear. It's a pulling spear."
Bert stopped laughing. "What kind of trick is this? Are you planning to put on a show with a broken weapon?"
Mirea looked up at the top of the shrubs. "There's more than one wire."
Neris raised her observation board. "She's right. The water droplets on the leaves are suspended strangely. Water is hanging in perfect circles wherever the lines pass."
Lya spoke in a low voice, "If anyone trips here, their neck or face could be slashed."
At her words, the laughter from the surrounding teams died down. This was no mere prank; it was a lethal trap.
Bert shrugged belatedly. "Wires could just naturally be in the forest."
"I don't think the forest carries bundles of wire on its belt," Ronan remarked, staring at him.
Bert's hand instinctively drifted toward his waist.
In that exact moment, Ben moved.
He did not thrust forward.
Instead, he lowered his shortened spear. He slid the hooked end into the darkness beneath the shrubs, right where the wire that had cut his spearhead had run.
Once. Nothing caught.
Bert began to smirk again.
On the second try, the short spearhead disappeared into the leaves and emerged carrying a faint vibration.
It was the wire.
Ben did not pull.
Just as Cerise had instructed, he bent his arm below the elbow. Keeping his wrist steady, he rotated the shaft in a tight circle.
One by one, the hidden wires woke up within the shrubs.
Ting.
Ting, ting.
The water-laden leaves shuddered all at once.
The wires hidden along the ceiling and sides of the shrub tunnel revealed themselves in succession. It wasn't just a simple blockade. The traps were set to cross at the height of a ducking head and the height of a shoulder carrying a pack.
The faces of the surrounding cadets hardened.
Dorman shielded Lya with his buckler.
"This is no joke," Dorman muttered.
"Which is why Ben is handling it," Ronan said, manifesting two Phantom Swords.
The first blade pressed down on the sharp vibration of the wire right next to Ben's spear shaft. The second blade caught the tension at the unseen end behind the shrubs.
He did not cut the wire. Cutting it would destroy the evidence.
Instead, Ronan redirected it. He channeled the tension back toward the culprit.
"Ben," Ronan called out.
"Understood," Ben replied shortly.
This time, he threw his weight into it.
The shortened spearhead hooked the wire and swept in a wide arc. The bundle of wire hidden inside the shrubs unraveled in a rush. The line ran past branches and wedges, snaked beneath the leaves, and led straight to Bert's belt.
Bert tried to back away.
Too late.
The tip of the Phantom Sword lifted the end of the wire by half an inch. The wire whipped up like a snake, coiling tightly around Bert's belt.
"Huh?" Bert gasped.
Ben yanked the shaft.
Thud.
Bert was dragged headfirst into the shrubs.
Thorny leaves snagged his hair and shoulders. The hidden wire bundle unspooled from his belt, binding his arms in an awkward tangle. He tried to plant his feet to keep from falling, but his ankle caught on the very wedge his team had driven into the ground.
Splat.
Bert faceplanted into the mud at the entrance of the shrub tunnel.
The loose ends of the wire spilled over his back. He lay there, looking exactly like the luggage sack he had just been mocking.
Ben did not press the spear shaft against Bert's neck.
He took a deep breath. Choosing not to strike was harder now than it had been moments ago, as his fingertips still burned with the urge to repay the mockery.
Yet Ben did not point his weapon at a person. Instead, he used the short hook of his spear to lift the bundle of wire from Bert's belt.
He held it high for everyone to see.
"Did you find this in the forest?" Ben asked, his voice still low.
But this time, everyone heard him.
"If so, the forest must be incredibly tidy. To wind the wire so perfectly to fit your belt."
A few cadets burst into laughter.
This laughter was different from before. It was not directed at Ben.
Bert spat out mud and tried to push himself up, but the wire caught his collar and sleeve simultaneously, sending him tumbling back down.
Only then did Ronan dismiss his Phantom Swords.
"Didn't you say the luggage belongs in the back?" Ronan pointed at the pile of wire and wedges behind Bert. "You carry it. It's your luggage, after all."
Bert's face flushed crimson. No answer came.
An instructor approached from a distance but did not ask many questions. The wire caught in the shrubs, Bert's belt, and the final loop hooked on the end of Ben's shortened spear told the whole story.
"Retrieve all the wire," the instructor commanded curtly. "With your bare hands."
Bert's face grew even paler. Retrieving the wire with his bare hands meant he would have to risk his own fingers on the very lines he had set to cut others.
Ronan's team marched past him. Ben was the first to enter the shrub tunnel.
His spear was no longer long.
Yet in the narrow path, it was actually faster. The shortened tip did not push against the branches but hooked and cleared them out of the way, sweeping ahead to ensure they wouldn't trigger any hidden lines.
From behind him, Cerise spoke. "You are fit to take the vanguard."
Ben's shoulders stiffened slightly.
Her words were not meant as comfort, but as an acknowledgment of his ability to stand tall once more. It was recognition.
Dorman admired from behind his shield, "A short spear is quite impressive too."
Keeping his eyes forward, Ben replied, "It is not shortened."
A breeze blew from the exit of the shrub tunnel.
He hooked the final vine with the curved tip of his spear and swept it aside.
"It has been adapted to the path."
Ronan watched his back.
The weapon that had been mocked just moments ago was now at the very front, carving a path through the throat of the forest.
Ben's shortened spear was no weakness.
In the narrow tunnels of the Monster Forest, it was the weapon that opened the way before anyone else.