Chapter 163
Chapter 163
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 163
Chapter Title: Hierarchy (2)
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Pssh-.
Like a candle flame snuffed out by a gust, a thin trail of golden smoke rose pitifully into the air.
Yuri's lips pursed in a pout as the magic sword vanished again in under five seconds.
"Aw, come on. Four seconds? That's all it is, four seconds."
She knew it had lasted just a bit over three, but pride wouldn't let her admit it.
He stroked his chin.
'Is this enough to call the magic sword complete, or not?'
Yohan's assignment had been to finish it in over a year.
He had made the sword, but the result left a nagging doubt.
'Would that foul-mouthed old geezer accept a four-second sword as complete?'
The deliberation didn't last long, and the answer was clear.
'Like hell he would! He'd probably love the chance to mock me!'
Even Poppi teased him endlessly—there was no way that old man would pass up such prime material.
The moment he found out, the ribbing would be relentless until his ears blistered.
So Yuri resolved himself.
"I'll hide it for now. No matter what!"
He wouldn't breathe a word to Yohan until he could hold it for at least a minute... no, at least thirty seconds.
And to do that, what Yuri had to do was obvious.
"Mana... I need to pack in more mana."
He had to grow his mana core even harder than before.
Stuffing himself with elixirs and potions wherever he could find them.
The problem was that mana potions hadn't shown up in the special sales lately.
His bank account was piling up with unused points as a result.
And with that, a dark temptation began to rear its head.
'Loot box... Should I crack open one more?'
His pupils dilated for a split second before he snapped back to his senses.
Shaking off the urge, he looked up at the sky.
"Ahh... If only some tasty elixir or potion would just drop from somewhere."
The drifting clouds almost looked like delicious elixirs.
If one plopped down from the heavens, he'd snatch it up in a heartbeat.
Lost in such idle thoughts as he stared blankly at the sky.
A familiar bellow echoed from afar.
"Yuri! 50th Cohort, assemble!"
* * *
The 50th Cohort, now down to 160 after ten were booted in March's end-of-month evaluation.
It had been a month since the last quest, and they were gathering again.
Just over a month had passed, but they looked different somehow.
More dignified, more at ease, perhaps?
It was only natural.
No, it had to be.
Mid-April already.
They'd spent more than a third of the year in Yoram—plenty of time for even the slowest to adapt.
Of course, anyone that slow would have been expelled long ago.
The reunited 50th Cohort scanned their surroundings with sharp eyes, lost in their own thoughts.
'First time back in the circular arena since the Baekbo Ceremony.'
'Full assembly after so long—must be a joint quest.'
'A quest starting in the circular arena... What could it be?'
The location and content of this quest, who to ally with, who to compete against.
Mapping out the dynamics in their heads was one of the cohort's positive changes.
And right then.
"...They're here."
Someone muttered softly, and all eyes turned to one side.
Three figures strolled in right on the edge of announcement time.
Blue hair, bald head.
And black hair.
Yuri and his crew, known among the 50th Cohort as the "Clique."
They called them the Clique for two reasons.
Yuri never surrendered his No. 1 spot in end-of-month evaluations, with the other two locked in 2nd and 3rd right behind.
The top three scores sticking together—that was one.
Plus, their personalities were so wildly unique, beyond eccentric into outright bizarre—that was the other.
And to the 50th Cohort, this "Clique" was their top priority threat.
So when Yuri and his friends appeared, the chatter in the cohort died down.
Everyone watched their every move.
Oblivious or not, the trio was bickering as usual.
"I told you to hurry up! We almost got here late!"
"We're not late. My internal clock is spot-on. And do I look like the type to be tardy from a distance you could nose-dive into?"
"I'm hungry."
"...Poppi, you bastard, did you just mock me again?"
"Yeah, I said you're quick on the draw, premature little shit..."
"Kyaa! You muscle-pig chrome-dome, just when I thought I could stand you!"
Yuri leaped onto Poppi's back, smacking that bronze bald head with sharp slaps.
Arin, finding it hilarious, jumped on too.
Poppi bucked like a wild bull to shake them off.
"......"
"......"
"......"
The 50th Cohort averted their eyes from the Clique's antics.
They steeled themselves against the urge to relax, gazing at the sky.
'...Don't fall for that moronic act.'
'It's probably a ploy to lower our guards... Yeah, that's it.'
This time, they vowed, they wouldn't lose to those lunatics no matter what.
By then, assembly time had arrived, and right on the dot, the Black Sword Troopers appeared without fail.
The 50th Cohort snapped into orderly formation.
The glasses-wearing man swept his gaze over them, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Long time no see, everyone."
The cohort blinked in mild surprise at the warmth, but his face went blank as if it had never happened.
Back to his usual cold Black Sword Trooper demeanor, he spoke in his standard tone.
"Commencing briefing for the third joint quest. The quest is titled 'Hierarchy Establishment.'"
The words landed, and the 50th Cohort's faces hardened instantly.
The glasses man flashed a sly grin.
"Judging by your faces, you've got a rough idea what this one's about."
Snap-.
He flicked his fingers, and Black Sword Troopers hauled in a massive wooden ranking board and a box.
"The content is simple. First, decide your hierarchy among yourselves. Tournament, free-for-all brawl, whatever suits you. As long as the strongest ends up on top, we Black Sword Troopers won't interfere."
With that, he reached into the box.
He pulled out a small wooden nameplate and a writing tool.
"Then, write your decided hierarchy here..."
Clack-.
"And hang it up like this. I assume no idiots here can't grasp something this basic."
He affixed the nameplate to the giant board—the ranking board—next to the "1st Place" label, then dusted off his hands.
"Now, the most important part: quest rewards. Places 1 through 5 on the ranking board earn qualification for the year-end Muryong Tournament. Look up what that is yourselves."
He waved dismissively, as if explaining further was a hassle.
"Second reward: The No. 1 ranker gains the right to levy up to 5% of points from all below them. In other words, everyone else has to cough up 5% of their monthly points income to the top dog. Every month."
A gasp erupted from one side: "Holy shit! They're officially endorsing tribute?!"
The glasses man smirked at the gleaming golden eyes.
"Call it tribute, tax, whatever floats your boat."
"I have a question!"
It was Yuri, hand shot up high.
"You said every month, so does that mean..."
"Sharp one, aren't you? This isn't a one-off quest."
He tapped the ranking board.
"This board sticks with you from now until you graduate Yoram. Fun times ahead, right?"
"......"
The 50th Cohort held their tongues.
Monthly evaluations were comprehensive scores.
But this "Hierarchy Establishment" was different.
It judged pure individual combat prowess.
This board might become a brutal "grade report" of their true abilities.
So even if not No. 1, landing high up boosted personal value.
Tension gripped the cohort.
As they stood with grim faces, the glasses man added abruptly.
"Oh, and one absolute rule: Higher ranks can't refuse challenges from below. Especially No. 1—if they refuse, they're instantly demoted. That's all."
With that, he led the Black Sword Troopers away.
In their wake, silence blanketed the circular arena.
Not a whisper among the 160.
They just eyed each other warily.
'How should we decide the hierarchy?'
'What method works best for me?'
Time slipped by as they schemed for the slightest edge.
Daniel Bruel broke the ice with a loud proposal.
"No point wasting time—let's just go all-out group battle. First ones out go to the bottom ranks, survivors fill the top in order. Rough out the hierarchy, then handle individual challenges later, yeah?"
Opposition came immediately.
From Pana Taylor.
"If we do a group melee, some'll team up for sure. Fair? Better classic tournament style!"
Another rebuttal followed.
Ivan Baskin this time.
"Tournaments are too luck-of-the-draw on brackets. Say you and I match up early, you drop in the round of 32, but some scrub weaker than you hits quarters—gonna accept that?"
"Of course not. I'd challenge that punk and crush him. Wait, why am I the one dropping against you?"
"You think you could beat me with your skills? Hilarious."
"...Wanna settle it right now? That it?"
Pana and Ivan glared daggers until Nelli wedged between them.
"Calm down, both of you. How about mixing both? Like real martial tournaments—group prelims, then bracket finals. Saves time too."
A few in the cohort nodded approval.
Clarice Van jumped in next.
"Go with a points system."
"Points?"
"Win gives +1, loss -1. Highest score on top."
"That'd take thousands of matches for 160 people to sort out—how long you wanna drag that?"
"We've got five years anyway, right? Points look way more legit than flip-flopping on single wins."
"Sigh... Fine, but who's tracking points? You volunteering, Clarice?"
"...Hadn't thought of that."
Suddenly, ideas flew from all directions—no more wary glances.
Nelli's tournament hybrid got the most support.
But egos clashed over whose favored method to pick, and consensus stalled.
Arin watched the chaos blankly.
"Ugh, so noisy. Hmm... Yuri, what do you think? What's the best wayyy... Huh?"
She turned to ask, but Yuri was gone. She scanned around.
Spotting him at the ranking board, she yelled.
"When did he sneak all the way over there? Yuri, what're you doing!"
Her shout—
Or rather, the "Yuri" in it—
Silenced the market-like din instantly.
All eyes locked on Yuri at the board.
Enough stares to burn the back of his head, but Yuri ignored them, focused on his task.
Rustle rustle-.
Hand in the box where the glasses man had taken the nameplate and tool, Yuri pulled out just the writing tool.
Humming a tune, he approached the board.
He eyed the empty spot next to "1st Place," where the glasses man had hung his demo plate.
"Hmm......"
Then he grinned, yanked the empty plate free, and chucked it behind him.
"......?"
The 50th Cohort stared dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, Yuri wrote his name in the newly freed "1st Place" slot, ignoring the reactions.
Stroke by stroke.
Meticulously, with great care, until finally.
"Done!"
Yuri admired his neatly finished "1st Place: Yuri Holland," then turned around.
Only then did he register the 159 pairs of eyes, waving cheerily.
"Ah, keep doing what you were. Don't mind me."
"......"
A chill silence descended on the arena.