Chapter 60
Chapter 60
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Hundred Steps Ceremony (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The footsteps of hundreds merged into a strange atmosphere.
Gulp.
As they moved further ahead, some swallowed dryly, while others broke out in cold sweats.
And then, the moment the 50th Cohort fully emerged from the passage into the light...
"...Hup?!"
The one at the very front gasped and froze.
"W-What's that?"
The person behind bumped into his back and scowled in surprise, but soon enough, they too drew in a sharp breath just like the leader.
But they couldn't afford to stop in shock.
There were hundreds more following behind.
Pushed by those behind, the front line entered the arena.
Those streaming in one after another into the circular arena showed no different reactions from the leaders.
"Huh?!"
No, it was fortunate if they only gasped in surprise.
Some were so shocked they even started hiccuping.
Finally, Yuri stepped into the circular arena, and at the sight before him, he burst out laughing.
"Ha? They're giving us this much of a welcome?"
The circular arena had looked huge from outside, but stepping inside revealed its true grandeur.
A massive central arena, surrounded by tiered seating that could hold tens of thousands.
And those seats were packed with people dressed in black.
'...Are all of them Black Sword Troopers?'
Only then did Yuri realize what this heavy, thick air was.
'Blood... and the scent of death.'
The Black Sword Troopers were renowned killing machines from around the world.
The blood they had spilled.
The blood caked on them.
The deaths clinging to them.
With tens of thousands concentrated like this, it was no wonder the air was so suffocating.
If any of the people here had weak constitutions, they'd have passed out from the onslaught of death's stench from all sides.
Even those with mana would lose their minds if their skills were middling.
In fact, some of the 50th Cohort who entered the arena were already cowed, their movements sluggish.
Meanwhile, Yuri quickly scanned the surroundings.
'Hm?'
What caught Yuri's eye was a section of seating different from the rest.
A deep recess into the arena's interior.
It was clearly a special area reserved for VIPs.
In that special seating stood a lavish chair.
Next, what drew Yuri's attention was the line starting from below that special seat and stretching across the arena floor.
'What the hell is that?'
White lines drawn at regular intervals around the special seat, like concentric circles.
'One, two, three, four...'
Roughly counting, there seemed to be about a hundred white lines.
While Yuri was distracted by that oddity, the 50th Cohort's line halted at the outermost of those white lines.
Then, a voice rang out.
"Line up!"
At the booming command, the 50th Cohort moved faster than ever.
With tens of thousands of eyes watching, tension was inevitable.
But since they hadn't received formal training, their ununified movements looked awkward.
Still, they somehow managed to form rough rows and columns.
Thud.
The one-eyed vice-captain, Duran Bikovich, stepped before the 50th Cohort.
"We now commence the 50th Dragon's Cradle Initiation Ceremony."
Even at this pivotal moment signaling the start of the rite, his voice carried a hint of amusement.
Duran lightly gestured toward his subordinates behind him.
Snap.
Dozens of Black Sword Troopers moved swiftly, distributing something to the 50th Cohort recruits.
It was a single sheet of paper pinned to a thin wooden board, along with a quill pen.
Those who bewilderedly accepted the boards blinked at the word at the top of the paper.
[Last Will and Testament]
Just those two words.
Below was a large blank space.
Anyone could see it meant to write your will right here.
The recruits, who had expected some proper ceremony for the initiation, widened their eyes in shock at the sudden demand to write wills.
Duran responded to their looks, as if pleading for explanation.
"In the lands of this Cradle, you can do anything. Of course, there are a few rules to follow for that freedom... but you'll learn those in time. Right now, sear just two things into your heads."
Duran raised his index finger, his single eye gleaming.
"First: The strong devour all! The strongest takes everything. The weak shut up and kneel!"
Then his middle finger rose.
"Second: If you want to grow strong, win by any means necessary. To win, even justified murder is permitted."
"......?!"
His words made the 50th Cohort recruits' hearts sink.
In the Forest of Beginnings, everything was allowed except murder.
But now, things had changed.
They were officially declaring that murder with proper justification was now allowed—not wanton killing.
Even these children of a competitive era found murder a foreign concept.
And permitting murder meant someone could die.
It could be someone around you... or even you.
Realizing that, they finally grasped the truth.
This land they stood on wasn't some refined academy for honing knowledge and virtue.
It was a battlefield.
Duran read their expressions.
"What, only now it's sinking in? What kind of place you've come to?"
His lone eye filled with delight as he flipped them the bird.
"You're fucked now. Heh heh heh."
Heh heh heh.
At Duran's raspy, phlegm-choked laugh, the recruits felt the wills in their hands grow unbearably heavy.
Seeing that, Duran smirked.
"What're you waiting for? Write 'em already."
"......"
"What? Can't do it? It's not too late. Just say the word. We'll send you home."
His mockery made the atmosphere sink even heavier.
But while everyone was grave...
One person was digging in his ear with bright, alert eyes, oblivious to the mood.
Scritch.
No matter the atmosphere, Yuri just found this all boring.
'What, you think we came to the Cradle without that much resolve?'
If anything, the serious mood over a mere will-writing struck him as ridiculous.
Fwoosh.
Yuri blew the earwax off his pinky.
As he picked up the quill to write his will, he blinked at the text at the bottom of the paper.
[I swear that if I divulge any matters concerning the Dragon's Cradle, I shall pay with my life, and even as a soul, I shall not reveal its secrets.]
Seeing that, Yuri chuckled.
'Is this a will or a nondisclosure agreement?'
Looked like the Cradle folks had a bad case of bureaucratic hassle.
Trying to knock out two birds with one stone.
'This is basically bundling an NDA with the will, isn't it?'
Whatever. Will or NDA.
It didn't matter either way.
Yuri stylishly penned his document with the quill.
Scratch- scratch-.
It took him less than 30 seconds.
He handed his will to the waiting Black Sword Trooper.
It was the first submission among the 300 in the 50th Cohort.
That first will in the heavy atmosphere broke the dam, getting things flowing.
With Yuri leading, the others snapped to.
'Yeah, how'd we make it this far!'
'Cradle life starts now! Can't back out over this!'
They gritted their teeth and wrote their wills.
Of course, not everyone was so grave.
Many wrote theirs calmly, having long suspected the Cradle's nature.
Thus, under the gaze of tens of thousands, the 50th Cohort recruits penned their wills.
The Black Sword Trooper who received the very first one looked back and forth between the will and Yuri with a bewildered face.
As if questioning if this was for real.
Even under the piercing stare, Yuri shrugged without a change in expression.
"What?"
"......"
"What is it?"
"......"
At the sheer audacity, the trooper had no choice but to deliver the received will to Duran.
Duran smirked as he read it.
[Last Will and Testament]
I am immortal.
Quintessential Yuri—no tension whatsoever.
That mess of a one-liner will ended up at the very bottom of the stack.
Next came a will submitted almost simultaneously with Yuri's—Poppi's.
Swipe.
Yuri, with Poppi to his left and Arin to his right.
He sneaked a peek at Poppi's will as it passed him to the trooper.
A thought bypassed his brain and blurted straight out.
"...This guy's for real."
The reason Yuri had to say that.
Poppi's will had just one word.
[Last Will and Testament]
Hungry.
...Looks like this dude wasn't acting after all.
Following Yuri and Poppi, many others wrote and submitted their wills.
Some short and curt like Yuri and Poppi.
Others carefully choosing their last words.
A variety poured in.
Of course, even after some time, there were still holdouts.
Arin among them.
Arin Helga, scribbling away with unusual seriousness.
Curious what she was writing so intently, Yuri sneaked a peek at her will.
And once more, he muttered the same thing.
"...This one's for real too."
[Last Will and Testament]
Cake, butter cookies, roasted chicken, boiled chicken, fish steamed in black sauce. Bread with apple jam, French toast, southern-style noodles...
...Better stop there.
'Yeah, she's not right in the head either.'
Her will filled up with tiny writing listing foods.
She kept at it until there was no space left.
That was the very last will submitted.
Arin's will rose to the top of the stack.
Duran stared at the food-packed will in disbelief.
Arin Helga, Yuri Holland, and that Bobby-whatever guy.
The three of them stood there fidgeting.
'Figures weirdos like them would band together.'
How the hell did those types end up grouped?
It was just baffling.
"Tch!"
Duran clicked his tongue briefly and waved his hand dismissively.
His subordinate gathered the wills and vanished.
Thus ended the ceremony—initiation or will-writing, who knew.
"Congratulations, you moths who dove headfirst into hellfire! You are now the 50th Cohort of the Cradle."
With that, Duran stomped his foot.
Kuuuung!
The stomp of a mere human.
But it echoed louder than a barrage of dozens of cannons.
So loud some recruits clutched their ears.
And that was the signal.
Click- click- click-.
Tens of thousands of spectators.
The black-clad audience overlooking the arena rose as one.
At the same time, the one-eyed man drew a short ceremonial sword and turned.
Toward the special seating Yuri had noticed first.
Shing-.
Starting with him, every Black Sword Trooper in the seats drew identical ceremonial swords.
Perfectly synchronized, without a millimeter of error.
"W-What's going on?!"
"......?"
As the recruits panicked in confusion, someone muttered.
"...I've heard of this. Sword Salute!"
Black Sword Troopers hailed from diverse backgrounds, wielding different preferred weapons.
But they all shared one identical sword.
A ceremonial dagger given upon becoming a trooper.
Called the Black Shortsword, it was used for one rite alone.
Click.
Duran held his Black Shortsword upright before his chest.
In unison, tens of thousands mirrored him, facing the special seats.
Click.
Sword tip pointing skyward from before the heart.
A pledge of awe to the great master.
Slash.
The upright blade swept down diagonally, slicing forward.
A vow of the servants to cut down enemies for the great master.
This unique, solemn rite called the Sword Salute was directed toward...
The special seating where all Black Sword Troopers offered their reverence...
Where one person now entered.