Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Hundred Steps Ceremony (4)
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Hundred Steps Ceremony.
This was an event that had begun with the 10th Cohort and been held without missing a single time over the past 41 years.
Among the Cradle's events, it was an exceptionally large-scale ceremony presided over by the Sword Lord himself.
For the existing cohorts, the Hundred Steps Ceremony served as a rite of passage to gauge the newcomers' abilities and a process for identifying those who might become future rivals.
On top of that, the small bets waged on the Hundred Steps Ceremony's results provided the existing cohorts with an irresistible form of light entertainment.
“I wonder how many steps they'll manage?”
“I'll bet 1,000 points they won't even hit three.”
“Then I'll put 2,000 on four steps.”
“Still, the ones left look decent enough—gotta be at least five, right?”
“Four and a half!”
The cohorts began predicting the 50th Cohort's performance one after another, basing their guesses on past Hundred Steps Ceremony records.
The all-time highest record was nine steps, set 35 years ago.
The best in the last decade had been eight steps, achieved two years prior.
Just as everyone was pegging the 50th Cohort's result at eight steps or fewer.
“Eight steps.”
The clear voice that suddenly rang out silenced those in the midst of their bets.
It was only natural that the slightly startled onlookers turned their heads.
The source of the voice that had surprised everyone was none other than the gathering area for the 49th Cohort.
It came from a single girl seated at the very front.
A famous figure well-known not just to her own 49th Cohort but to the other cohorts as well.
‘Theresia Winchester?’
‘What’s she doing here?’
Since she was someone who normally never inserted herself into such matters, the audience's shock was all the greater.
But her words weren't finished.
“100,000 points on more than eight steps.”
“……?!”
The gazes fixed on her brimmed with a blunt vibe of *Do you even realize what you just said?*
Even so, she paid them no mind and simply stared at the arena.
That was when it happened.
“Eight steps... You're saying something amusing, Theresia.”
A voice tinged with faint displeasure at Theresia's words rang out.
Its source was a man in the 48th Cohort's section, seated front row in a spot that seemed to straddle the line between a youth and a boy.
His thick blonde hair was cropped short.
Thick eyebrows framed black irises.
He was a handsome man with sharply defined features and bold lines.
His sudden interjection had the audience watching the unfolding drama with keen interest.
And how could it not be?
If Theresia represented the 49th Cohort, then this man was the 48th Cohort's figurehead and unifying force.
The attention that had zeroed in on Theresia now shifted entirely to him.
All eyes were glued to see how he would respond.
“You say eight steps so casually.”
The man was visibly irritated.
Yet the atmosphere around him held a measure of agreement.
Which was only natural, perhaps.
Two years ago.
The very person who had walked eight steps in this arena was him.
He had every qualification to speak of eight steps that way.
Theresia denied it curtly.
“I didn't say it casually. I gave it due thought and spoke because I believe it's possible.”
“…….”
“And I didn't say eight steps. I said *more* than eight steps.”
Her crisp, unwavering retorts made the man's eyebrows twitch.
A voice thick with tension leaked from him.
“Right—100,000 points on more than eight steps.”
“Yes.”
“I'll take that bet. I'll wager it won't happen. But!”
“…….”
“I'm raising the pot to 500,000 points. You in?”
At his provocative tone, Theresia shifted her gaze to the arena for a moment.
Her eyes refused to leave the black-haired boy standing ramrod straight, gazing at the Sword Lord.
Staring at Yuri, Theresia nodded.
“I'm in.”
* * *
Strength gathered in Yuri's eyes as he gazed at the Sword Lord.
‘Hundred Steps Ceremony.’
A simple ritual of pressing toward the Sword Lord through his horrific aura.
He had no idea why the Sword Lord—hailed as the world's absolute sovereign—was bothering with what amounted to child's play.
But Duran had told him.
The Hundred Steps Ceremony was a test the Sword Lord set for them.
‘A test? Hardly!’
Yuri saw it differently.
His fist clenched tight.
Crunch.
‘This is... a chance.’
Challenges against the Sword Lord normally demanded one's life.
The life-and-death bid known as Sword Throne usurpation.
To date, the only survivor of such a challenge was the Unyielding Sword, Johan Redner.
Yuri had assumed there were no other ways to challenge the Sword Lord besides Sword Throne usurpation.
But there was.
‘Not a direct fight with the Sword Lord, but a chance to at least glimpse the power of the world's strongest being.’
The Hundred Steps Ceremony was a golden opportunity to challenge the Sword Lord without staking his life.
Realizing this, Yuri looked up at the Sword Lord.
‘That's... a hundred steps away.’
The spacing between the lines was roughly 70 cm.
In other words, about 70 meters to the Sword Lord.
But the distance felt far vaster to Yuri's senses.
‘This is supposedly just a hundred steps?’
The Sword Lord did nothing—just sat there, chin propped on his hand.
Yet his overwhelming presence bore down crushing.
Yuri's body felt leaden, as if shackled in heavy iron bars.
‘Even from beyond a hundred steps it's like this—what happens if I step inside...?’
A nightmarish aura surely awaited.
Yuri bit his lip fiercely.
‘Can I even make it that far?’
He dwelled on the question.
But not for long.
‘Haha!’
Laughter burst forth inside him.
‘You idiot, you pathetic weakling—Yuri Holland.’
The instant he cursed himself, a vision unfurled before him.
The hundred-step expanse between him and the Sword Lord.
Illusions of people materialized in that barren void.
One, two, three...
The figures multiplied steadily until they filled the space enormously.
They all faced only the Sword Lord.
From Yuri's vantage, only their backs were visible.
Yuri knew who they were.
‘Those who sought Sword Throne usurpation.’
They were the countless challengers who had come before him to face the Sword Lord.
They advanced toward him.
Some stalled at a mere 90 steps.
Others at 60.
Some within 50.
Countless souls had pressed on, only for many to falter in despair.
Others still pushed forward.
And amid that illusory throng.
Leading them all, farther ahead than any, hobbled a one-legged dwarfish elder.
‘Johan Redner.’
Decades had passed since the era of Sword Throne usurpations began.
In all that time, none had drawn closer to the Sword Lord across those hundred steps than him.
‘Even that old codger Johan keeps struggling to reach him... and here I was fretting over *if* I could get there, without even trying.’
Pathetic to worry before even attempting.
Yuri cracked a faint smile.
He pierced his gaze into the distance.
Straight at the illusion of the dwarfish elder nearing the Sword Lord's side.
‘Old timer...’
The Sword Lord, wreathed in crimson aura like hellfire incarnate.
And the challenger's back, marching steadfastly onward even as his body burned away.
Yuri began to loosen up.
‘Hang on just a bit... I'll catch up quick.’
It shouldn't take long.
With that resolve, Yuri took his first step toward the Sword Lord.
Crack.
His foot hadn't even touched down, yet the pressure from all sides surged.
An aura like it would never permit him to advance.
But Yuri planted his foot silently.
Thud.
‘One.’
One step.
He'd covered a mere 70 cm or so, yet the pressure nearly doubled.
Yuri let out a dry chuckle.
‘Insane.’
This for just one step?
Then to close to striking distance—what pressure would that take?
His lips twisted under the body-crushing force.
‘Interesting.’
Yuri resolved himself.
He would test his limits here and now.
‘Let's see... how many steps can I pull off at my current level?’
Harboring that thought, he lifted his leg once more.
The pressure swelled again.
Crack.
Yuri straightened his spine, resisting the downward crush.
Then he stepped forward.
* * *
Huff... huff...
Gunther panted raggedly against the onslaught.
But the pressure offered no relief.
‘Mana...!’
Only after rousing the mana slumbering in his core and channeling it into his flesh did he regain his wits.
Thump.
A sound inches away snapped his head around.
There lay a cohort member who'd been crawling to endure until seconds ago—now sprawled limp.
No movement; passed out cold, it seemed.
Such scenes erupted all around Gunther.
Thump. Thump.
At the Hundred Steps Ceremony's outset, some had held on somehow.
Then those crawling on the ground succumbed, collapsing unconscious.
“Kh... hngh...!”
“H... hel...”
A little more time, and those bent half at the waist braced on their arms like the fainted before them.
Their state suggested they'd soon join the fallen.
Sifting and sorting.
In the end, only those upright on two feet remained.
A little over 30, by the look.
Not that any were unscathed.
Over half the thirty looked ghostly pale, on the verge of toppling.
Only a scant few stood steadily, strained but intact.
They had heard the test's directive to advance on the Sword Lord—yet none dared a single step.
Standing took all they had.
‘This is the Sword Lord's power...’
Facing the fabled might firsthand made its dread legend crystal clear.
‘Toppling hordes from afar with nothing but aura.’
Gunther couldn't help questioning.
Could *he* press toward the Sword Lord?
No—his mind already knew.
‘It's a test. I have to advance.’
But his body wouldn't budge.
Intellect recognized the trial, yet fear of the Sword Lord shackled his feet.
‘I have to move!’
As he chanted inwardly.
Step.
A faint footfall sounded.
It boomed like thunder in Gunther's ears.
His gaze swung instinctively toward it.
And he beheld.
Amid the fallen masses, one soul stepping forth alone—his profile.
‘That guy's...?’
Only profile visible, but that swaying black mane was achingly familiar.
‘It's him!’
The boy who'd clashed with him in the Black Line.
Gunther stared, mesmerized by the profile.
Nor was he alone.
Every last 50th Cohort member still standing gaped, entranced, at Yuri's profile on his first step.
And then.
Crack.
Thud.
Yuri nailed another step.
The second.
Two solitary strides while the rest stood idle.
Now the 50th saw not profile, but back.
That receding back rippled strangely through the watchers' hearts.
Gunther felt it too.
‘Why...’
Just two steps ahead.
A mere two-step lead.
“Why?”
Why does his back feel *that* distant?
Only two steps' difference!
That realization spurred Gunther.
‘...I won't lag behind.’
Scrape.
Gunther stepped forward.
And that sparked it.
Gunther Irons.
Poppi.
Arin Helga.
The three trailed Yuri, stepping out.
Others followed suit, chasing the trio.