A Feast and a Flash of Steel
Some time after Haru and Teraden’s tests began.
Leaving the rest of the group behind as they entered their respective testing grounds one by one, Blanser stepped through the door ahead of him and found himself in a room so narrow that the distance from the entrance to the opposite wall was less than a single jang.
The room was cramped lengthwise, yet surprisingly spacious widthwise. A single dining table occupied nearly the entire space, creating an oddly shaped chamber.
What the hell is this?
Before the table, laden with an extravagant spread of radiant delicacies that looked ready to buckle the legs at any moment, sat a massive man who appeared to be the examiner. He was completely absorbed in his meal, as though Blanser didn’t exist.
Blanser’s eyebrow twitched as he watched the man.
“Hey. What about the test?”
Slurp. Slurp-slurp. Munch-munch-munch-munch.
The man’s chopsticks never paused despite Blanser’s question.
“…”
Ah, this is deflating. The others looked like they were having fun.
Anyone else might have flown into a rage at being ignored, but Blanser remained utterly indifferent. Instead, he listened to the clock ticking in his stomach.
After yesterday’s banquet celebrating Jubern, he had even swiped the chocolate Maru had saved for last, yet here he was already hungry again. Unlike the others, he had eaten breakfast early before leaving the National Academy, but at his age—when he could chew through steel—he was in the middle of a growth spurt. His stomach was staging a full-blown riot, demanding more food immediately.
No response, huh. So this is the test? Well, I was hungry anyway. Perfect timing.
Blanser placed a hand on his stomach, then silently took a seat across from Man-go without waiting for permission. Before the man could even grant it, he began shoveling food into his mouth with reckless abandon.
Blanser’s two greatest loves were fighting and eating. Even if this led to a brawl with Man-go, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
Man-go flinched inwardly at Blanser’s sudden action, but quickly resumed moving his chopsticks at a frantic pace.
Is this really allowed?
As Man-go buried his face in his bowl and devoured its contents with divine chopstick work, he recalled the conversation he had with Jeongmyeong, the 4th Danju, before the test began.
“Listen, Man-go. There’s something I need to tell you… Are you even listening right now?”
“Yes, I’m listening, Jeongmyeong 4th Danju.”
“You’ve been assigned to examine the Grand Duke’s son. It’s nothing complicated. Just waste some time and then pass him. This has already been approved by my master—no, by the Chairman himself.”
“Excuse me? Are you sure that’s acceptable?”
“The first gate is merely a formality anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Besides, your test is nothing more than eating nonstop until you decide to stop. He’ll pass easily regardless.”
“Understood. I’ll do as you say.”
“Hoo.”
Clack.
Man-go quietly set down his empty bowl and reached for the next one with grim determination.
Still, I should at least test whether he possesses the bare minimum qualifications to become a Danju—in my own way.
Just as the awkward shared meal between the complete strangers Blanser and Man-go began, in the room next door—
“Ah, welcome. I’m Cheongseol, the 6th Danju…”
“Yes, it’s a pleasure.”
“You’re the successor to Duke Amerk, aren’t you…? The one who holds the Ouparts of Earth, the relic left behind by the Seven Stars… I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
“It seems you’re not human, but a member of the Dwarf race from the Floating Continent, 6th Danju. I’ve been interested in the Dwarves myself.”
“Oh my, you’re interested in me…?”
“No, not you personally…”
Junior and Cheongseol, the 6th Danju, were also beginning their test.
* * *
Smack!
“Guh!”
Teraden was struck squarely in the face by the blunt end of a staff. The impact forced a pained groan from him as he was sent skidding violently across the dirt.
Ow, I can’t even breathe after getting hit that hard. My head’s spinning.
“…”
Feygal stared at the staff, which was beginning to crumble from the tip as though weathered by time, then tossed it aside without a second thought. The moment it hit the ground, it shattered into countless fragments.
With his hands empty once more, Feygal immediately slid his right hand back into his left palm.
“Tch.”
Teraden clicked his tongue at the sight.
Now what kind of weird weapon is coming out? Just thinking about it makes my teeth ache.
Hundreds of shattered weapons lay scattered around them, turning the area into a battlefield—save for the absence of corpses. These were all the weapons Feygal had used against Teraden. He wielded not only common arms like swords, blades, staves, spears, crescent blades, hammers, axes, gauntlets, and clubs, but also chain sickles, whips, throwing weapons, traps, nets, and even cannons with masterful skill.
Yet because Teraden’s body was far from ordinary, he had endured countless attacks while hundreds of weapons broke without suffering major injuries.
When Feygal’s right hand emerged again, it held a long cylinder with a large hole in the center.
Teraden shook his head to clear it, then reflexively threw himself aside the instant he saw the cylinder.
Boom—!!
The moment Teraden hit the ground and rolled, the cylinder in Feygal’s left palm erupted with a thunderous roar, reducing the spot where Teraden had stood to scorched earth.
Having already been badly burned by cannon fire once, Teraden had dodged perfectly this time. He stared at the blackened crater and forced his racing heart to calm.
“Oh, your reaction time is decent. Your judgment isn’t bad either.”
“What the hell is that Vienna sausage? Why does stuff keep popping out one after another?”
Both men faced each other with feigned nonchalance, yet inwardly they were impressed.
Bright Light, huh. No wonder he was so confident. Seeing it in action, it really is absurd. Most weapons don’t even scratch him. Is he immune to blades or something?
He said the subspace is one jang in each dimension, right? This is ridiculous. How many weapons is he carrying?
“You’re definitely different from the other applicants I’ve seen so far.”
“Compared to what I expected, this is way too boring. I thought you were giving me a massage instead of fighting. At this rate, the Danju might change hands today, don’t you think?”
“Pfft! Look at you, all beaten up and still talking big. Wipe the blood off your face before you speak. And don’t tell me you actually thought I was going all out until now?”
“Oh, really? That’s a relief.”
Bright Light combined with that ridiculously tough body unique to his clan. Together, they let him chew through most attacks without a care. I might need to get a little serious.
He’s clearly a cut above me in physical ability and combat experience. I need to break all his weapons or force him into hand-to-hand combat and look for an opening… but where’s the gap…?
As Teraden pondered Feygal’s weakness, the corner of his mouth curled into a sly grin.
Whoosh—!!
Dozens of Bright Lights suddenly surrounded Feygal and Teraden without warning.
“I told you, that won’t work.”
Feygal let out a hollow laugh and was about to store the cannon in his subspace when—
“Huh?”
The spinning Bright Lights vanished into thin air as if they had never existed.
Now!
Seizing the moment Feygal hesitated, Teraden kicked off the ground and shot toward him at terrifying speed. This was the only instant Feygal ever showed an opening—when he stored or retrieved a weapon and both hands became defenseless.
Teraden refused to miss the moment the cannon was sucked back into the subspace.
Not bad.
Teraden had assumed that without weapons, Feygal would be easy to overpower bare-handed, but the man was no pushover. Even empty-handed, Feygal blocked Teraden’s Bright Light-clad attacks with minimal damage.
“What? I thought you couldn’t do anything without weapons, but your fists aren’t half bad either.”
“I never said I was bad at hand-to-hand. That aside, are you really from the same clan as him?”
“…What?”
Teraden’s brow furrowed at Feygal’s cryptic words.
“Let me tell you something interesting. Two years ago, all six of us Danjus were defeated by the current 6th Seat. All at once.”
“The 6th Seat… You mean Jaksan?”
“We, who thought we were invincible, learned then that there are walls that can never be crossed. That there are those who soar above those who run.”
“So what? What’s your point?”
“Yet I don’t see that in you. I’ll admit you have talent, but you’re not overwhelmingly superior like he is.”
Feygal had deliberately provoked Teraden to gauge his full strength.
“…This is pissing me off. Hey, I’m not losing to you even if it kills me.”
“Oh? And if you lose?”
“I’ll quit being a Danju.”
Hmm. His raw power is more than enough to pass, but it’s a shame he falls for such petty provocations so easily.
Sensing the shift in Teraden’s mood, Feygal drew a sword.
“No matter what, nothing feels better in my hand than a sword. One of the greatest perks of being a Danju is receiving instruction from the Seven Pillars.”
The black sword Feygal drew this time was different from the ordinary blades Teraden had shattered countless times. It was a masterpiece, radiating the refined craftsmanship and lethal sharpness of a true artisan’s work.
“It won’t reach even his feet, but I’ll show you the sword techniques I learned from the Sword Saint himself. Consider it an honor. You’re the first applicant I’ve shown this to.”
“Fine. Let’s take this all the way.”
Shing. Click.
Feygal slowly drew the blade, inspected its edge once, then sheathed it again and brought it to his waist. Crouching low, he began gathering his strength into a single point.
…A drawing technique? Sword Saint’s techniques or whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just break it.
Whoosh—!!
As Feygal gathered power, Teraden condensed his Bright Light as well. But this time, the manifestation was different.
Countless thread-like strands of Bright Light writhed like tangled yarn, flooding the area.
“Kgh, ugh…!”
The intense light was so blinding that Feygal closed his eyes and relied on senses other than sight.
Finally, Teraden kicked off the ground with all his might and launched himself forward. The moment he closed the distance—
“Youngcheon Sword, First Form.”
Shhhk—!!
The sword shot from Feygal’s grip.
“Reverse Heaven.”