Chapter 22. The Choice (1)

The second trial of the Tomb of Books and Swords concluded precisely three hours later.

The results were as follows.

The spectator stands had fallen silent.

This time, Kirian had submitted no fewer than three emblems, once again posting an overwhelming score.

They had no choice but to acknowledge his feats.

At the same time, the list of eliminations was posted.

Children who returned after the three-hour limit or had their emblems stolen by others.

The most striking was Decart's elimination.

He had received treatment from Kirian and barely managed to move again, but he hadn't secured any other emblems.

"The kid who took second in the first trial got completely knocked out."

"This is a real setback."

"We don't have many other options..."

The deans who had their eyes on Decart clicked their tongues.

They had marked him to bolster their swordsmanship specialists, so his anticlimactic exit left them visibly disconcerted.

The second trial had seemed easy enough to pass, making it all the more frustrating.

"Looks like he got taken down by another participant."

"Wonder what happened out on the outskirts."

"We need someone who can give us the details..."

Gazes shifted in unison.

Conveniently, someone who knew the full story was sitting not far away.

Bentin Corteo, head bowed in the guardian waiting area.

"That kid over there seems to have gone as Decart's guardian. Got summoned twice and came back."

"Let's call him up and ask directly."

But it was too late.

Rohbark had already flicked his fingertip.

An invisible force snapped Bentin's head around.

The iron-blooded warlock met his startled eyes and spat bluntly.

"Come up here and explain."

"Pardon...?"

"Do I need to say it twice?"

"N-no, my lord!"

Bentin scrambled up onto the platform.

Right after he wrung out the best explanation of his life and returned to his seat—

"What do you think?"

Rohbark muttered.

It was, of course, about Kirian and his performance.

Bastion beside him said nothing, but a voice drifted from the figure next to him.

"This is trouble."

Leonir's reply.

His face shrouded in his robe's hood, he let out a deep sigh.

"Looks like Bastion beat me to it."

"You made a hasty promise. Time to pay up."

"Father, it almost feels like you want me to be that kid's patron too. Am I imagining things?"

The promise: if Demiph's son took first in the tomb's ritual and the results pleased him, Leonir would extend a hand.

It was inching toward reality.

"Not a bad thing. Too good for Demiph to handle, isn't he? You don't have kids anyway—why not adopt the boy outright?"

"...Are you serious, Father? Putting him in the Extremism faction would stir up noise."

"That's not for you to worry about."

"So you mean it."

It was talk that would shock the bloodline if they heard.

Accusations of excessive favoritism toward Kirian might arise.

But Leonir shook his head and murmured.

"Garnas won't stand for it. If word gets out I'm his guardian, Garnas will go all out to crush the boy."

Garnas Kirchheis, Rohbark's second son.

A natural magic prodigy in Extremism, now known as the Seeker of the Abyss, building his renown.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He vied for supremacy with his elder brother Leonir, viewing each other as thorns in the side.

Even if Kirian joined Extremism, Garnas wouldn't let Leonir's sponsorship slide.

"If you want Kirian to grow smoothly, Father, send him to another faction."

Sincere advice.

But Rohbark smirked.

"I'll use him as my weapon. So I need to hammer him good and proper. Sharpening a blade always comes with pain, doesn't it?"

Openly treating him like a tool.

A voice so cold it was hard to believe it came from a grandfather.

Leonir recalled his own brutal childhood—and his siblings'.

Kirian was in for worse.

"...And if he breaks?"

"Foolish child—do smiths worry about the blade snapping before they even swing the hammer?"

"Father!"

"Quiet. Prepare to take him in and polish him up. That's your role now."

"..."

Leonir, who knew better than anyone that Rohbark didn't compromise, could only fall silent.

But moments later—

"I don't think I can lay that sword on your anvil, Father."

"Hah! Never seen anything like this..."

Leonir murmured calmly, while Rohbark scowled fiercely and rose.

Contrary to his plans, Extremism wouldn't claim Kirian.

The final third trial began.

The tomb's spirits announced the following:

In short: fight and win.

Among trials egging kids on to duel, this was the crowning pinnacle.

Holding a high rank let you pick weak foes— an advantage.

'But it means facing fully prepared opponents too, so no room for complacency.'

Fortunately, my stamina and mana were perfectly maintained.

With the ghosts judging as referees, no worries about biased calls.

True enough.

Already, several kids glared this way.

Fierce, burning eyes.

They wanted to hand me three losses somehow.

"1st place, Kirian Kirchheis..."

"Whom do you nominate...?"

The spirits fixed their gaze on me.

I glanced at Hierniorn.

'Gotta show overwhelming dominance here to make things easier, right?'

With potential back-to-back challengers, the dilemma was showing a skill gap while conserving energy.

I pondered whom to fight and how.

Then a voice cut in.

"Hold on, Kirian! Hear me out before you decide?!"

"...?"

A boy with tension etched on his face.

Lumil Kirchheis, who rose to second after Decart's elimination.

He hurried forward, glancing at the spectator stands before speaking.

"I've got a great idea. A way for all of us to pass this trial safely. What do you say?"

"All of us pass safely?"

"Yeah! There's one perfect way. Trust me."

Lumil tried to persuade me in a sly tone.

An idea flashed through my mind.

I spoke first.

"You're suggesting we all skip fighting and end the trial, right?"

"...!"

My guess hit home; Lumil's eyes wavered.

He hesitated, then nodded furiously.

"Exactly. We don't have to fight. It said no three losses—just not that we have to win. Draws keep our ranks and clear the trial!"

"..."

The boy's voice had its appeal; the kids swallowed hard, watching me.

Envy they couldn't hide, faint fear, taut tension, burning rivalry...

A mix of emotions.

Hierniorn clacked his beak amusedly.

Lumil pressed on similarly.

"Think about it. No downside for you. The kids below might regret missing a reversal shot?"

"..."

"But they figure ending it without risks ain't bad. Everyone's seen how amazing you are."

He spoke as if consensus was his.

No one rebelled, truly.

Only Mihaden at the back looked a bit grim.

Lumil rode the momentum.

"Plus, you'll get bonus points again. Like in round one forgiving Mihaden-bro—'goodwill and cooperation' style."

"..."

"I proposed it this time, but you're the decider, so you still score extra?"

He pulled out all stops to sway me; the kids awaited my verdict.

Ending without winners might count as a 'clever solution.'

But I smirked.

"'Never refuse a chance to spill blood.'"

"Huh? What?"

Lumil feigned ignorance, but I knew.

A deception ploy.

"Clever head you've got. Nice trap—baiting bonus points to slap me with deductions."

"Kirian, what are you—my offer's no trap..."

No need to hear more.

I pointed at him, declaring to the spirits.

"I challenge ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him. 2nd place, Lumil Kirchheis."

"Wait! Hey, Kirian!"

Lumil yelled in panic, but the tomb's ghosts ignored him.

They gestured with faint smiles.

"Tuck in those crown jewels."

"Wha—huh?!"

I charged at Lumil, eyes bulging in shock.

Sweet offer slashed in one stroke.

I knew a greater principle than the tomb's fine print existed.

One of the Kirchheis family ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rules.

A short phrase from Ulfrik five centuries back, enshrined as Kirchheis precept.

Don't shun fights, plain and simple.

It superseded the tomb's rules.

If my hunch was right, Lumil knew all and lured me deliberately.

'Blindly agreeing would've cost ~50 points deduction.'

A trap, then.

No magic, no sword—just a noose of three-inch tongue.

'Double it.'

Lumil's collar was already in my grip.

I dropped my hips, charging groundward.

A spell triggered simultaneously.

BOOM!

Lumil's body slamming into the floor echoed through the entire tomb.