The White Night Awakens
The one thing I had awakened to in this battle was a truth.
No matter how my skill ranked among Academy first-years—advanced, even outstanding—I was still far from the realm of the original Finn, barely reaching the tip of that pinnacle.
It turned out that the adage “a master does not blame his tools” did not apply to me.
With a subtle tilt of my eyes downward, I gazed at the sword dangling at my waist.
If I had been wielding something worthy rather than this shabby blade, I would never have faced such a crisis.
I could have prevented Lily from suffering a fatal blow.
I hold no regret that my skill has not yet reached the peak of Finn’s era, even if I had demanded more.
Objectively speaking, my level already placed me comfortably in the top three percent.
The sole source of lingering dissatisfaction was that I, this human, still could not shed every trace of complacency.
I lacked a weapon capable of truly unleashing the full potential of the abilities I possessed—something strong enough to chew through the fangs of even a Lycanthrope.
When considering the trials ahead, I realized I needed a weapon that could shatter a Lycanthrope’s fangs like paper with a single strike.
Therefore,
I did not refuse Lily’s offer to entrust me with all her rewards.
Compared to handing her an artifact capable of defending a single fatal injury, it was far more rational and safe to remove the threats that could inflict that injury before they struck her—provided I wielded the stronger weapon.
Tap.
Once the Principal entered a distant corridor, he suddenly began to weave magic.
Soon an opaque curtain unfolded around us, concealing everything within.
While I rolled my eyes in every direction to assess the situation, the Principal lifted one eye slightly and spoke.
“The Academy’s Treasury is, quite literally, a Treasury, isn’t it, Veri. Anyone with eyes can see the method of opening it, so why hide it away?”
“In other words, this is a device to prevent outsiders from knowing the path to the Treasury… is that what you mean?”
As if confirming my guess, the Principal’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“The reason I came to meet you personally instead of dispatching a secretary is simple. Moreover… the Treasury only allows two entrants, so I could not entrust such a heavy responsibility to a mere secretary.”
“I see… then it’s all right for me to witness the process with my own eyes?”
Though the conversation naturally led to this question, it was impossible.
Even in the original story, when Ian received permission to enter the Treasury, the Principal had personally cast the Disordered spell for one minute—sensory deprivation, known as Disorder.
And of course, the Principal had explained that I, too, would have to pass through that process.
“There will be no side effects.”
The Principal’s hand reached toward my head, and the world around me began to flicker like the phenomenon I had once experienced.
Disorder activated. Sensory deprivation maintained for 60 seconds. Proceed with caution.
I was sent once more into a world of utter darkness.
I had briefly wondered if I had been returned to the Treasury itself, but that was impossible.
One could not expect such an effect from a mere sense-blocking spell.
From the Principal’s voice echoing off the walls, I could infer the presence of an arched or domed ceiling even without seeing it.
When I opened my eyes, the corridors branched out into categories I could recognize.
How convenient a Treasury was.
I had imagined treasures piled like junk, yet the reality was entirely different.
At the center, we stood on a circular marble plaza resembling a square.
Extending from it were corridors composed of pitch-black basalt so numerous it was impossible to count.
Clockwise from the front: shield, bow, sword, spear, armor, artifact, staff… and so on.
Above each corridor’s entrance, thick Roman-font letters labeled the contents: shields, bows, swords, spears, armor, artifacts, staffs… all the weapons and treasures contained within that path.
I lifted my gaze to the Principal.
He stepped aside and, beside me, reached toward the corridor marked “SWORD.”
The gesture resembled a noble escorting a lady at a ball.
“…”
I narrowed my eyes without wanting to waste time pondering why an elderly man performed such an act toward another man, then walked silently toward the sword corridor.
Tap.
Upon stepping into the sword corridor, an air layer bore down on me like massive boulders.
Although I had braced myself after remembering the description from the story, I still felt my breath catch.
“This is clearly… the test to see whether I am worthy of handling them,” I had been told.
If this were Earth, I would have laughed at such nonsense.
But this was a fantasy world.
In a land where swords existed, these “Treasures”—swords themselves—were evidently too proud to be handled by anyone lacking self-awareness.
Conversely, it was like the sword having a fingerprint scanner.
Enduring the crushing pressure that felt as though it would tear my body apart, I took one step.
A cold sweat trickled down in tension and fell with a soft thud.
Then another step.
Once my entire body had endured the pressure and entered the corridor, the overwhelming weight that had threatened to devour me vanished without a trace.
“Congratulations on passing the first trial, Veri.”
Following me without a trace of surprise, the Principal entered the sword corridor.
Although I had personally endured the pressure moments ago, his casual demeanor puzzled me despite knowing why he felt no strain.
“Ah, I’m a magician, you see. From the beginning I never considered the swords capable of handling themselves, so I had no reason to test them. It’s a needless waste of stamina, isn’t it? Hahaha!!”
“Ah, yes…”
“Well… if I suddenly showed signs of wanting to lift them myself, they might have attacked like mad dogs.”
The Principal spoke with a cheerful laugh.
At that, I sighed and turned my head toward the inner part of the corridor.
I had no desire to chat further with him here.
Tap, tap.
After walking for about three minutes, a sword familiar even to my first eyes appeared in my view.
I halted briefly and examined it closely.
The Principal, following behind, began to explain.
It seemed he believed I found the blade pleasing.
“That sword is Durendal. It is said to be unbreakable and free of scratches. It has been so demanding that no one has ever wielded it… Go on, try it.”
“…No. I simply found its appearance interesting and wanted to see it once. I have no intention of wielding it.”
To be honest, the accurate expression was that I was never meant to handle that sword.
In the story, it was stated that only Ian could wield it.
I could never control a sword that only the most righteous man could handle.
Although the Principal had mentioned its other special abilities, which were quite attractive, the fact that I could not wield it placed it outside the scope of discussion.
“Hmm, then let us proceed further inward. Deeper in, more ancient artifacts will appear, and even more demanding weapons will emerge…”
“That’s fine. I don’t sense any particularly good weapons here.”
With that, I stepped forward again.
Soon, a sword greeted me warmly.
“…This sword.”
I had seen it before—the large, worn, and scarred greatsword the original owner of this body had carried when he was a Sword Saint.
“This sword is Solaris. It is said that when held by a qualified person, it reveals its true form… but this sword, like others of tragic fate, has never been wielded by anyone.”
A tragic sword.
Different from Durendal just now, Solaris was described with the additional title of tragic sword.
This was because, unlike Durendal, Solaris had not been called a legendary blade even before its master took hold.
“Mind if I try it?”
“You?”
The Principal looked at me with an expression that asked if I could.
Although the greatsword was large enough that, to my eyes, it seemed oversized for my frame, I could not refuse.
It was the most likely of all the swords I had seen to be within my grasp.
Out of precaution, in case I could not choose any of them.
“I’ll try it once.”
Placing my hand on the hilt, Solaris began to resonate with a deep, resonant hum.
“Oh…! It really resonates…? What’s going on, Veri?”
“No. I can’t hear it.”
Resonance was welcome. Until then, I had believed I could hear it.
But suddenly, as soon as I gripped the hilt with force, my power began to drain completely from my body, and soon all sensation left my palm.
“It rejected me ambiguously.”
I nodded in understanding, as the Principal’s disappointment and regret were evident in his tone.
I had thought it possible because I shared the same body, but even with his talent and experience passed on, the sword seemed to regard me as an entirely separate entity.
“Or perhaps the reason I cannot use Finn’s power anymore.”
During the journey here, I had repeatedly tested the process of wrapping mana around my muscles before losing consciousness—exactly as I had done previously.
Yet the result remained the same.
I confirmed that mana surrounded only my body, feet, and eyes, not my muscles.
“Well… no choice. Shall we look around a bit further inward?”
“Of course.”
Somewhat inexplicably leaving the familiar weapon behind, I stepped forward again.
A sword appeared before my eyes.
It was not one I had seen before.
I had never read the description of its appearance.
Yet I could not look away.
The sword possessed an incredibly strange shape and color.
“What exactly is that sword? It is white from tip to blade to hilt.”
“Ah… that sword is the White Night. It is the counterpart of the legendary Black Night, which has not yet been found, so only the White Night is currently stored here.”p>
A blade so thin it resembled a leaf in length, with a diamond embedded where the blade met the hilt.
The decorative lines harmoniously drawn across it were entirely in white tones—an impressive sword.
And in direct contrast, the Black Night, whose appearance was completely black.
The White Night, but I knew of the Black Night.
Or rather, I knew its capabilities completely, only lacking familiarity with its exact appearance.
Later, among the Demon antagonists, the one who wielded the Black Night would appear.
And in scenes where he bragged to his companions about searching for his counterpart sword, the White Night, that memory remained vivid.
“No matter what, I cannot carry a sword that matches the Demon’s.”
Thinking so, I tried to pass the White Night, but—
Uuuung—
The White Night suddenly emitted light and began to tilt toward me as if questioning why I was trying to pass it.
Just once, it seemed to urge me to hold it.
The White Night appealed to me with all its might, as if pleading, “Please take me.”
“Hoo… so the top student of the Knight Department has been chosen by the White Night. You must have lived a long and eventful life.”
As my gaze fixed on the White Night after being startled by its sudden appeal, the Principal, watching me, spoke with a mix of admiration and interest.