Chapter 367: The Southern Tomb (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 367: The Southern Tomb (1)
The Warrior's Trial.
To trace its origins, one had to look far back into the annals of history. The initial spark of public interest stemmed from a single, compelling rumor.
"The Emperors of Valhalla are buried in the Southern Tomb. Recorded within are the insights of the great warriors who elevated Valhalla's glory. He who passes the Warrior's Trial shall inherit their greatest teachings."
The source of the rumor was unknown.
However, the world was thrown into a frenzy when it was revealed that the Warrior's Trial did indeed exist, and that countless treasures were buried alongside the Emperors of Valhalla in the Southern Tomb. Every warrior who had made a name for themselves flocked to the Southern Jungle. Declaring their intent to proudly conquer the Southern Tomb, they undertook the Warrior's Trial.
The result?
Most of the challengers met a gruesome end.
The first gate was a week-long gauntlet. Challengers fell to the endless onslaught of other warriors harboring the exact same ambition. No matter how strong a warrior was, there were no exceptions. Though they might stand tall and strike down their foes on the first day, they would rapidly crumble by the second.
It was an absurd battle of attrition.
Accepting endless challenges for an entire week was, in essence, a demand to fail.
Yet, on rare occasions, a select few endured the week.
Just as their hearts swelled with the hope of finally entering the Southern Tomb, the Dark Elves of the Southern Jungle would reveal themselves. They acted as the final gatekeepers. Bound by an ancient covenant with the Emperor who first created the Southern Tomb, they permitted absolutely no entry. The sole exception was a newly crowned Emperor, who was allowed a single visit upon taking the throne.
Everyone failed.
Those who surrendered and abandoned the trial were branded as cowards for the rest of their lives, while those who fought to the bitter end to preserve their warrior's pride could not escape death. Over time, public interest gradually waned. Realizing it was an unattainable goal, challengers simply ceased to appear.
Then, about a century ago, someone finally passed the trial.
Carlos, hailed as Valhalla's greatest swordsman, conquered even the final gate—the trial of the Dark Elves.
The world went wild.
The eyes of the entire continent were fixed upon him.
Everyone was eager to see what legendary treasures Carlos would bring back. But when he finally emerged, he looked utterly hollow. The great warrior who had roared so fiercely upon passing the trial was nowhere to be found. With a gaunt, haunted face, Carlos spoke to the expectant crowd:
"The insights you desire do not exist here. In the Southern Tomb, there lies only the shameful history of Valhalla."
From that day on, the public lost interest.
There was no longer any reason to risk life and limb to enter the Southern Tomb.
A long time had passed since then. But now, because of Roman Dmitry, Valhalla's ancient tradition was once again on everyone's lips.
* * *
Following the declaration, the Warrior's Trial was scheduled for ten days later.
During that time, Roman Dmitry returned to his kingdom to regroup, while Duke Vieto went through the formal procedures to ascend the throne as Valhalla's new Emperor. It was a period of monumental change. Those who had initially babbled about Valhalla's new future shifted their immense focus entirely onto Roman Dmitry as the scheduled date drew near.
In the pubs of Valhalla, whenever people gathered, the topic of conversation was always the same: Roman Dmitry.
"...Do you think Roman Dmitry can actually pass the Warrior's Trial?"
"He'll pass it, without a doubt. Roman Dmitry is the First Sword of the Continent. The prevailing opinion is that even Castro of Kronos couldn't defeat him. If not him, then who on earth could possibly pass the Warrior's Trial?"
"True. He's the one who single-handedly laid waste to Valhalla's capital. There's absolutely no questioning his martial prowess."
Everyone acknowledged it.
Roman Dmitry was a peerless warrior.
He was rewriting the history of the continent, and people openly stated that the very standard for Aura Swordsmen had been divided into two eras: before and after Roman Dmitry. Just as Emperor Alexander had brought about the Swordsmanship Revolution in the past, Roman was now revered as a symbolic existence. If not him, there seemed to be no living Aura Knight capable of passing the trial.
However, not everyone was entirely optimistic.
"I admit Roman Dmitry is strong. The problem is the final gate of the Dark Elves. His overwhelming strength might actually hold him back there. It's not a trial you can pass simply by being strong. So, let's wait and see—whether Roman Dmitry writes a new history, or gets buried in the annals of the past."
Attention reached a fever pitch.
But while many showed pure interest in the challenge itself, there were just as many who held a different view entirely.
"No matter how I think about it, isn't this going too far? Roman Dmitry being a great warrior? I acknowledge that. He defeated Barbosa at Valhalla's festival, laid waste to Marin with his overwhelming martial power, and helped Duke Vieto lead the rebellion. He is a man who deserves the respect of the Valhallan people. But that doesn't make him one of us. He is strictly a foreigner, and I don't like the idea of an outsider rewriting Valhalla's history."
"I agree. Carlos said that a shameful history is recorded in the Southern Tomb. It bothers me that an outsider would uncover that truth. Above all, if Roman Dmitry actually passes the Warrior's Trial, the last name recorded in Valhalla's history won't be the great warrior Carlos, but Roman Dmitry."
Their respect for his strength was one thing, but this was another matter entirely.
Pure-bloodism.
The fact that he was an outsider rubbed them the wrong way.
As time passed, this sentiment grew stronger. At some point, the people began to say in unison:
"We must stop Roman Dmitry from passing at all costs."
This was a matter of pride for Valhalla—a nation with a long, bloody history, hailed across the continent as the land of warriors.
* * *
The day of the decisive battle finally dawned.
The Southern Jungle.
Deep within the densely overgrown foliage, there was a wide clearing known as the stage of the trial.
It was not a space artificially cleared by logging.
As if gifted by nature itself, the clearing had formed naturally and had been used for generations to host Valhalla's traditional events. This was the venue. At the rumor of the Warrior's Trial taking place, crowds gathered from all over Valhalla, packing the area around the stage so tightly that there was barely room to step.
The level of interest was immense.
Duke Vieto looked around.
No—the new Emperor of Valhalla marveled at the sight.
This is how thirsty they were for a true challenge.
In recent years, Valhalla had lost its romance.
Reckless challenges had become objects of ridicule, and traditions like the Warrior's Trial remained only as dusty history. Yet, for the first time in a very long while, an event that made the blood of warriors boil had been prepared. The people of Valhalla had cast aside their livelihoods and traveled vast distances, overflowing with anticipation.
This was an opportunity.
With Valhalla's romantic spirit reviving, the Emperor could not let this chance slip by.
Roman Dmitry is Valhalla's benefactor. However, I cannot simply stand by and watch Valhalla's tradition fall for his sake. Since everyone in the Empire acknowledges Roman Dmitry's supreme strength, if he is brought to his knees by Valhalla's tradition, it will serve as the perfect spark to reignite Valhalla's aspirations.
Valhalla had recently gone through difficult times.
Its pride as a nation of warriors had hit rock bottom, and it would take ample time to reclaim its past glory.
But what if, at this very moment, they managed to defeat Roman Dmitry?
Since passing the trial was an achievement only a single warrior in Valhalla's history had ever accomplished, defeating the First Sword of the Continent would make the people realize just how great of a foundation their country possessed. It was truly the best-case scenario. Since those who cried out for the romance of the sword had led the rebellion, Valhalla could rebound with just a tiny spark.
Roman Dmitry had said that expressions of gratitude were enough.
Since they had fulfilled their mutual transaction, the Emperor had no intention of showing any leniency for his benefactor from this point on.
Of course, he didn't even have the luxury to do so.
Defeating Roman Dmitry was a monumental task that required Valhalla to exert its absolute full strength.
The time had come.
Under the watchful eyes of tens of thousands, Roman Dmitry stepped onto the stage. The Emperor of Valhalla shouted:
"The rules of the trial are simple! For the next week, Roman Dmitry, who has accepted the trial, will take on all of Valhalla's challenges! Whether individually or in groups, challenges will be freely made for exactly one week! If he passes all of these trials, the Dark Elves will conduct the final test to determine if he is worthy of entering the Southern Tomb!"
Excitement flared intensely.
The eyes of the crowd flickered with burning desire.
Finally, the Emperor roared:
"Let those who wish to challenge step forward and declare their identity!"
The stage of the trial had raised its curtain.
* * *
No one challenged in groups on the very first day.
Valhalla was a nation of warriors.
It was an unspoken rule to clash one-on-one for as long as possible. At the Emperor's declaration, a man boldly stepped onto the stage. The crowd murmured in shock. He was a highly renowned figure, and no one expected someone of his caliber to step up right from the start.
Valhalla's Rank 10.
Valderas.
As a close confidant of the Emperor of Valhalla, he was a top-tier powerhouse who had joined the rebel forces early on to help bring down Hernad.
Looking at Roman Dmitry, he spoke.
"It is truly an honor to face you, Lord Roman Dmitry."
It was no mere formality.
Valderas genuinely respected Roman.
Having been part of a rebel army pushed to the brink of annihilation, he knew all too well the absurd achievements Roman Dmitry had accomplished. Even now, if Roman Dmitry asked for anything, he was willing to grant it.
However, this matter was different.
Roman had not asked him to yield, and like the others, Valderas could not simply let Valhalla's proud tradition crumble.
Schwing.
Instead of an answer, Roman Dmitry raised his sword.
At this action, which drew a clear line between them, Valderas took his stance with a tense expression.
With my skills, defeating Roman Dmitry is impossible.
He faced reality.
If he dared to aim for victory with skills that couldn't even defeat Ares, he would suffer a miserable defeat and bring shame upon Valhalla's honor. Knowing this, he had still volunteered to be the vanguard. When Roman Dmitry declared his intention to take the Warrior's Trial, Valderas had already decided what role he needed to play.
Roman Dmitry is an overwhelmingly powerful expert. Judging by his past actions and the sheer strength I have personally witnessed, he is more than capable of enduring a week. Therefore, my goal is not victory. My objective is to wear down his stamina as much as possible so that the experts who follow can defeat him.
Squeeze.
He gripped his sword tightly.
It was not a preposterous plan.
He had thoroughly analyzed Roman Dmitry.
For the past ten days, he had undergone closed-door training, devising a strategy to hold out for even just one more minute.
I can do this.
Though he couldn't compare to his monstrous opponent, Valderas was still a formidable expert who shone brightly at Rank 10 in Valhalla.
The Emperor of Valhalla personally acted as the referee.
The moment he gave the signal—
Whoosh!
Tap.
Rumble!
Valderas exploded his Aura.
His plan was to quickly back away first, baiting Roman Dmitry into making the first move.
However—
Whoosh.
"...?!"
Right in front of him, Roman Dmitry had already closed the distance.
His judgment was swift.
Knowing that Roman Dmitry usually preferred frontal assaults, Valderas gritted his teeth and blocked the anticipated path of attack.
Or rather, he thought he had blocked it.
Thwack!
Valderas staggered.
By the time he registered reality, he had already been struck on the back of the neck and was planted face-down in the dirt.
* * *
There was no cheering.
Everyone was completely speechless.
Ten seconds?
No.
It hadn't even taken five seconds.
In the blink of an eye after the Emperor gave the signal, Valderas was thrown to the ground, entirely motionless.
Minds were thrown into utter chaos.
How on earth could such a thing happen?
No one present doubted Roman Dmitry's strength.
But while they acknowledged his might, they never imagined that a figure like Valderas would fail to hold out for even a few seconds. Furthermore, Valderas had openly taken a defensive stance. His movement to retreat rather than charge proved that he had stood at the vanguard for the greater cause of stalling.
And yet, he had been utterly defeated.
Roman hadn't even killed him.
It was a show of Roman Dmitry's consideration, and at the same time, terrifying proof that he possessed more than enough leeway in this fight.
It was then.
For the first time in a long while, Roman Dmitry uttered a familiar word.
"Next."
That single word... viciously stung Valhalla's pride.