Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Tower of Trials
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“Hah!”
“Tchah!”
It had been a full week since the Crimson Thread Squad challenged the Latent Dragon Squad to a duel.
A quarter of the time until the duel date had already passed, but the shouts echoing through the Crimson Thread Squad's training grounds were no different from usual.
Disrupting their routine over something like a duel would be foolish.
Sudden changes in environment inevitably strain the body.
And if they pushed too hard out of pointless ambition and got injured, what could be more idiotic than that?
The Crimson Thread Squad's warriors always trained at set times, following their fixed regimen.
The squad pursued steady, reliable growth, even if it was slower.
Stable progress provided the foundation to handle unexpected situations during missions.
That was the belief and philosophy of their captain, Heto.
“Captain.”
Swoosh!
The deputy commander approached Heto as he oversaw the squad's training.
Without taking his eyes off the members, Heto asked calmly.
“What were they up to?”
“No need to check. Those idiots apparently went into the Tower of Trials.”
Pfft!
Heto couldn't help but smirk at the deputy commander's scoffing report.
“Foolish bunch. They'll overreach trying to win and end up destroying themselves.”
Heto was absolutely confident of victory in this match.
The Crimson Thread Squad consisted entirely of young warriors aged 18 to 25—a strike team in their prime.
A few years later, when their bodies fully matured, it might be different, but in their late teens to early twenties, even a single year's difference created a massive gap in realm and physical growth.
In fact, most of the Crimson Thread Squad had already broken through the novice Expert wall.
It wasn't bad compared to the clan as a whole, but it was solidly average—nothing overwhelming or exceptional.
That was precisely the Crimson Thread Squad's level.
Judging coldly what we can and can't do, tackling them one by one. Earning recognition from our superiors and claiming our share of the rewards. That's the only path for ordinary folks like us to rise as high as possible.
Heto had accepted reality early on.
Not everyone could live a chosen life like those in the martial clan or the three great vassal families.
No—in fact, most people in this world were ordinary.
For the vast majority without exceptional talent, the best path was to spend long years honing their mediocre gifts into something sharp.
But did that mean ordinary warriors had no pride?
Even the common folk had their own brand of dignity.
No matter their backing, the Latent Dragon Squad were still unbloomed buds at 17 or younger.
Losing to flowers that hadn't even blossomed? Better to abandon any thought of surviving as the clan's strike team.
“Arrogant whelps who think one lucky mission success makes them sky-high. I'll teach them loud and clear that luck doesn't strike twice in a row.”
He absolutely refused to become mere extras for flashy talents.
Or maybe I don't even need to bother.
If the Latent Dragon Squad had chosen the desperate gamble of the Tower of Trials as the deputy said, they might not even show up in fighting shape.
It wasn't some easy place an unprepared challenger could just conquer.
Four days earlier.
Unlike the Crimson Thread Squad, who trained relentlessly in their grounds every day since the duel was set, Ian had waited three days before heading out with the Latent Dragon Squad—not to the training grounds, but elsewhere.
He'd needed that time to prepare gear for himself and the squad.
“C-Captain. Where... where are we headed?”
Helena broke the heavy silence, anxiety mounting as Ian led them deeper into the clan territory.
“Oh, nothing major. I just asked the steward Hans for the best spot in the clan to get strong fast.”
Ian recalled his conversation with Hans three days prior.
—The training grounds?
—Yeah. Not the ones restricted to direct lines or elites—somewhere open to the entire clan.
—Hmm. As a direct descendant, Young Master, most private halls and secret grounds are open to you anyway... Why specify?
—I've got my reasons. Just tell me.
—Hmm, open to all... Ah.
Hans stroked his chin thoughtfully before snapping his fingers.
—One place comes to mind. It's a bit—very slightly—dangerous, so it's not popular... but its effects are guaranteed. If you want it, I'll file the request right away.
—Good. Make it available starting tomorrow?
—Tight timeline, but since it's unpopular, it should be fine. Consider it done.
There was no reason to refuse Hans's eager help.
“Wait—if we keep going this way and hit a training ground... You don't mean...?”
Perhaps sensing doom from the increasingly deserted path.
Or maybe he'd caught on.
Ralph Kalia's face drained of color.
True to form as the squad member most versed in clan rumors.
“Yeah, exactly.”
Ian met Ralph's trembling eyes and answered clearly.
“The Tower of Trials.”
At Ian's words, not just Ralph—the entire squad's eyes shook wildly.
...Gulp!
Even the steadiest, Ryu An Pallkion, swallowed dryly before asking Ian.
“...You planning to kill us all?”
Ryu An's question underscored that Ian's chosen spot was anything but ordinary.
The Tower of Trials.
Open to anyone in the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, regardless of rank or status—a training facility.
Ambush, traps, raids, surprise attacks, poison, melees...
Designed to hone skills against every conceivable real-battle scenario, it could rapidly boost a challenger's prowess.
But if it were only “slightly” dangerous as Hans said, the squad's faces wouldn't have paled like this.
Nor would it lack popularity.
No one would pass up a place that supercharged their growth.
Yet the Tower of Trials stood deserted despite its massive benefits.
Because the risk of crippling injury far outpaced any gains.
Countless warriors had entered its brutal, real-combat-plus intensity and emerged half-crippled.
Many retainers had petitioned successive patriarchs to close or nerf it over the generations.
But every patriarch gave the same reply.
—Only those prepared to lose everything can truly seize strength—and what they desire. If you lack that resolve, just don't use it.
Perhaps due to the patriarchs' unwavering stance.
Despite producing hordes of casualties, the Tower endured unbroken.
Yet striving to grow meant nothing if you self-destructed.
Despite open access to all warriors, it became a haunt for only the desperately ambition-driven or the rare few proving their talent.
“Kill you?!”
Ian spun toward his quivering squad.
His face was stone-cold.
“Your talents aren't bad, true. But put your hand on your heart... Are they really on par with the stars vying for the clan?”
“...!!”
No one answered readily.
Ralph's brother Manus Kalia, Ryu An's formidable siblings from the Pallkion Sword Clan.
The next-gen sage or saintess candidates from the magic towers and temples.
Just those springing to mind exceeded ten fingers.
This era brimmed with overflowing talent.
“You don't even stack up against them. Against the Crimson Thread Squad—who are just three to five years ahead—you need caution? That's how ordinary your talents are.”
The noses they'd haughtily raised slaying Red Fang Orcs were now thoroughly crushed.
“One successful first mission. I get the excitement... But that'll make further progress impossible forever.”
His harsh critique continued as they reached the Tower's entrance.
Dust blanketed the long-unturned doorknob.
Fwoosh!
Ian blew it off and gripped the knob.
Clunk!
Gears ground as the door slowly creaked open.
A sinisterly glowing portal hovered in the threshold.
“Treading the same ordinary path yields ordinary strength. You won't reach your ultimate goals that way.”
“...”
He didn't know their exact aims.
But one thing was clear.
If their goals were ordinary, they wouldn't have been clan rejects.
The gap between reality and ideals—that sense of deprivation—had fueled their rebellion and wild ways.
“Decide now. From here, stake your lives to grow with me? Or settle as ordinary clan warriors?”
Silence stretched.
...Step!
First to move under Ian's pressing voice was Ryu An.
“...Yeah. Gotta prove it to Father and my brothers.”
That swords weren't the king of weapons—that only the strongest warrior reigned.
With his chosen blade at his side.
Stepping forward, Ryu An continued.
“My brothers all cleared the Tower. No reason I can't. I'll challenge it.”
Following Ryu An, Sylvia Clonen, Helena, and Dane steeled themselves and advanced haltingly.
“...Damn it. How'd I end up in this mess.”
Last, Ralph scratched his head furiously, sighed, and stepped up.
All had given the answers Ian wanted.
A satisfied smile on his face, Ian approached Ryu An slowly.
Expecting a pre-challenge hug of encouragement?
Ryu An, at the front, moved to embrace his captain.
...Click!
“...Huh?”
A strange tightness gripped his waist, drawing his gaze down.
Ryu An's eyes widened.
“C-Captain. This is...?”
“Ah, no big deal.”
Ian grinned, having fitted him with what looked very much like a big deal.
“Just a 30kg iron orb. Training's gotta be tough to count. Good luck.”
“W-Wai—!!”
Thwack!
A kick to the rear sent Ryu An sucked straight into the portal.
“...!!”
The squad, watching every bit, instinctively stepped back.
“You all said yes, so you're committed, right? Next... Dane?”
“Th-This ain't right.”
“It is right, Dane.”
“U-Uwaaaah!”
Under Ian's tyranny(?), the squad vanished one by one into the portal.
Ralph, screaming and resisting to the end, was the last shoved in.
Only Ian remained.
“Alright. Guess I'll prep too.”
Click, click, click, click, click!
Arms, legs, waist.
Not a gap left—he layered iron orbs meticulously.
Far thicker than the squad's.
Ian, whose stamina was his weakest stat even without the Solar Meridian Blockage, was chaining himself further for the already brutal Tower.
Others might call it recklessness or madness, but Ian's eyes gleamed with long-missed challenge.
With Blood Demon Iron Chain Art slowly countering the blockage, and Aura Pill granting ample aura.
Training like this—“just like now”—could elevate him to the elite.
But.
That won't catch those guys.
Siegfried, Kaidu, Cassandra.
All continent-shakers whose names etched history.
Catch them with ordinary training? In what lifetime?
Thus, Ian pushed himself to the absolute limit.
But solo strength meant nothing.
Even the greatest hegemon needed limbs to wield.
Without them, he'd meet the same end as his past-life Lucas on the Kairon Plains.
You all need to grow too. Into my reliable arms and legs.
That's why he chose a training ground open to all.
Proven results here would subtly shift how other squads viewed them.
“Crimson Thread Squad, you did me a real favor.”
He'd been pondering squad training post-quick mission.
And these snakes handed him perfect justification.
“I'll devour you.”
For one hegemon to rise, countless others had to be crushed.
The Crimson Thread Squad would be the starting point on that path.
The spark of the storm the Latent Dragon Squad would unleash in the clan.
Whoosh!
With Ian leaping into the portal last, the Tower of Trials fell silent once more.
Whether Ian's choice was right or wrong.
The duel with the Crimson Thread Squad in a month would reveal.