Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Hall of Trials
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"..."
The bright light of the portal startled his eyes, leaving them momentarily unfocused.
As time slowly passed and his pupils adjusted, the surrounding environment and objects gradually came into view.
Ian didn't rush. Only after his eyes had fully recovered from the fatigue did he begin to survey his surroundings.
"Is this the Hall of Trials?"
A stark, silent space. Directly in front of Ian, a gray haze shimmered ominously.
The Latent Dragon Squad members who had entered the portal ahead of him seemed to have been scattered far and wide—no sign of them anywhere.
They had probably been dispersed to various locations, each assigned trials suited to them.
"The Lichtenauer Martial Clan... The more I see, the more astonishing this family becomes."
Even recalling his days as Lucas before reincarnating into Ian's body, creating an environment like this was far beyond what an ordinary clan could achieve.
He had vaguely sensed it from the moment he received his weapon through the Weapon Orb at the Gate Opening Ceremony, but the Lichtenauer Martial Clan surpassed the level of any organization merely calling itself a 'clan.'
It wasn't just about the Patriarch's personal strength.
There were far too many facilities and secrets here that even small kingdoms rarely possessed.
The massive array of armaments he had seen during the Gate Opening Ceremony were impressive enough, but the Weapon Orb storing them was itself a priceless treasure of the highest order.
How many organizations on this continent could independently possess a sub-space of such scale?
This Hall of Trials was no different.
A ritual that scattered every challenger into separate spaces—what kind of advanced magic was at work here? Ian wasn't well-versed in magic, but he couldn't even begin to fathom it.
"Well, to protect the kingdom from the continent's sole forbidden zone, the Great Cataclysm... they need at least this much."
That made sense when he thought about it.
Looking back at Agena's long history, the periods of greatest technological advancement for nations had always been when the entire continent was swept up in the madness of war.
Facing enemies who struck with full force year-round right on their doorstep—it was no wonder they had advanced this far.
"...Even here, my past complacency is laid bare."
During his time as Lucas, after unifying the Northern Continent, he had thought they were progressing enough by absorbing the cultures and technologies of other continents.
He hadn't realized what a massive delusion that was.
It was woefully insufficient.
The three continents sharpening their blades while biding their time to strike him in the back would never have shared their core technologies with the Northern Continent.
And they must have continued developing relentlessly.
To devour the massive Northern Continent, Crohoka.
...Crunch!
It had been arrogance.
They had only accepted technologies the others deemed obsolete, yet he had deluded himself into thinking they led the world by embracing all continents' knowledge.
Unaware of the countless hidden powers lurking beneath Agena's surface.
Recalling those unpleasant memories, his grip tightened unconsciously.
"...Regretting it now is pointless. What's important is not repeating the same mistakes."
Anyone could make mistakes.
All he had to do was review his past shortcomings, adjust his future actions, and grow from them.
Ian decided to think positively.
In the end, the Lichtenauer Clan was just another group he would eventually place beneath his feet.
The stronger the clan, the higher his chances of successfully exacting bloody vengeance on the heroes of the other continents.
The gray space shimmered menacingly before Ian.
He cautiously took a step toward it.
Step!
And then...
"..."
Surprisingly, nothing happened.
At least, on the surface.
Most people would tense up at that first step, then relax in relief.
No symptoms, so they would assume it was just to obscure vision.
Bzzz!
But Ian instead circulated his Blood Demon True Qi, forming a membrane over his skin to block the air.
He had no choice.
From the hazy gray space at his feet, a colorless, odorless poison was slowly seeping upward.
Heat Shell poison.
A toxin released by the clams growing along the southern continent Bestrika's coast upon death. Prolonged exposure through the respiratory system caused paralysis.
Since it came from the gateway, it wasn't lethally potent, but it was one of the most troublesome poisons.
Its mild toxicity meant symptoms only appeared after the body was already thoroughly soaked in it.
And above all, with no color or smell, it was incredibly hard to detect.
"...Straight to the real deal from the start?"
The Hall of Trials imposed all sorts of variables on challengers.
The Heat Shell poison itself wouldn't kill.
But prolonged exposure could hinder movement enough to be a real nuisance.
This poison was surely meant to claim lives at critical moments—not through toxicity, but by paralyzing the body and preventing dodges from other attacks.
For him, who had mastered Blood Demon True Qi to instinctively block external threats, it was manageable. But for the squad members, detecting and countering it was nearly impossible.
If the trial was already this level...
"Maybe no one else will pass except me."
He had assumed it would be appropriately scaled since it was open to all clan warriors.
He hadn't expected such a vicious trap right from the beginning.
"...Guess I need to wrap this up quickly."
Vrrrrm!
With a hardened expression, Ian circulated his Blood Demon True Qi and rapidly pushed through the space.
He didn't want to witness the squad members dying pointless deaths.
But Ian didn't know.
The reason the Hall of Trials was open to all was that it gauged the challenger's mindset and thoughts, tailoring trials to overcome their limits and weaknesses.
In other words, the trials varied completely based on the challenger's level.
For Ian, who had failed to exert his full power in his previous life due to poison from his favorite concubine's carriage, poison had appeared.
Of course, even so, colorless and odorless poisons were exceedingly rare.
Ian had no way of knowing that now.
In the Lichtenauer Patriarch's hall.
From the highest throne in the audience chamber, Paon meditated with eyes closed, a gem resting on his palm.
Or rather, calling Paon's meditation mere 'meditation' felt inadequate.
Simply meditating couldn't explain the thick beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.
Unlike the serene air of the hall, maelstroms of mana churned endlessly within the gem he held.
The Imaginary Realm.
A special artifact from the Magic Tower, adapted from the Lichtenauer treasure Weapon Orb to manifest mental images physically.
It was necessary.
If a warrior of Paon Lichtenauer's caliber trained at full power, the clan's training grounds would be uprooted entirely.
How much time had passed?
Crack, crackle!
The Imaginary Realm on Paon's palm began to fracture slowly.
The small cracks gradually expanded.
Shatter!
Finally, the artifact crumbled to powder, scattering from Paon's hand to the hall floor.
Perhaps alerted by the sound, Nedyr entered the audience chamber from outside, assuming the training had ended.
Seeing the shattered Imaginary Realm, surprise flickered in Nedyr's eyes.
"Heavens, you've already brought him to his knees?"
Paon shook his head slowly with a dissatisfied expression at Nedyr's question.
"...No, another failure. I can suppress him with the sword now, but anything like chains, and I still can't match him."
Paon frowned at his own shortcomings, but Nedyr couldn't agree with such a harsh self-assessment.
He knew who had been manifested in the Imaginary Realm to face Paon—and suppressing even that with a sword alone was unbelievable.
'Truly becoming the master of all weapons.'
The world called Paon Lichtenauer, lord of the Martial Clan, the Father of Ten Thousand Paths or the Martial King out of respect.
But a select few knew.
That Paon was approaching true mastery over weapons.
Nedyr was one of those few.
'He's grown even stronger.'
Even if he seemed like a relic confined to the audience chamber, suppressing Great Cataclysm monsters.
In truth, Paon advanced a step every day.
Along with training to become the true master of all the world's weapons.
"It's still just parlor tricks."
"Heh heh, calling this power parlor tricks is practically deceiving Agena's warriors."
Nedyr looked incredulous at Paon's calm demeanor despite demonstrating a feat beyond magic, but Paon waved it off indifferently.
"Nedyr, if you've just come to chatter nonsense, head back. So, did you look into what I asked?"
Paon cut straight to the chase, and Nedyr shrugged.
"Heh heh, I did look into it... but with the Patriarch's eyes and ears everywhere in the clan, you'd know without me saying."
"Nedyr."
"My apologies. As you already know... rumors are flying that the Second Young Lord entered the Hall of Trials. And he dragged the entire Latent Dragon Squad in with him."
"The Hall of Trials..."
Interest began to flicker across Paon's bored expression.
"Huhu! Lately, Ian's moves have been so entertaining. You never know where he'll bounce next. Right?"
He didn't say it outright, but Nedyr caught the subtle excitement in Paon's tone.
Paon seemed thrilled that Ian had chosen the Hall of Trials to prepare for the match against the Crimson Squad.
'Well, can't blame him.'
The Hall of Trials was open to the entire Lichtenauer Martial Clan, but it wasn't a place everyone clamored to challenge.
Those vying for the next Patriarch position challenged it to prove themselves, but among regular warriors, challengers were exceedingly rare.
Much less leading an entire strike squad inside.
It had to be that way.
Proving oneself was a distant dream for regular warriors; what mattered to them was immediate pay and safety.
No one wanted to climb higher in the clan only to die a dog's death in a training facility.
Thus, the Hall of Trials was always deserted.
But it wasn't pointless stubbornness that made Paon and all past Patriarchs insist on keeping it.
They all knew.
Precisely because it was so dangerous, it could save lives in real combat.
Precisely because it was so grueling, it allowed one to surpass their limits and grow.
"These days' strike squad warriors just lack grit. They avoid risk and turn away, wondering why they can't rise higher."
"Considering most lower strike squads adopt the same approach as the Crimson Squad, it's not their fault, Patriarch."
Paon's brow furrowed at Nedyr's defense of the Crimson Squad.
"Tsk tsk! That's the problem. Adding the same effort to the same talent as everyone else—how do they expect to climb? How do they not grasp that simple truth?"
"Heh heh heh! If they did, they'd have climbed higher already, Patriarch."
"You're great in every way, but you always have to backtalk like this."
Paon clicked his tongue lightly and focused his intent on the spear on the floor.
Whoosh!
The spear floated up at his gaze and settled into the knightly ornament's hand.
"When the Crimson Squad and Latent Dragon Squad face off in a month, most clan warriors will change their minds. Realizing that avoiding and ignoring danger means no glory forever. Exciting, isn't it?"
"What would a magic hack like me know?"
"Talking to a passing dog would be less frustrating."
Thud, thud!
Steaming at Nedyr's words, Paon stood from the throne.
"No more questions?"
"Would you show interest in a game whose outcome is already decided?"
Paon spoke definitively, as if he already knew the result of the match that hadn't even begun.
"Well, I am a bit curious. Just what the Hall of Trials will look like before Ian, who took the Twin-Headed Blood Serpent."
Swish!
As Paon faded like mist from the audience chamber, Nedyr let out a small chuckle.
"Heh heh! So stubbornly dishonest."
The Martial Clan was one of Aslan Kingdom's pillars.
With the Great Cataclysm's three great forces and other groups stirring in earnest, for the kingdom's iron tower to remain unshaken...
A culture revering the strong regardless of status was inevitable.
In other words, in the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, even direct descendants weren't respected if weak.
But even the Hegemon was a father.
Separate from the clan's harsh traditions, how could he not take half-pleasure in his once-failing son striving for victory on his own terms?
It was obvious to Nedyr that Paon hid his feelings with blunt words.
But...
"No need to point it out to the Patriarch."
It was more fun that way.