Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Gate Opening Ceremony
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With the permission of Paon, the master of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, the atmosphere in the audience chamber began to shift dramatically.
Thud, thud!
Following behind Paon Lichtenauer into the audience chamber, an elderly mage with a venerable air walked up to Ian.
"Heh heh! Then, let us now commence the Gate Opening Ceremony for Ian Lichtenauer. Ian Lichtenauer, step forward."
At the old mage's words, Ian obediently straightened his posture and walked up to the mage.
Swoosh!
The old mage drew a red gemstone from within his robe.
Placing the gemstone, which radiated an extraordinary aura even at a glance, against Ian's forehead, the old mage spoke.
"Very well, Ian Lichtenauer. As a scion of the Martial Clan, may you find the perfect companion to walk alongside you."
With those enigmatic words from the old mage, the space where Ian stood began to warp.
Flash!
Soon, light poured from the gemstone, filling the entire audience chamber.
As the light slowly faded, Ian, who had been standing in the center moments before, had vanished completely.
All that remained in his place was the old mage and the red gemstone he held.
Yet, as this was a familiar sight to everyone, no one showed any curiosity about Ian's disappearance.
Paon was no exception.
"Nedyr, project the Weapon Orb so all can see."
"As the Patriarch commands."
At Paon's words, the old mage, Nedyr, raised his staff and channeled mana toward the gemstone.
Vwoooom!
Resonating with Nedyr's mana, the gemstone slowly floated into the air, expanding to a massive size.
The gemstone grew as vast as a castle wall. Soon, it rippled transparently, beginning to reflect someone's image.
The one reflected in the gemstone was none other than Ian.
Transferred to the warped space amid the light, Ian.
'Ha, look at these guys. They're the real deal.'
Rather than panic, he let out a gasp of admiration.
A space rippling entirely with red light on all sides.
No one would mistake it for a naturally occurring place.
In other words, the magic unleashed by the mage's gemstone wasn't a simple spatial transfer like teleportation.
The space Ian now occupied was one created by the pinnacle magic known as an Intrinsic Barrier.
A supreme spell that only the masters of the Mage Tower—one of the two great power blocs dividing the Southern Continent, Bestrika—could wield.
Who could have guessed that such an artifact containing that magic would be held not by a vast empire, but by a single kingdom's clan?
'Well, considering the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's stature on the Southern Continent... it's not all that surprising.'
Regardless of what anyone said, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan was one of the two absolute pillars symbolizing Aslan Kingdom's martial might.
It wouldn't be strange if the other pillar, the Mage Tower, had gifted them one as a token of friendship.
Swoosh!
He couldn't just keep admiring forever.
Ian lifted his head and slowly surveyed the red space.
A vast plain filled his field of vision.
Or more precisely, no such plain existed in this space.
Only the empty, rippling red void filled the surroundings.
Yet Ian called it a 'plain' because.
Weapons were arrayed in orderly ranks, filling the space completely.
Just like a field of them.
'Hmm, I get the gist.'
Though Ian was far more talented at smashing heads than using them, he still had his wits about him.
The words the old mage had spoken just before the space rippled.
And the multitude of weapons.
Just looking around, he could deduce what he needed to do in the Gate Opening Ceremony.
A rite to open the gate and be recognized as a full member of the Martial Clan.
Naturally, it included selecting the 'companion' to grow alongside him as a warrior.
'Well, if they're offering, I'll take it without hesitation.'
Thud, thud!
Having grasped the true purpose of the ceremony, Ian began walking slowly across the plain inside the gemstone.
Ian's figure walking through the field of weapons inside the Weapon Orb was projected via the gemstone for the eyes of the audience chamber's executives.
"Hmm, going deeper than expected? That's surprising."
Some expressed astonishment at Ian—who they saw as half-baked—venturing further inside.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Neglect your training, and you don't know your place, getting greedy."
Others clicked their tongues, seeing Ian pressing onward as mere overambition.
"Hans, that old man must have filled his head with nonsense out of a desire to return. Tsk tsk."
Still others blamed Hans, who attended Ian.
As Ian had anticipated, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's Gate Opening Ceremony was a ritual to select one's destined weapon from within the Intrinsic Barrier formed inside the Weapon Orb.
The clan's treasury, gathering all weapons they had forged or claimed as spoils from defeated foes.
Naturally, the deeper into the barrier's heart one went, the finer the weapons arrayed there.
Among them were some that rivaled the treasured artifacts crafted with the secret arts of Dharuma Kingdom in the Western Continent, Osela—reaching the realm of ancient legends.
But to claim such alluring flowers, one needed commensurate qualifications.
Those entering the gemstone's barrier had to withstand the exponentially intensifying pressure bearing down on their bodies the closer they got to the heart.
Thus, almost no one ever selected a weapon from the deepest core during the ceremony.
Reaching the legendary realm meant it was no ordinary weapon.
Such arms would not allow an unworthy fool to claim them.
On the contrary, they might lead their foolish would-be masters down the path to ruin.
Hence, the clan's heirs grew up hearing endless warnings from elders never to get greedy during the Gate Opening Ceremony.
Know one's limits and abilities precisely, diligently train day by day to achieve merits, and gradually receive finer weapons as rewards—advancing that way.
That was the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's ideal image of a true warrior.
So, seeing Ian now, it was only natural they'd click their tongues.
The area Ian was traversing approached a zone even the clan's most promising successors dared not challenge lightly.
Among the current generation's descendants, only Eldest Young Lord Alex Lichtenauer and a handful of branch family and vassal geniuses had reached that far.
If a mere half-baked clan member like Ian got greedy, he might self-destruct in this, his very first step as a warrior during the Gate Opening Ceremony—an unprecedented fiasco.
Unable to judge even that much for himself, the audience chamber's occupants could only shake their heads at Ian's folly.
"Today, perhaps even the Patriarch's son will be the only one left besides the Eldest Young Lord... Huh?"
As everyone shook their heads with tsks, someone sensed something off and spoke to the person beside them.
"Hey, look."
"What? Why?"
"Are my eyes playing tricks? Seems like the Second Young Lord is picking something weird."
"No need to freak out. Whatever he picks from that zone, the Second Young Lord's done for anyway... Huh?"
The one who'd scolded their companion glanced at the gemstone—and their eyes widened too.
"W-What's that?"
...Crunch!
Ian could feel the pressure bearing down on his shoulders gradually intensifying the deeper he went into the clan's field.
The barrier's space itself tightened moment by moment, exerting ever-greater force—a sensation incomparable to the pressure warriors had unleashed at the Patriarch's hall entrance.
If the warriors' pressure had been a test to gauge his capacity, the sensation from the Weapon Orb's Intrinsic Barrier bordered on outright hostility.
A disdainful rejection: How dare a wretch like you set foot this deep?
That negative emotion soon turned to rage, manifesting as killing intent toward Ian.
Drip, drip!
Beyond mere pressure on his shoulders, he felt his muscles tearing and joints screaming.
'...Kuh. A mere barrier dares...'
Ian had long noticed that the quality of the arrayed weapons rose exponentially the deeper he went.
Yet, having encountered countless treasures and masterworks offered up in his previous life, he knew.
Even if these weapons were exceptional, unless it was the absolute heart of hearts.
No mere arm from this ambiguous depth would catch his eye.
In other words, unlike what the audience chamber executives thought—that he was overreaching out of greed for quality.
He pressed on not for better weapons, but simply searching for one compatible with his Blood Demon Iron Chain Art.
'Damn it! A so-called Martial Clan without even a single chain?'
For Ian—or rather, Lucas—the weapon most synergistic with his Blood Demon Iron Chain Art was, without question, a chain.
After all, wasn't the very name of the martial art he practiced in his past life infused with 'chain'?
The signature weapon of past-life Lucas, the Golden Heaven Chain.
Unyielding even to Lucas's majestic aura, moving at his will regardless of distance—it crushed any who dared oppose him and barred enemies from approaching. The ultimate weapon.
'I'm not asking for something on the level of the Golden Heaven Chain. Anything resembling a chain would suffice.'
It wasn't impossible to wield the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art's aura—Blood Demon True Qi—with ordinary swords or spears.
But a true warrior maximized their power with a familiar weapon in hand.
Especially for Ian now, whose strength was like a firefly before the full moon compared to his past life's pinnacle—finding a fitting form was of utmost importance.
Yet contrary to his expectations, even in the clan's treasury, suitable weapons were scarce.
Inevitable, really.
Even scanning the long history of the continent, no powerhouse besides Lucas had used chains as weapons.
No demand, so no supply.
Thus, he'd spotted a passable substitute... but he just couldn't bring himself to pick it.
And for good reason.
'A whip? Even for me... that's a bit much.'
If asked for the most chain-like, popular weapon, a whip was closest.
But for various(?) reasons, Ian couldn't bring himself to choose one and passed it by pretending not to see.
But now, that limit was reached.
Pressing further inward was impossible; the pressure on his body was too intense.
Beyond what current Ian could endure.
'...No choice. I'll take the whip for now and have a smith forge a proper chain later. That might be better.'
No point dragging this out if nothing fit after searching.
The moment he turned to resign and retrieve the whip he'd seen earlier.
One weapon caught Ian's eye.
A pair of dual swords forming one set.
'...This?'
An odd weapon.
Unlike typical dual swords made symmetrically.
The pair before Ian had blades of differing shapes.
One was a white right sword as long as a greatsword yet narrow like a rapier.
The other, a black left saber slightly longer than a dagger but with a blade twice that of a normal one.
Length, shape—nothing hinted at their purpose. An eccentric pair that anyone with even basic weapon knowledge would never choose.
Yet for some reason, Ian couldn't tear his eyes from them.
Soon.
Thud, thud!
Decision made, Ian strode toward the dual swords without hesitation.
Vwoooom!
As if sensing his approach.
Aura emanated from the dual swords, threatening Ian.
Grrrrrind!
'...Kuh!'
The aura shifted from hostility to killing intent, slamming Ian's knee to the ground.
The force shattered the frail bones of Ian's knee.
Limp, limp!
But Ian didn't retreat.
He dragged his broken legs toward the dual swords.
Vwoooom! Crack!
The intensifying aura snapped both his legs.
Swoosh, swoosh!
Undeterred even on shattered legs, Ian crawled toward the dual swords.
'I am Lucas Alexeida.'
No thought of yielding to a mere weapon's threat.
Grab!
Defying the dual swords' murderous aura to the end, Ian finally seized them.
He was certain.
At this moment.
Among all weapons choosable in the orb's barrier, none matched him better.
"Haa, haa..."
As Ian's hand touched the weapon after all his ordeal, the surrounding red space of the gemstone began warping slowly.
Flash!
The weapon field that had sprawled before him vanished in an instant, like a dream, returning Ian to the audience chamber.
But his battered body and the dual swords in his grip proved the space he'd endured was no illusion.
Having watched Ian's wretched state in real time, perhaps.
Voices echoed through the audience chamber.
"Tsk tsk. If you lack the skill, pick something fitting your station. What disgrace is this in the Gate Opening Ceremony?"
Some gazed in contempt at Ian, who crawled yet clung to his greed for the weapon.
"No. Any warrior worth their salt needs that much resolve to claim their desired companion! Maybe the Second Young Lord isn't a total fool after all."
Others eyed Ian anew, admiring his determination to see his will through.
As the two views clashed.
"...That weapon is your conclusion, then?"
From atop his jade throne above Ian, Paon's weary voice echoed dryly through the chamber.
"Yes. In my judgment, this is my best choice."
Ian replied steadily, unswayed by the pain.
At his words, the divided warriors' opinions converged once more.
"Madness—he picked the Black-White Sword Pair?"
"Can't even handle a basic sword properly, and that's his 'best'?"
"Ah, maybe that's it. Since skill won't cut it, he's going for notoriety?"
Murmur, murmur!
Unlike the two calmly questioning and answering, the surrounding warriors began buzzing.
Ian's choice was simply incomprehensible.
Swoosh!
"Silence."
As the chamber grew noisy, Paon raised his hand and spoke lowly.
Instantly, a hush fell—so profound even an ant's movement would be audible.
"Since when could others meddle in the choice of the ceremony's protagonist?"
"......"
No one—direct heirs or branches—dared speak.
Paon's declaration rang out.
"Ian has made his choice. As a warrior of the Lichtenauer Clan, he must bear the responsibility and consequences himself."
Standing from his seat, Paon looked down at Ian.
"With this, Ian's Gate Opening Ceremony is concluded. All of you, return to your duties."
