The One Chosen by All
"What kind of insane nonsense is that?!"
Karun shot up from his seat, glaring at Rimer as though he meant to kill him on the spot.
"You? A squad leader? How could that possibly happen?!"
He wasn't the only one. Every division leader and squad leader on the dais stared with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
"What's with all of you? Becoming a squad leader isn't that difficult, is it?"
Rimer shrugged, meeting Karun's glare without so much as a flinch.
"No. It isn't difficult. But for a cripple like you — a man with a ruined dantian — it's impossible."
"I accomplished so much in my younger days that even as a cripple, I figure I can still handle a squad leader's job."
"You think catching the Blood Fiend by sheer luck means you can fight like you used to? You can't even last through a prolonged battle! You're a half-measure at best!"
Karun clearly resented Rimer's very presence in this hall.
"I know this is sudden and hard to swallow, but the matter's already been decided."
"Decided by whom?!"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Rimer grinned and pointed at the throne set in the center of the dais.
"He's right. I granted my permission."
Glenn nodded with almost leisurely slowness.
"I've confirmed he possesses the ability befitting a squad leader. There's no need to worry."
"Father! If you slot that gambler into a squad leader's seat just because he can swing a sword, he'll bring nothing but shame on this house! Everything that man does is the work of a hooligan!"
Balder surged to his feet so violently his chair nearly shattered, jabbing an accusing finger at Rimer.
"Balder. I told you I granted my permission."
"Nngh…"
Glenn's gaze sank as deep as an abyss. The moment Balder met those eyes, a groan escaped him and his head bowed.
"Kh…"
The aura that single man radiated crushed the entire hall. Karun, too, could say nothing more. He bit down on his lip.
"I personally verified the Light Wind Squad Leader's martial prowess and authorized this. If you have complaints, bring them to me directly."
"Mmh…"
"N-no, sir."
Having just watched two Palace Masters crumple under sheer presence alone, the remaining division leaders and squad leaders snapped their mouths shut.
"That's better. Nice and quiet."
"Hah!"
"You little…!"
Rimer grinned in satisfaction. Karun and Balder glared daggers at him, fists clenched so tight the knuckles cracked.
"My lord. May I introduce myself?"
"Introduce yourself?"
"Yes. The new swordsmen already know who I am, but shouldn't I tell them how the Light Wind Squad will operate — and what we intend to do?"
"Keep it brief."
"Yes, sir!"
Rimer bowed to Glenn, then took his place at the edge of the dais.
"A pleasure. I am the Light Wind Squad Leader."
Raon lifted his gaze calmly to look at Rimer. Burren and the other swordsmen swallowed dryly, dreading whatever would come out of that flippant, frivolous mouth.
"I ask that you forget the instructor who taught you until now, and regard me solely as your new squad leader."
But his voice and his eyes were grave, and his tone was steeped in formality.
"You have already more or less decided which organization you wish to join. There will be any number of reasons for that choice — a division leader's reputation, the strength of a martial unit, generous support, or even a distinguished martial tradition. But!"
The swordsmen nodded as if spellbound by Rimer's composed words. They had watched him for five years, yet this was nearly the first time they had seen him so serious. They could not look away.
"Those things are roads your seniors paved. You would merely be climbing onto them. Even if you join a powerful organization in that state, all you can achieve is a clumsy reputation and secondhand accomplishments. Every feat worth marveling at has already been claimed by those who came before you."
His words, unexpectedly, struck at a precise truth. The expressions of swordsmen who had been smiling as though they already belonged to a martial unit went stiff.
"I cannot give you any of that. The Light Wind Squad was formed only a few days ago. We have nothing. But that is precisely our advantage — we are unfinished."
"An advantage to being unfinished?"
"What do you mean?"
Swordsmen who had fallen under Rimer's spell stepped forward.
"It means that what you can achieve in the Light Wind Squad far exceeds what you could accomplish in organizations that already stand tall."
"What we can achieve…"
Marta's eyes shone, as if she were in a trance.
"Our journey will be dangerous, and the pay will be meager. Darkness will last for months on end, and the peril will never cease. I cannot even promise you will return alive. But when we have overcome every danger and every hardship — then we will possess glory and honor."
Glory and honor. In a certain light, they were empty words. Yet the eyes of the swordsmen who heard them glittered brighter than they ever had before.
"If you come with me, I will make you capable of raising great achievements — like those who stand behind me looking down on you — and of surpassing your own limits."
Rimer extended his hand. It was empty. And yet it looked far more alluring than the hands of division leaders offering expensive jewels and equipment.
"M-my lord. This is running too long."
"Yes — perhaps it would be best if he stopped?"
Division leaders, growing frantic at the thought of their recruits being stolen, glared at Rimer as they spoke. Glenn, however, simply lowered his eyelids and gave no reaction at all.
"No one knows you better than I do. I will make you stronger than anyone! Trust me, and follow!"
Rimer shouted those last words, then returned to his original place and sat. There was no chair, so he perched on the edge of the dais — and still his magnificent presence did not diminish in the slightest.
"This is…"
"Wh-what do we do?"
"I suddenly really want to go there…"
"Mmh!"
The swordsmen fidgeted, biting their lips. A place that pulled at them had appeared without warning, and their thoughts were in disarray.
Raon, by contrast, remained utterly calm from beginning to end. He simply stood there, as if none of this had anything to do with him.
"Ahem…"
Rimer's eyes narrowed as he looked at him.
It seemed to work on the others. So why is that brat making a face like that?
The most important one of all was wearing an expression he couldn't read, and it made his chest tighten.
The others matter too — but you have to come!
The Light Wind Squad itself had been created to help Raon grow. He had to join. If he didn't, the squad would have no meaning.
And besides…
Rimer bit his lip.
I bet my entire fortune on this!
Which organization Raon would choose had become a matter of unprecedented public interest, and gambling on it had grown wildly popular. Rimer had wagered that Raon would pick a newly formed squad rather than an established one — which meant the boy absolutely had to come to the Light Wind Squad.
Please! If I lose that bet I'm actually going to die! I'll have to live on acorns!
Rimer exhaled a ragged breath and looked up at the sky. He even prayed to a god he never ordinarily acknowledged, hoping only that Raon would come here.
"For some reason, the instructor looks really cool today."
"I know. I never knew he had a side like that."
"Glory and honor. I can't believe those words came out of his mouth."
"Maybe that's his real self? Now that I look, even his eyes seem deep…"
The new swordsmen gazed at Rimer's melancholy figure and murmured in admiration. Had they seen that his head was stuffed full of gambling, they would have spat and cursed — but fortunately, no one knew.
Well. One person did. And he was simply enjoying the show.
Raon met Rimer's eyes and let a faint smile touch his lips.
He's got an angle.
Judging by Rimer's face, this wasn't just posturing. He desperately wanted Raon to join.
Raon had known the man would form a squad and show up here — but he hadn't expected him to want the recruitment this badly.
He must have placed a bet.
The only time that thuggish elf of an instructor ever got serious was when gambling was involved. Odds were he'd staked his entire fortune on Raon joining his squad.
Even so, what he said just now wasn't bad.
Rimer's call to win glory and honor together had genuinely stirred a warrior's heart. More swordsmen than expected would likely head for the Light Wind Squad.
For the first time, This King actually likes what that pointy-eared bastard has to say.
Wrath nodded as he looked at Rimer.
Indeed. A demon must never lean on another's reputation. Only by overcoming trial and hardship through one's own power can one grow strong.
We're not demons, though?
That is of no importance. When This King was in the Demon Realm, he did not merely sit in his castle — he traveled the entire realm and fought the other kings…
"The Selection Ceremony will now begin! When your name is called, step forward to the dais!"
The moment Wrath started rambling, the master of ceremonies announced the start of the Selection Ceremony.
Th-that insolent human dares interrupt This King?
Guess I should go.
Raon muttered that this was convenient and stepped back.
"Marta Zieghart. Please come forward!"
Marta nodded and started walking, then paused briefly beside Raon.
"I'm going to the Light Wind Squad. I don't trust that hooligan of an instructor — but it looks like it'll help me most with what I need to do."
She let the words drift past like a breeze and walked on.
"Will those who wish to accept Marta Zieghart please raise your hands."
The instant the master of ceremonies finished speaking, the division leaders and squad leaders standing on the dais raised their hands.
It wasn't only Denier Zieghart. Iond, who had previously sought her out, and Serena as well, lifted their hands at once, clearly wanting her.
"Hmph."
Rimer, still putting on airs, raised only two fingers.
"I'll join the Light Wind Squad."
Marta swept her gaze over every organization that wanted her, then frowned and pointed at Rimer.
"Mm…"
Denier wore a briefly regretful look, but he nodded calmly, as though he had expected this.
"From this day forward, Marta Zieghart belongs to the Light Wind Squad! Please join me in a round of congratulatory applause!"
"Waaaaaah!"
"I like that fighting spirit!"
The moment her affiliation was confirmed, the people in the audience seats sent up thunderous applause.
"Next, Runaan Sullion. Come forward."
Runaan nodded and walked ahead. She, too, stopped beside Raon and lingered for a moment.
"Raon. Light Wind Squad?"
"Who knows."
"Mm."
His answer was vague, but Runaan nodded as if she had read what was in his heart.
"Will those who wish to accept Runaan Sullion please raise your hands."
Led by Lokan Sullion, a great many leaders raised their hands — more than had done so for Marta. They seemed to think Runaan would be easier to handle.
A serious miscalculation.
Runaan looked quiet, but her stubbornness actually exceeded Marta's. Anyone who took her in was going to have a hard time.
"Runaan Sullion. Your turn. Choose the organization you wish to join."
Runaan nodded and raised a finger. At the end of it was Rimer, wearing a faint smile.
"Runaan Sullion's affiliation has been decided: the Light Wind Squad."
"RUUUUUUNAAAAAN!"
Lokan Sullion clutched his head and screamed, but Runaan merely dipped her head with vacant eyes and returned to her original place.
And so the Selection Ceremony continued. Aside from about ten swordsmen who had already firmly decided where they wanted to go, the vast majority of the new recruits chose the Light Wind Squad.
They had experienced firsthand that however eccentric Rimer might be, his ability to raise people was the real thing. And, just as he had said, they wanted to win glory and honor of their own — to write a new history.
Of course, not everyone was in a position to choose.
"Huh? Why isn't anyone raising their hand for me? Something's wrong here, right? There must be some kind of problem? C-can you not see me?"
Dorian waved frantically toward the dais, but not a single person raised a hand to take him. Rumors had apparently spread that he was so cowardly he had done nothing but run away even at Habun Castle.
"This is too much! Wait a minute! Even the Supply Division didn't raise a hand! You're really going to do this over one little mistake?!"
"A little mistake? You tried to walk off with the entire stock of supplies."
The middle-aged man who led the Supply Division clicked his tongue, his eyes cold.
"H-how can this be happening…"
Dorian stroked his Belly Pouch in disbelief, his chin trembling.
"If no one will accept the new swordsman Dorian, we will conclude his selection here—"
"Hah. So this is a master's sense of responsibility."
Just as the master of ceremonies was about to end Dorian's Selection Ceremony, Rimer let out a sigh and raised his hand.
"Whoa! Excuse me! I'll join the Light Wind Squad!"
"Ahem. Dorian's affiliation is the Light Wind Squad…"
"Thank you!"
Dorian still had a hand on his Belly Pouch as he bowed and turned back.
"Young Master! I'm saved! From now on I'll serve Lord Rimer as my master for the rest of my life!"
"Is that so…"
"Yes! Ahh, a master's grace is…"
The boy launched into a bizarre little song as he returned to his original place.
"Next, Burren Zieghart. Come forward."
"Yes."
Burren walked ahead, gravity shining in his green eyes, confidence radiating from his heavy stride.
"I'll admit the Light Wind Squad is tempting. But I'm going with my original goal."
So saying, he stood proudly before the dais. Many of the leaders leaned forward. He seemed to be drawing more interest than anyone so far.
"Will those who wish to accept Burren Zieghart please raise your hands."
At the master of ceremonies' words, the people on the dais raised their hands in a rush.
"Huh?"
Burren's expression — which ought to have been glad, with most of the leaders raising their hands — went rigid beyond any language's power to describe.
"F-Father. Why…"
The reason was simple. The man he trusted, the man whose organization he had wanted to join — Karun, Master of the Heavy Martial Palace — merely gave off a cold gaze and did not raise his hand.
"Mmh…"
"Wh-what's going on?"
"Burren isn't good enough for him?"
"With martial prowess and spirit like that…"
The master of ceremonies and the other leaders were equally bewildered, looking back and forth between Karun and Burren with their mouths hanging open.
"B-Burren Zieghart, please choose one of the leaders who raised their hands."
The master of ceremonies told him to pick an organization, but Burren did not move. His slumped shoulders trembled as he stared only at his father.
Raon studied Karun's eyes — eyes that looked not at a son, but at garbage — and let out a scornful laugh.
I knew it. That man isn't anyone worth respecting.
Burren had said his father was admirable, that he was a great man. But this person was not worthy of respect. He was nothing more than a petty schemer, smaller-minded than a minnow.
Unexpected. That one's martial prowess and temperament have grown remarkably.
It's the temperament he doesn't like.
The temperament?
The cold, machine-like personality Burren first showed has become bold and easygoing. That's what he can't stand.
Having seen a monster named Derus in his previous life, Raon was certain. Karun could not bear that a son he meant to use as a chess piece was trying to move by his own will.
"Burren. Please choose."
Even when the master of ceremonies spoke, Burren did not move.
"I will count to five. If you have not chosen by then, your affiliation will remain undecided. One, two, three, four…"
The master of ceremonies dragged the count out, trying to be considerate. Burren simply stood there in a daze.
"Hah. Five. Burren Zieghart's affiliation has not been decided."
"Ah…"
Even after being told it was over, Burren did not move. Only when the other swordsmen came out and led him away did he start walking, slow as a broken doll.
Then what happens to that one?
He has to decide his affiliation within a month. He'll have to go find someone himself.
What a curious turn of events.
Wrath seemed, if only a little, to be worried about Burren — as if even dislike could grow into a kind of attachment.
"The final selection of the day. Top graduate of the 5th Training Ground, Raon Zieghart. Come forward!"
Raon nodded at the master of ceremonies' ringing voice and walked ahead.
Karun Zieghart frowned as he watched his youngest son stagger away.
A useless brat.
What he wanted from a son was a sword with enough venom to stab a friend or a teacher to death — not a human being who thought and moved on his own.
He had raised the boy to possess that venom and that malice, and the fool had come back without even claiming the top seat. Something like that was no longer of any use to him.
"My, how ruthless."
He turned toward the irritating voice at his side. Rimer was grinning.
"What did you say?"
"Burren's martial prowess and mental fortitude go without saying — and he even grew as a human being through the survival exam. I never thought you'd refuse to even look at him."
"That is the problem."
Karun snorted.
"A child is nothing more than an extension of myself. Spiritual growth is unnecessary. He need only do exactly as he is told."
"Wow. What a repulsive thing to say."
"This is your fault."
When Rimer chuckled, Karun glared at him as if he meant to kill him.
"Burren has been ruined ever since you took charge of him."
"That isn't ruin. That's growth. Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the Heavy Martial Palace Master's eyes?"
"You…"
The two men's hostile auras clashed, spilling a strange energy across the dais.
"Both of you. Close your mouths."
"Mm…"
"My apologies."
The moment Glenn's gaze touched them, Karun and Rimer swallowed their sounds and extinguished their auras at the same time.
"This is the last one. Focus."
He narrowed his eyes at Burren walking away in desolation, then looked toward Raon coming forward from the opposite side.
"The greatest catch of this Selection Ceremony has arrived."
Rimer started talking again as if he had never shut his mouth at all.
"But the direct line won't be raising their hands, will they?"
"What?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The direct-line leaders and the collateral-line leaders who followed them shot him sharp looks.
"I heard an interesting story during this training period."
Rimer twirled a long finger as if mocking someone.
"From the latter half of the training onward, the Heavy Martial Palace was so afraid of Raon that all they did was back down. They pulled out every vice squad leader, squad leader, and division leader, and left Raon to do whatever he wanted. The rumor spread far and wide that they were terrified of getting cleaned out by him."
He lifted his chin slightly, looking down on the direct line as he continued.
"Direct-line lords like that would be too frightened to accept Raon, wouldn't they? Even if you don't raise your hands, I understand completely."
"You son of a—!"
"Rimer!"
"Have you truly gone mad?!"
Karun, Balder, and the rest of the direct line surged to their feet.
"The Selection Ceremony isn't over yet. You shouldn't do that."
Rimer casually pointed to the side. An uncomfortable aura was seeping from Glenn.
"Mmh…"
"Nngh…"
The direct line clenched their teeth and sat back down, but they did not stop glaring at Rimer as if they meant to kill him.
That damned bastard…
Karun pressed his lips together and looked at Raon standing before the dais. Master and disciple alike were infuriating beyond measure. He wanted to beat them to death right then and there.
Afraid? I was afraid of him?
Rimer's claim that he had been frightened into backing down kept circling through his mind.
As if he would ever be afraid of a worm like that. He had merely avoided unnecessary collisions so that he could kill the boy later.
Damn it…
Once the thought surfaced, the things Raon had smashed in the Heavy Martial Palace and the disciples he had broken came flooding back one after another.
Fine. I'll play along.
Karun decided he would raise his hand for Raon. If by some chance the boy actually came, he need only use him down to the bone, the flesh, and the last drop of blood — and then kill him.
"Will those who wish to accept Raon Zieghart please raise your hands."
Hoping that this insolent Raon would do something stupid one more time, Karun closed his eyes and lifted his hand.
Hm?
The surroundings had gone silent, as if all sound had vanished. If he had raised his hand, there should have been a stir of voices — the opposite of this.
What's going on…
Karun frowned and opened his eyes.
Raon's expression was composed, but the audience and the swordsmen were staring at the dais with their mouths hanging open.
"Hah—!"
The moment he looked around, a groan burst from him. It wasn't only him. The direct-line leaders he had been certain would not raise their hands were staring wide-eyed, their arms in the air.
Everyone on this dais had raised a hand, declaring that they wanted Raon.
"What in the…"
"There's a legend that's been passed down in House Zieghart."
Just as Karun, flustered, was about to lower his hand, a low voice drifted from Rimer.
Rimer's grave green eyes gleamed as he grinned.
"Thank you for looking after my disciple."