Confidence, Not Arrogance
“In the first stage of Lee Taehoon’s test, the total number of Dark Hounds eliminated was two.”
Only two. He hadn’t given up halfway through the exam. He had killed one Dark Hound, then charged the Core Entity, and after a brutal fight he had finally brought it down. The moment it died, the remaining Dark Hounds had naturally scattered into nothingness.
As the result was announced, the people around him began whispering among themselves.
“What...? What is this supposed to mean? Was there some kind of error?”
“Why did all the Dark Hounds disappear after only two were killed? Earlier, Min Sua killed more than ten, and the number of creatures didn’t even go up?”
The qualification test was carried out by magic. Everything they saw, everything they felt, was a fabricated illusion created by magic. Which meant an error was always possible. The odds were slim, of course, but not something that could be ruled out entirely. After all, humans were running the thing; mistakes could happen.
As the crowd grew confused, Instructor Jong Junhyeok stepped forward with a shake of his head.
“Everyone, calm down. Nothing has gone wrong, and no unexpected error has occurred. The boy who just took the exam killed the Core Entity, so the remaining Dark Hounds fled according to their nature as monsters. In other words, they were treated as having escaped. To put it more simply, he cleared a hidden condition.”
“What does that mean? Then how are the points calculated?”
That was naturally what everyone cared about. The boy who had just put on such a staggering performance. How would his score be determined? Had he not declared failure himself, but instead killed the Core Entity and caused the monsters to vanish? Then would he receive bonus points? If not, would he only be credited for the two kills?
It was a tense situation. Since Flote Academy used relative evaluation, the way Taehoon’s score came out could give everyone behind him a valuable opportunity to adjust their own strategies.
“Lee Taehoon’s score for the first-stage qualification test is A.”
“That’s impossible!”
Song Minwoo shouted from below.
“What the hell do you mean, impossible? I killed more than ten of them and got B, and you’re giving him A when he only killed two? What, because he killed them with his bare hands? I could do that too if I wanted. I want a retest. I’ll crush monsters with my bare hands like he did and get an A too!”
It had finally burst. Song Minwoo couldn’t accept it. Lee Taehoon, who was so far beneath him in physical ability, was being given a higher score than him? Worse, he had killed only two monsters and still earned what was effectively the highest possible grade, A. It was absurd. Impossible. Min Sua was a girl known as a genius swordswoman, so Minwoo grudgingly accepted that she might get away with it. But not Taehoon.
“Calm down, Song Minwoo.”
“Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down? Two fucking monsters and he gets an A! Does that make any sense? Can’t you see the looks on everyone else’s faces? Fine, maybe it’s amazing that he killed them with his bare hands, but only two? Everyone here could do that, too. Right? Come on, say I’m wrong!”
“Song Minwoo.”
Jong Junhyeok’s eyes narrowed, and he began gathering mana.
“Respect other people’s achievements. And be wary of what you do not understand. Monsters are divided into two types: ordinary creatures and Core Entities. The two are almost impossible to distinguish at a glance, which is why ordinary people can’t tell them apart. But a Core Entity gives off a special pheromone, allowing it to influence the behavior of monsters of the same kind. In other words, they can operate in a pack, like wolves.”
“That can’t be... We were told monsters can’t work together in groups.”
“There’s been a misunderstanding. When people say monsters can’t engage in group activity, they mean different species don’t integrate and move together. In simple terms, Dark Hounds move with Dark Hounds, goblins with goblins, skeletons with skeletons. They simply don’t form mixed-species packs. The Core Entity’s pheromone only affects its own species.”
“For reference, only a tiny fraction of ordinary monsters are born as Core Entities, and a Core Entity can command monsters of its own kind. So while different monsters can’t unite and act as one, creatures of the same type can move together under a single leader. To put it plainly, a Core Entity is the general of its pack. When the general dies on the battlefield, the formation collapses.”
Jong Junhyeok emphasized the point once more.
“The reason Lee Taehoon received A despite killing only two Dark Hounds is that he killed the Core Entity. In a real fight, if you encountered a pack of Dark Hounds, which would be more impressive: killing fifty Dark Hounds, or killing the Core Entity? The answer is obvious. The latter. If you kill the Core Entity, even if there are hundreds or thousands of enemies, you can break them apart; and if you’re lucky, you may even avoid the battle entirely. This exam simply applied the realistic nature of monsters and the Core Entity factor. If someone else had killed a Core Entity, even a single one, they would have received an A as well.”
The crowd began whispering again.
“What... there was something like that? I don’t really get it, but if you just kill the Core Entity, that’s enough?”
“Damn it... I already finished my test... If I’d known that, I would’ve gone after the Core Entity first.”
Instructor Jong Junhyeok listened to the murmurings and barely held back a laugh at how ridiculous it all was.
The reason Core Entities were difficult to kill lay in their intelligence. They possessed clearly superior intelligence compared to ordinary creatures, and because they could command monsters of the same species, they hid themselves in the safest possible place by using dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of monsters as shields. Of course, sometimes they even showed themselves openly outside, precisely to lure their opponents into letting their guard down. The reason they could do that was because they could sense the other side’s killing intent with near-perfect accuracy.
When someone harbored murderous intent toward a Core Entity, it sensed it instantly. In effect, it knew who the enemy would attack next, and since it could also control nearby monsters of the same species, it was hard to catch. And yet Lee Taehoon had still managed to kill it.
I definitely let off killing intent toward another one.
Before charging the Core Entity, Taehoon had bared his killing intent toward a monster standing a little ways away from it. Thanks to that, the Core Entity had relaxed and given ground, and in that instant Taehoon had abruptly turned and latched onto it, catching the creature completely off guard.
Once Taehoon had gotten hold of it, the outcome had been decided in an instant. He had torn at its flesh with his teeth, gouged its eyes, and driven the blade of his sword into its vital points again and again. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a savage brawl, but there had been nothing unnecessary in his movements.
With the least possible force, he had delivered the maximum attack necessary for survival, and he had done it with ruthless efficiency. He had even deceived the Core Entity’s eyes and senses in the process.
The more you know, the more you see. I suppose that’s true.
Looking over the other prospective cadets, it seemed they all believed Taehoon had merely gotten lucky and stumbled into killing the Core Entity. Jong Junhyeok felt a twinge of pity. If he were the sort of man who could kill a Core Entity by luck alone, would the academy really hand him an A-grade for it? In all likelihood, no one else in this exam would be able to do what Taehoon had just done. Not even with all the information right in front of them.
Song Minwoo muttered in a voice that was all but a growl.
“Damn it... Lucky bastard.”
He was his nephew, but Jong Junhyeok found Song Minwoo deeply regrettable and deeply exasperating. He had been born with outstanding talent, yet believed his own talent and effort were all that mattered, and looked down on everyone else. Was it the environment that had made him this way? Minwoo was still huffing in anger, but perhaps that was actually a blessing.
The detail Lee Taehoon had just displayed—from the moment he charged the enemy, to using his own body as bait to lure the Core Entity, to making it lower its guard and killing it with the minimum amount of force and movement—was the sort of thing that, if Minwoo had truly understood it, would not have left him raging like this. He would have collapsed into despair instead.
What overwhelming talent...
Combat instinct that no one could dare approach. He hadn’t even entered the academy yet, which meant he had never actually faced monsters in person. That meant he had done all of this purely by instinct.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that boy was born to kill monsters. Astonishing.
Jong Junhyeok’s evaluation of Taehoon continued to rise, while only the ignorant prospective cadets grumbled in dissatisfaction.
“Still, he’s in a weird spot, whether he was lucky or unlucky. It’s not like he can avoid failing anyway, right? The qualification exam has the highest point value, so if his overall score ends up around C, he’ll just barely miss the cutoff.”
“Why C? Doesn’t he still have the second-stage test left?”
“You idiot, don’t you know the second-stage test measures a swordsman’s true qualification? You have to endure insane pain under extreme conditions, and with that twig of a body, do you really think he can manage it? Just now, after killing two Dark Hounds, he was already huffing on the ground. He was lucky to catch the Core Entity, that’s all. If he hadn’t, his first-stage score would’ve been C. So his second-stage result is obviously going to be F. Physical ability test F, first qualification test A, second qualification test F—that adds up to C overall, which means he’ll miss the admission cutoff.”
Min Sua, listening nearby, ignored their chatter and looked at Taehoon with complete seriousness.
No way... again?
Lee Taehoon. He calmly looked around without the slightest trace of tension. Han Miyu, the examiner, approached him and asked,
“The second-stage test evaluates a swordsman’s true qualification. It measures whether you can keep hold of your sword in any situation, and whether you can perform under the most extreme conditions. Pain is felt exactly as it would be in reality, and if an unexpected danger arises, or if the participant’s mind breaks down or they are at risk of dying from shock, the medical magic will activate automatically and halt the test. However, if the magic does not function properly, you may still suffer a severe shock. Please keep that in mind and choose your difficulty level.”
Taehoon snorted. Hadn’t Min Sua just taken an A-level test and been swallowed by a fireball the size of a person? And that had been an A?
I didn’t let go of my sword even when I was being eaten alive by thousands of monsters.
Right before my regression. Even as monsters devoured my entire body, my hand never loosened on the sword. If I wanted to avoid failing, I needed the highest score here. So I said it without hesitation.
“I’ll take the highest difficulty.”
“I’m sure I warned you already. Depending on your physical ability, there’s a limit to how much you can endure. No matter how strong your mental fortitude is, your body still has to be able to support it.”
Han Miyu tried to stop him with a serious expression, but Taehoon was unwavering.
“I understand. I’ll take full responsibility, so please proceed.”
“...Sigh. Very well. Then I’ll set it to A difficulty—”
“No. As far as I know, the highest difficulty isn’t A.”
There was a level above A, officially listed but so dangerous that no one ever dared challenge it. S.
When Taehoon said that, the examiner’s eyes went wide.
“Are you saying you want to attempt S difficulty? If A requires enduring the pain of being burned alive, then S means enduring the pain of being chewed alive by monsters. And if you fail partway through, you won’t receive any score at all. Even so, you want to challenge S difficulty?”
When Taehoon silently nodded, the examiner cried out,
“I’m telling you, it’s really dangerous! Your score doesn’t matter right now—you might never be able to hold a sword again. You could end up with severe trauma! Just seeing monsters might leave you shaking!”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Instructor Jong Junhyeok stepped up and stopped Han Miyu.
“Let him be. It’s his choice.”
“You call yourself an instructor and you’re saying that...! What if he’s left disabled? Are you going to take responsibility?”
“Because I believe in him. He’ll endure it.”
“What do you know? He’s just a student you met today, isn’t he?”
“I did meet him today. And I saw enough.”
Han Miyu shook her head and shouted,
“Everyone, get the medical staff ready. And prepare healing magic so it can be deployed at all times in case of an emergency!”
At her command, the people moved with crisp efficiency. Soon after, Han Miyu approached Taehoon slowly, wearing a pitying expression.
“If it looks too dangerous, give up right away. There’s always another exam. You can do better next time. You don’t have to push yourself this hard, okay?”
“Thank you for your concern.”
I bowed my head and walked slowly to the designated spot.
I steadied my breathing and brought my sword up in both hands. Then I fixed my gaze straight ahead in silence. And then. Countless monsters began to appear around me.
My body was swallowed by a furnace of pain, and searing agony spread through my arms. Hundreds of monsters rushed in, tearing at me as though they meant to devour my very flesh.
Then several monsters began biting into Taehoon’s body.
“Kyaaaah!”
Cries of shock began ringing out through the hall.
“Tsk, it’s over already.”
Mockery, worry, and sighs of disappointment rippled through the chamber.
Taehoon murmured quietly. The people strained to hear him.
“Is he even begging to be saved?”
“Sounds like he’s giving up.”
“I told you, he should’ve shown a little restraint. There was no way a body that thin could endure this.”
The screams gradually faded, and his voice began to reach the others more clearly.
“Five seconds... six seconds...”
He clenched his teeth and, with an unshaken expression and stance, began counting the seconds.