Chapter 3. Transformation (3)

After finishing with the Dartz gang and the commotion.

Yuri, having left the territory, entered a nearby forest path where few people ventured. He confirmed that there was no one around and hurriedly hunched over.

Cough—

He quickly clamped his hand over his mouth as a cough burst out. Between his snow-white fingers, a red tinge of blood seeped out. It was a significant amount of blood, evident at a glance. However, Yuri wiped the blood from his lips nonchalantly.

“Damn pig.”

With a look of annoyance, Yuri cursed Dartz and then collapsed due to a headache that felt like his brain was being split open.

“Gah!”

In extreme pain, he quickly pulled out a pouch from his coat. From the leather pouch, he took out a medicine made from crushed herbs and quickly chewed and swallowed it. He took deep, rough breaths, waiting for the medicine to take effect.

“Huff, huff.”

Despite the strong analgesic properties of the herbs, the headache did not easily subside. The sensation of sticky blood on his palms made his face contort even more.

‘Damn it!’

The ‘Black Plague’ that wiped out the Fauli family and brought disaster to those related to it. The terrifying monster that suddenly appeared and took many lives vanished without a trace at some point.

Some said the Black Plague had been eliminated, while others claimed it had moved elsewhere.

But the truth was different.

‘That’s why I didn’t want to use it.’

Eight years ago, when his eyes rolled back and he went berserk.

What stopped the Black Plague, known as a source of fear, was not the extermination squad but Yuri himself. More precisely, it was his severely damaged body that caused him to stop.

‘Just by dipping my toe in, it turned out like this...’

The first time he became aware of the ‘curse’ was around the age of eight. It was when he suddenly started coughing up blood and fainted, just as his blood revenge was almost complete. As this situation repeated several times, Yuri realized something.

‘What I thought was power without a price... was actually a curse that gnawed at my life force.’

Currently, Yuri’s body could be described as a bomb with a lit fuse. The burning fuse would continue to burn even if he remained still. The more he used his power, the faster the fuse burned.

‘How much of my fuse is left...?’

If the fuse burns out completely and the bomb explodes, will he die? Or will the black monster consume him? Whatever happens, it will be the end of ‘Yuri Holland’ as a human being.

‘I need to find a way to remove the curse.’

Eight years ago, the intense anger and murderous intent that flared up subsided into a survival instinct. Yuri, suppressing his power and curse to the maximum, wandered the world like a stray dog, seeking a way to handle it. However, he could not discover the cause of his deteriorating body, let alone the identity of the ‘black monster,’ anywhere.

The more this happened, the more his desire to live turned into an obsession.

Now, at the tender age of fifteen, he knew his life was limited, but he did not know when it would end. An uncertain future where he might live for another ten years or might not wake up the next morning. Each day was both precious and painful for Yuri.

Exhausted by such a life, he stayed in the Irons territory for half a year to rest.

But.

“...Is it time to leave here?”

Yuri felt it was time to move on again. If he stayed any longer, he might become too comfortable.

“Huff...”

As the headache subsided, Yuri got up and walked toward the hiding place he had made. In the darkness,

Rustle—

The eyes that had been watching Yuri’s back as he entered the forest blinked and then disappeared.

* * *

The next morning.

Yuri was in the Irons territory. He blinked, feeling the bustling atmosphere through his skin.

‘So many people have gathered.’

From the gate leading into the territory to the town square.

The people of the territory lined the wide, well-maintained main road.

The reason they had gathered was for one thing: to see those they had been waiting for the past three months. This was also the reason Yuri had entered the territory.

‘The Black Swordsmen.’

The reputation of the Black Swordsmen (Black Swordsmen) was known throughout the continent. The personal guard of the Sword Lord. The strongest military organization on earth. The guardians of the cradle, and so on. However, despite their illustrious reputation, the opportunity to meet them was rare, perhaps once in a lifetime. Even Yuri, who had traveled the continent for a long time, had never seen them.

‘Since I’m leaving Irons, it wouldn’t hurt to see the Black Swordsmen while I have the chance.’

When would he have another opportunity to see the Black Swordsmen?

At that moment, as Yuri’s gaze turned toward the gate,

Creak—

The gate of the territory, far away, slowly lifted. Soon, murmurs erupted from all around.

“They’re here!”

“Are they really here?”

People turned their heads toward the gate.

Thud—

Finally, the gate was completely open. Beyond the open gate, they were there.

Black uniforms adorned with golden tassels. Black cloaks draped over their shoulders. Five people in black uniforms, as the name ‘Black Swordsmen’ suggested, rode brown horses into the territory.

Clomp, clomp—

“Wow!”

“The Black Swordsmen!”

“The guardians of the cradle!”

The appearance of those they had been waiting for. The people of the territory cheered as the mounted Black Swordsmen passed by. Yuri also looked at the Black Swordsmen.

The first thing that struck him was their blade-like aura. As he met the eyes of the Black Swordsmen, a thin layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.

‘These guys...’

Do those cheering now realize how the Black Swordsmen look at them?

Perhaps I am the only one here who understands.

‘They don’t see people as people.’

The way the Black Swordsmen looked at people was like looking at a large rock on the side of the road. An obstacle that could be removed at any time if necessary.

‘What a disgusting look.’

As the memory of that day eight years ago surfaced, Yuri’s expression hardened.

* * *

A neatly arranged training ground.

A young boy was swinging a two-handed sword, sweating profusely. His thick blonde hair and green eyes. Distinctive features and a rather cold demeanor. The handsome boy was so engrossed in his training that he seemed to have lost track of time.

Whoosh—

The heavy longsword, which an ordinary person would find difficult to even lift, moved with the precision of a ruler, without a single deviation in its path.

‘Clear your mind and focus on the tip of the sword.’

The blonde boy, Gunter. He focused on the tip of the sword with astonishing concentration. As his consciousness focused on the sword, the aura of the sword grew stronger.

Then, at some point,

———!

The piercing sound that had been heard a moment ago disappeared. The speed at which he swung the sword did not change, but the sound had vanished.

“Hiss!”

Gunter exhaled sharply. A faint cutting sound followed.

Swoosh—

About 0.5 seconds later, a sound of a different dimension erupted.

Whoosh— Bang!

A strong wind burst forth from where Gunter stood. The powerful wind pressure ruffled his hair and cooled his sweating body.

“Huff...”

Only then did Gunter stop his sword and regulate his breathing. The heat rising from his body cleared his mind. As he finished heating his body and calmed his mind,

“Are you done?”

A deep voice came from behind. Gunter sheathed his sword and turned around.

“Have you come?”

Gunter’s gaze fell on a middle-aged man with a deep and dignified appearance, matching his voice. The private training ground, accessible only to the head of the family and his direct descendants. Moreover, there were not many people in Irons who could make the young heir bow his head. It was none other than Ashraf, the ruler of Irons.

He asked his sweating son,

“How is your body?”

“I am fine.”

Despite being father and son, the atmosphere between them was extremely stiff. It felt more like a relationship between a ruler and his subject. Moreover, since both were men of few words, this atmosphere was even more pronounced. Father and son looked at each other.

In the silence, Ashraf spoke unusually at length.

“You will pass the Cradle’s test without difficulty. However, this only means you have reached the starting line of the competition... What’s the importance of just standing at the starting line? I expect more from you than that.”

“...”

“Over the past fifty years, the Cradle has produced many strong individuals. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the continent has been transformed by the strong individuals from the Cradle, and those who know this best are... those who have experienced the Cradle.”

This was a statement infused with Ashraf’s experience, having led the revival of Irons after returning from the Cradle.

Gunter listened to his father’s words.

“Because those who have once been to the Cradle continue to push their successors into the Cradle... the current Cradle can be called a miniature of the world’s power structure.”

Ashraf’s eyes sparkled as he looked at his son.

“So, reach the pinnacle of the Cradle. Gunter Irons, the successor of Ashraf!”

“...”

“Prove that you are the best. The five years of testing in the Cradle will lead to fifty years of glory for Irons.”

At the Cradle, a miniature of the continent’s power structure.

And in the arena where the best geniuses of each faction gather, he was being told to reach the pinnacle. This was undoubtedly a tremendous burden. However, Ashraf knew well.

His son would not be shaken by just this.

“I will do so.”

Gunter answered stiffly, his expression unchanged. Ashraf smiled faintly at his son’s response, as if he had expected it.

At that moment,

Whoa—

The cheers from outside made Ashraf’s smile disappear.

“The supporting actors are entering the stage we have prepared.”

The grand stage prepared for today. The main character of the stage that would showcase Irons’ status was none other than his son.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Ashraf and Gunter, the main characters of this stage, moved to step onto it.

* * *

The cheers that began at the gate followed the Black Swordsmen to the square. In the central square, a spacious area specially prepared for today, the soldiers formed a circular human wall.

People who were blocked by the soldiers complained.

“Hey, this is too far! How can we see anything from here?”

“Let us get a bit closer!”

“This is already a close call. Don’t get too close and risk getting a sword tip. Just watch from here.”

“Damn...”

“The lord’s orders. If you get any closer, you’ll spend tonight in jail.”

“Ugh...”

Those who were stopped by the soldiers grumbled but, upon hearing the lord’s orders, they could no longer express their dissatisfaction and retreated.

In the crowded square, some people gave up on getting closer and climbed up nearby trees or rooftops to find a spot.

Their gazes were fixed on the Black Swordsmen who had dismounted their horses and arrived at the center of the square. Despite being the center of attention for so many people, the Black Swordsmen showed no particular emotion. They simply stood in their positions.

After some time,

Boom—

A majestic drumbeat echoed, and a large group of people appeared on the road leading from the lord’s castle.

“It’s the lord!”

“It’s Master Gunter!”

People cheered at the sight of the lord and the day’s main character, Gunter, standing beside him. And finally,

Thud, thud—

The two groups met in the center of the square. Ashraf, as the lord of the territory, greeted them.

“Thank you for your long journey.”

“...”

Despite the lord’s welcome, the Black Swordsmen did not even respond, only giving a cold stare. The nobles’ eyebrows twitched at their rudeness, but the lord, who knew what kind of beings the Black Swordsmen were, took it in stride.

At that moment, one of the Black Swordsmen stepped forward.

“Submit the dragon token, Ashraf Irons, the 29th candidate for the Cradle.”

The indifferent tone. As soon as these words were spoken, a noble behind Ashraf brought forward an elegant wooden stand. Inside was a golden token with a dragon engraved on it. Known as the Dragon Token, it was both an admission ticket and a diploma for those who had graduated from the Cradle. It was also a recommendation letter that could be used only once in a lifetime.

After confirming and collecting the Dragon Token, the Black Swordsman called out again.

“Those who will take the test, step forward.”

At this, Gunter, in his armor, stepped forward.

“I am Gunter, the eldest son of Irons. I wish to take the Cradle’s test.”

His poised demeanor, uncharacteristic of a fifteen-year-old, pleased not only the nobles but also the audience.

The Black Swordsman continued.

“I hereby announce that the Cradle’s qualification test, conducted under the laws set by the great Sword Lord and in the presence of the five members of the 8th squad of the Black Swords, has begun!”

The Black Swordsman’s voice, amplified by mana, echoed throughout the square. Gunter stepped forward, raising his sword to eye level, the blade facing forward. This was a ritual performed by knights before engaging in a duel.

As Gunter took his stance, one of the Black Swordsmen stepped forward. The youngest-looking among them,

Swish—

drew a straight, single-edged sword, a weapon commonly used by warriors. As the two faced each other in the center, the spectators held their breath in anticipation.

“Begin.”

“Master, do your best!”

Amid the tension and excitement from the crowd, the Black Swordsman, sword in hand, spoke.

“The test will end with a single exchange. You may begin when you are ready.”

A single exchange.

The outcome of the test would be decided by a single clash. In other words, Gunter had to put all his strength into a single strike.

‘My opponent is a Black Swordsman.’

While his exact level was unknown, he was at least a recognized 1st Dan. For Gunter, who was only an unranked 1st Class, this was an opponent he could not easily handle.

‘I must do my best.’

With this resolve, Gunter took a deep breath.

Swoosh—

With the first breath, the Irons’ magical body technique, honed over ten years, began to activate.

Swoosh—

With the next breath, vitality infused his muscles, and the mana in the air reached Gunter’s mana. This triggered the mana he had accumulated since birth.

‘Mana is the kindling stacked in the body.’

As the spark ignited the dry kindling, the heat radiated from his preheated body.

And,

‘Breath is the wind that fuels the fire of mana!’

Hiss!

With a short, sharp breath, Gunter’s body exploded into action.

Bang—

His steel boots kicked off the ground, leaving a dent, and propelled him forward.

Boom!

His movement was explosive. To the naked eye, it seemed as if Gunter had vanished.

With his powerful leap, Gunter reached the Black Swordsman and, gripping his longsword with both hands, swung it.

Zzzt—

About 500 years ago, the founder of Irons created a magical body technique and sword technique inspired by the lightning-wielding king of griffins. Among these, three white lightning streaks, resembling griffin claws, shot toward the Black Swordsman’s neck.

The scene looked as if a human body could be torn apart by the claws at any moment. The nobles’ faces showed surprise.

‘Three claws!’

‘He’s already using three claws!’

When fully mastered, five claws would appear. For a fifteen-year-old like Gunter, three claws were an astonishing level of proficiency.

‘Perfect.’

Gunter’s eyes sparkled as he used three claws. The transfer of power from the ground, the mastery of the technique, and the strength of the attack. It was not the strongest attack, but it was the best he could do.

He was confident that this would produce results.

Just as the three claws were about to strike the Black Swordsman’s heart,

Swish—

A single streak of light, like a snake, curved and slipped between the three claws.

Clang—

At the same time, a strange noise echoed, and Gunter’s body was thrown backward.

Sizzle—

Kneeling on the ground, Gunter slid back about three meters. He looked down at his sword, which had suddenly become lighter.

“...?!”

Seeing the broken sword, Gunter’s eyes wavered.

‘So... easily?’

While he expected his attack to be blocked, he did not anticipate the sword breaking.

The sword, a symbol of a knight’s belief and vow, breaking made Gunter deeply shaken.

“What... what happened?”

“Is it over? It was just a flash and it’s over.”

“It seems the young master lost... What does this mean? Did he fail the test?”

“Don’t say such unlucky things!”

“Be quiet! Let’s hear what they say!”

As the people murmured about the result, the Black Swordsman who faced Gunter sheathed his sword.

Click—

The sound of the sword being sheathed seemed to signal the start of the evaluation. The five Black Swordsmen spoke in turn.

“Standard: Upper.”

“Standard: Highest.”

“Standard: Upper.”

“Standard: Highest.”

“Standard: Highest.”

Two ‘Upper’ and three ‘Highest’. The squad leader of the 8th squad of the Black Swordsmen summarized the opinions.

“Overall standard: Highest. Passed.”

With these words, the squad leader threw a Dragon Token to Gunter. It was not the gold Dragon Token that had been collected, but a platinum one. The number 50 was engraved on the back, signifying that he was the