Chapter 32: Recruitment (5)

A social party.

It was different from that time.

If the Roman of that day was a well-packaged, splendid peacock as a noble, now he was equipped as if ready to go into battle at any moment.

His presence was not ordinary.

People unknowingly made way for him, and the crowds that split to either side dared not meet Roman's eyes, bowing their heads.

The gazes of the people.

The reactions of the people.

Roman accepted them as a matter of course.

Even when he was recognized as a new Heavenly Horse at the Ten Thousand Great Mountains.

Even when he decimated the righteous faction like waves and conquered the martial world.

Roman, or rather, Baek Jung-hyuk, lived as a ruler, and thus knew what attitude to show.

Thud, thud.

He walked forward.

People looked at each other.

It was incomprehensible.

Drawn by the rumors of Roman Demetri, some people had applied for the mercenary recruitment, but some thought they were too good for the position of a common mercenary.

However, upon meeting Roman in person, they could not help but act differently from what they had expected.

The atmosphere he naturally exuded.

The attitude of accepting being looked up to as a matter of course.

He was a different being from ordinary people, and even the men who had been chattering loudly could not say a word now.

Silence lingered.

Finally.

Roman stood before the people.

With over five hundred people bowing their heads to him, Roman spoke in a calm tone.

"Raise your heads."

It was an order.

The people raised their heads.

Roman did not do anything special, but the people were already caught up in Roman's presence.

"As I mentioned in the announcement, I will use this opportunity to select thirty soldiers who will fight for me. Before the test begins, there is something I want to tell you. I, Roman Demetri, do not intend to spend my time idly in a border fief. I will always strive to achieve a higher position than I am now, and in the process, fighting for my life is an inevitable fate. So, those who think they will follow me with a light heart should turn back now. When your heads are cut off on the battlefield, the only regret you will have is not the resentment towards me for driving you to the battlefield, but the regret of not being able to witness me standing at the top of the continent."

"…!"

The people were shocked.

Roman's statement.

It was arrogant.

Not to mention the top of the continent, Roman Demetri, whose position as the successor in the Demetri family was precarious, spoke of being the best on the continent in front of many people.

The problem was that no one could laugh. The charisma Roman exuded and the firm attitude he showed made it seem as if such a thing could really happen.

They understood.

That Roman's words were empty.

But the people who came following the rumors and ideals could not bring themselves to turn back even when they saw Roman.

Roman said,

"If you pass the test and become my people, you will be able to live as predators who can decide their own lives. I, Roman Demetri, promise you this much."

That was the end.

Roman Demetri took a step back.

Finally.

The moment the test began.

* * *

There was no cheering.

A suffocating tension.

With people still unable to take their eyes off Roman, Chris stepped forward and spoke.

"I will now explain the procedure for the first test."

Five hundred applicants.

Lucas thought the level of the people who applied for the mercenary recruitment was higher than expected, but by Roman's standards, they were nothing more than a motley crew.

Most of them probably could not even withstand Chris's sword.

But for now, this was the best way to recruit soldiers, and starting from the bottom was not an unfamiliar situation for Roman.

Coming out of the 12th Cell.

Baek Jung-hyuk formed a group for the first time.

Back then, there were only motley crew around Baek Jung-hyuk, but Baek Jung-hyuk confirmed only one value.

'What I seek is a strong will. Those who are born with the heart of a beast will quickly become strong even if they start from the bottom. And only such people can be with me.'

The heart of a beast.

It is a innate talent.

Kevin, who wielded a knife without hesitation when ordered to cut his arm, or Chris, who asked the victor for a way to become stronger even after a crushing defeat.

Such people were cases of being born with the heart of a beast.

People with chicken chests, no matter how strong they might be, cannot guarantee victory in a fight against a different kind of existence.

Thirty people.

No conditions.

Even if they did not know how to wield a sword, he sought the talent to grab a sword with bare hands for victory.

Chris said,

"The test is simple. When an applicant stands in the designated position, the archer we have prepared will shoot three arrows at the applicant. The arrows may pierce the applicant's body and cause fatal injuries, or they may narrowly miss and hit the board behind. The only certainty is that only those who do not move at all while the three arrows are being shot will qualify for the first round."

The first test.

It was a test to confirm courage.

* * *

The test began.

As the first applicant stepped forward, Morrison, who was next in line, could not hide his anxious expression.

'What kind of test is this? Everyone has gone crazy!'

Morrison.

He was a commoner.

A miner by profession, he thought that a job that involved being covered in dirt every day did not suit him.

So he always wished to become a handsome knight like Chris. Without knowing how much blood and sweat knights shed to reach their positions, he was deeply immersed in the fantasy of shining armor reflecting in the sunlight.

To him.

The mercenary recruitment was a golden opportunity.

Attracted by the appealing salary of 8 silver and the prospect of learning martial arts, he quit his job and took the test.

And of course.

Morrison had no intention of risking his life for the test.

'Shit, shit, shit.'

Shiver, shiver, shiver.

He trembled.

He was scared.

Seeing the archer nocking the arrow, he wanted to deny the reality that was about to befall him.

'How am I supposed to trust that archer? Even if he is a perfect marksman, he cannot always be perfect, and the cost of his mistake could be my life. I don't want to die. The reason I took this test is to get the chance to become a knight through training as a soldier, not to die pointlessly!'

"Huff, huff."

He breathed heavily.

The first applicant stood in the designated position.

Seeing the applicant as tense as Morrison, Morrison glanced at Roman's expression.

He was calm.

As if nothing was happening.

Seeing that he was not worried about any accidents, Morrison felt a sense of relief.

'So, this is just a simple test. No matter how brave a soldier Roman Demetri wants, he wouldn't want actual deaths during the test. The archer conducting the test is probably a great marksman and won't make any mistakes. That's right. Logically, no one would follow a murderer who drives people to death in a mercenary recruitment test.'

He clenched and unclenched his hands.

They were drenched in sweat.

When he first heard the procedure of the test, he thought it was extreme, but upon further reflection, he believed Chris was intentionally instilling fear.

Fear comes from imagination.

Even if the archer showed perfect accuracy during the test, the moment Chris warned that people might lose their lives, the applicants would be terrified.

It was a battle of will.

If he believed nothing would happen and held on, he was confident the arrows would miss.

'They wouldn't conduct a test that involves seeing blood, right?'

He felt relieved.

Just as he was taking a deep breath to calm down.

Thud!

"Ah!"

The first applicant screamed and fell to the ground.

The first arrow.

It hit the board behind.

But the second arrow deviated from its path and cleanly pierced the first applicant's thigh.

Thud!

"Ah!"

The applicant fell.

The muscular man fell to the ground, screaming, and blood gushed out from the wound like a fountain.

The red blood droplets splattered everywhere.

Chris and the waiting soldiers hurriedly treated the applicant, but the moment they saw the blood, Morrison and the other applicants turned pale.

They saw.

The arrow piercing the thigh.

The archer was not a perfect marksman.

If the arrow had hit the head instead of the thigh, the applicant might have died instantly.

"…Mad."

"Really, you were supposed to be prepared to be hit by arrows?"

"This is ridiculous."

The people were shaken.

Seeing them step back, checking each other's reactions, Chris smiled inwardly.

'As expected.'

The first round.

It was planned.

The archer was a renowned marksman in the area, and the first applicant knew his thigh would be pierced.

He took the test with that knowledge.

They had agreed beforehand that the archer would shoot at a non-fatal part, and Roman paid a substantial reward for it.

It was a good deal.

Even the screaming and writhing on the ground were actions Roman demanded as part of the deal.

Chris checked the condition of the injured and confirmed that it was not a serious injury as planned.

However.

He deliberately showed a serious expression.

As if it were a very dangerous wound, he urgently treated the injury.

'As my lord said, we can't find the people we want with mere verbal threats. We need to show that they must risk their lives. One accident. Even if it happens only once in a hundred, the applicants will be scared by the 1% possibility.'

The fear mechanism is not over yet