Chapter 20

Mad Swordsman of the Shadow World (20)

The tally results were announced that afternoon at the grand training ground.

With nearly five hundred trainees lined up by section, the instructors stood in a row atop the platform.

The atmosphere of the training ground was unsettled.

Because rumors left behind by last night’s exam were drifting quietly through the ranks.

Section 1 and Section 3 had supposedly clashed head-on.

Someone had supposedly swept up all the tokens in the middle of it.

And... Isaac had supposedly lost.

By the time the final rumor was mentioned, everyone shook their heads.

Because to the trainees of Hell Island, Isaac losing was no different from saying the sun had risen in the west.

“According to the tally results, each section’s meal grade and training assignments will be adjusted. Everyone, silence.”

At the instructor’s shout, the commotion died down.

“From this moment, we will announce the results of the second exam, Token Defense.”

The instructor in charge of the announcement unfolded the documents.

A heavy silence descended over the training ground.

“5th place. Section 2. Total score: 18 points.”

“4th place. Section 4. Total score: 21 points.”

Up to this point, there was nothing surprising.

The problem began with what came next.

“3rd place... Section 1. Total score: 24 points.”

“What?”

“Section 1 is third?”

A stir broke out.

Section 1, which always competed for the lead in every exam, was third.

Then the only ones remaining were Section 3 and...

“2nd place. Section 3. Total score: 32 points.”

Everyone in the training ground froze.

Because inside the trainees’ minds, only one calculation remained, one that should have been impossible.

Even the instructor making the announcement briefly checked the documents again.

And...

The instructor swallowed dryly.

Five hundred pairs of eyes focused on his mouth.

In Section 5’s ranks, Renil was trembling while clutching Perka’s sleeve beside him.

“1st place... Section 5. Total score, 46 points.”

“...”

Silence.

No one could speak.

A fourteen-point difference from second place.

It was not even a close match, but an overwhelming first place.

“N-No way. Section 5?”

“The perennial last place got first?”

“Isn’t the tally wrong?”

The belated commotion erupted and covered the training ground.

It was not only the trainees.

Even the instructors atop the platform exchanged looks and murmured among themselves.

The hierarchy that had remained unchanged since enrollment had been overturned in a single night.

“Quiet.”

At Berton’s single word, the commotion stopped instantly.

“If anyone has an objection to the result, speak now.”

“...”

As if anyone could.

Everyone stared at Berton with shocked expressions.

Berton swept his characteristic cold gaze over the trainees and spoke decisively.

“Then with this, the results of the second exam are finalized.”

Finalized.

The moment that word fell.

“Waaaaaaaah!”

A roar erupted from Section 5’s ranks.

“First place! We’re first place!”

“Renil, are you crying?”

“Who’s crying! Something got in my eye!”

“Waaaah! It’s the first time since enrollment that we’re not last...!”

Some shouted until their throats nearly burst, while others hugged the person beside them and jumped up and down.

Perennial last place.

A den of half-wits.

In a single night, they had thrown off those names of contempt.

The trainees embraced one another and jumped around.

At the center of it all, Perka lightly struck Theron’s shoulder.

“...It’s thanks to you.”

“No.”

Theron shook his head.

“I set the stage, but you were the ones who endured.”

At that short answer, Perka gave a faint laugh.

And the gazes of the trainees from the other sections who watched the scene were complicated.

Jealousy, disbelief, wariness.

But beneath all those emotions lay the same name.

Theron.

The protagonist of the rumor that he had defeated Isaac.

An unknown trainee who had raised the perennial last-place Section 5 to the top overnight.

The hierarchy of Hell Island was being silently rewritten.

But then, someone strode through Section 5’s commotion.

It was Isaac.

For a moment, the cheering Section 5 trainees froze.

The king of Section 3, who until yesterday had stood at the top of the training camp, had walked into the ranks of the last-place section with his own feet.

Ignoring the surrounding gazes, Isaac stopped in front of Theron.

“Congratulations on first place.”

“...Thanks.”

“Because of you, we’re second.”

Isaac grinned and held out his hand.

Theron took it.

A brief handshake.

But the entire training ground stirred at the sight.

Because that single handshake proved the rumor was true.

“Get your body ready before the next exam.”

Isaac released his hand and turned away.

“I’m coming to collect my debt.”

Watching Isaac’s retreating back, Renil swallowed dryly.

“Hey... did you really fight him and win?”

“Who knows.”

“What do you mean, who knows! He literally just admitted it himself!”

At those words, Theron merely gave a faint smile and watched Isaac’s back as he walked away.

__________________

Below the platform immediately after the announcement ended.

The instructors gathered one by one around Bengle.

“Instructor Bengle. What on earth did you do?”

“Did you change your training methods? Or give them special instruction?”

“Share the secret with our sections too.”

How long had it been?

No, it was the first time since this class of trainees had enrolled.

That his fellow instructors had surrounded him and asked questions like these.

For the first time, envious gazes were falling upon the instructor of the last-place section, who had always received mocking consolation from the corner whenever tally results were announced.

“Ahem, ahem. Well... there’s no real secret.”

Bengle cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders.

“The kids followed well. What did I really do?”

Though he said that, he could not hide the twitching corners of his lips.

And that evening.

Bengle called Theron behind Section 5’s barracks.

“...A promise is a promise.”

Bengle’s expression was badly twisted.

It was a face that even he could not tell whether it was from frustration or happiness.

Bengle looked at Theron and said.

“I’ll be honest. I thought it would be a miracle if you even made the top three.”

“So, are both my arms safe?”

“...You bastard.”

Bengle ground his teeth, then finally let out a laugh.

“Follow me. The armory... I’ll open it for you.”

“Right now?”

“I’m the type who sleeps better after paying off a gambling debt as quickly as possible. And...”

Bengle lowered his voice.

“It’s better to move before the rumors spread. Starting today... quite a few eyes are going to be fixed on you.”

________________

The armory was located beneath the main building of the training camp.

After descending a staircase trainees were forbidden to enter and passing through a long, dark corridor, it stood at a dead end.

Bengle took out a key and unlocked three locks one after another.

Creeeeak.

As the rusted iron door opened, air that had been trapped for years spilled out along with the smell of dust.

When Bengle lit a lamp, the interior of the armory was revealed.

Swords and spears covering the walls.

Armor and shields piled on every shelf.

Weapons accumulated over decades since the founding of Hell Island slept in the darkness.

“Choose. Exactly one.”

Bengle crossed his arms as he spoke.

“I’ll tell you beforehand, you can’t take anything from the upper shelves inside. Those are for instructors. Trainees are only allowed to choose from this area.”

Even the permitted area was more than enough.

Well-forged swords.

Spears stamped with the marks of renowned craftsmen.

They were filled with items that would make any young trainee’s eyes widen.

But Theron walked past every glittering item.

‘Weapons other than the issued ones can’t be used anyway.’

There was no reason to pay attention to them now. Besides, he had come here wanting something in particular from the beginning.

Theron looked around as he searched for ‘that’ which he had heard about in the past.

Before long, he stopped in one corner of the armory.

In front of a shelf where miscellaneous magic tools were piled together haphazardly.

Faded rings, cracked protective ornaments, accessories of unknown purpose.

A graveyard of objects whose usefulness was uncertain and which had failed to find owners for decades.

Theron’s hand dug through the pile and lifted one item.

It was a bracelet.

A silver bracelet tarnished black.

Fine patterns were engraved across its surface, but grime had built up so heavily that their shapes were difficult to distinguish.

‘Found it...!’

The somewhat faded condition did not matter.

The pattern matched perfectly with what he had heard.

When Theron picked up the bracelet, Bengle approached.

“...What’s that?”

Bengle came closer, glanced at the bracelet, and looked dumbfounded.

“Ah, that thing. I know that one too. The Bracelet of Warmth or something... It’s just junk that keeps your body warm while you wear it. Might be somewhat useful in winter... Don’t tell me you’re actually choosing that when all these good items are here?”

Bengle looked absurdly at him and turned his gaze elsewhere.

“That necklace over there...”

“I’ll take this.”

“What?”

Bengle’s eyes widened.

“Hey, you idiot. Don’t you see those swords stamped with craftsmen’s marks? Sure, you can’t use them during training, but if you think about later, a single sword would be a hundred times better. You made that wager just to get some damn hand warmer?”

“I get cold easily in winter.”

“Y-You bastard, are you making fun of me...!”

Bengle grabbed the back of his neck, but Theron calmly slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

The cold touch of metal.

And before long, faint lukewarm warmth spread outward.

On the surface, that really was all the item did.

‘...Right. That’s what everyone thought.’

But Theron knew.

The true nature of this bracelet.

A magic amplification tool that doubled the efficiency of cultivation.

In his previous life, the bastard who owned this bracelet had climbed in only three years what took others ten years to achieve.

Theron did not know exactly how this item, which later left the armory of Hell Island, had eventually fallen into that bastard’s hands.

But he knew exactly how to unlock its hidden function.

Following the grain of the pattern, mana had to be sent through it in the reverse order of the cultivation method.

A key no one would ever think to try—flowing mana backward through a tool designed to gather mana.

That was why for decades, the bracelet had slept in this armory while being treated as nothing more than a hand warmer.

‘The item that helped you break through your wall... I’ll take it first.’

A cold smile passed across Theron’s lips.

That bastard who had once been a comrade, but betrayed him and left.

‘That bastard’s growth... will have no choice but to slow down now.’

Someday... there would surely come a day when they met again.

Theron fiddled with the bracelet fastened around his wrist.

Seeing that, Bengle sighed and waved his hand dismissively.

“Fine, fine. Whether it’s a hand warmer or whatever, it’s your fate.”

Bengle soon locked the armory door. But then...

“By the way. I’ve been curious about this for a while... The very existence of the armory is a secret from the trainees. How did you know about it and use it as the stake in your wager?”

It was a sharp question.

But Theron’s answer came without the slightest hesitation.

“The things instructors say while drinking carry farther than you might think.”

“...What?”

“Especially since your voice tends to be rather loud, Instructor.”

“Y-You bastard...!”

Bengle’s face turned bright red.

Apparently something came to mind.

“Your ears are unnecessarily sharp...! Enough, let’s go up!”

Behind Bengle, who walked ahead while grumbling, Theron smiled faintly.

It was not a lie.

The mouth of a drunk was always the best source of information.

The only difference was that he had heard that story in his previous life.

Theron’s steps as he followed Bengle out were lighter than before.