Chapter 21

Mad Swordsman of the Shadow World (21)

That night.

At a time when everyone in the dormitory was asleep.

Theron sat alone on his bed, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist.

A silver band tarnished black.

During the day, just as Bengle had said, it had been nothing more than a piece of junk that gave off a lukewarm warmth.

But from now on, it was different.

‘Shall I check?’

Theron rubbed the bracelet with his sleeve, wiping away the grime.

Fine patterns emerged in the darkness.

They intertwined like vines, forming a single unbroken line that wrapped all the way around the bracelet.

Theron closed his eyes and calmed his breathing.

The mana of Dark Tempest awakened in his heart and began flowing along the pathways of his body.

For ordinary cultivation, simply circulating it along the established path would be enough.

But the key to opening the bracelet was the opposite.

‘The mana cultivation method... in reverse.’

Exhale where he should inhale, release where he should gather.

Going against the flow that had been engraved into his body over a lifetime.

Even if his mind understood it, his body instinctively rejected the sensation.

“...Urgh.”

His first attempt fell apart before it even reached his wrist.

The backflowing mana scraped through the mana circuits of his arm, and a tingling pain shot all the way up to his shoulder.

Theron held his breath and checked the beds beside him.

Perka was turned toward the wall, and Renil's snoring remained steady.

‘...Good.’

Even with a body that had handled countless mana cultivation methods in his previous life, it was this difficult.

An ordinary trainee would have damaged their mana circuits from the first backflow and been bedridden for days.

‘As expected... this isn't something just anyone can open.’

It was this difficult even knowing the method.

For someone who did not even know the method, it could only remain a hand warmer forever.

Theron swallowed the pain and steadied his breathing again.

A second time, then a third.

Little by little, he accustomed his body to the sensation of reverse flow and drew out a strand of mana as thin as thread.

And on the fourth attempt.

The thin thread of reverse-flowing mana touched the starting point of the pattern.

Along the line, slowly.

Tracing each bend of the vine one by one, the mana flowed over the pattern.

Half a turn.

One full turn.

And then the thread of mana reached the end of the pattern and touched the starting point.

Hummm.

The bracelet gave a low hum.

The pattern buried beneath the grime began to glow faintly from within.

A pale light resembling moonlight, gentle rather than dazzling.

The light soon faded, but the sensation of the bracelet had completely changed.

The lukewarm warmth disappeared, replaced by a cool, almost living pulse that wrapped around his wrist.

‘It's open.’

Theron immediately sat cross-legged and began cultivating properly.

The moment the flow of Dark Tempest began circulating through his body.

“...!”

His eyes nearly snapped open.

The mana in the air was seeping into his body at nearly twice its usual density.

And that was not all.

The rough mana entering his body passed through the bracelet and was finely filtered, settling into the flow of his mana cultivation method as smoothly as running water.

One full circulation.

Twice as much mana as he would normally have accumulated in that time steadily settled into the mana hole in his lower abdomen.

‘This is...’

The rumors had not been exaggerated.

No, if anything, they had been modest.

Climb a staircase of ten years in three.

Theron was now confirming the weight of those words with his own body.

‘The Blood Jade Fruit widened the vessel... and this bracelet doubles the speed at which I fill it.’

Things he had possessed none of in his previous life.

In this life, all of them had gathered at the starting point.

All that remained was time.

If there was anything he had to be careful about, it was that he absolutely could not be discovered.

If his mana rose too quickly, someone would notice the change.

Growing stronger while maintaining the appropriate line.

For now, that was the most important thing.

And...

‘Later... once I leave this place.’

Theron closed his eyes with a calm expression.

For now, it was time to hide his anger and continue building his strength.

Theron continued cultivating deep into the night.

Until the moon outside the window sank low and the snoring in the dormitory began to fade.

Inside the old room.

A pale light resembling moonlight quietly flickered around the boy's wrist.

_____________

The next morning.

The Section 5 trainees who entered the dining hall could not believe their eyes.

“Wh-What is this...”

The things laid out on their trays.

Stew with meat.

Freshly baked bread and boiled eggs.

Where there had been nothing but watery porridge and hard pieces of bread until yesterday, there was now a proper steaming meal.

“First-place meals...”

“This is what those Section 3 bastards were eating every day?”

Someone gulped, while someone else already had tears welling in their eyes.

“Let's eat! Before it gets cold!”

At Renil's shout, the sound of spoons striking dishes swept across Section 5's table like a storm.

“Uoooh... meat. I'm actually chewing meat.”

“Eat slowly. You'll choke.”

Even as Perka warned him, his own spoon was moving faster than anyone else's.

“Tioren, if you're not eating your egg, give it to me.”

“I'm going to eat it.”

“You haven't touched it this whole time!”

“I'm saving it.”

Even Tioren, who was usually quiet, was bickering over a single egg.

Amid the commotion, Theron quietly spooned up his stew.

The warm broth slid down his throat.

‘...Meal grades.’

It was not simply a matter of food.

For trainees in the middle of growing, what they ate directly affected their bodies, and their bodies were the vessels that held mana.

As long as they maintained first-place meals, the growth rate of all of Section 5 would change.

What they had gained from the Token Defense exam was not merely honor.

And the atmosphere in the dining hall was different from yesterday as well.

“Hey, over there... Section 5.”

“Is that the guy who beat Isaac?”

Glances flickered toward them.

Instead of yesterday's mockery and contempt, gazes mixed with wariness and curiosity hovered around Section 5's table.

On Hell Island, a change in how people looked at you meant a change in the hierarchy.

But not every gaze contained curiosity.

On the way out of the dining hall.

Three large trainees blocked Section 5's path.

The emblem of Section 1.

The one standing in the middle had scratches across his face, as though he had been scraped by a log the previous night.

“Hey, Section 5.”

The boy bared his teeth and glared at Theron.

“You got lucky and took first once, and now you're getting arrogant? You cowards hid during the exam and stole everything.”

“...”

“Don't think you'll get away with it in the next exam. And you.”

His finger pointed at Theron's chest.

“Did you start that bullshit rumor about beating Isaac? Let's see just how impressive you really are...”

“Move.”

The one who cut him off was not Theron.

Isaac had approached without anyone noticing and lightly tapped the Section 1 trainee's shoulder as he passed.

“Because it's not a bullshit rumor.”

“...I-Isaac?”

“And one word of advice.”

Without stopping, Isaac tossed the words over his shoulder.

“If you're going to mess with that guy, write your will first.”

The faces of the Section 1 trainees turned white.

At that single remark left personally by the strongest trainee in the training camp, the spark of conflict died before anyone even needed to stamp it out.

“...Hey, did Isaac just stand up for you?”

Renil asked with a dumbfounded expression, but Theron merely shrugged.

‘He wasn't standing up for me... He was probably telling them not to touch his prey.’

Either way, there was nothing bad about it.

______________

Morning training consisted of running.

The Section 5 formation circling the training ground had the same number of trainees and followed the same course as yesterday.

But there was a different weight to their footsteps.

“One! Two! One! Two!”

There was strength behind their cadence, and no one fell behind.

Instead of the resignation of being the last-place section, pride in being the first-place section was pulling the formation forward.

Watching them, Bengle stood with his arms crossed and muttered.

“...Good grief. Food really is frightening.”

He said that, but Bengle knew.

The root of that change was not the food.

Bengle's gaze shifted to one point in the formation.

Not the front, nor the rear, but the middle.

A boy quietly matching the others' pace from a position where he would not stand out.

‘Theron... just what the hell are you?’

The more Bengle watched him train, the larger that question became.

The boy had never once gone all out.

Whether running or practicing swordsmanship, he always stopped somewhere around the upper ranks.

Yet the nature of that ‘somewhere around’ was fundamentally different from everyone else.

It did not feel as though he was hiding his strength... but rather that he was deciding for himself exactly how much strength to use.

‘Whatever. He's the bastard who made my section first place.’

Bengle shook his head and dismissed the thought.

Even if he questioned him, he would obviously only get some slippery answer in return.

“Everyone, halt in place! Next is basic wooden swordsmanship! Split into groups!”

The training continued.

The same routine as always.

But inside Theron's body, something different from usual was circulating.

The mana he had accumulated at twice the normal rate overnight flowed smoothly through his mana circuits with every movement.

‘At this speed...’

The wall of the 3rd Star was not far away.

No, even beyond that.

Theron was calculating silently when it happened.

A man in a black uniform walked in through the entrance of the training ground.

An enforcer.

The atmosphere of the training ground sank in an instant.

The feet of trainees who had been running slowed one by one, and their gazes turned toward the black uniform.

It was exceedingly rare for an enforcer to appear personally at a training ground.

The enforcer walked straight to Bengle and briefly told him something.

Bengle's expression hardened.

“...Right now?”

“It's the chief instructor's order.”

Bengle furrowed his brow and turned toward the formation.

“Section 5, Theron! Step forward!”

The formation stirred.

Theron quietly stepped out of line and stood before the two men.

“The chief instructor is calling for you.”

At the enforcer's words, the eyes of the surrounding trainees widened.

Chief Instructor Berton.

To the trainees of Hell Island, his name was like the heavens themselves.

“Follow me.”

The enforcer turned around.

“Did that bastard do something wrong?”

“Wh-Why would the chief instructor call someone from Section 5...”

“I don't know. It's not like he's going to reward him.”

Whispers spread through the formation.

Bengle looked at Theron with concern.

A summons delivered through an enforcer.

And immediately after the exam, at that.

It looked far more like something bad than something good.

But Theron merely gave a faint nod and calmly followed after him.

‘Finally... he's making his move.’

The summons had come neither earlier nor later than expected.

As he left the training ground, Theron quietly organized the cards in his hand.

What Berton had seen, what he suspected, and what he wanted.

And how far Theron would allow himself to be caught in the old fox's net, and from what point he would begin climbing along it instead.

There was no fear.

He had seen inside the man named Berton far too many times in his previous life.

The bastard coveted useful blades, and he spared no investment in blades he coveted.

Until those blades slipped from his grasp.

Before long, they arrived outside the chief instructor's office in the main building.

When the enforcer knocked on the door, a low voice came from inside.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

Beyond the desk, Berton was staring at Theron over his clasped hands.

In his previous life.

The traitor who had held a sword to his throat was now looking at him with eyes filled with interest.

“Sit.”

Berton gestured toward the chair opposite him.

Theron quietly sat down.

He made the face of a nervous trainee, but not excessively so.

Showing reverence, but keeping fear restrained.

Theron knew precisely what expression a twelve-year-old summoned before the chief instructor should make.

Berton's gaze swept over Theron for a long while.

Assessing eyes.

Eyes weighing him on a scale.

At last, those thin lips opened.

“I enjoyed watching this exam.”

“...Thank you.”

“Section 5 taking first place. It's the first time that's happened since this island was established. But you see.”

Berton rested his chin atop his clasped hands.

“What I found interesting wasn't the ranking.”

His cold eyes bored directly into Theron's.

“I have... a proposal for you.”