Chapter 949

“How are things on the civilian participant side?”

Ian, flipping through some documents, answered the mage’s question.

“We’re checking each participant one by one, but so far, no one shows any sign of being a magic user or a magic swordsman.”

The air was thick with tension, almost to the point of bursting, as the upcoming duels were about to begin. Barsabe and Beric had each gone to their respective areas to warm up, pray solemnly, or hurl insults at their opponents—each preparing in their own way.

“There were supposed to be about five thousand participants this time, right?”

“That’s correct. But from what I’ve seen today, it looks like there might be a few more than expected.”

“And yet, not a single one shows any real talent…”

The mage muttered, clearly frustrated. Ian added, “I’ll go double-check myself.”

“Good. Let’s cross-verify. Over there, it’s just a bunch of slackers.”

If the mages near the civilian testing grounds had overheard that, they’d have protested immediately. But Ian just smiled faintly and nodded.

“Well, at least we’ve secured two magic swordsmen this time. That’s a decent haul for the exam.”

He was referring to Barsabe and Beric. The mage scratched his forehead at the end of the paperwork and grumbled, “Good for the Royal Palace Guard, I guess.”

The Magic Department had recently lost two comrades. Beyond the aching void in their hearts, the physical shortage of manpower had put the department on high alert. Because of that, the long-standing rule of “Ian doesn’t work overtime” at the arena had finally been broken.

“If the Royal Palace Guard grows stronger, that’s good for us too.”

“Ian, sometimes you sound way too mature for your age.”

“Do I?”

Ian smiled lightly, not denying it, leaving the mage momentarily speechless.

Suddenly, a whistle blew somewhere—a signal that the exam was starting. Ian and the mages raised protective barriers around the prearranged fighting arenas.

Ziiing! Ziiing!

They separated the space into twenty independent sections, each with its own shield. Those seeing it for the first time curiously reached out to touch the shimmering walls, and soon, staff began giving instructions.

“Once you enter, you cannot leave until the match is decided. The barriers cannot be broken by any means, so participants should give their all to demonstrate their abilities.”

“What if someone breaks it? Do I get to collect the prize then?”

A rough-looking man knocked on the barrier with a grin. His arrogant attitude made the staff’s expression twitch. A nearby mage smiled warmly and explained:

“If anyone breaks the barrier, they’ll pass with top honors immediately, regardless of the rest of the exam.”

“Really? For real?”

“Of course. Right, Ian?”

Ian nodded slightly in response to the mage’s question.

Though the mages were working together, Ian was the one maintaining the core, distributing his magic to keep the barriers intact. Breaking the barrier would mean overcoming Ian’s magic. If someone who wasn’t even a mage could suppress the power of a genius like Ian, they’d be whisked away immediately. If only it were possible.

“That sounds great.”

“No more days of hellish overtime.”

“Hey, don’t just focus on breaking the barrier! I’m your opponent!”

“Well, I can multitask, right? Hahaha!”

The participants couldn’t hide their excitement.

Barsabe clicked her tongue in disdain as she strapped on her gauntlets. Looking at them, they all seemed like street thugs who’d relied solely on their powers to get by.

“Hey, pretty one. Let’s make this last a while, yeah?”

Her opponent greeted her with a sly smile. Barsabe didn’t respond verbally but drew her sword instead.

From the other side, Beric pressed his face against the barrier and shouted as if hearing nonsense.

“Pretty one? That guy’s got something wrong with his eyes! Barsabe! If you lose to a jerk like that, you might as well jump off that bridge over there.”

“Shut up and mind your own business.”

Barsabe took a deep breath and stepped into the arena. From the distant second floor, she could see the Royal Palace Guard watching the match—people she’d known since childhood, like uncles and aunts.

And most importantly—

‘Father.’

Captain Hertzi stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on Barsabe.

She gripped her sword’s hilt tightly, determined to show everything she had here.

Swish.

“Alright, shall we begin? Pretty one?”

“…I think I’ll start by cutting off that tongue of yours.”

“What?”

In the blink of an eye, Barsabe closed the distance. Her eyes flashed brightly as magic swirled around her.

The man felt the blade’s energy slicing toward his side and reflexively activated his ability.

“…!”

“Close call?”

The man blocked Barsabe’s sword with his bare hand, which had transformed into steel. He was a power user who could alter parts of his body to strengthen them.

Barsabe quickly twisted her waist to strike the other side, but this time his entire side had turned to steel. Her blade bounced off uselessly, revealing black metallic skin beneath his torn clothes.

“Hahaha! Miss, sorry, but if you don’t want to get hurt, you should give up now! It’d be a shame to scar that pretty face of yours.”

Barsabe confirmed her blade had been deflected. She clicked her tongue, discarded her sword, and drew a dagger from her waist.

The man swaggered forward slowly and arrogantly, confident he couldn’t be cut. So, victory was his, wasn’t it?

“…”

Barsabe clasped the dagger with both hands, studying him carefully. Then, moving at lightning speed, she circled him, stabbing wildly to find a weakness.

Thrust! Thrust!

Swish!

But the man’s steel body didn’t bleed a drop. Instead, as if offering a chance to a lady, he raised both hands and hummed a carefree tune.

Swish! Ssssh!

The Magic Department and Royal Palace Guard observers whispered simultaneously.

“A tough opponent. If he were a mage, maybe, but a magic swordsman would have a hard time.”

“Do you think Barsabe can even summon her sword?”

“Not sure. Captain, what do you think?”

Hertzi remained silent, arms crossed.

Meanwhile, the Magic Department watched Barsabe’s struggle with concern.

“Ugh, I’d just burn the bastard to ashes.”

“Ian, Barsabe won’t lose, right?”

“Well, since none of her attacks are landing, it’s probably going to be a war of attrition. Isn’t this exactly the part Barsabe is weakest at?”

Ian leaned on the railing, studying Barsabe’s attacks closely. Her sword moved faster than lightning, wrapping around her opponent like the wind. Watching quietly, a smile crept onto Ian’s lips.

“It’s okay. She’s figuring it out now.”

“Figuring it out? What do you mean?”

The mages narrowed their eyes, watching Ian intently, but they couldn’t tell what he meant. All they saw was a frustrating scene of relentless, ineffective attacks.

“Getting bored yet, miss? How about we stop and go play outside?”

The man raised his hands arrogantly and yawned, just as—

Thunk!

The dagger plunged into his mouth. Reflexively, his body turned to steel, and he wasn’t hurt.

Everyone was surprised by the unexpected move—everyone except Barsabe. She twisted the dagger with a click and muttered,

“…He only reacts to sharp attacks, huh?”

She’d realized that his steel transformation only activated against cutting attacks. The man with the iron tongue blinked in confusion.

Whoosh!

Pow!

If that’s the case, swords are useless against him. Barsabe drove her fist into his abdomen, then spun and delivered a powerful back kick to his face.

Swish!

Thud!

The man, dagger still clenched in his mouth, flew backward, crashing into the barrier. The sheer force was unbelievable for a woman’s body. The man shivered down his spine, spat out the dagger, and tried to get up—

“Stay down.”

Barsabe slammed her knee into his jaw.

“…!”

The man instinctively knew he’d lost. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t win.

But by the time he realized it, it was too late. Barsabe showed no mercy, raining down punches and finally sitting on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his neck in a chokehold.

Crack.

“Guh, guh-ack, chh…”

The man struggled, slapping Barsabe’s arm to break free, but she held tight, unmoving.

About twenty seconds passed before his eyes rolled back, his body went limp, and he collapsed unconscious. Barsabe grabbed his hair and whispered so only he could hear:

“Told you I’d cut your tongue out.”

Sweat poured down her face and neck like rain. She’d expended tremendous energy in a short time, and the explosive strength she’d used to subdue him was astonishing.

The observers’ eyes gleamed. Though she hadn’t defeated him with her sword, the fight had clearly shown what a formidable warrior she was.

“Ian.”

Ian called to Barsabe, who smiled while still holding the man’s hair.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

Damn it. I’d love to just cut him down, but you never know—he might end up as a fellow palace guard. Barsabe slammed his fist into the guy’s mouth one last time before standing up.

“Number 134, test complete. Barsabe wins, Alkaeman loses.”

As the examiner blew the whistle to announce the result, Ian withdrew the protective barrier. At the same time, the healers flew over to check on the man’s condition.

Wiping sweat from his brow with a towel, Barsabe glanced up toward the second floor, where his father was watching.

A sly grin spread across his face.

Barsabe flashed a peace sign with his fingers, and Herch shrugged his shoulders, wearing a smile that was hard to read—was it pride, approval, or just amusement at the troublemaker?

“Barsabe, well done! Damn right, that’s the kind of fight I expect from my man.”

Beric pressed his face against the protective barrier, cheering loudly. Barsabe wiped his sweat and looked over at him.

“What are you doing?”

“You haven’t even started while I’m already done?”

Unlike the other arenas, where explosions and loud crashes echoed nonstop, Beric’s fight area was eerily quiet. Barsabe accepted his certificate and glanced at Beric’s opponent.

“No idea. I want to fight too, but my opponent isn’t responding.”

“Is that even a person?”

“Doesn’t look like something you can eat, either.”

A sluggish, shapeless mass of thick liquid was clumped together.

Barsabe frowned, while the mages and palace guards checked their documents, clicking their tongues in disapproval.

“Ah, so that’s Beric’s opponent…”

“That thing shouldn’t be given any time at all.”

Beric, bored, sat down on the floor and poked the opponent with the tip of his sword.

“Hey, come on. Let’s actually fight now. I wanted to finish before Barsabe, but this is just ridiculous—”

Then it happened. The quiet blob of liquid began to writhe and suddenly started swelling. Slowly, steadily, and seemingly without end, it grew larger and larger.

Watching this, Ian muttered under his breath.

“…Recalibrating protective barrier area.”

A massive body towering over ten meters tall. A mouth dripping with toxic liquid…

Beric stared up dumbfounded, tilting his head without realizing it.

“Huh?”

…Is that even a person?