Chapter 950

As Beric slowly lifted his head, a shadow fell over him. His mouth hung slightly open, stunned by a sight he had never seen before. So much so that even fighters in other arenas had paused their matches to watch him. Beric’s reaction was perfectly normal under the circumstances.

Rustle.

Ian flipped through the papers, checking the details on Beric’s opponent. Like the enemy Barsabe had faced earlier, this one’s strength lay in ‘physical enhancement.’ But the real problem was—

“It’s an enhanced soldier using necromancy principles,” Ian said.

“Even if discrimination and prejudice against other races and ability users have eased over time… necromancers are still a different story, aren’t they?”

“They’re bound to get rejected, no matter how much they talk about imperial dignity.”

“Look at the expressions on the Imperial Guard’s faces.”

Captain Herchi and the other guards subtly turned their heads, whispering among themselves. They were probably debating whether this candidate met the selection criteria—and if he passed, what to do next.

Rustle.

“Still, judging by his record, he’s definitely an asset to Bariel. He’s from the North, worked as a mercenary, and has been active in monster battles for the past decade.”

“Still, he’s a necromancer. We can’t be sure if he really helped or not.”

They’re scavengers who roam around looking for corpses. Wherever a fight breaks out, they inevitably show up.

Ian shrugged and kept flipping through the papers. Honestly, none of this really mattered. The only thing that decided the outcome was the selection test itself…

“Even if his motives were selfish, he did receive help.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The mage peeked at the documents Ian held. Though the opponent was tricky, there were ways to counter him. The mage glanced at Ian.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell Beric?”

Ian raised an eyebrow as if to say, Are you crazy? and shot the mage a sharp look.

“Oh, scary.”

“Are you joking?”

“Yeah, just kidding.”

This was the prestigious Imperial Joint Recruitment. Mixing personal connections into such a fair test? Ian thought, if only everyone in the Imperial Palace were like him, Bariel would have unified Gaia by now. The mage chuckled softly, draping an arm over Ian’s shoulder as they both stared ahead.

“Look at Beric, all wide-eyed and gawking.”

True to the mage’s words, Beric was still just watching the massive opponent, doing nothing. Barsabe, unable to stand it any longer, threw down her towel and shouted.

“Beric, you idiot! What are you waiting for? Attack already!”

“Oh, right.”

Beric sniffled, gripped his sword, and charged at the enemy. Considering he’d only been training at Count Jacques’ estate for a couple of months, his stance was excellent—solid fundamentals blended with his own sharp, free-flowing style.

“Captain Herchi, is that the kid named Beric?”

Ian had brought him to the estate just a week ago, and already he’d cleaned out the food storage.

Herchi pulled out a cigarette and smiled faintly. Back then, his father had been thrilled to have a new magic swordsman, but soon grew uneasy as his complexion worsened day by day.

“Does he really eat that much?”

“Enough to make his father stingy.”

“Wow, that’s harsh.”

“We’re not that bad.”

If the famously generous Count Jacques had turned stingy, how much was Beric actually eating? Could he really be allowed into the Imperial Palace? If things went wrong, he might even turn the palace chefs against him.

“He’s a bit unusual.”

Herchi muttered as he watched Beric swing his sword diligently. He was definitely a magic swordsman, but something about his ‘nature’ was puzzling. After some investigation, it turned out Beric’s family were all ordinary humans. He didn’t seem to have any non-human blood, yet his behavior was anything but human.

“Should we look into it?”

“No need. If he joins the Imperial Guard, we’ll run tests then.”

Blood tests and magical analyses by the Mage Department would reveal any secrets about the boy immediately.

For now, he was just another commoner from the back alleys. But once he became part of the palace, no doubts could be left unanswered.

“The test is about to start, but it looks like you’ve already got your heart set on the Imperial Guard.”

One of the guards joked, and Herchi smiled warmly at his subordinate.

“Seems so.”

Just watching Beric spar with Barsabe at the estate had convinced him of the boy’s potential.

Herchi exhaled a plume of smoke and refocused on Beric.

Swish!

“Ugh!”

Where Beric’s sword sliced through, black blood spurted out.

Wait, was that really blood? Covered in some strange liquid, Beric gagged and crouched, while his opponent regenerated muscle as if unharmed. All of it necromantic power.

Beric hadn’t cut the real body, but the undead mass surrounding it. He wiped the dark red fragments off his face with his shirt.

“Looks disgusting as hell.”

“You crazy? You’re talking about taste when we’re fighting for our lives? Are you a cannibal?”

“If you’re done, get lost!”

“Even when I try to help, you’re impossible.”

Beric flipped Barsabe the middle finger as she barked warnings from the side, sticking close to his shield. But she didn’t back down, continuing to shout cautions.

“Coming from the side!”

Swish!

The opponent’s first attack—a long, arm-like limb shot out, aiming for Beric’s ribs. Beric tried to dodge easily, but then—

“…!”

Thud!

From that arm sprouted more arms, and from those arms more arms, rapidly expanding into a net of wooden branches.

Caught off guard by the strange attack, Beric faltered, and the enemy seized the moment to stab his side.

“Hey!”

Beric dropped to one knee. Barsabe slapped her forehead in frustration. Beric wiped the blood flowing down his side, his expression dazed.

“Beric! Snap out of it!”

“Shut up for a bit.”

“I told you to study more! Do you even know what that is? A necromancer, Beric!”

“Damn it, why do you keep telling an illiterate to study? Have you forgotten how you got screwed by your grandpa?”

“I said I’d teach you to read! And who got screwed? Everyone knows grandpa took the loss. Do you know how much he regretted signing that contract after seeing how much you eat?”

“I’ll do it once I’m in the Guard!”

“Enough, idiot! Listen carefully. Necromancers—”

“Yeah, stop.”

Beric cut her off, who had been ranting like she wanted to devour him. He pressed his hand hard against his side to ease the pain, then steadied his sword.

“I’ll handle my own business.”

“You…”

Barsabe hesitated. She’d almost crossed a line. This was Beric’s fight, and he was skilled enough to have beaten her twice. She was probably just worried he’d lose and miss his chance to join the Imperial Guard.

“Just watch, pretty girl.”

Beric muttered teasingly and charged again. Barsabe’s serious expression instantly twisted into disgust. She gagged, grabbed her towel, and stepped back.

“Win or die trying.”

“Of course!”

“Then instead of cutting that guy’s tongue, I’ll cut yours.”

“Hahaha, I’m not fighting some loser!”

“You bastard!”

Boom!

The clash between the necromancer and Beric shook the air. A fierce wind roared, dust swirling, but Ian’s protective barrier blocked it, dissipating the chaos in a neat rectangle. It was like a separate world. Barsabe stared at the swirling blade wind right in front of her as if peering into another dimension.

Bang! Pop!

Swish!

The opponent’s attacks stretched endlessly, regenerating constantly—unpredictable and erratic. Could the undead mass even have a will of its own? Their fighting style was completely alien to the living.

Beric exchanged blows, carefully searching for an opening.

‘There has to be a way.’

Barsabe had started to say something but stopped. There must be a solution, but no one knew what it was. Honestly, Beric only had a vague idea of what ‘undead’ really meant.

‘And the smell of blood.’

Damn, it couldn’t be living blood. Putting the pieces together, it was clearly a corpse mass…

Boom!

Is he even human? This is the Imperial Palace, after all. No matter how strong or friendly, they wouldn’t just let a monster in.

Beric glanced at Ian, who held the documents. Ian’s blue eyes shone cold but resolute.

‘He must be human.’

Maybe a shaman or something. But no matter how you looked at the flesh before him, it wasn’t human.

Then where was the ‘human’?

‘Inside.’

Inside that mass of flesh, like a larva using a corpse as a shell, endlessly attacking and regenerating.

If that’s the case…

‘There must be a weak point.’

Or some kind of core.

Just like his first victory when he landed a punch square on Barsabe’s jaw, if he found the right spot and struck precisely, he could win. And that spot was probably the hidden core beneath the flesh—the true ‘human’ inside.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, probably,” Beric muttered, tilting his head in doubt. As if responding, his opponent launched a relentless barrage of attacks. Then, their hands began to merge and shift, forming a massive fist.

“Whoa.”

A fist the size of a carriage.

The other participants watching couldn’t hide their shock, their mouths hanging open.

KRAAAASH!

Beric dodged as best he could, but the speed was no joke. When the giant fist slammed into the shield, Ian furrowed his brow slightly.

‘That’s some serious power.’

The faint tremor even transmitted through to him. Beric rolled several times to evade, but in such a confined space, avoiding an attack that took up so much volume was nearly impossible.

Sssshhh!

“Ah—”

And then—

KRAAAASH!

The enormous fist came crashing down, crushing Beric’s entire body. Barsabe turned his head away, unable to watch, while Ian squinted one eye.

“Beric!”

“He’s done for. Healer, get ready.”

“Understood.”

Barsabe’s shout was met with the healers stepping forward, bracing themselves. The giant fist slowly lifted again. Beneath it, Beric lay battered and bloodied, half-conscious and crushed.

“Hey, you okay?”

A test official approached Beric, but he didn’t respond. After several attempts, just as the official was about to blow the whistle—

“Ah, damn it.”

Thwack.

Beric tapped the shield with his finger, signaling to stop.

“…I can still fight.”

“You’re in bad shape.”

“You don’t know anything. I know my condition best. Damn it, this really hurts.”

Spitting, Beric staggered to his feet and tried to grab his sword again. But it was completely shattered, reduced to scrap metal.

Since weapon changes were forbidden mid-test, Beric had no choice but to fight barehanded now.

“Captain.”

“Ian.”

The palace guard and the mage called out to Herchi and Ian simultaneously, as if asking what to do next.

But both remained still, watching Beric without a word.

“Rules are rules. If you can’t overcome it, this is where it ends.”

Herchi’s words.

“If it’s your limit, then so be it.”

Ian’s words.

Beric seemed to hear them, a bitter smile curling on his lips as he stretched out his right hand into the air.

Zzzzzing! Zzing!

“…!”

Barsabe’s eyes widened.

A massive flame burst from Beric’s hand.

“You picked the wrong fight! I’m gonna pay you back double—!”

KRAAAASH!

The sword, known as the ‘second awakening’ of the flame mage.

Beric swung the blazing, crimson blade fiercely and leapt forward once more.