The first round of the examination had just ended. The first sixty candidates had already gathered on the arena esplanade, indifferent to the fate of those who had not yet passed this stage. Among those chosen, all the members of the St. Patrick family figured prominently, a remarkable feat, greeted by some murmurs from the crowd.
As the excitement of the spectators' cheers and the hubbub of the participants raged, a powerful voice suddenly rose. As soon as it rang out, a heavy silence fell, as if the air itself had frozen.
"Dear apprentices," the voice declared authoritatively, "after having brilliantly overcome the first round, a thousand-kilometer race, you are now officially recognized as student swordsmen. My sincere congratulations."
She continued:
"Now that this stage is behind you, we will begin the test that will determine which of you will become Master Swordsmen."
A brief, dramatic silence fell before he declared gravely:
"This test will be a battle."
Immediately, portals appeared in front of each of the sixty participants, and mysterious badges materialized in their hands.
"You will pass through the portals placed in front of you. They will teleport you to various regions of the kingdom. There, you will have to face the opponent you find there, while protecting the badge you have just received. If you manage to defeat him, you will be able to take his badge." Of course, if you prefer to avoid a duel against an opponent who is too formidable, you are free to turn to another competitor…"
The voice paused, then added in a more solemn tone:
"You will simply need to return with an additional badge, in addition to yours, to complete the test. Those who succeed will be elevated to the rank of Master Swordsman. All means are permitted during the duels. Kills are not required, but are still permitted. The duration of this test is limited to four hours."
The speaker finally concluded:
"Once you have both badges, infuse them with a portion of your ART. This will create a portal that will bring you back here."
Amazement immediately spread through the ranks of the participants. Disbelieving whispers arose from all sides:
"We must fight each other?"
"Fight each other?"
"Murders are permitted?"
But the implacable voice continued:
"Be aware, however, that, as in the previous trial, creatures will also be present in your path. Their sole objective will be to destroy your badges. You must therefore not only defeat your opponents, but also protect your insignia against these threats... Only those who manage to return here within the allotted time will be consecrated Master Swordsmen."
When the voice faded, the crowd of spectators erupted into even louder cheers than before. Among the sixty participants, reactions were mixed: some showed apprehension, others stamped their feet with impatience, while a few, with dark eyes, seemed to harbor sinister thoughts as they stared at their rivals.
"This means we might have to fight each other... What should I do if fate forces me to fight one of my brothers?" Bertrand mused, anguish in his heart.
As for Kyriel, a single thought now occupied his entire mind: to become a Master Swordsman.
"I desire with all my being to reach the rank of Master Swordsman... But if, to achieve that, I must raise my sword against my own family, then I will undoubtedly have to give up this dream..." he mused, his face marked with worry.
At that precise moment, the thunderous voice rang out again, imperious:
"GO!!"
Without waiting, the participants rushed one by one through the portals that appeared before them. When Kyriel stepped through his own, he found himself thrust into an arid region, a vast desert where sand stretched as far as the eye could see. An oppressive heat weighed on the landscape, so intense that for a moment he thought his skin was burning.
"What a furnace... I'd better find another participant as quickly as possible and grab their badge, before I die of thirst in this hell of sand..." he murmured, walking with a determined stride.
But soon, the voice's words came back to him:
"Wait a second... He said you have to infuse ART into the badges to activate the return portal... How am I supposed to do that when I haven't awakened any element of my ART yet?" he wondered, his brow furrowed in incomprehension.
"And besides... How did I pass the first test? It was indeed about a thousand-kilometer race and creatures to face... But all I remember is going through a portal. I don't remember running or fighting..."
"Did I awaken my ART then? Could it be similar to what happened during my training with Master Keith? Could it have happened again... without my knowledge?"
"I'm convinced of it now." I did indeed awaken the element of my ART… but for some unknown reason, my memory hid it from me," he concluded, continuing his walk through the burning desert.
Time passed. Kyriel had been walking through these hostile lands for an hour now, his mind entirely absorbed by the nature of his inner energy.
"So, that means… What is my element?" he thought, his eyes widening, as he stopped in his tracks.
Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed behind him.
"BOOM!"
as if a titanic mass had crashed to the ground. But it wasn't an inanimate object… It was a man.
It was none other than Thorne.
"I finally found you," he declared, a mischievous smile on his lips.
"It took me an hour to locate you... But in the meantime, I haven't been bored," he added, throwing about twenty badges to the ground, his smile widening with sinister pride.
"All those badges...? What are you doing with so many? Wasn't it necessary to collect just one to pass the test?" Kyriel asked, both stunned and slightly concerned.
Thorne replied, his expression somber and a wicked smile playing on his lips:
"I was looking for you, but on the road, I came across some stray sheep. To warm up, I simply took their badges... They were so weak, they offered no resistance."
"Lost sheep, you say? You speak of apprentices as if they were nothing... But why have you collected so many? And stranger still: who are you? Why are you so keen to find me?" Kyriel replied, his voice filled with fear mixed with incomprehension.
"Just for the fun of it... Rest assured, I spared some lives. But others weren't so lucky. I killed them," Thorne replied, still wearing that same smirk.
At the mention of the word "kill," Kyriel's face froze. A sudden thought flashed through his mind: what if one of his brothers or perhaps all of them were among Thorne's victims? His previously hesitant gaze suddenly darkened, replaced by icy determination.
"Who are you?" he snapped, his eyes bloodshot, rage surfacing in his voice.
"A being who needs no name. The only thing you need to know is that you will follow me very kindly," Thorne replied, the same treacherous smile still plastered on his lips.
"You won't move from here until you've described the participants you eliminated," Kyriel retorted, his fists clenched.
"And if I refuse?" Thorne asked, a touch amused.
"Then you'll die here and now," Kyriel replied icily.
Thorne burst into a manic laugh.
"Hahahaha! I'd love to see that."
Without further ado, he rushed at Kyriel.
"Body Modification Art: Serpent!" he cried.
His arm instantly transformed into a gigantic serpent that lunged at Kyriel, who remained motionless, as if frozen. In a flash, the serpent wrapped its arms around him and sank its fangs into his neck, injecting him with a deadly poison.
"This poison is powerful enough to annihilate thirty adult men... But with the energy flowing within him, he won't succumb. He'll simply be paralyzed for three hours. That will be more than enough time to deliver him to my lord and complete my mission," Thorne thought triumphantly.
But against all odds, as the venom began to course through his veins, Kyriel slowly raised his hand, grabbed the snake's mouth, and with a sharp crack, broke its jaw. Thorne's arm then reverted to its human form, and the shock sent him several steps backward.
"Impossible... The poison has no effect on him?!" Thorne exclaimed, stunned.
"I understand now... What my lord told me was true..." he thought, a shudder running through him.
In the arena, there was general astonishment. The crowd, witnessing the battle projected on the magic screen, held their breath. Even the Twelve Commanders watched the scene with a mixture of disbelief and fascination.
"That boy... The one with the snake-like hand... He just eliminated a dozen participants and defeated another dozen without killing them. And now he's going after a new opponent... But what exactly is he after?" the bespectacled commander wondered, looking worried.
"This poison... Would it be ineffective against him?" murmured another commander, a woman with a calm but perplexed voice.
On the battlefield, Thorne gritted his teeth in irritation.
"Since the soft method has proven futile... it's time to take the hard way. You asked for it, fragment... You would have done better to let the poison do its work."
He placed his hands on the ground, a cruel sneer on his face.
"Environmental Manipulation Art: Sand Tsunami."
Immediately, the desert sand rose with a dull roar, taking the form of an immense tide over three meters high, rushing towards Kyriel like a tidal wave.
"This sand will lacerate your flesh like blades. The resulting pain... will be exquisite," Thorne added sadistically.
But just as the sandy wave was about to engulf Kyriel, his voice rang out, calm and icy:
"FROST."
In an instant, every grain of sand suspended in the air crystallized, turning to ice, before simultaneously exploding with a scintillating explosion.
Thorne's expression froze. His eyes widened in shock.
"He... froze all my sand? How powerful! So it was you... You're the one who froze the illusory sea." Your ART… manipulates ice," he said, stunned.
He quickly recovered, his gaze burning with defiance.
"Very well. Let's see how you resist this…"
"Environmental Manipulation Art: Fire Hurricane."
Flames suddenly burst from the ground all around Kyriel, forming a fiery whirlwind that closed in on him before crashing down with incredible violence.
"This art manipulates the surrounding energy. I converted the heat of this desert into a hurricane of flames and turned it against you. Under these conditions, your ice will be powerless," Thorne explained, confident, certain of his victory.
In the arena, the emotion was palpable.
"Such manipulation of environmental energy… Who is this boy?" one of the Twelve Commanders asked, visibly troubled.
"This power already surpasses that of a lower-ranking Swordmaster… The children of this class… They are monsters." added another commander, his tongue hanging out in astonishment.
However, just as his body seemed enveloped by the hurricane's furious flames, Kyriel swept away the attack with a simple wave of his hand. A fierce wind immediately arose, violently pushing Thorne back several meters. Against all odds, Kyriel stood there, unharmed, without the slightest trace of burns on his skin.
"It's... impossible..." Thorne stammered, stunned. "I raised the ambient temperature to over 6,000 degrees, concentrated it into a hurricane of flames to reduce him to ashes... He should have been completely consumed. And yet... he doesn't have a single scratch. It's... inconceivable."
He gritted his teeth, his voice trembling with disbelief.
"I never imagined that a simple fragment could contain such power..."
"Fragment?" " Kyriel repeated, his voice rumbling, still fueled by icy anger. "What do you mean by that?"
Thorne gave a grim smile.
"That's not information you'll need. Whether you live or die, you'll come with me."
Then his gaze darkened.
"It seems conventional ART techniques are useless against you... You leave me no alternative. I will kill you, seal your soul, and offer it to my lord. Body Modification Art: Titan."
Immediately, his body began a terrifying transformation. His hair turned inky black, his torso broadened, his limbs lengthened and became monstrously muscular. His teeth doubled in size, and in a few seconds, his height reached nearly seventeen meters. A colossal and terrifying creature rose up before Kyriel.
"My body is now enhanced tenfold, as is my power. And I can now use the Sacred Art. You may not know what it is... but you will learn it the hard way."
From his towering stature, Thorne raised his hand.
"Sacred Art of the Mysterious Cavern: Blackness."
A wave of darkness erupted from him, instantly engulfing the entire area in total darkness. In a matter of seconds, Kyriel and Thorne were plunged into a world without light.
"In this abyss of darkness, your senses will be of no use to you. Your sight, your hearing, your touch, your smell, even your taste... everything is taken away from you. You no longer have any bearings." You don't know where I am, but I perceive you perfectly..."
Thorne prepared to deliver the fatal blow.
"And now that I have deprived you of all perception, I will annihilate you with this... Sacred Art of the Mysterious Cave..."
But before he could finish his formula, a soft voice, barely a whisper, rose from the darkness.
"Sacred Art of Eternal Radiance: Illumination."
In an instant, a dazzling light burst from Kyriel, sweeping away the darkness in an explosion of brightness. The entire area was flooded with a radiance so intense that the darkness itself seemed to flee before him.
"Impossible..." Thorne murmured, blinded, bewildered.
But already, Kyriel was leaping forward. He rose into the air, grabbed Thorne by the neck despite his gigantic size, and threw him violently to the ground. The impact was so violent that it pulverized the earth in a radius of two hundred meters.
Standing at the edge of the crater, Kyriel fixed his incandescent gaze on his fallen enemy.
"I ask you one last time... Who are you? And why are you chasing me?" he demanded, his voice filled with cold rage, his eyes pierced by a murderous glare.
Lying there, broken, trembling... Thorne no longer thought of fighting. A single thought now obsessed him:
Flee.