Chapter 5…
Molting (5)
Yuri snatched Johan’s sword as if stealing it and stepped forward into the square.
The situation had unfolded so suddenly that murmurs of confusion erupted everywhere.
“What the hell just happened? What deal are they talking about?”
“So is Yuri taking the test or not?”
The relationship between Johan and Yuri.
Whether Yuri even had the qualifications to take the Cradle’s examination.
Countless questions tangled together in a bewildered buzz of whispers.
But no one was more flustered than the Irons family, who had prepared this entire stage.
“…Who is that child?”
At Ashraf Irons’s stiff question, his retainers could only glance at one another.
Though their territory lay on the frontier, the Irons had rapidly expanded their power. Their population now approached twenty thousand.
Even if they oversaw administration, how could the retainers possibly know every single resident?
As they hesitated, the eldest-looking retainer stepped forward.
“He is likely one of the refugees we recently accepted. I will investigate and report back before the day ends.”
“Do so.”
Ashraf nodded, yet his hardened expression did not ease.
For this day had been deliberately arranged.
And yet, the attention that should have focused on Gunter was drifting elsewhere—because of Johan.
Even now—
“Wasn’t that master supposed to have come to see our young lord?”
“Right? Did he come for that boy instead?”
Already, tongues wagged over Johan choosing a commoner boy instead of Gunter.
“Hmm…”
Ashraf let out a low groan of displeasure.
His gaze settled on Johan.
‘Johan Redner.’
Why would he leave his own son aside and show interest in such an ordinary-looking boy?
‘Just what… did you see in him?’
Unable to shake the question, Ashraf’s eyes refused to leave Johan.
Beside him, Gunter was lost in thought as well.
‘Who is he?’
The boy looked about his age.
No—his smaller frame made him seem even younger.
Gunter studied Yuri with curious eyes, only for disappointment to flicker across his face.
‘That’s not the body of someone who’s trained.’
Even through his shabby clothes, there were no visible traces of conditioning.
At best, perhaps he was more balanced than most boys his age.
And yet that so-called master had used a Dragon Emblem—something that could be invoked only once in a lifetime—for this boy.
An incomprehensible decision.
The same doubt lingered among the Black Sword soldiers.
“Hmm…”
The leader of Black Sword Unit 8 fixed his gaze on Yuri, who was loosening his shoulders in the center of the square.
‘I don’t understand. The Immovable Sword used a Dragon Emblem for a boy like that?’
He had felt a certain anticipation, hearing that his master had personally marked this youth.
‘Why him?’
The boy recommended by Johan fell far short of his expectations.
His physique.
His gait.
His breathing.
Not one of them bore the marks of training.
And moreover—
‘I can’t sense even a trace of mana.’
Though recently promoted, he had achieved Official Rank 7. Unless someone at Rank 8 or 9 deliberately concealed themselves, he could at least sense residual mana.
‘There’s no way that boy is that level.’
Which meant the boy had not accumulated even the most basic mana that formed the foundation of martial body arts.
That was a serious issue.
In the past fifty years, among the countless talents who had taken the Cradle’s qualification test, there had not been a single one who hadn’t trained in mana-body arts.
‘The Immovable Sword would know that.’
And yet he had still used the Dragon Emblem.
Which meant Johan had seen something he had not.
‘We’ll find out soon enough.’
The unit leader gave a nod.
“Begin.”
At his command, the soldier who had faced Gunter earlier stepped forward and called out,
“The examinee, step forward.”
“I already have,” came the flat reply.
“…State your name.”
“Yuri Holland.”
At the complete lack of tension in the boy’s demeanor, the soldier’s brow twitched.
But quickly regaining composure, he raised his voice.
“From this moment, under the laws established by the Master of the Great Sword, and in the presence of five members of Black Sword Unit 8, the Cradle Qualification Test shall commence! The format will be a single exchange of blows. When you are ready, begin.”
The format was no different from Gunter’s test.
Having finished the announcement, the soldier drew his sword and waited.
Come at me whenever you wish—that was the relaxed air he gave off.
Watching him, Yuri drew Johan’s sword.
Shrrk—
A blade of silver and black rippling like waves emerged from its sheath.
Like the Black Sword soldier’s weapon, it was a narrow saber, its straight edge curving slightly at the tip—a style said to have been brought to the Central Continent by descendants of the ancient East.
Even at a glance, Johan’s sword was clearly a treasured blade.
Yuri’s impression upon holding it was simple.
“It’s heavy.”
Not just the sword—but the weight in his heart as well.
What he felt was fear.
‘How long has it been… since I pointed a blade at someone?’
After becoming aware of his curse, Yuri had never again picked up a sword.
Because holding a sharp blade felt like it would summon the monster again.
Like he would be swallowed by the curse.
He had distanced himself from the sword simply to survive a little longer.
Seven years had passed.
Now, gripping one again, the memory of the first day he summoned the monster surfaced vividly.
The sensation of the kitchen knife in his hand.
[“Aaaagh!”]
A scream tearing through his ears.
[Slash—!]
Red liquid staining his vision.
For a moment, his pupils trembled.
But he steadied himself.
Tightening his grip, he addressed the Black Sword soldier.
“A warning.”
“…?”
“I can’t control my strength. Survive if you can.”
The soldier’s brow twisted deeply at the boy’s almost playful tone.
Seeing his warning ignored, Yuri let out a faint sigh.
‘I warned you. If someone dies, it’s not my fault.’
With that self-justification, he tossed aside the sheath and gripped the sword with both hands.
The blade wobbled heavily.
He could barely handle its weight.
People whispered.
“Tsk, he can’t even hold it properly.”
“How’s he going to pass the Cradle’s test like that?”
Ignoring them, Yuri drew a long breath.
Hiss— hiss—
As his breathing lengthened, his mind focused entirely on the sword.
The surrounding noise faded.
It felt as though only he and the blade remained in the world.
At the same time, his senses expanded rapidly.
Everything around him seemed projected directly into his mind.
The gazes from behind.
The fingers pointing at him.
Every detail within several meters registered vividly.
And time slowed.
‘This isn’t enough.’
Normally, he would have stopped here.
It had always been sufficient to overcome obstacles.
But his opponent now was a famed Black Sword soldier.
He couldn’t just dip his feet in.
He had to plunge in completely.
‘Let’s go!’
With that resolve, he sharpened his consciousness.
At once, he felt as though his mind were being sucked into the sword.
‘Kgh!’
A sensation not felt in seven years.
His body felt submerged, floating weightlessly.
Goosebumps rose.
‘This is awful…’
Like drifting alone in an endless ocean.
He had avoided the sword to escape this sensation—
The fear of losing even his sense of self.
‘Focus!’
This was only the beginning.
‘It’s coming!’
As if on cue—
Grrrr…
From one corner of his consciousness came the growl of a beast.
‘It’s… coming!’
Grrrrrk!
From the boundless sea of no-self, a black shadow approached—
Like a massive whale rising from the depths.
Slash—!
The shadow swelled and swallowed him whole.
And at that moment, change manifested in reality.
“What’s going on? Did it just get darker?”
“Is it going to rain?”
The surroundings dimmed noticeably.
That was the beginning.
Slither—
At Yuri’s feet, his shadow writhed.
At first subtle.
Then it climbed his body.
Everything changed.
“Huh?!”
“Wh-what?!”
The shadow rose vertically, swelling in size.
In 0.01 seconds—
To ordinary eyes, it appeared suddenly.
And then—
Grrrk—
Two holes formed in the black mass.
Like eyes.
They curved like crescent moons.
Then a massive gash—like a mouth—tore wide.
Though silent, it radiated a wicked laugh.
“Th-that—!”
“Aah?!”
Ghost. Demon. Wraith.
People recoiled in terror.
“What is that?! A g-ghost?!”
“It’s a monster!”
“A demon—!”
But those most shocked were the ones who understood what it truly was.
The Black Sword Unit 8 leader.
Ashraf Irons.
With their accumulated experience and Official Rank 7 mastery, they recognized it instantly.
‘That’s no demon!’
It was something far beyond such a crude word.
For those who walked the martial path, it was a dream. A goal.
They cried out simultaneously.
“An… Avatar?!”
“An Avatar?!”
Avatar.
Also called a Transcendent Form, an Idea, a Manifested Image.
It took many forms—
A sword.
A colossal beast.
A blooming flower.
There was no fixed shape.
But one truth was known:
The presence of an Avatar separated Official Rank 9 from a Master.
Only those called Masters could manifest one.
‘Impossible!’
‘This can’t be real!’
Even geniuses who trained their entire lives often died stuck at Rank 9, never reaching Avatar manifestation.
Yet this ordinary boy—who hadn’t even cultivated mana—had manifested one?
Unthinkable.
Impossible.
And yet—
There it was.
Reality clashed violently with everything they believed.
And they understood.
Why they had failed to see the boy’s specialness.
Why Johan had used his precious Dragon Emblem.
‘He saw it.’
Johan too stood among the Masters.
Having reached the same realm, he recognized what Yuri possessed.
Meanwhile, Johan’s lips twisted.
“Kh… heh heh heh!”
Excitement.
Joy.
Ecstasy.
And madness.
“At last…”
Rarely—very rarely—beings are born with talent beyond reason.
A mutation.
A gift no one else could obtain even across dozens of lifetimes.
The prime example:
Luke Ryder, ruler of the world.
The world had believed no one like him would ever be born again.
But there was.
In this distant frontier—
A monster equal to the Sword Sovereign.
“You monster bastard…”
Johan’s eyes gleamed.
His smile split wide and savage.
“You’ve shed your human skin.”
And with that murmur—
Kyaaa—
The black monster Yuri had manifested lunged toward the Black Sword soldier.
