Chương 86: Battle Order

[Second Trial—] The voice of the arcane custodian descended from the gray-white sky. [Passed.] With the final word, the pressure hanging over the battlefield finally eased. Rowan looked across the field. The scarred young man and the others were still there. The woman with the long copper-red braid didn't look pleased. Pale-cyan wind patterns climbed from the ground and spread over all six members of the opposing team. The man with glasses glanced down at the Returning Wind Sigil on his left wrist.

The battlefield patterns connected to it were rapidly fading.

"Looks like this is as far as we go." He spoke quietly. Across the remnants of the battle already dissolving between them, he gave Rowan's side one last look. Soon, blue-green light covered all six figures. Space twisted slightly. The next instant, they disappeared together. Rowan glanced at the empty stone platform. He wasn't surprised. Before the Second Trial began, the arcane custodian had already said that the defeated would remain in the Outer Court.

It seemed they had simply been transferred elsewhere within it. Just then, six faint lights appeared beneath Rowan's group. A thin gray-green stone tablet slowly rose from the wind patterns. Rowan reached out and caught his. Cool to the touch. Slightly smaller than his palm. The front bore only a simple spiral pattern. The back was completely blank. Rowan ran his thumb along the edge. A faint line of light flickered across the tablet's surface, and the Returning Wind Sigil on his left wrist flashed in response.

"We've got the tablets." The broad-nosed young man immediately flipped his over. Front. Back. Still blank. He frowned.

"Where's the ranking?" The girl with the dark-silver prosthetic wasn't even looking at her tablet. Only when her battered Single-Phase True Echo finally began to dissipate did she seem convinced that it was really over. Her right hand suddenly clenched into a fist.

"Yes!" The shout immediately drew everyone's attention. The young man with the black-thorn tattoo had been studying his own tablet.

"That happy?"

"Of course." She turned around. Her dark-silver prosthetic tapped lightly against the stone. She looked tired, but it did nothing to dampen her mood.

"After the First Trial, I was the only one left from my Abyssal Hive." The tattooed young man raised an eyebrow. Then he understood.

"Yeah. That's worth celebrating." A long sigh came from beside them. The broad-nosed young man was still holding his blank tablet.

"You're seriously lucky." The envy was written all over his face. The girl looked at him.

"What about your Hive?"

"Three slots." He held up three fingers. Paused. Then raised his other hand as well.

"Six of us passed the First Trial." He looked at both hands. His expression fell even further. The broad-nosed young man lowered his gaze to the tablet, absently rubbing a finger across its blank back.

"You can probably guess how my First Trial went."

"I barely made it out before the time limit."

"And I don't even know how many of the other five passed the Second Trial." If anything, he looked more worried after saying it. Passing the Second Trial was obviously good. But for him, it only meant he had gone from might be eliminated on the spot to qualified to keep worrying. Evan listened from the side, visibly amused.

"The battle order isn't even out yet and you've already eliminated yourself?"

"Easy for you to say."

"Why wouldn't I be worried?"

"You just don't look like someone who worries." Evan thought about that.

"Fair point." The broad-nosed young man stopped bothering with him. Rowan traced the spiral on his tablet. They had all passed the same Second Trial. But what that meant differed completely from person to person. The girl with the prosthetic leg had no competitors left from her own Abyssal Hive. As long as she didn't somehow get herself eliminated later, one of the standard slots was basically already hers. The broad-nosed young man was the exact opposite. And Rowan...

He raised his eyes toward the gray-white curtain of light still standing in the distance. The Seventh Abyssal Hive had only one slot. Had Julian passed? There wasn't much suspense in that question. What really mattered was where Julian ranked. Over the next few minutes, the remaining battlefields went dark one after another. The six of them stopped talking and used the time to recover mentally. When the final gray-white curtain vanished, the stone beneath their feet trembled again. Rowan opened his eyes.

The stone patterns that had divided the area into eighteen battlefields rapidly receded. The separated spaces rejoined. His field of view opened to either side. Figures appeared in the distance once more. One victorious team after another returned to the central area. The crush from before the Second Trial was gone. Half remained. One hundred and eight. It didn't take Rowan long to find Julian. He was holding the same kind of gray-green stone tablet. The last trace of uncertainty in Rowan's mind disappeared.

As expected. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The competition for the Seventh Abyssal Hive's slot wasn't over. He kept looking. A few other familiar faces appeared. Adrian Voss was speaking with the twins. Farther away, Severin Hearn stood alone near the edge of the group. His attention wasn't on the other candidates. He kept staring toward the silent stone galleries in the distance. Then the tablet in Rowan's hand suddenly grew warm.

Around him, the other one hundred and seven tablets lit up almost simultaneously. [Second Trial concluded.] [Those entering the battle order—] [One hundred and eight.] [Battle order evaluation in progress.] The arcane custodian's voice remained perfectly even. Rowan looked down at his tablet. The back was still blank. But the dormant spiral on the front had begun to glow. Then a sound came from ahead. Tap. A figure had appeared behind the central platform. A long blue-gray robe.

Wide sleeves hanging at his sides. Faint spiral wind patterns ran along the hem and shoulders. On his chest was an old insignia far more intricate than the Returning Wind Sigils on their wrists. The man was elderly. His hair had already gone gray-white. Deep wrinkles lined his face. He wasn't particularly tall. Like the True Echoes from the Second Trial, his body carried an unreal gray cast, his features almost hidden behind a thin veil of mist. At first, Rowan didn't think much of it.

They had seen enough True Echoes by now. Then the old man raised his eyes. He looked at the candidate in front. Then the second. The third. His gaze moved slowly across the entire platform. As it did, the gray covering his body gradually receded. His blurred features sharpened. His expression came alive. At a glance, he was almost indistinguishable from a living person. Rowan's body tensed slightly. Not because of any pressure. Something simply felt wrong. The True Echoes in the Second Trial could "look" too.

They could judge attacks. They could adjust their actions according to the battle. But their gazes had been nothing like this. The old man wasn't searching for a target. He was observing them. The surrounding area gradually fell silent. From the corner of his eye, Rowan saw several candidates quietly let their hands drift closer to their weapons. Isabelle subtly adjusted her stance as well. No one spoke first. The old man's gaze continued moving. Faces. Clothes. Weapons. Equipment.

His eyes even lingered for an extra moment on the girl's dark-silver prosthetic. Rowan's heart had just begun to sink when the old man spoke.

"The fashions this year are certainly stranger than they used to be." The silence deepened. But the old man sounded as though he were making nothing more than an idle observation. His gaze had already shifted to the battle-order patterns around them, not yet fully extinguished.

"Still, one hundred and eight entering the battle order."

"This cohort has decent fundamentals." Rowan looked at him again. The old man had noticed that something was unusual. But he didn't question why they were here. At least in his eyes, the Returning Wind Sigils and Mirrorheart's own trial results were clearly more trustworthy than their strange clothing and equipment. Several gazes briefly met across the crowd. No one corrected him. Rowan certainly wouldn't.

If Mirrorheart Academy believed they were new students— Then for now, new students were exactly what they should be. After a moment, someone near the back cautiously spoke.

"Are you an instructor at the academy?" The old man looked over.

"An instructor for new students."

"I oversee all three trials for your cohort." He offered no further introduction. Instead, his gaze swept over them again.

"Three trials."

"The first—Art."

"Mirrorheart has its own way of fighting."

"First, understand your opponent."

"His arts. His habits. How he intends to fight." The old man tapped one finger against his temple. Without waiting for a response, he continued.

"The second—the Many."

"No matter how quickly one person learns, one person is still only one person."

"Mirrorheart did not come this far on the strength of one." He spoke naturally. As though the academy had never fallen. Never disappeared. Unconcealed pride appeared on his face.

"You should have gotten a taste of that during the Second Trial."

"The longer a battle lasts, the more we should have at our disposal."

"That is how we came to reign supreme in Icewind Valley." He paused.

"As for the final trial—""The Self."

"The academy can teach you."

"Your companions can help you."

"But in the end—" The old man looked at them.

"What you have in your own hands—that is what you can truly rely on."

"The Third Trial."

"The Seven Arenas." The tablet in Rowan's hand suddenly heated. Across its previously blank back, pale-cyan lines began converging inward from the edges. [Inscribing battle order.] Everyone looked down almost at once. Numbers appeared. Rowan's tablet stopped at: [Current Battle Order: 9] Nine. Rowan studied it for a moment. Slightly higher than he had expected. But not unreasonable. With the help of the Mind-Splitting Art, he had performed near the top in the First Trial.

In the Second Trial, his team had defeated a formidable opposing team. Still, the Second Trial seemed to evaluate the team as a whole. Most of the gap between individual rankings probably came from the First Trial. Someone beside him drew a long breath.

"..." The girl with the prosthetic leg turned.

"What did you get?" The broad-nosed young man held his tablet in both hands. It took him a while to finally turn it around. Ninety-three.

"What about you?" Evan glanced at his own. Then closed his hand around the tablet.

"Higher than you."

"..." The tattooed young man patted him on the shoulder. While they spoke, a much larger pale-cyan screen lit up ahead. Names appeared one after another. Only twenty-one. At the very top— [1: Adrian Voss] Low murmurs immediately spread through the crowd. Some clearly knew the name. Others obviously had no idea who he was and were already looking around for the candidate ranked first. Adrian had his back to Rowan. Rowan couldn't tell how he reacted. He didn't linger on it. His gaze moved down. Second. Third. Fourth.

Fifth. [6: Julian] Rowan stopped. As expected. Near the front. Three places ahead. Julian was indeed ahead. Rowan raised his head. In the distance, Julian had just looked away from the battle-order board as well. The Seventh Abyssal Hive had only one standard slot. That meant only one thing. The arcane custodian spoke again. [The top twenty-one in the battle order qualify for the Third Trial.] [Qualified candidates may decline.] [Vacancies will be filled according to battle order.] Discussion immediately broke out around them. The old man at the center turned slightly. Behind him, seven sets of stone patterns slowly lit up.

"Only seven will be chosen." The seven lines of light grew brighter.

"The Seven Arenas."

"One from each arena."

"Those seven enter the Core Sequence." The old man glanced at the battle-order board.

"Different positions mean different inheritances, resources, and priority." Rowan noticed expressions changing among quite a few of the top twenty-one. Some had already begun studying the names in the top seven. Others showed almost no reaction at all. Isabelle was one of them. She looked down at her tablet. Pressed one finger lightly against its edge. Without hesitation, the Returning Wind pattern beside her name on the board went dark. [Isabelle Cade has declined participation in the Third Trial.] Several people nearby looked over at once. The broad-nosed young man most of all.

"You're not going?"

"No." Isabelle put away her tablet.

"You're fifteenth."

"I know."

"The core inheritance..."

"I heard." Her tone was calm. The broad-nosed young man opened his mouth. He clearly couldn't understand it. Rowan was surprised too. Judging from her performance in the Second Trial, Isabelle would have been a difficult opponent. But she had given up far too quickly. As though she had never intended to enter in the first place. Before Rowan could think further, another line on the battle-order board went dark. [Severin Hearn has declined participation in the Third Trial.] Rowan looked toward Severin.

He wasn't even looking at his tablet anymore. His gaze had already passed over the crowd toward the outer stone galleries, where faint light was beginning to return. Rowan narrowed his eyes. Another one. [Third Trial qualification reassigned to the next rank.] The tattooed young man hadn't made the top twenty-one. Neither had Evan. The former glanced at the board and shrugged. He didn't look particularly disappointed. Apparently, he was confident enough about his standing within his own Abyssal Hive.

"Perfect."

"The passages should be open again." As if answering him, several stone galleries that had gone dark during the Second Trial lit up again. The restrictions around the central trial area had been lifted. [Outer Court access restored.] The crowd didn't disperse immediately. Many candidates remained in front of the battle-order board. Some were confirming their own positions. Others repeatedly searched for names from the same Abyssal Hive. Only twenty-one could participate in the Third Trial.

But for everyone else, the military exam was far from over. After a while, people finally began moving toward the outer galleries. Whether they ultimately passed the military exam or not, standing here wouldn't change their current battle order. At least the relics they could actually get their hands on in the Outer Court might give them a few more cards to play in the competition ahead. The girl with the prosthetic leg looked toward the outside too. Her expression was eager.

The broad-nosed young man was still staring at the ninety-three on his tablet. His brow hadn't relaxed once. The tattooed young man passed by him and glanced toward the newly reopened galleries.

"I'm heading out to look around." The broad-nosed young man searched the crowd one more time before frowning and following the flow of people outside. Evan walked over to Rowan. His tablet spun once between his fingers.

"I'm going to look around too." He took two steps, then turned back.

"Don't drain your mana dry in the Third Trial." Rowan's brow moved slightly.

"Why?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Keeping something in reserve is never a bad idea." With that, Evan turned and disappeared into the crowd heading for the Outer Court. What did he mean by that? Isabelle approached from the other side. She was preparing to leave as well. As she passed Rowan, her steps slowed.

"Rowan."

"Yeah?"

"The Third Trial." Her expression grew more serious.

"Don't run yourself dry." Rowan frowned.

"Why?" Isabelle pressed her lips together slightly. As though deciding how much she could say.

"Someone warned me."

"Warned you about what?"

"To keep something in reserve for afterward."

"What happens afterward?"

"I don't know." Isabelle looked at him.

"You'll have to look out for yourself." She tapped her tablet lightly.

"That's why I'm not going in." Rowan said nothing. Isabelle offered no further explanation. She soon turned and left. Rowan remained where he was. He watched until she disappeared into one of the Outer Court galleries. The fog surrounding this military exam suddenly seemed thicker than ever. Candidates continued leaving. Severin had been the first to disappear into one of the stone galleries.

Before long, only the twenty-one candidates who had confirmed their participation in the Third Trial remained in the central area. Only then did the old man sweep his gaze over the remaining candidates. He raised one hand. Boom— The ground shook. Enormous wind curtains surged up around them once more. They enclosed the candidates as violent wind snapped at their clothes. Then a stone arena slowly rose from the ground. A second followed. Then a third.... Until all seven stood before them.

The arenas were spaced far apart. Pale-cyan wind patterns glowed along their edges. The tablets held by the top seven in the battle order lit up simultaneously. The old man looked at them.

"The current top seven take one arena each." As he spoke, each tablet linked to a different arena. Adrian took the First Arena. Julian took the Sixth. The old man turned toward the remaining fourteen.

"The battle order from the first two trials does not measure head-on combat strength alone."

"The Third Trial is simpler."

"Starting with eighth place—""Choose an arena in order of rank."

"Two more candidates will enter each arena." He paused.

"One arena."

"One remains." Rowan understood the rules immediately. The battle order established by the first two trials still mattered. The higher the ranking, the earlier the candidate could choose an arena. But the final seven positions would still have to be won in combat. The tablet belonging to eighth place lit up first. Everyone turned toward him. It was a young man Rowan hadn't seen before. Not particularly tall. A faint old scar marked the outer end of his right eyebrow. He looked first at the Second Arena.

Then the Third. The Fourth. In the end, though, his gaze returned to the very front. Adrian Voss. People around him were already looking over. The young man seemed to notice. He didn't seem to care. A few moments later, he raised his tablet.

"First Arena." The surroundings fell briefly silent. [Confirmed.] Pale-cyan wind patterns lit beneath his feet. They extended all the way to the First Arena. Only then did Adrian turn his head. He gave the young man a serious look. The challenger followed the wind patterns toward the arena. Rowan withdrew his gaze. It wasn't a stupid choice. The First Trial hadn't measured pure head-on strength. The Second Trial had been a team battle. Adrian held the highest overall battle order.

That didn't mean everyone who had never seen him fight needed to assume he was untouchable in the Third Trial. The highest position was right there in front of them. Someone would always want to test it. The next instant, Rowan's tablet lit up. [Current Battle Order: 9] [Please choose.] All seven arenas lay before him. Rowan's gaze didn't linger on the first few. The Sixth Arena. Julian stood there. As though he had already known Rowan would look his way. Their gazes met across the distance.

The Seventh Abyssal Hive had only one slot. Rowan looked down at his tablet. There was no reason to overthink it.

"Sixth Arena." [Confirmed.] A pale-cyan wind pattern lit beneath Rowan's feet. It extended forward. All the way to Julian. Julian glanced down at the line of light. When he raised his head again— The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.