Chapter 4: The Test of the Holy Sword
The grand hall was silent as Aric and Leon stood before the Emperor, the tension palpable. Emperor Alaric's sharp, calculating eyes assessed them both, his gaze lingering on each of them in turn. The two SS Level talents of their generation — and the Emperor intended to determine who truly possessed the greater potential.
The Emperor's throne sat upon a raised dais, a majestic seat of polished gold adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars. Behind him, a towering tapestry depicted the first hero, wielding the Holy Sword bestowed by the Holy Goddess herself. The sword was said to choose only those with the purest and most powerful mana, a weapon that recognized the worthiness of its wielder.
The Emperor's voice echoed through the hall. "Bring forth the Holy Sword."
The knights parted, and a group of priests, clad in robes of white and gold, entered the hall. They carried a large, ornate box, its surface inscribed with sacred runes. The priests carefully placed the box before the Emperor and stepped back. With a slow, deliberate motion, the Emperor opened the box, revealing the Holy Sword.
The blade was a masterpiece — long and slender, its surface etched with celestial symbols that glowed faintly. The hilt was adorned with a brilliant sapphire, its deep blue hue mesmerizing under the light. The very air around the sword seemed to hum with an ethereal power.
"The Holy Sword was a gift from the Holy Goddess to the first hero," the Emperor said, his gaze fixed on Aric and Leon. "Today, we shall see who among you is destined to wield its power."
Aric's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he observed the sword. In the novel, this ritual had always been Leon's moment to shine. The sword would accept him as the hero, the destined protector of the Empire.
But Aric's fate was different. He already knew how this would end.
"Aric Everhart," the Emperor's voice called, breaking through Aric's thoughts. "You shall go first."
Aric stepped forward, his expression unreadable. The hall was so silent that the soft rustle of his clothes seemed thunderous. He approached the Holy Sword, its glow intensifying as he drew closer. A priest stepped forward, holding out a small ceremonial dagger.
"A drop of your blood upon the blade," the priest instructed, his voice solemn.
Aric took the dagger, his grip steady as he pricked his finger. A single drop of blood welled up, crimson and glistening. He held his hand over the Holy Sword, letting the drop fall onto the blade.
For a moment, the entire hall held its breath.
But nothing happened. The sword remained inert, its glow unchanged. The celestial symbols continued to shimmer softly, but there was no surge of power, no sign of recognition.
Murmurs spread through the crowd, hushed whispers echoing through the vast hall.
"Nothing?"
"Is he not worthy?"
"But he awakened SS Level mana..."
Aric withdrew his hand, his face a mask of calm indifference. Inside, he felt the cold sting of humiliation, but he kept his composure. This was expected. This was how it always was.
The Emperor's gaze was unreadable. "Step back."
Aric obeyed, moving to the side as Leon stepped forward, his emerald eyes gleaming with determination.
"Leon Valcrest," the Emperor announced, his tone firm. "It is your turn."
Leon walked forward, his posture confident, each step radiating the air of a born hero. He accepted the dagger, pricking his finger and letting a single drop of blood fall onto the Holy Sword.
The reaction was immediate.
The blade ignited in a brilliant burst of light, the celestial symbols flaring with blinding intensity. The air crackled with energy, a powerful surge of mana coursing through the hall. The sapphire on the hilt blazed with a dazzling blue light, as if resonating with Leon's very soul.
The nobles gasped, some shielding their eyes from the overwhelming brilliance.
"It's him," one whispered. "The Holy Sword has chosen him."
Leon stood before the sword, his jaw set, his eyes fierce. The Holy Sword pulsed in response, the glow gradually subsiding until only a gentle shimmer remained.
The Emperor's expression softened, a rare hint of approval crossing his features. "Leon Valcrest," he said, his voice echoing through the hall. "You are recognized by the Holy Sword. You have been chosen."
Leon bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I vow to use this power to protect the Empire."
Aric watched silently, his fists clenched at his sides. Leon had been chosen — as expected. The crowd was already celebrating, some nobles praising Leon as the hero who would save them all.
But Aric's mind was elsewhere. The Holy Sword had rejected him. To them, he was nothing but another SS Level talent, a mere shadow to Leon's brilliance.
But that was fine.
Because Aric had other plans.
As the crowd cheered, Aric's eyes darkened, a fleeting smirk playing at his lips. The Emperor was now looking at Leon as the future hero, the Empire's shining star. Aric knew that for now, he would remain in Leon's shadow.
But shadows were where he thrived.
In the midst of the celebration, Aric slipped away, moving through the crowd unnoticed. He stepped into a dim corridor, the sounds of the grand hall fading behind him. The air here was colder, the walls lined with ancient portraits of past heroes and rulers, their gazes stern and unyielding.
Aric's eyes narrowed as he continued down the corridor, his heart pounding with a newfound resolve. The sword may have rejected him, but it didn't matter. There were other powers, other paths to strength that the Empire knew nothing about.
And if the Holy Sword wouldn't accept him, he would simply find another way to carve his name into the annals of history.
"The hero can have his sword," Aric muttered under his breath, a dark gleam in his eyes. "I'll forge my own."