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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Gate Opening Ceremony
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The master of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, Paon, had barely given his permission when the air in the audience hall shifted dramatically.
Thud, thud!
Following behind Paon Lichtenauer as he entered the audience hall, an elderly mage with a venerable air walked up to Ian.
"Heh heh! Then, let us now commence the Gate Opening Ceremony for Ian Lichtenauer. Ian Lichtenauer, step forward."
At the elder mage's words, Ian obediently straightened his knees and walked up to the mage.
Swoosh!
The elder mage drew a red gemstone from within his robe.
Placing the gemstone, which radiated an extraordinary aura even at a glance, against Ian's forehead, the elder mage spoke.
"Very well, Ian Lichtenauer. As a scion of the Martial Clan, may you meet the perfect companion to journey with you."
With those enigmatic words from the elder mage, the space where Ian stood began to warp.
Flash!
Soon, light erupted from the gemstone, filling the entire audience hall.
As the light slowly faded, Ian, who had been standing in the center just moments before, had vanished without a trace.
All that remained in his place was the elder mage and the red gemstone he held.
Yet, as this was a familiar sight to everyone, no one showed any curiosity about Ian's disappearance.
Paon was no exception.
"Nedyr, project the Weapon Orb so all can see."
"As the Patriarch commands."
At Paon's words, the elder mage Nedyr raised his staff and channeled mana toward the gemstone.
Vmmm!
Resonating with Nedyr's mana, the gemstone slowly floated into the air, expanding dramatically in size.
The gemstone grew as vast as a castle wall. Soon, it shimmered transparently, beginning to reflect someone's image.
And the one reflected in the gemstone was none other than Ian.
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Teleported into the warped space along with the light, Ian.
'Ha, would you look at these guys. They're the real deal.'
Rather than panic, he let out a sigh of admiration.
A space rippling entirely with red light on all sides.
No one would mistake it for a naturally occurring place.
In other words, the magic unleashed by the mage's gemstone wasn't a simple spatial transfer like teleportation.
The space Ian now occupied was one created by the pinnacle of magic known as a unique barrier—a feat only the master of the Mage Tower, the powerhouse that dominated the Bestrika continent in the Southern Continent, could achieve.
Who could have guessed that such an artifact containing supreme magic would be held not by a vast empire, but by a single kingdom's clan?
'Well, considering the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's prestige on the Southern Continent... it's not all that surprising.'
No matter what anyone said, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan was one of the two absolute pillars symbolizing Aslan Kingdom's martial prowess.
It wouldn't be strange if the other pillar, the Mage Tower, had gifted them one as a token of friendship.
Swoosh!
He couldn't admire it forever.
Ian lifted his head and slowly surveyed the red space.
A vast plain filled his field of vision.
No—more precisely, there was no such thing as a plain in this space.
Nothing existed but the red, rippling void filling the surroundings.
Yet Ian called it a 'plain' because.
Weapons were arrayed in perfect order, filling the space completely.
Just like a field of grass.
'Hmm, I get the gist.'
Though Ian was far more talented at breaking heads than using them, even he had his wits about him.
The words the elder mage had spoken just before the space warped.
And the countless weapons.
Just looking around was enough to figure out what he needed to do in this Gate Opening Ceremony.
A rite to open the gates and be recognized as a full member of the Martial Clan.
Naturally, it included selecting the 'companion' to grow alongside him as a martial artist.
'Well, if they're offering, I won't say no.'
Thud, thud!
Having grasped the true purpose of the ceremony, Ian began walking slowly across the field inside the gemstone.
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Ian's figure walking through the weapon field inside the Weapon Orb was visible to the Martial Clan's executives in the audience hall via the gemstone.
"Hmm, going deeper than expected? That's surprising."
Some expressed astonishment at Ian, seen as little more than a halfwit, venturing further inside.
"Tsk tsk tsk. He neglected his training, so now he's overreaching beyond his station."
Others clicked their tongues, viewing Ian's continued advance as mere greed.
"Hans, that old butler must have filled his head with nonsense out of a desire to return to glory. Tsk tsk."
Still others blamed Hans, who attended to Ian.
As Ian had predicted, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's Gate Opening Ceremony was a ritual to select one's destined weapon from within the unique barrier formed inside the Weapon Orb.
It was the clan's treasury, housing all weapons either crafted by the clan or taken as spoils from defeated foes.
Naturally, the deeper into the barrier one went, the finer the weapons became.
Among them were arms that rivaled the treasured artifacts of Dharma Kingdom in Oscella on the Western Continent, forged with secret spells, reaching the realm of legends.
But to claim such alluring flowers, one needed commensurate qualifications.
Those entering the gemstone's barrier had to endure pressure that intensified exponentially the deeper they went.
Thus, almost no one chose weapons from the heart of the barrier during the ceremony.
Reaching the legendary realm meant it was no ordinary weapon.
Such arms would not allow an unqualified fool to claim them.
On the contrary, they might lead their foolish would-be masters to ruin.
This was why the children of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan were endlessly advised by their elders never to be greedy during the Gate Opening Ceremony.
Know one's limits and abilities precisely, strive daily to achieve merits, and receive superior weapons step by step.
That was the proper image of a martial artist in the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's view.
So, it was only natural that they clicked their tongues at Ian's actions now.
The area Ian was approaching was one even the clan's most promising heirs dared not challenge lightly.
Among the current generation's descendants, only Eldest Young Lord Alex Lichtenauer and a few branch family or vassal geniuses had reached that far.
If a mere halfwit like Ian pushed further out of greed, he might self-destruct in this, his first step as a martial artist—an unprecedented scandal.
All in the audience hall could only shake their heads at Ian's folly in failing to judge even that much.
"Today, the Patriarch's son might be the only one left besides the Eldest Young Lord... Huh?"
As everyone shook their heads and clicked their tongues, someone sensed something off and spoke to the person beside them.
"Hey, look."
"What? Why?"
"Am I seeing things? It looks like the Second Young Lord is picking something weird."
"Don't overreact. Whatever he picks from that area, he's doomed anyway... Huh?"
The one who scolded their companion while glancing at the gemstone also widened their eyes in surprise.
"W-What's that?"
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...Crunch!
Ian could feel the pressure bearing down on his shoulders intensifying as he ventured deeper into the clan's field.
The barrier's space itself tightened moment by moment, exerting pressure incomparable to the auras projected by the martial artists at the Patriarch's hall entrance.
If their pressure had been a test to gauge his capacity, the sensation from the Weapon Orb's unique barrier felt like outright hostility.
As if scorning and despising a wretch like him for daring to enter the heart.
The negative emotion soon turned to rage, manifesting as killing intent toward Ian.
Drip, drip!
Beyond merely pressing his shoulders, his muscles tore, and his joints screamed.
'...Tch. A mere barrier dares.'
Ian had long noticed that the quality of the arrayed weapons rose exponentially the deeper he went.
However, having encountered countless treasures and masterworks offered to him in his past life, he wasn't impressed.
Even if the orb's weapons were exceptional, unless it was the absolute core, they wouldn't catch his eye.
In other words, unlike what the audience hall executives thought—that he was overreaching out of greed for quality—he pressed on not for better weapons.
He was simply searching for one compatible with his Blood Nether Iron Lock Technique.
'Damn it! A so-called Martial Clan without even a single chain?'
For Ian—or rather, Lucas—the weapon best suited to his Blood Nether Iron Lock Technique was, without doubt, chains.
The very name of the martial art he practiced included 'lock' (鎖).
The signature weapon of Lucas in his previous life, the Golden Heavenly Chains.
These chains, unyielding even to Lucas's majestic aura, moved at his will to crush foes regardless of distance and barred enemies from approaching—his ultimate weapon.
'I don't expect anything like the Golden Heavenly Chains. Even something similar to chains would suffice.'
It wasn't impossible to wield Blood Nether True Energy with ordinary swords or spears.
But a true martial artist maximized their power with a familiar weapon in hand.
Especially for Ian now, as feeble as a firefly before the full moon compared to his past life's pinnacle, the right tool was crucial.
Yet contrary to his expectations, even the clan's treasury lacked weapons to his taste.
It was inevitable.
Throughout the continent's long history, no powerhouse besides Lucas had used chains as a weapon.
No demand, no supply.
Thus, while he found passable substitutes, he couldn't bring himself to choose them.
And for good reason.
'A whip... is just a bit much.'
If asked for the most common weapon akin to chains, a whip was closest.
But for various(?) reasons, Ian passed it by without a second glance.
But now, even that had limits.
Pressing further inward was impossible; the pressure on his body was unbearable for his current self.
'...No choice. I'll pick the whip for now and have a smith forge chains later. That might be better.'
Lingering here without a suitable weapon was pointless.
The moment he turned to retrieve the whip he'd seen earlier, resigned.
One weapon caught Ian's eye.
A pair of swords forming a set.
'...This one?'
It was peculiar.
Unlike typical paired swords made symmetrically.
The pair before Ian had blades of different shapes.
One was a white right sword, long as a greatsword yet narrow like a rapier.
The other, a black left dao slightly longer than a dagger, but with a blade twice as wide as a standard one.
Lengths and forms that defied easy categorization—this odd pair would never be chosen by anyone with even basic weapon knowledge.
Yet for some reason, Ian couldn't tear his eyes away.
Soon.
Thud, thud!
Having made up his mind, Ian strode toward the paired swords without hesitation.
Vmmm!
As if sensing his approach, an intimidating aura emanated from the paired swords.
Groan!
'...Tch!'
The aura shifted from hostility to outright killing intent, slamming Ian's knee to the ground.
The force shattered the frail bones of Ian's knee.
Limp, limp!
But Ian did not retreat.
He dragged himself forward, limping toward the paired swords.
Vmmm! Crack!
The intensifying aura snapped both his legs.
Swoosh, swoosh!
Not stopping, Ian crawled toward the paired swords.
'I am Lucas Alexeida.'
He had no intention of yielding his will to a mere weapon's threat.
Grab!
Defying the paired swords' murderous aura to the end, Ian finally grasped them.
He was certain.
At this moment, inside the orb's barrier, no other weapon among those he could choose matched him better.
"Haa, haa..."
As Ian's hand touched the weapon after all his ordeal, the red space of the gemstone enveloping him began to warp slowly.
Flash!
The weapon field that had unfolded moments ago vanished like a fleeting dream, returning Ian instantly to the audience hall.
But his battered body and the paired swords in his grip proved the space he'd endured was no illusion.
Having watched Ian's plight in real time, the executives' voices echoed through the hall.
"Tsk tsk. If he lacked the skill, he should have picked something fitting. What disgrace is this in the Gate Opening Ceremony?"
Some looked on Ian—who had crawled yet clung to his greed—with contempt.
"No. Any true martial artist needs that much resolve to claim their desired companion! Maybe the Second Young Lord isn't a complete fool after all."
Others regarded Ian, who had seen his will through, with newfound respect.
As the two views clashed.
"...Is that weapon your final choice?"
Paon's weary voice from the jade throne above rang dryly through the audience hall.
"Yes. In my judgment, this is my best option."
Ian replied steadily, undeterred by the pain.
His words unified the divided opinions of the martial artists once more.
"He's mad—picking the Black-White Dao Sword?"
"He can't even handle a basic sword properly, and he calls the Black-White Dao Sword his best?"
"Ah, maybe that's it. Since skill won't cut it, he's going for notoriety."
Murmur!
Unlike the calm question and answer between the two, the surrounding martial artists began buzzing.
Ian's choice was simply incomprehensible.
Swoosh!
"Silence."
As the audience hall grew noisy, Paon raised his hand and spoke softly.
In that instant, a silence fell so profound even an ant's movement could be heard.
"Since when could others meddle in the choice of the ceremony's protagonist?"
"..."
No one—direct or branch—dared speak.
Paon's declaration resounded through the hall.
"Ian has made his choice. As a martial artist of the Lichtenauer Clan, he must bear the responsibility and consequences himself."
Standing from his seat, Paon looked down at Ian and said,
"With this, Ian's Gate Opening Ceremony is concluded. All of you, return to your duties."