Chapter Title: Shedding (5)
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Yuri snatched Johan's sword as if seizing it and strode out into the plaza.
The sudden turn of events sparked suspicious murmurs from all around.
"What the hell is going on? What's this about a deal?"
"So Yuri's the one taking the test now? Making it?"
Questions swirled chaotically amid the bewildered buzz—about the relationship between Johan and Yuri, whether Yuri even qualified for the Cradle's exam, and more.
But no one was more flustered than the Irons family, who had orchestrated this stage.
"...Who is that kid?"
Ashraf's face was rigid as his retainers frantically glanced at one another.
Even for a border territory, House Irons had expanded rapidly, with nearly twenty thousand territory residents.
No matter that these were the administrative retainers—they couldn't possibly know every single one.
As they exchanged uneasy looks, the eldest-looking retainer stepped forward.
"He's probably one of the refugees we took in. We'll identify him before the day's out and report back."
"See to it."
Ashraf nodded, but the tension in his face didn't ease.
And well it shouldn't—this stage had been meticulously prepared for today.
Yet the attention that should have been fixed on Gunter was drifting elsewhere, thanks to Johan.
Look at them even now.
"Wasn't this Master here to see our young master?"
"Yeah? So he came for that kid instead?"
People were already gossiping about how Johan had chosen some commoner boy over Gunter.
"Hmm..."
Ashraf let out a low groan, venting his unease.
His gaze settled on Johan.
*Johan Redner.*
Why ignore his own son to show interest in such an ordinary boy?
*What exactly did you see in that child?*
Unable to shake the rising doubt, Ashraf's eyes stayed glued to Johan.
Meanwhile, Gunter, standing beside his father, was lost in his own thoughts.
*Who is he?*
He looked about Gunter's age.
No, his slight frame made him seem even younger.
Gunter watched Yuri with curious eyes, but disappointment soon crept onto his face.
*He's not even trained.*
Even judging by the body protruding through his shabby clothes, there were no signs of conditioning.
At best, he was more balanced than kids his age?
Yet this so-called Master had used his once-in-a-lifetime pardon plaque for this boy.
An incomprehensible choice.
The Black Sword soldiers shared the same bafflement.
"Hmm..."
The leader of Black Sword Squad 8 eyed Yuri, who was rolling his shoulders in the plaza's center.
*Can't make sense of it. The Unyielding Sword used his pardon for that boy?*
One of the few powerhouses his master acknowledged.
He'd been inwardly excited, expecting someone worthy.
*Why that one?*
But the boy Johan recommended fell far short of the squad leader's hopes.
Physical development.
Gait.
Breathing.
None showed traces of training or conditioning.
Worse still.
*I can't sense even a hint of mana.*
At Certified 7th Dan, he could detect mana residue unless a Certified 8th or 9th Dan was deliberately hiding it.
*No way that kid's at that level.*
Which meant the boy hadn't accumulated even the mana foundational to mana body arts.
A grave issue.
Without question, among the tens of thousands who'd taken the Cradle's qualification exam over the past fifty years, none had lacked mana body arts training.
*The Unyielding Sword would know that much.*
Yet he'd still used the pardon, meaning Johan had seen something he hadn't.
*Guess we'll find out what soon enough.*
The squad leader nodded.
"Begin."
At his command, the squad member who'd faced Gunter stepped forward and shouted.
"The challenger, step forward."
A sullen voice replied.
"I'm already here, aren't I?"
"...State your name."
"Yuri Holland."
The Black Sword soldier's brow twitched at Yuri's utter lack of tension.
But he quickly regained composure and announced loudly.
"By the laws set by the Great Sword's master, the Cradle qualification exam now commences under the witness of five from Black Sword Squad 8! The format is single exchanges. Enter when ready."
The method matched Gunter's exam. With the proclamation done, the Black Sword soldier drew his sword and waited.
A relaxed stance, as if to say *come at me anytime*.
Yuri drew Johan's sword as well.
*Sching—*
The blade, rippling like silver waves laced with black, emerged from its sheath.
Johan's sword was a narrow dao, like the Black Sword soldier's.
The only difference was the slight curve at the tip of its straight-extending blade?
It was the sword style spread by ancient Eastern descendants who settled the central continent.
Even at a glance, Johan's sword qualified as a treasured blade.
Yuri's impression, holding such a weapon, was simple.
"It's heavy."
Not just the sword's weight—the weight on his heart was immense.
What Yuri felt was fear.
*How long has it been since I pointed a blade at someone?*
Yuri hadn't touched a sword since realizing his curse.
He feared that gripping anything sharp would summon the monster again.
Feared being swallowed by the curse.
To live even a little longer, he'd naturally distanced himself from blades.
That had been over seven years.
Now, grasping one again after so long, memories flooded back unbidden—from the day he'd first summoned the monster.
The feel of the kitchen knife in his hand.
[Gaaahhh!]
The scream tearing at his ears.
*Splash—*
Red liquid staining his vision.
His pupils shook briefly at the vivid memory fragments, then steadied.
Gripping the sword tighter, Yuri addressed the Black Sword soldier.
"I'm warning you."
...?
"I can't hold back. Survive on your own."
The Black Sword soldier's brow furrowed deeply at Yuri's playful warning.
Disbelief flickered in his eyes.
Yuri sighed faintly at the soldier's attitude, as if dismissing the warning.
*I warned him. If anyone dies, it's not my fault.*
Rationalizing to himself, Yuri tossed aside the sheath and gripped the sword two-handed.
The blade tip wobbled heavily.
Overwhelmed, unable to bear even its own weight.
Onlookers whispered.
"Tch, can't even hold the sword right?"
"How's he gonna pass the Cradle exam like that?"
Ignoring the murmurs, Yuri exhaled deeply.
*Haaa— haaa—*
His mind focused on the sword amid the prolonged breaths, drowning out the noise.
The world narrowed to just him and the blade.
His senses expanded rapidly.
Everything projected straight into his brain.
Gazes from behind.
Pointing fingers aimed his way.
Every detail within a few meters registered sharply; time in the world slowed.
*Not enough.*
Normally, he'd stop here.
This had sufficed to navigate past troubles before.
But his opponent now was the famed Black Sword soldier.
Dipping a toe wouldn't cut it.
He had to dive in headfirst.
*Here goes!*
Resolved, Yuri sharpened his mind's edge.
His consciousness felt sucked into the sword.
*Guh!*
A sensation after seven long years.
Soon, a floating lightness washed over his body, like submersion in water—goosebumps rising.
*It's horrifying, seriously!*
Drifting endlessly on a vast ocean, bare-bodied.
He'd avoided swords to escape this dreadful feeling.
Feared losing his sense of self amid eternal drift.
*Snap out of it!*
Yuri steadied himself.
This was just the beginning.
*It's coming!*
And as if on cue—
*Grrr...*
A beast's growl echoed in one corner of his awareness.
*It's here... coming!*
*Grrrrowl!*
With the beast's roar, a black shadow approached through the selfless ocean.
Like a massive whale lunging from beneath the surface.
*Splash!*
The swelling black mass engulfed Yuri, adrift on the waves.
And from that moment, changes rippled into reality.
"Huh? Isn't it getting darker?"
"Yeah? Shower coming?"
The surroundings had noticeably dimmed compared to moments ago.
That was the start.
*Drip—*
Shadows writhed at Yuri's feet.
Subtle at first, but as they climbed his body, everything accelerated.
"Huh?!"
"Th-that?!"
The shadows surged vertically from Yuri's form, ballooning in size.
0.01 seconds.
To ordinary eyes, the black aura inflating house-sized appeared instantaneous.
And then.
*Grrowl—*
Two holes formed in the black shadow.
Like eyes, they scanned around, curving into crescents.
*Heh heh heh—*
A massive slit—presumed a mouth—tore wide at the sides.
*Kyakyakya—*
Soundless, yet it felt like an evil grin.
"Th-that!"
"Huh?!"
People recoiled in horror at the ghost-, demon-, or specter-like sight.
"Wh-what is that! G-ghost?!"
"M-monster!"
"D-demon! A demon appeared!"
Shouts of alarm erupted everywhere.
Terror-stricken folk backed away.
But those who recognized Yuri's black manifestation were shocked most.
*Th-that's?!*
*Impossible!*
Black Sword Squad 8 Leader and Ashraf Irons.
Veterans who'd reached Certified 7th Dan through experience instantly knew what loomed over Yuri's head.
*Demon? Not some lowly demon!*
The black form wasn't for crude labels.
To those walking the path of no-mind, it was a dream—a goal.
The squad leader and Ashraf cried out in unison, like screams.
"Incarnation?!"
"Incarnation?!"
Incarnation.
Or "Transcendent Form," "Idea," "Mental Image Manifestation," "Avatar"—many names for the realm.
Its shapes varied just as much.
A single sword for some.
A massive beast for others.
A beautiful flower for yet more.
No fixed form, little known about it.
Yet Ashraf and the squad leader recognized it instantly, stunned for one reason.
The established truth of Incarnations.
Their presence separated Certified 9th Dan from Masters.
Only those called Masters could manifest them.
*Absurd!*
*Impossible... this can't be...!*
Even genius lifetime cultivators often died at Certified 9th Dan, never crossing to Incarnation.
Yet a mana-less common boy manifested a Master's exclusive domain?
Unimaginable—no, impossible.
But denying it was futile; the thing before them was unmistakably an Incarnation.
Overwhelming proof.
The clash between their knowledge and this reality left them reeling.
Then realization dawned.
Why they hadn't seen the boy's uniqueness.
Why Johan had burned his precious pardon to push him into the Cradle exam.
*He saw it!*
Johan, too, a Master in the ranks.
Another at the Incarnation realm—he'd recognized it.
What Yuri Holland harbored.
Meanwhile, Johan watched Yuri's Incarnation, his lips twisting.
"Kuhuku, pfuhuhu!"
Excitement, joy, satisfaction, pleasure, ecstasy, rapture.
A storm of emotions laced with madness.
"Finally..."
Rarely—vanishingly rarely—beings were born beyond common sense.
Talents at absurdity's pinnacle, unattainable even after dozens or hundreds of rebirths for ordinary folk.
Mutants born to realms others couldn't reach in lifetimes of toil.
The prime example: Sword Lord Luke Raider, ruler of the world.
Innate genius never to reappear.
The world was certain.
No one with the Sword Lord's talent would ever be born again.
Impossible.
But there was.
In a remote border of the distant continent, a monster with talent matching the Sword Lord's.
"Monster brat..."
Johan's eyes gleamed, mouth splitting wide in a feral grin.
"You've shed your human skin!"
From Johan's mutter—
*Kyakyakya—*
The black monster Yuri birthed lunged at the Black Sword soldier.