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Yuri snatched Johan’s sword as if seizing it by force and stepped out into the plaza.
The sudden turn of events caused murmurs of suspicion to erupt from all around.
“What on earth just happened? And what’s this about a deal?”
“So is Yuri taking the test or not?”
The relationship between Johan and Yuri.
Whether Yuri even had the right to take the Cradle’s test.
Countless questions were mixed together in a confused buzz of voices.
But no one was more bewildered than the Irons family, who had prepared today’s stage.
“…Who is that child?”
At Ashraf’s stiff inquiry, the retainers exchanged nervous glances.
Though their domain was on the frontier, the Irons family had expanded rapidly, and their population was nearing 20,000.
Even the retainers who handled administrative matters couldn’t possibly know every inhabitant.
As they hesitated, the oldest-looking retainer finally stepped forward.
“She seems to be one of the refugees we took in. I’ll find out for sure and report back before the day ends.”
“Do so.”
Ashraf nodded, but his rigid expression didn’t soften.
And for good reason: they had meticulously prepared this stage for today.
Yet the attention that should have been on Gunter was drifting elsewhere because of Johan.
Look at them now.
“Weren’t the masters here to see our young lord?”
“Yeah, why are they watching that boy instead?”
People were already gossiping about Johan choosing a commoner boy over Gunter.
“Hmph…”
Ashraf let out a low groan, betraying his discomfort.
His gaze turned to Johan.
‘Johan Redner.’
Why was he ignoring his own son in favor of some ordinary boy?
‘What in the world did you see in that child?’
Unable to shake off his growing doubts, Ashraf’s eyes remained fixed on Johan.
Meanwhile, Gunter, standing beside his father, was lost in his own thoughts.
‘Who is he?’
The boy looked about his age—perhaps even younger, given his small frame.
Gunter examined Yuri with curious eyes, only to feel a twinge of disappointment.
‘He doesn’t have a trained body.’
Even through the shabby clothes, there were no signs of physical training.
At best, his build was just a little more balanced than other kids his age.
And yet Johan, a sword master, had used a dragon token—a once-in-a-lifetime privilege—on this boy.
It made no sense.
The same question was on the minds of the Black Sword soldiers.
“Hm…”
The leader of the Black Sword’s 8th Squad looked toward Yuri, who was rolling his shoulders in the center of the plaza.
‘I don’t get it. Johan used his token on a boy like that?’
Johan was one of the few people his master recognized as a true powerhouse.
The squad leader had been secretly excited to see the kind of talent Johan had chosen.
‘Why him?’
But the boy Johan had recommended fell far short of expectations.
His physique.
His stance.
His breathing.
Not a single thing hinted at disciplined training.
More importantly—
‘I can’t sense a trace of mana.’
As someone who had reached Certified Level 7, he could detect the lingering mana of anyone below Level 9 unless they were deliberately suppressing it.
And this boy clearly wasn’t at that level.
Which meant Yuri hadn’t accumulated any mana—the foundation of martial sorcery.
That was a serious problem.
In the last fifty years, not a single candidate for the Cradle’s qualification test had lacked mana training.
‘Johan must know that…’
If Johan still used the token, it meant he had seen something the squad leader couldn’t.
‘Well, I’ll just have to see for myself.’
He nodded.
“Begin.”
At the squad leader’s command, the soldier who had tested Gunter stepped forward and shouted,
“Those taking the test, step forward!”
A bored voice answered,
“I already did.”
“…State your name.”
“Yuri Holland.”
His relaxed tone made the Black Sword soldier frown briefly.
Then he steadied himself and shouted,
“By the laws set by the Master of the Great Sword, under the witness of five members of the Black Sword 8th Squad, the Cradle Qualification Test shall now begin! The test will be settled by exchange of strikes. Enter whenever you’re ready.”
The format was the same as Gunter’s. The soldier drew his sword and stood at ease, as if daring Yuri to come.
Yuri also drew Johan’s sword.
Shhhhk—
The blade shimmered with waves of silver and black as it slid from its sheath.
Johan’s sword was a narrow dao, like the Black Sword soldier’s weapon, with a slightly curved tip.
It was a style brought to the central continent by ancient Eastern settlers.
And it was unmistakably a fine sword.
Yuri’s impression of it was simple.
“It’s heavy.”
Not only physically, but also emotionally.
That weight was fear.
‘How long has it been since I pointed a blade at someone…?’
Yuri hadn’t held a sword since he became aware of his curse.
He feared that grasping a blade would summon the monster again.
And that he would be swallowed by the curse entirely.
So, to survive, he’d avoided swords for seven long years.
As he gripped the weapon again, memories of that first horrific day came flooding back.
The feel of the kitchen knife in his hand.
[Aaaaaargh!]
A scream tearing through his ears.
[Splaash—]
Blood splattering across his vision.
His pupils shook briefly with the vivid flashback, but he regained control.
Yuri tightened his grip and spoke to the Black Sword soldier.
“I’m warning you.”
“…?”
“I can’t control my strength. Survive if you can.”
His casual warning made the soldier scowl in disbelief.
Yuri sighed softly.
‘I warned him. If anyone dies, it’s not on me.’
He tossed the scabbard aside and raised the sword with both hands.
The blade wobbled.
He couldn’t even handle its weight properly.
People started murmuring.
“Tch, he can’t even hold the sword right.”
“How’s he supposed to pass like that?”
Ignoring them, Yuri exhaled slowly.
Fweee… fweee…
With each long breath, his mind sharpened. The noise faded away.
It felt like only he and the sword existed.
His senses expanded rapidly.
He could feel everything around him—people pointing, watching, whispering.
Time itself seemed to slow down.
‘Not enough.’
Normally, he would stop here.
That level of focus had been enough to get him through many dangers.
But this was the Black Sword.
Dipping his toes wouldn’t cut it.
He had to dive in completely.
‘Let’s go.’
He honed his concentration like a blade.
And suddenly, he felt his mind being drawn into the sword.
‘Tch!’
After seven long years, the sensation returned.
His body felt like it was floating, submerged in water. Goosebumps broke out.
‘God, I hate this…!’
It was like drifting alone across an endless, dark sea.
He had avoided picking up a blade again because he feared losing himself in that void.
‘Stay focused!’
He steeled himself.
This was only the beginning.
‘It’s coming!’
And then he heard it.
—Grrrrrr…
A beast’s growl echoed in a corner of his mind.
‘It’s coming…!’
—Grrrrrrk!
A massive black shadow surged toward him through the void like a whale rising from the depths.
Whoooosh!
The shadow exploded in size and swallowed him whole.
And in reality, Yuri began to change.
“What’s going on? Did it get darker?”
“Yeah… is it about to rain?”
The plaza grew noticeably darker.
That was the beginning.
Shlrrrp—
Yuri’s shadow rippled beneath his feet.
At first it was subtle, but then it climbed his body, and everything changed.
“Wha—?!”
“Look! Look at that!”
The shadow surged upward, swelling in size.
In just 0.01 seconds, the black energy ballooned to the size of a house, appearing to onlookers as if it had materialized out of nowhere.
And then—
Grrrk—
Two holes appeared in the shadow, like eyes.
They scanned the surroundings and curved into crescent shapes.
Heheheh—
A massive slit of a mouth tore open, forming a wicked, soundless smile.
“Th-that!”
“Aaaah!”
It looked like a ghost. A demon. A monster.
“W-what is that?! A ghost?!”
“A m-monster!”
“It’s a demon! A demon has appeared!”
Panic spread. People stumbled back in fear.
But the ones most shocked were those who recognized what Yuri had summoned.
‘That… that’s…!’
‘Impossible!’
The 8th Squad Leader and Ashraf Irons—both Certified Level 7 warriors—understood immediately.
‘That’s not a demon.’
The shadow above Yuri’s head was something far greater.
The dream and goal of all who walk the Path of Nothingness.
They screamed almost simultaneously:
“An… Avatar?!”
“Avatar?!”
Avatar (化身).
Also called “Transcendent Form,” “Idea,” “Mental Projection,” or “Incarnation.”
Its forms varied—
For some, it was a sword.
For others, a beast.
For others still, a flower.
There was no fixed shape, and little was known.
But there was one reason the two were so stunned.
The presence of an Avatar distinguished Level 9 experts from true Masters.
Only Masters could manifest Avatars.
‘Absurd!’
‘This can’t be happening!’
Even prodigies spent their lives failing to cross that threshold.
And yet this boy—who hadn’t even accumulated mana—had summoned an Avatar?!
It was unthinkable.
But undeniable.
The gap between common sense and what they were witnessing threw them into confusion.
And then they understood.
Why they hadn’t recognized the boy’s uniqueness.
Why Johan had spent his precious token on him.
‘He recognized it…!’
Johan, himself a Master, had seen it—the monstrous potential Yuri Holland carried.
Johan’s lips twisted into a grin as he watched Yuri’s Avatar rise.
“Heheheh… fufufufufu!”
Excitement. Joy. Satisfaction. Ecstasy. And a sliver of madness.
“At last…”
Sometimes, very rarely, a being is born with talent so outrageous it defies reason.
Genius beyond reach, even if one lived a hundred lives.
One such being was the Sword Lord, Luke Rider, the ruler of the world.
The entire world believed such talent would never appear again.
It was impossible.
But there it was.
On the distant frontier of the continent—another monster equal to the Sword Lord.
“That little monster…”
Johan’s eyes gleamed, and his mouth stretched into a feral smile.
“He’s shed his human skin.”
And with Johan’s muttering—
Kyaaaaa!
The black monster Yuri had summoned lunged at the Black Sword soldier.
