'This isn't right...'

Unexpectedly, on the final day of the semester evaluation, he found himself trembling as he was the first to step onto the stage. However, the die had already been cast, and there was no turning back from this trial.

'You can do this. You have to.'

As if hypnotizing himself, he gritted his teeth, clutching two silver coins in his pocket. These coins, given to him by someone he deeply respected, had become a kind of talisman for him recently.

Barry Cobbs, a first-year student of the swordsmanship department—known affectionately as "Bear Cub No. 11"—drew strength from the coins' presence, shaking off his fear as he brandished his spear.

Whoosh!

Thud!

The spear pierced forward, but the stone monster barely flinched. Barry swiftly dodged, remembering the countless hours spent in Vulcan learning how to face larger opponents. He knew well that survival depended on evasive maneuvers.

'I’ve taken down plenty of boars; I can do this!'

…Or, so he thought. Upon reflection, Barry realized that most of those hunts were either joint efforts or finished off by his instructor. As he silently berated himself for his overconfidence, the stone troll, now irritated, lunged at him.

GRRRR!!

"Hrgh!"

Focusing all his energy on his legs, Barry pushed off the ground with a powerful leap. Not to strike the monster, but simply to avoid its deadly charge. Some might question why he dodged instead of attacking, but the answer was clear—

BOOM!

"Kuh!"

This was why.

The stone troll's path of destruction left the ground torn apart, the sheer mass of its body obliterating everything in its wake. If Barry had tried to face it head-on, he would have been turned into a mangled corpse.

"Huff..."

But Barry wasn’t despairing. In the past, he would have been paralyzed with fear just at the sight of such a monster. Even though this wasn’t a real troll, it was still a terrifying creature no normal human could hope to defeat. Yet here he was, still standing, still fighting.

'I can dodge, I can fight back!'

There was a strange joy in knowing that he could hold his own, and Barry quickly steadied himself, readying his spear once more for the next round of dodges.

Though he wasn’t despairing, there was one thought that did cross his mind.

'...Trolls are truly absurd monsters.'

Crack!

GRRRRR!!

Watching the creature regenerate, Barry couldn’t help but feel a wave of disbelief wash over him. The stone troll had crashed into the wall from its reckless charge, but its broken body was already starting to pull itself back together. It was an artificial monster created with the blood of trolls, giving it a certain level of regenerative ability.

'Is this really something they expect us to pass? Does the academy even have a conscience?!'

Barry couldn’t help but inwardly curse the ridiculous difficulty of the test.

"Come on, Barry, do better!"
"Give it your all, Barry!"
"Show some guts!"
"That thing belongs back in Vulcan!"

"...Geez, just insult my parents instead."
"Oops, that was a bit too much."

Despite the mixed insults and cheers from his classmates, they were still rooting for him in their own way.

"Senior, you can do it!" came a sweeter voice, filled with encouragement, from the "Victory Goddess" who represented his fellow "Bear Cubs."

'I have to win. I have to, no matter what.'

Fueled by the cheers of his comrades, Barry charged at the stone troll once again, this time with even more determination.

 

Watching Barry's display of courage, three students in the crowd spoke up honestly.

"He’s going to lose."
"Yeah, it's over."
"He doesn’t stand a chance."

These were the first-year swordsmanship trio, a group that had come to be known as the school's most reliable swordsmen. As they observed Barry's desperate charge, they confidently predicted the outcome of the battle.

"Senior Barry will lose?" asked Levi Fault, one of their peers, to which Arno nodded firmly.

"Unless he times his 'Spear Strike' perfectly to exploit a critical opening, he’ll just end up wasting his stamina. Barry lacks the cool-headedness to approach this fight strategically. He’s fighting emotionally, and that’s why he can’t move tactically. If he had a wider perspective, this might have been a more even match."

Indeed, it was nearly impossible for Barry to win against the stone troll at his current skill level. Though he had a strong single attack with his spear technique, it wasn’t enough to keep up with the troll's overwhelming regenerative abilities. What he needed were multiple strikes, not just one powerful blow.

As if on cue—

CRASH!

"Gahh!"

Barry managed to land a solid hit on the troll’s shoulder with his 'Spear Strike,' but the creature didn’t even flinch, continuing its assault with its massive bulk. Barry tried to raise his spear again, but his stamina was already drained. The troll didn’t miss the opportunity, charging at him full force.

GRRR!

BAM!

Barry was sent flying as the troll’s massive fist slammed into him.

It was over.

The audience collectively held their breath as they watched Barry crumple to the ground, shaking their heads. From start to finish, it was a crushing defeat.

"That idiot. He should’ve spent more time practicing with his sword instead of studying for debates."
"Well, at least his debate scores were decent, so he won’t be expelled."
"Yeah, there’s that."

Though their words were harsh, the students felt bitter watching Barry lose. They all knew that they could easily find themselves in the same situation—defeated, helpless, and embarrassed in front of their peers.

And yet, while the students saw only a pitiful loss, the spectators had a different perspective.

"Wow, how can someone even charge at a monster like that?"
"He’s brave! Just what you'd expect from the swordsmanship department!"
"I heard he’s a commoner."
"...A commoner managed to wound a stone troll? Was that troll defective?"

For the spectators, it was a spectacle of courage. Where the students saw an embarrassing defeat, the public saw a warrior’s bravery. Facing down a monster like the stone troll with just a spear was akin to a hero challenging a giant with nothing but a club.

And in Pendragon, a kingdom that prized valor and combat prowess, Barry Cobbs was earning admiration for his courage, regardless of the result.

"He really fought well, didn't he? Even if he lost."
"It’s a tradition set by the late king. Those who fight valiantly deserve respect."
"...Sounds like a romantic ideal."

As flowers and applause rained down in the Colosseum, Levi Fault couldn’t help but ask:

"Uh… isn’t anyone going to check if Senior Barry’s okay?"

[……Ah.]

Finally snapping out of their daze, the other students rushed to check on Barry, belatedly showing their concern.

 

Luckily, Barry Cobbs survived.

"Ugh, this hurts like hell…"
"Oh, quit whining."
"Does having all my limbs broken look like whining to you?"

Though he wasn’t dead, he was definitely injured—severely so. Yet, despite his pain, it didn’t seem like anything was critically wrong. Even a concussion would have been expected, but in this Colosseum, fortunately—

"Thank the gods for Divine Law."
"At least no one’s going to die here."

Divine Law, the holy power wielded by priests of the one true god, The Light of Radiance. This sacred power blanketed the entire Colosseum, ensuring that even severe injuries would not lead to death.

Barry’s wounds, too, would heal quickly within the realm of Divine Law. The Colosseum was a place of safe battle—where no one could die, thanks to the miraculous power of the gods.

One individual in particular was deeply impressed by this.

"Kunta wants Divine Law! If we had this, no one in our tribe would ever be hurt again!"

The barbarian warrior from a tribe constantly suffering from monster attacks gazed at the divine protection with childlike wonder. However, Arno quickly shattered his innocent hopes.

"I wouldn’t recommend it."
"Why not?"

"It doesn’t work on real monsters. Only on these controlled, artificial ones. If a real monster attacked, Divine Law wouldn’t stand a chance. Right now, we’re only safe because of the priests constantly managing the system in real-time. Outside of that, it’s basically useless."

"Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive to set up. You’d probably have to live off porridge for the rest of your life just to afford one installation."

"...Kunta doesn’t want Divine Law anymore."

Disappointed, Kunta slumped his shoulders. Just when it seemed like he would give in to despair, his attention was quickly drawn elsewhere.

"Don’t lose hope just yet. Looks like our department’s star is about to take the stage."

"...Oooh!"

The barbarian's eyes lit up with excitement, his earlier disappointment forgotten in an instant. Though Divine Law had failed to impress, there was no way the next event would.

"I am Roen Dreamit de Lionel. I vow to fight a battle worthy of my name, under the watch of the dragon, the lion, and the fairies."

With those words, the young lion drew his sword.

 

A line of carriages stretched endlessly along the road. But these weren’t just any carriages—these were luxurious, high-class vehicles belonging to the nobility and wealthy merchant unions. Even the more modest carriages bore the marks of prestigious guilds.

In the past, some of these people had gathered during the war games to catch the attention of the princess. But today was different. This time, the people who gathered were not the usual riffraff. These were the elites, those who rarely moved from their seats of power.

After the semester evaluation, the academy students were given a week-long break, and many parents had come personally to retrieve their children. Even the highest-ranking nobles and wealthiest merchants showed up, proving that no matter their status, they were still parents.

Of course, their presence wasn’t purely driven by parental affection.

"Count Jeremy, it's been ages!"
"Isol Merchant Lord? What brings you here?"
"Haha, my child enrolled this year."
"You should have told me sooner."
"How could I bother you with such trivial matters?"
"You’re the busy one, aren’t you?"
"Hardly!"
"Hahaha!"

It was the perfect opportunity for high-ranking figures to meet under the guise of coincidence, using their children's education as an excuse to discuss business and politics. The academy gate became a gathering point for carriages, and soon a large crowd headed towards the Colosseum for the final day of the evaluation.

And while most kept their intentions and ambitions hidden behind smiles, there was one man observing the crowd with disdain.

"...A herd of filthy pigs, all gathered in one place."

A man in priestly robes stood amidst the crowd, his brows furrowed in disgust. His habitual scowl was etched deep into his features, as if he were always sneering.

His gaze fell upon the wealthy and powerful individuals in the crowd, and for a moment, it seemed like he might act on his disdain. But—

"Aren’t we pigs as well, then?"
"...I won’t deny it, but don’t remind me."
"Haha, sorry, boss."
"You reckless fool."

The man’s companion, teasing him lightly, managed to calm him down.

Yes, for now, patience was required.

The priest mumbled under his breath, and his companion smirked, noticing the tension begin to fade from his leader’s posture.

"We don’t have to do anything ourselves. The ones we’ve targeted will be butchered regardless. The preparations are flawless."

"Are you sure?"
"Unless some aura users or skilled warriors show up, nothing will go wrong. From what I saw on today’s list, there aren’t any strong fighters in attendance."
"That’s true."

"Let’s just sit back and enjoy the show. It’s a rare festival, after all!"

"It’s not a festival—it’s an evaluation. You should speak properly. The students are risking their lives out there."

"Tch, you’re full of weird talk today."

His companion shrugged. After all, what the priest said was absurd.

"You're the one planning to kill every last student here, and you're talking like that?"

The priest’s words didn’t match his true intentions at all, and it was nothing short of unsettling. Yet, the priest seemed completely at ease.

"Killing them? Don’t speak so crudely."

Click.

"What awaits them is not death, but a glorious blessing. They should be honored. They’ll be satisfied, I’m sure."

As he spoke, the priest made the sign of the cross, lifting a small, gleaming silver crucifix.

"They're so very fortunate."

Yes, how fortunate they were to become sacrifices.

The priest was sincerely envious of the lambs who would soon be slaughtered.