Chapter 29: The Assailants of the Assailants
“Hake?! What happened?!”
“I-I’m… fine… kuh!”
“Wound, deep, needs pressure—someone… ambush…!”
As they pulled the injured Hake behind them, Batan shouted orders.
“Melasa! Among us, you’re the one best at perception magic! Can you share the ability ‘Eyes of the Night Cat’ with us?”
She responded in a shaky voice, visibly flustered.
“Ah… I’m sorry. I… I can’t move yet…”
“…I see. That’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped.”
Batan, already suspecting as much, nodded with a grim face.
“We’ll handle it for now. Just finish your brew as quickly as possible.”
“Yes…! I’ll try my best.”
The witch clans had powerful magic that exceeded individual limits—but in exchange, they were bound by strict conditions.
No matter the situation…
“Back to back! Tighten your individual defense range!”
After a brief moment of panic, they quickly regrouped and moved according to Batan’s instructions.
However, the magical fish that illuminated their surroundings were too far off, and darkness cloaked the space around them.
“I’ll provide light!”
Batan, the golemancer, stepped up.
He specialized in summoning magical constructs known as golems.
Most people only knew of the classic clay-bodied variety, but…
“Parasitic Golem—Cordyceps! Summon!”
In truth, golems could vary greatly depending on the materials used to create them.
“Haaah!”
With a sharp breath, orange threads burst from Batan’s hand.
These threads were golems—thin, thread-like golems launched outward.
Fwoooosh!
The five magical fish linked to the threads trembled violently at first…
Then, as if nothing had happened, they elongated and branched out in all directions.
The bioluminescence they emitted bathed the space in light.
“They’re gone…?”
But no one was there—only the five of them and a pile of corpses.
“Kyaaaah!”
“Aaack! Kuh…!”
“Where’s it coming from?!”
Yet the ambush continued.
At times it was blazing fireballs, at times sharp throwing knives.
Crude stones were thrown, and even bizarre script-shaped attacks hurled at them.
“There!”
Wooooom!
Catching a trace of the enemy, Batan moved his golems to surround the area.
“Ooh—! Gotcha!”
Frau, the brawny martial artist, charged in with his fist wrapped in fiery mana.
“Bad guy—eliminate!”
Natuia, usually reserved and slow in speech, became unrecognizably sharp and precise as she darted forward, spear aimed to strike.
BOOM—! BAM BAM BAM—! WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH!
With their attacks aligned, the three unleashed a relentless offensive.
‘We got them! That hit for sure!’
Or so they thought.
But as the dust settled, what they saw was…
“…Damn it! No one’s there?!”
What they believed to be a perfect strike had missed from the beginning.
There was no one to hit.
No time to dwell on disappointment—more attacks kept flying at them, and all they could do was parry and dodge.
Backed into a corner, under pressure—
“Who are you?! Show yourselves! Fight us fairly!”
Unable to hold back his temper, Frau bellowed.
Being toyed with one-sidedly like this—it was beyond frustrating.
“Hm, well… shall we?”
“…!”
To their shock, the attackers revealed themselves willingly. Four figures in total.
Three of them were familiar.
“Timur?! How could you…?”
“Abito Yully… I knew this reeked of your scheming.”
“Natuia recognizes: top mage, Sercia Edelweiss.”
“And that man… who is he?”
The only unfamiliar face—the gray-haired man—lifted a hand and greeted them with a lazy smile.
“Yo. How’s it going?”
His unruly hair, crooked gait, laid-back demeanor—he looked like a good-for-nothing slacker.
But those blood-red eyes, gleaming even in the dark, told another story.
A chill crept down their spines. Their bodies bristled with instinctual alarm.
‘…This guy… is dangerous!’
All five of them reached the same conclusion and gripped their weapons tightly.
“This old man’s kinda interesting, don’t you think?”
Unfazed by the tension, Gale grinned and asked,
“How’s it feel? Being ambushed after ambushing others?”
He chuckled slyly.
“No hard feelings, right? We’re just returning the favor!”
As he finished speaking, Gale drew his sword—flash!—a blinding light burst from the blade.
He lunged at the closest target: Natuia, the spear-wielder.
“…!”
CLANG!
Steel clashed against steel, and thus, the battle began.
***
At the same time, elsewhere in the labyrinth—
“Aaaagh!”
Another brutal skirmish was underway.
Two groups faced off.
One side had over a dozen members.
The other—only three.
Normally, anyone would assume the side with numbers would win.
How could three people possibly triumph against so many?
“Unbelievable…”
But the reality here was quite different.
“Haha… this much of a gap?”
“They’re not just fellow examinees. Those three are…”
The trio was overwhelmingly dominating the fight.
Their identities? The swordsman trio—Calix and his allies.
Shhk—!
Sshhk! Swish—!
Wherever their blades passed, bodies fell cold and lifeless.
“…Monsters!”
Someone shouted in terror, prompting a dry laugh from the man at the front.
“Calling us monsters just because we outmatch you… what a shallow take.”
“Calix Zahardt!”
A blood-splattered examinee screamed and charged—but—
“Understanding the gap between you and your enemy—that’s also skill.”
Shhk!
It was a massacre.
A one-sided slaughter, yet the three showed no joy.
Their expressions were tense, uneasy.
“Why is this so boring?”
Duran grimaced.
“These guys were supposed to be the mage’s allies, right?”
“Agreed. And yet… they’re pathetically weak.”
Calix, finishing off the last grunt, casually swung his sword in the air.
Splat—
The blood flung off his blade hit the ground with a wet sound.
“The mage isn’t here.”
The three had attacked this group in pursuit of the one who used explosive magic—the mage who had brought them together.
—Zeraphe Gnaude, the mage.
They had assumed he would be the biggest obstacle in this test.
…Of course, they didn’t realize the mage behind the explosion was someone else entirely.
“The theme of Test 3 is survival. The setting is the underground labyrinth. Not a one-on-one tournament.”
“Which makes this… the perfect chance. Strategic opportunity.”
“Cut down the number of candidates as much as possible before Test 4.”
They all knew.
Test 4—personality evaluation—was essentially a game of luck.
Pass or fail depended entirely on the proctor’s judgment.
“……”
Fwooooosh—
A biting wind swept between them.
Chilled air slithered through the twisting corridors of the maze.
“Just in case, should we scout the area a bit?”
“Sure. I’ll take this direction.”
“Ooh! Then I’ll go that way!”
“……”
They had joined forces temporarily, driven by self-interest.
There was no deep bond—if anything, just lingering resentment.
Step, step.
“……”
As Calix walked silently, heading toward his designated direction, he abruptly stopped.
He was born to a noble knight family—the heir of the Zahardt line.
“Why are you following me?”
From birth, he’d been trained in knightly discipline.
Swordsmanship, reading intent, walking without sound…
As such, silent movement had become second nature to him.
Unless done intentionally, his footsteps were always noiseless.
“Zares Helthurio.”
And so was his pursuer.
“You noticed, huh? Annoying bastard.”
“Just say what you came to say.”
“I was going to anyway.”
Zares shrugged, ever the casual cynic.
“Honestly, the thought of having a face-to-face conversation with you makes my skin crawl.”
Calix gave a small, dry laugh.
“You talk well—for someone with eyes itching to start a fight.”
Despite his casual tone, Zares’ hazel eyes glowed with hostility.
It looked as if blood would start dripping from them at any moment.
“…Haha! You think I’m not already holding back?”
Zares tilted his head at an odd angle as he stepped closer.
“You’re really testing the limits of my patience, huh?”
Their murderous tension began to peak—but then deflated unexpectedly.
“All right, just one question.”
It started with Zares asking something—his expression uneasy.
“…How the hell did you even qualify to take the Hunter Exam?”
To his knowledge, Calix Zahardt hadn’t graduated from Rusram Academy.
He shouldn’t have met the eligibility criteria.
“I’ve never once heard of you attending the academy.”
If Calix had enrolled, the entire Arad Kingdom would’ve known.
The people of Arad loved their royal family—and likewise paid close attention to the noble Zahardt family.
‘The echoes of that day still linger. It’s not even been ten years yet…’
They were still sensitive to any Zahardt-related news.
—“I will never… inherit this family…!”
The year Calix turned eighteen, on his coming-of-age day…
A horrifying, tragic event shocked the nation.
—The Zahardt Tragedy, also known as “The Bloody Coming-of-Age.”
And ever since, Calix—once cheerful and kind—had completely changed.
—“All the glory, the wealth, the honor of Zahardt… I don’t want any of it! I will never forgive Zahardt!”
Though he was the only legitimate heir, he rejected the position and walked away from the family.
He left—to find freedom.
—“Calix Tutatio Zahardt! How dare you abandon Felix? Abandon Zahardt?!”
And for Zares Helthurio, that was something he could never understand or forgive.
Because he had once been close friends with Felix Custodia Zahardt, the original heir of Zahardt.
“This is insane… it makes no sense…”
Zares muttered in disbelief, thoroughly shaken.
But he knew—there was only one way someone ineligible could enter the Hunter Exam…