The atmosphere of the audience hall began to shift the moment Paon gave his consent to the head of the Lichtenauer martial family.
Clack, clack!
An elderly non-mage stepped into the hall following Paon Lichtenauer and walked directly in front of Ian.
“Heh heh! Then, let us begin the Gate Opening Ceremony of Ian Lichtenauer. Step forward, Ian Lichtenauer.”
At the mage’s words, Ian obediently straightened his knees and walked toward him.
Whoosh!
The mage withdrew a crimson jewel from within his robe.
The jewel radiated an extraordinary aura even to the eye alone. He placed it on Ian’s forehead and spoke:
“Then, Ian Lichtenauer. As a descendant of the martial family, may you meet a perfect companion who will walk this path with you.”
With the mage’s cryptic words, the space beneath Ian’s feet began to distort.
Flash!
The light emitted from the jewel filled the audience hall.
Through the slowly subsiding glow, Ian, who had been standing at the center moments ago, had vanished completely.
Only the elderly mage and the crimson jewel remained in that spot.
Yet everyone seemed unsurprised; no one questioned Ian’s disappearance.
Paon was no exception.
“Nedir, summon the Weapon Orb so everyone may see.”
“As you command, Lord.”
At Paon’s words, the mage, Nedir, raised his staff and channeled mana toward the jewel.
Woooooooom!
The jewel began to resonate with Nedir’s mana, slowly rising into the air and expanding in size.
The jewel broadened like the surface of a castle wall. Then, it shimmered transparently, reflecting someone’s figure.
The one reflected in the jewel was Ian.
Transported into the twisted space with the light, Ian surveyed his surroundings.
“Hah, these guys aren’t half bad,” he muttered, awed rather than panicked.
Everywhere around him shimmered a red light.
It was clearly not a naturally existing location.
This meant the mage’s jewel had created not a simple teleportation magic, but a space of the highest order—a unique barrier.
A place crafted by supreme magic, the kind only a ruler of the Martap in the southern continent, Bestrica, could wield.
Who would have imagined a noble family of a single kingdom, rather than a great empire, could possess an artifact containing such magic?
“Well, considering the Lichtenauer family’s standing in the southern continent… it’s not surprising.”
No matter what anyone said, the Lichtenauer family was one of the two absolute pillars symbolizing martial strength in the Asran Kingdom.
It wasn’t odd that the other pillar, the Martap, might gift an artifact as a token of friendship.
Swish!
Ian couldn’t linger in admiration forever. He lifted his head and slowly began to survey the crimson space.
The expanse seemed like a wide field.
In reality, there was no field—nothing but the undulating red space filled the surroundings.
Yet Ian still described it as a field.
Because lined up in orderly rows throughout this space were weapons—countless of them.
Like a field.
“Hmph, I see what’s going on.”
Though Ian excelled more at brute force than thinking, even he could grasp the situation.
The mage’s words before the space warped. The countless weapons.
It was clear what the Gate Opening Ceremony required of him.
A rite to formally recognize him as a member of the martial family.
A process to select a “companion” weapon, one that would grow alongside him as a warrior.
“Fine. If they’re giving, I won’t refuse.”
Clack, clack!
Realizing the purpose of the ceremony, Ian began walking across the weapon-strewn field within the jewel.
Ian’s progress inside the Weapon Orb was reflected for the audience hall’s officials to see.
“Hmm, he’s going deeper than expected. Quite surprising.”
Some expressed astonishment at Ian’s boldness.
“Tsk tsk tsk, slacking in training as usual, now overreaching beyond his station,” scoffed others.
“Hans, looks like that old man’s ambition has filled him with delusions. Tsk tsk,” another remarked, criticizing Ian’s attendant.
As Ian anticipated, the Lichtenauer Gate Opening Ceremony involved entering the Weapon Orb’s unique barrier and choosing a weapon that would become his other half.
The family’s treasury contained weapons crafted by the Lichtenauers themselves, and spoils taken from fallen foes.
Naturally, the deeper one went into the barrier, the higher the quality of the weapons available.
Some weapons were on par with legendary artifacts of the western continent’s Dharma Kingdom, crafted with secret arcane arts.
Yet obtaining such treasures required qualifications.
The barrier’s deeper zones applied exponentially increasing pressure.
Few attempted to reach the deepest weapons.
Reaching a legendary weapon meant it was no ordinary piece.
Such weapons did not allow unworthy wielders.
A foolish owner could be led to ruin if they tried.
Hence, Lichtenauer heirs were constantly advised never to overreach in the Gate Opening Ceremony.
To understand their limits, train daily, achieve merit, and gradually receive superior weapons.
That was the family’s ideal for a proper warrior.
So, seeing Ian boldly venture deeper naturally drew astonishment.
The space he entered was one even promising heirs rarely dared approach.
Among contemporary heirs, only Crown Prince Alex Lichtenauer and a few gifted cadets had reached such levels.
If Ian, a mere novice, pushed further, it might lead to unprecedented self-destruction in his first ceremony.
His recklessness left the hall’s officials no choice but to click their tongues in disapproval.
“Perhaps today, only the Crown Prince remains among the lord’s offspring… hmm?”
As everyone shook their heads, one noticed something odd and whispered.
“Hey, look.”
“What is it?”
“Am I seeing things, or is the novice choosing something… strange?”
“Don’t be surprised. Whatever he chooses there, failure is inevitable… huh?”
Even those observing the Orb grew wide-eyed.
“W-what is that?”
Creak!
The deeper Ian walked into the family’s field, the stronger the crushing pressure on his shoulders became.
The barrier’s pressure far exceeded anything exerted by warriors at the entrance of the Lord’s Hall.
Where that pressure had been a test of his skill, this was more like outright hostility.
A scorn for daring to tread so deep.
Thud, thud!
His muscles tore, bones strained.
“...Hah. A mere barrier dares…”
Ian had noticed that the quality of weapons grew exponentially deeper into the Orb.
But having faced countless treasures and masterpieces in his previous life, he knew that only the very deepest might hold something matching his skill.
He wasn’t after quality. He was searching for a weapon compatible with his Blood Chain Fist.
“Damn! Not even a single chain weapon in this family’s treasury?”
For Lucas—Ian’s former life—the perfect match was always chains.
The martial art itself included the character for “chain” (鎖).
The Golden Heavenly Chain he wielded in his past life destroyed enemies and protected him from all approaches.
“I don’t need it to be perfect. Anything similar to a chain will do.”
Ordinary swords or spears could still be used with his aura, but a familiar weapon maximized his strength.
Especially now, compared to his past life, the right weapon was crucial.
Yet, even in the family treasury, a suitable weapon was scarce.
Historically, apart from Lucas, no great chain-wielding warrior existed.
Supply matched demand—if no one used it, why craft it?
Ian found a barely usable substitute… but it was unsatisfying.
“Whips… no, too weak.”
Whips were the closest common weapon to chains, but Ian ignored them.
However, he had reached his limit.
The barrier’s pressure prevented further advance.
“…Fine. I’ll take the whip for now, make a chain at the forge later.”
As he turned to select the whip, one weapon caught his eye.
A pair of dual-handed swords.
“...This?”
Unusual. Unlike normal twin swords, the pair was asymmetrical.
One, a white right sword, long as a greatsword but narrow like a rapier.
The other, a black left blade, slightly longer than a dagger but twice as wide.
An odd pair no skilled warrior would choose… yet Ian couldn’t look away.
Clack, clack!
He walked confidently toward the swords.
Woooooooom!
Perhaps sensing him, the swords emitted threatening energy.
Crack!
The hostile aura smashed his knees against the ground.
Limp, limp!
Yet Ian pressed on, crawling toward the swords.
“I am Lucas Alexei.”
He would not yield to mere weapons.
Snatch!
Grasping the swords, Ian felt certain: among all choices in the Orb, none were a better match.
“Hah… hah…”
Finally, the red space of the jewel warped back.
The weapon field vanished like a dream, returning Ian to the audience hall—exhausted, but with the dual swords in hand.
Perhaps because officials had witnessed his ordeal, voices echoed:
“Tsk tsk. If incapable, choose what fits your station. What a disgrace at the ceremony.”
Some scorned Ian for crawling for a weapon.
“No, a true warrior must show such persistence! The novice may not be so foolish,” said others.
Opinions clashed.
“…So that weapon is your choice?”
Paon’s bored voice rang from the throne.
“Yes, I believe this is my best option,” Ian replied, unwavering despite the pain.
Officials’ opinions united.
“Madness, he chose black-and-white swords?”
“He can’t even handle a basic sword, yet claims this is best…”
“Perhaps he’s compensating for lack of skill with spectacle.”
Murmurs.
While Ian and Paon conversed calmly, the surrounding warriors buzzed with confusion.
Swish!
“Quiet.”
Paon raised his hand, restoring silence.
“When did others gain the right to judge the choices of the Gate Ceremony’s protagonist?”
No one spoke.
“Ian chose for himself. As a Lichtenauer warrior, he must bear the responsibility and consequences.”
Paon stood, looking at Ian.
“This concludes Ian’s Gate Opening Ceremony. Everyone may return to their duties.”
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