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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Defiant Wild Dogs
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Regardless of Ian's biting assessment, the fight between the man and the young girl was growing increasingly fierce.
"You little runt, dodging every which way like a pro! Damn, you're quick!"
Whoosh! Whoosh!
She evaded the halberd's chilling spearhead aimed at her torso, and the weapon sliced through empty air before stabbing repeatedly into the training ground's floor.
Crack! Crunch!
No matter how worn and ancient the training ground was, its floor was solid stone.
It meant even a weapon without aura wrapped around it couldn't pierce it like soft tofu so easily.
That massive frame of his was no mere ornament—truly impressive strength.
"It's not that I'm dodging well."
Despite her petite build reminiscent of a small animal, the girl showed no fear before the menacing halberd as she shot back.
"Doesn't it occur to you that you're just too damn slow?"
Crack!
The halberd plunged into the ground once more.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Seizing the opening, she stepped onto the thick blade and leaped into the air.
Gliding through the sky, she pulled two small pouches from her bosom and hurled them straight at the hulking man, bursting them open.
Poof!
Purple powder scattered over the man's head.
Anyone with half a brain could guess it was poison.
And the man was no fool.
"Hmph! You think some cowardly, dirty poison trick like that will work on a man's man like me?!"
Grrrrrind!
Gripping with both hands, he yanked the halberd free from the training ground with a harsh scraping sound.
Then, crossing his arms, he spun it rapidly overhead.
Whooooosh!
The wind pressure he whipped up blew the falling poison dust away in all directions, scattering it before it could settle.
The three children who had been watching the bout with interest frowned as the powder drifted toward them too.
They each took measures against the poison in their own way.
"Tch! Filthy..."
Humm!
The frail-looking boy silently formed hand seals, erecting a transparent barrier in front of him to block the poison dust.
A 3rd-class spell: Shield.
Step, step!
The sharp-featured boy of average build, with a dao at his waist, retreated precisely two steps—just far enough to avoid the dust.
"Eek! P-Poison!"
Flicker! Flicker!
The girl in priestess robes flailed in panic, probably due to her timid nature, spamming purification spells wildly at the few specks drifting her way.
'Well, now...'
Ian's gaze sharpened slightly as he observed the two clashing fighters and the three handling the chaos.
According to Alex, considering Ian had just undergone his Gate Opening Ceremony, the squad members were assigned to match his age as closely as possible.
Of course, the real motive was probably a petty desire not to waste strong, seasoned troops on him.
Still, Ian couldn't shake the thought that these five were more skilled than expected.
One glimpse reveals the whole, after all.
The two sparring were clearly far above average for their age.
And judging by the other three's responses, they weren't far behind either.
The reason was simple.
None of the three watchers seemed intimidated by the fight.
Not even the timid priestess girl overusing purification on the poison.
'To think talents like these are treated as rejects...'
Ian's eyes gleamed.
In the eyes of the Overlord who once ruled the empire, they were raw gems.
Unpolished by anyone so far, they'd been dismissed as troublesome headaches.
In other words, with the right shaping, they could shine like priceless jewels.
'This could be fun.'
A shabby hut, rundown training ground, and a mere five members—this paper-thin strike team.
Yet Ian was starting to look forward to life ahead.
Whoooosh!
As Ian quietly gathered his thoughts, wind tousled his hair again.
Turning, he saw the man furious to his core.
"You... damn brat...!"
Sizzle!
Faint, but an orange aura seeped from the halberd.
'Oh? Aura too?'
No doubt about it.
Pathetic as a speck yet, it was unmistakably aura.
Given his abrasive personality, he probably hadn't received proper training in the squad.
Awakened on his own before twenty, through self-study no less.
Undeniable talent.
But admiration aside, Ian felt the need to intervene.
'Any longer, and this could get serious.'
With aura in play, it was no longer kids' roughhousing.
Perhaps sensing the same, the girl's eyes now held tension and resolve as she faced him—unlike before.
...Rustle!
The girl prepared something from her bosom, while the man gripped his orange-aura-clad halberd.
Finally, they clashed.
"Dieeee!"
Shwoooom!
The halberd descended with aura, poised to cleave her skull.
Believing the killing intent real, as she reached into her bosom to grab something—
Thwack!
A sudden hand pressed her elbow, halting her.
And simultaneously—
Kiiiiing!
Sparks flew red above her head.
A long, slender sword had deflected the falling halberd.
Krunch!
The aura-infused halberd slammed into the ground.
Ian, foot planted atop it, murmured lowly.
"First meeting aside, this seems plenty for playtime."
Meeting Ian's eyes, the girl seemed to sense something; she slowly withdrew her hand and relaxed her stance at his words.
"...If that wild boar hadn't picked a fight out of nowhere, I wouldn't have bothered engaging."
But unlike her, the man—back to Ian—hadn't seen his gaze.
Still raging, he bellowed.
"Who the hell are you to call it quits?! If you're gonna interfere, I'll sort you out first!"
Grrrind!
Veins bulging on tensed arms, he yanked to uproot the halberd—with Ian still atop—intending to lift the whole thing.
Or tried to.
"...Huh?"
The man's dumbfounded reaction followed.
Why... won't it budge?
"Is that so?"
In his panicked view, Ian stood firm on the halberd, head turned toward him.
"Then I'll just have to force some quiet on you."
Smack!
"Gahk!"
A short, blunt black sword now in Ian's left hand.
Its flat struck the man's temple dead-on, eyes rolling back.
"You... sneaky... bastard..."
Cheap shot?
Unable to finish, he spat a final curse and collapsed onto the training ground.
Thud!
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Splash!
Cold water hit his face, sharpening his foggy mind bit by bit.
"Ugh..."
Feeling the dull throb at his temple, the man opened his eyes.
"Awake?"
Five others sat around him, excluding himself.
Back at the training ground where he'd blacked out.
"You sneaky bastard, hitting from behind like a..."
"Everyone's up, so let me introduce myself properly."
Ian cut off the man's outburst.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Ian Lichtenauer, appointed captain of the Hidden Dragon... or as that friend put it, this worm squad. You've all heard the rumors about me, so no need for lengthy intros, right?"
At Ian's self-introduction, faint anger flickered in all five eyes, including the one who'd fainted.
Ian Lichtenauer.
Impossible to ignore the rumors.
A man bearing two ill-fitting epithets.
Direct lineage of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan—and a halfwit.
Those mismatched labels made him a stumbling block dragging down his brother, Eldest Young Lord Alex Lichtenauer.
When word spread that this guy—right after his Gate Opening Ceremony—was taking command of a brand-new strike team, not even as a mere member, how absurd it felt.
Unlike them, he started high on privilege alone: elite bloodline others could only dream of.
What grated more was being selected for this trash squad under such a leader.
No one here could stomach the ridiculous appointment.
"Bullshit!"
Whoosh!
The revived giant, Ralph, exploded at Ian's intro.
"Born with a silver spoon, coasting on a great brother without a day's hardship—now you think you can lord over me? Don't make me laugh!"
Ralph Kalia.
From one of the three vassal houses of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, a collateral of the Kalia soldier house famed for masterful heavy weapon use.
Collateral, but third son of Vito Kalia—current patriarch's brother—so not distant.
Yet he idled in this post due to his hot-headed recklessness and disfavor from Manus Kalia, rival heir alongside Alex.
For him, acknowledging Ian—who outwardly sheltered under Alex—was no easy task.
Swish!
"Ralph's words are crude, but I agree. Strip away the 'direct lineage' title, what right do you have to lead? I doubt you're vessel enough for us."
The sharp-faced man with dao at waist added to Ralph's rant.
Ryu An Palcion.
Fourth son of the Palcion sword house, another vassal alongside Kalia.
Why a direct heir fell from grace? Simple: unlike his siblings, he chose dao over sword.
Palcion swordsmanship was elite, renowned even in the Khan Empire of the East Continent.
To the patriarch, the sword was faith, conviction.
Choosing otherwise sealed his fate.
"..."
Sylvia Clonen, from another vassal—the Clonen dark house—said nothing, for some reason.
Just watching Ian—the one whose eyes she'd met earlier—with an odd gaze.
The mage boy and priestess girl stayed silent too.
As near-directs or collaterals, untouchable by most.
With overflowing talent, they never imagined serving under anyone.
"Hmm..."
Scratching his chin, Ian eyed the five awaiting his response to Ralph and Ryu An.
"So, to sum up: none of you accept me, right?"
Swish!
Ian brushed off his rear and stood.
The five watched his next move intently.
Countless had tried recruiting them before.
Wild dogs or not, they knew their own talent best.
—Please, let's make this work. Why go astray?
Some pleaded.
—Is that how you act?! You're a disgrace to the clan!
Others berated.
What would this halfwit do?
Maybe whimper to the patriarch like the spineless rumors said.
That'd be a blessing.
Proving the halfwit a halfwit.
Proving the appointment a mistake.
Letting them strut back as wild dogs.
But defying their expectations, Ian merely passed by, heading into the "nest" building.
As if utterly indifferent to them standing dumbfounded.
"...What? Hey!"
Ralph yelled at Ian's back in the absurdity, but Ian replied without turning.
"You said you won't accept me? Then get lost. I don't want brainless fools clinging to empty pride either."
With that, he walked in without another word.
The five stood like statues, staring blankly at his retreating figure.
"...What the hell was that?"
Swish!
As Ralph muttered in stunned disbelief, one person—lost in thought—suddenly followed Ian.