Chapter 151 – The Worth of Silver Ward

  “What a farce.”

  A voice rose from the edge of the crowd.

  “So the rumors were exaggerated.”

  Four adventurers stepped forward, weapons drawn.

  “If Iron Flash is a joke, then you’re nothing as well, Silver Ward.”

  “…Ah?”

  Rivel shot upright from the dirt.

  His grin vanished.

  Bloodshot eyes locked onto the speaker.

  The twin-headed crimson spear spun once in his grip.

  “Talk trash about me? Fine.”

  His voice dropped.

  “But about her? You want a death wish?”

  “And what can you do, brat?” one of them sneered. “Collapse from a slap?”

  Laughter rippled outward.

  Not nervous this time.

  Mocking.

  Rivel’s expression did not change.

  “She’s better than me,” he said plainly. “If you want to try her, beat me first.”

  The laughter died instantly.

  The four shifted stances.

  “We’re Iron Rank—”

  “Third-rate party. Shut up.”

  “…What?”

  Space opened naturally.

  Veterans stepped back.

  A circle formed.

  Seraphine gently picked Ivaline up by the shoulders and carried her out of the forming arena.

  Ivaline blinked, still processing events.

  Rivel rolled his shoulders.

  “All of you at once. I don’t waste time on nobodies.”

  “The hell did you say!?”

  “No,” Rivel corrected calmly. “You’re just trash.”

  “GET HIM!”

  All four lunged at once.

  A mace crushed downward.

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  A flail arced in from the side.

  An axe cleaved toward his shoulder.

  A sword pierced for his throat.

  “Sssss…”

  Rivel inhaled sharply.

  His crimson spear ignited.

  Runes flared.

  BOOM.

  One thrust.

  Just one.

  The spearhead flashed.

  In that blink—

  Steel collided with steel.

  Sword redirected into axe.

  Axe slammed into mace.

  Mace disrupted the flail’s arc.

  Momentum compounded.

  Formation shattered.

  Then—

  Flame erupted.

  The four were blasted backward like broken dolls.

  They crashed near the bonfire, rolling in ash and sparks.

  Silence.

  Ivaline’s [Perception] caught every detail.

  The precise angle correction.

  The chained redirections.

  The burst rune activated at the final impact.

  “…What was that?”

  “A magic weapon.”

  Garrick appeared beside her as if he’d always been there.

  “After losing to you, he reforged it. Both spearheads engraved. One bursts flame. The other carries rigid frost.”

  Nyssa nudged him.

  “You were tailing us the whole time, weren’t you? Waiting for dramatic timing?”

  “FCK! Don’t expose me like that!”

  He coughed.

  “Anyway. He rarely uses the runes. Guess he wanted you to see. How he’s change for the better.”

  “FCK! You exposed me old man!”

  “Feel my misery, young one.”

  Rivel turned back.

  More figures stepped forward.

  “We’re—”

  “Just come.”

  And they did.

  Again.

  And again.

  Groups challenged him.

  Some dispersed cleverly.

  Some tried flanking.

  Some tried ranged pressure.

  Flame burst.

  Blunt-end strikes.

  Bodies flew.

  The rigid frost rune remained sheathed.

  He did not draw it.

  He did not need to.

  By the seventh group, his breathing staggered.

  “Haa… Haa…”

  He planted his spear.

  “Not yet…” he muttered. “No one below me faces her.”

  Ivaline felt something tighten in her chest.

  ‘Chronicle.’

  ‘I feel it too,’ Chronicle answered.

  ‘Why is he doing this?’

  ‘Because you are his measure. His pride. His summit. If lesser hands reach for you freely, your worth lowers in his eyes.’

  ‘…I did not ask him.’

  ‘He chose it.’

  ‘…Inefficient.’

  ‘And yet you feel it.’

  Silence.

  Ivaline tugged Seraphine’s sleeve.

  Their eyes met.

  Seraphine understood immediately.

  “…Don’t overdo it.”

  “Un. I love you.”

  “…I love you too.”

  Aldric, Bram, and Nyssa stepped aside as well.

  Rivel dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.

  Ivaline entered the circle.

  “Rivel. Change.”

  “Huh?”

  The man blinked.

  Confused.

  “They want to test me. They won’t stop unless I show them.”

  “…At least I can lessen your burden.”

  “You’ve done enough.”

  He hesitated.

  She raised her hand.

  His eyes squeezed shut.

  Brace.

  Pat.

  Pat.

  Gentle.

  Warm.

  “You’re doing great.”

  Pat.

  “I’m proud of you. Now let me fight. Okay?”

  He froze.

  Then slowly stood and retreated.

  The crowd shifted.

  Now it was different.

  The joking had ended.

  Predators moved.

  Not the noisy ones.

  Not the standard Iron ranks.

  The quiet ones.

  The ones who had watched.

  Measured.

  Calculated.

  Ivaline stood alone.

  “I’m Ivaline. Silver Ward.”

  Her voice was calm.

  Clear.

  Unshaken.

  “I will not flee. I will not hide.”

  A small smile curved her lips.

  “I’m right here.”

  The bonfire crackled louder.

  “If you want to taste me…”

  Her eyes sharpened.

  “…come and get me.”

  The air changed.

  The real ones stepped forward now.

  Those who had remained silent.

  Those who had waited for proof.

  The trial had truly begun.

  Meanwhile, Behind the Line

  “LET ME GO! SHE PATTED HIM! SHE PATTED HIM! THAT’S MY EXCLUSIVE RIGHT!”

  Bram and Nyssa had Seraphine in a full restraint.

  “Calm down, Sep!”

  “He stole my authority!”

  Rivel, currently hiding behind Aldric and Garrick, trembled.

  “What happened to Emerald Gale…?”

  “You let her husband pat your head.”

  “…She’s jealous. That’s it.”

  “%@^*#^!”

  Seraphine’s language devolved into incomprehensible rage.

  Rivel made a vow.

  Next time—

  He would dodge.

  Definitely dodge.

  …

  Though…

  Her hand did feel nice.

  Maybe just once more—

  “GAHHHHH!”

  He reconsidered immediately.

  Nope. Never.

  If letting her pat him in exchange for facing that?

  Not worth it.

  Life was precious.

  Very precious.

  Chronicle recorded everything.

  Filed it away.

  For now—

  Silver Ward stood alone under the firelight.

  And the predators were circling.