Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Qualification of a Warrior

The moment I gripped the sword, I felt the blood in my body surge faster.

‘What is this feeling?’

Every cell in my body went wild.

It was as if my very flesh—everything that made up my being—was reacting to the sword in my hand, like a lover reunited after a long separation.

I stared intently at the blade.

The sword, like other weapons, carried a sharp, deadly aura.

If there was any difference, it was that unlike the rough and unrefined weapons around it, the one in my hand looked somewhat elegant—more refined.

Of course, that was natural.

This kind of sword was the weapon of noble knights.

“All warriors have chosen their companions.”

At that moment, Zeke spoke.

“Today is a day of celebration. Let us hold a festival for the lifelong companions who will protect our young warriors.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the warriors erupted in thunderous cheers.

The young warriors followed the adults, shouting in excitement.

They were just as happy—because they, too, could now become like the family they admired.

Amidst the laughter and chatter of the joyful feast,

I sat silently, staring at the sword beside me with a heavy heart.

‘Why did you become my companion?’

To be honest, I didn’t want to choose the sword—anything but that.

Unlike where Chun Gwang had lived, swords here were weapons used by the educated—

by imperial knights or holy paladins of the Holy Kingdom.

Among the warriors of Elphrel, who pursued only practical combat, not a single one wielded a sword.

As I frowned at my own mixed feelings—

“Congratulations, Leon.”

Elsa approached, smiling, holding two cups of liquor in her hands.

“Here, take one. It’s a drink to celebrate.”

I looked at the sloshing liquid, nearly spilling over, and said,

“I’m still a kid, you know?”

“What does that matter? You’re a warrior now.”

Come to think of it, in Elphrel, anyone over five years old was allowed to drink.

Once you chose your weapon, you were a warrior, and others had to show respect—that was the reason.

I accepted the drink from Elsa.

We clinked our cups together and each took a sip.

“Ahhh! This is what I live for!”

Elsa drained her cup in one go, laughing heartily.

Unlike her, I grimaced the instant the taste hit my tongue and set my cup aside.

“Don’t like it? Why are you frowning so much?”

“It’s bad. I don’t think I get along with alcohol.”

Elsa burst out laughing at that. Her body swayed slightly—she was clearly drunk.

“I don’t think that’s the only reason, though?”

Despite her flushed face, her question was sharp.

“You really hate that you chose a longsword?”

I answered without hesitation.

“I wanted to choose an axe. But my body wouldn’t move.”

“That’s what the Warrior’s Blood is. Your body instinctively knows what weapon it’s meant to wield.”

“Even so, I still don’t like the longsword.”

“Because you think the warriors of Elphrel will hate it?”

My concern was reasonable.

The warriors of Elphrel, by nature, disliked both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom.

They despised the Empire for calling Elphrel a savage nation, and the Holy Kingdom for its hypocritical two-facedness.

And yet, I had chosen a weapon commonly used in those very countries.

It was only natural that I felt strange about it.

Elsa seemed to understand my concern. She nodded—and then smiled as if to ease my mind.

“Nobody cares, so you shouldn’t either.”

“What do you mean, nobody cares?”

“What we hate is the arrogance of the Empire and the hypocrisy of the Holy Kingdom—not the sword itself.”

Elsa said, her face flushed red, surrounded by a small mountain of empty cups.

“What we hate are the people, not the weapons. Here—Ron! Come here a sec!”

She called out to her friend sitting across the hall.

Startled by the sudden call, Ron came over, frowning.

“What do you want, drunkard?”

“Do you hate my little brother?”

“Are you insane? You expect me to say that in front of his overly proud sister?”

“Then do you say it somewhere else?”

Ron blinked, confused.

“You really took it that way?”

“Maybe not me, but my brother might.”

Ron turned his gaze to me.

When his eyes met mine, he hesitated, stammering as if caught off guard.

“O-of course not! Why would I? What’s this even about?”

“My brother’s worried the warriors of Elphrel will hate him for choosing a longsword—the weapon of knights.”

Ron looked at me, surprised.

When I gave a small nod, he sighed and shook his head.

“That’s not it. The one who wields the weapon is what matters, Leon. Nobody’s going to hate you for choosing a longsword. If warriors really hated it, they wouldn’t have even placed one out during the Weapon Choosing Ceremony.”

Every word he said made perfect sense.

At last, my face brightened.

Like the other warriors, that single sentence swept away my unease.

Seeing my childlike expression, Elsa and Ron chuckled.

Thanks to Ron, I was finally able to enjoy the festival.

The gloom that had been hanging over me vanished, and even the alcohol started going down surprisingly well—so much so that others eventually had to stop me from drinking more.

And the next morning—

I woke up at home, clutching my throbbing head.

Startled by the familiar voice, I turned my head.

Zeke sat beside me, radiating his usual solemn aura.

“The sun is already high. Rise, Leon. From today onward, you take your first step as a warrior.”

Leon’s dream was to become the greatest warrior of Elphrel.

There was not a single day he could afford to be idle.

Realizing that fact, Leon immediately jumped to his feet.

In Elphrel, all warriors chose the weapon they would use for the rest of their lives in the year they turned five.

However, that did not mean all of them would truly become warriors of Elphrel.

“As you already know, every warrior must take the Novice Warrior Examination at the age of ten.”

The moment I stepped into the front yard, Zeke began to speak.

“During that time, any warrior who has chosen their weapon must not rest even a single day. They must drive themselves relentlessly—without exception. That applies to you as well, even though you are my son.”

Seeing the seriousness on my face, Zeke paused for a moment, then continued.

“Your dream is to become the King of Elphrel like me. To reach that goal, you must train constantly.”

“Today, I’ll teach you how to deal with this straw bundle.”

Zeke pointed at a massive straw bundle—almost as large as his own body.

“This straw was crafted with the wisdom of our ancestors. Its toughness surpasses that of steel. From today onward, your task is simple: cut through this straw.”

Even after hearing that he must cut through something tougher than steel, I didn’t hesitate to answer.

Zeke gazed at me for a moment before turning and walking up the mountain behind our house.

As always, he went to hunt for the day’s food himself.

Watching his back fade into the distance, I murmured,

“So this is the training I’ll have to do for the next five years……”

In Elphrel, after the young warriors chose their weapons, they were given only one single lesson—

one chance to learn how to grow stronger.

After that, they were on their own.

Warriors were, by nature, fiercely independent.

Those who failed to grow on their own were simply weeded out.

I slowly picked up the longsword I had chosen yesterday.

The sunlight reflected off the blade and shone upon the straw bundle before me.

From my fingertips came that familiar chill unique to a sword—

a sensation I had once felt in Chun Gwang’s memories.

Somehow, it brought me a strange satisfaction.

Now that I had chosen the longsword, I planned to master the Martial God’s techniques I had witnessed in my previous life.

But first, I decided to test my current strength.

I took a few steps back from the straw and readied my stance.

My body was still small and unrefined, so my posture looked clumsy—but my spirit was fierce enough to be called warrior-like.

Slowly raising my sword, I brought it down with all my strength.

As expected from something born of the ancestors’ wisdom, the straw didn’t even get a scratch from the sharp blade.

Its hardness was on par with pure steel.

Instead, it was my wrist that hurt.

I rubbed my tingling wrist and let out a crooked grin.

‘Father really told me to cut this?’

Absurd. How could a five-year-old child possibly cut through such a thing?

Even grown warriors would struggle with it—

but despite that, I didn’t despair. Instead, I felt my determination ignite even stronger.

Zeke always said that nothing in the world was impossible.

If he gave me this kind of training, it meant he believed I could do it.

I couldn’t give up so easily—not when my father believed in me.

Even with Chun Gwang’s memories, my soul was still that of a five-year-old boy.

True to my childish spirit, I let my enthusiasm take over and swung the sword again.

“Here already, Zeke?”

At the mountain’s peak.

Zeke, who had arrived earlier, handed his friend a leather flask filled with the liquor Heath had prepared.

Phil accepted it, savoring the sweet aroma that flowed out as he took a swig.

“Much appreciated. But first—does your son have any talent?” Fınd the newest release on n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

“None. Hard to believe he’s my child.”

“That’s something Heath wouldn’t want to hear.”

Phil chuckled loudly, then added,

“So that’s why you asked me for that favor yesterday, huh?”

“Don’t play dumb. You were the one who asked me to make that ridiculous steel straw bundle yesterday, weren’t you? And to make it huge on top of that. You’ve no idea how much trouble my son and I went through.”

The so-called “straw of ancestral wisdom” was, in truth, something Zeke had asked his friend to craft the previous day.

“I wondered why you wanted something like that… turns out you were trying to show your son the harshness of reality.”

Zeke gave a faint, bitter smile.

He hadn’t wanted to do this.

But Leon simply had no talent—not enough to pass the novice exam, let alone become the greatest warrior of Elphrel.

Leon possessed not even a trace of a warrior’s aptitude.

“If he has no talent, it’s better he gives up early.”

“Well, you’d know that better than anyone.”

Zeke had seen countless warriors throughout his life—those so gifted he wished to take them under his wing, and those passionate yet doomed by their lack of talent.

Leon belonged firmly to the latter group—perhaps the most extreme example Zeke had ever seen.

“Elphrel is a place where those who aren’t warriors receive no respect. You have to at least pass the novice exam to be treated as a person.”

“And your son can’t even manage that?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the reality. That’s why I intend to make him give up early—to find another path. That’s why I called you.”

“To raise the son of the greatest warrior not as a warrior but as a craftsman? Now that’s an interesting thought. But let me ask you one thing.”

“What if your son actually cuts that straw?”

Zeke paused, pondering for a while.

Leon cutting through that straw was unthinkable—it was so tough even skilled warriors struggled with it.

But if, somehow, he managed to cut it.

Or even just leave a scratch on it—

“Then I’ll support him to the end. Whether he becomes the greatest warrior or not. If he can even leave a mark on it, that means my eyes have been wrong all along.”

“Haha! Then let’s hope your eyes are blind, my friend.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Zeke looked down the mountain.

Below, near a small hut, a little boy was swinging a small sword with all his might.

Watching him, Zeke murmured quietly,

“That would be the best outcome for my son.”