“Looks like we are a little late.”
A faceless half-mask covered nearly half of the man’s face, and long black hair hung loose down his back. With every step he took, the pair of broadswords of different lengths at his waist clinked softly.
At his appearance, Kun slightly wrinkled the bridge of his nose.
...A senior instructor?
Just as he had expected, another senior instructor stood before them, and behind him was a group of trainees. Judging by their number, which was roughly the same as Kun’s group, they did not come from the Third Moat but from another moat.
Kun identified the newcomer’s status immediately for one simple reason.
Despite the differences in appearance and weapons, he wore the same kind of half-mask. It had the distinctive features that separated it from those worn by ordinary instructors. There was no mistaking it.
Another senior instructor, then.
Kun had suspected their existence, but this was the first time he had encountered one face to face. Out of habit, his gaze ran across the man’s figure. The instincts of the Calamity-Class Hound stirred within him—before making contact, he always evaluated the opponent’s strength first.
Expert level, roughly the same as our instructor. Unusually long limbs, and a pair of swords of different lengths.
This time Kun’s gaze did not merely skim the surface. It seemed to reach deeper, analyzing every detail. His eyes dissected the approaching warrior with cold precision.
A swordsman who relies not on classical schools, but on trickery, technique, and flexibility?
While Kun silently assessed the newcomer’s strength, the man approached the trainees of the Third Moat. His eyes behind the mask flashed with a bright blue light, and he spoke:
“Pleased to meet you. I am the senior instructor of the Fourth Moat.”
Or had Kun imagined it? For a brief moment, the man’s gaze seemed to linger meaningfully on him. Sensing that strange attention, Kun tilted his head slightly.
So he knows about me as well?
It was more of a rhetorical question—Kun was almost certain of it. Meanwhile, the new instructor’s voice continued:
“You may simply call me the senior instructor of the Fourth Moat.”
There was nothing particularly remarkable about his voice except for a hint of excessive authority. Yet behind those words lay pressure that did not fall short of the aura of the senior instructor of the Third Moat. Feeling it, several trainees involuntarily swallowed.
Apparently, someone found that reaction amusing.
“Hee-hee...”
“...?”
Snickers came from the ranks of the trainees who had arrived with the new instructor. The senior instructor of the Fourth Moat introduced them:
“...And these are your comrades of Lion’s Moat, the trainees of the Fourth sector under my charge. Greet one another.”
At the mention of the Fourth Moat, the trainees of the Third Moat immediately turned their heads. The two sides locked onto each other with fierce stares.
Curiosity, rivalry, excitement, and caution were all mixed in that clash of gazes. The looks were so heavy that it felt as though sparks might erupt between them at any moment.
“So these are the trainees of the Fourth Moat?”
“They look weaker than I expected.”
“What kind of idiots are in this Third Moat? They all look half-beaten already.”
“Hey, how about lowering that jaw of yours?”
“You should bury your eyes in the ground.”
And then...
“And what is this supposed to be? Some kind of walking corpse?”
“Has the Third Moat fallen so low that even a runt like that survives?”
Feeling the sideways glances directed at him, Kun let out a quiet sigh.
...Ah.
He had hoped life in Lion’s Moat might become at least a little calmer, but reality shattered that illusion instantly. Kun felt a wave of fatigue and shook his head irritably.
...Quiet.
It was not difficult to understand why the instructors had decided to bring together trainees from two moats right now.
As always, they never choose the easy path...
One reason could have been the sharp reduction in the number of trainees. At the beginning there had been more than a hundred in each moat, but now that only a few remained, there was no point in keeping the groups separated.
However...
That is clearly not the only reason.
Human beings grew accustomed to anything, and nearly two years had already passed since the trials of Lion’s Moat began. Even the harshest training and the faces of fellow sufferers eventually became familiar. The atmosphere had grown stagnant, and it needed to be shaken up.
So they decided to do it through a clash with new faces?
Impressive thoroughness... Kun was about to give a sarcastic smile when—
“Attention!” roared the senior instructor of the Third Moat, stamping his foot.
The ground beneath his boot split into a web of cracks, and the shout, reinforced with mana, instantly echoed across the area.
The forest trembled from that roar, and the deep imprint of his forged boot remained clearly stamped into the soil. Seeing that the eyes of trainees from both moats were fixed on them, the senior instructors spoke:
“As you all know, starting today you will enter voluntary seclusion for one year. From that perspective, today’s meeting is merely a small event meant to remind you that you must not relax even inside the training halls!”
The words sounded so clear that it felt as if they were being whispered directly into the ear. Everything was unfolding exactly as Kun had expected.
“One year. A full year. The doors of the halls will not open, and the soundproofing spells inside will not let a single scream escape outside. Therefore...!”
The senior instructor paused for a moment, sweeping the children with a dark gaze, and finished:
“...If anyone wishes to surrender before entering, speak now.”
The voice did not merely carry meaning—it inspired dread. Hearing it, several trainees swallowed again and glanced around furtively.
They were searching for fear in the eyes of others. Usually, the greatest danger of seclusion was considered madness or exhaustion caused by incorrect practice of breathing techniques. Add to that loneliness and darkness in a confined space, and the psyche of young adolescents could easily crack.
However...
Despite that, the trainees were not looking around because they themselves wanted to leave. They were trying to see who would prove to be the coward.
Well, an entirely predictable reaction.
Those standing here had already passed through two years of hell in Lion’s Moat. They had not merely survived—they had endured the first Lion Trial with honor and were now preparing for seclusion. These were not simply children, but selected “hounds on chains,” possessing not only strength but pride. If mere warnings could frighten them, they would have been weeded out long ago.
The senior instructor of the Third Moat gave a short chuckle.
“Hm. You certainly have spirit. Of course...”
Let us see how long it lasts.
The dark and lonely atmosphere of the seclusion halls would gnaw at their minds every minute. Moreover, the end of the term did not mean graduation from Lion’s Moat.
If you fail to achieve the required progress within that year...
Far more brutal trials would await them at the exit.
Then again, simply leaving that place with one’s sanity intact was already no easy task.
Perhaps someday they would regret not surrendering today. Finishing his brief introduction, the instructor raised his voice:
“Now then... Open the gates!”
The moment the order was given, the ordinary instructors scattered around the perimeter began activating the mechanisms along the outer walls of the building.
Click. Click.
Dust rose with a deafening rumble, and through the noise the instructors’ commands rang out:
“Step forward by list and enter the halls! First...!”
While the attention of the trainees was consumed by the thunder of iron doors, a quiet voice slipped into Kun’s ear.
[The thing you requested has already been delivered to your hall.]
A voice carried by Aura. A communication technique available to masters, allowing sound to be directed precisely at a target through mana. Despite its apparent simplicity, it required exquisite control. Kun flinched and turned his head. The senior instructor was looking straight at him, his lips barely moving beneath the mask.
The thing I requested?..
He was referring to the reward Kun had demanded from Vail, the head of administration, after his victory in the trial.
Poison.
The senior instructor finished in the same indifferent tone:
[So... go and train without unnecessary thoughts.]
At the entrance to the halls, Kun’s name was shouted.
“Ethan! Ethan, step forward!”
And then—
An unexpected visitor came to Kun only one month after the beginning of his seclusion.