We finally arrived.
The Cave of Honor.
This place was sacred to our clan.
It was where we took the coming-of-age trial.
Long ago, Father told me it used to be a dungeon passage connecting the Krona Duchy and the Empire. But now, our clan controlled it.
A very long time ago, too many evil people tried to use this passage.
So an unwritten agreement was made between the Empire, the Duchy of Krona, and the Avenir clan.
Only those our clan deemed worthy—and only the royal family of the Empire and the bloodline of Duke Krona—were allowed to pass.
Some people were stupid enough to ignore that rule.
All of them died.
Inside the cave were relatively weak monsters: goblins, cave spiders, orcs.
But Father said it was a mysterious dungeon—no matter how many monsters we killed, new ones always appeared.
So our clan guarded it.
And turned it into a sacred trial.
Five guards were camping in front of the cave.
When they saw us—
Their eyes widened.
"Y-Young Master Frans!? Young Master Rick!? Why are you here? And why are you wounded!?"
Two of them immediately ran to the camp and came back with bandages and herbs, quickly treating our wounds.
Frans spoke while they worked.
"We were attacked. The Empire is attacked us. I don't know what's happening in the village. We're escaping."
The guards' faces darkened.
"…Then let us escape together, Young Master."
One of them nodded.
"There are monsters from the entrance to the Honor Chamber. But we can reach it in about one hour if we hurry."
One hour.
That was absurdly fast.
Normally, someone taking the Trial of Honor would need four or five hours.
Even Frans, when he took the trial, had needed two hours.
The monsters were weak individually.
But their numbers were enormous.
The guards usually only killed the ones that came out of the dungeon.
Which meant—
Inside, there were many.
But the five guards who were with us were veterans of the clan.
That was why they were confident.
We hurriedly prepared supplies.
Food.
Torches.
Medicine.
And then—
We heard it.
Hoofsteps.
A lot of them.
We turned toward the forest.
Dust was rising into the sky.
One of the guards cursed.
"…Damn it. At least a hundred horses."
Frans clenched his teeth.
He muttered something so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
"…Damn it. I was so stupid."
He looked at the cave.
"They were aiming for this place from the very beginning."
--
Uncle Gradios, the leader of the guards, stepped forward.
He handed Frans two bags of supplies.
"Young Master Frans," he said calmly, "you go first. We will hold them here."
Frans froze.
"But Uncle Grad—"
Uncle Gradios cut him off.
"You see it too, right?"
His eyes were fixed on the forest.
"I can sense it. Three extremely dense mana signatures are coming with them."
My chest tightened.
That meant—
Monsters?
No.
That kind of pressure only came from monsters in human form.
Or worse.
"We will hold them here," Uncle Gradios continued. "The cave entrance is narrow. That gives us the advantage."
He looked at Frans firmly.
"You go with Young Master Rick. There are monsters inside. Someone must open the way."
Frans clenched his fists.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then…
"…Yes."
He turned and walked toward me.
He shoved one of the supply bags into my hands.
Then he handed me a small sword and a shield.
"Rick. You don't need to use the crossbow anymore."
I blinked.
"Use these."
As I put on the bag and strapped the shield to my arm, then fixed the sword's scabbard to my waist, Frans continued:
"Listen carefully."
"We will move fast. I will open the way."
"You block the flank."
"Only stab when you successfully block them."
He stared straight into my eyes.
"Do you understand, Rick?"
I swallowed.
Then nodded.
"Yes, brother."
At least now…
I was holding a shield.
Not a coward's bow.
Even if shield users were often underestimated—
They were still acceptable in our village.
Unlike archers.
"GO!"
Uncle Gradios shouted.
The sound of hundreds of hoofsteps was already shaking the ground.
We didn't look back.
We ran.
Toward the dungeon.
Toward the monsters.
Toward our only path to survive.
--
As we ran into the darkness of the cave, Frans suddenly spoke.
"Listen, Rick."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Uncle Gradios and the guards… they are the best warriors of our clan. They have the highest pride."
"They already chose their battlefield."
He didn't look at me.
"Dying on the battlefield is the highest honor for them. Especially when protecting something important."
"…So don't be sad, Rick."
"We should feel proud. And respect them."
I felt like…
He wasn't saying that only to me.
He was saying it to himself.
Then—
We saw them.
A horde.
Dozens of goblins crawling across the stone floor.
Cave spiders clinging to the walls and ceiling.
And in the center—
Several orcs.
Bigger. Taller. Smarter.
Leaders.
Frans stopped.
He slowly took his stance.
And I saw it.
His pupil changed.
Four concentric rings appeared in his eyes.
Blue.
White.
Yellow.
Red.
The Blessed Pupil of Avenir.
Then—
He vanished.
Not ran.
Not dashed.
He disappeared.
The first orc's head flew before it even realized Frans was there.
The second died with its chest split open.
The third had its spine cut in half as it tried to raise its weapon.
Three orcs.
Dead.
In a single breath.
"Let's go, Rick!"
We charged.
Frans moved like a storm in front of me, his sword drawing arcs of silver light.
Orcs fell.
Goblins were cut apart.
I stayed behind him, just like he ordered.
Blocking.
Pushing.
Stabbing only when I had a clear opening.
A goblin jumped from the wall—
I raised my shield.
CLANG!
Its dagger scraped across the metal.
I stabbed upward.
Warm blood spilled onto my hand.
Another tried to rush past me to reach Frans—
I slammed it with my shield and drove my sword into its throat.
We moved.
Step by step.
Meter by meter.
Time lost its meaning.
My arms started to shake.
My breathing became rough.
Sweat mixed with blood.
Once—
A goblin slipped behind me.
I felt something move.
I turned—
Too slow.
A blade scraped across my body.
I twisted my body and barely avoided a fatal hit.
I stabbed backward blindly.
GRAK—
It died behind me.
Frans never stopped.
Never slowed.
Every time an orc appeared, he cut it down before it could even command the others.
But the numbers—
They never seemed to end.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
My legs burned.
My arms felt like stone.
My shield felt heavier every time I lifted it.
At some point, I stopped counting.
We were just moving.
Blocking.
Killing.
Advancing.
Surviving.
Then—
I saw it.
Ahead.
A wide stone chamber.
An ancient door.
Engraved with the symbol of our clan.
The Chamber of Honor.
"…We're here," I whispered.
After one hour…
One hour of nonstop blood and steel…
We finally reached it.