Chapter: 33
A few days after Izuri returned from vacation, the day of the S-rank promotion exam was approaching.
Once a year, in a green zone akin to a tutorial training ground where one can resurrect even after dying, it’s one of the continent’s major events where you can witness the genuine clash of elite adventurers.
As this season rolls around, everyone—regardless of age, gender, or social status—comes together and pays attention to this. That’s how it should be.
“Something feels… really bleak…?”
Even before the preliminary round began, counting the number of participants was basically a rough estimate, and the onlookers and merchants targeting the event couldn’t even compete with the village market.
Of course, I expected the excitement to be less than when I participated. It felt like having aliens involved in the Olympics.
But this? This is a serious matter. Recently, we held an adventurer-related event. Could it be that the low birth rate is also plaguing us here?
“Everyone is crowding around the Knights, so there’s a shortage of talented adventurers.”
“…I see. Was there some kind of trigger?”
“Yeah. I heard that when Sister Izuri, who received the blessing of the warrior candidate, became the queen, the support rate for the Knights skyrocketed.”
“Oh, I get it…”
I was convinced upon hearing “warrior candidate.”
The perks of being an adventurer are freedom and romance, but even the massive romantic ideal of being a warrior candidate has now flowed into the Knights.
Moreover, the current Knights are enjoying their golden age with four Emperors. So, it’s no wonder people are flocking there.
“Adventurers, the preliminary round is about to begin. Please get ready.”
Along with Maria’s explanation, I was relieved to see that the leading non-commissioned officer was just as dull as a corporal.
I’m not overly concerned about the future prospects of being an adventurer, but this exam promises to draw public attention like never before in over a century.
“What event would you like to choose?”
“Number 8.”
—
An hour had passed since I was called. In an abandoned room, Sally had been listening to the incessant tick-tock of the clock.
‘If they were going to be this late, why did they call me so early…’
She internally chewed on grievances that she couldn’t convey to the person involved.
For someone like her who had worked in the service industry for quite some time, it was now second nature not to worry about accidentally voicing those thoughts. It was more like a part of life.
Squeak-
Finally, the silence was broken by the arrival of a man.
Sally looked back and her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
‘So that’s why they made the door so big…’
In her line of sight was a hulking man who looked like he could fit at least five people into his frame.
Even as she murmured nonsensical thoughts, the looming pressure made her momentarily lose her focus.
“Sorry I’m late.”
‘This person… he’s the pinnacle of modern adventurers.’
Sovereign, the master of the adventurers’ guild and branch manager of the entire system.
As Sally realized who had called her, she followed his gaze as he took a seat on the sofa across from her.
“Sally, was it? The senior receptionist from the Yeopeum-Aul branch.”
“Yes, yes… I’m Sally…”
“Relax. I just called you because I have something to discuss.”
Just being together with you feels like lifting a mountain off my chest. But those words got stuck in her throat.
What is this? The old man I serve is also a guild master. Yet, the sense of pressure and the aura are worlds apart.
Perhaps he too is hiding some sharp claws. Sally attempted to escape, her mind racing with distractions.
“Sally, you chose number 8 for the qualifiers.”
“Uh… yes…”
But one can’t cover the sky with their hand.
Sovereign’s stern statement pulled Sally’s attention back to the present.
“Do you know exactly what type number 8 entails?”
“Um… I understand it involves stabbing a dragon in the chest with a dagger.”
I know this well. Regardless of seniority, at least once a year, everyone discusses this topic.
This year, betting has run rampant, especially with the debate on whether this will be selected and whether it’s going to be a hot year or not.
This has been a notorious sport that has echoed through whispers for decades. It’s impossible not to know given the context.
“Seems you only grasp the surface level.”
Sovereign asserted: No, you actually don’t know the whole story.
But the reprimand was aimed for having acted without understanding.
“So do you know how strong the dragon is?”
“Most S-class adventurers are at a level where they can handle it.”
Sally had some valid points there. Look at the guy sitting right in front of her; he’s already caught a dragon!
This is a clear test to pick the cream of the crop among S-class adventurers.
However, you can’t exactly take the stance of, “We’re not here to bring you down.”
“Sally. Just because you’re an S-class adventurer doesn’t mean you must be able to catch dragons. Considering the decreasing number of adventurers nowadays, to be promoted to S-class, you should at least catch a glimpse of some potential.”
“Number 8… isn’t the only event that was adopted?”
If it’s too rough, can’t I try a different event? Sally held back those words and looked at Sovereign.
“What do you think adventurers are after?”
“Um… freedom and romance, right?”
“That’s what most people think, and even the adventurers themselves believe that. But the truth is, they value honor just as much as knights, if not more.”
For a moment, Sally thought, ‘Is that so?’ then quietly nodded at the thought of various people loudly bragging about their exploits at every opportunity.
“Dragons can become a life goal for adventurers. Just like you, Sally, based your S-class standards on them. And number 8 is one of those rare chances to take down such a dragon, more specifically a demon dragon, with just a plain old dagger.”
Even if it’s merely a chunk of magically conjured mana, a dragon is still a dragon.
That strength isn’t going anywhere, and it wouldn’t be lacking in the achievements of an adventurer’s life. After all, dragons are not something you just stumble into without crashing into a valley.
“But even if it’s a preliminary match, they don’t just hand over a one-shot elimination weapon for nothing. It’s notorious not without reason.”
There’s a saying that history is written in blood.
Sovereign clenched his eyes shut, recalling his past, the records from before the number 8 had gained its awful reputation.
“Nevertheless, countless people have tried and failed over the years. Of course, it’s not like nobody passed. However, this ended up prompting even more early dropouts.”
People thought, “If they can do it, why can’t I?” and were lured by the delusion that they could succeed with just one stab or by the sweet temptation of becoming a dragon slayer.
The demon born from these thought processes is number 8, Sovereign confidently declared.
“Just a few years ago, I would have thought you were mean and wouldn’t have called you out like this. But considering how each year one person drops out, number 8 is clearly a bad idea.”
“…”
“Then why didn’t you abolish it earlier? It’s all about symbolism. The 8th category serves as a tribute to the dragon slayer Louis Vuitton. It would be absurd to remove it just because it’s overly challenging.”
Life can be complicated and headache-inducing. Sally blinked, feeling utterly baffled.
Whatever. Sovereign, who droned on with a lengthy explanation, leaned forward.
He placed his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers, and stared at Sally as if he were dissecting her with his eyes. It seemed the previous explanation had only set the stage for the main topic that would follow.
“I heard you firmly insisted on number 8 despite being given a chance to switch or be dissuaded. Is there a specific reason for that?”
Reason, reason. Even just having been scrutinized moments ago, the corners of Sally’s mouth teased a smile.
If the participant in the preliminary round claims they intend to take it on themselves rather than knock others out, would anyone actually believe it?
“Perhaps this time, too, there will be others who would have fared better had they chosen differently.”
Sally’s smile quickly soured into a bittersweet one.
Identifying one’s own capabilities is certainly one of the key virtues of an S-class adventurer. Apparently, it’s been a challenge recently.
“Listen closely, Sally. If there are only dropouts in this preliminary event number 8…”
♩︎♪︎♬︎♪︎
“…Excuse me for a moment. It’s me. What’s happening?”
Despite the efforts to keep her accountable, Sally maintained her newfound composure.
At the moment Sovereign received an urgent call, she leaned forward with her hands clasped, mirroring his posture.
“There’s been… a pass for number 8…?”
The man who had been exerting pressure on her until now gazed at the red-haired woman in surprise.
She must have overheard the conversation too. Despite that, she simply smiled without a hint of shock.
“If event number 8 only has dropouts… then what comes next?”
Sally was a social person who never missed an opportunity.
Now that this situation has unfolded, she figured, why not go all in?
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