Chapter 19

Ian Pador wore that insincere smile.

“You’ve grown bold. I like that.”

“Of course.”

“Then may fortune favor you.”

Disgusting bastard.

He still pretended to care for me, right up until the end.

Why hadn’t I realized before—that behind that smile lurked such venomous intent?

Looking back now, my first life had been nothing but a life utterly trampled by him.

The man who destroyed my house, who killed my brothers and father—he was the very man I had followed, grinning like a fool.

What an idiot I was…

Perhaps, in truth, his betrayal had struck me deeper than even my family’s downfall itself.

For he had been a father to me.

Unlike my real father, who was always cold and knew nothing but the sword, Ian Pador had always been at my side.

When I first held a sword—

― “You are truly the makings of a knight, Deyan!”

It had been you, not my father or brothers, who rejoiced first.

When I struggled to see the jesters that had come to the estate—

― “Do you see them now, Deyan?”

It was you who lifted me onto your shoulders.

And when I first collapsed, bedridden and weak—

― “It will be alright…”

It was you who looked the most sorrowful.

How could you… How could you do such a thing?

When I barely escaped thanks to my brother’s sacrifice…

Years of wandering later, when I finally came to my senses, my house had already been branded a traitor’s nest, and I had become nothing more than the cursed wraith of a ruined clan.

The injustice burned.

Who had done this…? Who had committed such evil?

It wasn’t enough for Ian Pador to destroy the house—he dragged its name through the filth.

And yet, he himself became the so-called hero—the knight who had crushed treason and fought for justice, founding a new house in his name.

Not for Pador. Only for his own ambition.

I had wondered endlessly.

I sought Ian Pador out, demanded to know. Why? Why did you destroy the family with your own hands?

Tell me it was unavoidable. Tell me it was a mistake. Tell me the truth.

But he answered only with silence.

Was it because he saw me as beneath his notice?

When he saw that the ruined wretch before him still clung desperately to him despite it all—how amusing must that have been?

I was nothing but a toy, breaking exactly as he had designed.

Now, as I looked upon his face again, the rancor of those years rose inside me.

I thought time had dulled it.

But I had to fight down, again and again, the killing urge that swelled unbidden.

How long had I awaited this day?

The day when I could make him writhe in venom, suffering eternally until death.

Of course, I must not falter here. I must not lose myself now and ruin everything.

Ian Pador.

I will unravel every one of your schemes.

And then—by my hand—you will die in agony, cursed to writhe even in death.

Perhaps, in the past, I seemed like nothing more than a tail-wagging dog in your eyes.

But no longer.

Now, before you stands a serpent more venomous than you, fangs hidden until the time comes.

Until that perfect face of yours is twisted in ruin—I will continue to act the fool, your dim-witted nephew.

“Looks like everyone is ready.”

Ian finished his final handshake with Andrew and turned away.

“Even now, if anyone wishes to abandon the challenge, it is not too late.”

He spoke gently, as if offering sincere advice. Everyone swallowed hard.

“This is counsel from one who has walked the road before you. There will always be other chances—do not hesitate to quit here and now.”

Are you searching for a voice that inspires trust?

Then look no further than Ian.

That sly snake—outwardly, he seemed kind, an exemplar to all.

How many years must a viper live to perfect such a mask?

No… not merely a viper.

He must be a dragon-serpent, an Imugi at the very least, to carry such deception so flawlessly.

It was a speech from the very man I sought vengeance against—yet even I could not deny the force of his words.

Ian Pador clasped his hands together, his eyes slowly sweeping across the participants.

He deliberately drew out the silence, giving us time to weigh our choices.

But who here would turn back now, after coming this far?

Satisfied that none had taken a step back, Ian gave a faint nod.

“This year, it seems many promising talents have gathered. Then, Sir Janitz, please explain the children.”

Janitz stepped forward. He raised his hand, pointing toward the valley visible behind the platform.

“Do you know how the Valley of Trials earned its fame? If anyone knows, raise your hand.”

Several hands shot up.

“Because it brings glory!”

“Because one can receive the Trial’s Gift, which strengthens mana!”

“Because it is a legitimate contest that allows one to become a knight without taking the Knight Temple’s test!”

“Isn’t it because it gives us the chance to become knights of Pador?”

Trying to score points with Janitz, are they?

They’re eager, at least.

Various answers poured out, and Janitz listened with a patient smile.

“Correct. And further—this is also the place where Lord Schnell Pador himself once slew a dangerous beast and claimed the Gift of the Trial.”

To me, it was an old tale I’d heard so many times that it had grown scabs in my ears. But to the other children, it must have been thrilling—their heads leaned forward almost involuntarily.

Understandable…

For it was the tale of Schnell, the founding ancestor of Pador House.

His story was legend, myth itself among the people.

In his lifetime, he had been called a hero, and even now, he was revered as one of the top five greatest knights in history.

Janitz raised his forefinger skyward.

“Today, the Valley of Trials stands as the very place imbued with the spirit of the great knight Schnell. Why? The answer is simple. Look at Pador’s lands now—rich, prosperous. But long ago, this was barren ground where no one could live. Even after our ancestor slew the beast, the blight did not vanish. People wished to abandon this land.

But our ancestor said: Never give up.

And so he founded the house here, devoting his life to purifying this land. The result… is the land you see before you. A miracle of courage. And thus, the Valley of Trials embodies the creed of our ancestor—never give up, and courage will bring the answer. That is its meaning.”

Indeed.

As Janitz said, the Valley of Trials was the spirit of Schnell made manifest, the philosophy of Pador carved into stone.

Do not yield. Be courageous. And the path will appear.

That was Schnell Pador’s will, and the Valley of Trials bore witness to his words.

For this reason… Pador never gave up until the end in anything they undertook.

In a sense, they resembled the Tang Clan.

The Tang Clan’s stronghold, Tangjia Valley, had also been a land seeped with natural poison.

The difference was, unlike the Pador ancestor who came from outside to slay the beast, the Tang Clan’s forefathers were natives who had lived there all along.

They too never gave up.

But they did not seek to purify the venomous land.

Instead, they refined it—turned it into their weapon, their strength.

Pador and the Tang Clan.

Two houses that began in such similar places… yet reached such entirely different conclusions. Fascinating, isn’t it?

My brief recollection ended as Janitz’s voice rang out again.

“The Valley of Trials is a tournament to honor that spirit. And now—it is your turn, here, to raise that noble spirit once more.”

Just standing here, at the very valley that had once been the birthplace of so many great knights, was enough to ignite excitement in the participants.

Of course. The excitement wasn’t just for that.

The Valley of Trials was the place where one could prove oneself different from the rest.

A place to prove they were truly special.

Especially, the winner of the Valley of Trials would gain countless privileges.

Above all, the greatest prize was the conferral of knighthood.

To pass without ever taking the Knight Temple’s exam… who wouldn’t crave that?

It was the same everywhere.

What child would willingly pass up the chance to earn glory from such a young age?

The Valley of Trials was the perfect stage.

The victors of this contest were always the youngest knights of their time, shaking the continent with their sudden rise.

Everyone dreams of being the protagonist.

Of course… this time, they would be protagonists of tragedy.

But for now, before that tragedy unfolded, the only thing filling this place was the excitement of the participants.

Janitz, watching their eager faces, spoke.

“The Valley of Trials is a sacred test of House Pador that may replace the official Knight Examination. I trust none of you will dare sully its spirit with arrogance or conceit.”

When he mentioned Pador, his voice deepened into solemn gravity.

His gaze fixed on Einstein, who until now had carried himself with arrogance.

The boy… was shaken.

Feigning composure, but when Janitz’s eyes met his, he lowered his gaze.

Having chastised him, Janitz then raised three fingers.

“The Valley of Trials consists of three gates. And among them, whoever first passes the final gate shall be granted the Gift of the Trial.”

The moment he uttered those words, greed gleamed across countless faces.

Look at them—their eyes practically spinning.

The word “spiritual fruit” alone was enough to make every warrior’s eyes glitter. After all, what martial artist could resist?

To a warrior, a spiritual fruit was the greatest of treasures.

Truthfully, the Valley’s fame came not only from Schnell Pador’s legend… but from this very fact.

Perhaps the heavens themselves had been moved by Shunel’s will?

For in this purified valley, strangely, spiritual fruits began to grow. A blessing, a miracle from the sky itself.

And that miracle had become the driving force that elevated House Pador to where it stood today.

What Janitz said was roundabout, but the meaning was simple:

― We ate the fruit, and it built our house into greatness.

And now, those very fruits would be offered here. Who wouldn’t drool at the thought?

Of course, Pador’s rise had also owed to its discipline, its swordsmanship… but no one could deny that in the beginning, the fruit had played the greatest role.

“Then, let the Valley of Trials begin. If anyone wishes to surrender, strike that bell. At every gate, a gray bell will be provided, and you may choose for yourself.”

In a corner stood the bell, dull gray.

Ha… just seeing it stirred memories. In my past life, I had been one of those who rang it desperately.

For now, not a single participant approached it—nor even dared glance too long.

But would they feel the same once the trial truly began?

I was already eager to see their faces when they realized what awaited them.

Trials they could not even begin to imagine.

As Janitz’s words ended, he and the other knights of Pador ascended the watchtowers.

The participants exchanged puzzled looks, murmuring as they stared upward.

“Is it starting?”

“What’s happening…?”

“This is exciting!”

And then Ian Pador, in a voice grand enough to mark the beginning of the contest, declared:

“Remember this—only courage shall be the key to move you forward.”

That was the signal.

And soon enough, despair would devour them.

Kuuuuuuuuuuung…!

A tremendous roar echoed.

The children looked around in bewilderment, confused—until Ralph suddenly screamed:

“Wh-What is that?!”

Up the dry slope of the valley—

A massive floodgate, towering like a wall of ice, began to creak open.

And with it… the waters pent up within came crashing out in an instant.

Rumbleeeeeee!

A torrent surged forth, rushing as if to swallow everything whole.

At first, the participants could not believe it. That the water was really coming for them.

But no—the flood came straight, unerringly, at them.

Only then did they remember.

They stood in the heart of the valley.

The only safe ground was the watchtowers, where the knights now stood.

There was no escape.

Unlike the panicking children, Janitz explained with calm, almost courteous tones:

“Our ancestor, Lord Schnell, once fought his way through a flooding valley. And so, you too must face the waters. This is the beginning of the first gate.”

The first trial—an embrace by nature itself.

As the flood bore down on us, the children’s heads lowered, dread settling in.

I knew that feeling.

They were realizing the truth.

Why the champions of the Valley of Trials had always shaken the continent with their names.

Because to survive such a trial—one even seasoned knights struggled to endure—meant you were strong.

And soon, these children would also learn another lesson.

That they were not protagonists… but supporting cast.

Thus the Valley of Trials was sometimes known by another name—

The Valley of Realization.

The place where one first awakened to the truth: that they were nothing more than ordinary.

At last, as the flood drew nearer, despair finally etched itself onto every participant’s face.

“We’re… we’re not Schnell…”

“This… this is impossible.”

Not one child was an exception. Even the ever-drowsy Andrew had his eyes wide open.

“They expect us to pass this?”

See? I told you they’d be shocked.

The flood came roaring, magnificent as a dragon’s roar.

It was a grand sight, indeed.

---The End Of The Chapter---

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