Chapter 4: The Sword and the Seal
The city of Ironvale was noisy and crowded. Forging hammers rang in the distance, merchants argued over prices, and the smell of coal mixed with cooked meat.
Vaelrik kept his hood low and walked with quiet steps. He didn't speak to anyone. His sword was strapped over his back, worn but clean.
He stopped outside a small tavern where the scent of roasted chicken drifted through the open window.
Inside, people drank, played cards, and argued about quests. Vaelrik sat alone at a corner table.
The barkeep looked over. "You buying something?"
"Chicken. Anything hot."
He placed two silver coins on the counter.
A few minutes later, a steaming plate was in front of him. He ate slowly, silently. Then stood and walked out.
---
The guild building wasn't far — a stone hall with faded banners and a cracked emblem above the entrance. Inside, adventurers lined up for requests and reports. Posters covered every wall.
Vaelrik approached the desk.
"I want to register."
The woman at the counter looked up. "Trial room's downstairs. You'll be tested. Pass or fail, that's it."
He nodded and took the wooden token she handed him.
---
The trial arena was cold and simple — rectangular with scarred stone walls. Torches flickered overhead.
A man with a missing eye waited at the center, arms crossed.
"Use aura only. No magic. Survive or destroy the target."
The steel doors opened.
A training golem walked out — metal arms, core crystal glowing blue at the chest, armed with a blunted spear.
The trial master raised his hand. "Start."
The golem charged forward.
Vaelrik shifted into a low stance. He let his aura flow through the sword — calm and tight.
The spear came at him fast. He tilted his body and let the blow pass just beside him, then slashed once across the golem's side.
Sparks flew.
The golem turned quickly and struck again. Vaelrik dodged. Its movements were stiff — efficient, but predictable.
Sword God Style — First Form: Tempest Breaker
A sharp, sweeping arc. His aura followed the blade in a wide burst — strong enough to knock the golem off balance.
He stepped in and struck again, this time into the core.
The golem shut down and collapsed.
The trial master gave a short nod. "Accepted. You're registered."
---
On his way out, someone called out.
"You moved well," the voice said.
Vaelrik turned.
A tall man in red-lined armor stood near the stairs, arms folded. His build was heavy, his boots were thick with dried mud.
"S-Rank?" the man asked.
"Yeah."
"Let's see it then."
The trial master glanced over. "Eryk, don't break the kid."
"I won't."
Vaelrik walked back into the arena.
They faced off.
Eryk's aura was solid — heavy, not aggressive, but steady. He moved fast, faster than the golem, and struck low.
Vaelrik blocked with his blade and jumped back. The second hit came before he landed — a straight punch reinforced with red aura.
Vaelrik let it come close, then moved at the last second.
Sword God Style — Sixth Form: Mirror Reversal
He twisted his shoulder and redirected the force, stepping aside and swinging low to catch Eryk's leg.
Eryk stumbled, then grinned.
"Good read."
The fight continued. Aura clashed, but Vaelrik focused on precision — watching for small breaks in motion.
Ten minutes passed before Eryk finally stepped back.
"That's enough," he said.
He offered a handshake.
Vaelrik took it without a word.
---
Later that night, Vaelrik sat in a small rented room above the tavern. He looked at the guild badge in his palm. Silver, stamped with the letter S.
He slid it into his cloak pocket and stood.
The next day, he returned to the guild.
He walked up to the board, scanned it, then pulled down a parchment.
TARGET: TROLL
REQUIREMENT: A+ Rank
REWARD: 20,000 Gold Coins
He folded the paper and turned to leave.
End of Chapter 4