Chapter 150 – The Trial Begins
By the time Ivaline and Seraphine reached the western camp, the sun had already dipped low.
Bonfires burned in wide circles.
Steel clinked.
Laughter rolled.
Names whispered like titles of war.
This was where the barony’s strongest gathered.
And the moment Ivaline stepped through the torchlight—
Eyes turned.
Many.
Too many.
“…A child?”
“Hmp. Seeking glory before death.”
“Brainless youngster.”
“Why is she walking with Four Bastion?”
“Lost stray?”
The murmurs were not quiet.
They were deliberate.
Testing.
Measuring.
Ivaline did not slow.
She walked calmly toward the largest bonfire at the center—where the most renowned adventurers sat.
Seraphine felt it.
That pressure.
Not killing intent.
But scrutiny sharp enough to cut.
A man stepped forward and blocked Ivaline’s path.
“This is not a playground,” he said. “Go home, young one.”
His voice was firm.
But Seraphine caught the softness in his gaze.
He reminded her of herself five years ago.
When she tried to drive Ivaline away from danger.
Aldric stepped forward to smooth things over—
But before he could speak—
“Oi.”
A crude voice rang out.
“Who are you to stand in my way?”
The man turned sharply.
Then froze.
Crimson armor.
Runic twin-headed spear.
The metal gleamed red under firelight.
[Iron Flash] Rivel.
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Even the air seemed to shift.
Rumors clung to him like smoke.
Those who dueled him left scarred.
Some fatally.
That was why his armor was crimson, they said.
So blood wouldn’t show.
…Baseless rumor.
But fear doesn’t require truth.
“Move,” Rivel said flatly. “I’ve a word with that shrimp.”
The man moved instantly.
Without pride.
Without hesitation.
The camp quieted.
“Hiya, Silver Ward! We meet again!”
Every conversation slowed.
Every gaze sharpened.
Iron Flash had called someone out.
And not just anyone.
Silver Ward.
Recognition rippled.
“Wait… that’s her?”
“The one who defeated him?”
“And Steel Tusk after?”
“That tiny thing?”
Exaggerated.
But legends never shrink.
Rivel stopped three steps before Ivaline.
The bonfire crackled.
Sparks rose.
The camp held its breath.
Then—
“…I have a straight back,” Ivaline replied calmly. “So I cannot be a shrimp, right?”
The entire camp malfunctioned.
“That’s your concern!?”
Rivel stiffened.
Then barked a laugh.
“Damn, you’re as tough nut to crack as ever!”
“I have no nuts,” Ivaline said seriously. “But Bram might have some.”
“…Huh?”
Bram immediately bent down and produced a handful of assorted nuts from his pouch.
The silence shattered.
Laughter erupted.
“HAHAHAHA!”
“Look at Iron Flash’s face!”
Even seasoned veterans wiped tears.
Rivel’s jaw tightened.
His spear struck the ground.
CLANG.
The laughter died instantly.
The sound carried weight.
The ground trembled faintly.
Now.
Now it would begin.
Onlookers straightened.
Hands hovered near hilts.
‘He’ll demand a rematch.’
‘He won’t let that slide.’
‘Guard! Where are the guards?’
‘I’ll intervene if he goes too far.’
Rivel inhaled deeply.
Stepped forward.
Bent ninety degrees at the waist.
And shouted—
“THANK YOU FOR YOUR GUIDANCE! I’VE GROWN STRONGER BECAUSE OF YOU! THANK YOU!”
The camp froze.
“…Don’t shout.”
PA!
A clean slap.
Rivel recoiled.
“Bweh!?”
No anger.
No retaliation.
Just stunned gratitude.
“Th-Thank you… very much?”
Several adventurers blinked repeatedly.
Trying to reboot.
Rivel straightened, grinning like an excited child.
Bright.
Open.
Completely unguarded.
“Now that greetings are done—”
‘That was greeting!?’
“Let’s duel!”
“No.”
The word landed heavier than the spear.
Silence.
“…Eh?”
“No,” Ivaline repeated.
Rivel’s shoulders sagged.
The world slowed.
Crash.
He collapsed face-first into the dirt.
‘HE JUST COLLAPSED!?’
The collective internal scream of dozens of veterans echoed through the camp.
Ivaline crouched.
Gently patted his head.
“Not now. Later. After we survive and return. That’s fine.”
Rivel shot upright.
“DEAL!”
“I said don’t shout.”
PA!
Crash.
Down again.
This time he remained flat on the ground.
Grinning.
Perfectly content.
Several onlookers looked physically ill.
“I don’t understand.”
“Is this intimidation?”
“Is this advanced psychological warfare?”
“Are we hallucinating?”
Even Iron Flash’s aura of dread now felt… misplaced.
Ivaline quietly stepped behind Seraphine.
Whispered.
“Seraphine… I feel like Rivel has become both better and worse since last time.”
“…I agree.”
Chronicle could not read minds.
But he did not need to.
The collective mental state of the western camp had been shattered.
Iron Flash.
The terror of the spear.
Reduced to a grateful disciple getting slapped twice.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone muttered:
“…So this is Silver Ward.”
Not in mockery.
Not in fear.
But in confusion.
Which, somehow—
Felt more dangerous.
The laughter thinned.
Slowly.
Gradually.
Like embers losing flame.
Rivel was still flat on the ground, grinning like an idiot.
Ivaline stood quietly beside Seraphine.
And that was when it shifted.
Eyes.
Many eyes.
Locked onto her.
Not amused now.
Measuring.
Calculating.
Gauging the depth beneath the surface.
Some leaned back, smiling in a hunter’s arc — as though prey had just revealed itself careless.
Some subtly adjusted their footing, shifting to angles with better sightlines.
Some rested hands upon hilts.
Not drawing.
Just ready.
A few disappeared entirely.
Blending into the crowd.
Melting into shadow.
Intent clear.
If Iron Flash kneels—
Then let us see what breaks her.
Ivaline’s [Perception] flared.
Not outwardly.
Not visibly.
But the world sharpened.
Breath patterns.
Weight shifts.
Mana fluctuations.
Intent.
Chronicle saw it as well.
Threads of hostility.
Threads of curiosity.
Threads of challenge.
The camp had finished laughing.
Now it was evaluating.
The night air cooled.
The bonfire cracked.
Somewhere in the dark, someone adjusted their grip.
Someone else crouched.
One figure moved too quietly.
Trial.
Not duel.
Not greeting.
Trial.
Silver Ward did not move.
Did not speak.
Did not react.
She simply stood there.
And waited.
The night was still young.
And the trial for Silver Ward—
Had only just begun.
