Chapter 14: The Trial of Fire

I first dismissed the soldiers.

“Return to your positions.”

They hesitated, sensing the heavy tension in the air, but when I repeated the order, they obeyed and retreated.

Once the soldiers were gone, the Wax Maid drew a dagger from her bosom.

“Ah, no!”

The thief tied to the chair struggled violently.

Without even blinking, the Wax Maid plunged the dagger into his side, ending his life in silence.

There wasn’t even a sound—no squelch, no gasp. Just stillness.

Even as a knight, I couldn’t help but admire the precision. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. Perhaps she had honed that motion over years—no, decades—maybe even centuries.

As I looked at her with tense eyes, she was the first to speak.

“Young Master Anplus. If you have questions, you may ask them.”

I spoke as soon as her words fell.

“Is Ribelia also unable to use magic properly?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

The Wax Maid answered calmly.

I closed my eyes tightly.

Our family must have been cursed in our generation.

How could both children—the only heirs—be defective in magic?

“So, that’s why the Lord tried to kill her? To gain an excuse to negotiate with the Imperial Family, claiming she died by their hands?”

“He didn’t try to kill her.”

“What?”

Relief came first, followed by boiling anger.

If it wasn’t to kill her, then it was a test.

It was clear that Ribelia had been tested—to see if she could survive, negotiate, and display dignity and intellect even without magic.

No matter how promising she was, such a trial for a sixteen-year-old girl was cruel beyond measure.

I forced my voice to remain calm.

“Why did you break the carriage wheel then? And all those other little things—the pranks, the discomfort, the constant chatter?”

“We needed to observe how she reacted under tension and pressure.”

“That was your mission?”

“Yes. Observation, reporting, and assigning proper trials—that is my task.”

Her answers came swiftly.

“If she failed, would the Lord truly have killed Ribelia?”

Before I could even brace for the answer, the Wax Maid shook her head.

“He’s still deciding.”

“Deciding?”

“You know this, don’t you? The purer the blood, the harder it is to bear descendants.”

“I see,” I muttered.

Though the Head of the Intezeruto House was the youngest among the Seven Electors, he was already nearing three hundred years old.

Yet among his bloodline, only Ribelia and I possessed blood pure enough to be known to the world.

“He is still young. There’s time. But purebloods capable of producing heirs are precious. Both of you can still fulfill your… duties, can you not?”

The Wax Maid smiled faintly.

“He is deciding whether to keep you both alive as blood donors and breeding stock, or to end it cleanly.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a relief or a tragedy. So, did Ribelia pass her test?”

“She’s pending. Judging by her results, she’ll likely face a re-examination.”

I sighed and drew my sword.

To put her through this again… it was madness.

Her mind might shatter completely.

The rippled steel glinted coldly in the darkness.

But I didn’t point the blade yet. There was one more thing to ask.

“And me?”

The Wax Maid smirked.

“You are quick-witted, my lord.”

“I was tested too, wasn’t I? ‘Protect her from everything.’ You’re answering too freely—there must be a reason.”

“It is a task for two. One who holds the right, and one who defends it. The one who holds it has just finished their trial.”

Hearing that, I almost understood this absurd ordeal.

The ambushes, the thieves, the sparse escort—it was all part of my test.

I wasn’t pleased, but I wasn’t as furious as before.

If I were the Lord, perhaps I’d have done the same—to test me.

As I brooded, the Wax Maid’s eyes gleamed.

“Then now, we shall test the one who guards the right.”

Fwoosh!

Mana surged blue from her hand.

With a whoosh, the small campfire flared upward, twisting into two towering pillars of flame that painted the forest orange.

They reached higher than ten meters.

“Young Master Anplus—or rather, Sir Anplus. Prove your worth.”

Standing between the twin flames, the Wax Maid lowered two daggers at her sides.

When I crouched, ready to charge, she raised a hand.

Puh-puh-puh-puh-BANG!

The two fire pillars spat dozens of fireballs.

I stared at them, jaw slack.

All I had was one sword.

Still, I clenched it tighter. My teeth rattled, but my resolve did not.

“I’ll show you, in style.”

I dashed forward.

A fireball exploded beside me.

I zigzagged through the inferno, dodging the spreading flames.

“You move well,” the Wax Maid murmured. “Then, what about this?”

A fireball flew toward me—one I couldn’t possibly dodge.

Through the orange glow, I saw a flicker of blue—the mana core within the flame.

I twisted my sword to the left, muscles coiling from shoulder to wrist.

When I reached my limit, I struck.

CLANG!

Like shattering glass, the blue core split in two.

The scattered embers rained over me.

I raised my gauntlet to block the burning sparks.

They didn’t explode—they shimmered softly and died.

Brushing off the ashes, I advanced through the darkened forest.

The Wax Maid smiled faintly.

“Incredible. You cut a fireball. No knight I’ve ever faced has achieved that.”

Her gesture unleashed another storm of falling flames.

“But once may be luck. Show your skill.”

I leapt forward silently.

This is insane.

To slice the mana cores, I’d need full speed—but that meant one swing at a time. Impossible under this barrage.

“Time is not on your side,” she said coolly.

She must have already signaled the mage officers.

If I couldn’t cut them—then I’d have to break them.

To do that, I couldn’t swing fast. I had to swing slowly, evenly.

The next fireball drew a graceful arc toward me.

I swung.

The sword met the blue core, twisting my wrist at impact to lengthen the contact and scatter the mana.

CLANG!

The shattered core melted into the night air.

“One.”

I whispered. One down.

Dozens—hundreds—remained. But each was just another “one.”

I swung again and again.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

I cut through the falling fireballs striking my head, my chest, my cloak.

“How about this?” The Wax Maid smiled.

Six fireballs dropped around me at once.

Fwoosh! The world flared as the flames rushed inward to consume me.

“No thanks.”

I kicked off the ground, charging forward like a bull.

I had learned how to accelerate without losing balance—honed it chasing Sormanzer.

The heat burned my cheeks as I burst through the blaze.

The Wax Maid raised her left hand.

“Then, how about this?”

The falling fireballs suddenly halved.

Confused, I hesitated.

Then dread and realization struck together.

The left brazier’s flames twisted together, condensing into a massive inferno.

“And now,” she said sweetly, “let’s unleash it.”

Almost there!

I dove behind a massive tree.

BOOM!

Flames erupted like a colossal flamethrower.

Smaller trees disintegrated instantly. The air roared like a storm.

“Haah… haah!”

The air was gone—burned away. My lungs screamed.

I clenched my fists and held my breath until the inferno ceased.

When I gasped again, all that filled my lungs was smoke.

Coughing violently, I fell to my knees.

Even then, I rolled away from the incoming fireballs.

After a minute, clear air finally returned.

“I thought you’d be ashes,” the Wax Maid said with surprise.

The side of the tree where I’d hidden was gone—reduced to charcoal.

As the trunk split, the great tree collapsed.

“How are you even standing?”

“I still have all my limbs, don’t I?”

“No flesh could’ve endured that heat.”

Only then did I feel the agony my body had been hiding.

Every nerve burned.

Under my skin, my blue blood glowed, knitting my charred flesh back together.

My gauntlet and breastplate, once armor, had become ovens cooking my hands and arms.

“Ah. Now it hurts.”

“I expected as much. Even purebloods can’t endure that unscathed.”

Behind her, one brazier had gone out. But one still blazed tall—ten meters of searing heat.

If she used that again, I wouldn’t survive.

Fireballs I could cut. But that—no. That was a wall of fire.

You can’t cut through flame with steel.

“Then, let us finish the trial,” she said softly.

The last pillar began to sink.

I stomped the ground and launched forward, pushing away the thought that I couldn’t cut it.

The flame twisted like a serpent, swallowing the oxygen around it.

I tried to reach her before it completed—but it was too late.

The massive fireball bloomed in her hands, roaring for release.

That was experience—a power that transcended blood.

“Burn.”

As she released it, I synchronized my heartbeat—four counts—and raised my blade.

One more step than before.

The burning trees vanished from sight. Only her face and the blazing sun of night remained.

At the second beat, the blue light shimmered in her hand.

I struck with all my strength.

SLAASH!

A dull, off-tempo sound split the air.

The slow, even swing twisted the path of the flame.

My sword sliced the massive fireball in half.

WHOOOSH!

The inferno split, surging left and right—scorching trees, devouring the forest.

For a moment, the wall of fire itself became a barrier between us.

When the flames finally subsided, I charged through.

“How bold,” the Wax Maid said, leaping with her twin daggers.

Her left hand flicked.

Thud.

Pain shot through my left arm.

A flying blade?

She swung again. I barely raised my arm in time.

The dagger pierced between the metal plates of my gauntlet.

While I faltered, she drew both blades again.

Her movements were sharp, precise, almost artistic.

If she’d fought like this from the start, I might’ve lost.

But her breath—ragged. The relentless magic had worn her down.

I raised my left arm to guard and charged like a bull.

Swoosh!

My sword pierced her center, straight through the chest.

Blue blood spilled, glowing against the dark.

“Congratulations, Sir Anplus,” she whispered with a pale smile.

“You have passed the trial.”

***

About a month later.

Far in the distance, the walls of the Intezeron Castle came into view.

“Lady Ribelia, we have returned.”

“Yes. We have.”

“What will you do with the Wax Maid?”

“She’ll serve as a bargaining chip when I meet Father.”

Ribelia still looked lifeless.

Yet in her eyes, I saw a faint bluish flame that hadn’t been there before.

“What about you, Brother?”

“I’ll make my report as well.”

In this world, magic bent the laws of physics—but still obeyed them.

There was more room for swordsmanship than most believed.

To defeat magic with the sword, one must sense the exact moment it manifests—and cut it.

Let’s systematize it—timing, rhythm, the divided-breath method.

“I plan to create a new form of swordsmanship.”

“Swordsmanship?”

“Yes. One that can stand against magic.”

It was still in its infancy, but perhaps one day, it would surpass magic itself.

Ribelia nodded.

“That sounds good.”

Ahead, the gates of Intezeron Castle opened, and the bells rang.