The hall was silent—almost. From the hundreds of people who had originally stood there, only ninety-nine remained. The emptiness made the hall appear even larger than it truly was.
Among the shackled individuals, only two men had survived the trial. One knelt on the ground with a long smile on his face, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. The other remained expressionless, his body bleeding and bruised, yet he did not flinch.
Some people turned to look at the shackled duo, wondering how they had survived. Was it luck? Cowardice? Had they hidden away while others fought? Their judgmental gazes were sharp, but neither man seemed to care.
The happy one was too elated to be affected by their stares—wrapped in a shield of joy that protected him from words and thoughts.
The other remained expressionless, unmoved by their scrutiny. Why should he care about the opinions of those equal to him? They had all survived the same trial. They were all equals. If none of them had reached the absolute, then none could claim superiority.
The blindfolded woman began to call out names.
"Rho, your evaluation score is high. Please choose four books."
A burly man stepped forward, and murmurs followed him. People whispered praises about his strength as he approached the woman. He selected four books with "sword" in their titles. From the shelves, four fog-shrouded tomes flew towards him. The fog dispersed as he caught them and stepped back into the crowd.
"Maya, your evaluation score is high. Please choose four books."
A female mage stepped forward and quietly chose four books on mana and its study, then returned to her place without a word.
"Yuser, your evaluation score is high. Please choose four books."
The archer advanced and chose two books about bows and two about poison. Dissatisfied, his face twisted slightly in displeasure, though he said nothing.
The crowd watched them with awe—some eyes filled with respect, others with fear.
"As expected from the three. Their evaluation is high!"
They were praised, despite having likely killed dozens during the trial. Strength, it seemed, was enough to wash away blood. Admiration and resentment danced together—the world favored power but also feared it.
As more time passed, the woman began to call those with intermediate evaluations. They were allowed to choose three books. Among them, two individuals drew particular attention.
First was a girl named Arien—the same dagger-wielder Faust had fought before. People whispered in surprise that someone so young had scored so highly. It was impressive.
She selected books on dagger techniques and movement.
Then came the next name.
"Faust, your evaluation score is intermediate. Please choose three books."
The shackled boy stepped forward. Though bleeding and wounded, his face remained calm. He stood as an equal among those that deemed themselves superior.
People looked at him with scorn.
"What? A damned slave? How did he get that score?"
Other intermediate scorers scowled; some in anger, others in curiosity.
As Faust approached the woman, thousands of book titles flashed through his mind, each offering a vague impression of their contents. The sudden influx of information startled him, but he quickly composed himself. The longer he stood there, the more attention he would attract—and that was not something he wanted. With a steady breath, he focused and began to think carefully.
There are no books on runes..." he noticed. "Then I guess... I should get a book about mana. I definitely need to understand it better. An empty journal would be useful for drawing runes. But what about the third?
He hesitated.
I have the Devour rune, but I still haven't used it... I want to test it on a weapon I can actually wield. Even though I can't engrave it yet, I will be able to soon. Still, I might not get another chance like this. A sword manual could be useful.
He made his decision. Three fog-enclosed books flew towards him—one on mana, one a sword manual, and one an empty journal for runes.
Laughter broke out among some, while others raised an eyebrow.
"An empty journal? Of course a slave knows no better!"
As he returned to his position, he felt five gazes on him.
Rho, the sword-user, looked at him with disdain.
Maya, the mage, showed no expression.
Yuser, the archer, watched with enmity.
Arien, the dagger girl, smiled faintly. Her short dark hair and deep black eyes gave her soft but sharp features.
And finally, the nameless slave stared at him with bitter envy, his joy from earlier now masked by spite.
The strong looked at the weak as they would look at ants—either with disdain, indifference, or anger for being bothered. The weak looked at each other with empathy, that was until one rose above the rest. Then, that empathy turned into resentment. The slave was angry because Faust, equal to him in his mind, was now ascending.
The rest of the evaluations were low and yielded only a single book per person.
At last, the blindfolded woman spoke again.
"Congratulations on passing the first trial. You may now advance further into the castles. Prepare yourselves for the next trials, and I wish you good fortune."
She bowed. Fog-formed cocoons surrounded everyone, lifting them gently. The massive gate opened just enough for the cocoons to pass through, returning each person to where they had first been taken.
Faust returned to his settlement. The one-towered castle slowly rose back into the sky, merging with the gray spiral above and eventually disappearing from sight. The remaining eight castles still floated just beneath their respective spirals.
When the castle vanished, its spiral followed, dissipating and allowing a bit of color to return to the sky. It was no longer pitch blacks, still dark, but visibility had improved. Apparently, once a castle returned to its spiral, the surrounding environment began to recover. How long that took, though, was uncertain.
Faust stared at the sky for a moment, then headed back to the house where he had been staying. It was time to count his gains.
First, the three books—one on mana, one on swordsmanship, and one empty journal for drawing runes. He still had the black blood from the spike-creature, which he planned to use for the runes.
Then there was the spear, looted from the first man who had attacked him. He also had a water canteen and two pouches.
He opened them carefully. Inside were the clothes he had stored earlier—having a change of clothes would certainly help. Both pouches contained nearly identical items: a piece of paper with a signature, and a metal insignia of a shield with crossed swords. The one from the spearman's pouch was silver, marked with the Roman numeral I. The other was bronze, marked with II.
Faust didn't know what these meant, but he kept them—they could be useful later.
The papers were identical. He read one:
"The Alveria Adventurers Guild proclaims through this document that the adventurer in possession is granted permission to join the expedition and enter the newly-formed 'Land of Nowhere' dungeon."
At the bottom was a signature, different on each paper, presumably those of the original holders.
"Fine. So I'm in a dungeon. I just need to find out what a dungeon is... 'Land of Nowhere,' heh. At least now I know the name of this place."
"And it seems the Adventurers Guild is leading some sort of expedition here. There must be a great reward at the end... probably inside the nine-towered castle."
Faust thought about this, but it still felt so distant. He had only defeated the spear-wielding man due to a lucky opening thanks to his strategy and the man's arrogance. It hadn't been true strength.
He needed to grow stronger.
He didn't know when the next trial would begin, but if his strength stayed the same, he would die long before reaching his true goal.
This was merely a test.
His true wish lay far beyond a mere castle.