“Our stronghold in the East has been destroyed.”
In the dimly lit room, the leader stated calmly.
“Aaargh! That wretched woman! How on earth did she find out about our stronghold?! Kill her, kill her, kill her, kill her...” The bulky dark silhouette was somewhat manic.
A seductive woman was lazily filing her nails. “Gathering us here just to tell us this boring news? Really?”
“And besides... since when is a stray dog fleeing from the East worthy of sitting at the same table as me?”
“What did you say, you bitch?! I'll kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you!”
“Enough!”
Under the dim glow of the oil lamp, the leader's gloomy face was outlined.
“For this meeting, I have another matter to address—” The leader paused.
“The High God has handed down instructions.”
The noisy round table fell silent instantly. Faces with various expressions turned toward him with cold, scrutinizing gazes.
A portrait was slammed hard onto the table.
The blonde youth in the drawing, dressed in luxurious robes, wore a brilliant, oblivious smile.
The crowd began to buzz with whispers.
“Oh? Quite a handsome little guy. Just my type. He looks a bit familiar, isn't he—?”
“Lynn von Reinhardt. The sole heir of the Reinhardt family.”
“Kill him, kill him, kill him...”
“...”
Sweeping his gaze across everyone's differing reactions, the leader spoke slowly.
“Alastor, this matter is in your hands.”
“How is your reserve of avatars?”
The dark mist wearing a top hat opened its eyes. “Not many, but enough.”
“Very well.”
“The target will be participating in this hunting competition. The organization will mobilize and expose all our moles in the North just to secure an opportunity for you to slip in.”
The abrupt command seemed to spark quite a bit of discussion.
“Hey, are you serious?! Discarding fifty years of sleepers and plans just for this kid...?”
Ignoring the murmurs below, the leader's cold tone remained unchanged.
“Alastor, find him and win him over. If that fails, then—”
“Kill him.”
...
...
“According to the instructions, every participant will be randomly teleported to one of the prepared camps in the mountain range.”
After double-checking the rules on the scroll, Lynn looked up.
“I must have opened this the wrong way.”
“Yare, yare, I must still be half-asleep~”
He closed his eyes, laughed, and smacked his forehead, letting his racing heart settle down—like hell he did!
Lynn snapped his eyes open.
“Where the fuck did they send me??”
The camp that was supposed to be there was completely nonexistent.
All that met his eyes was an endless, desolate snowfield.
He paced slowly, leaving shallow footprints behind him.
The vast, white earth merged with the sky, leaving the entire world seemingly filled with nothing but this ethereal white.
A biting, freezing wind carrying a heavy scent of blood swept in from the distance, bringing with it a continuous echo like the howling of a wolf pack.
“So where is my giant camp?”
...
“Cold, it's so cold...”
Across the boundless snow, Lynn was slowly trudging along.
He shivered as he conjured a small ball of fire with his mana, and some color finally returned to his pale face.
“This temperature has got to be at least minus thirty degrees.”
Even Lynn, who was on the verge of becoming a Tier 3 Warrior, found it hard to bear.
“Hey, Lilian—”
His voice echoed continuously across the empty snowfield.
“I almost forgot, that girl isn't even by my side.”
Without that clingy pink puffball suddenly around, he felt... rather out of his element.
“And I don't see any camp. Did that old bastard Landon embezzle the budget for this?”
But the only good news was—
“The magic scroll is still active, and the victory points panel can be opened... At least the competition is running normally.”
He tapped the wristband-like magical artifact on his arm.
【Participant: Lynn von Reinhardt】
【Vital Signs: Normal】
【Current Victory Points: 0】
“Wait...”
“...Is it getting foggy?”
A white fog rose from out of nowhere, silently enveloping the surroundings.
Lynn's eyes suddenly sharpened.
He took two steps back and drew the silver sword from his waist.
“Looks like some guests have arrived early.”
Within the drifting fog, countless pairs of pupils lit up in unison, resembling burning, eerie green ghost fires.
...
At the same time, inside the Gunier manor's inner hall.
Several prominent figures, rarely seen by outsiders, were currently glaring and bickering with one another.
They were intently watching the screens displaying the various participants' feeds.
If Lynn were present, he would definitely remark that this felt exactly right.
This was basically an otherworldly parent-teacher conference for showing off. How could they not show everyone the brilliant performances of their own little Demon Pills?
In addition, the family heads, each with their own hidden agendas, had already begun secretly trying to recruit the talented commoner participants who lacked backing.
“Looks like it has begun,” Landon Gunier laughed heartily.
“The first trial of this competition.”
“Lord Landon, isn't this first stage a bit too difficult?” A plump noblewoman worriedly pinched her fingers in a delicate gesture. “My Zihan usually...”
“Rest assured, Lady John. You must have faith in your child. Besides, they have the protection of the scroll, don't they?”
“That is true, but...”
The surrounding nobles also whispered among themselves.
“Unleashing five Tier 2 icefield wolves right in the first stage... isn't that a bit much?”
“We've never had this level of difficulty in previous years...”
“It seems a portion of them have already been eliminated and teleported back.”
Count Gunier, who appeared calm and collected on the outside, was actually crying on the inside.
Did they think he wanted this?
Three days before the competition, his old friend Grand Duke Reinhardt had specifically contacted him, telling him to crank up the difficulty to knock his useless son down a peg.
How could a miserable worker like him dare to disobey his superior's orders? God knew how much effort he had put into repeatedly revising the competition plans over those three days!
“Count Gunier, the screen you're looking at—” Someone leaned in and gasped. “Oh! Isn't that Her Eminence the Saintess?!”
The blonde girl, dressed in a luxurious dress, stood quietly amidst the wind and snow.
She said nothing, her beautiful eyes slightly narrowed.
Around her, the ferocious wolves had already been turned into ice sculptures. They still maintained their leaping postures, their eyes wide open as if unable to believe they had been finished off in a single exchange.
“This freezing environment is truly a match made in heaven for a mage specializing in ice magic.”
“The Saintess is only eighteen, right? My, the younger generation is truly formidable...”
“What about the other participants?”
“Well, though there are some with decent skills, most of them are being tormented miserably...”
Count Gunier slid his finger, passing through the interfaces of one participant after another.
Where is my dear nephew Lynn?
He couldn't have been eliminated already by this ultimate extra-difficulty competition, right?
“...?”
His pupils shrank. The rapidly scrolling screen froze in front of him, then quickly projected above everyone.
The nobles in the inner hall all looked up at the same time, gazing at the screen that occupied most of the space—
Participant No. 17: Lynn von Reinhardt
Before him was a crudely built campfire. The carcasses of several icefield wolves were roasting over the fire, sizzling and smelling delicious.
“Tsk! Good thing this young master is brilliant and brought cumin along.”
Amidst the falling snow, he gorged himself, eating with sheer delight.
The entire hall fell into a dead silence.
“Is he... here on vacation?”
Rate on N.U.
