Episode 39

The blessing ceremony was scheduled in the auditorium we had briefly visited the day before. Located a short distance from the main house, the building was ideal for events, featuring a large stage and countless seats. Its design resembled a grand theater, with the stage visible from the first floor as well as the second, third, and fourth floors.

I heard that there are many buildings like this in the imperial capital.

The atmosphere felt entirely different from the day before, as the overall lighting was dimmer. A knight guided us, saying, “All hero disciples, follow me.”

The term “hero disciples” referred to young heroes. This title wasn’t granted simply for receiving blessings or reaching adulthood; it required recognition within a great family.

Following the knight’s instructions, I moved to the back of the stage. The waiting area was spacious, furnished with tables, chairs, and simple snacks.

Some people have already formed groups.

The hero disciples sat with their close friends, which wasn’t surprising. They had likely stayed at the Badnikers’ main house for at least two weeks.

The largest groups were those surrounding the prince and Hector.

These fellows were flanked by a pack of dogs. Not real animals, of course, but opportunists fawning over great nobles, desperate to form connections. If they had ears and tails, they would be wagging them.

Surprisingly, Seren was sitting alone.

The knight continued, “First, all hero disciples will take the stage for the opening ceremony. Afterward, the head of the Badniker family will deliver a declaration, followed by a congratulatory speech from His Highness and remarks from other family heads.”

As a national event, it was laden with formalities. The tedious rituals were unavoidable, and I had to endure them all. I considered passing the time by practicing internal energy circulation, but the presence of potential assassins made it too risky.

Once all the hero disciples had gathered, we ascended the stage per the knight’s instructions.

Restrained applause echoed from the now-filled seats.

Are those seated the ones who hold power over the empire? I wondered.

Suddenly, a young man emerged from the opposite side of the stage. “I am Assad, the family head’s representative. First, I thank the distinguished guests gathered here today.”

His appearance marked the arrival of a significant figure. Assad, the recluse and guardian of the Badnikers, was known as the Sleeping Dragon. Despite his youthful appearance, he was a legendary Archmage who had safeguarded the Badniker family for centuries. Even the Council of Elders revered him.

Externally, Assad was recognized as the Iron-Blooded Lord’s right-hand man. Regardless, no one could dispute his authority as the family head’s representative.

—Hoh… That man is quite something…

The Martial God showed interest again. Whether facing martial artists or mages, his competitive spirit flared in the presence of strength.

After Assad’s brusque opening ceremony declaration, a red-haired imperial prince stepped forward to speak.

Following the tedious remarks from family heads, Assad announced, “I will now begin the blessing ceremony.”

The surroundings fell silent.

The hero disciples retreated backstage to wait. Unlike before, the chatter had nearly ceased. A mix of nervousness, excitement, anticipation, impatience, and even fear filled the air. It was a refreshing reaction.

Today is the turning point of my life!

Perhaps most here shared this thought.

“Randolph of the Tryon family, come to the stage.”

“Y-yes!”

A spirited boy stepped forward. As the first participant, all eyes in the waiting room were fixed on him.

Randolph stumbled slightly as he climbed the stage, gave a brief introduction, and bowed. “I am Randolph of Tryon.”

A smattering of applause rang out.

Randolph took a deep breath and faced the mirror on stage. It was known as Baal’s Mirror, after the leader of the seventy-two gods revered by the empire, and it was far from ordinary.

As Randolph stepped toward the mirror, ripples spread across its surface like water, seamlessly absorbing him.

A nobleman, perhaps witnessing this for the first time, gasped.

Baal’s Mirror was a divine artifact. Depending on its use, it allowed one to borrow the gods’ power or even communicate with them directly. In other words, it served as a temporary bridge to the gods. Naturally, its use was restricted to members of the Great Families.

Where was Randolph now? Which gods did he encounter? I couldn’t know.

Like him, I had entered the mirror before, yet I saw neither gods nor their shadows. Instead, I had wandered through darkness before emerging. I had heard that each person’s experience was unique.

Shortly after Randolph disappeared, a beam of light streamed from the mirror, forming a number above it—1.

Everyone understood its meaning. It was the number of blessings granted.

Moments later, Randolph reappeared and gasped.

He scratched the back of his head shyly and checked the number written on the mirror. His expression was subtle, but I guessed he was probably disappointed.

Of course, having only one blessing was unfortunate, but its type could make all the difference. After all, some heroes had risen to fame with just a single blessing.

The onlookers applauded and congratulated him.

The ceremony is moving quickly.

This was natural. If we dragged things out, the day would slip away.

I glanced around. At least fifty hero disciples were attending today’s blessing ceremony.

Meanwhile, the mirror continued displaying different numbers for each disciple—2, 1, 1, 3…

Most results hovered between one and two.

Polite applause greeted the ones, slightly warmer claps followed the twos, and murmurs of surprise accompanied the rare threes.

“Seren of the Goodspring family, come to the stage.”

The announcer’s voice echoed through the hall, calling my ex-fiancée’s name. Seren rose from her seat with grace, her movements deliberate and poised. As she made her way to the stage, her eyes briefly met mine.

Is this her first blessing ceremony?

It likely was, as I hadn’t seen her at the earlier ceremony this year.

Whispers rippled through the audience as Seren stepped onto the stage. Her presence was notable. After all, she was the only participant of the Goodspring family.

Seren stood confidently before the mirror and delivered a brief self-introduction, ignoring the curious gazes fixed on her. She then vanished into the mirror’s surface.

Almost instantly, a brilliant beam of light erupted from the mirror.

The crowd gasped in awe. The intensity, brightness, and sheer number of lights were extraordinary.

6!

“Wow…!” someone exclaimed.

Even the nobles, who usually maintained a facade of composure, broke into murmurs of disbelief. Six blessings were unprecedented; the previous record had been four.

Seren placed her hands on her hips, her pride evident. Yet, her youthful face betrayed a hint of awkwardness, as though she hadn’t quite mastered the art of masking her emotions.

After a moment, she returned backstage and smiled at me.

“Do your best, but you won’t beat my record.” Her tone was as brash as ever.

Seren had effortlessly captured the attention of everyone in the room, including Hector and the prince.

This was Hector’s second blessing ceremony. If I recalled correctly, he had received five blessings during his first.

He lost, I thought, stifling a chuckle

My gaze met Hector’s, and his lips tightened into a cold line. Before he could react, the knight announced, “Young Master Hector, you may proceed.”

Hector tore his eyes away from me and ascended the stage.

I watched from backstage, curious. Typically, the number of blessings received during a second ceremony was fewer than the first. Perhaps Hector would gain one or two more.

He stood on the stage with a relaxed smile, a stark contrast to the icy expression he had directed at me moments earlier. Clearly, he was more skilled at concealing his emotions than Seren. Those extra years of experience had served him well.

Don’t tell me he’s the rat. I briefly suspected Hector, but he was a maniacal admirer of the Iron-Blooded Lord, making it unlikely—though not impossible.

At that moment, applause reached my ears. Hector’s blessing ceremony had ended while I was distracted. He’d received three blessings, a solid result for his second ceremony.

“Luan of the Badniker family, come to the stage.”

I glanced at the knight who called my name. Though he was clearly a Badniker knight, he addressed someone as “Young Master Hector” and someone else as “Luan of the Badniker family.” There was no particular order for family members, yet I was called right after Hector, and something about it felt malicious.

I flashed a wide smile and rose from my seat.

As I walked toward the stage, all eyes were on me—curiosity, ridicule, contempt, disgust, and even a hint of pity. The hero disciples at least managed to show some restraint, but once I reached the stage, the mocking laughter grew louder.

Hector is Hector, but if there is a true mastermind, they are likely hiding among these nobles.

I stood before the mirror, and it began reflecting something entirely unlike me.

Darkness swirled, formless and consuming.

Without hesitation, I placed my hand on the mirror. A refreshing sensation spread from the point of contact, and the next moment, I was inside the mirror.

The space was oppressively dark, yet I could see myself clearly. It wasn’t pure darkness but more like being enclosed by dark walls.

It is like last time? Then will the number of blessings be zero this time as well?

I continued walking, questions swirling in my mind.

Soon, I noticed something. It is definitely longer than last time.

The darkness stretched on, even after several minutes of walking. I had heard that time flowed differently here, but for a moment, I wondered how much longer I’d be trapped in this place.

—The seventy-two Seats are watching you.

“Ah… is this it?” I muttered.

The voice emanating from the mirror—the so-called voice of the gods—left me disoriented and uneasy. In my past life, I had never heard such an inorganic, otherworldly sound.

—Most of the Seats are interested. The majority wish to bestow a blessing upon you.

Things were unfolding in a direction I hadn’t anticipated. The seventy-two gods, revered by the empire, were the ones who granted blessings to the descendants of the Great Families.

—The First Seat, Baal, is interested in you.

Baal? The leader of the seventy-two gods is interested in me?

Just as I was processing this, another development unfolded.

—The Guardian Seat appears.

What is the Guardian Seat?

—The First Under Heaven, Bai Luguang, is targeting the First Seat, Baal.

I gasped.

—Bai Luguang demands, “What kind of wretched mutt dares to look at my disciple?”

—Baal explodes in anger.

Even through my confusion, one thing became clear: I must not anger my master.

—Bai Luguang releases his killing intent. He recommends lowering your gaze unless you want your eyeballs plucked out and used to decorate your mouth.

—Baal’s eyes widened.

Good heavens.

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