TSMRG 09

Chapter 9

The Sword Tomb Ceremony

The Sword Tomb Ceremony.

A traditional ritual of the Reinhardt family, held under the northern sky.

When the children of the family turned ten, they all gathered at Banapen to undergo the ritual.

To the north of Banapen lay the Sword Tomb, where, since the time of their ancestors, the swords of those who had earned great merits were enshrined.

The children entered that place for a day, to be chosen by a sword.

There were countless swords within, but they couldn’t simply grab one at random.

The moment they touched a sword, they would undergo a kind of trial.

Through this trial, the swords within the tomb would gauge the child’s current skill, potential, mental state, spirit, and even their conduct inside the tomb—before making a “choice.”

Would the child be chosen? Or not?

Of course, even if one succeeded in drawing a sword, it didn’t mean they were bound to it forever.

They were free to wield the sword, keep it stored away, or even discard it if they wished.

Nothing was forced.

But the ancestors had hoped, through this ceremony, that their own achievements would be remembered, and that the young talents of the family would find guidance for the path ahead.

That was the noble meaning, steeped in history and tradition.

But…

“Wow, it’s really dark.”

Inside the tomb, where they had been teleported in an instant, not a single ray of light could be seen.

Ruined, of course, felt perfectly at ease in such darkness, having lived in shadows for so long.

“What the—? I can’t see anything.”
“Torches? Aren’t there any torches?!”

The ten-year-old children were overwhelmed with fear at the sudden pitch-black surroundings.

And since there were no adults around to guide or reassure them, their fear deepened.

Well, they’ll figure it out somehow.

Ruined, his eyes already adjusted, slowly blended into the darkness, hiding himself.

True to the name “sword grave,” the Reinhardt family had hollowed out the entire mountain behind their estate.

The space was vast—big enough to house a castle.

Here and there stood altars and statues, each with swords embedded in them.

But at the entrance—

“Hey, don’t push. Someone’s here.”
“Ow, my foot! Who stepped on me?! Quit it, that hurts!”
“I-I want to leave. Let me out!”

The area was still filled with cries of panic and confusion.

Among them, only two stood out.

Those two, huh.

Seron showed no fear of the dark at all, quickly adapting and moving on his own.

The blonde girl, Meirin, looked scared at first, but soon clenched her teeth and began adjusting.

The other thirteen children? Still screaming, sitting on the ground, or swearing in panic.

They couldn’t shake off their fear.

Guess it’s time to start my revenge.

Ruined looked for the four boys he had decided on earlier. They, too, were stuck at the entrance.

At their head was one person—
Andrei, eldest son of Phillip, the fourth son of the current family head.

“Everyone, calm down! Panicking won’t help. First, focus on letting your eyes adjust to the dark.”

He tried to exert leadership, helping the others settle down.

“Breathe. Deep breaths.”

And it seemed to work—their fear began to subside.

“Huff, huff.”
“It’s just dark. Wait a bit and we’ll see more.”
“Right, no traps or monsters here. No need to panic.”

Andrei then suggested another idea.

“Let’s all hold hands. That should help.”
“Good idea. Grab the hand of the person next to you!”

Following his words, thirteen of the children linked hands.

And almost instantly, their fear lessened.

“Phew, I feel better now.”
“Yeah, I think I can start to see a little.”
“Just give it time. We’ve got plenty of it.”

The children even began praising Andrei.

“As expected of Andrei. Listening to him always helps.”
“Of course. He’s from the main bloodline.”
“If it weren’t for him, we’d have been in trouble. Thank you, Andrei!”

The three boys who normally followed him fanned the praise further, and the rest soon joined in.

“T-thank you, Andrei.”
“Thanks.”
“…I appreciate it.”

Andrei scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.

“No, anyone from the Reinhardt family would’ve done the same. You just panicked for a moment. It’s something you all could’ve managed.”

Watching his modest response, Ruined smirked.

Cute little brats.

But that didn’t mean he’d forgive them.

Letting those who insulted his people live was mercy enough.

So—

Tap, flick!

“Eek! W-what was that?”
“Huh? What?”
“S-someone touched my shoulder!”

The children panicked again.

“What?!”
“Who’s messing around?!”

Sensing the chaos returning, Andrei quickly shouted.

“Did anyone let go of hands?”
“No! I’m holding on!”
“Me too!”
“Same!”
“…”

An awkward silence fell. Then—

Smack!

“Argh!”

Thud!

“Ugh, who hit me?!”

“What? What happened?”
“Damn it, who smacked the back of my head?!”
“Me too! Who the hell—? You wanna die?!”

The two boys who’d been struck let go of hands in anger.

Andrei tried to calm them.

“Don’t let go! Just adjust to the dark and we’ll find the—ugh!”

A sudden blow cut him off.

“A-Andrei?!”
“Who attacked Andrei?!”

With even their leader attacked, the children’s anxiety spiked.

Then—

Crack!
“Gaaah!”

Thud! Thump!
“Ugh!”

Four more kids were struck, one of them collapsing unconscious.

“A-are these… ghosts?”
“G-ghosts? Kyaaaaah!”
“Damn it, run!”

The fragile calm shattered like sand, and chaos erupted again.

Children screamed, let go, and bolted in all directions.

“Wait, no! Don’t let go—ugh!”

Andrei tried to stop them, only to get hit again. His temper finally snapped.

“Damn it! Who the hell?!”

He swung blindly into the air.

But striking in pitch darkness was foolish.

Whack!

“Argh!”
“Was that you?”
“N-no, Andrei, it’s me! Sheldon!”
“What? Sheldon? Damn, sorry, I can’t see—ugh!”

Crack!

His apology was cut short by another hit.

“Arghhhhh!”

Andrei finally lost control, flailing wildly.

And Ruined, watching from the shadows, chuckled quietly.

That’s what you get for messing with my people.

Those four boys would spend the entire ceremony drowning in pain and terror.

And when it ended, the swords that chose them would surely be of the lowest grade.

“Phew.”

Meirin exhaled deeply, her eyes now adjusted, as she searched for the sword pulling at her aura.

Then—

“Kyaaaaah!”

A scream echoed behind her.

“What… was that?”

She cautiously turned toward the sound.

Still trapped by the primal fear of darkness, her nerves were taut.

Could something have happened?

But this was a Reinhardt tradition—accidents were highly unlikely.

Maybe it was just another child who, like her, couldn’t handle the dark.

But then—

“G-ghost! A ghost!”

Someone shouted, running in her direction.

“Ghost?”

There were only two things in the world Meirin truly feared.

The first was disappointing her father, who always gave her absolute trust.

The second… was ghosts.

Especially ghosts appearing in dark, lonely places like this.

“Urgh.”

She bit her lip hard and shook her head.

Pull yourself together, Meirin. Now’s not the time to be scared.

This was a ritual that determined the future of Reinhardt heirs.

Inside the tomb, one’s actions, state of mind, and potential combined to form a trial.

If she showed weakness or faltered here—

The trial will only get harder.

And that meant her chances of being chosen by a good sword would plummet.

So she steeled herself.

But overcoming a fear etched into instinct was no easy task.

…

She stood motionless, tense, guarding her surroundings.

After some time, the chaotic screams faded away.

Her heart still pounded furiously.

Calm down. Just move slowly.

Muttering to herself, she rotated her mana.

Warmth spread through her body, and her frantic heartbeat eased.

Good. This should be fine.

Just as she steadied herself and took a step forward—

“Huh?”

Her legs, weakened from fear, gave out, and she staggered.

Then—

Gulp!

The mana swirling in her body lost control and began to rampage.

No, this is bad.

If she fell and hit the ground, the unstable mana might explode.

It could mean not just injuries, but death.

No, if this keeps up—

Death flashed before her eyes.

Then—

Tap!

“…?”

Someone caught her arm, stopping her fall.

She turned her head.

“Careful. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

The one supporting her was the boy who had entered last before the ceremony began.

The child others gossiped about, saying he was the son of someone cast out.

The one who had locked eyes with her for so long.

Ruined Reinhardt.