The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 241: Chapter 237 — Watchers

Several minutes ago.

"So it begins."

High General Rathen leaned forward in his seat with a faint smile. He seemed to be in rather good spirits. First, it was the first time all four houses had made it to the settlement. Most simply ended up wandering endlessly through the desert until they collapsed.

More importantly, however, the moment they had all been waiting for for hours was finally about to begin.

Beside him, the house commanders of each region sat in silence. Every eye, including his own, was glued to the screens displaying the live footage of the cadets undergoing their tests. Across every screen, the sun had finally begun to sink beneath the horizon.

The air grew tense at his words. Every single one of them knew what came next, what made this test so dreaded throughout the academy.

After several moments of silence, Major Rhydan Sarakhel let out a chuckle.

"Ah yes, the academy’s long-standing tradition of traumatizing cadets. How could anyone not look forward to it?" The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

High General Rathen frowned.

"It’s a necessary tradition. Some things cannot simply be taught. They have to be ingrained if they’re to become capable soldiers. This is one of them."

If the pressure test was meant to discover who broke and who maintained themselves under pressure, revealing talent, then the survival test was meant to instill alertness and solidarity in the cadets. After such a shock, never again would any of them let down their guard, especially in enemy territory.

Major Rhydan smiled.

"If you say so, High General."

High General Rathen merely grunted, offering nothing further. After a moment, Rhydan spoke again.

"I am curious though, High General. Given this year’s... talents. Who do you suppose will come out on top?"

The High General narrowed his gaze.

This year had produced some of the strongest recruits seen in centuries. All four houses possessed at least one exceptionally gifted cadet capable of turning any tide.

’Arcturus would be my pick.’

After all, not only was he potentially stronger than the other cadets, he was also one of his own. He could not imagine anyone surpassing a scion of the Metal Calamity. Still, given his position, he could not be seen playing favorites.

"The purpose of this test is to train the cadets, not to create needless competition."

"Exemplary answer." Rhydan said with a grin. "But if I had to put my money on someone, I’d say the Northern House. The Sarakhel haven’t produced a genius like Malach in quite some time. It’s hard to picture him losing to a bunch of mediocre talents."

Multiple scoffs echoed across the room.

Eyes turned toward the sources, where two women sat side by side, backs straight, each radiating regality and beauty on a world-ending level.

Ingrid Calderalth.

Sera Fe Eryndor.

Rhydan’s smile widened as he looked at the two women.

"Ah, I almost forgot. Both of you have younger brothers sitting at the top of the rankings, right? You must be feeling pretty proud."

Though neither said anything, both straightened ever so slightly in their seats.

"Although..." A smug grin spread across his face. "You do realize one of them has to be better than the other, right? One’s bound to be the weaker brother."

Major Sera scoffed.

"It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think? The rankings speak for themselves."

After all, Arcturus Aur Eryndor currently topped the rankings.

Ingrid frowned.

"The only reason he’s rank one is because some nincompoop couldn’t open a gate on time."

Sera shot her a sidelong glance.

"Mine topped every house exercise."

"Mine dominated every single one."

Sera fully turned to face her.

"Mine’s more muscular."

"Mine’s taller." Ingrid smiled. "More handsome."

Sera narrowed her eyes.

"He is not more handsome."

"Yes." Ingrid met her gaze. "He is."

Their gazes seemed to collide midair, turning the air heavy. It was a miracle no spark was bursting.

Rhydan cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Whoa, ladies. This is bringing back memories. Remember when you two were practically trying to kill each other?"

Both turned toward him at the same time, their glares making him instinctively shrink back.

"Haha... easy. We’re all on the same side, remember? Right, Dargan?"

He turned toward the bald, crude-looking man seated silently nearby. The man didn’t even bother looking at them.

"Childish."

Rhydan’s mouth twitched, yet to his disappointment, both women merely let out derisive scoffs before turning away from each other.

Ingrid couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief.

’How foolish.’

Someone stronger and more talented than Zephyrion? The memories of her monster of a brother were still fresh in her mind. She simply couldn’t imagine it.

’They’ll learn soon enough.’

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she imagined their expressions once they witnessed Zephyrion’s prowess. Then she frowned. A moment later, she clicked her tongue.

’Tch. Why do I even care?’

Major Dargan’s thick voice suddenly broke the silence.

"The Shrikes are emerging."

Ingrid immediately lifted her gaze to the screen, excitement in her eyes.

Several minutes passed as each side watched their respective cadets handle the situation. Expressions shifted from excitement, to caution, to slight disappointment.

All the screens had one thing in common: the Shrikes had taken every group by surprise, and they were all scrambling to escape.

Several even abandoned their own cadets, fleeing the settlement, while others slaughtered the Shrikes without regard for those around them.

"Hm, did I overestimate them, then?" High General Rathen muttered.

The words caused the house commanders’ gazes to darken, yet neither could refute him.

In every survival test, while some cadets usually made it back to base, the true measure had always been solidarity. You don’t leave one of your own behind, and anyone who did usually faced severe punishment.

In all, only a handful of cadets, compared to the usual hundreds, typically made it back, with some years seeing only a single survivor.

In the Northern House, the cadets gathered around Malach like a wall, protecting him as they fled while leaving the others behind. In the Western House, the cadets were disorganized, each fighting individual battles while trying to survive. In the Eastern House, the cadets scrambled to escape while Arcturus carved through the Shrike ranks.

A moment later, High General Rathen sighed.

None of them worked together.

They had left clues for them, yet none of them even tried to think their way out of the situation.

They either ran... or fought. A disappointement.

He was about to turn to the Southern screen when it suddenly flared orange, piercing the otherwise dark room.

High General Rathen straightened in his seat, his eyes widening.

"The bonfire..."

The other house commanders’ expressions shifted as well. Only Ingrid wore the faintest smile.