“Next.”
Without giving them much time to marvel, Instructor Tina had already begun the rotation.
Sevira was next to go up. Since that killing training, Sevira had become much more enthusiastic about training.
She said that only by becoming strong enough could she avoid falling into a state of being at others' mercy.
Tyr didn't know whether this change in her was good or bad, but since the healing mages from the White Magic Tower hadn't raised any issues about it, it probably didn't matter.
However, although Sevira worked very hard and had decent talent, she was still far behind Tyr.
Exerting every ounce of her strength, she finally managed to pierce the Windrunning Lynx's neck with her sword.
“Brother Tyr.”
When Sevira walked over carrying her sword, her arms and legs were covered in claw marks from the Windrunning Lynx.
“Quick, drink the medicine.”
Tyr took a bottle of healing potion and handed it to Sevira, telling her to take it.
“Phew,” Sevira exhaled after drinking the healing potion. “Brother Tyr is still the amazing one. You took it down without the Windrunning Lynx even touching you.”
“Brother Tyr, you will definitely become a candidate.”
“If Sevira trains hard, you can become a candidate too.”
Tyr reached out and rubbed Sevira's head. This wasn't just to comfort her. Among the many reserves in the Sword Prison, aside from Tyr, the only ones who could compete with Sevira were Silas's trio.
“Hehehe, I'll work hard.”
Sevira sat down on the stone steps, enjoying Tyr patting her head. A satisfied expression appeared on her face, making her look like a little kitten.
After Sevira, Silas's trio also completed their training one after another.
Although they were all in quite a disheveled state, none of them were severely injured, and there wasn't a single wound on their vital areas.
The gap among the remaining reserves began to widen. However, after the weakest deadweights had left, these people's strength was still decent.
Although each of them suffered significant injuries from the Windrunning Lynx, they ultimately managed to tenaciously slay the beast.
However, they looked far more wretched, with a few even having their bone fragments exposed.
“Training is over. We will continue tomorrow.” Once all the reserves had slain their Windrunning Lynxes, Tina announced the end of today's training and declared tomorrow's schedule. “The combat training against the Windrunning Lynxes will last for half a month. I hope that during this time, all of you can achieve what Tyr did and avoid being harmed by the Windrunning Lynx at all.”
The upcoming training objective made many reserves on the drill grounds look miserable. They had just witnessed how formidable the Windrunning Lynx was.
To completely outpace the Windrunning Lynx in speed within half a month—honestly, they had no confidence at all.
“Let's leave as well.”
After Instructor Tina left, Tyr and Sevira also walked out of the drill grounds.
...
Seven years later.
In a tavern in a wild, remote town in the eastern part of the Grand Duchy of Callis.
“Six, six, six, six, six, six...”
“Hahaha, it's a three! Drink, drink quickly!”
“Open! A straight! Pay up, hand over the money!”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
“Ten throwing knives, all hit the target!”
This tavern was a resting spot for nearby mercenaries and adventurers, and the entire place was filled with a noisy din.
Adventurers and mercenaries gathered in small groups of twos and threes. Some played dice, some played cards, and others played throwing knives...
Many people set up betting pools. Adventurers and mercenaries, who constantly rubbed shoulders with death, loved these kinds of thrilling games.
Of course, once they lost enough to see red, bloodshed was inevitable after they left the tavern.
Bang!
The tavern door was pushed open, and a man wearing a brown cloak walked in.
He walked through the noisy hall, sat down at the bar, and took off his hat, revealing a weathered face full of life's hardships.
“Give me a glass of rye whiskey.”
“Coming right up.”
The old bartender behind the counter took out a wooden mug, scooped a cup from a nearby barrel, and turned to present it to the man.
“Your drink, guest.”
“Not bad.”
The man picked up the mug, drained it in one gulp, and let out a loud burp.
“Of course. Our tavern has been open here for decades, and we rely on these fine drinks.”
The old bartender's tone was full of pride. Although the liquor here couldn't compare to the famous wines of the nobility, it was still a variety that these adventurers and mercenaries usually couldn't even dream of touching.
Getting these drinks from those merchant associations was no easy task. However, to be able to run a tavern in such a chaotic place for decades, one's backing and connections could easily be imagined.
“The drink is indeed good.” Putting down his mug, the man's gaze turned dangerous as he looked at the old bartender. “Now, we should have a talk.”
Thud!
With a dull thud, the man drew a scimitar from his waist and stabbed it fiercely into the bar counter.
The sudden loud noise silenced the entire tavern, and the adventurers and mercenaries inside turned their gazes in unison.
When they saw the blade in the man's hand, strange expressions appeared on their faces.
Many of them frequented this tavern and naturally knew that the old bartender's background was not simple.
At the very least, the old bartender was a Third Circle Transcendent, which was not the kind of power a mere bartender should possess.
“Dear guest, I wonder how I have offended you.”
Looking at the cold, gleaming blade on the counter, the old bartender's expression did not change in the slightest. He continued wiping the mug in his hand as if nothing had happened.
The mercenaries and adventurers all perked up their ears.
“Galen, former leader of the Gale Mercenary Group, a Fourth Circle Transcendent.”
As the man spoke, a look of desire leaked from his eyes.
“I want the advancement knowledge for the Fourth Circle.”
His current strength had already reached the peak of the Third Circle, but having been born a commoner, he had no access to the advancement knowledge for the Fourth Circle.
After making inquiries from various sources, he had learned about the old bartender's past.
A former Fourth Circle Transcendent whose realm had fallen due to a severe injury.
“Guest, you must be joking. Do I look like a Fourth Circle Transcendent to you?”
Old Galen did not lose his composure just because the man had exposed his identity. He continued to wipe his mug in a calm and unhurried manner.
On the other hand, everyone else in the tavern showed astonished expressions. They had known that Old Galen was not as ordinary as he seemed on the surface.
But a Fourth Circle Transcendent and the leader of the Gale Mercenary Group—these two identities undoubtedly astounded them.
In this world where the Fifth Circle was generally the peak for commoners, the Fourth Circle was undoubtedly a great and powerful figure in the eyes of the adventurers and mercenaries.
Although there was only a one-circle difference between the Fourth Circle and the Third Circle, the Fourth Circle was a genuine Mid-level Transcendent. The gap between the two was even greater than the gap between the First Circle and the Third Circle.
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