The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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10
Episode 10. The Weight of Qualification
***
“Airi, check the equipment.”
I started with the armor.
What lay on the black velvet was a metal artifact.
A faint luster played across its surface, as though touched by crimson rust.
[Name: General’s Red Ceremonial Helmet (Fragment)]
[Grade: Rare]
[Description: An artifact refined from the protective aura that once dwelt in an ancient warrior’s helm.]
[Effect: Upon impact, reduces magical damage by 30% once per cooldown.]
[Cooldown: 12H]
“That’ll do.”
The physical defense was abysmal, but that single magical resistance option alone justified its worth.
It would dramatically improve my chances of survival against an unexpected ambush by a magic-type monster, or if I triggered a trap.
One extra life, in essence.
I stripped off my shirt.
The body reflected in the mirror was reasonably taut.
Though only Level 10, lean muscle had begun to define itself, and a faint film of mana flowed across my skin.
Perhaps I wasn’t cut out to be a swordsman.
“Airi, begin synchronization.”
[Understood. I will synchronize your biometric code.]
[You may experience pain.]
With the warning, the artifact rose into the air.
A low, humming vibration.
The surface of the helmet fragment shattered like glass, and blue runes poured forth from within.
They writhed in the air like living insects.
Screech—
The characters burrowed into my back.
It wasn’t a simple adhesion. The sensation of skin breaking open, seeping between muscle fibers and across nerve endings.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped through gritted teeth.
Something cold and damp raked across my spine.
To compare it to something—like a massive lizardman dragging a rough tongue across bare flesh.
A nauseating sense of foreign presence.
Artifact synchronization is no romantic process.
It’s a form of biological modification—forcibly implanting something from another world into a human body.
Each time my body rejected it, my back muscles convulsed involuntarily, cold sweat dripping down.
[Synchronization complete. Neural integration is stable.]
Dozens of seconds of torture had ended.
I ran my fingers across my back.
A crimson rune tattoo had been carved beneath my scapula.
The strangeness faded, leaving only a weighty sensation as though it had become part of my very body.
“I’ll never get used to this.”
Even after hundreds of times, the revulsion never diminished.
I rolled my shoulders a few times to loosen the muscles.
Next was the weapon.
As I pulled back the black cloth, an ornate scabbard emerged.
The dragon’s head, meticulously carved into the juncture between hilt and sheath.
A typical ring-guard saber form.
With a smooth whisper—
I drew the blade.
A cool, curved edge. Length approximately seventy centimeters.
Longer than the short sword I’d broken before, shorter than a longsword.
Optimal size for wielding in cramped dungeons or indoor combat.
The pommel bore a carving of a dragon’s head, inlaid with a blood-red glass orb.
Each time light caught it, it flickered like candlelight—clearly a piece worth some fortune.
‘Ornamental weapons always have lousy performance.’
I rotated my wrist, gauging the balance.
Light. Very light.
But the weight that settled on the blade’s edge was substantial.
The balance was superb.
“Airi, the specs?”
[Name: Dragon Head Sword]
[Grade: Rare]
[Description: A blade crafted by an unnamed artisan, modeled after the form of a dragon. The blade core is reinforced with an alloy of high mana conductivity.]
[Special Effect: ‘Blessing of the Dragon Gate’ – Mana efficiency and amplification rate increased by 25%.]
“Not bad at all.”
My eyes widened.
This wasn’t merely a boost to raw damage.
Mana efficiency and amplification rate.
In other words, expending the same 10 mana could yield 12.5 in power, or I could achieve the same result using only 7.5 mana.
For someone with a small mana pool like me, this was far more valuable than raw attack power.
‘This will synergize beautifully with the Synchronization Skill.’
The sword would compensate for the conversion loss when transforming mana into Aura.
For a weapon I’d only be passing through, it was almost too generous.
The skeleton had dropped something genuinely excellent.
I sheathed the curved sword and fastened it to my waist belt.
Click.
The sound of the leather strap locking into place was crisp and satisfying.
Armor and weapon.
The basics were settled.
I turned on my phone.
I opened the Hunter Qualification Management Authority app and checked the test schedule.
[25th Regular Hunter Qualification Examination]
[Date and Time: Month X, Day XX, 09:00]
[Location: Hunter Association Hunter Test Center Zone 7]
“Two days from now?”
That wasn’t bad. In fact, it was perfect.
Final training at the altar, conditioning dialed in—the timing lined up beautifully.
Whether city-affiliated or self-employed, operating without a license was illegal.
If I didn’t want those bureaucrats to find an excuse to arrest me, I had to work within the system.
A legal identity. That would be my first real weapon.
I pressed the button without hesitation.
[Registration complete.]
***
Before dawn had fully broken, my motorcycle came to a stop, cutting through the early morning air.
Hunter Association Hunter Test Center Zone 7
A former military facility that had been converted into a hunter examination ground.
Surrounded by mountains, the air here was clean.
Razor wire stretched along the top of the high perimeter fence.
Warning signs plastered everywhere: [No Entry], [Live Fire Range], and the like.
The atmosphere was more that of a detention facility than an examination center—oppressive, intimidating.
‘Still the same.’
I removed my helmet.
The memory returned: I’d failed this test three times before the Regression.
Back then, those iron gates had looked like the entrance to hell itself.
Now they were just rusty scrap metal.
Hundreds of applicants already crowded the entrance, forming a dense queue.
Young men with tense faces, middle-aged men muttering about their last chance, and thugs dressed to the nines in tacky finery.
The air reeked of mingled desperation and desire.
“Next! Present your ID!”
Armed soldiers controlled the entrance.
Before I joined the line, I quietly summoned Airi.
“Airi. You’ve set it up, right?”
[Yes. I have modified your public Status display.]
[Displayed Level: 5]
[Class: 1st Circle Mage]
[Primary Skill: Energy Bolt.]
Level 5, not 10.
Neither too low nor too high—a moderate level.
Unremarkable enough to avoid attention, yet competent enough not to be dismissed.
Above all, if my EX-rank Trait showed up on a scan, that would be a problem.
True strength had to stay hidden.
Besides, I’d switched Airi to silent mode.
Her chatter would only get on my nerves during the exam.
“ID confirmed. Please proceed inside and collect your equipment.”
I passed through the checkpoint without incident.
Inside, a temporary tent served as the equipment distribution station.
Personal equipment was forbidden for safety reasons.
Only standard-issue gear from the Association was permitted.
“Hmm, your occupation is… mage?”
The supply officer studied my paperwork and asked.
“Yes.”
“Would you prefer a staff, then? Or an orb?”
“A sword, please. Not a longsword—a shortsword.”
The supply officer’s hand hesitated twice.
He stared at me with wide eyes.
“A sword? But you’re a mage?”
“Yes, staffs are too heavy. A sword is more convenient for self-defense.”
“Ah… I see.”
A ridiculous excuse.
But the supply officer, looking irritated, simply shook his head and tossed me a Training Sword that had been gathering dust in the corner.
A blade of dull wrought iron.
Far too soft to cut through monster hide, but enough to break bone.
“You’re liable for any damage. Next.”
I took the sword and headed for the waiting area.
The waiting room—a converted aircraft hangar—was carpeted with hundreds of plastic chairs.
A cacophony of voices hammered and echoed off the domed ceiling.
“Hey, who’s the examiner this time?”
“No clue. Heard last year they got some lunatic.”
“God, I hope we don’t get undead. Holy magic is useless against them.”
“Going by the pattern, it’ll be ogres. Haven’t had one in three years.”
Idle chatter.
Mostly pointless worries.
There were no past papers for the Hunter exam.
Different examiners each time. Different monsters each time.
The moment you tried to predict, you’d fail.
I found a quiet corner, closed my eyes.
I let the noise around me fade into white noise.
Then a speaker shrieked with feedback.
“Ah, ah. Mic test. One, two, three.”
The room fell silent at once.
A man walked onto the podium.
Khaki field jacket, close-cropped military hair.
His sharp, angular stride made it obvious he was military-trained.
“Welcome. I’m Yu Hyeseong, affiliated with the Hunter Association, and I’ll be supervising today’s exam.”
Yu Hyeseong.
The moment I heard that name, my eyes snapped open.
A B-rank Hunter—the man known by the alias “Minotaur.”
The brute who swung his axe at the front lines whenever a major Gate opened.
An absolutist with no flexibility whatsoever. Rigid as steel.
If I remembered correctly, he didn’t belong to any guild.
‘Of all people, it had to be him.’
This exam’s difficulty would likely be high.
Yu Hyeseong had a notorious reputation among examiners as a failure machine.
He gripped the microphone and swept his gaze across the room.
A few applicants flinched at his piercing stare and looked away.
“I won’t waste time with pleasantries. This place isn’t a playground. It’s a gambling den where people who want to risk their lives for money gather. Let’s be honest about it.”
Harsh words.
But no one objected.
“You will face monsters in conditions identical to real combat. Your limbs may be severed. If you’re unlucky, you may die. The Hunter Association assumes no responsibility for any accidents.”
He waved the tablet in his hand as evidence.
“Sign the Waiver of Liability form that’s been transmitted to your terminals now. If you don’t sign, you’re out immediately.”
The speech was word-for-word identical.
I’d heard the same script before the Regression.
It was almost funny.
There was definitely a script.
This was a courage test. A bluff, like a first-stage filter.
Veteran Hunters were stationed around the test center at all times, so actual deaths were extremely rare.
“Insane… why won’t they take responsibility?”
“Are they mad?”
“Damn it, don’t lose your nerve.”
Curses erupted from various corners.
Some, seized by fear, dropped their phones and withdrew from the line.
But those who remained were different.
The fact was undeniable: accidents led to serious injury.
A mad profession where you earned money with your life on the line. That was what a Hunter was.
Ding.
A waiver appeared on my screen too.
[I hereby acknowledge that I will not hold the Hunter Association liable for any injuries or death occurring during the test.]
This time I signed without hesitation.
***
The murmuring died down.
Those who were leaving had left; only those staying remained.
The air in the test center grew heavy and still.
Click, clang.
The sound of equipment being assembled drifted from somewhere.
Applicants crowded around the weapon lockers scattered throughout the space, checking their gear with eyes that had sharpened.
Yu Hyeseong smiled grimly.
“Good. From now on, you are no longer civilians. You are corpses-in-waiting.”
Tension. Fear. And exhilaration.
The real test was beginning.
“Excuse me.”
Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.
I turned to see a man in a green training suit standing there.
His face broke into a smile.
His manner was carelessly light, untouched by any hint of tension.
Not my type.
“You look pretty nervous. Your shoulders are stiff.”
“And you are?”
“Ah, I’m Applicant #37. First time for you, right?”
Applicant #37.
He hadn’t given his name. His face was unremarkable.
But his eyes were strange.
He wore a friendly smile, yet his pupils moved ceaselessly, gathering information from everything around him.
“Yes, it’s my first time.”
“I figured! I can tell right away.”
The man shrugged and grinned.
“This is my second attempt, and let me tell you, it’s no joke. I heard the first time your heart gets so tight your hands shake. Ask me anything if you’re curious.”
I rolled my shoulder and nodded.
“Thanks.”
Inwardly, I sighed. He was clearly the chatty, idle type.
I had a feeling the conversation would only get longer.
As expected, he didn’t wait for my response and kept talking.
“So what’s your class? I’m a Knight. A Knight! Tanks are really popular these days, you know? So once I become a Hunter, I’m planning to take a job as a tank. That’s a solid choice, don’t you think?”
“A Mage.”
My answer was brief, but his face lit up immediately.
“Wow, that’s so cool. Mages get to blast magic and wipe out enemies, right? Actually, I wanted to awaken as a Mage too… man, I’m jealous. A real Mage!”
I’d made a mistake engaging with him.
My head throbbed from his relentless chatter.
The man glanced around briefly, then jerked his chin toward the examiner’s platform.
“See those men in suits standing beside the stage?”
“Yes.”
“Those are private guild recruiters. They come here specifically to scout anyone who passes. Can’t you smell the money on them?”
I followed the direction of his pointed finger.
Several men in crisp business suits stood near the platform.
One of them was holding a folder that caught my attention.
A skull emblem with an axe in the background.
‘Those people…’
It was a logo I knew well.
Guild Invictus—the sworn rival of Blade Guild.
The man continued talking, but his voice had already faded into the distance, just another layer of background noise.
I never thought I’d see that emblem again so soon.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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