Chapter 69: The Crown

By the time Sigurd reached the southern extraction station, the sun had begun disappearing behind the western peaks.

A long procession of exhausted applicants wound between the stone pillars marking the boundary, some limping on makeshift crutches, others carrying pouches so tightly that their knuckles had turned white.

Instructors stood beneath Helheim’s banners, checking numbered examination tokens against the registration formation.

Sigurd joined the queue behind Cassian, whose torn sleeve had been bound with a clean strip of cloth.

Neither cousin mentioned their duel. Odin appeared shortly afterward, carrying his spear across his back, while Kong came down the road laughing with two applicants who looked too exhausted to understand whatever joke he was telling.

Tristan and Astrid reached the station from the western route, followed by a steady trickle of Great Branch descendants and vassal children.

At the registration table, an instructor accepted Sigurd’s token and directed him toward a broad stone counter. "Place every unregistered marker and Demonic Core here, then keep your hands clear while the formation verifies them," the instructor explained, gesturing toward the engraved circle beneath the surface.

Sigurd emptied his pouch, arranging the prizes beside those he had already registered during the examination. The instructor checked the cores individually, confirming their rank and validity before recording the additional points against his token.

"Your score has been verified, Sigurd. Proceed to the waiting grounds," he instructed, returning the token.

Sigurd accepted it and stepped aside, noticing Cassian at the neighboring counter undergoing the same process.

Sigurd resisted the temptation to ask about the result. If the rankings were going to be announced publicly, he preferred to hear them with everyone else.

The waiting grounds were crowded with applicants in various states of exhaustion. Others spoke excitedly about the beasts they had killed or argued over whether a particular core should have counted.

A few sat apart from everyone else, staring at the mountains with the hollow expressions of children who had barely survived.

Isolde arrived with the remaining members of her alliance shortly before the deadline.

Two injured applicants leaned on their companions, while another was carried on a stretcher fashioned from branches. Isolde’s face was pale with fatigue, but she remained beside the injured until the instructors had examined every one of them.

Helena appeared from another trail supporting a boy with a swollen ankle. When she spotted Isolde near the physicians, relief crossed her face, and the two cousins exchanged a weary embrace before helping the injured boy onto an empty bench.

"You actually brought everyone back," Helena said, looking over Isolde’s diminished group with quiet admiration. Isolde rubbed her aching shoulder and answered, "Not everyone stayed with us. Some wanted to improve their individual scores, and I couldn’t stop them. But everyone who needed help made it here."

Helena glanced toward the boy she had escorted and smiled. "Then I think you did rather well," she replied. Isolde looked toward the registration counters, where stronger applicants were still submitting their prizes, and shook her head. "We’ll see what the instructors think."

Matthias arrived carrying his sword in one hand and a bulging pouch in the other. He seemed considerably less interested in the waiting crowd than in describing a beast whose armored limbs had required three different angles of attack.

Konrad listened for several moments before interrupting him with an amused expression. "You realize the examination is over, don’t you? You can stop looking for things to cut."

Matthias regarded his cousin as though the suggestion were unreasonable. "I know it’s over," he replied. "That doesn’t mean the interesting parts have stopped being interesting."

As the final sunlight withdrew from the cliffs, a horn sounded across the station. Instructors closed the registration approach and counted the applicants who had crossed the boundary before sunset.

Of the more than twenty thousand candidates who had entered Grauwald seven days earlier, fewer than three thousand had successfully completed the examination.

Thousands had failed to accumulate the required points, while others had surrendered after exhausting their supplies or suffering injuries that made continuing impossible.

The instructors had intervened repeatedly throughout the week, rescuing applicants from Demonic Beasts, dangerous falls, and encounters that would otherwise have ended in death.

Hundreds had sustained serious injuries, and without the instructors’ intervention, many would never have left the mountains alive. The survivors had every reason to feel proud.

Several latecomers appeared along the upper trail after the horn, only to discover that the deadline had passed.

One boy protested bitterly, insisting he had enough points to qualify, but the supervising instructor explained that reaching extraction on time was part of the examination.

The surviving applicants were assembled before a raised stone platform beneath the academy banners.

Dietrich Falk stood at its center, accompanied by the instructors who had observed their progress throughout the week.

When the last verification report reached him, he examined it carefully and signaled for the results to be displayed.

A broad formation awakened behind the platform, projecting rows of names and numbers in pale light. Conversation faded as the children searched for themselves among the successful candidates.

Dietrich waited until the crowd quieted.

"Admission required at least twenty verified points, arrival before sunset, and satisfactory conduct throughout the examination," he announced, his voice carrying across the grounds. "A high score does not excuse deliberate killing, and a timely arrival cannot compensate for failing the minimum requirement. Those whose names appear on the admission register have passed. The remaining applicants will receive their individual assessments before departure."

Relief spread through the crowd in uneven waves. A young vassal applicant burst into tears when he found his name, while another stared silently at the register until his friend pointed to it again.

Isolde’s remaining companions cheered when they discovered that every injured applicant they had escorted had qualified. Helena smiled at the boy she had helped down the mountain, whose name appeared near the bottom of the successful list.

The formation changed, replacing the admission register with the final ranking, while every remaining conversation across the waiting grounds abruptly stopped.

Dietrich allowed the suspense to build for a moment before directing attention to the leading positions.

"These standings include every verified prize and the conduct assessments recorded by our observers," he explained. "The order you see is final."

The names appeared from tenth upward. Matthias occupied tenth place, drawing a disappointed frown from the young swordsman until Konrad nudged him with an elbow. Isolde stood ninth, her expression brightening when several former companions applauded.

Alaric claimed eighth, while Astrid took seventh after an exceptionally strong final day. Konrad appeared sixth, and his easy smile returned as Matthias complained that sixth was an irritatingly respectable position for someone who had spent half the examination amusing himself.

Fifth place belonged to Kong Zhen. He stared at the formation, then threw his head back and laughed.

"Fifth! After all that? I should’ve chased a few more bulls!" he declared, earning an incredulous look from Odin.

Fourth place went to Tristan, who accepted the result with a quiet nod. Odin claimed third, and the applause grew louder as the golden-eyed spearman acknowledged the ranking with a restrained bow.

Among the other Great Branch contenders, Leander, Sabine, Elsa, and Rolf secured strong positions farther down the list, while several High Vassal descendants placed within the leading thirty.

Only two names remained. Cassian looked toward Sigurd, who was standing several steps away, and offered him a small smile. The formation revealed Cassian in second place, drawing an immediate round of applause from the Main Line descendants.

Cassian accepted the result without disappointment, although his eyes remained fixed on the empty position above his name. Sigurd felt his heartbeat quicken as the final line began forming, its letters appearing slowly beneath the golden emblem of Helheim.

First Place — Sigurd Di Grandel.

For a moment, Sigurd heard nothing but the wind moving through the banners.

Then the waiting grounds erupted. Kong whistled loudly, Odin nodded in acknowledgment, and Cassian stepped forward to clasp his cousin’s shoulder.

Dietrich lifted a ceremonial crown from a velvet cushion and summoned Sigurd onto the platform.

The crown was a symbol of the examination’s highest honor, not a royal title, and with it came the right to choose first among Helheim’s Five Holds, along with the First-Year Crown Residence.

Sigurd accepted the crown beneath the gaze of the assembled applicants, feeling its weight settle against his hair.

He had entered Grauwald determined to win, and seven days of blood, exhaustion, and relentless competition had brought him here.

Beyond the station, Helheim’s immense towers rose above the mountain ridges, their distant windows catching the last traces of evening light.

Dietrich allowed the applause to fade before surveying the successful candidates with an expression that gradually became considerably less pleasant.

"Congratulations," the senior instructor announced. "You have passed Helheim’s entrance examination."

He paused as relieved smiles spread across the crowd, then continued with unmistakable satisfaction. "Unfortunately for you, that was the easy part."