A native of Essibenia, Couran hails from Ulstershire, a deplorable country of thugs, killers, and unworthy deaths, and it was from that wasteland that he emerged from the possibility of becoming an Astarte warrior.

At the same time, he was also the first candidate to be selected for reconstructive surgery: this is certainly because of his visible talent, but there is another reason, and this reason is very simple and realistic:

Because, if he is not dragged to surgery, the other candidates will be beaten to death by him.

——————

Curran fumbled around the room for a long time, but he only found a sword.

He reached out and gripped the strange metal he had never seen before, and for a moment he marveled at how such a tenacious creature had been casually thrown into the corner of the room: he had never seen such a good sword in the entire army of Ulstershire.

He held it tightly, and now, the weapon was his, his wealth and treasure, and no one could take it from him, even if anyone who came to ask for it would claim to be the original owner of the sword, only to be attacked mercilessly by Curran.

Fighting and occupying is like a hungry hound: this is the lesson that his past life has taught him, and he remembers it and enjoys it.

The mad dog from Ulster held the sharp metal in the palm of his right hand, constantly weighing and considering how to maximize the damage, but the process did not last long, because soon, a primitive instinct dissipated his preparation for the next battle.

Hunger.

He was hungry.

He needed something to eat, and he hadn't eaten for too long: since the tall men who called themselves the Selectors had taken them away from their companions, they had lost the concept of time altogether, and only the indirect warnings of physiology reminded them of how long it had been.

Curran vaguely remembered that the towering wilderness valleys were used as the first level of selection, and all sorts of beasts that lived there or were specially captured roamed in them, causing trouble or threatening to be deadly.

He remembered that only a small number of people had withstood the examination of their bodily functions and were able to enter the valley in search of a way out, or to become a ration for the beasts: he had heard a wail that also belonged to Ulster not far away, but he had no intention of coming to the rescue, not because of ability, but because of attitude.

He's from the Ulster, but that doesn't mean he needs to deal with the Ulsters, he's watched his peers from the same place or even different places form friendships while waiting for candidates, but he never disdains that kind of thing.

He made his way through the jungle, waited for the beasts to have their fill, and then launched a clean attack, digging large chunks of flesh from their bodies, finding a hidden corner, roasting them haphazardly until they were half-cooked, and stuffing them into his mouth haphazardly.

That's how he spent the next few days, the unfortunate candidates he saw as natural bait, and pieces of roasted, half-cooked meat wriggled in his stomach and intestines, helping the mad dogs from Ulster to break through the fog of the valley and make it to the next level.

For several days, he had not seen a single human skeleton, as if they had been devoured completely, or had managed to escape: the last vestiges of his uneasiness had dissipated with it.

He was the first: he confirmed it from the mouths of the tall silver warriors, and it was enough to make him feel more joy than any pity or mercy.

In the joy, he stood at the front of everyone, the first to rush to the next difficulties, and behind him were countless, only one and a half steps slower than him, the silver and white players, they were boundless, not to mention tens of thousands of people, so that this selection can continue.

In the days that followed, a dozen days, or even dozens of days, he marched through all sorts of unimaginable hells, his sensitivity to time had long been shattered by the storm of memory, and whenever he looked up, he could only see the ever-changing purgatory on earth: the bone-chilling wind and the endless desert, the deep forests of the beasts and the poisonous mist of the ponds, his struggle to trude through the storm of half-human mosquitoes, carefully avoiding the huge castle-like camps in the mist, Listen to the cries of the unfortunate as they fight the monsters in despair, and the strange gunfire and roar that ensues.

He didn't know how long it lasted, for he never looked up at the sun again, and he was swimming against the tide in the raging hurricanes and sandstone formations, urged by the successors behind him, who might or may not exist, and did not dare to stop for a moment, vaguely remembering that in some levels he was not number one: it was enough to make him so furious that he forgot the physical pain and suffering.

Finally, he made his way through the last dense forest infested with poisonous insects and small beasts, and came to a clearing in front of him, where a castle that merged with the entire peak, and looked like it might be hundreds of meters high.

Here it is, here he is.

There was no actual basis for it, but in the darkness, a distant voice told him so, and made him reassured.

Eventually, the last of his non-existent strength was exhausted, and his calves and arms whipped at all their muscles, gaining the last source of strength that allowed him to sit clumsily on the ground instead of falling straight down.

The moment he sat down, the rabid dog from Ulster fainted completely, and a moment before he lost consciousness, only to hear heavy iron boots stepping over the gravel and slowly coming to his side.

……

Curran blinked.

The memories that had been completely shattered drifted through his mind, but it did not stop his limbs from groping and moving in the real space, he crouched on the ground, his two outstretched arms also against the ground, and it was pitch black all around him, he took a step back, and his back was against a cold wall in the darkness.

It was a small room, no lights on, only a few faint rays of light coming from the ventilation ducts and the gaps he could not see, so that the Ulster man's pupils could barely distinguish something in the darkness, and with these glimmers he kept identifying the direction and position, and with the smell of the air, he slowly made his way towards the corner where he had presumed food and water.

He wasn't sure if he had been sent in by the silver warriors, but he was sure he could live well here: it was closed and dark, but it didn't lack anything to survive.

After slowly groping his way through the darkness for some distance, the Ulster found food and water, which he found not deliberately placed in the center of the room, but scattered randomly around the corners and surroundings, as if to tell them silently that if they could not stay active after awakening, they should not try to fill their stomachs.

Undoubtedly, that means elimination.

Curran reached out and grabbed the food on the plates, the texture coming from the center of his palm was like some mixture of sand and water, and it didn't have anything to eat other than delicate, but he did smell what could be called meat.

He thought about it, and first took a big gulp of some pure water, then grabbed what could be food, and tentatively stuffed it into his mouth.

"Don't worry, you can eat them, they're harmless."

Just as his teeth were about to touch the food, a faint sound came from a corner he hadn't noticed, startling Curran and jumping backwards, crashing against the wall: he himself was curious that he still had such power at this moment.

The mad dog from Ulster narrowed his eyes, he forgot about his hunger for a moment, and focused all his attention on the opposite point of sound, his pupils emitting a faint green, wolf-like light, and with all his attention, he quickly saw that a few meters away from him, under the corner of another wall, lay half-armed with a few empty plates and water bottles scattered around his hand.

The Voice Man was fully armed, his helmet and iron armor carved with ornate patterns covered his body, and in his other hand was a sword of great sharpness: but not as sharp as the one that Kulin had at hand.

He looked dirty, as if he had just crawled out of an endless stream of mud and dung, covered in dirt, but on his chest was a small coat of arms with some kind of ferocious beast that Kulin did not recognize.

The coat of arms was clean, a treasure that had been carefully kept and wiped, and in the dark room there was some abnormal metallic glow, telling a certain sentiment of nobility and adversity, which made Ulster's mad dog have some different irritability.

He was a knight.

After a brief observation, Curran made such a judgment.

He was illiterate, but in the stories of the druids and bards, Kuran could still remember some of the customs of other places, and he had heard them say that on the other side of the sea, farther away from the continents of Arcadia and Albernesia, there was a continent called Majorian, where the people were accustomed to riding on horses, hunting behemoths with spears and swords, and binding themselves with all sorts of oaths and virtues, and taking pride in it.

What a strange group of people.

He thought to himself, and looked at the fellow across from him, until he saw how filthy the knight was: he realized something in hindsight, that there was an unbearable stench on his body, and that his hands were covered with dirt and filth, and that the food he had caught was naturally contaminated.

But he didn't care, and after tentatively tasting it with his tongue again, he grasped the plate with both hands, and devoured these things that tasted a little meaty but were definitely not meat, and ate them like ignorant beasts.

The knight shook his head and sighed, and at his feet lay a strip of torn and soaked cloth, and his hands were as clean as the plates.

Curran heard the sigh, and he glanced casually at the knight, and the resentment in his heart grew more and more, and he bowed his head and munched again.

The food on these plates was not meat, but they were very hungry resistant, and after a few plates he was already full, and when these soft sand-like things entered his stomach, they would have a strange reaction with the water that had already entered, and soon his stomach was full of bells.

"Where are you from, stranger?"

Seeing that he had almost eaten, the knight on the other side of the room tentatively spoke, and under his heavily armed helmet was a wisp of a voice that was already extremely weak but still full of culture and politeness, which Curran had only heard in the mouths of the nobles who had been kept in captivity in the depths of the court, and with whom he had a very bad relationship.

He remembered the so-called queen who had started the war and drawn his native county of Ulster into flames: Maeve, who had fought against the army and warriors of the tyrant and won every victory until the county surrendered in the face of sheer numbers.

Kuran's efforts did not stop the fall of his hometown, and as a monster who could fight an entire army at the age of fourteen and flee with all his body, he was thrown into the Astarte campaign grounds by those in power as a difficult monster to deal with after the war, serving as both a meritorious and a bad one.

Thinking of this, the flames of anger burned higher and higher in his chest, roaring incessantly, intent on engulfing some unlucky bastard.

He glanced up at the knight, but did not answer, but traced the scraps of the plate with his rough fingers, and then put them into his mouth, licking them with great satisfaction.

After filling his stomach, he still clutched the sword, and looked around the darkness like a wolf, only to find that the room was larger than he had imagined, except for the knight who sat opposite him, which made him unhappy, and next to the knight, that is, in the diagonal position opposite Curran, the figure of Dao, who was thinner than him, lay in the corner, silent, not knowing whether he had fainted or was dead.

And when he looked to the other side, he saw a number of listless, strong figures, leaning against the corners and corners, some still fainting, while others had empty plates and water bottles beside them.

He cleared up the numbers a little, trying to count how many of those potential competitors there were, but as the view passed around a corner in the distance, the endless darkness finally clouded his pupils.

"Perhaps, I can introduce myself first, stranger."

"After all, it's rude to rush to ask someone whose identity is, I just forgot about that, and I apologize to you for my faux pas, stranger."

Opposite him, the knight was still speaking, as if trying to pass the unknown time in this way, and his voice clearly revealed some kind of noble cultivation and education, although there was not the slightest arrogance, but it made the wild alster-like mad dog feel instinctively hostile.

Curran remained in a crouching position, listening to the knight's words, listening to the family and history he didn't understand, and looking at the nagging fellow, thinking about how to better knock him to the ground in the future conflict.

This state lasted for a while, maybe half an hour, with the effect of sufficient food and water, Curran could clearly feel the strength returning to the muscles and tendons of his body, he glanced around, there was still enough food and pure water for several people, but he didn't plan to let them out, even if he couldn't eat a bite now.

Just as Kuran pondered how to pack them, a faint voice interrupted the knight's words and the hound's thoughts, and the figure lying beside the knight danced his arms to the sound, struggling a little weakly, supporting his body and slowly standing up.

The knight, who was still introducing himself, quickly discovered this scene, this noble gentleman from the continent of Majorian did not hesitate to lend his help, he gently caught one of the arms of the stranger who had just woken up from his fainting, and leaned him against the wall, after doing all this, the knight immediately looked left and right, trying to find some food and water to help the stranger who had just woken up.

Unfortunately, as far as the knight could see and reach, the only food and water left was next to Curran, behind the protection of Kuran's sword.

The knight hesitated, but he spoke.

"Stranger, I see you've eaten enough food and water just now, maybe you can hand over some of that food and water to help this brother who has just woken up, he really needs them."

Curran smiled, like a hungry wolf taunting a cowardly family dog.

The ruthless Ulster man, with a sneering countenance, uttered the first words without haste.

"Do you know him?"

"I don't know."

The knight shook his head honestly.

"But he needs help."

The words he uttered, uttering this absurd remark in Curlan's eyes, seemed like a rightful truth.

"He's your competitor, just as you and I are also competitors, and helping him is your own after embarrassment, don't you know?"

"I know, but now I see a stranger in need."

Curran blinked, his refusal exploding in the darkness along with his overly obvious sneer, and he swung his sword softly, leaning the plates full of food back again, and then watched the newly awakened figure struggle with hunger and thirst as if he were watching a circus show.

A few more obvious rays of light came out of nowhere, as if someone was watching from the darkness, and through these rays of light, the knight could see the cruel smile on Curran's face, and he turned over, clenching the sword in his hand, and the elegant words behind the helmet had turned into a rather serious inquiry.

And Kuran didn't care about all this, he just looked at the ray of light carefully, as if thinking of something, and a hint of beastly wisdom flashed in his savage pupils.

"You can help him, stranger, that food and water are of no use to you now, but for him, it is enough to save his life."

"I know...... But I'm not going to give it to him. ”

"Why?"

"I'd love to!"

The knight didn't reply, he was silent for a long time, and just as he was about to speak again, Curran moved.

Half angry, half playfully he grabbed a plate of food and threw it at the struggling figure, and with the sound of flesh being smashed on the plate and another cry of pain, the knight clenched his sword and stood up: he did not see at all, there was not the slightest hint of banter or cruelty in Curran's eyes, but a cold rationality.

"Stranger, I have to warn ......"

"Let the horses come!"

The mad dog from Ulster leaped to his feet, clutching the razor-sharp sword he had just acquired, moving his muscles and bones nonchalantly.

The knight took a deep breath and looked at his body as best he could, and Curran smiled.

"Seriously, are you really going to be my enemy for someone you don't know at all? You know, you're not my opponent, you're going to fall here, and your painstaking selection will come to an abrupt end here. ”

"Just because you're nosy."

The knight was silent for a moment, his voice a firm declaration.

"When I took my sword and possessed my coat of arms, I swore to every ancestor in the Hall of Glory that I would draw my sword for the injustice of any weakling, that I would fight to quell any malicious rivalry in the world, and that I would do everything in my power to bring back the light of reason and goodness to the world."

"The moment I made my vow, it became the credo of my life, the initial impetus that sustained me on every battlefield, I joined a great battle to defend the lands of Artois, protected dozens of villages and peasants from the hands of sixteen minotaurs, I single-handedly faced bandits, and protected the innocent maidens from Montfort Castle."

"I have joined countless battles, traveled countless times, and plunged countless times into fierce battles that have nothing to do with me in your eyes, just to fulfill my promises, only to fulfill the sacred vows I made to my ancestors."

"I won't go against it, no matter when."

Curran smiled, his teeth bared like a dog, and instead of speaking, he bent over, gathered his strength, and without hesitation rushed at the heavily armed opponent in front of him, his face distorted by the ferocity of the battle: his bloody mouth grinning to the base of his ears, his hair standing up as hard as a boar's mane, and his two eyeballs, one sunken and the other, bulging, like the twisted monsters of legend.

The knight was stronger than he thought, he withstood the impact of the crazy scene in front of him, leaving a few visible scars on the Ulster's body with strict defense and ferocious attack, but just as the most ferocious argali, he could not resist the bite of the wolf, and after a few rounds of lightning-fast confrontation and impact, Curran found an opportunity, he drew the knight's attention with a false shot, and then used a ferocious elbow to knock him to the ground.

Without hesitation, the hardest part of his arm slammed into the knight's heart, shattering the stronger will beneath the iron armor.

He won, cleanly.

With his feet on his opponent, his greatsword slashing lightly across the torn armor, Curran seemed to be wondering where to start, when an invisible force struck him.

He turned his head to see the figure who had just woken up, and he raised a hand with all his might, and the invisible power came from his whisper.

Curran recognized it as a man from the continent of Misca, who had been skilled in this invisible magic since ancient times, and had been persecuted for a time.

But now, this has become an advantage, and even those who do not have an extremely strong physique will become some kind of special candidates to join the selection of Astarte warriors.

Thinking of this, the Ulster snorted disdainfully, and he looked at the knight who had passed out at his feet, and threw off the helmet, and was greeted by a face that was older than him.

Those soft stubbles show that the knight is also a teenager, and the scars and vicissitudes on his face make him look like he is in his twenties or even thirties, and it also shows that his achievements are not boastful.

Curran snorted, he didn't take the life of this opponent, but instead set his savage gaze on the weak bug who dared to challenge him, the psionic power that had become tired from excessive weakness was swept away by him, and the tip of the knife was clenched, and the Ulster walked to his next prey, looking to see if he was going to start at the neck and deliver a fatal blow.

Slowly, he raised the blade.

——————

"Enough!"

——————

Finally, Curran heard the voice.

With a satisfied smile on his face, he quickly put away his blade, his movements as smooth as if he had never intended to harvest anyone's life.

He turned his head to look in one direction he had anticipated, and sure enough, as he thought, as he had deduced from the sudden appearance of light, in that direction a hidden door that no one could detect was pushed open in the blink of an eye.

An unprecedentedly tall Astarte warrior walked in, perhaps four meters tall, and when he walked up to Curran, he first glanced at the unconscious knight to make sure he was breathing, and then some admiring gaze turned to a cold gaze and shifted back to Curran's body.

For the first time, Kuran breathed heavily, expecting him to adapt to these miraculous figures, but when the unprecedentedly tall Astarte warrior walked all the way in front of him, the fearless savage couldn't help but whisper praise.

"O gods......"

He admired the perfection of killing and the merciless body of the tallest.

"Your gods have nothing to do with this, candidate."

The Astarte warrior who had come to this room stared coldly and mercilessly at the savage madman in front of him, and for a moment, Kuran thought he was going to twist his head off, but in the end, he only asked in heavy words.

"You did it on purpose, and you perceived the hint of all this?"

"It's intuition, my lord."

The Ulster laughed, and after overcoming his initial fears, he dared to show that savage smile to the son of Morgan, his gaze scattered as he looked at the open door, from which he could faintly feel a few cold glints.

"I had irresponsibly guessed that this would be a little episode between the trial and the final session, a free time for you to better observe us, but I'm sorry I can't stand this free time, so I decided to do something and let you take me away."

"I guess I passed, didn't I? After all, I did not commit any bans, and any non-lethal battles in the selection process, were allowed. ”

“…… Yes. ”

After a long silence, the Astarte warrior reluctantly acknowledged Kuran's words.

"You don't have to stay here, come with me, you passed all the previous tests with the best grades, a priceless genetic seed and a modification operation are waiting for you, if you can withstand their power, you will be just like me."

Kuran heard enough news to make him happy, and he stared closely at the Astarte warrior who seemed to have some ill intentions, and in a trance, he had a feeling that this silver-armored warrior seemed to have some invisible resemblance to the knight he had just defeated.

"I'm going to fight alongside you, my lord?"

The warrior paused.

"I am the Emperor's soldier."

"And Morgan's heir."

"I come from the nascent Dawnbreaker Legion, loyal to the great Queen of the Dawn."

"My name is Hecht, and I'm the company commander of the 23rd Company of the Dawnbreaker Legion.

"Let me tell you, candidate."

"Yes, if you can survive the transformation surgery, and all the training that follows, if you are lucky enough and unlucky, you will be assigned to my men, become my warrior, and become mine...... Fight brothers. ”

That's enough.

Kuran laughed, grinning, the ugliness of the battle still not disappearing from his countenance, the big mouth that grinned all the way to the base of his ears made him look more like some terrible monster than a human, he looked directly at Hecht and asked the most important and final question in his mind.

"I'm number one, right?"

“…… Yes, candidates. ”

"If you really want to know, then let me tell you that as of now, about 10,000 people are still undergoing the final test and observation period, and you are the first of them to undergo transformation surgery."

"Yes, you're the first."

——————

When the knight awoke, he was greeted by another Astarte warrior.

Unlike the tall, ruthless, and majestic Hecht, the light gray hair and kind smile of the Morgan son made him look more like a benevolent teacher.

"Ah, you're awake?"

"Don't worry about that companion next to you, he's been rescued in time."

"Time? It's been three Terra Standard Days since your coma, and yes, all the makeover surgeries are going on one after the other, and yours is done. ”

The knight blinked, and he quickly glanced down at his body. Only to find that he had not become as tall and burly as the Astarte warrior in front of him, a possibility flashed through his mind, making his face pale.

At this moment, the Astarte warrior beside him patiently patted him on the shoulder, and his kind smile seemed to have a natural magic, allowing the knight who was in the dark inside to find some kind of pillar and direction to move forward.

"Before I get into the rest of the conversation, let me introduce myself to you, as you can see, I'm a member of the Dawnbreaker Legion, and you can call me Hawthorne."

"Here, I regret to inform you that although your physical indicators fully meet the criteria for becoming an Astarte warrior, you do not match our genetic seeds, and forcibly implanting them will not be successful in the slightest, but will cause irreparable damage to your body, so after consideration, we have given up on the modification of you."

"But don't despair about it, young man, everyone's future has multiple routes, and now you are only experiencing temporary setbacks, which does not mean that your life will be over."

"Truth be told, three days ago, I and a few other warriors were watching each of you every move in the period after all the trials, and you made a very deep impression on us."

"Young man, you can't be a warrior, but that doesn't mean you can't contribute in other ways, for Morgan, for the world in front of you, for the oaths you care about and for everyone."

"Let me tell you, while this transformation operation is underway, our great genetic protogens have officially signed a new law, and in the other world of this galaxy, among the brightest stars you can see when you look up, we will build a university city that can cover the entire world, and it will be called the College of Loyalty."

"It will have countless colleges and universities, as well as the best teachers hired from all over the galaxy, and it will continue to produce a steady stream of real mainstays in administration, law, management, people's livelihood and other aspects."

"Hereby I extend an invitation to you, although you cannot become an Astarte warrior, but your physical fitness, your moral sense, and what you actually do all show that you are capable of great deeds."

"Therefore, here, I hope that you will be the first students of this soon-to-be-established college, and I will personally write a letter of recommendation for you, given your past experience and your own character, I think you are very suitable to be a member of the judicial academy under the Loyal Heir Academy."

"You will learn there how to distinguish and enforce all kinds of laws, and how to find the right balance between law and humanity through the special circumstances of the local area, so as to help the weak who need help, so as to calm those evils and let true peace come to mortals."

"When you graduate from there, you'll be assigned to the legal department."

"This is a department directly under the genogen, and no one has the right to govern it, and it will be a paramilitary organization that can operate independently between worlds, maintaining the justice and enforcement of the law."

"When you've completed all your studies at the Loyal Heir Academy, passing all of your graduation exams, live-action drills, and moral exams, you'll be in that department to defend your oaths and aspirations among the countless stars conquered by the Dawnbreaker Legion in the future."

"Come, young man, take it."

"I don't ask you to report to that academy right away, I know how hard it will be for you to not be able to be Astarte, but please remember that."

"Being a candidate for Astarte, being able to get this far, is in itself the best proof of your strength and ability, and not being able to become Astarte in the end only means that you may not be suitable for this path, but it cannot rule that you are a failure."

"It's just a temporary defeat, young man. Join us, and you will gain a real direction of power in the future, and you will be able to wash it away with countless successes and careers. ”

"You're a mortal."

"But mortals can be great too."

"Yes, remember it, that's the school language of the Academy."

(End of chapter)