Crimson: born as noble lived as phantom

walked out of the fractured arena floor, my training sword lightly stained with dark monster blood.

The eyes of thousands of rookies locked onto my 6'4" blonde frame. A dense crowd of over four thousand commoner participants parted for me, murmuring in absolute awe. More than two thousand of them actively approached me, bowing their heads and pledging to work directly under my command for the next round. I had inadvertently become the god of the commoners.

Reaching the western exit, I spotted Lord Gurberr sitting stiffly on a stone bench. He was pale, frantically looking around to see if anyone was watching.

“Are you waiting for someone, Father?” I called out, my deep voice booming across the corridor.

Gurberr flinched, quickly pasting on a tight, nervous smile. “W-Will. Yes. I was waiting for you. You did well out there today.”

I immediately stopped, dropping to one knee in a deeply dramatic, flawlessly executed bow of fanatical devotion.

“Everything I am is because of your supreme guidance, Father!” I declared loudly, ensuring every passing noble could hear. “It wasn't my strength that killed the SSS-Rank apex beast. It was your light guiding my blade!”

Gurberr’s eyes widened in sheer panic, a thick drop of cold sweat rolling down his temple. He instantly realized I was playing a cruel prank on him—using my fake "brainwashed" persona to paint him as a terrifying puppet master. Nearby nobles drew back in fear, staring at Gurberr as if he were a hidden warlord.

“Gurberr. Come with me right now,” a sharp, icy voice interrupted.

Lady Neria strode past us, her face contorted in a mix of rage and aristocratic humiliation.

“Go, Will,” Gurberr muttered frantically, desperate to escape the spotlight. “Sit in the waiting area and don't talk to anyone.”

“No. Let the boy come with us,” Neria commanded harshly.

She led us deep into the secluded underbelly of the colosseum, far away from the crowds. The moment the heavy oak doors shut, Neria violently spun around, drawing her rapier and pressing the cold, razor-sharp tip directly against Gurberr's throat.

“Now tell me the truth, Gurberr,” Neria hissed, her eyes wild with fury. “Who is this boy? If you lie to me, I will slit your throat right here.”

Perfect. A golden opportunity.

THUD!

Before Neria’s brain could even register a shift in the air, I blurred across the room. My heavy, magic-reinforced boot slammed squarely into her armored gut. The explosive physical impact violently blasted her backward across the stone room, shattering a decorative wooden cabinet.

“Why you little—!” Neria gasped, coughing violently as she tried to scramble up.

She didn't even have the chance. Before her fingers could re-grip her fallen blade, I lunged forward, pressing the edge of my steel sword directly against her exposed throat, pinning her down. I had been wanting to kick her since she called me filth earlier.

“Will! What are you doing?! Why did you hurt her?!” Gurberr shrieked, his voice hitting a high-pitched octave of pure terror.

“Because she drew steel against you, Father,” I replied, keeping my expression entirely blank, playing the fanatical son flawlessly. “Anyone who attempts to harm you is my mortal enemy.”

Neria glared up at my mask of indifference, her teeth grinding in sheer humiliation. “Explain yourself, Gurberr! Explain this madness, or I swear by the royal blood, I will completely destroy your house for the attempted murder of a squad captain!”

“H-His parents died of illness when he was three!” Gurberr lied frantically, spinning a backstory out of pure adrenaline. “I took him in because even as a child, he never cried. He thought completely logically instead of emotionally. He reminded me of myself, so I dedicated my life to training him in secret!”

Neria stared at Gurberr, then looked back at my unblinking eyes. Slowly, she relaxed her posture. “I believe you, Gurberr. But only for now. The moment these exams conclude, I will launch a strict, comprehensive background check on this boy.”

I pulled my blade back, stepping away as she brushed the dust off her uniform and stormed out of the private room.

“Will it be alright, Lord Gurberr?” I asked, dropping the fanatical tone the moment the door clicked shut. “About the background check?”

Gurberr collapsed against the wall, hyperventilating. “Y-Yes. I already prepared flawless falsified registry papers in the outer provinces. But please, I beg you, stop trying to give me a heart attack.”

I chuckled softly. “I heard there are no breaks between the rounds.”

“There wasn't supposed to be a delay,” Gurberr sighed, wiping his brow. “But the final test was prepared to accommodate a thousand rookies at most. Thanks to you bisecting the beast, over seven thousand participants passed because they just hoarded the inner gems. The high council is panicking. The final test is going to be a nightmare.”

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A heavy, titanic aura approached the doorway.

“Hello, young Will,” a deep, rumbling voice echoed.

The door opened, revealing Lord Drake—the legendary captain who once rivaled the royal knights’ captain himself. He walked straight up to me, reached into his cloak, and slid a heavy, gold-embossed card directly into my palm.

“The person who broke the Royal Captain’s historic exam record deserves this. Take it it is the proof that from now you are my squad’s vice caption”

I wasn’t surprised I inspected the gold foil. It was a direct, pre-approved invitation squad card.

“But Lord Drake,” Gurberr stammered, his eyes wide. “Captains are strictly forbidden from handing out recruitment cards until after the entire exam finishes!”

Drake turned his massive frame, giving Gurberr a deadpan look. “Gurberr, do you honestly think this monster won't survive the final test?”

“No, it’s not that, but—”

“Then there is no problem. See you on the other side, kid,” Drake grunted, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as he had arrived.

Returning to the massive waiting arena, the sea of commoner rookies looked up at me as if I were a savior. But before I could reach my bench, a large contingent of high-born nobles intercepted me.

At the front stood Prince Nickel, his face taut with suppressed fury.

“Listen to me, commoner,” Nickel spoke, trying to maintain his arrogant, royal posture. “Even though you are merely an adopted stray, I am willing to overlook your low birth. Join my faction for the final round.”

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hall. The surrounding commoners grew deathly pale. If a monster like "Will Gurberr" joined the Prince's faction, the nobles would entirely monopolize the remaining slots, and the commoners would be systematically slaughtered.

I didn't even slow my stride. “Not interested.”

Nickel’s eye twitched. “One million Nerr. Cash.”

“Not interested.”

“Ten million Nerr!” the Prince hissed, stepping into my path.

“Not interested.”

“This is an absolute command from your Prince!” Nickel roared, losing all political restraint.

I stopped, using my 6'4" frame to tower over him, looking down into his sweating face with utter disdain.

“I am going to become the next Captain of the Royal Knights,” I whispered, my voice cutting through the silent room like a razor. “I only take commands directly from a King who has proven his worth on a battlefield—not from a lesser prince who possesses zero martial feats.”

“You... you talk too much for a commoner!” Nickel stammered, his face turning an ugly shade of red.

“I am a noble,” I corrected coldly, taking a step forward and forcing him to flinch backward. “An adopted noble who just proved his worth by cleanly slaying an SSS-Rank apex predator. What have you done today, Prince?”

Nickel bit his lip so hard it bled. Unable to counter, he spun on his heel and furiously stormed away.

“Long live Will Gurberr!” a commoner rookie whispered in the back, and a sudden wave of quiet cheers rippled through the commoner ranks.

“ATTENTION ALL PARTICIPANTS! ASSEMBLE IN THE GRAND ARENA IMMEDIATELY!”

The magical speakers boomed, and the remaining 7,300 rookies marched out onto the vast, sand-covered colosseum floor.

Lord Drake stepped up to the primary announcer's podium, his massive armor gleaming under the sun. The crowd fell into a dead silence. The strongest captain in the country was about to speak.

“I congratulate the 7,300 of you for making it this far,” Drake’s voice echoed across the stadium. “To accommodate this ridiculous number of survivors, the high council has structured a brutal final gauntlet. Enter!”

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

The western iron gates ground open. A rigid, terrifyingly disciplined vanguard of soldiers marched out onto the sand. They wore pitch-black enchanted plate armor, their faces entirely concealed behind runic vizors, and their weapons radiating a dense, lethal aura of seasoned killers.

The Royal Knights.

The elite military unit answerable only to the crown. The atmosphere in the stadium turned ice-cold within seconds.

“Their Captain was too busy with state affairs to attend today,” Lord Drake announced, his eyes scanning the trembling rookies. “So you will be facing his vanguard. The rules for this final stage are simple.”

⚔️ [FINAL TRIAL: GAUNTLET OF THE CROWN]

“If you are still standing when the three-minute timer hits zero,” Drake’s voice boomed like thunder, “you achieve victory and officially earn your badge as a Knight of the Realm. If you fall... pray the medical mages can stitch you back together. ALL THE BEST, ROOKIES!”

author's note: those of you who have came here to read the chapter from knight exam arc without reading previous chapters and doesn't know why erik decided to take such exam and what is happening i would humbly ask you as the author of this novel you should go and check them out quickly

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