The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live A Normal Life [EN]: Chapter 35

Lucas’s actions set a new example. It became clear to everyone watching after his turn: in this test, anything was allowed. From that moment on, people understood they could use any trick they could think of to survive for just one minute.

“Aargh!” A roar echoed as a huge man, muscles bulging, swung a massive greatsword. *Tap, tap, tap* – the sound of Roman’s wooden sword lightly hitting his own hand, waiting. The 72nd challenger.

The greatsword whistled through the air, a clumsy, wide swing that Roman easily avoided. Seeing his attack fail, the man, desperate, snatched a rough stone from the dusty ground and hurled it at Roman’s head. It was a cheap trick, unexpected.

Roman just moved his head slightly, the stone whistling past his ear. Before the man could attack again, Roman’s foot shot out, a swift kick to the jaw. *Wham!* A sickening crunch.

“Ugh,” the man groaned, blood spraying from his mouth. His eyes went wide and unfocused, and he crashed to the ground, face down in the dirt.

“Next,” Roman said, his voice calm. Foul play was not against the rules. And Roman showed no kindness to those who tried it.

Duel after duel, challenger after challenger, Roman continued. The 80th, then the 90th, then unbelievably, the 100th person stepped forward, and still, no one lasted a minute. The laughter from earlier had vanished.

Now, the applicants watched Roman with wide, frightened eyes. It was impossible. One hundred fights in over an hour! Anyone else would be gasping for air, muscles screaming. But Roman stood there, breathing steadily, as calm as if he had just begun.

He showed no sweat, no strain, nothing. His calm strength was more terrifying than any shout. Hope drained from the faces of the waiting applicants. Winning seemed impossible now.

They didn’t understand Roman’s secret. He had learned to fight in the ‘Sea of Corpses and Mountains of Blood’ – a brutal training ground where weakness meant death. There, you learned to control your breath, because if you lost control, you became just another body on the ground.

Baek Joong-hyuk, his past self, had drilled this into him: fight to the very end. With each breath in and out, his body, though still young and not fully strong, recovered slightly. This was fighting without magic, just skill and endurance.

For someone who had survived battles lasting days and nights, these short duels were nothing. The applicants were wrong to think waiting would help. Their fear was now a heavy weight, making their legs heavy and their courage disappear.

“Next,” Roman’s voice was like stone. It was the 120th challenger, the last one. He walked forward, his face already showing defeat. Just as everyone expected, it was over in seconds.

One sharp crack of wood against wood. The challenger stumbled, falling to one knee. His own wooden sword, broken in half by Roman’s strike, clattered to the ground. He bowed his head, a silent surrender.

The test was finally over. After one hundred and twenty fights, silence fell. People stared at Roman, their faces empty, unreadable. “What… what did we just see?” someone whispered.

They had watched it all, but their minds couldn’t grasp it. Roman Dmitry. He was changed, something beyond normal. The tests were done.

Remembering that losing wasn’t failure, Chris sent the exhausted and confused applicants away, telling them he would announce the results in two days.

The next day, Roman walked into Chris’s office and handed him a roll of parchment. “Here is the list of the thirty who passed. You will train them from now on.”

“Understood,” Chris said, taking the list. *Tak*. The sound of the parchment hitting his desk felt heavy. He unrolled it, his eyes scanning the names. The first name jumped out at him. ‘Vulcan,’ he thought, remembering. ‘Wasn’t he the first one?’

Vulcan, who had charged in bravely at the start, only to be knocked out instantly. His duel had been a disaster, but he was on the list of the thirty successful applicants.

‘The Lord must have seen something in his courage,’ Chris realized. ‘Even when everyone else waited, Vulcan stepped up first. He was beaten badly, but he had guts and seemed physically strong. Maybe good soldier material.’

*Scritch* – the sound of parchment as Chris turned the page. Most of the names made sense. Even if they hadn’t done well against Roman, they showed some strength or determination.

And then… ‘Henderson? Really?’ Chris frowned. Henderson was just… ordinary. He’d barely passed the first test, and in his duel with Roman, he’d been hesitant and weak, failing quickly.

Chris had assumed he’d be rejected. Unlike the others, Henderson seemed to lack any special quality. Chris almost questioned it, but stopped himself. It was the Lord’s decision. Roman wasn’t someone to pick people without a reason.

But then he turned to the next page. He couldn’t hold back his question this time. “Lucas? Lucas is also on the list?”

“Yes,” Roman replied simply.

Chris frowned deeper. “Lord, with respect… Lucas? I know he’s a B-class mercenary, skilled enough, maybe. But he’s… dishonorable. He cheated in the duel – throwing dirt, a dagger! Just to test the rules! And then he gave up! Surrendered when he thought he’d lose! That kind of man is poison in an army. A coward who’d run and leave his friends to die. How can soldiers trust him?”

Chris’s voice was tight with disapproval. He, a knight, valued honor above all. He would have fought to the death, never surrendered. He imagined leading soldiers like Lucas… it was a chilling thought.

Roman listened calmly, then said, “That’s exactly why he’s on the list.”

Chris blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You call him a coward who’d abandon his comrades,” Roman said, his voice even. “Maybe you’re right. But in a situation where everyone else just followed the rules, Lucas was the only one who thought outside the box. He found a way to try and win, even if it was ‘unfair.’ On a battlefield, that kind of person can be invaluable. They find ways to survive, to create opportunities where others see none.

Tell me, Chris, is using tricks in a test enough to say he’s a coward who’d betray his comrades? He only cheated because it was allowed. He hasn’t actually done anything to break trust yet.”

Chris was silent. Roman’s words… they made sense. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Suddenly, he remembered his old teacher, Jonathan, and his words echoed in his mind: *“The battlefield isn’t for knights in shining armor, Chris. It’s a place of blood and screams. The ones who live are not always the bravest or strongest, but those who can stay calm, see clearly, and make hard choices. Never forget, even the greatest knight can be brought down by someone hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance, like a hyena near a corpse.”*

Chris nodded slowly. Roman was right. It was too soon to judge Lucas. But… something else bothered him.

“Lord,” Chris continued, “there’s something else. Why thirty new soldiers? It’s a lot of men, a lot of money to pay and train. Dmitry already has soldiers and knights. Why now?”

Chris’s question was logical. He knew the family finances. Roman was supposed to go to the border in five months, yes, but that was far off. Recruiting soldiers now, especially common soldiers, seemed… premature.

The kingdom didn’t just take noble’s soldiers and throw them into battle without reason. Conscripted soldiers were for emergencies, reserves. Often, they served their time without ever seeing a fight. And Dmitry was a quiet frontier region. Battles were rare.

Keeping thirty extra men, paying them eight silver each month, starting now… it was a significant expense. Chris, as Vice Commander and someone who understood budgets, knew this wasn’t a small thing. He had to ask.

Roman looked at him, his gaze steady. “As I said to everyone during the test, I’m not planning to stay on the frontier forever. I’m going to climb, step by step, to the top. And you asked who my immediate enemy is? Think, Chris. Who do you think I’m focused on right now?”

Roman’s question hung in the air. Chris’s mind raced. ‘Enemy? But… who could it be?’ A terrible thought flickered in his mind. ‘No… it can’t be.’ He wanted to dismiss it, but Roman’s intense look…

He knew Roman was now a fighter, aggressive, but… not *this* aggressive.

“Yes,” Roman said, confirming his unspoken fear. “My father’s death. The Barco family caused it.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “From now on, Chris, we prepare for war with Barco.”

Even as Roman spoke the words ‘war with Barco,’ news was already spreading across the kingdom. The Barco family, with the official approval of the central government, had released a public statement. It was read aloud in town squares and posted on notice boards:

“To the people of the Cairo Kingdom, and to the Lawrence family: We have been patient. We believed in the promises made long ago and waited for Lawrence to do the honorable thing. But they have broken their word, betrayed our trust, and shown disrespect to noble traditions. Lawrence’s fault is clear: they refuse to repay the debt owed by their ancestors and will not return the land given as security. Therefore, we announce to all: if Lawrence does not settle this debt and return the land within one week, the Barco family will declare a territorial war, with the full support of the central government.”

Territorial war. A brutal fight for land and power. Because Barco had government approval, they had ‘justification’ – the legal and social reason to attack. In the world of nobles, justification was everything.

It meant other nobles in the region would likely stay out of it, seeing it as a private matter between Lawrence and Barco. If Roman’s marriage to Flora Barco hadn’t been broken off… things might have been different. A marriage would have created a powerful family tie, making it much harder for Barco to attack. Blood relations mattered.

But the marriage was over. And now, Lawrence was about to pay the price for that mistake.

The Barco statement continued, its tone hardening: “Lawrence, choose wisely. If you remain stubborn and try to keep what is not yours, the Barco flag will soon fly over your lands. We do not desire war, but do not mistake our patience for weakness. Barco is more ruthless than you can imagine when necessary.” It was a final warning, a declaration in all but name.

War was coming. It was no longer a question of if, but when.