I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

The Trial Room's interior remained unchanged, though the lighting today was unusually bright from the start. It felt almost deliberately irritating, as if designed to make those below feel like sinners, regardless of their actual guilt. Yet, the atmosphere differed from last time.

I glanced up at the wall and immediately understood why. Only one person was on the wall today.

It was a young man with turquoise hair that hung limply like seaweed—Archmage Assad. He was so elusive that he earned the nickname of a recluse.

Why is he here? I wondered.

"You came," he said, his tone suggesting he had been waiting for me.

I studied his face from a distance before bowing politely. "It is nice to meet you. The Badniker—"

"No need for more formal greetings," Assad interrupted.

"Yes."

"Sit."

At his command, I sat on the table where I had placed my belongings last time. By now, it felt almost like my designated spot.

I looked up at Assad and asked the question burning in my mind....