The final evaluation would be held in the empty Grand Hall, which was much smaller than where the mid-term was held.

  The evaluation method was simple.

  The prospective trainees could show their desired swordsmanship in any way they wanted in front of the school master and the 4 instructors.

  However, the achievements the trainees accumulated over the past year were by no means shallow.

  “The low-ranked trainees have surpassed my expectations.”


  “There are a lot of children who have grown exponentially. The final evaluation will be a complete mess.”


  It was something the instructors said at the beginning of the admission.

  The ranking of the first physical test doesn’t matter. After all, a year later, the ranking would change.

  Everyone thought that it would change to some extent, but the current situation was very unexpected.

  Of course, it was a positive situation.

  Clench.

  Bratt Lloyd’s expression crumbled. Blood gushed out of his clenched hands.

  He was the only one who looked at Ilya and Irene’s faces alternately. Neither of them were looking at each other.

  Eventually, Irene stepped forward.

  He looked like a man made of steel.