Meanwhile, deep in the wisteria grove.
Makomo sat on a bluestone, holding a fruit larger than her palm and eating it in small bites.
Her expression was utterly calm.
She looked nothing like an aspiring Swordsman taking part in a "life-or-death selection."
Instead, she looked like a little girl on a spring outing.
The Final Selection... was much more peaceful than I imagined.
The high death rate of the Final Selection that Master Urokodaki had mentioned had once made her imagine what a hellish sight it would be.
After all, apart from her two Senior Brothers from the previous selection, not a single person had passed in all those years.
At first, Makomo had prepared herself for a fight to the death the moment she entered the mountain.
Perhaps because of the immense pressure, she had even had a nightmare not long ago.
In it, she and her Senior Brothers from previous selections, including Sabito, were hunted down by a mutated Demon at the Final Selection grounds and ultimately died in helpless frustration.
That was why she had not rushed deeper into the mountain after entering.
First, she had circled the outskirts, memorizing a few distinctive landmarks.
Then she had climbed a tall tree to observe the mountain's terrain from afar.
It was always good to be cautious.
But apart from being pitch-black, this mountain was not all that frightening.
It was hardly full of birdsong and fragrant flowers, but it was not much different from an ordinary mountain forest.
In the middle of the night, there were few animals around, apart from the chirping insects.
Occasionally, though, she could faintly hear sounds of fighting in the distance.
Someone had probably run into a Demon.
But she had not hurried over.
Ever since her two Senior Brothers had returned safely