SomaRead | How to Teach a Hero at the Academy

Chapter 33: Returnees Do Not Return (5)

──Tadat!

Felix kicked off the ground.

The bloodstains of the soldiers were scattered everywhere. Felix's footprints were engraved on the reddish-black carpet.

The man standing before him. He was a monster, without a doubt. Felix thought, staring at Abel's momentum. Abel Argento, the man who had been chosen as a saint of the sword at the youngest age. There was no way to escape from that man. And so, it was joyful. Felix licked his lips. The salty taste of ecstasy lingered.

“Show me your skills, Abel Argento!”

Felix's sword extended.

Abel bent his hilt. He held out his sword towards the approaching offensive. Gigik, and. The sound of iron clashing against iron. Felix's sword brushed past Abel's blade. That was enough.

Jjaenggang──!

Felix's sword, shattering.

It was the result of touching Abel's Aura.

“How truly admirable!”

Felix did not stop.

“Did you destroy the warships using that Aura!”

There are many weapons. So many it's sickening. The swords, spears, axes, matchlocks, and crossbows that the dead soldiers had been holding were abundant.

Felix, who had taken a step back, reached out his right hand. He snatched a sprawled sword. With his left hand, he grabbed an axe. He must not give him a gap to release his Aura. He must push on. Felix moved forward with strength in his legs.

A distant sword dance.

The sound of metal echoed.

‘He's fast.’

Abel thought, countering Felix's attacks one after another. He was swift and at the same time, precise. Felix was thoroughly sealing the eight directions around Abel. At this rate, the gap to activate his Aura would disappear.

‘It doesn't matter.’

──Chaeng!

After deflecting Felix's blade,

Seureuk──!

Abel extended his left arm.

As he was, he wrapped it around Felix's arm and turned. With his arms crossed, he blocked his movement with his back.

“Well now. You're quite skilled at playing games, aren't you?”

Felix said, looking back at Abel.

A continuing struggle. Abel moved in a direction symmetrical to Felix's motion. The two people, circling in place as if drawing a circle. Felix clenched his teeth.

“I will ask.”

On the other hand, Abel steadfastly bound Felix's arm.

“You were a Holy Knight. The Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy was a formidable enemy of the 2nd Prince, and it goes without saying that they are a power that hates apostates. Did you long for war so much that you would join hands with your adversary?”

“Then would I be doing this because I miss my runaway dog!”

Felix took a deep breath.

He bent at the waist to throw Abel's body. Abel, who had noticed this, stepped back. A gap that opened. About five steps? Felix wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His rough breath came out.

“……Look at the ones you have killed.”

Felix said, panting for breath.

“The remnants of the 2nd Prince's faction are just over half. Not only those who followed the 1st Prince, but also many from the retinue of the 4th Prince who became the emperor. Knights, mages, and dreg soldiers……. A very diverse gathering. For some reason, I was the only Holy Knight. Was it because of their faith in the damn main gods?”

Ptui, and.

Felix spat.

“Madness has brought us together, Abel. It's a truly funny thing, isn't it? Those who were hostile to each other during the Mirror War have gathered and become one, solely to recreate those times. Some with the intention of committing suicide. Some because they have developed a taste for slaughter. And some others……”

Felix's sword tilted.

Tuduk, and.

A blade that pierced through a steam pipe.

“……To show them!”

Pasaseut──!

Hazy smoke shot up from the pierced steam pipe.

Abel's vision blurred. The hot stench that seeped into his nostrils. The steam generated by burning magic stones surrounded all sides.

“To show them that peace is nothing but an illusion!”

Felix's shout that followed.

Abel surveyed his surroundings. A hazy figure, strutting amidst the feast of steam. Felix was circling the area.

Then, pajit, and.

The bolt of a crossbow, flying in. Abel's legs moved. The arrowhead plunged down according to the direction of his running. Abel's hand, brushing against the empty air. He opened his subspace and snatched Maurice de Olfrange's Sword Breaker.

“When you all discuss the end of the war, to show you that there is a war that never ends!”

Abel put the hilt of his beloved sword in his mouth. He deliberately slid his accelerated body. His right hand, grabbing a pillar. As he was, he turned half a circle and charged at Felix.

He pronounced it, chewing on the hilt. A circular flash of light formed on Abel's right hand. Relying on it, he cut through the steam. At the moment he reached Felix's side,

“Hoo.”

Felix whistled. He had heard the story about the cast shortening. Because the students had whispered quite a bit. Though it was just a disguised identity, Felix was also a professor at CIAR.

If so, I must also show a secret technique. One corner of Felix's mouth went up. Abel's blackish-blue eyes, cast before him. Deudeuk, and. The crossbow, crumbling, pushed away by the Sword Breaker. Then, just as Abel was about to right his beloved sword,

Felix's cast was completed.

<──Please, just die.>

──Pabat!

Between Abel and Felix, a small explosion took root in a gap of less than a single step. The smell of dust, scattering with the sound of a deflating firecracker. It was the result of a failed cast. Though it had no killing power, it was enough to buy some time.

Felix quickly swept the floor. He held the sprawled matchlock and longsword together. He used the blade of the longsword as a friction surface and swept the wick of the matchlock. The catalyst was the steam generated by the magic stone. The residual fire that had occurred for a moment spread, using the steam as a medium, and,

Kwaang──!

The steam pipes that made up the warship exploded.

Felix's sword, descending, cutting through the flames.

Abel crossed his beloved sword and Sword Breaker diagonally. Chaeng, and. Felix's attack, settling in the gap created by the two swords. Abel's hilt extended outwards, and Felix's sword, cut by it, scattered into pieces of iron.

But Felix's offensive continued.

Sword, spear, axe.

The weapons scattered everywhere.

They were settled in Felix's hand.

Abel shattered them one after another. The fragments of the broken weapons were buried in the flames. Soot, spreading in all directions. Abel repeatedly retreated.

How troublesome.

Abel thought, opening his subspace.

Maurice de Olfrange's Sword Breaker was stored.

Felix Christian. No, the anonymous Holy Knight is surely a seasoned man. After deliberately failing his divine magic, he was taunting Abel's vision as if throwing grains of sand. The agility in handling weapons. The patience to continue his momentum. And wit. Not a single one was lacking.

And above all, he was used to handling gaps.

To control the moment is the very foundation of a duel.

‘It would have been easier if I could just kill him…….’

Abel's objective was ultimately to capture him alive.

Felix also knew that, and must be using it.

‘I'll have to make his arms and legs unusable at least.’

Seureung──!

Abel's beloved sword was stored in its scabbard.

Abel Argento-style sword-drawing technique, ‘Killing the Empty Air’.

A margin-white Aura extended, becoming a straight line. Cracks that decorated all sides. Felix's gaze flashed.

‘This is…….’

What on earth is this? What is he trying to cut? It's not the skin. Not the wind, not the flames. It's something deeper, as if he's trying to cut a realm that humans cannot perceive.

If I get caught up in it, I'll die. Felix's instinct let out a scream. He reflexively reached out his hand and grabbed a dead soldier by the scruff of his neck. He threw him as he was and blocked the gap of the unknown streak of light.

──Puhwak!

A corpse, stuffed and bursting in the air.

It became a blood-red downpour, shattered in an instant.

Swaaaa──.

And so, it poured down from above Felix's head.

The remnants of the dismantled soldier.

“Haha……, ha…….”

A hollow laugh spread across Felix's lips.

A Sword Saint. A saint of the sword. What about that man is sacred? It's a disaster, so to speak. A living disaster. To think he would shatter the four directions with a single sword strike. It was an unbelievable thing.

The pillars that made up the warship began to collapse. It was the result of the sword-drawing. While the hull was also tilting, aided by the flames, Felix stood up straight to keep his center of balance.

Yes, that man had cut space itself.

Felix sensed it, with his eyes wide open. I was lucky. I am unharmed just because I was lucky. Thinking so, Felix laughed.

A breath formed on Felix's cast.

Pajit, and.

A small explosion spread around Felix.

It was a powerless heat. The Pantheon did not respond to Felix's question. It was not that it refused. The main gods did not know. The meaning of Felix's words itself.

<……You won't be able to understand.>

Felix lifted his head.

He had become younger at some point. Felix, who had mixed swords with Abel in the form of a young man, was now standing in the flames in the body of a boy. A small build. A short stature. A shadowed expression. The regressed Felix resembled his young personal disciple.

Felix cast in a young voice.

Felix's surroundings, covered in the fragments of blood, guts, and skin,

only a hollow explosion was engraved.

……I am hateful.

Felix muttered so.

Felix's shout, pushing through the flames.

Yes, that's what it is.

What awaits at the end of war is not its end, Abel.

It's oblivion. Peace is just a word to justify the world, it doesn't actually exist. The souls of those who died on the battlefield do not seep into a memorial. They just rot in the middle of the battlefield.

So I……,

<……have returned, to the place where I should have died.>

A distorted smile was held on Felix's whole face.

Do you understand……,

Can you understand?

Felix asked, panting for breath.

“I understand.”

Abel answered stoically.

Felix's cast stopped.

“I also once resented the world.”

Abel took his collar.

He wiped the blood from his beloved sword.

It wouldn't come off. Since his whole body was covered in blood. He was just covering blood with blood.

“It's an old story. The woman I loved lost her life at the hands of those I sought to protect. Nailed to a square, she left me her last words. Not to resent those who had brought her to her death. That they were just weak people. I couldn't do that.”

Abel asserted, stroking the hilt.

“That is why I am standing in this place now.”

He had no confidence to mix in with peace.

He probably couldn't have stood a generation that was forgetting hardship. Maybe he would have even sought to break such a world. Abel wore a self-deprecating smile.

He had run away. And at the end of his flight, he had become ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’. Abel knew that fact well.

“So I will ask. Who did you lose.”

Abel directed his question at Felix.

“Did you lose a close friend? Did you lose a comrade? Did you lose a worthy rival?”

Or……,

Did you lose someone you loved.

At such a question from Abel,

“……Someone I loved?”

Felix's eyes widened for a moment, then sharpened. Felix's sword, rising amidst the flames. It was impossible for the arm of his boyhood to support a longsword. Felix's hand began to tremble.

“Someone I loved. How absurd. While I was roaming the battlefield, my wife was fooling around with a merchant. She was living very well. My daughter was also following her new father well? So I slaughtered them myself. Both my wife, and my daughter……. So I am a war fanatic……, just a madman of war.”

And so, the madman of war aimed his sword at Abel.

He was not in a state to handle the weight of the sword alone. That was why the hand gripping the hilt could not be a single pair. It became two pairs, and soon, three pairs.

Two women of a translucent form protected Felix's side. A middle-aged woman gripped the hilt, shedding tears, and a young girl gripped the hilt with a smile. The three of them were holding onto a single sword.

“……That's right.”

Felix said, clenching his teeth.

“A returnee……, has returned.”

That is Aura.

Abel thought, staring straight ahead.

The Aura of Felix Christian, the nameless Holy Knight, is supporting the hilt. A worn-out belief was preparing a single strike.

“I should have died in the mire of the battlefield, and……, that is why I have arrived at the end of a long wandering. A place where my name, hometown, and the life I've lived until now are worthless. The battlefield is the very cemetery prepared for me!”

On the other hand, Abel gripped the hilt with both hands.

‘A belief does not lie.’

He didn't kill his family, but lost them?

Abel thought, pushing through the flames. Even so, there was no room for consideration. The warship was falling, and time was of the essence. To Abel, Felix was just a target.

‘I have to end it in one strike.’

And so, the madman of salvation aimed his sword at Felix.

He alone supported his beloved sword, which had long since passed the time for it to be discarded. That was why the belief on the blade was nothing more than a margin-white color. An Aura as empty as to be transparent raged mercilessly.

In the distance, amidst the flames, the madman who had feigned to be an old man stood in the form of a boy. Another madman had never achieved the level of an old man. Though he had endured countless years, though he had lived countless lives, he had never enjoyed a time to peacefully draw wrinkles.

They were the same madmen.

But they were different. To the madman of war, gain and loss, victory and defeat, and life and death were meaningless. Because war would only make all of that crumble into futility.

To the madman of salvation, it was crucial. It was only right to gain an advantage, to repeat victories, and to survive, even if it was forced. For a single mistake would disturb the journey of salvation.

“Here I come!”

Felix leaped, kicking off the floor. He poured all his strength into the hand gripping the hilt. The sharp pain of his bones being crushed. It was not a problem. A faint touch was taking care of Felix.

“──Come.”

Abel's beloved sword soared high. A margin-white Aura wrapped around the blade. A belief trained solely to cut. An Aura, tempered countless times, began to seep out, tearing at his skin.

This is the end.

The madmen were both certain.

A flash of light that surrounded the warship, covered in flames.

It covered the space between the pile of scattered corpses.

It was the conclusion.

“Well now. How could it be so tragic……”

Tuduk, tuk…….

In the center of the collapsing warship,

Felix was panting, covered in blood. His body, which had undergone regression, had entered its childhood long ago. The pronunciation leaking from between his teeth was ridiculously comical. If a little more time passed, he wouldn't even be able to say a single word. What a rare end, Felix sneered at himself.

“What did you eat to become so strong? Why don't you tell me too.”

“I do not eat.”

Abel replied in an indifferent tone.

His beloved sword, being stored in its scabbard. Abel grabbed Felix's arm. He lifted him up to meet his eye level. Felix's dangling body was surrounded by an oversized uniform.

“Let's drop the useless talk. From now on, I will escort you.”

“Do as you please. It's fine either way. But you'll have to hurry.”

Felix said with a slick expression.

“Look at this state. Don't I look like I'm about to become a newborn baby? The tongue of a brat can't answer any interrogation. I wonder if my brain will shrink too, I don't know if I'll be able to think normally.”

Ah, and…….

The thing hanging between my groin will also get smaller.

That's a bit of a shame.

Felix muttered so.

“There is one thing I want to ask.”

Abel supported Felix.

He asked quietly, walking amidst the flames.

“Your disciple……, you gave Dante Marchisio a cursed artifact. What was the reason for that?”

“I just used him a little. To make him run wild appropriately. So that chaos would spread within CIAR.”

“It would have been better to just feed him a monster's core. He would have become a Haunted One. Didn't the apostates tell you.”

“Oh dear, are you trying to give me tactical advice?”

Felix chuckled.

“Cut it out. The cursed artifact was a weapon I was going to use myself. I would have run wild in exchange for getting power, but it didn't matter what happened. I had no intention of surviving.”

But well……,

That Dante fellow kept pestering me for it.

So I gave it to him. Because I thought it would be more fun that way.

Felix muttered so.

“My professor status was just a disguise anyway. I don't take on disciples. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Well, I don't know.”

──Koong!

Abel kicked the exit of the command ship. The iron door, pushed by his shoe, was swept away by the strong wind and dangled. At some point, the city streets of the capital, Naflansee, were getting closer.

“Dante Marchisio is safe.”

Abel muttered, looking down at his feet.

“Hoo, that's a relief. I was hoping that fellow would survive without any trouble.”

Felix let out a deep sigh.

It was a lie. He quickly glared up at Abel.

“……Did you think I would say that? Don't make me laugh. Now that I see it, you're also quite mad. Dante. Dante Marchisio. What about that brat.”

Are you telling me to be happy after confirming his safety?

Go to hell. You arrogant bastard.

Felix's young voice swirled through the wind.

“What on earth do you know about me. Do you know my name? My place of origin? My history? You don't know a single thing. Don't give me room for forgiveness. It makes me want to vomit. I have no intention of responding to the hope you have.”

Madman……,

You are also a madman.

Felix, who had been muttering so,

“──Ahahaha!”

He burst into a laugh with a delicate voice. Small lips, large eyes. The blackish soot that covered such a young face. Felix's expression was like that of a mischievous child who had played a prank with all his might. Whatever curse he hurled would be nothing more than a chatter. He had become so small that he couldn't even fully contain his malice.

“Keuk……!”

At that moment, Felix's complexion, turning pale.

“Oh dear……. It's time.”

His lips trembled in pain, and his eyes, which had been filled with laughter, welled up with moisture. His hair falling out, and at the same time, his face shrinking. The regression had begun towards the point of his birth. Not only his body, but also his mind. The ego of Felix, who had undergone regression, was just as it had been when all humans were born,

“Ah……, yes. Of course……”

He began to shed tears.

Because his small body could not hold back his tears.

“As expected……, everyone was waiting.”

And so, then, there.

A long thought brushed through Felix's mind. Even so, it was a fleeting moment. As if the hands of a clock were being forcibly rewound by a human hand, the faint beating of his heart flickered in reverse.

Mercilessly, without stopping.

Yesterday is seen. The day before yesterday is seen.

A year ago is seen. Ten years ago is seen.

It was a perfect return. To dig up the firm dirt field of memory with his hands, and to throw himself into the mire he had carefully prepared to arrive.

In the past he had longed for for so long.

But now, here.

A fleeting retrospection was a physiology for the dying.

Felix was not dying. He was getting younger.

Crying, crying, crying.

A baby's cry shot up. Just as he was about to dig up the dirt field of memory and make a mire, it was as if he had touched an unnoticed water vein and had been swept away by the current.

And so, someday, somewhere.

A baby cannot retrospect. It just vaguely looks forward.

Tomorrow is seen. Three days later is seen.

A year later is seen. Ten years later is seen.

It was an unstoppable advance. He had begun to strut on the dirt field of memory. Laboriously crawling, barely standing up, and at some point, starting to run.

His legs becoming sturdy, his arms becoming strong, his hair growing, and learning expressions, and finally even learning to speak.

- T, Teacher?

Suddenly, he turns around and smiles.

Even tomorrow, even three days later, even a year later, even ten years later, he would hold out a small hand.

- That sword……, won't you give it to me?

In his hazy memories, his name even forgotten,

in the form of his disciple, who would soon be all grown up.

“──Brat.”

And so, Abel covered Felix's eyes.

With an indifferent expression, but with a gentle gesture.

Whether in the form of an old man or a child, to Abel, he was nothing more than a dizzyingly young being.

“You were too reckless. It's past the time to stop crying.”

Seureuk, and.

Felix's uniform, falling to the floor. Abel wrapped Felix in it as a blanket. It was time to escape. He thrust his beloved sword into the floor of the command ship and injected Aura, and turned his back on the steel warship that was being cut into countless pieces and scattering. While even the flames were reduced to dust like a daydream,

Tuk, and.

A light leap.

Abel jumped off towards the capital.

He glided distantly, holding Felix in his arms.

On the wide soil of Naflansee, the knights and mages, commoners and nobles, and all sorts of intelligent life forms who had been moving busily, witnessed Abel. Who is that man? Around the time a consistent question was embracing the skies of the capital,

‘Of all places.’

Abel thought, looking back at the place he would land.

The 3rd district of the capital, Naflansee. Among the buildings designed in an old style, a museum with a luxuriously shining exterior was under repair. It was because the ceiling had suddenly collapsed a few days ago. The down payment had been paid by the House of Orléans, and the culprit was, without a doubt, Abel.

‘……Iris is going to be angry this time.’

Abel looked up at the sky with a blank expression.

It was impossible to change direction. The same went for landing on two feet. If he had jumped alone, he could have tried, but preserving Felix, who was in his arms, was the priority.

And so, Abel closed his eyes.

He entrusted his body to gravity in a straight posture.

──Kugwang, and.

The sound of the museum's ceiling collapsing.

A sharp scream and a shrill cry. All sorts of voices pierced Abel's ear.