Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Master
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"I'm your disciple, Pamon?"
<Suddenly?>
The book spoke up for me.
<What is this, Pamon? You serious?>
"Would I joke about something like this?"
<That's exactly why I wish it was a joke. Bet Rishir feels the same.>
"Probably. Sorry about that, Rishir. I know you have no choice but to accept."
Pamon spoke to the book without so much as changing her expression or tone.
She kept that same lively, upbeat voice, calm as ever.
Her attitude made it hard to figure out how to take her words.
For now, though, I was curious.
In this world, the bond between master and disciple was no light matter.
I wanted to know why this extraordinary woman had suddenly decided to take me as her apprentice.
"Um... is it because of my constitution?"
I wasn't always this bastard son, but right now, I was swimming in wishful thinking.
Maybe this constitution she mentioned was something incredible?
Enough for someone like her to just up and claim me like that?
Those Bendel bastards... gonna flip their shit, huh?
"Well... yeah, you could say that. Or rather, that's what makes this possible."
"Makes what possible..."
"I'll explain. You have a right to know, Rishir."
Pamon's story was shocking.
Long ago, Bendel's founder, Radola Bendel, had made some kind of deal with Pamon's master.
Radola gained power from that deal and promised that, in return for Bendel's future prosperity, they'd offer up their most precious treasure.
"...so, you're saying that's me?"
"Yeah."
"...think about it again?"
I had to admit it.
Me? Pretty cool and sexy for a bastard, sure.
But Bendel's most precious treasure?
That's highly debatable.
If we announced it to the family right now, we'd have a truckload of guys drawing swords.
Or maybe this constitution of mine really is that special?
"You hate the idea of becoming my disciple that much?"
Pamon asked with her usual bright, cheerful face.
Hate it? Not really.
For a bastard like me with nothing to his name, finding a master isn't easy.
One as extraordinary as Pamon? Impossible.
Normally, I'd have bowed nine times before she could change her mind, making her question her hasty decision.
But circumstances being what they are...
The scale has to match.
Bendel Radola.
That guy's basically the family's founder. His name's right there on that giant statue in the mansion courtyard.
And I'm the payment for his promise?
The family disgrace is actually their greatest treasure!?
Is the world a joke? Or some light novel?
I couldn't even guess what would happen if things went south.
Obviously I'd be screwed, but it might bring disaster on the whole Bendel Family too.
"Fuck it. Let's do it."
That part especially appealed to me, so I accepted the offer.
If it goes tits up, it could destroy not just me but Bendel too?
For real? This isn't a dream, right?
I'm turning eighteen this year.
Time to unleash eighteen years of pent-up bastard rage.
If they've been swinging their dicks around recklessly, they deserve to pay the price. That's how the world should work.
A shared fate where we all go down together. Isn't that what true family is?
Bendel, which always felt so distant, suddenly feels close. So this is family bond.
"Really!?"
Clap!
Pamon clapped her hands excitedly.
"I'm so thrilled. What a relief. I won't look like I'm dragging you off against your will."
Was it my imagination?
I swear I heard something pretty ominous from my new master's mouth.
"...so my answer didn't really matter much, did it?"
"Of course it did. See how happy I am? That you chose to become my disciple of your own free will, not because you were forced."
"Master... not to bring it up now, but honestly, I'm a little worried. Can I live up to your expectations?"
My master here. Doesn't look like your average person at first glance.
And she's a mage to boot.
I might know some swordsmanship from peeking over shoulders, but magic? Total newbie.
Can I really meet her expectations?
"Of course, of course. No need to worry. My disciple Rishir... do you know what your greatest strength is?"
"I'm pretty smart for a bastard. Tough too."
"So cute."
"...Pardon?"
Master kneaded my cheeks with both hands.
"You're doing great, Rishir. Just keep being you."
Wait... am I a disciple or a pet?
A belated wave of anxiety hit me over my master's unconventional view of master-disciple bonds.
"Shall we go for a walk?"
Master and I left the library and strolled through the streets.
Thanks to her perception interference magic, no one batted an eye at the talking book or the stunning dark elf.
Pretty convenient spell.
Wonder if I can learn it?
"Hmm..."
Master had been humming thoughtfully, lost in contemplation.
She was leaning on my arm with hers hooked through it, so the vibrations carried right over.
"This is awkward... so awkward..."
"What's troubling you so much?"
"Rishir, my disciple."
"Yes, Master."
"This might be disappointing, but hear me out."
"I'm ready, Master."
"Sadly, I'm not all that skilled with the sword."
<Not skilled? That's an understatement. Disaster. Let her pick up a sword, and it'll instantly become a demonic blade with a mind of its own, swinging its wielder around.>
The legend of my master's demonic sword prowess, as told by the book.
Sounds fascinating.
So, basically, Master sucks at swordsmanship?
"Duran. Be nice in front of my disciple. You can't even hold a sword yourself~"
Typical talking book. Brutally logical.
"You're a mage, Master, right? Does it matter if you're not great at swordsmanship?"
"It does. I'm a master now, aren't I?"
Master tapped the sword at my waist.
I carried it around because, you know, Bendel style.
"As a proper master, I should teach my disciple, who walks the path of the blade, but it's so awkward. That's what I'm pondering—how to blend my knowledge with swordsmanship."
"Master, I have no intention of sticking strictly to the sword path. Whatever you teach me, I'll follow faithfully."
"..."
I'd never seen it before.
My bubbly master looking so troubled.
"Master? Is something wrong?"
"Well..."
"No way."
"Eek."
"You're telling me a muscle-headed sword nut who's never learned a lick of magic in their life can't even picture stepping into the realm of intellect like magic!?"
"N-no, that's not it. Probably."
Master couldn't meet my eyes.
I shook off her arm, and she collapsed to the ground in despair.
"Rishiiiir~"
"Perception interference magic... powerful stuff. Her voice no longer reaches me."
"My disciple~"
It'd be a lie to say I wasn't disappointed at all, but it wasn't a huge letdown.
A bastard from a sword family turning out to be a magic prodigy?
I'm not soft enough to expect that plot twist.
<Hey, Rishir.>
"Yes, Duran?"
<Know how long it takes average mages to learn the basics?>
"No idea."
<Three years.>
"Pardon?"
<For mortals, anyway. Seeing mana, feeling it, controlling it—that's the average. Only after three years are you ready for real magic training. That's the starting line. Of course, it varies: two years, one year, six months, even one month in some cases.>
"How long for me?"
<Sword or magic, same deal. Talent, environment, bloodline—that's what decides.>
"I'm from Bendel, you know."
<Exactly the problem. You're Bendel blood. Hundreds of years of shunning magic for swords.>
"What a cursed lineage."
<Told you.>
By the way.
That's how Duran started.
<Pamon might seem carefree, but she's a busy woman with official duties. She only stopped in Haeren for a quick errand. Once that's done, she's out.>
"...a week's miracle? Study magic twenty hours a day starting now—think I can pass the academy entrance?"
<What nonsense is that?>
As I chatted with the book, my sprawled-out master looked up at me like a puppy that'd been booped on the nose.
"...Master? For real? We don't have much time together?"
"Sorry, Rishir. Truth is, I was so focused on finishing the homework my master left me that I didn't think much about what came after."
"No way our master is some screw-up who wasn't fated to have disciples?"
<Nailed it. She's not the type to take on others.>
"Rishir, sorry. Disappointed?"
"Perception interference magic... powerful stuff. Her voice no longer reaches me."
"Nooo~"
The perception interference only worked on the book and the dark elf.
Onlookers gathered in the street.
The bastard's tragic one-man show went on for a while.
The dejected bastard trudged back to the Bendel mansion.
The annex again.
Library, mansion—all annex life.
Isn't this the star treatment?
"So, how about this? For the time we have left, I'll focus on practical experience over theory."
<Sounds right. A week at most? No point cramming theory now. But why tell me?>
"My disciple won't listen to me."
<Would you want to talk to you?>
The talking book and dark elf followed along.
Go away.
You said your business is wrapping up.
That's a big deal.
Before heading to my room, I stopped by the small training yard in the back garden.
Part of my routine.
After the library, some exercise and training.
Since Bendel neither taught me swordsmanship nor sparred with me, it was all I could do.
I drew the sword at my waist and was about to swing it around when—
"Wait."
Pamon called out urgently.
"Please, Rishir. Let me help."
"...sigh. Fine. What do you have in mind, Pamon?"
"Pamon now? You were calling me Master just a bit ago."
<That was before we learned you're a lost cause. Still, using honorifics— you've raised a good disciple.>
"Past tense already~"
Pamon said she'd be my sparring partner.
To build real combat experience.
"Didn't you say earlier? You turn into windswept grass if you pick up a sword."
"Oh, don't worry. It won't be me fighting— it'll be this one."
Pamon clapped lightly, like summoning a servant.
The ground in the yard split, and vines burst forth.
They twisted into human shape.
"...Pamon, this for real? Looks pretty damn vicious."
Plant zombie.
Sounds eco-friendly and nice, but that thing's appearance is no joke.
Like a human snared by vines, body taken over by mushrooms.
"Oh? Isn't it cute?"
"..."
Cute?
You called me cute too.
Does that put me in the same category?
I gripped my sword and took a stance anyway.
But I felt lost.
I'd swung this blade countless times.
Never against something that moved, though. Literally.
No one in Bendel would spar with a bastard.
No one would even allow it.
I wasn't permitted to learn swordsmanship.
If I'd enlisted in the army, maybe they'd teach me basics out of spite.
"First time sparring, so go easy on me."
"You got this, Rishir."
<First spar at your age? In Bendel?>
"You'd get it if you were born in Bendel, Duran."
"Right."
It looked vicious, sure, but it had no presence, no intimidation.
I could win this easy.
Or so my baseless confidence told me as I stepped forward.
<Oh god, that stance—>
Even the book sighed at my pathetic strike as it connected with the plant zombie.
A limp thud.
The plant zombie exploded.