Being an Alchemist Is Hard
This was around the time I met Sayulcheon in the Destroyed Kingdom.
She had reached for my sword, only to abandon the attempt under a searing baptism of red-and-white energy that poured down like lightning, accompanied by an intangible repulsive force.
That insane lizard launcher.
So what the hell was this situation supposed to be?
She had followed so meekly that I figured she had something to say — but from the look of it, she just meant to grab the sword and deep-fry whatever was inside.
Maybe I should snatch it back right now.
I gathered ether and was about to take a step forward when—
"Hmm. I see. For a tantrum, that was rather spirited."
Sayulcheon brushed Antares's assault aside as if it were nothing and sneered.
"…Still can't stand that human female."
"As if you're any better. If it were up to me, I'd snap this blade in half and kill you this instant."
It wasn't some prearranged farce — their killing intent simply evaporated as if it had never been there. Hearing Sayulcheon herself call it a tantrum while still gripping the hilt, I had to conclude Antares hadn't been trying to murder anyone; he'd just been blowing off steam.
Honestly, if it had been me, I'd have chucked the sword and thrown up a Transmutation Barrier on the spot. Watching her take that barrage barehanded and stay that calm… a hollow laugh slipped out of me. It was living proof that the legend of her slaying Antares was no exaggeration.
"…I see. So that's how it was."
Sayulcheon focused on the blade for a moment, eyes narrowed as if glaring into it, then turned her head with a composed expression. She looked as though she'd been conversing with Antares for a few minutes; I waited quietly until, by all appearances, they had finished. Worry sat heavy on her face, but underneath it was a thin thread of relief and something almost like anticipation.
"What did Antares say?"
I hadn't heard a word of their exchange. The voice only carried when you were holding the sword, so I had no choice but to ask directly.
Sayulcheon returned the blade to me as she answered.
"Nothing of real importance. Mostly things I already knew — and more than half of it was provocation."
"I see."
Fair enough. The odds of Antares knowing anything truly special weren't high. Sayulcheon had put him down only a few years ago, and after that — however the meeting had happened — he'd been wandering the Destroyed Kingdom inside Albedo's body.
But Sayulcheon still had something left to say.
"However…"
"However?"
"He told me to go eat shit. It would seem your friend in the Destroyed Kingdom has taught him human vulgarity with admirable thoroughness."
That, at least, she clearly hadn't seen coming. A dry, empty laugh escaped her, and then she smiled.
"Come to think of it — have you learned a cultivation method yet?"
"No. I've only built the body. I haven't learned a cultivation method."
As if I'd had the time. The President had been away dealing with Jerie's sister, so arranging a meeting had been impossible, and when I'd tried to learn from Sayulcheon, the conversation had veered off toward Charlotte and nothing had come of it.
"You're aware that after the midterms, there's a sports festival?"
"Yes. I've memorized the academic calendar."
"Then you also know the famous event that closes the sports festival?"
The sly look on Sayulcheon's face made my mind snap to attention. The closing event of the sports festival — something I'd been too busy to even think about until now — rose up in my memory.
"…The instructor exhibition match. Right?"
"Well remembered. Then are you also aware that this year, this one and you are the most likely pair to take the stage?"
How did the conversation get there?
Sayulcheon I could understand — she was practically the academy's mascot of an instructor. But me?
I pulled a face that made my disbelief plain, and Sayulcheon grinned as if the whole thing were the funniest joke in the world.
"You're the first new instructor we've had in years."
"That's it?"
"For a more precise reason, let us say it is your reputation — and your origins."
A sigh escaped me on its own. The reasoning was so airtight there was nowhere to wriggle free.
Every instructor at Origin Academy was someone who, within a century, would be written into the biographies and taught in schools. The same had been true of every instructor before them, and because of that, no one ever took an Origin Academy instructor lightly. How seriously? When I was first appointed, every news outlet in the world had been arguing about me nonstop.
It's so correct I can't even argue.
All anyone knew about me was that I came from the Destroyed Kingdom, that my identity was murky, and that I had no famous exploits to my name. That same person had become an instructor at Origin Academy, the place the entire world looked up to — so of course the gossip mills, inside the academy and out, had been grinding overtime.
The instructor exhibition match was a stage for advertising the academy's prestige, and at the same time a public declaration that the heroes holding the world together were still standing strong. Watching the finest heroes on the planet test one another was, in itself, enough to fill people with relief and swelling joy.
So here was the point:
"The academy intends to prove you. At the same time, it is preparing a stage on which you may prove yourself."
Announce to the whole world that I was more than worthy of being an Origin Academy instructor. Declare that every scrap of noise surrounding me was needless fretting, and that I was a hero who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the faculty. Countless people would need convincing — and the method was so simple it almost made me laugh.
All I had to do was face Sayulcheon — a powerhouse and hero no one could deny — and prove my strength and ability.
"Roughly three weeks remain until the sports festival."
The corner of Sayulcheon's mouth curved into a crescent. Her usually expressionless eyes bent into matching crescents.
"In that time, this one shall thoroughly temper you."
And that was how Sayulcheon's lessons, somehow already on fire, began.
When I negotiated my employment as an academy instructor with the President, I had secured the authority not to handle ordinary administrative work.
Sayulcheon, on the other hand, did have to deal with admin — but she was so meticulous and quick that she finished it in a blink and carved out free time for herself.
Which, I suppose, explained this.
"I'm dying… I'm actually going to die…!"
I was being relentlessly put through the wringer by Sayulcheon.
She hadn't stopped at teaching me a cultivation method. She'd thrown in fundamentals of close combat and swordsmanship as a complete package. We'd started around one in the afternoon, and quitting time was already drawing near. I lay sprawled on the floor, gasping, and looked up at Sayulcheon — who hadn't shed a single drop of sweat.
"Thinking about it now… do I really need this much close-combat training?"
"Is there any reason not to?"
"I'm an alchemist, not a martial artist."
Close-combat skill only needed to be good enough that I wouldn't get hit without being able to respond. If I could create even a brief opening in a desperate situation, I'd have time to counter with alchemy or try something else.
That had been my thinking. Apparently the person doing the teaching didn't share it.
"'Let's take it easy. This much should be enough.'"
"Huh?"
"That's the favorite line of people who die in real combat because they didn't train enough."
Come on — you're the one with all the experience. Using that experience to shut someone down is just unfair.
Faced with something so reasonable and irrefutable, I shut my mouth. Only then did Sayulcheon nod in satisfaction, and look down at me again with that ominous smile.
"You've rested long enough. Time to start again."
"It hasn't even been three minutes."
"Your body recovers fully with a single minute of rest."
Damn it. She noticed.
I scowled hard and slowly pushed myself up. My body had been slathered in so much Elixir that its recovery and base foundation were rock-solid. In fact, just as Sayulcheon said, my stamina had fully returned about a minute after I hit the floor. I'd just been so exhausted that I'd kept talking while lying there.
A martial artist of Sayulcheon's caliber, though, could see straight through that kind of little scheme.
"Then we'll finish with one light spar."
A spar, huh. Hard, but at that point it was practically merciful.
"I'll land at least one hit on you."
"Hmph. I look forward to it."
I exhaled, took up my sword, and settled into stance. Gathering my resolve, I declared it to Sayulcheon without flinching.
I was going to land one hit no matter what. A man who draws a steel blade has to cut something — even a radish. Getting beaten like a dog and calling it a day was not an option.
"Hoo…"
I moved the mana I'd accumulated in my body according to the cultivation method Sayulcheon had taught me. James's mana was already spent; everything circulating now was mana I had built from the ground up myself. Imagining water soaking into a sponge, I fed mana thickly through every part of my body along the same principle.
A body reinforced with mana was superhuman in the literal sense. On top of that, I wrapped myself in carbon armor from head to toe and pushed mana into the sword as well. Dumping it in recklessly was fine — Antares handled the fine control anyway. Maybe because this was a chance to land a hit on Sayulcheon, he was being remarkably cooperative.
This'll connect.
The moment every preparation was complete, I detonated the ground beneath my feet. With alchemy I twisted the composition of the air under my soles, and the shock and friction of kicking off the earth set it alight. Superhuman leg power, driven by the force of the explosion, closed the distance so fast it left afterimages.
In the blink of an eye I was on her. I swung the sword the way I'd been taught, aiming for Sayulcheon's body. I still couldn't produce techniques like blade aura, but I trusted the performance of the sword in my hand.
And — I missed.
"Ah, shit."
Sayulcheon twisted her body sideways as if mocking me and simply stepped out of the way. The sword, robbed of its target, sliced the empty air with heroic flair.
"That didn't land."
A sharp thok — the distinct sensation of a knuckle rap on the back of my skull. Sayulcheon, who had somehow already taken my rear.
Right. An alchemist should never try to beat a martial artist at close quarters.
Until quitting time, I engraved that fact into my body with great diligence.
Physically.