How to Teach a Hero at the Academy Chapter 156 : Chapter 156

Chapter 156: The Academy’s Great Sage (2)

Who is he?

Narrowing his eyes, Emilio wondered.

A man had approached them. A face one might find anywhere along the roadside. Perhaps around fifty. A protruding belly bulged through the gap in his worn wool cloak, and a balding scalp glead between sparse strands of hair. He looked more suited to a midnight tavern than the daylight of CIAR.

“Um…….”

Emilio stepped forward.

It sounded as though Dietrich had murmured “Father,” just now.

They did seem acquainted. The man and Dietrich were facing one another. Even so, Emilio spread his arms and stepped between them.

“Wait.”

There was only one reason he was being so wary.

It felt like he was seeing an afterimage. The man’s body wavered, half-transparent.

“……Who are you? State your na.”

Emilio asked, and the man shrugged.

Instead of giving his own na, he discerned Emilio’s.

Then, brushing his palm down his face,

He whispered while taking on Emilio’s appearance.

What? Emilio muttered under his breath, his expression stiffening. The man’s features shifted in an instant. Perfectly identical to Emilio’s, as if reflected in a mirror. It did not feel like the result of a spell. He had not sensed any sign. A transformation spell should have required a complicated preparation.

The man simply smiled.

With mischief lingering at the corner of his mouth, he continued.

Emilio’s face flushed faintly.

Why do I have no friends? It was true that he had fallen asleep thinking that. How did he know? Emilio bit down on his lower lip and swallowed.

The man did not mind.

He stroked his chin and leaned forward.

Bringing his face close to Emilio’s, he murmured.

A big friend, he said, and the man took on the form of a large-built young man.

Or a cheerful friend, and he laughed in the shape of a smiling boy.

If not that either……, he muttered softly, then—

The man asked in the form of a girl.

Every face was familiar to Emilio. The large young man, the boy smiling brightly, and the girl fidgeting with her sleeves before his eyes were all classmates from the sa year as Emilio.

“Father.”

Suddenly, Dietrich spoke.

Leaning back in his wheelchair, he bowed his head.

“Emilio is soft-hearted. He also seems to have been sick recently. Please refrain from cruel jokes.”

CLAP.

The man clapped his hands.

“You flatter . For what purpose have you co to CIAR? My brother left last night. He said he would inspect the north and then return.”

This feels unpleasant.

Frowning, Emilio thought.

The man chattering away in the form of a girl irritated him. Was that really Dietrich’s father? Emilio found it hard to believe. He had never heard anything about their father from Dietrich, or from Lizer either. And he had been caring for Dietrich for over two years now.

“……Did you co to see ?”

Above all, discomfort.

Emilio shuddered with a vague sense of revulsion.

Everything about the man felt unpleasant. His speech was polite, yet seed tinged with spite, and even though he wore a girl’s face, there was not a shred of affection in the way he looked at Dietrich.

The man addressed Emilio.

As if he could clearly see through his thoughts.

But I am grateful.

At least I can prove gratitude, he whispered to Emilio.

From then on, you have continued to care for Dietrich until now.

You help him go on walks by pushing his wheelchair, and you assist with his als, even though he struggles to move not only his legs, but even his arms.

He is useless, really.

How did he even manage to enroll at CIAR?

It would not be strange to think such things, and yet—

“Are you reading my thoughts?”

“Then how…….”

Emilio took a step back.

Two steps, three steps, retreating as he glared at the man.

He had never heard of a spell that read another’s thoughts.

Perhaps black magic could do it. Even so, an Apostate should not have been able to use a spell without any sign.

“Emilio, it is all right.”

Dietrich whispered to him.

Soothing the frightened Emilio, he continued.

“Father has no ill intent.”

“He is simply an exceptionally gifted mage.”

“Märchen Blackmore.”

“I did not call you.”

I thought it best to say your na.

For Emilio’s sake……, Dietrich murmured softly.

“……Märchen?”

Emilio’s eyes trembled.

“Märchen Blackmore?”

He knew the na.

The sage among sages, Märchen Blackmore.

The sole superior of the Five Magic Tower Lords standing on the brink of the end of magic, and their most feared rival. There was no subject of the Empire who did not know the na Märchen.

Yet only the na was known.

Nothing concrete was known about Märchen.

Or rather, it was muddled. Because she had achieved too much, because her actions were impossible to predict, fact and rumor were hopelessly intertwined. That was likely why so enthusiasts even regarded Märchen as a fictitious being.

Perhaps that was true.

Emilio thought so. Märchen standing before him looked unreal. She wore the face of a girl, and her body wavered, half-transparent.

Märchen spoke calmly.

She brushed her face and transford into another form.

Dark silver hair, as if soaked in ash.

And eyes of dark blue-black, like a mire.

Märchen spoke the na of the person whose face she wore.

Smiling with Abel’s face, she asked Emilio,

***

Abel rested his chin on his hand.

He stared ahead with an indifferent expression.

Across the round table in the center of the office, Märchen sat in a chair and chambled on without pause. Strictly speaking, she was floating, rely appearing to sit.

He had been polishing his weapons.

It was a peaceful afternoon he had not enjoyed in a long ti. With freshly laundered towels piled high, he had pulled his arms from Subspace and was wiping them down. There were no other engagents, and it would be enough to oversee Monika’s training in the evening.

So noisy.

Brushing his hair back, Abel thought.

Märchen’s appearance irritated him. She had taken Abel’s form, mixing laughter into Abel’s voice as she babbled on.

anwhile, Fabien carried in teacups.

Emilio and Dietrich stood to one side of the office. He offered cups to the two who were staring blankly at Abel. Then, tilting a teapot heated by magic, he poured black tea.

[I hope it suits your taste.]

He offered a brief greeting, and—

“……Thank you.”

“ too…….”

Emilio and Dietrich replied softly.

It did not seem like a situation where they could raise their voices. Märchen’s voice was loud, but more than that, the presence emanating from the silent Abel was far from ordinary.

Clear killing intent.

Killing intent was leaking from Abel.

Is that not so?

Märchen asked, but—

Abel did not respond.

He rely looked at the weapons scattered across the round table.

From among them, he picked up Vanessa Bernstein’s repeating crossbow.

CRACK.

The sound of a bolt tearing through the air.

Without a word, Abel pulled the trigger at Märchen.

CRACK again.

The bolt pierced through Märchen’s forehead.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

Abel continued to pull the trigger in silence, but—

At last, he let out a sigh.

Bolts were useless against Märchen. They simply passed through her and lodged in the wall beyond.

“……I heard from Iris.”

That a damned mage would co looking for .

Abel muttered.

“Enough.”

Get to the point.

Abel snapped coldly.

“There is information you need to share with .”

CLICK.

The sound of a bolt being loaded into the repeating crossbow.

Märchen waved her hands and smiled.

The Chancellor.

CIAR’s Chancellor.

Märchen shrugged and whispered, quiet enough that only Abel could hear.

Because unless it is , no one will be able to communicate smoothly with a Dragon.