I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple Episode 107

Episode 107

Junian asked, "Do you suspect the martial arts instructor?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"He just doesn't fit the image at all." Junian looked genuinely surprised. "If it were another Great Master, maybe. But..."

"Like who?" I prompted.

"Instructor Tanko, for example?"

This woman had no eye for people. Juan practically scread villain. So why was everyone acting so shocked, as if it were impossible?

"Fine. Instructor Juan's room is at the far end on the right side of the third floor. There aren't any communication crystals, but you might run into another instructor. If you do, just say you're running an errand for ," Junian said.

"Alright."

"And while you're at it, go to my room and bring so tobacco," she added.

That is just a regular errand now, isn't it?

I nodded and headed to Juan's room.

Fortunately, I didn't encounter any instructors along the way. The doorknob turned without resistance—the instructors' rooms didn't have locks like the hero disciples' did.

I slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind .

I'd visited the instructors' building once before the regression, during my conversation with Junian. At the ti, I hadn't had the chance to properly examine the rooms.

The room was slightly larger than ours, but it didn't feel spacious. It was more like an inn room, furnished with only the bare essentials.

I scanned my surroundings. Soone clever enough to fool even the Badnikers wouldn't leave obvious evidence lying around. Nevertheless, I knew that Juan was the priest, so maybe sothing would stand out to .

First, I examined the desk. A stack of martial arts books lay on it, their edges worn from frequent use. I picked up one and flipped through it. The pages were faded, filled with marginalia and handwritten comnts. I didn't know what Juan's handwriting looked like, but it felt like his work.

Was it all part of the act? For so reason, I didn't think so.

I set the book down and rifled through the drawers. Nothing but writing utensils, a mirror, accessories, perfus, and even costics. Whenever I saw Juan, I couldn't shake the impression that he was soone with a polished, almost slick exterior. He seed oddly interested in adornnts.

It was unexpected, yet telling.

Among the items, I found so tobacco. It looked as though he had bought it and shoved the leaves into a corner. They were a bit soft.

Then, I found a notebook, but it didn't hold much. Occasionally, Juan had jotted down class preparation notes, lesson content, and summaries of each hero disciple.

There was a summary of the thirty-nine hero disciples. Well, except for one person.

Only a single word had been written about Evan, then scratched out beyond recognition. That alone piqued my curiosity enough to check whether I was included, too.

"Hm." As far as I could rember, I had participated in the classes sincerely. Was I wrong?

In any case, I closed the notebook, feeling conflicted. If I hadn't known the truth, I wouldn't have suspected him of being a church mber. On the contrary, in many ways, he seed like a model instructor. The notebook's contents were too detailed, too ticulous to be part of an elaborate ruse.

Regardless of everything, up until he revealed his true nature, Juan had seed to perform his duties with real diligence.

Feeling oddly deflated, I tossed the notebook back into the drawer.

A soft, unusual sound ca from it.

"What's this? Could there be a hidden compartnt beneath?" I mumbled.

I knocked on the drawer, and sure enough, my suspicion was correct. I pried up the false bottom and uncovered a hidden compartnt beneath. Inside was a rare sheet of precious paper—not just any paper.

"This is..."

It was a photograph.

Caras like this existed only in Ulkah, the holy land of alchemy. These devices captured monts and people, imprinting them onto paper. Even during my rcenary days, I'd only seen one once.

Every ti I saw a photograph, I couldn't help but be amazed. Not even the empire's most gifted painter could match its realism. I'd even heard so artists had beco fascinated with the invention of the cara for that very reason. Still, that wasn't what mattered now.

The photograph showed two young n, arms slung around each other's shoulders. Between them stood a woman, beaming brightly.

I recognized one of the n imdiately—it was Carzakh, the sa man who'd been with just monts ago.

Was this from his rcenary days? His face was every bit as handso as he confidently claid, though it was crisscrossed with scars.

The man beside him exuded a gloomier air and wore the uniform of a knight. His faint scowl was hard to place at first, but after a mont, I realized it was Juan. I didn't know his exact age, but he should be around Carzakh's. This seed to be before either of them had beco Great Masters.

I hadn't known they shared any personal connection.

Wasn't Juan from a noble family? The Vasquez family, if I rembered correctly.

Why would such a nobleman be with Carzakh during his rcenary days? Was he a rcenary as well?

In my experience, a nobleman would have to fall pretty far to end up living that kind of life.

I had a lot of questions, but I pushed them aside. It was ti to leave. I'd found everything I could here, so I stepped quietly out of the room.

***

Junian wasn't in the infirmary. I left the tobacco on her desk and exited the instructors' building.

I didn't plan to rejoin the hero disciples just yet because I had sothing to check first.

The hero disciples were gathered in the clearing, and Juan was standing on the stage.

"Now that you're aware, let clarify sothing. The rule Hero Disciple Charon added states that 'points trading between hero disciples is permitted.'"

Right. It's around this ti.

This was when the point rankings were first posted and Charon's rule change was announced. That ant there was sothing I needed to verify.

I circled around the clearing, keeping out of sight, and slipped into the first floor of the hero disciples' building, where the bulletin board was located.

1st place: Charon Woodjack – 43 points

2nd place: Zeros Silver – 31 points

3rd place: Shinba – 29 points

4th place: Hans Vander – 28 points

5th place: Hector Badniker – 25 points

The top rankings matched my mory. So what was my score?

19th place: Luan Badniker – 17 points

It was one point lower than I rembered. My rank had slipped from 16th to 19th. Just a single-point difference—but apparently, many others had the sa score.

"Wahhhhhhh!"

A loud cheer erupted from outside.

I peeked through the first-floor window and spotted Carzakh.

"Hello. I am the Swordmaster, Carzakh. Due to so circumstances, I joined the training camp a bit late. I look forward to your cooperation from now on."

The hero disciples' reaction to Carzakh's introduction was explosive.

"S-Swordmaster...!"

"What... isn't he much younger than expected?"

"I don't know, but he is really handso..."

Even Hector, who was rarely perturbed, looked a bit excited.

"It is elective class ti, right? If you co to , I'll teach you how to use a sword. It's hands-on, so it won't be boring," Carzakh added.

It is the subject selection ti.

It was the perfect opportunity for Carzakh, who had just joined, to introduce himself.

As expected, the hero disciples flocked to him like moths to a fla.

He truly is the Swordmaster.

He was the most renowned of the Great Masters, and his youthful appearance certainly didn't hurt his appeal.

"Wait, hold on," Carzakh said, visibly flustered. "There are more people here than I expected..."

At a glance, more than twenty disciples had gathered—more than all the other instructors combined. Before my regression, Juan had been the one to attract the most students.

Ah. At that mont, my gaze fell on a man standing alone, his mood grim. The Martial Arts Master, who had always worn a smile until the mont of his death, now stared at Carzakh with an unreadable expression.

***

After the selection ended, Carzakh and Juan stood in the backyard, facing opposite directions.

"You look good. Hey, I don't think you've noticed, but you've put on so weight," Carzakh remarked.

Juan said nothing.

"You got a smoke on you? Just one?"

"Quit." For the first ti, Juan spoke casually. There was sothing off about his tone.

"You? Seriously?" Carzakh exclaid.

"Yes," Juan replied flatly. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to perform my duties as a Great Master. The Badnikers aren't generous enough to keep paying soone who slacks off forever—no matter how big their family is."

Juan smiled faintly. "And yet the guy who vanished for years chasing a personal grudge has the nerve to talk. I still don't get why the family head kept you in that position all this ti."

"Well, sorry about that," Carzakh said. "I'll do my best from now on. Please take care of . It's been a while since I've been to a training camp, so I'm a bit lost. Has anything changed?"

Juan didn't answer. The sarcasm vanished from his face when he spoke again. "Stop joking around, Carzakh. Haven't we known each other long enough?"

"What—"

"You heard sothing about , didn't you?" Juan interrupted.

Carzakh's breath hitched—barely perceptible, but Juan caught it.

Juan smiled bitterly. "Don't worry. It wasn't obvious."

"I don't know what you are talking about—"

"I don't know what you've heard or who told you, but at least hear my side. Let explain everything, and then you can decide."

Carzakh sighed. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"It's hard to explain everything here. And we don't have ti. et at midnight," Juan said. "A short walk west of the camp will bring you to a clearing. I'll wait for you there. Co alone."

"You think you can just say this and I'll sit here, doing nothing? I'm asking you what you an," Carzakh demanded.

Juan remained unfazed by Carzakh's distorted expression, speaking with the sa calm tone. "Barbara is dead."

"What?"

At that mont, the loud toll of a bell echoed, signaling the end of the break.

Juan looked at Carzakh's stunned face and said, "Don't forget what I said. Co alone."