I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple Episode 76

Episode 76

I stepped into the cabin and surveyed the cramped space. The interior was barren, devoid of any furniture. A narrow chimney and a disheveled fireplace stood against one wall. Though there was nowhere to hide, I activated my fire-enhanced vision to scan the area once more. Nothing seed out of place.

Before examining the body further, I called out to the rest of the group. The distant mbers approached the cabin, their footsteps hesitant.

"Ugh... The sll of blood," Charles muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"This is..." Mir trailed off, her voice trembling.

"Pam?" Evan exclaid.

They now stood face-to-face with Pam's lifeless body.

"She hasn't been dead long. I saw her alive and well this morning, so it's reasonable to assu..."

"She's dead?" Evan asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

"Yes," I replied.

"No way... Is this a lie? P-Pam died—"

"Shut up, Evan," I warned in a low voice, causing him to flinch. "Didn't you expect this? Did you think the Badnikers' training camp was a picnic? The instructors warned us from the start. It wouldn't be surprising if any of the hero disciples died."

"That may be true, but..." Evan's voice broke as he struggled to finish his sentence.

I sighed. Although I had spoken harshly, I understood Evan's feelings. However, panic in a situation like this could spread quickly. Evan's stress seed to be reaching its limit, but there was no ti to offer him comfort.

"Mir, can you check the surroundings again to see if anyone is coming?" I asked.

"Yes. I understand," she replied.

Mir appeared to be the most composed among us. Whether it was due to her upbringing or her stature as a giant, she showed no reaction to the sight of blood.

anwhile, I turned my attention to Pam's corpse. Dried tear streaks marked Pam's face, evidence of the extre fear she had felt before her death.

She didn't resist at all, I noted.

Despite her appearance, Pam was a hero disciple. She had volunteered for the Badnikers' training camp, demonstrating her courage. Yet, she had died in a state of panic, unable to put up a fight. Sothing about this felt deeply unsettling.

The more I examined her corpse, the more that feeling took shape.

"Hey, do you really think you'll find sothing by poking around like that?" Charles asked.

"At the very least, it's not the work of a monster," I replied.

My words caused the others to tense.

"It can't be. Didn't you say it before? It's against the rules to attack each other. Can't the instructors intervene at any ti?" Charles asked.

"That doesn't an it's impossible to kill. It's an extre example, but soone could kill at the risk of punishnt," I replied.

Charles glanced at Pam's body. "What makes you think it was murder?"

I hadn't explicitly called it murder, but the circumstances suggested it was more likely the work of a human than a monster. Still, sothing felt off.

"It's too clean to be the work of a monster," I explained.

If a demonic monster had killed Pam, her corpse would have been far more grueso—reduced to little more than scattered remains.

The next question was: Who did it?

If it were a hero disciple, the first na that ca to mind was Charon. He was the type to stop at nothing to secure first place.

Would he go so far as to harm Pam?

It was too early to say. We still lacked enough information.

"Evan, do you rember who was in the sa group as Pam?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Tell ."

"Tenma Galgar, Basil Jules, and..." Evan hesitated, glancing at before continuing, "Hector Badniker."

***

Around ten hours after entering the Butterfly Forest, Hector started to feel uneasy.

There are too few monsters, he thought.

He was intimately familiar with the Butterfly Forest—not just its terrain and traits but also the types and numbers of monsters that lived within it. His maternal family had provided him with that information.

Thanks to their insights, Hector even knew that one of the special exams during the training camp would take place in this very forest.

The instructors' surveillance area extends about fifteen kiloters from the camp, he recalled.

In truth, it would be nearly impossible for the hero disciples to venture beyond this range.

The barrier surrounding the training camp, crafted by none other than Archmage Assad, ensured that anyone attempting to leave would inevitably be drawn back inside. No matter how exceptional their blessings, the hero disciples stood no chance of escaping, even if they were to die and be resurrected.

"I hope the others are doing alright," muttered Basil Jules, a dwarf hero disciple roughly the sa age as Hector but already sporting a full beard.

"It's just catching butterflies. They'll be fine," Hector replied. "It's more gathering than hunting."

Hector's target for this test was no ordinary butterfly. It was the Scarletfly, a rare and elusive creature within the Butterfly Forest. What set it apart from other butterflies was its blood-red luminescence. Additionally, its excrent was a prized material in both arcane studies and alchemy. Its stunning appearance also made it highly sought after by collectors, fetching exorbitant prices.

The real challenge is finding it, Hector mused.

Locating a Scarletfly in the vast, shadowy expanse of the forest was no small feat. Fortunately, Hector had a crucial piece of information. The Scarletfly's glow intensified at sunset, becoming visible from a distance.

However, this radiant display lasted less than ten minutes. As a result, Hector and his group had spent most of their ti after entering the forest scouting areas with the highest concentration of butterflies.

When sunset finally arrived, they spotted a Scarletfly, but sothing unexpected happened. Two glowing areas appeared simultaneously.

If they rushed to one and missed the other, they would have to wait until the next day. To maximize their chances, Hector had split the group into two teams, each tasked with tracking one of the glows.

"I told them not to venture too deep, so it shouldn't be a problem," Hector assured Basil.

"That would be great," Basil replied, his voice tinged with concern.

Basil was a hero disciple who defied many of Hector's preconceived notions about dwarves. Unlike the boisterous and often rude deanor of other hero disciples, Basil was calm, composed, and spoke to everyone with respect. His only flaw, if it could be called that, was his tendency to worry excessively.

Hector turned his attention away from the fretful dwarf and smiled as he thought about the Scarletfly now in his possession.

Nothing in this forest is more valuable than the Scarletfly, he thought triumphantly.

With this, he could outshine even the arrogant Charon, Seren, and Luan.

Luan... Hector's heart swelled with pride as he recalled his youngest brother's face.

Initially, he had dismissed Luan's abilities as re coincidence or luck, but no longer. He now fully acknowledged his brother's talent.

At this training camp, he was determined to defeat Luan decisively and prove his superiority. Yet he couldn't shake a sense of regret. For so reason, Luan didn't seem to be taking the camp seriously. That frustrated Hector, especially after witnessing his brother's true power.

As for Charon? Hector had to admit the man was exceptional.

If Hector had encountered Charon before all his previous experiences, he would have felt inferior. However, he had already faced a far worse monster. It was soone who wouldn't even spare a glance at those considered the best among the hero disciples.

Why isn't he showing his true skills? Hector wondered.

If Luan had chosen to display his abilities, Charon would never have claid the top spot.

At that mont, Basil's voice broke the silence, stiff and uneasy. "Hector."

Hector slowly opened his eyes. "I know."

He could sense a presence beyond the bushes. From the feel of it, it definitely wasn't Pam or Tenma.

Hector drew his sword.

Monsters erged from the underbrush. These creatures resembled wolves with three eyes and unnaturally sharp teeth.

Hector's expression hardened montarily, but he swiftly swung his sword. The wolf fell, black blood spraying from the wound.

It's stronger than I expected. His sword would have lodged in the creature's muscles or joints without infusing it with mana.

"A-as expected! This is the swordsmanship of Hector, the genius of the Badniker family!" Basil exclaid, his voice tinged with awe.

Hector ignored the praise and narrowed his eyes, thinking, Wolves?

He knew wolves inhabited the Butterfly Forest, but these strange, monstrous variants were unfamiliar. Of course, no matter how thorough his maternal family's intel was, they couldn't possibly account for everything in this place.

"Is that the famous Afterimage Sword—"

"Basil," Hector interrupted sharply, "draw your weapon."

"What?"

"There are more coming."

As if on cue, the ground trembled faintly.

Even with his dull senses, Basil felt it, too. His face went pale. "H-how many are there—"

There were at least a few dozen, but Hector kept the number to himself, knowing it would only terrify Basil further.

Basil isn't a fighter.

It wasn't that he couldn't fight at all, but in battle, he was dead weight. Hector would have to face the pack alone.

It won't be easy.

A life-or-death struggle had erupted without warning.

"Follow !" Hector commanded.

"Y-yes!"

As they raced through the forest, Hector's mind churned. Wolf-like monsters were one thing, but why would so many attack two hero disciples?

Suddenly, a wolf dropped from above, as if falling from the trees.

Hector gritted his teeth and slashed.

"H-Hector!"

"Keep running!"

Hector couldn't keep running. In the forest, there was no way he could outpace a four-legged beast.

He scanned his surroundings until he found a suitable spot—a tangle of large tree roots that made movent difficult but would prevent him from being surrounded.

The drawback is that there's nowhere to run.

The corners of Hector's mouth curled into a grimace. Either way, he'd die if he didn't kill them all.

"Basil, I can't afford to protect you anymore. You'll have to survive on your own," Hector said.

"I-I understand."

The only help Hector could offer was positioning himself between Basil and the approaching enemy.

Fortunately, Basil didn't panic and followed his lead.

Just then, a howling pack of wolves surged forward.

***

How many enemies had Hector killed?

He couldn't tell whether the dampness clinging to his body was blood or sweat.

What about Basil? He glanced to the side. Basil was still alive but in bad shape.

Hector let out a heavy sigh. He wanted to collapse, but the battle wasn't over. The wolves stood at a distance, eerily still, their eyes fixed on him.

Thanks to this, I've bought myself so ti to rest. But what are they waiting for?

At that mont, a voice rang out from above. "Hector Badniker, you seem to be in quite the predicant."

Hector looked up to see an annoyingly familiar face perched on a branch. "Charon Woodjack."

Charon nodded. "Do you still have the energy to speak?"

Hector's expression hardened. Charon's sudden appearance sparked a ridiculous suspicion in his mind.

"Are you controlling these wolves?" he asked bluntly.

"Who knows?" Charon smirked. "But I can change your situation."

"What do you an?"

Charon rested his chin on his hand and said, "Let's make a deal, Hector. Give all the points you have, and I'll save you."