My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 100

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

At word that Balanus was attacking, Kalan went rigid.
Was it metaphorical? No—it was literal.
Led by Dein, the members of Balanus had broken through the building’s walls and stormed inside.
“You bastards! Bring me Jenia!”
Cesare swung his spear with gleeful abandon. Carpets tore and vases shattered in its wake.
He looked like a rowdy drunk causing a scene. At the sight, Bella’s ears flushed crimson.
“Stop acting like a madman!”
“You should’ve said that before I started shooting!”
—Bang!
The decorations along the second-floor railing shattered under Bella’s gunfire. Arkel moved through the hail of bullets without flinching.
In moments the surroundings froze solid, and the spear descended. Unfamiliar gunshots echoed through the Mansion.
The interior descended into chaos in an instant. The Guild members rallied desperately but were being pushed back.
“What are these people? Get a situation report!”
Unarmed, panicked. Naturally, this was their first time. Inter-guild friction happened, but never brazen assaults in broad daylight.
This was the act of madmen.
‘Master, an assault in broad daylight? Has your anger robbed you of reason?’
Jenia’s departure, Kalan’s return—it all sent ripples through Dein’s heart.
But he had no intention of acting foolishly in the grip of such rage or passion.
‘Whether the assault fails or succeeds, we lose nothing. Success means we bring Jenia back.’
If it failed, they wouldn’t retrieve Jenia. But the Guild members would be left with resentment and confusion.
Resentment that the Guild had been attacked because a Hybrid Monster had joined their ranks. That resentment would become a burden for Kalan.
‘We may face punishment.’
‘Punishment, if there are no casualties, amounts to fines and damages at worst.’
‘What about the rumors?’
‘That’s hardly unfavorable. They’re Black-rank and we’re Silver Rank.’
A Black-rank defeated by five Silver Ranks? There was no greater humiliation. The attackers would become the mockery, not the attacked.
‘We might gain a poor reputation. But we’re already infamous.’
Scandal, infamy—these things already clung to Balanus like filth. Adding one more would hardly show.
‘If the rumors don’t spread, then nothing happened at all.’
Many could devise a convincing plan. Execution was something else. People recoiled from the absurd.
But in Balanus, there was no one sane—Dein included.
—Crash!
“Hah, now that’s what I’m talking about! Feels good!”
Cesare flickered in and out of sight across the room. His evasion was deft and practiced.
A Querkers Guild member grimaced and gave chase—fast enough to match Teleportation.
A dagger bit at Cesare. But he didn’t stand and fight. He simply fled, slippery as an eel.
—Screech!
The moment the Guild member tried to pursue, an ice wall rose before him. Arkel stood watching from the first floor, blood trailing from several wounds.
“Just break things. Until we find Jenia.”
“Got it. That’s why I’m not fighting back!”
Balanus couldn’t beat Black-rank. Injuries were inevitable.
But they could buy time.
—Crash!
An enormous portrait—large as a wall—fell the moment Dein swung his blade.
The sound of shattering glass drew every eye. Dein vaulted over the second-floor railing in that instant.
—A deep, thrumming sound.
Dein stopped abruptly. So did his disciples. Their bodies stiffened.
The air seemed to take form, pressing down on their shoulders. It was Bloodline Energy flowing down from above.
Kalan. Even now, he neither rushed nor wavered. He moved slowly, each step unhurried and ordinary.
“…Dein. Is this the son you left behind?”
Kalan’s hand rested on the hilt at his side. The blade emerged with pristine grace—slow, elegant, without hesitation.
“Just like you. Clinging to worthless things and turning your blade against me.”
—Whoosh!
His sword strike was invisible. The wind pressure shredded everything nearby in an instant.
Dein barely raised his blade in defense. But blood streamed down his cheek.
“Though lacking your skill.”
—Bang!
Kalan swung again—yet the sound was like a club crashing down.
The impact sent Dein flying. Kalan was already moving in for another strike when—
On the third-floor railing, Cesare descended upon Kalan. The spear’s tip drove downward in a vertical line toward his crown.
Before the sound of air being split reached his ears, Kalan’s blade rose to meet it.
Clang!
A deafening crash rang out. Blade and spear collided. As Cesare bounced back, Kalan seized him by the throat.
“Ugh…!”
His neck was caught fast. Cesare thrashed to break free, but could not slip away. He had never lost a contest of strength before. A sickening crunch echoed from his throat.
“Does Balanus know no shame?”
Pain twisted Cesare’s brow. Yet almost at once, teeth bared, he laughed.
“Isn’t it shameful for the strong to lose to the weak?”
A warning shot rang out.
In the moment Kalan faltered, Cesare drove his head forward into Kalan’s skull. The impact made him wince reflexively.
Dein seized the opening.
Steel sang through the air.
Dein, who had closed the distance in a heartbeat, swung his blade.
The blade tip aimed at Kalan’s back.
…
Kalan hurled Cesare away with all his strength—using him as a shield. Cesare crashed loudly against the wall.
Dein, unable to press deeper, retreated. Not a drop of blood fell from Kalan. Yet his expression hardened.
Only the tiniest fringe of his garment had been torn.
Several guild members watched, their eyes wide as though Kalan had suffered a grave wound.
“Being adequate enough is the privilege of the weak,” Dein said, wiping blood from his cheek.
He continued, “We intend to make full use of that brief privilege.”
The cloth was torn—nothing more. Yet for the weak, it was achievement enough.
Then a voice rang from above.
“Master, we’ve captured Jenia!”
The moment those words reached them, the light in Dein’s eyes changed. He straightened and shouted.
“Hold them off until Gai gets her clear!”
“Yes, Master!”
Arkel and Cesare desperately grabbed at the guild members’ ankles, heedless of their own bleeding.
The youths thrashed about. Though their strength was limited, it was enough to be a nuisance.
But in the end, they were only children.
Boom!
Kalan vanished from Dein’s sight—or rather, he simply could not keep pace.
Blood erupted from Dein’s arm. Kalan’s blade appeared like an afterimage. Blades descended from all directions.
Clash-clash-clash!
Barely, from the preparatory motions and the sound, he read the angles. He could only block the killing blows; what slipped through drew blood.
His hands grew numb from the impact. His entire body was drenched in red.
That was enough. He didn’t need to win. He just needed to buy Gai time to escape.
“So that’s your aim. Buying time, not victory.”
Kalan composed himself. Magic power was coalescing around him. Veins stood taut on the back of his hand.
“There’s nothing in winning for us unless it’s overwhelming victory.”
Defeat and stalemate alike are dishonor. Only victory preserves one’s honor.
“Then an absolute victory will suffice.”
Boom!
Kalan launched himself upward from the ground, which buckled beneath his feet.
He appeared on the opposite railing. As he swung his blade, the curtain tore effortlessly.
Bella stood beyond.
…
She had been changing position after each shot. But there were limits. She had not yet mapped the building’s full structure.
Bella had only three possible positions. Kalan had already identified all three.
Boom!
A fist whipped across Bella’s head. She did not even cry out before her body crumpled.
Bella fell limp, consciousness torn away. Kalan seized her arm and dragged her toward the railing.
Without hesitation, he hurled her over the edge.
“This madman…!”
Cesare threw his spear in panic. In the moment he launched himself to catch her, something drove down from above.
Boom!
Dust rose and settled. Suddenly Cesare lay pinned beneath Kalan’s feet.
Both lay motionless, unresponsive.

Arkel faltered at the sight. The breath that had been freezing and burning without pause stopped cold. The guild members seized the opening.
Crack!
Mana Spheres flew in from all directions. Arkel’s knees buckled, and spear blades drove down on both sides of his neck—so close that a single turn of his head would have meant death.
In an instant, the disciples were subdued. Dein watched from the second floor.
He had come prepared for defeat. Even in loss, there was nothing to regret. That was the plan, and his disciples had accepted the risk.
His mind understood. But his heart did not. It screamed like a madman.
Strike them down.
Clang!
Dein hurled himself at Kalan. Blade met blade. A deafening crack split the air.
It was a sword burning with fury. Until now it had been cold; now it blazed hot.
“Just like your father in that regard too.”
Kalan did not react to the emotion. As though it were beneath notice. He simply toyed with his blade, parrying without intent.
“Always so composed, yet driven mad whenever disciples were involved.”
Dein only clenched his teeth. The weak had no luxury of words.
“In the end, those brats got him killed…….”
Slash!
Kalan’s words ceased. A thin line opened across his throat.
Dein’s blade had found him, shallow but true. The quality of his movement had shifted unmistakably.
From Dein flowed Crimson Magic Power—and with it, emotions of that same scarlet hue.
In the midst of rage and hatred, Dein steadied his stance.
Crimson Magic Power. The High Priest had said it was most effective against those of evil intent.
The definition of evil was surely manifold. But for Dein, there was only one evil.
That which would harm his disciples.
That was evil.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————