My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 26

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chezare has been arrested?
I hurried toward the Security Office, with Jenia following close behind, her face registering the same disbelief as mine.
“A theft? That’s unexpected of him.”
“It can’t be. Chezare would sooner rob someone outright than sneak around stealing—that’s not his nature at all.”
“Exactly. If it were him, he’d beat someone senseless before he’d ever resort to theft.”
Whether Chezare’s reputation worked in his favor or against him, I couldn’t say—but the moment we approached the Security Office, a loud voice erupted from the entrance.
“Damn it all! I didn’t steal anything! Are you locking me up based on some mad old man’s word? When I get out of here, I’ll tear this place apart!”
There it was. That was Chezare—even in custody, that mouth of his made my head spin.
I stepped inside the Security Office and immediately saw a cage made of iron bars.
Chezare was trapped inside. The moment my disciple spotted me, having been thrashing against the bars like he meant to break them, his face lit up.
“Master! Help me! I’ve been framed and locked up in here, and nobody believes a word I say!”
Indignation was written all over his face. When I approached the security officer, he gave me a sideways look.
“What brings you here?”
“I’m acquainted with the man detained here. What exactly happened?”
“He’s been reported for theft. Allegedly he stole something from Zik’s Smithy.”
At that, Chezare burst out again.
“I didn’t steal anything! I was just playing around with the old man, and then suddenly he snapped to and started asking who I was—then he went and reported me as a thief!”
So he’d come to his senses. That meant Zik would see Chezare as a stranger, which made the suspicion understandable. I turned to the officer.
“We’re guests of Zik’s. If you speak with Radi and Garwen, they can vouch for us. Jenia, go fetch them.”
“Yes, Master.”
Jenia dashed off. I approached Chezare at the bars and asked, “There’s been a misunderstanding. It should clear up soon. What exactly happened?”

“The old man was fussing because he wanted candy. But Radi and Garwen weren’t around, so……”
Whether from humiliation or frustration, Chezare’s eyes glistened.
“He said there was candy in Garwen’s room and asked me to find it. He kept whining about it, so I went in. Then he suddenly accused me of rummaging through someone else’s house and reported me!”
Chezare grumbled as he spoke.
“Those bastards at the Security Office. And they believed the old man’s word even after he’d lost his mind again? This is so unfair I could die!”
In my estimation, the real problem was probably the obscenities he’d hurled at the officers and his threats to kill them, but……
Just then, Jenia arrived with Radi in tow. He looked utterly bewildered.
“You’re Dein? How did Chezare end up in those bars?”
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding on your father’s part.”
I explained the situation, and Radi clarified to the officer that Chezare was our guest and that his father had simply misunderstood.
“Since you vouch for him, we’ll release him.”
I dragged a grumbling Chezare out of the Security Office. Though he was finally free, an uneasy feeling settled over me.
“Radi, is your father at home?”
“No, he wasn’t there when I got back. Garwen went out to search for him, but……”
I’d never once seen Garwen give Zik candy. Yet Zik had claimed it was in his room.
We returned to the Smithy and examined the interior. Nothing seemed greatly changed, but on the table lay a small pile of purple powder. I leaned in and smelled it lightly.
“There’s Sleeping Potion here. I suspect someone may have drugged Zik and abducted him.”
My disciples’ eyes widened in alarm. Jenia studied the powder more closely and asked, “Where would they have taken him?”

“I’m not sure. But I suspect Chezare knows.”
At that, Chezare laughed.
“I slipped a Magic Stone into the old man’s pocket. It’s not far—I should be able to take us there.”
The moment he finished speaking, Chezare scooped Jenia and me up under his arms. Was this really necessary?
“If I stumble after teleporting, help me up. Moving multiple people takes it out of me.”
“You’re weak, brother.”
“Yeah, I’m weak, so protect me. Let’s go. Just as long as it’s not a mass grave.”
The scenery shifted in an instant. The air changed. It was dark, and the smell of earth filled my nostrils.
An Abandoned Mine. In a narrow Mine Shaft just beside it, Zik lay unconscious.
I checked his condition—he’d lost consciousness but was still alive. Chezare sighed in relief.
“Thank goodness he’s not dead. Let’s get him out of here quickly.”
“Agreed. Though it may take a moment.”
After saying so, I turned to look behind us. For a while now, I’d sensed a faint presence. A figure emerged from the darkness.
“How did you know to come here?”
It was Garwen. The gaze he fixed upon us was unusually cold. Chezare glared at him and asked, “Was it you? Did you poison the old man?”

“What if I did?”
“You poisoned your master? You ungrateful bastard!”
“Even a master must prove worthy of the title.”
Garwen held a sword. Caught in the Magic Lantern’s glow, the blade gleamed dully through the darkness.
His eyes burned the same way—deep resentment and fury swirling with something unhinged.
“Why did you try to kill him? What could he possibly have done wrong?”
“He looked down on me.”
Garwen’s voice turned cold as he continued.
“I’ve worked under him for over ten years. And still he called my blades shoddy, wouldn’t even let me sell them.”
He raised the sword—not to strike, but to show it to us.
“Then one day, a customer bought my blade. Thinking it was one of Zik’s.”
He muttered like a madman, his eyes already glazed with something like possession.
“After that, I sold my swords several more times. No one noticed. That means my skill is exactly equal to Zik’s, doesn’t it?”
……
“But someday, Zik will find out I’ve been selling counterfeits. So…….”
He didn’t finish. We didn’t need him to. The reason Garwen poisoned Zik was perfectly clear.
Chezare’s expression turned incredulous.
“You tried to kill your own master…… over that?”
Garwen didn’t answer. Instead, armed figures began emerging from the darkness one by one.
Mercenaries? Thugs? All of them carried swords similar in form to Garwen’s own.
“Did you forge those blades too?”
“That’s right. Masterpieces of mine, no different from Zik’s.”
Six swords gleamed brilliantly. Garwen looked utterly pleased with himself, drunk on pride in his own craftsmanship.
It was pathetic.
The lantern’s flame wavered uncertainly. The sputtering light dimmed and died, plunging the mine into complete darkness.
—Clang!
Six times, sparks and the ring of steel burst through the black. Like a signal, light flooded back into the Magic Lantern.
I sheathed my sword.
In the next instant, the blades in their hands shattered with a sharp, discordant cry. Garwen’s face went pale.
“W-why did they break? Surely not……?”
Garwen stared at me. More precisely, at my sword.
“Zik’s blade doesn’t shatter from a mere strike like that. It would’ve held even against my full force.”
What I wield is nothing but scrap metal—a crude, worthless blade. Yet even that inferior thing shattered Garwen’s swords. And he dared invoke Zik’s name.
I know well how durable, how supple, how strong Zik’s blade is. The form may resemble mine, but they are worlds apart.
Fragments of broken steel reflected in Garwen’s face like a mirror. I met his gaze squarely and spoke.
“Zik should have taught you: swallow the past to forge your present.”
That was Zik’s philosophy—of weapons, of life itself.
Garwen’s sword was neither past nor present nor future. Only form, hollow within. A piece of metal empty of conviction, empty of skill, empty of everything.
“Your blade is a stillborn thing that became nothing.”
Garwen’s face drained of color, then flushed crimson with rage. He drew a dagger with a shout.
“Don’t mock me! I’ll bury you and everyone with you in this mine…….”
—Thud, thud
Then strange, heavy footfalls echoed through the passages. Something came flying from behind the mercenaries.
—Crash!
A thick, terrible impact, and the mercenaries screamed. As the lantern’s light reached it, the source of the sound became unmistakable.
Before us towered a figure of earth nearly two and a half meters tall. Jenia’s eyes widened with excitement.
“Master, is that a Clayborn?”
“It is.”
The Clayborn was brutally pummeling the mercenaries, paying us no mind—yet. That wouldn’t last long. Chezare hefted his spear.
“Didn’t you say you’d already captured all the Clayborn?”
“I thought I had. Seems a new Source has emerged somewhere.”
A Clayborn itself isn’t greatly feared. My disciples could dispatch one with ease. The problem, however…….
Footfalls echoed without cease from the right mine shaft. At least twenty Clayborn, from the sound of it.
My disciples’ eyes blazed with fighting spirit, ready to charge forward at any moment. I shouted.
“Don’t engage them—fall back! Run!”
My bewildered disciples followed me into flight. The Clayborn lumbered after us with thunderous steps. Jenia, clutching Zik, called out as we ran.
“Master, why are we retreating?”
“If we fight here, dead Clayborn will block the passage and trap us inside.”
I glanced at Chezare.
“You still don’t have enough Mana?”
“Not yet. I might manage a solo escape, but nothing more.”
“You won’t be escaping alone.”
The footsteps of the Clayborn grew louder and more distinct as we raced through the mine shaft, until the rail bed beneath us reached a section where the tracks simply ended.
I veered left without hesitation, then took a right at the next junction, leaping over a sign that read “No Entry.”
“Stop!”
I threw my weight backward, skidding to a halt so abruptly that my boots gouged deep furrows in the stone. Chezare stopped with equal grace beside me, his voice sharp with alarm.
“What is this? The track just… ends?”
The rails terminated mid-passage, beyond which stretched an abyss of absolute darkness. I reached for a Magic Lantern hanging on the wall and fed it Mana, speaking as the light bloomed.
“Don’t go beyond this point under any circumstances. Part of the mine collapsed—there’s a void on the other side.”
“Ah? Understood. But why are we here?”
“When the Clayborn arrive, dispatch them and throw the bodies into that chasm.”
In this cramped mine, keeping Clayborn corpses from piling up was critical. But that alone wouldn’t solve our problem.
“Hold this position as long as you can. I’ll find the Source and destroy it.”
I plunged into the darkness ahead. My disciples were skilled enough to fight, but oxygen was scarce in these depths—they would tire quickly.
I had to destroy the Source as fast as possible. I fixed my attention on the Mana flowing from it.
The presence of the Clayborn muddied the Mana currents throughout the mine. Yet beneath that chaos, I sensed a distinct thread of power—the same resonance I had felt before.
I followed that thread at full speed through the darkness. Ahead, a vein of light flickered through the gloom, as if the very stone itself were luminous.
Black light filtered between the earthen walls—a mineral that gleamed like onyx. The Source.
I drove my blade downward into it. The sound rang out like glass shattering, like a jewel cracking under pressure.
And in that same instant, black light erupted, cascading down upon me. A torrent of raw Mana poured into my body.
A second stroke being carved into my bones. As I crossed into the second tier, my Mana Circuit blazed to life.

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