My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 46

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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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Arkel gripped his hand more tightly, the way he had as a child. He squeezed with all his strength so that he wouldn’t let go.
“Cesare, take Jenia to Master. Go.”
With his abilities, he could easily flee with Jenia in tow. Cesare, soaked in blood, pulled her into a tight embrace.
His expression was badly contorted. Whether from pain or something else, Arkel couldn’t tell.
“Don’t talk like a lunatic. Not alone again……!”
“Go to Master and get help! That gives us a better chance of surviving!”
A lie. How long would it take Master to reach here? Could he hold on alone for even a minute?
He’d almost certainly die. But it didn’t matter.
Cesare’s eyes wavered. In that moment of hesitation, Jenia—who had been barely breathing—pushed him away and struggled to her feet.
“Hey, you stay down. Your tentacles are all severed anyway.”
“We’re all going together. We’re coming back with my brother.”
Cesare didn’t argue against Jenia’s stubborn complaint. He simply gripped his spear and rose to his feet without a word.
Dein tried to draw his blade, but Arkel wouldn’t release his grip. His master’s eyes narrowed.
“A shame. You were a disciple I cherished.”
Dein began pulling his blade upward, as if to split him cleanly in two. Just as Arkel’s trembling hand was losing its grip—
Crash!
The door to the side burst open with a deafening bang, sending up a cloud of dust. Through it, a flash of light seemed to pierce through.
A golden flash.
Clang!
The sharp metallic ring echoed through the chamber. Two figures were clashing blades—two versions of Dein.
Horror reflected in Dein’s eyes. His disciples covered in blood. Tentacles scattered across the floor. His golden gaze blazed with killing intent.
“You’re late. A true master should have arrived faster.”
The Doppelgänger’s voice dripped with mockery. Their strength was evenly matched, after all—it had been duplicated from him.
Yet the Doppelgänger’s wrist was twisting. The pressure radiating from Dein was suffocating.
One radiated panic; the other, a fury that would burn everything to ash.
If both had depleted mana and matched physical ability, victory could only come down to will.
Memories could be copied, but not emotions. A blade-sharp voice cut through the air.
“No one harms my disciples. Not even myself.”
Slice!
The Doppelgänger’s head flew from its shoulders. Blood spray erupted from the severed neck, then black liquid poured forth. Its body crumpled to the ground.
Just as Arkel was about to collapse as well, his master caught him. He saw his master’s face, hideously twisted and distorted.
Had his master ever worn such an expression? As Arkel stared up blankly, Dein hastily produced a Healing Potion.
“Cesare, Jenia. Are you alright? How are you holding up?”
“We’ll make it. Jenia—are you okay?”
“Yeah. Brother, are you alright?”
Jenia coughed and caught her breath. Flesh was slowly filling in where her tentacles had been severed. Cesare was pressing down on his own wounds to stem the bleeding.
“There’s significant blood loss, but you’ve avoided the vital points. We need to get out and find the Healer quickly.”
Arkel stared blankly at those words. He should have apologized, but nothing came out.
With the Doppelgänger dead, the front door swung open. They made their way out, supporting Arkel between them.
A river wind blew past. The marshy Dungeon entrance slowly began to fade.
People spilled out as if being expelled from within. They were the ones who had fallen victim to Jenia’s Doppelgänger.
“We… we’re alive!”
“Is everyone’s injuries…….”
Then Dein seized a man by the collar and dragged him forward. His voice was ice-cold.
“You’re a Healer, aren’t you? This one’s wounded. Treat them.”
“My mana’s already depleted……. Gah!”
Without a word, Dein shoved a Mana Recovery Potion into the Healer’s mouth. The empty bottle clattered to the ground.
“Still not enough?”
His eyes glinted coldly. Pressure bore down. The Healer groaned, then finally released his Restoration Magic.
The wounds that had been barely stemmed began to mend. The faintest color of life returned to his disciples’ faces.
Having pulled back from death’s threshold, the disciples slumped to the ground as if completely wrung out. Cesare made a weak attempt at a joke.
“Man, I really thought we were done for. If it weren’t for the three of us like Master said, we’d be dead.”
He wiped the blood from his face roughly. Jenia fingered the torn edges of her clothing.
Everyone fell silent. As the heavy atmosphere lingered, Cesare spoke with a petulant tone.
“Master, why were you so late? We thought we were gonna die.”
“You three had more stamina than I expected. That’s why it took a while.”
Black blood was splattered all over Dein’s clothes. Cesare let out a quiet laugh and looked at Arkel.
“See? I told you Master was testing us, right?”
When Dein didn’t deny it, Arkel’s eyes wavered. Had I really misunderstood Master all this time?
At some point, Jenia had settled beside Dein and asked him a question.
“Who lasted the longest?”
“Cesare and Arkel were about evenly matched.”
“So I’m the weakest.”
“No. I didn’t want to hit you as hard, so you went down quickly.”
Life flowed back into their bodies, and the atmosphere began to ease by degrees. Only Arkel remained apart. As they chatted among themselves, Jenia glanced over at him.
“By the way—you buried something here, didn’t you? Let me dig it up. Just tell me where.”
“Never mind.”
He swayed to his feet. To the place where the Mana Vein flowed strongest—beneath the great oak tree.
As he began to excavate the earth with his Ice Dagger, a small Iron Box soon emerged.
The box opened. Arkel withdrew an acorn-shaped pendant—the kind that the members of Balanusus had divided among themselves.
He hung it around his neck without a word, then drew out a piece of paper. Jenia, who had come to look over his shoulder, went wide-eyed as a squirrel.
“That’s us, isn’t it?”
Within the paper were the disciples of Balanusus rendered in charcoal—their young faces exactly as they had been fifteen years ago.
Disciples lined up like acorns in a row. Cesare had drifted over at some point. His voice came through, somewhat subdued.
“You said it was useless?”
“I did.”
“Then why didn’t you throw it away long ago?”
“I tried to. But……”
As a Life Prisoner, there was no chance he would ever reclaim either the pendant or the drawing. It wouldn’t have mattered to discard them.
“……Even though it doesn’t matter to me, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.”
He had tried to burn it several times. The marks of those attempts remained as scorch marks along the paper’s edges.
Jenia said nothing, only watching. Then, carefully, she took the paper from him. When she unfolded the hidden corner, Arkel’s image came into view.
Arkel’s face had been burned away.
“Why did you burn only your face?”
“In case someone found this and discovered that I’m your family. I couldn’t let that shame fall on you.”
A serial killer for a brother. He couldn’t inflict such dishonor upon his siblings.
So he had burned it. So he had cut it away. Cesare and Jenia both fell silent. He turned to his siblings and asked them:
“Why didn’t you run away earlier? You had every reason to—you even resented me.”
“I like you.”
“Is it because I’m the Master’s disciple? Or is it guilt over my imprisonment?”
He could think of no other reason why they would care for him. Jenia gripped his hand tightly.
“It’s not because of any of that. I like you because you’re you. I like Arkel.”
He studied her hand quietly. That small hand had grown considerably. Cesare, who had been staring at the ground, spoke at last:
“Honestly, you’re insufferable. You frustrate me and make my blood boil plenty of times. That doesn’t mean I dislike you.”
“Even if I don’t care for you at all?”
“Even then.”
“……You’re strange people.”
He couldn’t understand it. Despite the wounded expressions they bore each time he hurt them. Cesare grinned, showing his teeth.
“Didn’t you know? We’ve always been strange. Being strange is part of what makes us Balanusus.”
A gentle breeze stirred. The scent of flowers drifted from somewhere, and the smell of wild raspberries too.
He folded the paper neatly and slipped it into his pocket. Arkel came to Dein’s side.
“I’ve rested enough. Shall we head back?”
“Yes. You’ve done well.”
Dein patted Arkel’s back once. Arkel, who had turned away from his siblings, glanced back over his shoulder.
“Let’s go home.”
A moment of silence fell. Both Jenia and Cesare were taken aback. Arkel looked at them, unblinking.
Then he sighed quietly and draped his outer coat over Jenia’s shoulders. Her clothes were torn in several places.
“When we get back, I’ll teach Cesare some decorum and Jenia some proper etiquette.”
Jenia, who had been fingering the coat, looked up at Arkel. Her voice emerged, as it always did:
“Do you really have to? Can’t you just accept us as we are?”
“I don’t want to.”
At his refusal, Jenia merely pouted her lip slightly. Cesare spoke with a mischievous tone:
“Jenia, cut him some slack. His words say one thing, but his heart says another, I’m sure. Let’s indulge him a little.”
“Okay, I get it.”
Arkel looked at them both as though they were beyond help. Then, as if they weren’t worth his time, he began to walk on alone.
“Oh, he’s embarrassed.”
“Is he out of his mind?”
Watching this unfold, Dein laughed silently. Arkel still doesn’t love his siblings. They still bicker. Yet now it seemed as if things might be all right.
Just as a pleasant breeze was blowing, Dein stopped short and turned around. Jenia asked:
“Master, why do you look like that?”
“…No, it’s nothing.”
Dein felt a faint gaze from behind. The attackers from fifteen years ago flashed reflexively through his mind. Could it be them? He sensed no hostility, yet…
An odd unease crept over him. But the moment he looked at his disciples, the feeling faded.
They walked past the riverbank. Their reflections rippled across the water—just as they had fifteen years before. Sunlight touched the river and blazed with brilliance.
9. Prophetic Murder
Acorns lay scattered between fallen leaves. The evergreen oak that bore fruit throughout all seasons was a signature sight of Aspenheim.
Jenia bent to gather acorns with her tentacles when she caught sight of Arkel.
“Can you really make bread from acorn flour?”
“Of course. It saves considerably on food expenses.”
Arkel spoke with a basket tucked under his arm. Frugality ran so deep in his bones.
A week had passed since they’d returned from the Labyrinth. In that time, his disciples seemed to have grown easier with one another.
“Come on, you cheapskate! We’re not squirrels—why are we gathering acorns?”
Though perhaps they hadn’t.
Cesare, bent over his acorn-gathering, was grumbling. He’d seemed strained from the start—handling acorns with those pot-lid hands of his was plainly awkward, and he had tremors too.
After fumbling about, scratching at acorns more than collecting them, Cesare finally erupted.
“Why don’t we just buy food like normal people? What are you saving all that money for anyway?”
“I need to raise a billion for the information broker’s commission.”
Cesare, who’d been fuming, went rigid. Arkel looked back from his acorn-gathering.
“Don’t you want to find Bella and Hayden too?”

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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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