My Disciples Became Scoundrels - Chapter 57

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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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He hadn’t expected the blow. Seeing that look on his face made my anger flare even hotter, though I bit it back.
“But I’ve brought in a lot of money…….”
“Give you more money and you’d sell your arms and legs too.”
“One hundred million Batz isn’t enough.”
—Bang!!!
“One hundred million Batz isn’t?”
I landed another blow. I’d meant to preserve his dignity, but it seemed pointless now.
Arkel had a bad habit: selling his life, his suffering, for pennies.
He’d agreed to spend his whole life as a prisoner for ten billion Batz, and now he still sells himself for a hundred million.
I stared at Arkel, barely protecting his own head, then withdrew my fist.
“Then I’ll do the same. Anyone offers good money, I’ll cut off an arm—so don’t complain.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
“You can do it, but I can’t?”
“……I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Only then did urgency creep into Arkel’s voice. Was this the only way to make him listen?
Jenia, reading the tension, quietly slipped between Arkel and me—as if protecting her brother.
“Big brother worked hard to earn that money. Give him some praise?”
“If I praise him, he’ll do something stupid again. Not happening.”
He only listens after hardship and scolding. His sister consoling him while I disciplined him. Jenia patted Arkel’s drooping shoulders.
“Big brother, you worked so hard for that money. But is torturing a defenseless opponent really your hobby?”
“…….”
“How do you even do it?”
Arkel still looked miserable. A sigh escaped me unbidden, and Cesare watched me with an expression of complete understanding.
“I wanted to hit him too, but you beat me to it. Next time, let’s take turns.”
Even my younger brother wanted to strike him. He makes money and gets beaten—that’s a talent. Cesare glanced toward the arena.
“But looking at how he won despite those restrictions, the championship shouldn’t be a problem?”
“True. Though Bracket One is nagging at me.”
“I’d love to watch that match directly, but they say Bracket One’s already completely sold out……. Damn. Should I ask around separately?”
“You and Arkel focus on your matches. Jenia and I will handle the rest.”
With Jenia helping—the best at intelligence gathering among us—there shouldn’t be any major problems.
Throughout all this, Arkel remained downcast even as he received Jenia’s comfort. I gave my inadequate disciple a light slap on the back.
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
“……Yes, Master.”
Even grown up, he still doesn’t read the room.
I knew he’d meant well, which only made my mood worse.
Now, while my disciples fight, I need to move quickly too. To keep them from getting hurt anymore.
And to prepare my counterattack against the dog master.
* * *
Among the Dog Fighting Arena’s guests, VIPs were given private lounges. Lavish, ornate rooms.
A Noble Woman spoke with visible irritation.
“Ugh, Bracket Five actually lost. I placed a pretty big bet and it was a complete waste.”
“I told you to bet on Bracket One. Then at least you wouldn’t have lost money.”
“Bracket One’s odds are terrible—where’s the fun in that?”
A middle-aged noble couple were bickering when the man heaved a deep sigh.
“Cesare’s one thing, but where did Bracket Thirteen come from? The way he fights, he looks like some kind of criminal.”
“Well, that’s all the better. Bracket One is particularly harsh on criminals, isn’t he?”
The woman laughed, concealing her mouth with her fan. Hearing that, the man’s expression softened a little.
“True. Bracket One’s a funny one. A Holy Knight came to the Dog Fighting Arena of his own accord to punish evil.”
“That murderer back then left as a corpse, didn’t he?”
The two began sharing memories of past matches, clinking glasses together. As their trivial chat continued, the watching gaze from the ceiling gap vanished.
A pink slime was oozing through the gap, creeping across it before slipping down into the room through the narrow space.
Moments later, rough voices echoed through the room.
“No way, I’m going! You’ll just make a scene again!”
“Your language is crude. My odds are higher than yours, so it’s logical that I should compete……. Jenia.”
The slime had already transformed into a human shape. Jenia looked between the two of them before asking.
“What are you arguing about now? And go where?”
“The Finals.”
Cesare clicked his tongue.
“He and I were supposed to be in different brackets, but suddenly the bracket changed.”
Arkel held out the paper he had been carrying. Jenia stared at it, then read aloud slowly and deliberately.
“Both sides forfeited, so numbers 13 and 14 will proceed to the semifinals?”
Arkel’s opponent and Cesare’s opponent had both withdrawn from the match. Cesare let out a hollow laugh.
“The dog pit master must’ve had a hand in this. Trying to knock one of us out. Looks like he got scared.”
“Then it makes sense for the older brother to go. The odds are better.”
“If I send him out, the healing costs will just pile up.”
A moment later, the door opened and Dein entered. He swept his gaze across Arkel and Cesare once, then approached Jenia.
“Jenia, you’re back. Everything go smoothly?”
“Yes. Today, what I learned about number one was…….”
Jenia began chattering away. The information she had gathered over these past two days was quite substantial.
Number one, the man called the Champion. Born of a noble bloodline, a former Holy Knight with an extreme hatred of the wicked…….
Cesare glanced sideways at Arkel.
“If he hates the wicked, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go?”
“Were you ever virtuous?”
Cesare flinched. Then, with a slightly sullen expression, he grumbled.
“Yeah, fine. I’m a brute. Satisfied?”
Dein watched the two of them bicker in silence. That quieted them down.
Cesare shifted the subject awkwardly.
“Ugh, it’d be nice to watch the actual match. Not knowing how he fights is frustrating. Is there any other information?”
At those words, Jenia’s expression fell a little. She tapped the floor absently with her heel.
“I tried to go to number one’s room to confirm, but when I got close, bloodlust was pouring out so thickly…….”
Jenia’s shoulders trembled. The light in her eyes dimmed.
“I knew I had to go, but I couldn’t…….”
Jenia had not been afraid even before Gai’nak. Yet now she had shrunken back entirely.
Dein wrapped his arms around Jenia.
“You did well. If you didn’t want to go, you didn’t have to.”
As he patted her back, her expression finally eased. Cesare rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
“No, I wasn’t saying anything to you……. By the way, Master, what are you holding?”
At those words, Jenia also looked toward Dein’s hands. He lifted a single sheet of paper. On it was drawn a portrait of someone.
“A portrait of number one. I bought it from a staff member. Paid a fair price for it, though.”
Number one was a young man with a cheerful, open-minded impression. The kind of face you’d call refreshingly honest.
“So that’s what he looks like without the helmet!”
“Looks a bit too pretty, doesn’t he?”
Arkel also looked at it with interest. He kept his gaze fixed on it as if committing the face to memory.
“Since I didn’t know his face, it was difficult to follow number one’s movements. This is fortunate. I’ll look into it.”
“You and Cesare rest. I’ll go myself.”
His disciples were working hard, and he wanted to do at least this himself. He also wanted to learn the true identity of that Holy Knight with his own eyes.
Dein pulled the hood of his robe over his head and set out alone. Once again, the place was crowded and loud with people.
It was a location everyone visited at least once. Whether entering the Fighting Ground or leaving it.
Not long after concealing himself in a corner where all the passages were visible, the young man from the portrait appeared among the crowd.
His face shone brighter than in the painting. A young man with a benevolent countenance that seemed out of place in this location.
He slipped out of the hall.
Dein followed silently behind him. Far more discreetly and cautiously than usual.
Number one did not hurry. He turned into alleys, crossed main streets, entered narrow passages. He walked forward with clear purpose, his eyes fixed ahead.
‘An opponent who can sense even Jenia’s presence. That means at least a third-rank fighter.’
Dein maintained his distance. He synchronized his breathing with his target’s as they walked.
Instinct made him step back once more before conscious thought caught up. His skin sensed it first, then his mind followed.
Immediately after Dein withdrew, number one stopped. Had he pressed forward, his opponent would have noticed.
The young man turned his body and entered a building. It was a crumbling, dilapidated Chapel. Among dust and silence, number one knelt before a statue.
From the shadows came a quiet voice. He was reciting a prayer.
“Justia, grant me again today the Ability to Discern Truth and Falsehood, and deliver me from evil…….”
Justia. The name of the god who governs justice. Dein, who had been listening to his supplication, quietly withdrew.
He left no trace and returned to his disciples. They rose to their feet as soon as they saw him.
“Master, did anything happen?”
“Nothing of consequence. But tell me—which of you two, Cesare and Arkel, decided to fight next?”
“Arkel.”
At those words, Dein’s eyes sharpened. He spoke in a tone that was rather stern.
“Cesare will fight in the next match.”
“……Why is that?”
Arkel asked, his eyes showing confusion. Dein answered firmly.
“The god of justice is not on your side.”
* * *
“You have waited long. After countless dogs have shed blood in combat, at last we arrive at the Finals!”
The announcer’s ringing voice echoed across the arena. The dirt floor of the Fighting Ground was darkened with blood, and the crowd seemed even more fevered than before.
And there, amid it all, stood Dein and Jenia. While heat rose from those around them, only Dein’s expression remained cold.
Jenia had not brought fried corn today either. She watched Dein in silence, when suddenly the announcer’s voice rang out.
“Entering the Finals stage is our champion, bearer of a count’s bloodline and former Holy Knight—the loyal hound undefeated in succession! Number One takes the arena!”
A thunderous roar of applause erupted from the stands. Number One entered to the crowd’s cheers, his bearing magnificent and assured.
A white, gleaming Helmet, Armor, Shield, and a Mace studded with spikes. The announcer’s excited voice continued.
“And this one too has climbed to the Finals without defeat! The mad hound who grasped victory bare-handed even under restrictions—Number Thirteen!”
Unlike before, there were no cheers. Arkel, who had been standing in silence, fixed his gaze intently on Dein. Cesare beside him let out a grumble.
“Damn it all. Stubborn as a mule. Won’t listen to his teacher, and now he goes out there anyway.”
Dein had warned Arkel many times over. It was obvious as day that if he went out, he would struggle.
Ordinarily, Arkel obeyed his master’s word. But this time, he would not back down.
“Master, I am sorry. I truly wish to compete in this match.”
“Even against my command?”
“…Just this once.”
As Arkel spoke thus, gazing at Dein, his eyes held a desperate plea.
“Could you not grant me this one act of defiance?”
He had not known that desperation could paint such an expression on a face.
For Arkel, defiance must have been harder than obedience. As the saying goes, no parent can overcome their child’s will. In the end, Arkel took his place on that stage of his own accord.
“He won’t listen to you either. You must be frustrated, aren’t you?”
“…Frustrated, and yet not. This is the first time he has ever defied me.”
Always obedient, that was who he had been. Even when Arkel occasionally protested, he would ultimately follow Dein’s wishes.
“And though he may be hurt, I did not send Arkel into death. He will return victorious.”
Dein held faith in him. Because he trusted Arkel, he had accepted his defiance.
In the meantime, Number One approached from the opposite side. In this dark Dog Fighting Arena, he alone shone white and resplendent.
Number One made a light bow, as knights do.
“My name is Kihano. Before this honorable combat, I have a question for you.”
Kihano drew forth his Mace. Its end pointed toward Arkel.
“I ask you this: Have you ever taken a human 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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