How to Teach a Hero at the Academy

Chapter 13: Do You Believe in God? (1)

Abel dredged up an old memory.

For instance, the time he first taught a Hero.

Ashen withered bushes fluttered,

And the decaying land cracked towards the horizon,

“──Why.”

He was asked a question.

The voice of a man, like grains of sand.

Small, and scratchy.

Abel smiled, holding in blood. The blade that had pierced his chest. He looked down at it. Further below, the man's shadow covered Abel's tilted body. Abel was standing, trampling on it.

“Why, Abel Argento.”

The man gripping the hilt said.

“To me, you were the enemy of a lifetime. I stood in this place with the sole thought of ending your life. And yet, and yet why……”

The man's voice began to tremble.

“……Why, was all this resentment a lie.”

Abel was the man's teacher.

He had taken in the man who had lost his parents at a young age, and had taught him so he could pull his own weight. He had seen off the man's pilgrimage to become a Holy Knight, and finally, when the Demon King had manifested and the world was in danger──,

Abel had posed as the man's enemy.

He had feigned being the one who had killed the man's parents, and had acted as the culprit every time someone precious to the man drew their last breath. He had also interfered with the progress of the Demon King subjugation party, which was centered around the man. The Demon King was a being who defiled the world. Abel Argento was a being who had defiled his life. The man had honed his blade, believing so.

And at the moment he finally faced Abel with his sword,

The man realized that his resentment was built on his teacher's feigned villainy.

“Why. Why in the world. Why did you become my teacher, and also why……”

Did you become the vessel for my resentment.

At the man's question, the corners of Abel's mouth tilted.

“Because I don't know any other way.”

Other than making him have a target to pour his resentment into,

Because he didn't know how to raise the man into a Hero.

Because Abel himself had honed only resentment to kill the Demon King.

And so, he had volunteered to become the enemy.

“I wanted you to become stronger, and……”

Abel whispered softly.

The hilt slipping from the man's hand.

Abel looked back at the man with his blood-stained body, then,

“……You have become as strong as I once was.”

He crumbled, blessing the completion of his first disciple.

All that was left was the man's resentment, with nowhere to go.

“You mustn't die.”

A wet voice.

A continuing cry.

“You mustn't die, Abel Argento!”

.

.

.

‘I didn't die.’

Abel thought with a blank expression.

As if he would die from just having his body pierced by a sword. Thanks to that, his relationship with his first disciple was tense. He had completed the Demon King subjugation while frequently being stabbed by his disciple's sword.

If there was no target to direct one's resentment towards, one would suffer from lethargy, but if the target was clear, one was bound to wring out their strength. The Abel of that time could only give such a teaching. It was because he had been clumsy as a teacher.

‘It's not something to be done twice.’

If there was something he had lost through repeated reincarnations, it was probably feigned villainy.

A righteous disciple must kill their teacher.

They must become stronger, and more righteous than their teacher.

There was a time he believed so. As if begging his disciple for the answer to his self-loathing.

‘It's all in the past.’

A faint, hollow smile graced Abel's lips.

His first disciple must have lived out his natural lifespan and then drawn his last breath.

Abel did not let his disciples become ‘The Mother God's Left Hand.’

As ‘The Mother God's Right Hand’, as heroes, he had hoped they would end their lives in their respective worlds.

And so, all that was left was the body of the teacher who had outlived his disciples.

The faculty-exclusive tea party hall of Cia-Harphe Academy.

The professors' gazes were scanning Abel.

- I'm curious. Why was a Sword Saint dispatched to CIAR? Isn't this the first time he has shown himself publicly since the Mirror War?

- I hope he wasn't disfavored by the Pope. Considering the accidents that happen here, we wouldn't have anything to say even if he exercised his right of disposal……

While the private murmurs curved,

Abel brought the collar of his clothes to his nose. Even though he had changed out of the formal attire that had been soiled by Roberta's trap, for some reason, the smell of the sewer seemed to vibrate tenaciously.

‘This isn't the time for this.’

Abel let out a sigh.

He took out the old journal from the inner pocket of his formal coat.

‘Reviewing the current status of Epezeria.’

『──I, the God of Fate ‘Eckhart’, look upon the world,』

『And you shall borrow the eyes of a fairy.』

『 Current Status of ‘Epezeria’ 』

─ Causality Rate: 84%

─ Contamination Level: 27%

─ Holy Sword Awakening Process: 0%

─ Missions: 3

Staring at the oracle, Abel began his review.

‘No change in the causality rate.’

The world is a structure woven by the main gods.

Causality is a precarious support that endures such a world.

The world was bound to be inherently unstable. Because nature changes from moment to moment, and the life and death of beings are also not uniform.

That was why the main gods only bestowed powers that did not damage causality. The existence of the main gods was too vast, and also too powerful for the world to endure.

Creating a world was the work of weaving a complex piece of glasswork.

Wielding power was the work of stimulating the glasswork with a grip.

They were completely different systems of work. The reason why only completely ruined worlds could be regressed was also due to such a context. While it was possible to restore a collapsed world based on records, trying to exert great power on a crumbling world would only make the cracks larger.

Causality was not only damaged by the main gods.

Due to the existence of the Demon King.

Or due to ‘The Mother God's Left Hand.’

The full power possessed by those like Abel, who had saved more than one world, paradoxically also caused damage to the world.

‘View missions.’

『──I, the God of War ‘Clausewitz’, look upon the world,』

『And you shall be properly armed.』

Abel recalled the missions that were beginning to be written in the journal.

『 Missions Given to ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’ 』

─ Negotiation with the Five Spirit Kings

‘That is the Mage's mission.’

The Mage among the Mother God's left hand had left for the polar regions.

To prevent the foretold extinction of the spirits in the near future.

─ Purification of the Demon Realm

‘That is the Strategist's and the Inspector's mission.’

The Strategist and the Inspector were stationed near the Demon Realm in their own ways.

The Demon Realm was a land that gave birth to monsters. Its purification was essential.

─ Suppression of the Mirror War

‘This is the mission assigned to the Saintess and me.’

That the phrase of the oracle had not disappeared meant that the Mirror War was not yet over. Hadn't they said that the remnants of the 2nd Prince's faction were gathering under the surface of the capital. Abel recalled what Iris had said.

‘It was as predicted.’

War is a stain on history.

It is not easily erased.

The end of a war is not brought about by a mere declaration. Corpses just pile up in the shadows of those who are optimistic about peace.

Abel put the journal into the inner pocket of his formal coat.

“Hello, Sword Saint.”

At that moment, a gruff voice rained down on Abel.

When Abel lifted his head, he saw an old man with a mischievous smile. Dark skin and stiff white hair like a mane. A formal suit barely covered the old man's muscular body, and the teacups held in both his hands were engraved with a cheerful pattern that didn't suit him.

“I'm Felix Christian. A professor in the Department of Swordsmanship.”

The professor of the Department of Swordsmanship,

Felix held out a teacup to Abel.

“Thank you. I am Abel Argento.”

Abel nodded his head, accepting the teacup.

“I know. It would be stranger if I didn't.”

Felix sat down in the seat across from Abel.

The murmuring of the professors grew even stronger.

“Doesn't it bother you? Those chatterboxes.”

Felix asked, looking around.

“But be generous. The Papacy sent a scroll with a vow spell engraved on it to everyone except the President and Vice President. It was a truly vicious content.”

Well, if you reveal the fact that you're a Sword Saint to the outside……,

The content that your heart would be crushed immediately was written on it.

“What can you do. You have to sign. As you know, a vow spell is absolute. And it was written by His Holiness the Pope himself. Everyone's in a position where they'll lose their lives if they misspeak.”

So they gather here and talk.

If those who know talk among themselves, the vow won't be activated.

Felix explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“I've caused an inconvenience.”

“No need to apologize.”

One corner of Felix's mouth went up.

“Everyone must have known they would receive such a measure. They attended your interview knowing that.”

When a Sword Saint comes for an interview,

how could they just stay still.

Muttering so, Felix tilted his eyes. He scrutinized the beloved sword fixed to Abel's waist.

“Your sword, is it an artifact?”

“No. It's just a beloved sword.”

“To have such an old sword as a beloved sword. Your taste is quite unique. What's the difference from a necrophiliac.”

“I don't think this sword is dead.”

“Oh-ho. You have an optimistic personality, unlike how you look.”

Felix picked up a teaspoon and stirred the inside of the teacup.

Then he tilted his head and whispered.

“Let me tell you one thing.”

Felix's voice became sharp.

“I don't trust Holy Knights. There's no such thing as faith in a life-or-death battle. Divine power, Aura, all that, it's disgusting to see them act dignified with such trivial skills while holding a sword.”

So I will ask.

Sword Saint, Abel of the Margin.

“……You.”

Felix's gaze, sharpening like a beast's.

“How's it, are your genitals a bit big?”

Abel tilted his head for a moment.

Then he opened his mouth.

“They are big.”

Hoo, and.

A smile spread across Felix's lips.

“How big?”

“Some sights cannot be described with words.”

──Khahaha!

Right. That's right. There are such sights.

Bursting into a hearty laugh, Felix pounded on the table.

It was at that moment.

“Um……, Teacher.”

A small voice was heard.

The professors had covered their mouths at some point. It was because a boy who didn't know Abel was a Sword Saint had entered the tea party hall. The boy, who was standing next to Felix and bowing his head. He had a pale face and a thin body.

“Ooh, what is it?”

Felix asked the boy.

“That is……, I have finished the training you advised.”

“Ah, is that so.”

Felix chugged the contents of the teacup in one go.

“He's my personal disciple.”

Then he introduced him to Abel.

“He's a rare child. A special scholarship student of commoner origin. Just like the child you brought. It would be fun to have them spar someday.”

Greet him, and.

Felix said to his personal disciple.

“This is Abel Argento, a professor in the Department of Theology. An extraordinary man.”

“……I am Dante Marchisio.”

Felix's personal disciple, Dante, bowed to Abel.

Abel nodded his head.

“Let's go, Dante. When you cross a mountain, there is another mountain, and when training ends, new training awaits.”

Felix, who stood up from his seat and started walking.

Dante stared blankly at his teacher's back, then, after greeting Abel, he scurried off.

“Dante Marchisio.”

Suddenly, Abel called Dante to a stop.

Yes……, and. Answering with a listless voice, Dante looked back at Abel. Abel's gaze was fixed on the longsword held in Dante's arms. It wasn't as big as the great sword Iris had made for Monika, but it was an item that looked too big and old for a boy's body to handle.

“That sword is an artifact.”

“No. It's an, an ordinary sword.”

“Can you swear it.”

“……Yes.”

Then I'll be on my way…….

Dante bowed and then followed Felix.

Abel stared at Dante's retreating back, then suddenly looked down at the teacup placed beside him. He finally took a sip of the tea. It was just cold tea, but a pain as if his throat was being seared by a heated iron skewer assaulted him.

‘As I thought, it's impossible.’

Even to drink a sip of tea.

Abel smiled bitterly.

All that was left in his mouth was a foreign feeling, as if he were holding grains of sand.

Small, and scratchy.

You mustn't die, and.

As if the voice of his old disciple was stuck in his throat.

* * *

An hour later, in the afternoon.

“Let the lecture begin.”

Abel, who had stepped onto the stage, opened his mouth.

The lecture hall, composed in a semicircle, was full of students.

The class Abel would be conducting was 「Application of Divine Magic」.

It was a mandatory subject for the 5th-year students of the Department of Theology at CIAR. That's why the competition for grades was also high, and the students were enduring the post-luncheon drowsiness with the sole determination not to fall behind.

“My name is Abel Argento.”

Abel said in a business-like tone.

“I am a general who used to lead Holy Knights. As you all would know. A Holy Knight is a military branch that uses divine magic in the most practical way. From now on, I will guide you all on the rational application of divine magic.”

The students nodded their heads.

The military branches that use divine magic are largely divided into two types. One is the Cleric. The other is the Holy Knight.

A Cleric is a military branch that is active in the rear. They are mobilized to heal the wounds of the injured, or sometimes to wield large-scale divine magic.

On the other hand, a Holy Knight takes charge of the front line. Instead of abstaining from large-scale divine magic, they fight in the most economical way.

“So, put away the scriptures you have on your desks. We will not be using them in today's lecture.”

One of the scriptures of the Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy on the lectern.

Abel said, holding it and shaking it.

There was a scripture on every student's desk. There were seven scriptures in total. Only the first in order, Soteriology, and the last in order, Eschatology, were distributed to the public. Because the five in the middle could only be deciphered by those with divine power.

“Five of the scriptures……, the Mother God Theory, Underworld Theory, Oblivion Theory, Fate Theory, and War Theory, which symbolize the five main gods, will be your textbooks.”

Abel was right.

Divine magic is learned through the scriptures.

The five scriptures, each consisting of ten chapters, signified the system of divine magic, and the difficulty of the spells increased towards the back of the scriptures.

The power that is the basis of divine magic is collectively called divine power, but its properties were different for each divine power holder. Because the type and degree of scriptures that each individual could decipher were different.

Divine power is the power to commune with the main gods.

It meant the ability to use the spells permitted by each main god by connecting the soul to the Pantheon.

The amount of scripture deciphered varied from person to person.

Divine power holders were commonly given the qualification to decipher the five scriptures. Some may decipher a significant amount of the Mother God Theory, but can hardly read the other four scriptures. This process of deciphering is a lifelong process. That's why one could not be optimistic about their achievements, nor could they give up.

The deciphered phrases of the scripture serve as the Cast,

And when one perceives it with their eyes, the spell is learned.

That was why the students of the Department of Theology usually kept the scriptures with them.

“I have no intention of opening the scriptures and having a reading club. We will approach the main gods in a more practical way.”

Therefore……,

Before the main lecture, I ask of you all.

Abel said with a firm expression.

A moment of silence.

“Do not believe in God.”

The lecture hall quieted down.

While the students' gazes were tinged with bewilderment,

There was a girl who was smiling alone.

‘Do not believe in God.’

The only 4th-year student who was permitted to attend a 5th-year lecture.

The contractor with the God of the Underworld, ‘Aries’.

The rising star of the Department of Theology, Fleur de Saint-Pierre.

‘He really is an interesting person.’