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Translator: Lizz
Leon endured the pain and began to chant a spell in a small voice. He connected his own guiding vein with the surrounding magic vein and used the magic he absorbed to heal the wound. Few mages could use healing magic, which belonged to the field of biological interference, but Leon could. However, it was not because he had special talent or was superior to others; it was simply a matter of compatibility, like the difference between being good at long-distance running or short-distance running. However, since Leon’s guiding vein was originally weak, it took time for him to do this, and healing severe wounds places a significant burden on himself.
After tending to his own wounds, Leon cautiously reached out to the boy lying on the ground. When he touched the injured area, he realized that the boy’s left arm was indeed broken. Gateau had struck him with no mercy. However, Leon had no intention of blaming his friend. At that moment, Gateau had probably felt that his own life was in danger if he didn’t act.
Leon chanted the spell once more, healing the boy’s injured body in the same way. Even after the wound was healed, Zechs did not wake up. Leon felt a sense of relief at that.
Leon’s fingers were still trembling. He was, after all, Zechs’s mentor. He had never expected to be revered, and he was used to students who, despite seeking his teachings, mocked him for being a below third-rate mage. But even so, he never imagined he would be attacked by one of his own students. Did Zechs lose control and attack indiscriminately, or did he see Leon as someone he could kill without hesitation?
“Are you okay?”
“Well…”
He understood that it wasn’t just about the injury. That was why Leon hesitated to answer.
“Sorry, but could you leave? Zechs hates everything about Lavarta, and he also hates the knights who killed his kin. Maybe it’s better to say he despises them.”
“If I’m here, will he go berserk again?”
Leon nodded silently. He had thought that he could explain to Zechs that Gateau was not an enemy but a friend, and that attacking anyone with magic on sight was unacceptable. However, now he lacked the confidence to reason with the boy.
Gateau seemed like he wanted to say something, but Leon deliberately did not turn around. Even if he asked for help, there was little a knight could do.
“Dariesh said…”
After much deliberation, Gateau reluctantly began.
“He said you can send him a letter anytime.”
Both of them understood what that meant.
“Yeah.”
Leon responded with a murmur that could be taken as either affirmation or denial, as there was no other way to answer.
Regarding the boy I recently took in, I have done my utmost to educate him. However, his lack of motivation and rebellious attitude are beyond my control, and I have no means to resolve the current situation. Therefore, while I acknowledge his high potential, I believe it is unlikely that further educational progress can be expected. I seek your wise decision on this matter.
Leon Varden.
Leon noticed that the last letter of his signature had started to blur with ink. He must have been lost in thought with the pen tip still on the paper. Sighing, he took out a new sheet to rewrite it. He held the pen, but then stopped.
He had already decided the words he needed to write. However, he couldn’t start writing. The sentences he had thought of kept circling in his mind, losing their meaning. Sitting before the chair he was using as a makeshift desk in place of the broken table, Leon found himself looking towards the bedroom at the back of the hut before he knew it.
After seeing Gato off, Leon had carried the unconscious Zechs to the bedroom. The broken bone had been set without any issues.
It was clear as day what would happen if he kept Zechs with him. Sooner or later, there would be another conflict with the villagers, and the repercussions would fall on Leon, or he would be caught up in another of Zechs’ rampages like today. Either way, Leon felt that his own life wouldn’t last much longer.
It was not that he wanted to live a long life, nor had he ever really wanted to live, but he was not foolish enough to throw himself into danger, nor did he have a masochistic tendency.
Leon quietly stood up and walked towards the bedroom without making a sound. Peeking inside through the open door, he saw that the child on the bed had not yet regained consciousness. The boy’s face looked as if he was enduring some kind of torment, far from peaceful. It was pitiful, to say the least.
When one thought of a child’s sleeping face, it was usually peaceful and unconditionally adorable, but that didn’t apply to Zechs. His expression was tense even in sleep, as if he had never experienced a peaceful night.
Leon cautiously entered the bedroom and placed his hand above the sleeping child’s head. When he lightly touched Zechs’ forehead and saw no sign of waking, he gently ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. The sensation of the smooth but stiff hair was new to him. He wondered if he had ever stroked a child’s head before.
He’d had several apprentices over the years, some annoying, some affectionate, and looking back, each of them was somewhat endearing in their own way. But perhaps that was because his involvement with them had been limited to teaching magic for brief periods. Unlike with Zechs, he’d never had to share his life with them or bear the burden of their entire existence.
That was it, Leon thought. A true master-apprentice relationship was as deep as that of a parent and child, or even deeper. If he kept Zechs as an apprentice, he must also bear his past and the dark thoughts he harbored within.
(I can barely keep myself alive…)
Leon mocked himself.
He was struggling just to survive. His life was uncertain. There was no way he could take care of a child with such a heavy burden.
(And yet.)
Sending that letter would be like signing a death warrant. Leon was the last line of defense. If that was breached, there was only one fate awaiting.
Leon thought it was inevitable. If someone possessed too much power and could not control it, they must be eliminated. No, even if Zechs could control his magic, wouldn’t the danger still remain? If this boy continued to harbor hatred while wielding magic, he might bring disaster to Lavarta. It might be best to take action before that happens.
(…Is that correct?)
Leon let out a small, throaty laugh at his own thoughts. It was a laugh tinged with anger.
Justifying killing Zechs because he was a dangerous existence? What hypocrisy. No, it was not even hypocrisy. Leon wasn’t genuinely concerned about the safety of the state or Zechs’ well-being; he was simply afraid of Zechs. The child who could potentially harm him was terrifying. That was why he wanted to get rid of him quickly, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of a child losing his life because of his decision. Even if he convinced himself that he wasn’t responsible, he would carry the guilt of having driven a child to death by his own judgment for the rest of his life.
He was astonishingly self-centered. His guiding vein was fragile, and it seemed his capacity as a person was just as small; Leon sneered at himself.
He stroked Zechs’ head once more, stifled a sigh, and left the bedroom. He then simply tore up the letter left on the chair, dimmed the lamp, and headed to his bed in the library.
When he woke up the next morning, the bedroom door was closed. He hurriedly checked inside, but of course, Zechs was not on the bed. There was no sign of anyone else in the hut either.
The letter he had torn up last night was still on the chair that had been used as the makeshift desk, and Leon regretted not properly disposing of it by burning it or something. Could Zechs have seen the letter and run away? When the hell was that? Could he even catch up now?
Various worries and fears surged, and he rushed outside in a panic. However, Leon immediately stopped. Zechs was sitting on the wooden stairs of the hut, hugging his knees as he bathed in the dawn light.
Because of the loud noise, Zechs must have noticed that Leon was behind him. Even so, he neither turned around nor lifted his head. Was it because he didn’t want to speak, or did he feel some guilt that made it hard to face Leon?
Leon didn’t know. However, the boy hadn’t run away. All this time, he could have run away whenever he wanted to. Maybe it was simply because he had nowhere else to go, but Leon wanted to believe it was because he was trusted, even just a little.
Without saying a word, Leon returned to the hut and made a simple breakfast of bread with cheese for the two of them, then went back outside. Zechs was still in the same position as before, not moving an inch. His posture seemed to reject the world, but perhaps he noticed the smell of the offered bread, as he surprisingly lifted his head and took it silently.
There were no words of thanks or apology, but at least he wasn’t completely rejected. Telling himself this, Leon stood beside the boy and took a bite of his own bread.
The sky, visible beyond the trees surrounding the hut, grew brighter, its perfectly clear blue hue signaling another fine day.
