Chapter 76

Chapter : 76

Katarina, who taught me swordsmanship, was a professor at the Academy. Even if her salary was not all that high, the important point was that she received money in exchange for teaching. She was paid by the Academy to educate me in swordsmanship.

Then what about Ian?

He taught me magic for free. In the process, his precious knowledge naturally spread to me, and I took up quite a lot of his time. Why did he teach me magic? Why?

He probably had his own reasons, but I had no way of knowing them.

It had been several months since I began learning magic from Ian.

Deep down, I felt burdened.

If we were carpooling, I should at least pay for gas, but I had only ever received things from Ian.

I needed to do something for him too. What should I do?

Compensating him with money would make the sum too large. How much would Ian’s personal instruction be worth? If it were put up for auction, an enormous amount would come out.

But I could not lowball it either, so I would have to pay its proper value, and that was far too much money to exchange casually.

Then what? Should I give him an item instead of money?

Ian was a guy with no real preferences, so giving him something as a gift was difficult too. So I decided to make him one meal.

As for food from this place, it would be better to tour an expensive restaurant than have me make it. It was not as though I was a proper chef, and I did not even have a common certification.

So I wanted to feed Ian something he had never eaten and could never eat, but the menu was the problem.

To be honest, I did not think Korean food was especially appealing. I liked it because I was Korean, but if I had been born with another nationality... well, I did not think I would go out of my way to eat it.

As always, the person concerned mattered most in such matters, so I went to Ian and said,

“I feel like I have only ever received things from you, so I feel burdened.”

“What did you receive that makes you feel burdened?”

“I learned magic from you.”

“Really? If it burdens you, should we stop?”

“No, it does not have to go that far. I just thought I should do something for you, so I am thinking of making you a meal. What do you think?”

“Make it, then.”

“What do you want to eat? Ah, I will explain the dishes to you. Listen and tell me whether they sound good.”

When I tried to choose foods Ian would never have a chance to eat, and that I had made before or could at least attempt, the only thing left was Korean food.

The problem was that most of it took far, far too much work, and much of it was in a realm I could not possibly handle.

Soy sauce, for example.

It was a seasoning that went into practically everything, but how was I supposed to make it?

Just that one thing made me feel as though I had slammed into a wall.

There were foods like Samgyeopsal and Baeksuk that were relatively easy to procure ingredients for and that anyone would like. But the reason I did not put those two among the choices was because I wondered whether they really counted.

Was Samgyeopsal not merely grilling meat from that cut over fire, and Baeksuk merely boiling a chicken in water?

It felt as though the meaning of making Ian something he would never eat unless it was this opportunity would fade. Once I removed Samgyeopsal and Baeksuk like that, nothing remained.

Similarly, fried chicken was merely chicken fried in oil, egg dishes like rolled omelet were common, and every time various foods passed through my mind, a reason why they would not work followed behind.

After struggling and struggling over it, I reached a conclusion.

If I continued like this, there would be no end.

Let us make fried chicken.

Sincerity was important in food, but it was not as though something was necessarily more sincere just because it took more effort and time.

What was most important in food? Taste, of course.

Among the things I could make, nothing matched fried chicken, and Ian nodded after hearing the explanation of fried chicken.

I bought a dressed chicken, cut it into pieces, and coated it in flour while wondering what to do about the fire. As with all fried dishes, it had to be crispy to taste right, but if the fire was weak, the chicken would turn soggy, and if the fire was strong, it would burn.

The method was to burn one chicken first. After thoroughly burning a chicken black, I gradually lowered the heat. With this method, the point where the chicken no longer burned was the temperature where it could be fried at its crispiest.

By the third chicken I had cleanly burned.

I began to wonder what I should eat this with. People commonly said fried chicken went with beer. Beer was liquor made from barley. It was a common alcoholic drink here too, so it could be obtained easily.

Hmm.

Insisting on some unusual drink for no reason seemed foolish. It was a popular pairing, and I could obtain it simply, so let us not do anything strange.

When frying chicken, I controlled the fire by the number of pieces of firewood, but as I watched it, the strength of the flame differed from one piece to another. Since I had roughly obtained whatever firewood I could get, the cause was that each piece came from a different type of wood.

I thought it would be better to use magic instead, and that was indeed correct.

No, in fact, it was far more convenient.

By adjusting only the amount of mana I put in, I could maintain the flame at a constant level. I blamed myself for not doing this from the beginning and burned another chicken.

At some point, rather than putting in a whole chicken, I reduced it to half a chicken, then to a quarter, since it was obvious I was going to burn it anyway.

It was while I was burning chicken again.

Outside had grown noisy.

More precisely, someone screamed, and something sounded as though it were exploding.

BOOM—! BOOM—!

Wondering what was going on, I washed my hands clean, put my sword at my waist, and went outside.

In the distance, students were running with all their might. Their clothes were all different, and they were not running in formation. They looked as though something was chasing them from behind, and a sharp headache stabbed at my temple.

Hmm.

What was happening? No matter how optimistically I tried to think, there was only one conclusion.

Agares was a moron.

---

I know my body well.

Agares had said that several times. He had confidently boasted that he was fine.

I know my body well. Ah, that was something only an utter fool would say.

If people knew their own bodies so well, why would doctors exist in this world? Even so, I had believed Agares because his expression had been so convincing. Because he should have been an expert when it came to Dark Power.

If it was Agares, surely I could trust him. I had let it pass too carelessly.

I was the stupid one.

A frog does not notice the water in the pot growing hot. Agares was the same.

Agares did not notice even as Amadeus’s influence grew stronger and stronger. That was why a situation like this had occurred.

I grabbed a passing student and asked about the situation. Apparently, Agares had gone berserk, and Jefrin had tried to stop him.

Hearing the explanation of the situation left me feeling strange.

First, after pushing the pathetic Agares aside, Jefrin remained.

Was Jefrin alive? Or had he died?

What was certain was that even if he was alive right now, he would die before long.

The current Jefrin was weak.

It was impossible for him to hold out against Agares, and against Agares with Amadeus half-descended into him at that. Even if he was alive right now, before long, his head would fall to the ground.

How should I move in this situation?

Should I go help Jefrin? Helping him itself was possible.

Just shouting Amadeus’s true name would clearly weaken the power of the bastard in the middle of descending. If it was the two of us, we could hold out without damage until someone else arrived.

Yes. I could help Jefrin. The danger was low.

Then should I help Jefrin?

I was not sure. If Jefrin died, it would benefit me in many ways.

He was Bishot’s strongest card. At present, he was Bishot’s only armed force.

If I simply stayed still, that would disappear, so why would I step forward and help Jefrin?

If I considered only the relationship between Bishot and me, that was true.

Then what was Jefrin to me?

He was not a friend. We had occasionally met face-to-face, but that was all. We had never done anything for the sake of friendship. Even the conversations we had when we met now and then were only bloody things like whether you were strong, whether I was strong, whether we would fight next time, and so on.

What should I do?

“Hmm....”

The time I spent agonizing was short, but my head spun.

I made my answer.

Apparently, I was a sucker. I moved my feet.

Following the path the students had fled from led me toward the Academy’s dining hall.

The dining hall building was on fire, and black smoke billowed out. Beyond the smoke, the sounds of two pieces of metal clashing spread out.

CLANG—! CLANG—!

When I focused my eyes, I saw Jefrin fighting Agares beyond the smoke.

Fortunately, Jefrin seemed to understand his own level properly. He had no intention of bringing his opponent down and was preoccupied only with blocking attacks. He only drew Agares’s attention so he would not charge elsewhere and clashed swords as little as possible.

Of course, that did not mean Jefrin was safe.

BANG—! BANG—!

Amadeus, possessing Agares, drove Jefrin back with monstrous strength and speed. The only thing supporting Jefrin was that Amadeus, who had only just descended, could not properly handle his body and was unskilled in swordsmanship.

If even that had not been the case, Amadeus, pressuring Jefrin with an immortal body, would already have tasted blood. Jefrin barely preserved his life through the narrowest gaps. I should help him before he died.

“Amadeus!”

I shouted the Devil’s true name.

I had never once thought that words held power, but this time was special.

The name Amadeus, each syllable, spread clearly. What was this? I made the sound the same way I usually spoke, but it vibrated through the air with a low hum.

At my call, Amadeus’s body stopped. The smoke of evil Dark Power pouring from his entire body scattered.

With movements awkward as a machine’s, Amadeus turned his body and looked at me.

His eyes were pitch-black.

Black smoke billowed from his eyes, and it was no ordinary fierceness. His face fixed on me.

As expected, calling his true name really did touch a Devil’s reverse scale.

The bastard charged at me.