I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple-Chapter 169

At this point, only one path remained for the story to follow—the most primal method passed down from ancient times. Brutal, perhaps, but unmatched in its effectiveness.

"I wonder if you're as good as your mouth," Barter said, drawing his sword.

I started circulating my internal energy. I'd conserved as much as I could while fighting the demons, but that wouldn't be possible against someone like him. I had ignored him until now, but there was no denying Barter's skill.

Anyone who faced Barter would inevitably lose. That included Hector and Charon, the most gifted among the hero disciples, as well as the Young Dark Pope Evan, and Seren.

Even now, the outcome was no different. I managed to scratch at his nerves effectively, but he remained composed.

In any case, this has to end here. I needed to firmly put Barter in his place. In an emergency, having two commanders was a disaster waiting to happen. Confusion in the chain of command leads only to ruin.

The one saving grace was that Barter seemed to understand this too. He saw me as an opponent who had to be dealt with, so he wouldn't shy away from a fight.

Just then, the silent Alderson finally spoke up. "I won't allow you to fight here."

His mana spread through the room like ripples on water. It wasn't particularly threatening, but it had a calming effect, like a gentle breeze that dulled the edges of tension. It doused the fire in me as if someone had poured cold water over it.

I shrugged and stopped circulating my internal energy. Barter slightly lowered his sword. Of course, both of us knew this truce was only temporary. We'd likely resume this when Alderson wasn't watching.

Alderson seemed to sense this. He regarded us quietly, then said slowly, "Still, I understand that you have irreconcilable differences. So, here's the plan: you will compete twelve hours from now, and we will follow the winner's decision."

Barter replied coldly, "My opinion is to move to Building 13 as soon as possible."

"You must understand that Hero Disciple Luan's opinion holds some merit," Alderson said. "Twenty-four hours is neither long nor short in this situation. It's right to take a break first and discuss what lies ahead."

He continued, "I know it wasn't easy for you to get back here. You need rest as well. I will act as referee. Mana use will be prohibited—you will compete purely through martial arts. Do you understand?"

Barter sighed deeply and sheathed his sword. He glanced at me briefly, then turned without another word. Marco and his subordinates, likely Special Forces, followed him silently.

I clicked my tongue loudly. "Would you look at that annoying bastard? Can't even stick around to hear the elder finish speaking. Tsk. I'll never grow up to be that arrogant."

"Enough with the provocations," Alderson said.

"Should I?" I gave a shrug and nodded.

Alderson suddenly burst into laughter. "Looking at you, even despair loses its edge. What's going on with your nerves? Is it because you're a Badniker?"

"Who knows?"

"No. Hector Badniker isn't like that at all. Maybe it's just in your nature," he said.

I told Alderson, "There's no reason to be frustrated when victory is still possible. If I try everything and it doesn't work, then I'll curse later."

"Like what?"

"Gods, you sons of bitches... or something like that."

Alderson chuckled. "Thankfully, I'm not a man of faith."

"Dean Alderson, I wouldn't have said that if you were a believer."

"Come to think of it, that's true." Alderson laughed again. "Never giving up until the end—that's something everyone knows deep down. Yet the mind is a strange thing. The more urgent the situation, the harder it is to control. One thing's clear: your optimism will become a beacon for everyone in the future."

Honestly, insults bothered me less than compliments like these. When people looked at me with favor, praised me, or placed arbitrary expectations on me, the weight felt heavier somehow.

"What beacon?" I asked.

"I don't think you realize how the hero disciples see you. No matter what you believe about yourself, you are already their leader." Alderson smiled wryly and added, "Let's take a walk."

Did he have something else to say?

He moved first, and I followed. His pace was slow—not just because of his age, but because he hadn't yet fully recovered. I reached out to help, but Alderson shook his head and pressed on.

Once the sobbing and frustrated voices of the students faded behind us, Alderson said, "I feel responsible for what happened. The academy is a place of learning. We have spared no effort to create the best environment for education.

"We deliberately fostered conflict between students' ideologies to spark productive arguments. We hoped that the young people would grow into better human beings, nourished by those debates."

I had only ever seen Alderson's eccentric side. He had built a ridiculous structure called the Tower of Training and seemed to enjoy the pain of students climbing it. He admired the White Knights and had even created 250 battle golems.

Above all, Alderson was a mage. They were a breed that would stop at nothing to achieve their goals. The title of Archmage crowned that relentless pursuit.

Mages never felt real to me. They lived long lives, and I respected their age and experience. Still, the deeper I got to know them, the more I sensed the madness that consumed those who devoted everything to a single field.

"Not putting limits on teaching, changing thoughts and ideologies freely, and thinking freely about your future career path—these are all the privileges of young people. Our academy has a responsibility to keep them safe before they enter society," Alderson said.

This side of Alderson surprised me. For the first time, I didn't see him as an Archmage but as the dean of the academy. Suddenly, I understood why this old man held that position.

I scratched the back of my head, searching for words. But how could I comfort someone who had lived far longer than I had? In the end, I offered a simple phrase anyone could say. "I'm sorry."

"The children are all still alive. As the princess said, their souls are tormented and mortgaged. I'm going to save every single one of them, even at the risk of my life." Alderson spoke clearly. "I swear here that this blood-red world will be driven out by my purple light."

The Purple Archmage, Alderson Marbour. Just like with the dormitory grading, he placed purple above the red of the imperial family.

Curious, I asked, "You seem to like purple."

"Isn't it the most mysterious color?" Alderson smiled. "That is why I like the Badnikers."

I assumed he meant the color of our eyes and chuckled. "Dean Alderson, you are the most normal mage I know."

He paused at my words, then smiled back. "Not all mages are like Assad. He is a weirdo even among the Archmages."

"Ah. Is that so?"

"Yes."

I looked Alderson in the eye and declared, "Rest assured, Dean Alderson. I'm here to bring about the dawn."

I remembered the Martial God's words as I stared up at the dark, blood-red sky and muttered, "The harder the times are, the more the sun must rise."

***

After the brief exchange with Alderson, I found an empty room, stepped inside, and shut the door behind me. The Yang Qi from the shattered Spirit Jade was rampaging through my body.

I let out a slow breath, calming the storm, and absorbed the energy as smoothly as I could. A pleasant warmth spread through my body, relaxing my muscles. Meanwhile, my mind drifted back to my talk with Alderson.

An optimistic attitude? Was that really it? I wasn't sure I felt optimistic. Right now, I held only one approach toward life: to do everything possible within my current limits.

I couldn't say if this was the right answer. Even when I gave my best, regrets still found a way in. I had actually already experienced this during the training camp that was now just a memory.

Truthfully, I didn't want the Spirit Mountain's Blessing to be activated. Undoubtedly, it was a powerful blessing, a second chance at life, but beyond that, I felt a hollow emptiness. It was as if all my worries, struggles, and efforts as a person would be wiped away.

Is this arrogance? I suddenly recalled the conversation I had with the Iron-Blooded Lord.

"How could a human defeat a god while remaining human?"

"To do that, there would need to be multiple opportunities... Like having extra lives, the chance to try again, or the most absurd possibility—being able to turn back time."

That was the truth. To face something as absurd as a demon king, I would need an equally absurd advantage.

I chuckled softly and rose from my seat. I had finished the internal energy circulation sooner than I had expected, so I had some time before facing Barter. I opened the door and stepped outside, planning to warm up my body, but suddenly someone's head collided sharply with my solar plexus.

"Huh?" I looked down and saw blue hair.

"You're here!" Mir Giant exclaimed.

"Do you have business with me?" I asked.

"Yes!"

"What is it?"

"Remove me from the attack squad!"

I stared at her. "Why?"

Mir flinched, but then raised her voice even more. "There are a lot of people stronger than me!"

I folded my arms. "For example?"

"T-that blond knight and... your brother..."

"You're mistaken."

"W-what?"

"You're stronger than both of them."

Mir's eyes went wide, filled with disbelief, as if trying to understand whether I meant it.

What? I thought she had shaken off her trauma back at the training camp. She no longer froze at the sight of large opponents, but maybe she hadn't built up her self-esteem after all.

I couldn't help feeling dumbfounded. This little girl didn't seem to recognize her true worth. I told her, "That's perfect. Things worked out just in time. Follow me."

"Where? Ugh."

I grabbed Mir by the back of the neck and went looking for a suitable spot. I needed a spacious area, so I headed straight to the cafeteria on the first floor. Of course, it was still a mess. No one had cleaned up yet, which was understandable.

I kicked over the fallen tables or shoved them into a corner to clear some space. Then I glanced at Mir, who still stood there in a daze, and asked, "Do you want to warm up, or shall we just get started?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Of course, it is a fight."

"All of a sudden?"

"Most fights start without warning." As soon as the words left my mouth, I hurled a chair straight at her.

Mir responded on instinct and punched forward.

Whoa. The wooden chair shattered completely, not even a splinter left behind.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded.

I ignored her and lunged forward with a punch. My fist, charged with internal energy, was wrapped in Fire Qi, a faint flame flickering around it.

Mir gritted her teeth, reached out, and blocked all five of my punches. The contact felt stiff, like smashing against rebar instead of flesh.

That was expected. Physically, giants were the strongest of the seven races. In a match without mana, a giant would always emerge victorious. On top of that, Mir was a descendant of Ymir, the legendary giant. Her bloodline rivaled that of the Badnikers, descendants of Dark Fairy Kuset.

Still, the more aggressively I attacked, the more passive Mir's defense became. At one point, she faltered and stepped back. Thanks to her sturdy body, she showed no wounds, but I felt so frustrated that I felt like dying.

I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Why are you so scared?"

"What?"

"You were born with the strongest spear and armor," I said in exasperation. "Don't you know how much of a blessing that is?"

She didn't need to dodge or defend constantly. Her greatest advantage was focusing all her energy on attacking. If Mir charged recklessly, I would have to work harder to land my hits.

"I-I..." Mir stepped back, bewildered.

Maybe I shouldn't have pressured her. Her offense grew even more passive.

At that moment, the Martial God weighed in.

—Increase your power.

"You think I should?"

—You must, Messenger. It's her task to break the egg, but there's no harm in offering a little help. For difficult problems, we must work together.

The comparison was apt. The chick had to crack the shell on its own, but the mother could still peck from the outside to ease the way.

My flames flared to life. After the battle with Khajitta, they had grown even more intense. Now they burned in three distinct stages: red, blue, and purple. With each color change, the heat surged higher.

The moment my flames changed from red to blue, Mir's expression finally changed. She clenched her small teeth tightly, and an eerie blue light flickered in her eyes. Then came the roar. It was the kind of deep, booming sound that belonged to something the size of a mountain—not a girl of her size.

The windows shattered with a sharp crack, and an icy blast exploded from Mir's body.

I recoiled as if caught in a sudden blizzard and wrapped myself in blue flames. They were not strong, but enough to block the cold from seeping in.

Where heat and cold collided beyond my skin, mist rose like vapor. At that moment, something small flew out and struck me. I crossed my arms to soften the blow, but my body was hurled across the cafeteria, slamming into a wall. It was Mir's fist.

I felt a cold sting along my arms. Then something strange stirred within me, a swirling blend of ice and flame. The sensation felt impossible. After all, fire and ice were probably the most incompatible elements in existence.

—Remember that feeling, Messenger.

"Martial God?"

His voice echoed briefly before fading away. His chronic illness had flared up again. He always pretended to know something, left a single sentence hanging, then vanished.

"T-this..." Mir gasped, struggling to catch her breath as she stared down at her arm.

"It is the power of the giants. You have awakened your ancestors' strength," I explained. "Congratulations."

"Ah..."

"You possess the greatest raw physical power, and now you've gained a special ability. That's reassuring." I bent my knees to meet the little giant's eyes. "Building 13 is the demon king's domain. Strange things happen there. Blessings or mana may be sealed away. When that happens, the only thing you can trust is your own body. Do you understand? I put you on the team because I need you."

"But I'm so small..."

"Small doesn't mean weak. Let me ask you something. Why did you apply for the Badnikers' training camp?"

"I..." Mir looked down and mumbled, "Because I'm pathetic. I wanted to change. I wanted to become a hero."

"Exactly. Look at what's happening now. The dean is wounded, I don't trust the Special Forces, and students are dying. Doesn't it feel like an unprecedented crisis, and the perfect time for a hero to rise? Lend me your strength. I need you."

Mir hesitated, her eyes blank as she stared at me. Then she nodded and clenched her fists. "I understand."

A flicker like my blue flames seemed to ignite in her eyes. "Now... I think I'm ready!"

"Good."

"Yeah! It's a strange feeling! Like I can do anything..." Mir turned to me and exclaimed, "You... You awakened me, Luan Badniker! You taught me!"

"Taught you? I just gave a little help."

"Can I call you Master?"

"No."

"Master."

"No way," I replied with a sullen expression.

Mir didn't seem to hear and shouted with bright eyes, "Master...!"

Don't do it.