I Became the Teacher of the Imperial Family’s Bastard

097. What Bloomed in the Snowfield (4)

Rumble―!

The interior of the temple vibrated as if it were about to collapse. It was understandable. The building had been horribly damaged in the fierce battle.

If they didn’t escape now, they would be crushed to death under the piles of rocks.

Kallios gritted his teeth and stood up with that premonition.

It was then.

Clang!

Yuren burst out from a crack in the air. He was carrying Superrt, draped in black flesh like a tattered rag, on his shoulder.

“You’re alive!”

“Yes, well. I managed somehow.”

He spoke as if it were nothing, but it seemed quite a strain.

Considering there had never been an easy battle, this one was particularly severe.

Kallios wanted to commend him for his effort and tell him to rest, but unfortunately, there was no time for that.

“Let’s get out first. We’ll talk later.”

Yuren looked around.

Beatrice, Historia, Eindel, Peto, and even Tibria.

When he saw Tibria, his eyes widened in surprise.

One, he nodded in understanding of the situation.

“Yes, the entire cave will collapse. Those who can walk…”

Kallios kept his mouth shut.

Except for himself, who had recovered his strength with the necklace and Historia’s divine power… even Tibria was now powerless.

Could he move them all outside at once?

Such a worry crossed his mind.

“They’re coming.”

“Your Highness! Master Taesa!!!”

Kallios’s gaze turned towards the entrance.

The royal guards arrived late, running frantically.

A hollow laugh escaped.

Ah, they were there.

Their presence was so faint that he hadn’t realized…

“…You’re right. It’s definitely better than nothing.”

“The more hands, the better.”

The royal guards were horrified by the scene inside.

Meanwhile, Yuren scolded them to move people instead of staring blankly.

Rumble―!

Another tremor at that moment.

Each royal guard carried one of the party members and escaped outside.

By the time the party had exited the temple and the cave, all events had come to a complete end.

Boom!!!

Whether it was the aftermath of a simple battle, or the will of someone who ruled this snowy mountain.

The altar and followers of the foreign god disappeared into the belly of the snowy mountain.

* * *

What would have happened if we had been a little later?

That was the first thought that came to my mind as I looked at the collapsed entrance of the cave.

Of course, there was no benefit in thinking more about something that hadn’t happened yet, so I didn’t think further.

The next discussion was about what to do next.

The distance between the snowy mountain and the Heiron fortress was quite far, especially at sunset.

Given the situation, it was not feasible to carry the injured one by one, so the immediate plan was decided.

“I will go to the fortress with the guards. I will bring back a carriage and a healer.”

“Yes, please do so.”

The prince left with the guards.

What remained were the Grand Duke, the Grand Duke’s son, Aindel, three patients, Beatrice to block the surrounding cold, Historia to take care of the injured, and myself.

The battle was over, but the situation was not good.

Everyone was exhausted, but two were particularly problematic.

Aindel was already too weak in body and mind by the time he arrived here. The Grand Duke’s son, used as a host by the foreign god, was drained of his mental strength and his body was broken by the battle.

If left alone, both would die.

Historia was squeezing out the remaining divine power to keep them breathing.

It was at such a time.

“How is Shpert, how is Shpert?”

It was a cracked metallic voice. Historia hesitated to answer Aindel’s question.

But I did not.

“He’s a rag. The wounds on his body are deep, but more importantly, the black flesh stuck around his body cannot be removed no matter what we do.”

Even with actual surgery, there was no way.

It was not an external problem.

The flesh was functioning as part of his body, sharing the remaining life force of the Grand Duke’s son.

Removing it would mean death, and Aindel understood this immediately.

“I see… it has come to this…”

His smile was full of bitterness.

The old man’s blind gaze was directed somewhere in the void.

His groping hand wandered several times before finally touching Shpert’s hand.

As with all things fading away, it was a breath full of sorrow.

His thumb stroked the back of the boy’s hand, which had not yet shed its youth, and this continued for a long time.

“May I ask one favor?”

“…Please, go ahead.”

“Do not blame this child too much. If there is any responsibility, it lies with me, and I want to bear that resentment.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, it must be so.”

Aindel spoke sadly, yet calmly with determination.

“Isn’t that what a teacher is? Disciples are those who have not yet become anything, so they can’t help but waver… Aren’t they such children? I believe you, the teacher of the empire, would know.”

Well, I didn’t become a grandmaster for such a great cause.

I had a very personal goal, and I just needed that position for it.

But let’s put aside such personal answers and think about it.

That was a story about what it means to be a teacher.

If so, his words were relatable.

When asked what it means to be a teacher, I couldn’t help but think of my teacher, the crown prince.

‘A terrible and wretched human.’

But let’s think a little differently, if it weren’t for the crown prince, I wouldn’t have grown.

Both internally and externally, he certainly made me a much better person than before.

The difference between Aindel and the crown prince was that the crown prince was convinced that I was different from others.

That’s why he made the necessary investment.

But should the teacher-student relationship be merely an investment and reward?

If so, I had no choice but to bring my sister’s answer.

“…I understand.”

“Thank you for doing so.”

Let’s return to the principle and the theory.

As the old man said, disciples are all rotten to the core.

They are half-wits who can’t even decide what they want to be and just stagger around.

But isn’t that why they are disciples? If they could move forward alone without anyone’s help, wouldn’t they be beings who don’t need a teacher?

The same goes for teachers.

Those who are complete and perfect in themselves do not pretend to be someone else’s teacher.

Because there would be nothing to gain by continuing.

What they want is to supplement what they have learned and pass it on to the next generation.

Teachers are pitiful beings who struggle to ensure that their imperfections do not end as imperfections.

They need each other.

That was the teacher-student relationship.

“You will be different from me. You will become even greater than now. Isn’t that so? Shuperte still has a lot of time allowed. No one can point out immaturity. If that were possible, it would surely be someone who has never seemed immature even once. But is there such a person?”

Aindel said so and laughed heartily.

Then he coughed up a sound mixed with metal.

He fumbled and got up.

Only then did he add more words.

“I have, I have one last thing I can do. That thing will surely create a better future than now. So, can you make room for me?”

Even a fool could understand.

The last thing he could do was, in the end, the last thing he would do in his life.

If you ask whether you should stop him… that wouldn’t be the right answer.

Not being able to die in a place where you should die is a very painful thing.

“Shall I step aside for you?”

“Just a little… just a little, please.”

No more words were added.

I bowed my head briefly and moved away from the two of them.

Historia and Beatrice followed behind me.

The Grand Duke, who had staggered up, also tried to move away.

The reason she paused for a moment was probably because she had something to say to Eindel.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

As a parent to a teacher, only the two necessary words, as she did so, Eindel smiled faintly.

“Thank you. For letting me meet this child.”

That was the end of it.

We moved away, and the whispers that were uttered there afterward were mixed with the wind and could not be heard.

* * *

Shupert had a very long nightmare.

It was so painful, a dream that made him cry and struggle.

He couldn’t even remember how it ended.

But if there was one thing he could say for sure, it was that what he saw after waking up from that dream was a sight that could not be dismissed as a nightmare.

“Master…?”

Shupert’s eyes wavered.

In the middle of the white snowfield, in front of a bonfire that did not go out even in this biting wind, Eindel was sitting alone.

It was a face he had longed to see.

The moment he faced it, tears welled up.

He mumbled something.

Then Aindel spoke.

“You’re awake. You rascal, I told you to fix your habit of oversleeping, but you still haven’t.”

His chuckling was just like back in the academy.

But Shupelt couldn’t laugh.

Aindel was different in many ways from what he remembered.

Setting aside the fact that he couldn’t see ahead and was staring into the void, through the tattered shirt, the flesh of the homunculus clutching his heart was visible.

As someone who had co-designed that, how could he not know what it was?

Shupelt tried to get up.

But Aindel gently pressed his chest and laid him back down.

“You’re not in good condition. Stay lying down.”

“Master, but…!”

“I said lie down.”

His tone was firm.

As if he wouldn’t allow any rebuttal, only then could Shupelt recall the things he had done. From the distant past, to the things he had done to save Aindel.

And even seeing him before losing consciousness.

“Master… I…”

“I know. So don’t speak. Doesn’t it hurt? So just lie down and talk to me.”

Aindel scratched his palm with his fingernail, drawing blood.

He took out flasks and reagents from his bosom and organized them one by one, mixing the blood with them.

In the midst of that, something was visible.

“Beep—!”

It was Number 4. The smallest homunculus they had made together, only the size of a palm, but the most diligent one.

That little one was helping Aindel make the reagents.

In the midst of that, Aindel asked a question.

“You did something you weren’t supposed to. Seeing the result, what do you think?”

It was a gentle admonishment.

Aindel always used this tone when he was seriously scolding.

Shupelt didn’t say things like he wanted to save his master or thought he could do it.

Because he himself had realized that it was an impossible task.

It was impetuousness. It was arrogance, and even if there were factors that incited it, they were ultimately incidental. It was indeed his own fault.

Shupert responded with a devastated heart.

“…I’m sorry.”

It was at that moment.

Shupert felt his eyes well up with tears.

The moment he uttered the words “I’m sorry,” countless truly regretful memories flooded his mind.

“I’m sorry. I…”

Wasn’t it so?

From the beginning, he had done all those things to convey these words.

Once the words started flowing, they continued solely on that matter.

His voice began to tremble.

Eventually, tears started streaming down his cheeks.

The words continued.

Listing them one by one, there was no end.

Though he was entranced, he remembered, because after Rebecca’s death, it was more than anything his own will.

“I, I…”

He muttered alone for a long time about the things he was so sorry for, the things he wanted to apologize for.

Even after pouring it out, he couldn’t calm down.

At such a time, Aindel spoke.

“It’s fortunate. That you realized it. Admitting one’s own fault is the hardest thing. You have accomplished that. Now, lift your head.”

The gentle words were forgiveness.

Even that felt so guilty that he took a moment to compose himself.

Only after that did Shupert lift his head.

It was at that moment.

Shupert’s breath stopped.

“…Master?”

“There is nothing more to teach. Now truly…”

“What are you doing?”

A reagent that Shupert could not fail to recognize was hanging before his eyes.

His heart stopped with a thud.

“What do you think? It’s the medicine you know.”

I knew. I asked because I knew.

White crystalline grains in red and blue liquid.

That was the medicine that exchanged life.

The very medicine that Shuperto devised after Aindel’s death, to give half of his remaining life to Aindel.

Aindel held it dearly and spoke.

“It’s so excellent that it’s hard to believe it’s your first personal research. I’m so proud of you, Shuperto.”

At the words of praise, Shuperto spoke in a trembling voice.

“…No. Don’t do it.”

Because he realized what Aindel was trying to do.

* * *

Life is equal.

Not a story of value, but a more physical and calculative result.

Grass, humans, and all uses are the same life.

No matter how small, life cannot be ‘created’ in the concept of life.

So creation is a forbidden wish.

But when a life that has already been created is about to extinguish, fixing it is different.

This research was clearly conducted with that in mind.

“If there are two injured things, they can be combined. The idea is that if something is about to extinguish because it lacks firewood, you can combine the firewood to make a complete fire. It’s a reagent that forces sacrifice, but it’s amazing that you can save something through sacrifice. You are one step closer to the forbidden wish.”

No one has ever implemented the act of rekindling the flame of a dying life.

There were those who hypothesized and conducted related research, but this was the first time it was realized in a practical form.

Moreover, it did not borrow external power.

As a reagent alone, it was a complete result of alchemy.

Indeed, Shuperto borrowed external power not to create the environment to use this reagent.

If it weren’t for the illusion that he was dead, this would have functioned as a perfect reagent in alchemy.

Shuperto was the first.

To add praise, he was the first alchemist to step into the forbidden wish of life since history.

He achieved this at the mere age of fifteen.

“Please, please don’t do it…!”

Shuperto struggled.

Aindel used all his remaining strength to press him down.

And so he added persuasion.

“This is the only way. We can’t both die.”

“We can live! If you take mine instead…”

“You will not live beyond ten years. And even then, you will barely be able to walk properly, living those ten years in a crippled body.”

“It’s okay! We can research anew during that time! We can do it together, Master!”

At times like this, one realizes.

Shupert was a child.

A child who still wanted to keep something by his side, even if it meant being unreasonable, a child who was not at all accustomed to losing things.

There was a feeling of guilt for leaving too soon.

But, even so, there was something that had to be conveyed.

“Shupert.”

“Master, please!”

“Shupert, my disciple.”

Aindel moved his hand with difficulty and stroked Shupert’s forehead.

“Don’t do this. You must not give up your potential because of me.”

“No! Why should I?”

“Because I am your master.”

With a thud, Shupert’s body froze.

Aindel added one more thing.

“Because I have dedicated my life for your potential.”

Young Aindel hated his master.

The more grown Aindel thought his master was insignificant.

And so the aged Aindel thought.

He did not want to become like him.

He did not want to become like those who had brought this discipline to decline.

It was ambition, conviction, and a dream.

“I told you too, didn’t I? Just as you have a wish to make flowers bloom in the snowfield, I too have such a wish.”

Aindel asked.

“Shupert, what is the reason knowledge is great?”

“`

“……”

“Go ahead and speak. Haven’t I emphasized this enough?”

A sob tickled Aindel’s ears.

Fortunately, Shuperte did not forget the answer.

“…Because it can be passed down. Because it can continue.”

“Yes, that is greatness.”

Scholarship is soil.

Plants that sprout on that soil thrive, create more seeds, and those seeds spread to sprout plants on wider lands, that is prosperity.

Alchemy forgot that.

Their selfish desires froze the soil where the sprouts would grow, and thus came the decline of scholarship.

“Do not make me become like them.”

He gave up being selfish and met Shuperte.

He was able to plant a tree that would grow bigger than anyone else.

Isn’t that enough?

“So send me. If you take just one more step for me there… yes.”

As long years passed, someday, when he too would fade away.

“Teach many children so that the alchemy of the great alchemist Shuperte and his master Aindel will not be forgotten.”

Shuperte no longer said he didn’t want to.

He simply answered with a sob, which was a clear affirmation.

Only then did Aindel mix his blood with Shuperte’s in the reagent.

He slowly poured it into Shuperte’s mouth.

He sensed it was the end.

He bid farewell.

“Thank you. For becoming my pride.”

Thump, thump.

His heart gradually stopped.

From the moment Shuperte swallowed the reagent, the remaining life was drawn to him.

But it wasn’t painful.

Even the chest pain that had tormented him every day since that day was now fading away.

At some point, thud, the reagent was buried in the ground.

“`

At that moment, Aindel felt a hand touch his back.

He felt someone embrace him.

Shortly after, a very small, almost sobbing whisper arose.

“…I love you.”

Aindel’s lips curled up slightly.

Ah, yes. This is the kind of death I had wished for.

I wanted to leave everything behind so that I wouldn’t regret anything.

Realizing this, a sense of peace settled on Aindel’s face.

It was the most peaceful smile he had ever shown in his life.

The wind brushed past.

The boy held the old man in his arms for a long time.

It was to remember the warmth for as long as possible.

He engraved him in his heart, never letting go.

Only then did he lift his head.

What the old alchemist had kindled in the middle of the snowy field was a boy who would one day make flowers bloom in this snowfield.