Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
At seven forty in the morning, the small town was graced with a rare overcast sky. Eleven boys, around eight or nine years old, stood on the playground, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their new mentor. However, Black Duncan had announced that he would arrive at eight o'clock, and it was only just seven forty-two. The boys were already in disarray, some chasing each other while others lay down on the ground, fast asleep.
"Dostodoro, is this really a good idea?" the chubby boy Lanya seemed a bit worried.
"Heh, no problem at all. Just do as I say," Dostodoro replied, a blade of grass sticking out of his mouth. "I've already informed Rody and Layton. No matter how capable this newcomer is, he can't possibly match the four of us working together."
Leading the group were Dostodoro, Rody, Layton, and the chubby Lanya—the so-called "highest commanders" among the children. Each of them came from a prominent family; some were among the few wealthy merchants in town, while others were direct descendants of officials from the Baron organization. As for their leader Dostodoro, he was the grandson of Mayor Tutulu.
In short, once these four children teamed up, even the most notorious ruffians in town would think twice before confronting them.
"They agreed too?" Lanya's eyes lit up, revealing a relieved smile.
Before long, two men approached from the entrance not far away. On the left was Black Duncan, and on the right was Garen, dressed in a black coat.
As they stopped at the playground, it was precisely eight o'clock.
"Form a line!"
Black Duncan glanced at the lazy group with a slight frown. It wasn't until the last reluctant boy returned to line up that he spoke in a booming voice, "This is Sir Garen, your new Fighting Spirit mentor!"
"Garen!" At that moment, a boy with deep brown hair raised his hand.
Black Duncan shot him a glare and shouted, "Show some respect! Call him 'Sir'!"
Garen waved his hand and smiled, asking, "Is there anything you need help with?"
The boy hugged his arms tightly, his expression serious. "I'm a bit cold. Can you lend me your jacket?"
"Of course!" Garen chuckled as he took off his jacket and draped it over the boy's shoulders.
"His name is Rody," Black Duncan said, shaking his head helplessly. "He's eight and a half. I remember he has quite a talent for archery."
Garen nodded and, with Black Duncan's introduction, noted down each student's name. Earlier on their way here, Black Duncan had been worried that these students were too unruly; however, apart from the spirited boy Dostodoro, the other children showed considerable enthusiasm.
"Black Duncan, do you know where Volikov went?" Suddenly, the chubby boy Lanya called out.
"Volikov?" Black Duncan frowned. "Someone like Volikov, who shirks responsibility, is not qualified to be a mentor. You all should study hard under Sir Garen from now on, and you will surely..."
Before Black Duncan could finish his sentence, a ripping sound interrupted him.
Looking in the direction of the noise, they saw that a large tear had ripped open at the hem of Garen's jacket, exposing a mass of white fibers.
"I'm so sorry!" Rody exclaimed in panic as he hurriedly tried to grab the fibers. "I... I was just really cold and wanted to wrap it tighter, but I didn't expect this jacket..."
However, as Rody reached out to grab it, the hole in the jacket only grew larger.
"Eh? Even Rody's strength could tear this... the quality of this clothing is really poor!" In the crowd, Lanya huffed in dissatisfaction. "Instructor Volikov earns 80 silver coins a month, and he's a level 6 warrior. I wonder what level Instructor Garen is..."
Lanya's voice was soft, but it had the effect of "misleading" the others. The children's gazes toward Garen instantly changed, and then someone suddenly laughed, prompting the others to join in mocking.
"Enough!" Black Duncan barked with a stern face. "Silence!"
To these children, Black Duncan clearly held a commanding presence, and the laughter ceased immediately. However, their eyes still held a mischievous glint as they looked at Garen.
Black Duncan quickly retrieved his coat, looking apologetic. "I'm very sorry, Sir Garen. I'll get you a new one another day!"
"It's fine, it's just a piece of clothing," Garen replied with a smile, shaking his head and tying the coat around his waist.
In the crowd, when Dostodoro saw that Garen didn't seem angry, he paused for a moment, then let out a light hum before shifting his gaze to Layton. At the same time, Rody and Lanya were also looking at Layton.
Under the "pressure" of his three companions' gazes, Layton gritted his teeth and quickly pulled something from behind him before running up to Garen.
Layton handed over a water bottle while trying to smile naturally.
"Instructor Garen, this is tea my mom brewed. She heard there would be a new instructor today and specifically asked me to bring it!"
"You must be Layton, right? Thank you, and thank your mother for me."
Garen ruffled Layton's hair and then opened the bottle cap, taking a couple of gulps. However, the bottle only contained Clear Water, not any tea, and had no flavor at all.
Was this also a prank? Garen recalled Black Duncan's assessment of the group of children and couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.
But in the next moment, Garen suddenly sensed something was off. He quickly threw a couple of words at Black Duncan and then strode out of the playground.
"Strange..." Black Duncan scratched his head, looking puzzled.
At that moment, a cold laugh suddenly rang out from the group.
"This kind of super laxative is something even a level six warrior can't withstand. Does he really think he can tough it out?" Dostodoro spat out the grass from his mouth, squinting as he smiled.
"Dostodoro... you!" Black Duncan's face changed dramatically upon hearing this, and he hurriedly ran toward the exit of the playground.
The eleven boys exchanged glances and then burst into laughter.
"Even worse than I imagined. But that's fine... tomorrow, you'll be out of here!" Dostodoro crossed his arms behind his head and smirked.
...
...
The next morning, the gray sky showed no signs of clearing; instead, it felt heavier, as if brewing a storm.
When Black Duncan saw Garen, he noticed that Garen's face was slightly pale. Clearly, even Garen had fallen victim to yesterday's super laxative.
"I'm truly sorry, Sir Garen..." Black Duncan said, his face full of shame, almost unable to face Garen. "Please make sure to accept these gifts; I will definitely teach those little rascals a lesson..."
Garen glanced at the pile of gift boxes at his doorstep and shook his head. "I once told my soldiers that frustration and regret won't solve problems. Instead of dwelling on these feelings, it's better to think about how to confront the issue."
Black Duncan was taken aback, a look of shock on his face. "You... you still want to face those kids?"
Garen recalled yesterday's events. Compared to the soldiers of Demacia, these children were still too naive, merely indulging in pranks.
It was worth noting that there had been soldiers who attempted to assassinate Garen twenty-seven times in total, with two of those attempts coming dangerously close to success.
Garen smiled inexplicably. "Why not?"
"Your generosity truly exceeds my expectations once again!" Black Duncan exclaimed sincerely. "How about I organize a test? Then you can show off a bit during the assessment—perhaps your exquisite swordsmanship or skills in archery and horseback riding. I'm sure with your abilities, you'll win over those kids!"
"Good idea," Garen nodded. "Let's do it this afternoon."
"Great! I'll take care of it right away!" Black Duncan said with an eager smile before quickly leaving the Rental Apartment.
It was only after Black Duncan had exited the door that Garen suddenly remembered something.
It seemed that what Black Duncan mentioned—swordsmanship, horseback riding, and archery—were not exactly his strong suits. In truth, Garen's expertise lay more in leading troops and combat strategies.
In the afternoon, Garen returned to the academy's training ground.
The wide expanse of grass had been set up by Black Duncan, with nine targets arranged on the left side, each about 30 meters apart, totaling 270 meters. On the right side lay various weapons, alongside a brown crystal.
Garen was not unfamiliar with this type of crystal, as it also existed in the Valoran Continent. It was called the "Puppet Crystal," which, as the name suggested, stored a significant amount of magical energy to train Puppets, ensuring ample training resources.
After yesterday's incident, the students looked at Garen with varying degrees of schadenfreude. Their pockets were bulging, seemingly stuffed with spherical objects.
Black Duncan was on the other side checking the safety of the Puppet Crystal while Garen picked up a wooden bow and demonstrated the proper archery stance.
Just as he was about to release his arrow, a soft "thud" echoed as a Water Bag hit Garen's back.
The impact of the Water Bag was not strong; it felt more like a tickle. However, it emitted a strange odor, reminiscent of... ketchup!
Indeed, Garen touched it with his hand and found himself covered in a thick layer of tomato sauce.
Before he could gather his thoughts, another "thud" sounded as a Water Bag burst against Garen's chest, splattering a large amount of black-purple liquid that released the fragrant aroma of blueberry jam.
When Garen turned to look back, the children were all gazing skyward, deliberately feigning ignorance.
At that moment, a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd, "Leave this place and resign from your position; otherwise, you won't be so comfortable."
Garen made no attempt to identify the speaker and calmly replied, "I'm sorry, but this is my commitment to Black Duncan. Frankly, you shouldn't waste his good intentions."
The voice paused for a moment before casually throwing out one word: "Smash."
All the Students pulled Water Bags from their pockets and suddenly filled them with different Sauces. The sound of hissing filled the air as one by one, the Water Bags "popped" against Garen, splattering him with a myriad of colors, making him look like a clown.
Garen did not dodge; instead, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
In fact, until yesterday when he met these kids, Garen had not figured out how to face them. Just as Mayor Tutulu had said the day before, they were just a bunch of kids, not soldiers.
But now, Garen understood.
He slowly turned around, his gentle and warm eyes gradually turning cold, revealing a rare authority. If this gaze were seen by the soldiers of Demacia, they would undoubtedly be terrified, for it signified that the commander was angry.
At the same time, behind the nearest target, Rody was straining to pull back his bowstring, aiming at Garen's backside.
Although this action carried some risk, Rody was only aiming for the rear. In his view, it would at most make the New Mentor lie down and sleep for half a month. Even if something went wrong, with his and his three companions' backgrounds, they could easily handle it.
However, just as Rody released the arrow, his index finger twitched unexpectedly. The arrow trembled slightly, and its angle shifted upward, now aiming not at Garen's backside but at his back.
And at that moment, Garen turned around!
The arrow's target was no longer his back but…
His Heart!
Comment 0 Comment Count