How to Live as a Martial Arts Writer in a Fantasy World

41 – 41. It Was Him

41.

“He refused the mission to the end.”

In the dark room.

The silver-haired girl, Layla, who bore the mark of a slap, spat out a mixture of blood and saliva. Unable to glare back at the man who slapped her, her eyes fell to the floor.

The way she hung from the chains that bound her arms, she must have been beaten quite a bit.

“Why did you refuse the mission, Zahir?”

Layla gave no answer.

“Answer me.”

The man stepping towards her forced Layla’s head upwards, grasping her chin.

Looking into her sharp glare, the man smirked repulsively.

“The church has done more than one thing for you. You should know that.”

Layla kept her mouth shut.

The man forcibly turned Layla’s face away from herself and back towards him.

“Tell me, Layla Zahir. What do you think is the reason the church accepted a half-breed with the barbarian tribe from the east’s blood mixed in?”

Layla still did not answer.

The man rough slapped Layla’s cheek. Blood poured from her mouth as she lowered her head as though her mouth split open.

“Puts quite a spin on things, doesn’t it? Answer the question, Layla Zahir, you half-breed with Osirian blood.”

“…I told you I didn’t want to.”

“Ha ha!”

Laughing as if dumbfounded, the man grabbed Layla’s chin.

“You, half-breed, don’t have a right to choose. From the moment your parents handed you over to our church.”

At the man’s words, Layla bared her teeth in a grin.

Her pearly white teeth were being stained a bloody red.

“I’m the only member of the lectern in the Academy. Do you know how hard it is to get that position?”

At Leila’s retort, the man’s face hardened.

“This b*tch…”

“Enough. Avoid needless damage.”

At the voice behind him, the man’s firm hold on Leila’s jaw slackened and released.

With great difficulty, Leila raised her head. In her line of sight, a small figure dressed in a black robe entered the room. A metal plate attached near his shoulder caught Leila’s eye.

“An Executor…?”

“It seems you can still recognize an Executor. Indeed, to that extent, you have to be observant, Leila Zahir.”

The Executor in a black robe, who was smaller than her, spoke while looking at grimacing Leila.

In his hand, he held a single book.

“I have obtained the manual of Allan Edga von Muller’s swordsmanship. I don’t know how helpful it will be, but it’s quite an interesting thing. The leader seemed to be intrigued. The Clan of Anger will probably like it.”

Leila gritted her teeth.

The Clan of Anger is the most aggressive clan in the Graphite Order, they’re responsible for nurturing the Black Knights who wield the military power of the Order.

To have obtained Allan’s swordsmanship manual from such a place…

‘This isn’t good…!’

The executor smiled.

“It seems you’ve grown attached to something that you’ve personally created, Zahir. You have the ability to reproduce pictures vividly just by reading the text. Should I call it talent? Of course, it’s merely a less potent version of the leader’s ability.”

The small executor slowly approached and stood in front of Leila.

“That’s why you can’t leave the Order, Leila Zahir. Your ability is necessary for the Order – to recover forgotten magic, and the martial arts that my venerated ancestors and those Koonlun bastards want to recover. Ultimately, a transaction can only be established if you are there.”

The small Executor burst into laughter while looking at Leila’s distorted face.

“There is a place for you in the Bertha Academy. Go back and regularly report the trend.”

Grinding her teeth, Leila glared at the Executor.

The executor laughed heartily as he turned around. His unpleasant laughter echoed in Leila’s ears.

“That’s your duty, Leila Zahir.”

***

“There was an intruder in Allan’s dormitory?”

“Yes, principal. We are doing our best to search for the suspect…”

“You must catch them. This incident worsens the academy’s reputation.”

The principal of the academy was a wizened old man.

Just like the wrinkles on his face, the old man had aged graciously. Despite his mild-mannered personality, when enraged, he was fearsome beyond anyone’s control.

“Regarding Duke Mueller?”

“It seems the news hasn’t reached him yet, but if it does, there’s a possibility that a similar incident to the last time may occur.”

“He might have to take action directly, then.”

“Yes. The problem is, we don’t understand why he would deliberately orchestrate such an event.”

The chancellor frowned, furrowing his brow.

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“In any case, hurry. We must take action before Duke Mueller moves.”

“I will hurry.”

***

“… We lost them?”

“Sorry, Lord Allen. The surveillance spirits have been completely neutralized. They’ve been almost erased, which makes tracking traces difficult…”

Diabella repeatedly bowed her head, seemingly truly apologetic.

Allen scratched his cheek.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Diabella. It’s the bastards who sneaked into my room and stole the martial arts script.”

“Has anything happened to the fourth volume manuscript…?”

“Not that, I’m almost finished with the fourth volume.”

Allen sighed.

“I should have burned that martial arts script instead of keeping it.”

“It’s too late for regret now.”

“Don’t rub salt into the wound, Maia. It hurts.”

“Truth always hurts, or so I have learned.”

At Maia’s blunt remark, Allen shook his head in displeasure.

Diabella said,

“Given that even the traces of magic have been perfectly erased, it seems to be the work of an expert. It doesn’t bode well.”

“I have no idea what the hell is going on since the beginning of the semester.”

“Lord, please mind your language. It’s beneath your dignity.”

“I wish I didn’t have to say it. The situation has gone sideways.”

Allen sighed, unfolding the newspaper.

The fastest way to get information on the Roseria continent is the newspaper. It carries a wide variety of stories.

What Allen was reading was not the academy campus newspaper, but the Imperial Road newspaper.

“The third volume has been out for a while. I wonder if its impact is still there.”

The Imperial Newspaper not only covers stories from the Empire but also from the Western United Federation and the Northern Prizt Kingdom.

It is something of an international news agency.

The disappointing part is they cannot get news from Kunlun, nor can they find out what reactions are coming from Osrian.

Understandably, Allen knows this too.

He had heard that up until a few decades ago, Kunlun had been hostile, and Osrian, while currently not at war, still maintains a hostile stance with the Empire.

This would explain the fierce backlash it received from the Empire’s literary circle.

“Really, it’s just one headache after another.”

Allen turned the page of the newspaper.

Diabella said,

“Hey, Allen. So when is the fourth volume coming out?”

“I’ve nearly finished the manuscript. It will be out soon. It was delayed a bit as I was helping the juniors for the contest.”

“Didn’t you say that event didn’t mean much to you, Allen? Did you meet any new people?”

“I did meet someone, Raida von Princeton.”

“You met her? How was she?”

In response to Diabella’s question, Allen folded the newspaper.

“Well, I’m not certain yet. I can’t understand why Lenox is hanging around me. I don’t feel she’s deliberately trying to get close to me.”

“New encounters often lead us to new stories.”

“A librarian-like phrase.”

At Allen’s words, Diabella smiled faintly.

Allen folded the newspaper and put it on his knee.

“Soon the fourth volume will be out too. It’s bound to get noisy again, isn’t it?”

***

What should a writer do?

Write. Whether they have time or not, whether they are working on several pieces at once, the main job is to write enjoyable prose.

Struggling with various matters, Allen felt that combining academic work with writing was synonymous with suicide.

-When is the next volume out?

-It’s absurd that orcs use the Orl language. Please correct this!

-Do you happen to be interested in the culture of Osrian?

Allen gets a pile of questions every time he attends a lecture.

Fortunately, Felicia and Lynn are always at his side, so the majority of these questions are heard directly in the cafeteria.

What a genuinely annoying matter.

Then, today, I encountered a perplexing character in the restaurant.

“Leila Princeton?”

“…Von Princeton.”

Leila, carrying a tray, casually sat across from Allen.

She seemed indifferent to the strange glance Maia was giving her from behind him.

“I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you happen to be looking for someone to draw illustrations?”

“Illustrations?”

At the unexpected topic from Leila, Allen’s eyes slightly widened.

He hadn’t ignored the idea of adding pictures to help readers understand, like a light novel, or even inserting illustrations.

However, he hadn’t acted on it thinking the timing wasn’t right.

But him thinking it was peculiar for Leila to bring it up first.

“Miss Princeton is currently taking artistic classes as a minor in the humanities department, sir.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Allen’s acquaintance with Leila was relatively recent.

So, it only made sense that he didn’t know much about her.

“Illustrations….”

Allen chuckled lightly.

Though it was a sudden concept, it felt like a puzzle piece fitting in.

The report of Leila hovering around him, and her abrupt question about illustrations.

It felt forced, but it also felt like the puzzle fit subtly well.

I understand who drew the swordsmanship in an illustration.

‘It’s you, Leila von Princeton.’

A slight gleam appeared in Allen’s eyes.