Chapter 25 - 3-2
When a single crow returned after crossing the Great Tree Sea, which was like a green magical wilderness, Zarko's heart raced. The black-winged familiar had informed its master, the mage with the eyepatch, of the existence of a child who seemed fit to be a disciple. One-Eyed Zarko immediately prepared his traveling gear and left the solitary house in the forest.
"Gyah, gyah, this way, this way!"
"Stop making such a fuss," Zarko said, forgetting his usual eccentric attitude, letting out a little chuckle at the impatient crow's guidance. "There's no need to rush."
This was the disciple he had waited so long for. Contrary to his words, Zarko's pace quickened.
He imagined it—three thousand years of musty knowledge being folded and tucked away, sheet by sheet, into the fresh and supple mind of a boy not yet ten years old.
Zarko was completely ignorant of the concept of education. When one spoke of One-Eyed Zarko, they spoke of a sage for whom royalty and nobility would pile up gold and silver to beg for teachings, the foremost mage of the current age. Once, he had been a wanderer of the world with no home, a legendary figure who would appear nonchalantly in various lands, leave behind miracles, and then depart.
However, he had never had a family, and he had lived a life with little connection to children.
—It shouldn't be difficult.
Education and child-rearing were things everyone did. There was no reason why he alone could not do it.
Once he left the Great Tree Sea, it was about a four-day walk to Karnain.
The disciple candidate the familiar had found was a "prodigy" taken in by an asylum in Karnain City. The director of the asylum had given him the name Alf Cedar. Zarko asked the owner of a shop he always visited for some liquor and, while he was at it, asked if he knew a child by that name.
"I know of him."
The owner poured the liquor generously, even though he knew Zarko had no money.
"They say he's clever, very clever. He remembers anything at a single glance, and his calculations are frighteningly fast, but he's a creepy child."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed. They say that boy can read people's hearts. He's a child who gives off a nasty feeling."
The owner spoke of other eerie rumors regarding Alf.
"Ordinary people are truly beyond saving," Zarko sneered, drinking the liquor with a gulp. "Rest easy, shopkeeper. I'll teach that boy what manners are."
The shabbily dressed mage slapped his knee, stood up, and visited the asylum. The monk at the asylum pointed Zarko toward the prodigy's location. Alf Cedar was sitting by the roadside among the beggars, separated from the other children. Zarko stepped onto the road and looked down at the child.
Seeing Alf for the first time, he was small and gaunt. Zarko could tell at a glance that he was from the Luwee tribe, a people who wandered the land with nothing but performing arts and charms. Grey hair and grey eyes were their characteristics.
"I hear you can see distant events as if they were right before you, or that you know things about the future. Is that true?"
When asked, Alf nodded with his mouth half-open.
"What about ghosts, reapers, or fairies?"
"If it's dwarves..." he answered in a thin voice.
"Green dwarves?"
"Red dwarves. They said my mother was a victim of a changeling, and that she's still raising a fairy's child, mistaking it for me. That's what he says."
A changeling is a fairy that kidnaps human infants. It is said that they steal the baby and leave a fairy infant in its place.
"That's a lie the red dwarves always tell, so don't listen to it."
"He said my mother is still alive. Is that a lie too?"
"I don't know. More importantly, decide now: come with me and train your power, or stay here and be teased by dwarves."
With his mouth still half-open, Alf gave a suspiciously agreeable answer: "Please let me call you sensei." After speaking with the asylum director, it was decided that he would be taken in. It was as simple as adopting a puppy.
"I was treated very well by the young master of the Syllabus family. I want to say my farewells," Alf said with a vacant expression as they were leaving the city.
Once Alf entered his life of training, he would be unable to return to the secular world for a while. Remembering friends would only prolong the pain. Zarko preemptively taught him the optimal solution.
"Forget them. Consider that such a person never existed."
Alf fell silent and followed obediently.
Eventually,
"Sensei, where are we heading?"
he asked, and Zarko replied that they were going to the depths of the Great Tree Sea. The conversation ceased, and the two trudged south. Suddenly looking back, Zarko found Alf gone. He looked around in a panic. Zarko was the only one on the highway.
He spent a week scouring the nearby towns and villages and found Alf mixed in with a group of seasonal laborers. He pulled the boy by the ear and dragged him back to the road.
"Why did you run away? Why?"
"Why, you ask..."
To ensure he didn't escape again, Zarko made him walk in front of him at all times. Even when entering the forest, Alf seemed hesitant to step inside. Zarko couldn't understand why the boy wore an expression of despair.
"What! What is it!"
"B-because..."
He was terrified. Apparently, he was afraid of the forest. Certainly, there were dangerous beasts in the forest, and evil spirits wandered about.
"Listen, I have subdued every beast and monster in this forest. If I target them, no creature can escape. Not even any magical beast. I will always hunt them down and slay them. If a cornered magical beast commits suicide, I will hunt it down to the deepest part of the bottom of hell and make it regret that it cannot die. Do you think I cannot do that? I, the mage Zarko!"
Zarko lectured him fervently. Alf turned pale, and eventually, he began to scream.
"H-help!"
While completely at his wit's end with the child's incomprehensible reactions, Zarko somehow managed to bring Alf to his dwelling. At this point, he felt that things were slightly different from his expectations.
It was more than just "different." The secret transmission of knowledge from master to disciple that Zarko had imagined was nowhere to be found. What existed was exhaustion, a contest of endurance, and a mountain of disappointment that piled up day by day.
Once the training life began, Alf started returning every single thing Zarko did with rejection.
When instructed to close his eyes and regulate his breathing,
"I don't want to!"
Visualize this figure.
"I don't want to!"
Go fetch some water.
"I don't want to!"
It's time for a meal.
"I'm sick of potatoes!"
Every time he rejected something, he would cry as if barking. Zarko was utterly exhausted.
Zarko realized that when told "I don't want to!", not a single thing progressed. This was far from magical training. What he came up with after racking his brain was the carrot and the stick. While threatening loudly with "I'll punch you!", he would praise the boy if he did what was asked. He thought this method would work, but Alf began to evade Zarko's orders by posing questions.
"Why do I have to do that?"
This was it. Zarko ended up having to explain everything from scratch. Explanations that would have been simple if the opponent had some understanding of magic were grueling when dealing with a child. Even in the middle of an explanation, Alf would interject with questions about trivial details. "Why? Hey, why?" he was noisy. While explaining desperately, Zarko suddenly harbored a suspicion that he might be being fooled.
Could this barrage of questions be a strategy to slack off on training?
—This brat might have been born with an extraordinary malicious heart.
The suspicion took root in a strange direction.
The words the Karnain shopkeeper had said—
—He's a child who gives off a nasty feeling.
He could finally understand those words now.
"To put it bluntly, I think your way of explaining is poor."
The brilliant mage Laje Jink occasionally visited Zarko's hideout.
Although Laje had shaded his face with a complex expression when he first saw Alf, he soon hit it off with the boy.
For some reason, Alf took to Laje from the start. He was taking advantage of Laje's good-natured, kind personality. He had undoubtedly also noticed Laje's clothing, which suggested he had plenty of money. This kind of shallow, monkey-like cleverness in Alf also disappointed Zarko.
"You have to speak simply when dealing with children. They can't understand things like altered consciousness or magical territories."
"I made him my disciple because he was touted as an extraordinary genius, you know?"
"Even if he's a genius, he's still a child. He's surely starving for affection."
Zarko crossed his arms. It had been a very long time since Zarko had dealt with the issue of affection.
It was on a certain stormy night.
The forest raged fiercely in the wild weather. The storm seemed to have settled itself right on top of Zarko's hut. The thunder was incessant, and the darkness of the night, bathed in lightning, felt as if it would shatter and fall apart.
Just as he was beginning to doze off, the bedroom door suddenly opened. Alf dove into Zarko's bedding. He probably couldn't sleep because he was scared. This wasn't the first time. Zarko started to shout and try to drive him back to his own room as usual, but he stopped himself.
Alf was gripping Zarko's sleepwear, as if to prevent himself from being sent back. Perhaps wondering why Zarko said nothing, he opened his eyes.
"It's a terrible storm. If you want to stay here, stay."
The child closed his eyes with a relieved expression.
—So that's how it is.
Zarko reached an understanding and tried treating his disciple sweetly starting the next day. Alf's mood improved instantly. He became attached with ferocious intensity. He followed Zarko wherever he went. Alf knew no limits. His voice and manner of speaking became like that of a spoiled baby.
If this made him more obedient, it would be a victory, but...
"Now, Alf. Shall we begin the meditation practice?"
Even when Zarko used a coaxing voice,
"Ehhh..."
he would wriggle his body and act selfishly. In the end, Zarko would shout, Alf would throw a tantrum, and everything would be destroyed and return to how it was. Nothing progressed. Zarko became haggard.
—What is this?
He couldn't help but ask his own heart.
The existence of a child shakes the dignity of the adult caregiver to its core. It even forces one to make decisions every day that are on the very edge of what is permissible for a human being—Zarko fought hard against the impulse to punch his disciple with all his might. When facing Alf, Zarko was nothing more than a foolish old man.
This is no good. I cannot be just an old man. If I am flustered by such things,
—I cannot save Siddim.
One morning, Zarko saw the dining table cluttered with dishes left after eating. He also saw the mage's robes strewn across the floor. They were the robes Zarko had worn as a youth, which he had passed down to Alf. A simmering, flaming anger burned away all of Zarko's motivation. The old mage sighed. To be honest, he felt like crying.
—It's impossible. I'll return him to the asylum.
Once he decided that, fatigue weighed down on him. Zarko remained seated in his chair, unable to move. Alf did not return by noon, nor did he return after noon had passed. In the emotions that should have turned to ash, the flames of anger began to breathe again. Perhaps he had run away from home.
Alf had run away twice before. In both cases, he had been found immediately. The Great Tree Sea was under Zarko's spiritual dominion. If he closed his eyes and searched for Alf's presence, he could find his location instantly. Zarko searched for the presence as he had before. After ten minutes, he opened one eye. He was in a cold sweat that made his clothes feel heavy. He couldn't find him.
Alf was gone. There was no presence in the Great Tree Sea.
There were two possible occurrences. One, Alf had already left the forest.
That was impossible given the time. The Great Tree Sea was vast; it was impossible to traverse on a child's feet.
Two, Alf had wandered into a barrier set by someone other than Zarko.
Or, perhaps a third could be added. The case where Alf had already lost his life.
With a sharp intake of breath, Zarko leaped out of the hut. Having lived in the tree sea for a long time, Zarko could run through pathless parts of the forest if he set his mind to it. While tree branches scraped his skin, Zarko ran and ran. His destination was a small lake where a stream flowed in. A malicious spirit lived here, luring hunters in to drown them. The spirit had laid a powerful barrier around the lake.
Sure enough, Alf was there. He was submerged up to his chest, heading toward the center of the lake.
'That child is a problem, Roselinde.'
When Zarko called out with his mind, the mist drifting over the lake extended vertically in a small tornado and took the form of a woman.
'This isn't what we agreed, Zarko. Any child who enters my barrier is mine to do with as I please. That was the arrangement, was it not?'
'That child is a different matter.'
'A request I cannot grant.'
The spell reached his lips—but he couldn't chant it. He had a contract with Roselinde.
He screamed, straining his throat. "Alf!"
Alf came to his senses and turned around while submerged up to his neck. His face was pale.
"Alf, remember. I taught you a few spells, didn't I?"
"Sensei, help me!"
"I taught you spells, right? Any of them, just one—"
"Sensei! Sensei! Help me!"
"Alf, I told you. Magic is the technique of choosing which reality to select—"
Despair lay upon Alf's young expression. In the end, no one, no one would save him. He had a face that said he had known that since the moment he was born. The waves of the lake kissed Alf, and
"Sensei, sensei, why... didn't you... come..."
Alf was dragged into the water. Zarko dove into the lake.
'I've been waiting for this moment, Zarko, this inst—'
The form of the lake spirit Roselinde vanished, and the barrier dissolved. Zarko was likely submerged up to his knees. In his field of vision were countless droplets; a mass of water had risen above the lake. Zarko was blown back from the lake. Before he knew it, Alf was standing on the lake's surface. Panicking, Alf ran across the water's surface just like that. Zarko caught his disciple as he collapsed onto the shore. Alf wailed for a while. Water poured down upon the forest like a torrential rain.
"Sensei, I was called, I was called! I've been called for a long time!"
Zarko held his disciple until Alf's chilled body warmed up.
"We had a promise that you wouldn't be teased by spirits or fairies."
"I remembered sensei's spell. Then the water suddenly..."
Zarko was not crying. Or so he thought. However, according to what Alf said later, Zarko had apparently been shedding torrents of tears at that time.
On the way back to the log cabin, Alf looked down.
"If sensei hadn't come, would I have died?"
"Yes."
"If I died, what would sensei think?"
"Nothing in particular." Zarko, who wanted to raise his disciple to a stage where he was indifferent to life and death, answered thus. "All people die."
"Will sensei die too?"
"I will indeed."
After this incident, Alf began to settle down considerably.
Though not exactly as Zarko had idealized, the magical training finally began to move forward. To raise Alf into a first-class mage and crush the ambitions of the monstrous old men. That was Zarko's plan. Those old men would certainly involve Siddim in something strange. That was the future the one-eyed mage had seen.
—I have no choice but to have him fight those people with this small body.
He had no hesitation in this judgment. It should be correct. However, when looking down at Alf, Zarko shuddered at his own meanness.
A child's gaze urges adults to be sensible. It makes them realize their mistakes. Was he really going to make such a small child do something that was even too much for himself?
—But, well, anyway. I'll try to raise him to be a full-fledged adult.
This child needs the power to carve out his own destiny. That much was certain.