CHAPTER 43: DISCIPLE CULTIVATION SYSTEM CH43 BURDEN.

"Will you die trying?"

Rephrasing her words ones more to help Art understand she was Serious, she stared at him intently.

Art on the otherhand once laid back found himself agitated by her question.

Dying.

Art had died once, the cause still alien to him. He remembered the suffocating pain, the dreadful despair, and, surprisingly, the feeling wasn’t numb to him. He knew death. He understood what it entailed—but could he face it?

"Of course."

His answer was simple.

He didn’t want to die for some "greater good" kind of cause, but if that was the only solution, then he probably wouldn’t hesitate. His role and his system all pointed toward a greater sacrifice.

It was cliché for a mentor-type character to always die protecting the protagonist—and unfortunately for him, his fate seemed to lean that way. He felt strange, how easily he could accept such a scenario, as if something fundamentally human had been stripped away from him. Yet that strangeness also felt right, as if his existence was supposed to be strange.

"I see."

Valerie took in his words, looking up at him, her expression unreadable and her memories flashing back to her childhood.

"So you’re just like them."

Pushing Art’s palms away, she spoke audibly and began walking away. She was clearly displeased, but she was also used to the scenario—people unwillingly choosing the path of sacrificing their lives for her.

Her father. Her mother. That forgotten friend of hers. They had all done it.

They showed no particularly care for their lives and threw them away as if they were replaceable. As if they were robots.

She hated it, but she couldn’t argue against it. No matter what she said, no matter how many times she cried, no matter how much anger she felt—their self-righteousness always won out. In her eyes, the essence of their sacrifice was nothing but pain.

Those whom scarfice their lives merely thought of the good their scarfice held not the burden it brought.

The guilt,the sleepless nights she had as the faces remembered those days.

Her brief conversation with Art had made her realize he was of the same breed. So it would be better if she kept her distance.

She didn’t want another guilty conscience on her soul.

Yes, she was scared. The possibility of being kidnapped again—or worse, killed—by forces she knew nothing about was relatively high. But...

"Better me than someone else."

She was useless anyway.

The teacher, on the other hand, was a one-in-a-million prodigy. His service would be needed in the far future—not hers. Not when she still couldn’t get over the trauma of her dead parents.

"You’re leaving?"

"...Yes."

She paused briefly, arms still hugging herself as she glanced back.

"At least let me walk you to your dorm," Art suggested.

"No... It would be inappropriate."

There was more to it, but she left it at that.

"You were attacked. Until Grim finishes her report with the principal, I’ve been instructed to look after you."

"..."

"I don’t know why you’re suddenly acting cold, but as a teacher, my duty is the safety of my students."

"Cliche much!" she mocked.

"For Miss Grim, I can understand—she’s been in this job for a decade. But you... you’re barely older than me. I doubt you’re as mature as you seem. So why bother with me? Is this for a promotion, or do you want something from me?"

"Yes." Art nodded, raising his arms in surrender. "I do want something from you."

In this world, he needed to leech onto others to gain the strength necessary to survive. As long as his system had no limit on how many students he could nurture, he needed something from every significant individual in it.

To achieve that, he had to manipulate some—or be straightforward.

"What do you want from me, then?"

"That’s for me to know."

Now standing beside her, his demeanor shifted to icy coldness.

"He’s pretending."

Valerie, clearly unfazed by his act, thought to herself. She lacked the skills to read people, but Art was like an open book to her—a book quite familiar to her.

Why she knew him so well was strange, but she already had too much going on in her life to wonder why. Right now, she just wanted him to leave her alone. She didn’t want his protection.

He was self-righteous. Self-sacrificing. And when the assassin returned, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to protect her—just like how he had nearly taken a javelin for her earlier that day.

She didn’t want him to die because of her.

"If something happens to you, Trish will kill me."

"Oh, come on... She’s not that—"

*Scratch that.She didn’t have the nickname "Crazy Swordswoman" for nothing.

While Art doubted Trish would go so far as to kill Val if something happened him, he wasn’t confident she wouldn’t resort to violence either.

"Sigh... It seems whatever I say can’t convince you."

Holding his waist, he heaved an exhausted sigh, lowering his head. His posture showed hints of vulnerability, and for a moment, a glimpse of hope flickered in Valerie’s heart—maybe he’d give up.

But Art was the king of adaptability.

If she wouldn’t follow his request willingly, he’d have to resort to unpleasant means.

"Sleep tight."

Raising his head, his sapphire eyes gleamed with hesitation before turning stern. His hand lifted swiftly—

"You... bas—"

A precise chop to the side of her neck.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, her body went numb, collapsing mid-sentence. Catching her, he pulled her unconscious figure against his chest, his face pale with shock.

"How the heck did that work?"

He had no background in martial arts. Heck, what he’d done was something he’d only seen in movies. The probability of it actually working should’ve been less than one percent.

And yet—

"I can’t believe it."

With Valerie in his arms, a goofy grin stretched across his lips as he stared at the distant sky in disbelief.