Chapter 90 Lying
The bitter aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted into Nova's nose. He lowered his head, stunned for a moment.
The voices of the God-Favoured One and the teacher were so soft that they were hard to hear. The other party had deliberately sent him away, perhaps to ease the atmosphere, something he had never been good at.
...It was a bit strange. This was the first time someone stood up to help him, just like treating a normal human being who would feel embarrassed, awkward, wronged or uneasy due to changes in the external environment.
The black-haired young man stared expressionlessly at the bubbling liquid in the pot - something he had never needed, nor was he considered to need.
Humanity greedily hopes to derive materials from the reactions offered by the material world, thereby reconstructing itself once again. Exhausted yet tirelessly repeating this rebirth, even the pigmented coffee cup in his hand, the boiling water bubbling with white-hot steam, and the coffee beans with the aroma of roasted almonds, honey, and apples, all contribute to the birth of "man"—the world, as always, changes him, regardless of anyone's wishes.
"I'll do it."
A pair of hands reached out from behind him, making no sound at all. The professor was so startled that he nearly knocked over his coffee cup. The other person quickly caught his arm, and Nova suddenly realized that this person seemed much taller than when he first met him. The thinness of the boy gradually faded from him, and the oppressive feeling of an adult man grew stronger.
He simply let go and slipped out of the other person's arm with incredible agility. Seeing the person looking at him in slight surprise, the black-haired young man froze his face and asked, "Have you reached some kind of consensus with the teacher?"
"It's just some idle chat," the God-favored One looked at him helplessly. "When I run out of things to say, won't I just find an excuse to come out and see you?"
——After not going back for such a long time, he almost thought that the other party had drowned himself in coffee.
Nova was silent for a moment: "...The teacher didn't leave."
In his worst-case scenario, he thought the other party would slam the door and leave, and never talk to him again.
"That's right, so we should get out of here quickly," Azuka reminded half-jokingly, "otherwise Mr. Rabelais's angry gaze will penetrate the wall and tear me into pieces."
The other party was stunned for a moment, looking up at him blankly: "I don't understand, why is the teacher angry with you?"
"Don't worry, it's just a joke."
The black-haired young man frowned and looked at him for a while, as if swallowing some particularly harsh words - the other person almost wanted to hug him, like hugging a ball of mist that didn't know where to drift.
Then he looked at his old enemy standing in front of him, was silent for a moment, and suddenly humbly asked him for advice: "Teacher, is he... still sad?"
The other person looked a little uneasy - a real, soft, helpless, human reaction.
Through the savior lens, his old enemy was whispering pitifully to him, "I don't know what to say."
"Just speak your true thoughts at a time like this. There's no need to hide or cover up." He tried to hold back, but couldn't help it. He took the opportunity to quickly rub the other person's head, his voice gentle and soft: "People who love you will be able to tell the difference."
Before Nova could say anything, he was slapped on the back by his teacher, making a loud muffled sound. For the record, while someone was away, the old man quickly occupied the only double sofa in the room.
"Stupid kid!" the other man cursed him angrily, "You're so capable! You even dared to plot against your teacher! You weren't even born when I was playing tricks on those cunning old foxes in Wangcheng!"
Nova stumbled when the slap was made, but he was quickly pulled in front of the old man and examined closely. "Tsk, look at the dark circles under your eyes, your chin is so pointed - this is not the way to seek death. I heard from your teaching assistant that you don't eat or sleep well every day. Are you trying to kill yourself?"
Nova: “…”
Nova: “???”
Someone who took the opportunity to tell on someone else smiled but said nothing.
Next, he was scolded by the teacher. The villain who never lost in a verbal fight stood in silence in front of his mentor. When the other party got tired of scolding him, he immediately respectfully served him some cold coffee.
Rabelais, who was thirsty, took it and drank it in one gulp - then his mouth twitched because of the bitterness, and he had no idea why his beloved disciple liked to drink such a thing.
"You know he's always been a very sensible man."
After he refused some shitty biscuits, a guy with ill intentions looked at him with a smile, his legs casually crossed, his posture soft and relaxed. Although he was young, he exuded a sense of control and nonchalant majesty.
The other party was indeed qualified to be so powerful before the Prophet. A master so powerful that he couldn't even be described as a "young genius," Rabelais even suspected he had already entered the ranks of intermediate or even advanced mages—this couldn't be explained by superior talent, as it completely defied the most basic principles of magic.
You must know that the younger a person is, the more likely they are to resonate, as their essence is still immature. This is why nobles begin enlightenment from childhood. However, during the resonance process, a fragile soul is more susceptible to the influence of ideas. If the resonance is too strong, absorbing too much power, it is very easy to lose reason and become insane.
Most sorcerers slow down their practice after forming a circuit. As they age and their souls become more stable, they can better handle the influence of concepts. Of course, this method is safe enough, but it can only produce mediocrity.
So when people see a young, extremely powerful and seemingly sane warlock, it can only mean one thing - the other party is a dangerous and extremely paranoid fanatic.
The fact that the man called himself a "nonbeliever" was quite intriguing. Rabelais had no idea what the other person's philosophy of resonance was, but the fact that this madman appeared strangely soft and harmless in front of his students made him even more terrifying.
Ordinary people had few channels for accessing knowledge about sorcerer cultivation. Even Rabelais only learned a great deal about the doctrines through discussions with the Pope, thanks to his influence... So, did his students know what they were dealing with? The old man couldn't help but feel worried.
Fortunately, sorcerers regard power as life, and the stronger they are, the more so. After all, the power of ideals has penetrated their souls. Since the man claimed that his students would benefit his cultivation, there was no need to worry too much about him suddenly turning hostile.
...While that's true, this guy is really too "friendly"!
The old man's face darkened as he listened to the other party praising his student harshly, saying things like "mastering the strategies" and "foreseeing things like a god" - this was the first time that Delos Rabelais did not feel complacent or proud when someone praised his beloved student, but instead felt even more horrified.
"You should believe in his seriousness about his dream," the man sighed. "Reasoning will make him cold, but perhaps scolding him for his calculations and offenses will be enough to make him feel a little relieved."
"Talking and doing are two different things," Rabelais sneered. "Although my student has the ability to irritate people, he is inherently too soft—and this softness will kill him."
Having said that, the expression on his face softened a lot.
"You're right, but a soft nature itself is never a bad thing." The other person replied gently and calmly, "He has thoughts that are beyond his time, which has doomed him to loneliness. But those extremely bright things that sparkle with the brilliance of humanity will attract many people who can't help but pursue him. Even I am a moth attracted to the light."
He smiled slightly: "-Besides, I won't let him die."
“…”
Rabelais stared at him deeply. Almost every word this man said hit him right in the heart. He even had the illusion that his emotions were involuntarily fluctuating with his words. But he was also gentle and sincere, with absolutely no mistakes to be found. If he hadn't been wary of people beforehand, he would have warmed to him by now.
If this talent only existed in an ordinary person, then that person might become a politician, businessman, or con man - but what if a strong person who could easily crush most people was also so good at manipulating people's hearts?
Thinking of this, Rabelais couldn't help but glare at the student who was still confused. Where on earth did this damn kid provoke such a monster?
"I want to join." Before the other party could say anything, he interrupted with a cold face: "It doesn't make sense for a reckless brat like you to charge into battle at the front while a teacher like me hides in the safety of the rear - pay attention, I am still your dean, are you trying to make trouble?"
“…I wasn’t being reckless.”
The old man glared at her: "Are you still talking back?"
Nova was silent for a while, but still insisted: "I didn't talk back, nor was I rash."
"This is related to our future plans," he whispered defensively. "I will pay attention to my personal safety, but danger is inevitable, and I need you to protect the seminary while I'm unable to take care of Baita University. This means you must not openly have anything to do with me."
"Of course, private matters are two different things." Seeing his mentor's face darken, he immediately added, "So you can join if you want, but you must listen to me."
"...You really should learn the art of language." The old man glared at him for a moment, almost wanting to hit him again. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he cursed, "If you were even a tenth as cunning as the guy next to you, you wouldn't be so irritating in your words. What's going to happen if you keep treating other people like this in the future?!"
He selectively ignored the fact that he was also a straightforward and stubborn person, and the person who was suddenly affected just blinked innocently.
Then Rabelais saw the young man raise his head and look at him quietly.
"But you are my teacher," the young man whispered. "You are my teacher. I should not deceive you with the same excuses I use to deceive others, nor do I want you to be sad because of my deception."
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