The Good Teacher

A/N: I censor my swear words just cuz I was participating in the WSA. Since that is over, I am open to continuing my work clean or writing explicitly. Just let me know in the comments or in my Discord server. If you guys are open to the latter (i.e. without censoring) I will be able to explore a few different themes that wouldn't be possible when writing clean.

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When someone skirts through life without a single speedbump, it is often the case that they assume they will never hit one in the future. Most individuals experiencing such an unhindered life tend to grow arrogant and proud. Those born with such a gift by circumstance tend to wear this pride and arrogance externally, others awarded such a gift through chance or luck hide it deep within while covering it up with a facade of nonchalance and humility. However, one fact remains constant amongst these two breeds of individuals, when one day they collide against an immovable wall of impediment, the hubris coursing through their veins bursts magnificently, cracking through the veneer wrapping their fragile ego.

"Damn it! F**k!" Myron screamed out loud in exasperation.

"Just who is that kid?" That detail still bugged Myron to no end. The boy named Kano had essentially popped up out of nowhere. No matter how hard Myron tried to dig into the boy's identity, he kept running into dead ends.

"F**K!"

Just when he thought he got one over Goran, a little anomaly he never accounted for slid in and spoiled EVERYTHING!

"Just where did he come from?" Myron collapsed into a defeated squat and scratched his head in annoyance.

Myron was born with everything anyone could ever ask for. Money? He had loads of it! Power? He was a scion of the Rasmus Clan, the only group with more power than them in the Empire were the Dukes' and the Emperor's clan itself. Love? He didn't care for that... but he had that in spades as well!

Yet, even with all of this, he kept losing against Goran!

Myron's ego bubble had burst years back after his public loss against Goran in the contest to decide the next clan leader. Coincidentally, it also happened to be the time when he felt he was at his peak. He was strong, he had all the backing of the clan, he had it all! And then... he lost everything, in one fell swoop. Myron couldn't accept that. He couldn't, because his heart didn't want to recognise that he - the man who had everything - lost to Goran - who had nothing! Because Myron knew, deep down in his heart, that if he recognised his loss, it meant that he was worthless and that everything he grew up believing was all a lie. Of course, Myron wasn't conscious enough to make those logical connections. He was moving based purely on the human instinct to absolve all blame off oneself and offload it onto others. That is, create a straw man that embodies all of your insecurities and weaknesses, and attack it until satisfied.

Myron curled his hands into a shaking fist, raised it towards the skies and declared that he would get back at Goran for this slight. The passerby simply ignored him as the rambling of a mentally unwell individual.

However, he wasn't the only one going through such a breakdown. On the other side, in the alley neighbouring the Artist's Guild, Jo Way was going through a similar process.

"F**K! Who does that old man think he is?!" He spat out a mouthful of clotted blood as his body expunged the remnants from his still-healing internal injuries. "I won that duel! How dare he treat me like this?"

Referring to the two types of individuals from before, Jo Way was evidently the latter kind. He was foisted with a powerful ability following his transmigration, one which he had taken for granted. It had awarded him a subjectively worry-free lifestyle. He hadn't done much in his previous life to deserve this, that was a fact, although Jo would argue otherwise. He may claim that he had to drag himself through mind-numbing, arduous work every day in his past life. He may claim that his chance at a second life and the game-breaking special ability that came with it was well-deserved after suffering through an "unfair" life.

But Jo knew, deep down, that he was standing on thin ice. He was thrown into a world completely unlike his own and was forced to live amongst people wielding unimaginable power that could crush him in a heartbeat. Yet he had confidence through some feeble reasoning that his "system" would carry him to new heights. And after a few minor victories with the help of the system, his earlier assumption was simply augmented.

'I am invincible! With this system, I can become the strongest being in this world!' Although Jo didn't say this out loud and didn't think it explicitly, his subconscious mind had borne this mentality.

Jo became callous. Where he expected life to be a smooth ride, an unexpected pebble had materialised and caused his entire vehicle to overturn. It was downright embarrassing. He should have just kept quiet, but when he saw the crowd wavering back then, something inside him cracked.

Through experience, Jo had somehow realised that things transpired in a certain order. He would get challenged, and he would overcome the challenge. It could be thought of as going over a hill, the difficult part came first in going uphill, but once the peak was scaled going downhill was merely an afterthought. That's how it had always been.

Yet this time, it plateaued.

The sudden detour caught Jo by surprise. Humans are anything but creatures of habit, and if something deviates from their expectations then by default they enter fight or flight mode. Jo wasn't intimidated by the little kid "challenging" his success, so there was no need for flight. He went up in arms to rebut the kid's declaration by instinct, but he never expected that the mere boy had an insane backer. Jo wasn't idiotic enough to go up against someone two levels above him, yet his oversight led him to bang his head against a wall.

'W-wait a minute...' Jo suddenly realised that the events that transpired earlier had a similar cadence to a few events he'd witnessed earlier in this life.

'D-did I just become... the "Young Master"?!' Jo's entire worldview shattered. He quickly shook his head to deny that blasphemous statement.

"Right! It was all that Keegan Lang's fault! And that kid! Stupid system!" Jo had found his straw man- men! He silently swore that he would retaliate this wrong a hundredfold!

[*Tsk* Is this all you can do? Huh? Whine, whine, whine all day?]

'Huh? System, you're here?!'

Silence.

'System!'

"System!"

No dice!

Amidst his rage-filled curses towards the system, Jo suddenly recollected a key piece of information from before.

"Guy Larks!" Jo remembered hearing that name somewhere earlier. After clearing his mind of all disruptions, he managed to unearth it from its deepest recesses. "Right! It's that Guy!"

The man who happened to be this body's friend when he transmigrated. He was also the very same Teaching Apprentice he was placed against in the first match at the tournament. In fact, Jo nearly lost to Guy that time if not for his Disciple's timely breakthrough with perfected resonance.

"It's him again..."

Jo had an inkling early on that maybe he wasn't the only one who had transmigrated into this world. This was supported by the fact that there was a glaringly empty entry in the library under Markus' name.

'Unknown.' For a system that labelled itself as omniscient, this word meant that either it was lying, or that the target was not from this world. The system had yet to fail him, so he was inclined to trust it even though the circumstances behind him receiving it was still a bit sketchy. Thus, by deduction, there was an anomaly.

Markus wasn't a transmigrant, that fact Jo had already confirmed way back. After hitting a dead end there, Jo dropped his investigation because he felt like it wouldn't lead anywhere.

But now, upon hearing the name Guy Larks again, Jo's interest was reignited. He had to know if Guy Larks was also like him!

He just HAD to!

____

"What do you see?"

"I don't know. A red dragon?"

"No, you idiot! Remember what Artist Reva said, look deeper."

"I... really don't know... why don't you help me out?"

"Hehe, I don't know either..."

"Isn't it interesting that the boy was able to recreate an extremely lifelike facade of a red dragon, given that he hasn't witnessed one in real life?" An authoritative voice interrupted the two bickering observers.

"A-Artist Lang!"

"Look at these confident strokes, the artist had no uncertainty about the appearance of the beast at all as though they'd observed it personally, downright felt its scales even. And the bold usage of colours and shades, although they're of poor quality, they are faithful," Keegan continued.

"A-Artist Lang?" One of the artists spoke meekly. "Have you seen a red dragon before?"

Keegan smirked proudly and answered, "I have! And it looked exactly like the one right in front of you. Well, that's an exaggeration. It appeared similar, but the feeling- the aura it exuded was exactly the same. Right now, as I am looking at this painting, I can actually feel myself staring down the eyes of a red dragon."

"But that would mean..."

"Yes, this painting has reached level three. In fact, it is close to breaking into level four territory! It's crude and lacks finishing, but it's there alright! And as you know, to reach level three, it is not just necessary to paint a subject, one must also capture the immaterial tethered to it. To do this, one needs to be intimate with the subject they're painting."

"Can't he have just copied another's work?" The other artist blurted out, receiving a pointed glare from the first artist.

"You two should be knowledgeable enough to know the answer to that stupid question," Keegan snorted disdainfully.

"Given that the artist didn't copy someone else's work, AND that he hasn't witnessed a red dragon in real life. I can only assume that he was exposed to it through books and literature. Furthermore, the artist revealed that he has difficulty reading, yet he managed to create a realistic replica of a red dragon through his painting which indicates that he has an overpowering imagination and a high level of empathy. If I was to extend it further, the boy's mind can see without his eyes having seen them! Isn't that just great?"

Keegan observed the two artists enter a trance as they digested everything he'd just said. He revealed a faint smile before turning to leave. This was his third viewing of Kano's painting, and with each viewing, he was surprised to learn something new in the work. Although the painting was immature in its conception, there was great potential hidden in it just waiting to be unearthed.

Keegan smiled as he exited the exhibition hall. Along the way, he walked past the Guild Manager's office to pick up his cautiously wrapped painting. It wasn't that no one offered to purchase his work, but rather he felt that making a sale was unnecessary. After moving past his subconscious mental block, a huge burden was unloaded from him. With it, Keegan lost the wheedling sensation that urged him to earn more money.

"I guess I have enough now, right?" He inquired mirthfully as he left the guild building, a satisfied expression blooming on his face for the first time in his life.