Buena Village sat at the northernmost edge of the Fittoa Territory. As an important crop-producing region, road repairs had long been a yearly tradition to facilitate transport.
The road they traveled on was a wide, smooth dirt path—wide enough for two carriages to ride side by side.
On sunny days, the carriage ride would barely jostle at all.
But right now, the downpour hadn't stopped, and it had been raining for a while.
The road was a muddy mess.
And the carriage shook violently.
So violently that strands of Sylphie's white hair whipped about, brushing against Allen's cheek with every bounce.
Sylphie had used Doton (Earth Magic) to fix the candle on the table, but even then, the flame wouldn't stop flickering.
She was nearly sitting on Allen's lap.
Meanwhile, Eris had already dozed off in the lap of the cat-eared beastmaid, resting peacefully in that soft embrace—contentedly surrounded by the fluffy scent she adored.
She slept like a baby.
Allen did his best not to let his eyes wander toward the swaying tail of the beastmaid, focusing instead on the top of Sylphie's head, trying to organize his thoughts for what was to come.
Sylphie, on the other hand, could feel Allen's burning gaze. Like a little quail, she shrank her head into her chest and stared only at their touching knees, which kept bumping with the motion of the carriage.
Maybe it was the time of day, but her mind was growing foggier by the minute, like she was drifting among the clouds.
She clearly could've used a simple Fūton (Wind Magic) spell to wrap herself in air and pin herself to the carriage seat, stopping her knee from wobbling, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't summon the mental command to activate her magic.
So she just let her knee keep brushing against Allen's.
Then pulling away.
Then brushing again.
'921.'
That was the number of times their knees had touched.
"Hey, Sylphie, are you not feeling well? You've had your head down since this afternoon."
'92?'
!!!
Sylphie stiffened and shot upright, immediately tensing her legs and pressing them tightly together in front of her. Her mental count froze at 922.
She was suddenly sitting perfectly still—and her magic control returned at once!
"N-no! I'm fine, Allen!"
Allen had noticed that Sylphie had gone unusually quiet since her crying spell that afternoon. He looked down at her curled-up figure and her soft white hair, blinking.
"That's good to hear. Want to take a nap?"
Sylphie blinked in confusion.
"A nap?"
"Yeah. Roa is still several hours away. You could sleep like Eris."
Sylphie lifted her gaze across the carriage.
'Eris is asleep… in that cat-eared onee-san's lap… If I were to sleep like that, then where…'
Allen's chest flashed past the edge of her vision, and her reddish-brown eyes trembled.
"I-I-I'm not sleepy!!"
Her soft voice quivered with panic!
Across from her, Eris stirred from the noise, rubbed her eyes, and shifted positions before falling back asleep.
The carriage fell silent for a while before Allen replied.
"Oh. Then don't sleep. Staying awake's fine too."
Only after hearing Allen's usual calm tone did Sylphie relax from her stiff state.
"…Okay."
Her knees began bouncing again.
But Allen wasn't focused on that anymore.
A breeze blew in through the window, lifting the curtains and sending shattered raindrops drifting into the cabin.
'System—task progress check.'
A smoky interface appeared.
[Assessment (1/2), Countdown: 16:49:23. Task reward: Participation Score: 5 points.]
[Achievement: Earned the proper reverence a younger sister should have for her older brother.]
[Task Reward: Divine Strike Magic Slot—Unlocked.]
[Eris: Countdown—40:41:07. Upon completion, unlocks Divine Strike Magic Slot.]
Allen's gaze drifted over the time remaining.
'Only 16 hours left in the assessment… System timers are never meaningless. Based on what I've confirmed—'
'Philip's test for me was one of "ability." That was confirmed by the system, and he even stated it clearly during our rainy conversation. He was satisfied with my potential and wants to personally mentor me, to raise me into a capable "politician" to join him in the capital's political arena.'
'But before coming here, he didn't expect much from me at all—just a punk known for his brute strength at the Water God Dojo. That's why he only set up a few small variables, hoping to observe my reactions to judge my "capability." The fact I exceeded his expectations was a pleasant surprise.'
'So then, based on that, the primary test wasn't really about "ability."'
Philip's words echoed in his mind.
"Allen. I know just how talented you are with the sword. Don't sell yourself short—your strength alone will be a huge asset."
Allen narrowed his eyes, reaching a conclusion.
'It's a test of strength—or more precisely, swordsmanship.'
With that, Allen pulled back the curtain and glanced at the two carriages behind them.
'The fourth carriage feels suspicious. It only has one beastmaid and is supposedly for our luggage. But we don't need a whole carriage for a few bags. If she were moved to Eris's carriage, then that fourth one would be completely empty…'
Thinking this through, Allen turned toward the cat-eared maid across from him and smiled gently.
His voice was also calm and pleasant.
"Excuse me, miss. I have a question for you."
The cat-eared beastmaid twitched her ears, surprised that Allen had suddenly addressed her. Sylphie also jumped in shock and sat up ramrod straight again.
Eris, always a light sleeper, had already stirred once. Now, hearing Allen's clear voice, she muttered groggily, "So noisy…"
At the same time, Allen asked—
"Where is Ghislaine?"
The beastmaid's smile froze.
At the mention of Ghislaine, Eris shot upright.
"Huh?! Ghislaine's here?!"
She bolted upright from the maid's lap and looked around frantically—but there was no sign of Ghislaine anywhere.
"What are you all playing at…"
Wind whipped the curtain again.
From the beastmaid's expression, Allen had already gotten the answer he needed.
He turned toward the dark, rain-soaked night beyond the window. And from the next carriage over—
A gaze met his own.
Philip's gaze.
A sensation of being watched—straight from the teachings of the Water God Style.
Even through the heavy veil of rain, Allen could feel Philip's "observation."
He wore his usual half-lidded expression, looking calm and composed.
As the curtain danced, distant shadows surged toward them.
That was…
The forest in the rain.
No time left.
This arc has been building for a while, with so many threads and setups that writing it is making me feel like dying.
(End of Chapter)
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