After a brief silence, Allen looked at Eris again, unable to avoid a trace of awkwardness.
He couldn't speak for a while.
It was a strange feeling.
He stayed quiet for a moment, unable to find the right words to describe it. The closest memory he could relate it to was—
The orphanage. Age eight. His true early childhood.
There had been a boy two years younger than him who clung to him every day.
Kids often did that—gravitated toward older children.
Back then, Allen had just returned after being adopted by a couple who later regretted it and abandoned him to have a biological child of their own. His emotions were turbulent and volatile.
Especially that day he returned to the orphanage—just seeing the familiar front gate had triggered such overwhelming turmoil that he felt physically sick.
And on the other side of that gate, the young boy had somehow heard the news and was already waiting there to greet him.
Nearby were several prospective adoptive "parents."
Allen had walked straight over, snatched the candy from the boy's hands—the one he'd always refused to share—and turned to leave.
Sure enough, not long after, he heard crying from behind.
Allen thought, Finally, I got rid of that clingy brat.
But that night, lying in bed, he couldn't sleep—no matter how hard he tried.
The candies sat neatly lined up at his bedside.
He went to look for the boy the next day—didn't find him.
The day after that—still no sign.
Finally, Allen let go of his childish pride and self-righteous intentions and asked a caretaker where the boy had gone.
And received this answer:
"Him? He was adopted. Just the day after you came back. You didn't see him?"
"That kid was usually so stingy, but when he found out you were coming back, he kept saying he wanted to give you some candy. That was so rare."
Allen went silent, staring down at the candy in his hands.
He had received his punishment.
And the boy was never returned.
Good.
That was what he had wanted, right?
Allen blinked and pulled himself from the distant memory.
He had the words now.
Candy.
Eris had handed him her "candy."
And he had swatted it away without thinking.
He looked up at her—her lips still turned down, but her expression had slowly crumbled as Allen remained silent for too long. She looked a bit downcast.
Allen lightly cleared his throat.
"…Sorry."
Eris blinked and immediately turned toward him, eyes wide.
"W-what?! Why are you apologizing?!"
Allen had intended to change the topic and brush over the moment lightly.
But seeing her expression now, he couldn't help but smile a little.
He raised a finger to his face, pointing to himself earnestly.
"There was no killing intent. I sensed it—Eris didn't have any killing intent toward me."
"So… sorry."
"That was my mistake."
Rudy, standing nearby, froze.
He'd been expecting to watch the two fight like siblings. But instead, one just kicked at the grass and the other stood in silence before suddenly apologizing, leaving Rudy completely confused about what was going on.
Eris blinked several times in succession, seemingly stunned.
Then suddenly turned her head and glanced quickly at Ghislaine, who was smiling.
Then looked back at Allen.
"I… I get it!"
"Ghislaine she… Then what?!"
Allen blinked, not quite following what Eris meant. He glanced at Ghislaine.
She smiled.
"She's referring to the Water God Style. Eris doesn't want to talk about that anymore—she wants to return to the lesson we were having before it got interrupted. Specifically: why it's okay for me to release killing intent when I swing my sword, but she's told to suppress hers?"
Upon hearing that, Eris nodded vigorously, full of energy. Her earlier sulky demeanor was completely gone.
"Right! Ghislaine only releases her killing intent when she swings! Then I can do that too!"
Allen chuckled and shook his head.
He had nearly forgotten what point they had stopped at earlier.
Eris had an awful memory for reading and math, but when it came to swordsmanship, she remembered everything with crystal clarity.
Since her tsundere mode had kicked in again, Allen decided to follow along with her pace.
Otherwise, Rudy might end up getting hit again.
"That's because Ghislaine is fast and strong. With her level of skill, unless a fight drags into a prolonged battle, then—"
Allen sliced the air with his hand like a sword.
The second half of the sentence followed:
"—by the time the enemy senses her killing intent, they're already dead."
"That's the Sword God Style. That's the Blade of Light."
"I can do that too!"
"If you reach Ghislaine's level, of course you can. But for now, suppressing your killing intent is the better option."
"But Ghislaine is so strong... She's a Sword King, and I'm just a junior swordswoman…"
Allen tilted his head and glanced at Eris's slightly open mouth and faintly discouraged expression.
"Becoming a Sword King is still far off. But one thing is certain."
"Until that day comes, my Water God Style will protect you."
Ghislaine suddenly interjected.
"You seem to have a lot of faith in Lady Eris."
Allen blinked, then his smile widened.
His voice was firm and filled with unwavering confidence.
"Eris."
"Will become a Sword King."
"That's beyond question."
As his words fell—
Ghislaine turned her head to look at Eris.
And Eris stared at Allen, her eyes glowing with radiant light.
"Can I be as strong as Allen?!"
"Yes."
"Then can I be as strong as Ghislaine?!"
"Yes."
Eris blinked, looking at Allen, then at Ghislaine.
"Then who's stronger—Allen or Ghislaine?"
Allen and Ghislaine were both taken aback and looked at each other. They shared a moment of silence before Allen started to respond—
"Ghi—"
But Eris's voice cut him off:
"I want to see Allen and Ghislaine spar!"
Rudy, who had finally caught up with the conversation, froze. He looked around and twitched the corner of his mouth.
"…Don't be ridiculous. This is the training yard—Allen's not going to just go along with your nonsense—"
"Okay."
Rudy froze. He turned to Allen in shock.
At that moment—
He could even hear the stiff cracking of his own neck as he turned.
——
Creak
The door opened, pulling Hilda's gaze away from the tree canopy.
Sylphy stepped out of the "tailoring room," her white hair catching the sunlight.
She wore a moon-white dress that suited her perfectly.
Thanks to the high-quality fabric and tight stitching, her shoulders held a defined shape, compensating for the delicate narrowness of her still-developing frame.
The waist ties outlined the gentle curves forming along her maturing elven figure.
And beneath the waist, just above the knees, the skirt split slightly at the sides, revealing her slender legs in glimpses.
If her previous dress screamed "childlike," this one exuded a sense of blossoming youth.
Hilda clapped her hands, her expression bright.
"It suits you perfectly, Sylphy."
(End of Chapter)
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