“Phoenix...? The name of the Sky Demon?”
Midir, who had been listening silently, suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. His tone carried a hint of confusion, and a complex expression surfaced on his face.
“It’s just the same name, nothing to be surprised about, right? Besides, the Sky Demon has been dead for a hundred years... What’s... wrong with you?”
Seeing Midir show such an expression for the first time, both of them couldn't help but feel a bit worried.
Fortunately, this state did not last long. Midir quickly regained his usual composure and transcendence, as if the previous anomaly had been nothing more than a momentary hallucination.
“Perhaps I’m just overthinking things. I need some time to be alone.”
After leaving those words, Midir turned and walked slowly out of the living room.
...
The next morning.
When Rosal stepped out of the house, the first thing she saw was Blake Rowena standing outside the door. From the dew still clinging to his coat, it was clear he had been at the gate for quite some time.
Witnessing this, Rosal appeared a bit flustered. She immediately turned and ran back inside, hurriedly calling for Midir, who was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
“What are you doing here?” Although he had sensed Blake outside long ago, Midir still couldn't help but ask as he looked at the humble second son of the Duke.
“This is my father’s request. He wants me to follow you and Miss Aila as an attendant during this time, as a way to make amends.” Blake lowered his head, speaking in a respectful tone.
“An attendant? The kind that does anything?”
“...Yes, sir. You can tell me to do anything!” Gritting his teeth inwardly, Blake hesitated only for a moment before answering firmly.
“I see... that couldn't be better! First, go buy groceries for us, and some daily necessities as well. Rosal, go inside and get a piece of paper to write a list for him. Let him run the errand.”
“Huh? Running errands?” Blake had already prepared himself to endure humiliation, but hearing such a strange request, he froze in place for a moment.
“What? Is there a problem? Don't worry, I’ll give you money for the items. We aren't heartless capitalists, after all.”
Looking at the surprised Blake, Midir took a slip of paper from the young girl, wrote down a list of items, and handed it over. “Take this. Be quick about it.”
“No! No problem at all! Yes, sir!” After taking the paper, he nodded repeatedly and quickly disappeared around the corner of the street.
By the time Blake returned pushing a small cart of food and supplies, Aila had just arrived outside. She only smiled at the sight of Blake dressed like a porter and didn't say much.
“You’re quite punctual, aren't you? You always manage to show up right at mealtime.”
Midir said as he walked out of the kitchen carrying a pot, the enticing aroma of the contents wafting through the air.
“And you... Blake, right? Come in as well. I’ve prepared breakfast for you too.” Midir continued to beckon to Blake, who was standing at the door swallowing his saliva.
“I’ve always been very punctual, okay? Besides, this is a testament to your culinary skills!” Aila maintained her mischievous demeanor, seemingly unbothered by Midir’s teasing.
In fact, it was true. After eating several meals meticulously prepared by Midir, even with Aila’s years of experience traveling across the continent, she had to admit that the silver-haired man’s cooking was top-tier.
The breakfast was extremely simple—a bowl of meat porridge paired with a few fried eggs—yet it possessed an irresistible charm. Even Blake, who was accustomed to a luxurious diet, could not stop praising its deliciousness.
After breakfast, the group moved to the villa's courtyard. Aila stated she wanted to test Rosal’s basic skills and planned to provide her with step-by-step guidance.
...
“Your left hand’s movement is too large, keep it close to your body!”
“Lower your center of gravity more when you step forward!”
“If you’re considering switching weapons, your movements need to be more flexible. Don't let anyone find an opening.”
“The timing of that thrust was wrong, and the angle was off. Raise your wrist a bit higher!”
After an hour of practice, Rosal danced through the courtyard with her newly acquired rapier. The intense exertion caused sweat to pour down her face like rain, her training outfit clinging to her skin and highlighting her gradually maturing figure.
As the instructor, Aila leaned leisurely against a bench under a tree, sipping a glass of fruit juice. With her strength and insight, guiding Rosal—who hadn't yet officially become a swordsman—was simple.
Rosal’s primary issue stemmed from adapting to light weapons. She was long accustomed to the heavy-handed combat style of the two-handed greatsword. Suddenly switching to a slender blade focused on rapid thrusts and flexible maneuvering inevitably felt a bit clumsy.
Aila’s intention was to have her develop muscle memory for one or two light weapons in a short amount of time. After all, flexibly changing weapons and choosing the appropriate attack method based on combat needs was key to improving the combat flexibility of someone who lacked raw strength.
“Ah, Midir, help me ice this again!”
Aila felt the glass in her hand, which had nearly reached room temperature, and turned to look at Midir, who was immersed in his Magic Intelligence Book.
Midir didn't even look up. With a gentle flick of the hand not holding the book, a pale blue light sank into the glass in Aila’s hand, and a white frost mist rose from the cup.
“Great, thanks! Little Rosal, keep going! Try that sidestep move from before!”
Aila thanked him softly, took a sip of the newly chilled juice, and then turned her attention back to Rosal to continue her instruction.
In stark contrast to the harmonious scene of the other three in the courtyard was Blake, who stood alone, appearing restless and uneasy.
Since breakfast, Midir and Aila had not given him any further orders. After waiting patiently for over an hour, Blake finally couldn't help but step forward to ask, only to be told he could do whatever he wanted. Consequently, he became the most idle person in the entire courtyard.
It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that Aila signaled for Rosal, who had been practicing all morning, to stop. By then, the girl was panting heavily, leaning against a large tree to rest as soon as she stopped. Midir thoughtfully handed her a towel and a glass of chilled juice.
Aila seemed unsatisfied with Rosal’s progress. She turned her head and saw Blake standing blankly to the side, looking as if he were about to doze off, so she walked over and gave his head a light flick.
Blake, whose mind had been drifting off into the clouds, was startled by the sudden contact and looked at Aila with a trace of alarm.
“It seems you’re really bored. In that case, you’ll be her sparring partner starting this afternoon!” Aila said, rolling her eyes at Blake’s confused expression.
“If I practice with her, the gap between us is too large. It would be meaningless.”
“Right... As you command, Miss Aila!”
And so, that afternoon, the second son of House Rowena was promoted from background scenery to a practice target, beginning his career as Rosal’s sparring partner.
Because there was still a significant gap in their cultivation, Aila forbade both of them from using Battle Qi. She even used the Arms Crafter to create a set of weighted metal blocks and required Blake to wear them.
When two people have not yet transcended the level of a swordsman, the intensity of Battle Qi decides almost everything. The gap in physical attributes can be entirely compensated for with superior technique.
At first, even while wearing dozens of pounds of weights, Blake relied on his absolute strength to suppress Rosal. However, under Aila’s step-by-step guidance, Rosal’s technique improved at a rapid pace.
By the end of just one afternoon, Rosal was already able to successfully trade a few blows with the weighted Blake. This rate of growth even surprised Blake, her opponent.
Rate on N.U.
