After a moment of silence, Alan felt a little awkward looking at Eris again. He couldn't speak for a long time. It was a strange feeling. He fell silent for a moment, unable to find an apt description. The closest scenario he could think of was—
The orphanage, age eight, his true childhood.
There was a little boy two years younger than him who used to cling to him every day. Kids were always like that, wanting to play with the older ones. At the time, he had just been through the experience of a couple adopting him for a few weeks, only to change their minds and abandon him to have their own child. He was full of resentment and couldn't control his emotions. Especially on the day he returned to the orphanage, seeing the familiar gate, he felt a wave of nausea from the emotional turmoil.
And on the other side of the gate, that boy, who knows how he got the news, was waiting there early. As he was about to walk over, there were several 'parents' there to adopt children. Alan walked straight up, snatched the candy the boy never shared with him, and turned and left.
Sure enough, a moment later, he heard crying from behind him.
Finally got rid of that clingy pest, Alan thought.
But that night, lying in bed, he couldn't sleep. The few pieces of candy were placed neatly by his bedside.
The next day, Alan went to look for him but couldn't find him.
The third day, he still couldn't find him.
When Alan finally put aside his childish, stubborn pride and his self-righteous good intentions and asked a caretaker about the boy's whereabouts, he was told:
"Him? He was adopted. The day after you came back. Didn't you see him?"
"That kid is usually so stingy, but he knew you were coming back and kept saying he wanted to give you the candy. It was so strange."
Alan was silent for a moment then, looking down at the candy in his hand.
He had been punished.
After that, the boy was never sent back.
That's good.
That was the result he had wanted.
Alan blinked, pulling himself out of the distant memory.
He had a description now.
Candy.
Eris had offered him her 'candy.'
But he had casually swatted it away.
He looked up at Eris, whose mouth was still turned down in a pout. But seeing that Alan wasn't responding, her expression was starting to falter, becoming a little dejected. He cleared his throat softly.
"I'm sorry."
Eris froze, then immediately turned her head, blinking.
"…Wh-what are you talking about?! Why are you apologizing?!"
Alan had intended to say something to change the subject and brush the matter aside lightly. But seeing Eris's expression now, he smiled. He pointed a finger at his own face and said with complete honesty.
"There was no killing intent. I sensed it. Eris, you didn't have any killing intent towards me."
"So, I'm sorry."
"I was wrong."
Rudeus, standing to the side, was stunned by this. He had been waiting to see a sibling brawl, but one was just kicking the grass, and the other, after a long pause, suddenly started apologizing. He couldn't quite figure out what the two of them were doing.
Eris blinked several times, as if stunned for a moment. Then she quickly glanced at Ghislaine, who had a smile on her face, before turning back to Alan.
"I! …I know!"
"Ghislaine, she… what about her?!"
Alan was confused, not understanding what Eris was trying to say. He looked at Ghislaine.
She smiled.
"She's talking about the Water God Style. Eris doesn't want to talk about this anymore… so she wants to change the subject back to the lesson that was just interrupted—why is it okay for me to release killing intent the moment I swing my sword, but she has to deliberately restrain hers?"
Hearing this, Eris nodded vigorously, looking full of energy. Her dejected look from moments ago had vanished.
"Yeah, that's right! Ghislaine only releases killing intent when she swings her sword, so why can't I do the same?!"
Alan shook his head and smiled.
He had almost forgotten where they had left off. Eris's memory for reading and arithmetic was terrible, but when it came to topics related to swordsmanship, it was incredibly sharp.
Since her tsundere side was acting up again, he might as well go along with it and continue the conversation. Otherwise, Rudeus might get hit again soon.
"Because Ghislaine is fast enough and strong enough. With her abilities, unless she's drawn into a prolonged battle by a high-level opponent, by the time her killing intent is sensed by the enemy…"
Alan swung his hand like a blade through the air.
The second half of his sentence fell.
"…they are already dead."
"That is the Sword God Style. That is the Sword of Light."
"I can be like that too!"
"When you reach Ghislaine's level, of course you can. But for now, hiding your killing intent is the best choice."
"Ah… Ghislaine is a Sword King… I'm only an elementary-rank swordsman…"
Alan glanced at Eris, whose mouth was slightly open in a look of frustration.
"The day you become a Sword King is still far off. But one thing is certain…"
"Before that day comes, my Water God Style will protect you."
Ghislaine suddenly interjected.
"You seem to have a lot of confidence in Lady Eris."
Alan paused, then a smile bloomed on his face.
His words carried an unquestionable 'confidence.'
"Eris."
"Will become a Sword King."
"There is no doubt about it."
At his words, Ghislaine turned to look at Eris.
She was looking at Alan, her eyes shining with incredible brilliance.
"Can I be as strong as Alan?!"
"Yes."
"Then can I be as strong as Ghislaine?!"
"Yes."
Eris blinked, looking at Alan, then at Ghislaine.
"Then between Alan and Ghislaine, who is stronger?"
Alan and Ghislaine both froze, looking at each other. They were silent for a moment, then Alan spoke.
"Ghislai—"
Eris's next sentence cut him off.
"I want to see Alan and Ghislaine spar!"
Rudeus, who had finally caught up with their train of thought, looked around, his mouth twitching.
"…Don't be ridiculous. This is a swordsmanship lesson in the courtyard. There's no way Alan would let you get away with such nonsense…"
"Alright."
Rudeus froze, turning his head in shock to look at Alan.
At this moment, he could even hear the creak of his own stiff neck turning.
"Creeak…"
The door opened, pulling Hilda's gaze back from the treetops.
Sylphie, with her white hair, stepped out of the "sewing room."
Sunlight fell on her. The moon-white long dress she wore suited her perfectly. Because the fabric was of high quality and the stitching was dense, her shoulders appeared to have more 'support,' compensating for some of the youthful slenderness of her not-yet-fully-developed frame. The sash at her waist outlined the developing curves of her Long-Eared hips. Below her waist, at a point above her knees, the dress had a slit on the side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her slender calves.
If her previous dress had been very childlike, this one exuded a sense of budding young womanhood.
Hilda clapped her hands, her expression bright.
"It really does suit you perfectly, Sylphie."
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