A grave oversight.
Garlan had intended to leave Lia in the safety of the house, but instead, he had placed her in a death trap. Even if the cramped interior of the kitchen limited a Lizawolf's mobility, it wasn't a threat an innocent girl could handle. To an average warrior, a single beast of this caliber was a nightmare; to a defenseless civilian, it was a death sentence.
The moment he realized his mistake, Garlan bolted back toward the house. His heart hammered against his ribs with uncharacteristic panic. He was a man used to the solitary life of a shadow; having someone to protect was a weight he wasn't yet accustomed to.
Just as he reached the kitchen door, a feral roar erupted from within, making his stomach drop.
Am I too late?
"[Holy Wind Wall]!"
The girl's clear, sharp voice pierced through the monster's snarl.
Lia was backed into a corner, clutching a wooden rod whose tip had been charred black by fire. She held it before her like a devout pilgrim offering a prayer in a cathedral of stained glass. As the incantation fell from her lips, the invisible air condensed into a shimmering, tangible barrier.
The defensive spell manifested with staggering speed. Thud! The sound of the Lizawolf's spiked tail slamming into the barrier echoed through the room, held back by a wall of compressed wind.
Garlan froze for a microsecond, stunned by her casting speed. It was faster than some First-Class Mages he could recall. She possessed a natural, raw talent—much like Fern. If properly nurtured, she was destined to become a mage of extraordinary caliber.
Swish—
Garlan didn't hesitate. Exploiting the moment the beast recoiled from the barrier, he blurred behind it. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he drove his shortsword upward, piercing the base of the monster's skull. The last Lizawolf went limp instantly, its spiked tail hitting the floorboards with a dull thud.
Lia saw the danger pass and let out a long, shaky breath, releasing her magic. The tension drained from her small face.
"My mistake. I let one slip past me."
Garlan looked down at the charred wooden rod in her hand and felt his cheek twitch. To be fair, it was a staff, but when he had first arrived in this world, he hadn't realized its value and had used it as a fire-poker for the hearth. By the time he noticed, it was a blackened ruin left in the kitchen. He never expected it to actually work.
The quality of that wood is incredible...
"Mm-mm," Lia shook her head, her voice soft. "If you hadn't come back immediately, I couldn't have stopped it. I only know simple spells, and I'm not very good at mana control yet."
Without precise control or a massive reservoir of mana, spells cast without a proper medium—like a staff—usually lost most of their potency. Had Garlan not arrived, that barrier wouldn't have held for a second strike.
In Garlan's memory, aside from Great Demons, only someone like Serie or a handful of legendary mages could cast high-level magic at will without a staff. It made sense why the mercenaries had managed to catch her; mages were already at a disadvantage in a close-quarters ambush by warriors.
Speaking of Serie... Garlan realized this was the year of the First-Class Mage Exam.
As the pinnacle of authority recognized by the Continental Magic Association, the exam was held every three years, rotating between the Northern branch in Äußerst and the headquarters in the Holy City of Strahl. It drew countless prodigies, not just for the prestige, but for the "privilege" it granted: the right to receive a single spell from the Great Mage Serie herself.
For a long-lived elf, spending centuries to master a spell was trivial. For a human, it was an impossibility. Thus, the chance to acquire a spell honed over hundreds of years through "Magic Bequest" made human mages flock to the exam like moths to a flame.
Garlan retracted his blade and rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed the Lizawolf's carcass by the hind legs to haul it outside. Leaving it in the house would be a nightmare for his nose—he was a bit of a clean freak, and he preferred his floors to gleam.
"Have you ever thought about taking the Mage Exam?" Garlan asked suddenly.
It seemed like a random question, but he had his reasons. Given her uncertain future, diving into the study of magic felt like a solid path. As an elf, she had the time; gaining strength would ensure she never had to fear being a victim again.
Wait, she's just a stranger I picked up on a whim. Why am I acting like her personal career counselor? This feels weird.
"Just a suggestion," he added quickly, feeling a bit self-conscious about his sudden "mother hen" energy. "You'll be moving on eventually, and it would give you something to do."
Lia was currently kneeling on the floor, holding her nose with one hand and a rag in the other, helping him scrub the blood from the wood. Hearing his words, she paused. She looked up slowly, her expression hesitant.
"Do you... not want me to stay here?"
Eh?
Wait, what? Girl, what kind of plot twist is this?
"That's not what I meant..."
Garlan was baffled by the genuine sadness in her eyes. This wasn't how the "Shadow Assassin" life was supposed to go. Instead of grueling training and cold-blooded missions, he was being hit with a "damsel in distress" gaze that was far more dangerous than a Lizawolf.
"We've barely spent any time together. Why do you... trust me so much?" He avoided the word "like," afraid he might choke on it. He knew the "transmigrated protagonist gets the girl" trope was common, but this sudden windfall made zero sense to him.
"Because of the eyes," she said, pointing to her own. "My mother said it's a gift I was born with. If I look someone in the eyes, I can feel their emotions."
My emotions?
Garlan felt a strange itch in his chest. Was it because he liked her? No, Lia was beautiful, but he wasn't a beast who fell for every pretty face he saw.
"The men who caught me... their hearts were boiling with greed. Uncle Locke didn't have any malice, just pity. But you..."
She pointed a small finger at him.
"You are kind. I can feel it. Even if you look difficult to approach on the outside, you are a very good person."
Being praised so bluntly made Garlan's ears turn hot. He scratched his head, struggling to find a response that wasn't awkward. He really couldn't handle compliments from the opposite sex. He thanked his Shadow Warrior training for keeping his face neutral; in his previous life, he would have been as red as a tomato.
"Fine. If you want to stay, I don't mind. But you'll have to help me with the chores."
"I will!"
Seeing that he had agreed to let her stay, Lia beamed. The lively, bright girl in front of him now was a world away from the hollow-eyed captive he had met in Locke's basement.
She really doesn't act like someone who just escaped human traffickers...