“Huup! Kuht! Huuut…!”
The sound of spirited shouts, which had long become part of the daily routine, echoed through the open window.
I let out a sigh as I organized the documents on my desk.
Without Sylvia to help with paperwork, the workload was overwhelming.
Maybe I’d started too many ventures recently. From managing the operations of Vermont Security, exporting swords crafted by Jain, collecting tolls on the Vermont Highway, overseeing road maintenance by bandit groups, and calculating the related taxes—the list seemed endless.
Even with a body that didn’t require sleep, I was struggling to keep up with the work piling up.
‘Indeed, Sylvia’s return is urgently needed.’
What mattered wasn’t the amusing sight of a small girl wielding a massive greatsword with surprising cuteness every time I saw her.
At this rate, I’d drown in work and end up like Empress Sister.
I wouldn’t even have the luxury of enjoying the rare reunion of the three inseparable friends, Charlotte, Yuri, and Sylvia, laughing and playing in the manor. Instead, I’d be stuck in the office.
Sylvia’s swift return was paramount.
Her nimble hands, which would become even faster upon reaching the level of a Sword Master, were desperately needed to handle the paperwork.
Thus, I couldn’t help but cheer her on more fervently than anyone else.
Time passed relentlessly.
It had already been a month since Sylvia began her training to reach the level of a Sword Master.
In that time, she had collapsed from exhaustion three times.
Though she wasn’t starving herself entirely, as she did in the first week, she still looked precariously weak.
Of course, Sylvia wasn’t recklessly swinging her sword the whole time.
She meditated, trained in martial arts, and seemed to focus on understanding the sword deeply.
At this pace, she’d likely reach a conclusion within the next three days: either she’d ascend to the rank of Sword Master or…
“…?”
Thud!
The door to the office suddenly swung open with a loud bang.
Sylvia appeared, her head hung low.
Her hands were empty; it seemed she had let go of her sword.
“Are you here to retrieve your sword?”
“…”
“Take it. I’ll finish my work soon and come watch over your training so you can focus.”
“…”
“Sylvia?”
Her response was unusual.
Normally, if she came to retrieve her sword, she’d stride in without a word, say, “Pardon me”, and shove her hand into my mouth to pull out the sword.
But now, she stood by the door, trembling slightly, her head still bowed.
After a moment of silence, she finally spoke.
“My Lord…”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s not… anything in particular… I’ve just decided… to take it a bit easier for now… like you said…”
“…”
[The Evil God ‘Kali’ is anxiously pacing, convinced something must have happened to our knight.]
Sylvia’s trembling voice didn’t match her words.
Anyone could see something had happened. Just yesterday, she had been eating nothing but a single piece of bread a day, pouring herself entirely into her training.
Now, she suddenly wanted to take it easy?
Though I could guess the reason, I refrained from pressing her for details.
Instead, I began gently patting her head.
“That’s a good idea. There’s no time limit, so there’s no need to push yourself too hard.”
“Because of me… your workload must’ve increased…”
“It’s manageable. Don’t worry about it.”
“What about protection… if I’m not here…?”
“I can rely on Yuri for now. We’ve renewed her contract, after all.”
“…”
Sylvia remained silent, her head swaying gently under my hand.
Then, suddenly, she leaned forward and bumped her forehead against my chest.
Ah, it’s that moment.
“My Lord… I… I don’t think I can become a Sword Master…! Huuuuk…!”
[The Evil God ‘Kali’ clutches her chest in anguish.]
As expected, her breathing quickened, and she began sobbing.
Then, she threw her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest.
Having experienced Julia’s tears before, I was somewhat prepared for this sequence.
My hands automatically moved to embrace Sylvia, stroking her hair softly.
Yet, despite my comforting gestures, she trembled like a leaf in the wind.
“I tried… so hard… but no matter what, I can’t see a way forward… Hic… I don’t even know what to do anymore… I feel like I’m stuck… like I’ll never grow beyond this point… Huuuuwahhh…!”
“…”
Her sorrowful tears soaked my chest.
Understanding even a fraction of her frustration, I couldn’t say anything—only stroke her hair in silence.
Was she truly despairing over just a month’s worth of training?
No. Sylvia’s journey toward becoming a Sword Master didn’t begin a month ago.
Though she had faithfully served as Vermont Security’s knight and instructor, her heart had always been set on that goal.
Even after the injury to her heart caused her to lose her mana and her body regressed in age, she never fully let go of that dream.
Her past ten years of wielding the sword had all been steps toward that goal.
The hardships she endured in pursuit of mastering Aura had all led to this.
This past month was merely the culmination of her efforts.
Perhaps until now, she’d thought that with enough effort, she’d one day reach her goal.
But after losing her mana to the mana corrosion and finding herself physically weakened, becoming a Sword Master was no longer an aspiration—it was her only option.
In this short yet long month, Sylvia had been forced to confront that reality.
“I… hic… I must be hopeless… Huuu… I don’t even know what to do anymore…!”
“Take a proper rest. Eat, sleep, bathe—take it easy for a while. Nothing is set in stone. Once you’ve rested, you might find the path ahead becomes clearer.”
“Hic… Yes…”
Sylvia, slightly more composed, swallowed her tears and answered weakly.
Though her body had long since reached its limit, now her mind and will were faltering, breaking her completely.
I couldn’t fully grasp what Sylvia was going through.
Still, I could imagine how hollow ten years of unrewarded effort must feel.
All I could do was gently stroke her small back, offering silent comfort.
‘You’re not someone who ends it here.’
But I believed in her.
Sylvia wasn’t the type to stay down just because she had fallen once.
As I rested my chin on the top of her head, I reaffirmed my faith in her determination and resilience.
***
“Whew…”
Half-awake and still groggy, Sylvia felt the warmth of sunlight on her face, its soft light tickling her skin.
This dreamy sensation drew a contented sigh from her lips.
“If you’re awake, make me a cup of tea.”
“…!?”
Hearing Aslan’s voice from beside her, Sylvia bolted upright in surprise.
This… isn’t her room?
A quick glance around confirmed it—she was in Aslan’s office.
She was lying on a couch, a blanket draped over her.
Sylvia quickly retraced her steps.
While training, she had been overwhelmed by the futility of her efforts, exhausted, and despairing at her perceived lack of talent. Acting on impulse, she had sought out Aslan.
The moment she saw him, her emotions surged, and she burst into tears. And then…
“Ah.”
That’s where her memory stopped.
She must have cried herself into a stupor and fallen asleep.
That was the only explanation.
How long had she been asleep?
Judging by how light her body felt, how clear her vision was, and how her head didn’t ache, it must have been nearly 20 hours.
Only now did Sylvia realize just how abnormal her previous routine had been.
“Here is your tea…”
With practiced ease, Sylvia brewed a cup of tea and set the steaming mug on Aslan’s desk.
Looking at the empty teacups lined up beside him, she quickly cleared them away before handing him a fresh cup.
Taking a sip, Aslan smiled with satisfaction.
“Thank you. It’s excellent.”
“You never say that normally…”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s clear you favor children, my Lord. This is the same tea I make every day, yet you smile and praise it just because I look like this.”
Sylvia pouted, unable to hold back her irritation.
She had long known of her master’s soft spot for children, but now that she was the one benefiting from it, a lingering bitterness welled up.
‘If it weren’t for this, I might already be a Sword Master…’
Thinking back, the injury to her heart had been Aslan’s doing—indirectly, at least.
It was during a duel with a Sword Master hired by Vermont that she had sustained the wound, just as she had believed herself on the cusp of mastering the sword.
Aslan’s next words broke her spiraling thoughts.
“I won’t deny that I have a fondness for children, but in this case, you’re wrong.”
“…What?”
Sylvia’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“You said it’s the same tea as always? Try it yourself. See if it tastes the same as what you usually make.”
“Of course it’s the same tea… Wait, why is it different? I brew this tea every day—it shouldn’t taste any different…”
“Your body has changed. Your perspective has shifted, your hands are smaller, your grip is weaker. Even if the process is the same, the outcome can’t be identical.”
“Ah…”
Sylvia froze, shocked by his words.
Before considering his reaction, she realized she hadn’t even reflected on how she herself had changed.
People often focus on external changes, forgetting that they, too, are constantly evolving.
Could she have become a Sword Master if she hadn’t suffered that heart injury?
She didn’t know.
But conversely, had she regressed entirely and failed to recover her former strength?
Absolutely not.
She had long surpassed the version of herself who had once been a candidate for hero.
She had climbed to a level akin to a Sword Master.
Whether her heart injury and inability to store mana had ultimately barred her from achieving that rank remained uncertain.
But what was undeniable was that, despite those setbacks, she had continued to improve.
‘Without even realizing it, I adapted…’
The injury hadn’t closed the path of a swordsman to her.
She had grown and evolved, proving that it was possible to overcome.
She just hadn’t realized it until now.
Then, what about the fact that her body had regressed and she could no longer handle mana?
Was this the ultimate injury that would end her life as a swordsman?
Perhaps. If she allowed herself to believe that.
‘Her Majesty overcame her own obstacles. At the very least, it’s not impossible.’
If she didn’t give up, there was still hope.
Of course, not giving up didn’t mean charging blindly ahead like she had for the past month.
It meant adapting—to her altered physical state and to the stillness of a world devoid of mana.
As this realization dawned, Sylvia felt her perspective open up like a curtain being drawn back.
Her vision, unclouded by mana, perceived only pure light.
The path of the sword—the trajectory of its motion—existed solely in this luminous world.
The information mana once provided was nothing more than a delayed echo, lagging behind the stroke of the sword.
To “see” a sword’s movement through mana was akin to walking backward while looking behind.
Mana had been nothing but a hindrance for a swordsman.
“My Lord, pardon me for a moment.”
“Wait, hold on, let me at least finish my tea—ughkk!”
Without hesitation, Sylvia drew the sword from Aslan’s mouth.
The blade quivered in her fatigued hand, heavy and unwieldy.
Even holding it was a challenge, but she felt an overwhelming urge to test her newfound clarity before the insight faded.
“Hyaah!”
As Sylvia swung the blade with all her strength, the air around her shifted.
“…!?”
The sword glimmered with a radiant light, moving through the air in an unnatural, almost otherworldly manner.
Although she had swung it a moment ago, the blade seemed to appear and disappear repeatedly, as if lingering in the space it had sliced through.
This… This was the phenomenon seen when a sword split the past itself.
But unlike the occasional glimpses she’d caught before, the effect now repeated dozens—no, hundreds—of times, overlapping and amplifying.
“What… What is that?”
At that moment, the air before her seemed to tear open, revealing a rift.
The fissure grew wider, expanding to a size large enough for a person to pass through before halting.
From within the rift, an eerie yet oddly familiar landscape began to emerge, shimmering as though it belonged to another world entirely.
Sylvia stared, her breath catching in her throat.