episode_0020

“Hmm….”

Rachel, with her deep purple hair flowing freely, sat by the moonlit window, enjoying the darkness.

She used to prefer the daytime when she was younger, but now she found solace in the night.

The hardships she had endured in her life seemed to have etched darkness into her heart.

“Master….”

This afternoon.

The sudden proposal had kept her up all night.

Rachel brushed her hair back, feeling as tangled inside as her messy hair.

“How am I supposed to handle this?”

She had never taught anyone before.

She had never learned from anyone.

Starting with the sword she had obtained by pestering her father, and swinging it recklessly against the straw dummies in the fields, her journey had begun.

She had not walked the path of righteousness, surviving by cutting down whatever came her way, using any means necessary.

Elden’s offer to become her mentor had been enough to disrupt her sleep.

“I never thought about having a disciple.”

He said they would start from tomorrow.

As Elden had pointed out, he had many shortcomings.

Sometimes, it was frustrating.

However, she couldn’t explain her shortcomings, nor could she figure out what she needed to do to improve.

“Tsk.”

She didn’t even know what weapon to recommend to Elden, who had only ever used his fists.

As a swordsman herself, Elden didn’t seem suited for him.

Starting with the sword, she had tried various weapons like daggers, spears, axes, halberds, shields, bows, and more.

What would suit a reckless brawler like him….

Unfortunately, Rachel, who was not skilled in hand-to-hand combat, didn’t know.

“Hmm….”

Rachel let out a long sigh.

What wind had blown to suddenly decide to start formal training? Elden was truly an annoying employer.

Whoosh!

She conjured a small flame in her left hand.

A purple flame flickered like a will-o’-the-wisp.

When she had something on her mind, Rachel would often play with fire like this.

Of course, it was obvious that Elden Laphelion, who had never been able to defeat her, would give up easily.

Living lightly and not understanding the concept of effort was his kind.

He indulged in pleasure over progress, in short-term joy over long-term satisfaction.

Those who were steeped in the fleeting pleasures of alcohol and women couldn’t endure the pain of growth.

Having never even respected his parents, he couldn’t accept the advice of a mentor.

If he fell a few times, he would surely not bend his pride and would lash out.

Elden Laphelion was that kind of person.

Although he had shown signs of unknown changes recently.

Perhaps this was one of those signs.

Not fearing him from the start, Rachel couldn’t care less about the changes, but she had a feeling that annoying things were about to happen.

Whoosh.

Rachel couldn’t seem to stop playing with fire.

Memories of the days when she swung her sword against her father’s teachings, despite his gentle guidance, were burning in her mind like flames.

Moreover.

“Haha. Quite a strong swing. But it would be better to hold the handle a bit lower, don’t you think?”

Her father, who would watch her swing the sword with delicate hands, giving advice even as he hoped she wouldn’t fall, was coming to mind.

To a young girl, his teachings were more like play than instruction, but if asked who her ‘master’ was, she would point to her father, who played and trained with her while wielding a sword.

The exciting game had been the driving force behind the birth of the purple-haired knight.

Therefore, the sense of responsibility that came with the title of “master” was complicating Rachel’s thoughts.

There was a chance that she might find enjoyment in her teachings and desire growth.

She had always done her best.

She had never shied away from any task for the sake of improvement and had persevered diligently.

She believed that hardships and adversity were the shortcuts to progress and had bravely faced them.

And at the end, she had rested deeply in the shade of the willow tree, feeling content.

A skilled warrior who took direct action in retaliation, a combatant with exceptional abilities to anticipate threats due to innate senses, and a fighter with decent combat skills who didn’t back down.

Thanks to these qualities, she was closer to the vanguard than a mere escort, and she was always ready for a fight.

Having slightly dulled, loosened her mind, and honed her blunt blade, she was now a decent material for sharpening.

Rachel, who had extinguished the violet flames that had risen on her palm, stood by the window and faced the mirror.

The thin white silk dress reflected her sensual figure in the moonlight.

Subtle and graceful, with voluptuous curves.

Rachel, who scanned her mature beauty with a somewhat uncomfortable gaze, soon lay down on the bed to rest.

And the next morning.

“Sword.”

“Axe.”

“Bow.”

“Spear.”

“Dagger.”

“Shield.”

“Halberd.”

Rachel, who visited the training weapon rental office, borrowed a total of seven weapons.

She was a master who borrowed all kinds of training weapons in case her disciple liked any of them.

The employee asked with a surprised face, “Did you… rent all of these weapons?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No… no, if you just write down the purpose of the rental, I’ll take care of it.”

Rachel, looking down at the ledger handed by the employee, wrote down the purpose: “Employer’s training.”

The purpose seemed to be written as “education,” but it seemed to be more like “true education.”

For some reason, the employee felt a chilling sensation that something terrible might happen, and he had to worryingly watch the knight leaving the rental office with seven weapons.

*

Knock.

“Come in.”

Rendall, who had safely arrived at the annex, opened the door with a knock.

He called out to Rachel, who had her hair tied up in a bun.

“Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“Master Gongja is waiting for you at training ground 6.”

“Understood.”

Rachel, with her hair tied up, stood in front of the mirror to check her appearance.

She detested being messy.

That’s why she always preferred a short haircut that reached her shoulders, and when engaging in external activities, she always tied up her hair in a bun.

Being a knight was a job that required a lot of physical exertion, and even a 0.1-second distraction could put one’s life at risk.

Yet, sticking to a short haircut was a way for her to maintain a minimal sense of femininity by leaving her bangs tied up in a bun.

For a woman entering the world of men, there were many things she had to give up to survive.

To overcome inherent fragility, she had to put in multiple times the effort, and to become a top-tier individual in a rough world, she had to let go of femininity.

For Rachel, who had given up on that, the short hair tied up in a bun was a last remnant of attachment to her remaining femininity.

Or perhaps it was a lingering sentiment.

After tidying her hair, Rachel approached the rack of training weapons on the wall.

Seeing that, Rendall wondered.

Among those seven weapons, which one would Rachel choose?

And what weapon would the personal bodyguard recommend to her?

Thud.

Rachel leaned the spear against her back.

Chuk.

Rachel angled the halberd in the opposite direction of the spear.

Chuk.

Rachel slung the bow over her shoulder.

Chuk.

Rachel strapped the axe to her left hip.

Chuk.

Rachel sheathed the dagger on her right hip.

Chuk.

Rachel held the round shield in her left hand.

Chuk.

Rachel gripped the sword in her right hand.

“…?”

Rachel, fully equipped with seven different weapons, looked like she was ready for the final battle.

Seeing Rachel’s puzzled expression, Rendler, who seemed amazed, asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Oh… no. I was just wondering if you were going to war.”

“Oh.”

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Rachel finally felt a sense of unease.

“I just brought everything in case Master decides to choose something.”

“Right, right. Be careful on your way.”

“Yes. Then.”

Rachel bowed lightly and headed towards the training ground where her employer was waiting.

Clang, clank.

The sound of the weapons clashing echoed faintly with each step she took.

*

Clang, clank, clank.

Amidst the noisy sounds, Rachel moved forward in silence.

Navigating the battlefield filled with the stench of blood, she wielded the broken sword as a dagger, the remaining spear as a club, and the shattered halberd as an axe to survive the death that surrounded her.

The battlefield was littered with bodies, and Rachel had survived by wielding everything in her path, leaving no weapon untouched.

Her specialty was the sword, but Rachel, a self-taught magic user, had honed her skills to wield magic-infused weapons.

Clank, clang.

People stared in awe at the walking arsenal of weapons that Rachel carried.

Ignoring the curious glances around her, she continued on her way until she reached the entrance to the training ground for the sixth time.

And that’s when it happened.

Crash!

The entrance opened, and someone emerged from the training ground.

“?”

It was her employer, Elden Raphaelion, who seemed to be in a hurry for some reason.

Rachel looked at him with a puzzled expression and called out, “Master?”

“Oh, Rachel. Let’s go quickly.”

“Where to?”

Elden smiled mischievously as he looked around the training ground.

It was a cool smile of someone who had successfully planned for rest and healing.

“Let’s start training tomorrow. I think it’s best to take a break today.”

“Really?”

Thud.

With that brief reply, Elden passed by Rachel, leaving her to watch his retreating figure with a somewhat disappointed look.

She had stayed up late preparing for the training that was supposed to start today.

She had worried endlessly about whether she could handle the role of a teacher that she felt was unworthy of her.

She had agonized over how to explain what she had learned in practice.

Just a day’s delay, but all that worry and anxiety seemed to have been in vain.

“….”

Unaware of her feelings, her employer walked on cheerfully, not realizing what had made him so happy.

“The weather is nice today~”

“….”

“Rachel? Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m coming.”

In the end, Rachel had to follow Elden, leaving behind a lingering sense of regret.

“Oh, and from tomorrow, stick close to me until the end of the tournament. We need to be prepared for any sudden actions from the villains.”

…That’s right.

Rachel silently retorted in her mind as she followed Elden.