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After a moment of silence, Allen found himself feeling strangely awkward under Eris' gaze.
He couldn't find the right words.
An odd sensation.
He fell silent, struggling to articulate it—until a distant memory surfaced.
The orphanage. Age eight. His true childhood.
There had been a boy, two years younger, who clung to him relentlessly.
Kids were like that—always drawn to older playmates.
But back then, Allen had been bitter. Fresh off being returned by a couple who'd adopted him, only to change their minds weeks later ("We'd rather have our own"), his emotions were raw.
The day he was brought back, seeing the familiar orphanage gates made him physically nauseous.
And there, waiting at the entrance, was that kid—somehow already knowing he'd return.
A few prospective adoptive parents stood nearby.
Allen strode past, snatched the candy the boy never shared, and walked off without a word.
The wailing started soon after.
Good. Finally rid of that pest.
But that night, he lay awake, staring at the neatly arranged candies on his nightstand.
The next day, he went looking for the boy.
Couldn't find him.
The day after—still gone.
Finally, swallowing his childish pride, he asked a caretaker.
"Him? He was adopted. The day after you came back. Didn't you see him?"
"That kid was always stingy, but that day, he kept saying he wanted to give you his candy. Strange, huh?"
Allen had looked down at the sweets in his hand.
Punishment delivered.
The boy never came back.
Fine.
That's what he'd wanted anyway.
Allen blinked, snapping back to the present.
Now he had his analogy.
Candy.
Eris had offered hers—and he'd smacked it away.
He cleared his throat, glancing at Eris, who—despite her earlier pout—was now deflating from his lack of response.
"Sorry."
Eris jolted, whipping her head around.
"W-What?! Why are you apologizing?!"
Allen had planned to brush it off, change the subject.
But seeing her expression, he smiled instead.
Pointing at himself, he admitted frankly:
"No killing intent. I felt it—Eris didn't have any toward me."
"So, sorry."
"I was wrong."
Rudeus, watching nearby, nearly choked.
He'd expected a full-blown sibling brawl!
Instead, one's kicking grass, the other's apologizing out of nowhere—what even is this dynamic?!
Eris blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned—then shot a glance at Ghyslaine, who was quietly amused.
She turned back to Allen.
"I—! Uh… got it!"
"Ghyslaine, she—! So what now?!"
Allen tilted his head, confused, before Ghyslaine chuckled.
"The Water God Style discussion. Eris wants to move on—why is it fine for me to release killing intent mid-swing, but she has to suppress hers?"
Eris nodded vigorously, her earlier slump vanishing instantly.
"Yeah! If Ghyslaine only lets it out when swinging, why can't I?!"
Allen exhaled, amused.
She's terrible at reading and math, but sword talk? Photographic memory.
Since she was back in tsun-mode, he'd humor her—lest Rudeus catch another slap.
"Because Ghyslaine's fast and strong enough that unless it's an extended high-level fight, by the time her opponent senses her killing intent—"
His hand sliced the air like a blade.
"—they're already dead."
"That's the Sword God Style. That's the Light of the Sword."
"I can do that too!"
"If you reach Ghyslaine's level, sure. But for now, hiding it is best."
Eris' face fell slightly.
"But Ghyslaine's a Sword King… I'm just a junior swordsman…"
Allen studied her briefly before saying,
"The path to Sword King is long. But one thing's certain—"
"—until that day comes, my Water God Style will protect you."
Ghyslaine suddenly cut in.
"You seem very confident in Lady Eris."
Allen paused—then grinned, his voice unwavering.
"Eris."
"Will become a Sword King."
"That's undeniable."
Silence.
Ghyslaine glanced at Eris.
The girl's eyes blazed with excitement.
"Can I get as strong as Allen?!"
"Yes."
"As strong as Ghyslaine?!"
"Yes."
Eris looked between them, then—
"Then who's stronger? Allen or Ghyslaine?"
Both froze, exchanging a glance. After a beat, Allen started,
"Ghyslaine is—"
Eris barreled on:
"I wanna see you two fight!"
Rudeus, finally catching up, paled.
"D-Don't be ridiculous! This is the courtyard! Allen wouldn't just—"
"Sure."
Rudeus' neck creaked as he turned, gaping.
Did Allen just agree?!
——
"Creak—"
The door opened, pulling Hilda's gaze from the treetops.
Sylphy stepped out of the sewing room, bathed in sunlight.
The pale blue dress fit her perfectly.
High-quality fabric and meticulous stitching gave her shoulders a poised elegance, balancing her still-developing frame. The ribbon at her waist accentuated the soft curves of her long-eared lineage, while the slit above the knee offered glimpses of slender calves.
If her previous dress screamed childish, this one whispered young lady.
Hilda clapped, delighted.
"It suits you wonderfully, Sylphy."
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 205 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 25 power stones I will publish the next chapter.