—
Present day: Ilifelen calendar, year 5212, Enoh, 12th.
—
It has been a little over a month since the Wanderers arrived in Ilifel, and most of them have settled in quite nicely—mostly all of them had been taken in by a family at this point in time.
Everyone except for one—Alum Miller. Though Rigeld wanted to take him in under the Ilifel name—even as the former emperor, it proved difficult due to the culture of the imperial structure.
And if Alum was to be taken in by the Ilifel Family, then he needed to wed into it. The gray-haired veteran didn't presume it to be a challenge, after all, his niece was already close to the boy, and they got along.
Based on his observation, why wouldn't the shrewd Alum not marry into the family? Even if he only liked Luna platonically and vice versa, he thought neither would be averse to the idea.
O, but he couldn't have anticipated the boy to have fallen for their saint—what's more unbelievable, their elegant saint, who'd shown no interest in romance before, actually liked him too.
Uhh… I get a headache just thinking about it. I did contact the Ilis Family heads, but since they have similar customs to us, he won't officially be a part of the Ilis Family until he marries Amethely.
Just as Rigeld heaved another sigh, his eyes landed on yet another letter that requested to meet Alum—presumably trying to take him in. Not only were they wealthy merchants, nobles, or royalty from the vassal states, but also royalty from other continents.
It didn't take a sharp mind to figure out most of them were after The Saint, and not Alum—why would they be? His records aren't as public as those who'd already been adopted into the other families.
The only thing they had to go off, other than his relationship status with the saint, was his appearance, presumed personality, and his estimated rank within the military.
All because he'll eventually be connected to the Ilis family…
But then… on the holographic slate, he saw something interesting.
"Oh…?" he mused aloud. "Seems like Ateles has taken an interest in you, Al," Rigeld grinned.
"The Guild Master?" Alum tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah, it's about the talk we had last month. The areas around Ilifel are safer than many other places on the continent—and since you're sooo eager to be sent on missions, I was thinking it'd be good for you to tag along with trusted adventurers."
—Eager? Nonsense.
"Affirmative," Alum nodded.
"Oh, and besides that, why don't we stop by the forge tomorrow?" Rigeld suggested as he leaned on the back of his hand.
"It's done?"
"Yup, and… heh…" he snickered. "It's more than what I'd hoped too."
"Is that so?" Alum smiled softly, amused by the sight of his grinning mentor.
…
..
Over the past few weeks, Alum has trained with the sword to become more proficient. As for the Magisteel, he already knew how to use it with precision—his only apparent weakness is close-range combat.
It was a weakness shared by many casters in general, but he wasn't the type to rely on others for cover. And so, clasping a blade in his hand, his eyes slowly lost focus on the figure in front of him was the Saint. Poised, she held a double-edged sword in her hands.
Her hair was tied with a red silk band from a cheap candy pouch, yet she treasured the mundane. As sweat trickled down her chin, Alum dashed toward her—their blades clashed, and without much effort, let his blade slide past her as the steel screeched.
As he stumbled forward, she moved to the side—swiftly, he got his footing back and countered with a vertical swing, only for Amethely to strike back, staggering him as her swings were too heavy for him.
But then, in just a second, Amethely went on the offense, striking his blade relentlessly as he had to fend off each and every attack—eventually falling on his back, panting as he was unable to hold the short sword in his hand. For a few hours, he'd been physically pushing himself—even as an already powerful mage, this wasn't something he was willing to compromise.
"You've gotten much better, Al," Amethely sweetly said, her divine sword fractured into gem-like light particles.
"Thanks," Alum took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling—only for Amethely to block the blank view as she bent forward.
Her silver-gray hair shone as the light behind her cast a halo over her. Just looking at her filled him with warmth.
"What is it?" Alum bluntly asked.
"Oh… um, I just wanted to look at your face," Amethely shyly smiled.
With a faint blush, Alum averted his eyes and rested his arm on his forehead.
"Is there something on it?" he softly inquired.
"Nnnh~ a cute expression?" Amethely teased, grinning adorably.
Closing his eyes, Alum chuckled.
"If you say so."
"Nn!" Amethely nodded.
Without a word, Amethely got down on her knees and crawled toward him, resting her head on his chest as she lay down beside him, her eyes fixed on his face with an endearing smile, her head tilted slightly to one side.
Just a moment ago, they'd sparred with real blades—Amethely with her Divine Weapon and Alum with a runic steel blade. And now… all the tension from the spar was gone, like it'd never taken place.
Usually, Alum practiced alone or with either Noel or David, where it wasn't one-sided, contrary to when he used magic.
This, of course, came to be since Amethely was a bit of a workaholic. It resulted in her being banned from using the labs passed regular working hours. Thus, she occasionally joined Alum if she wasn't with the others.
"Thanks…" Alum said, wrapping his arms around her. "Still, I wonder what happened? You were so conscious before, not even wanting to be close when we ran," he suddenly remarked.
Averting her eyes and burying her face in his chest, her ears turned visibly red. "Th-that's…" she murmured. "I-I thought you'd find me repulsive… being s-sweaty and all," she shyly stammered.
"I don't mind, and you don't seem to mind me being all sweaty at all."
"O-oh… that's because… I like seeing you work hard. And… you have a nice scent…" Amethely confessed as she clasped his shirt, subtly sniffing him.
"…"
"…"
"Hmm… whose a lewdie now?" Alum teased.
As those words escaped his mouth, Amethely shot up from his chest. Her eyes were slightly teary, and her cheeks puffed somewhat as she pouted.
"A-Al, y-you meanie, I'm not…" she paused… and then, "Wait, I-I might…" she panicked. "H-huh…? Huh!?" she exclaimed and covered her face.
Although self-aware of how others saw her, she didn't seem to be that aware of how she herself actually was.
"Don't sweat it," Alum said as he placed a soft peck on her head.
"…" Amethely's half-lidded eyes stared as she continued to pout—and his dry joke didn't help, but… or so she thought, and a smile couldn't help but crack through. "Mmmgh… I love you…" she whispered.
"…I love you too," he warmly replied.
"…"
"…"
"Al… your heart is beating so fast!" Amethely exclaimed, grinning devilishly.
"Mm. Well. I am alive," Alum replied monotonously.
Amethely blushed and averted her gaze. "Alive?" she sheepishly asked. "Nn… you obviously are…" she giggled, rubbing her head on his chest.
"…"
"Nuzzle, nuzzle, nuzzle," Amethely vocalized.
"Sigh… you're just too cute…"
"Nuzzle, nuzzle, nuzzle!"
…
..
Inside a workshop with loud machinery, the thuds of metal echoed as the sight of glowing metal being molded by large forging hammers slammed down rhythmically. The craftsmen worked on their pieces as they examined their work.
When Rigeld entered with Alum behind him, the workers continued to work diligently. Then, a three-eyed woman with horns named Fana approached them.
"We've been expecting you, Sir," she saluted briefly before getting down to business. "As per the request, a high-quality runic blade made using frostake steel heavily imbued with Mr. Alum's mana has been completed," she proudly declared.
"I've seen projections of it—but I'm impressed you've managed to finish it this fast," Rigeld said, smirking a little as he glanced towards Alum.
"Naturally, the team was excited to work on a personalized weapon for Mr. Alum."
"Oh?" Rigeld snickered a little. "And why's that?" he playfully inquired.
Fana chuckled a little. "Why, Sir asks? Well… Mr. Alum," she said, her voice trailed off a little as she glanced at Alum. "He's quite the powerful mage, and yet, he possesses no Divine Instrument—unlike the other wanderers, or the elite recruits who are to arrive at the base this very month. However, he doesn't appear to need one either, which excites us more—can you imagine the heights Mister would attain, and of course… perhaps some of that credit would come our way," she laughed mischievously.
"So… what do you think?" Rigeld asked as he nudged the boy beside him.
"Nothing. I have yet to see it—as you've been quite secretive," Alum replied.
"Aah, you're no fun," Rigeld shrugged.
Moments later, Fana led them to her office, where the weapon was—and as the doors slid open, a familiar figure was already there—her amethyst eyes were focused on the yellowish gem.
Amethely hadn't noticed anyone enter as she carefully programmed the CMI unit to the sword. Peering through the microscope, she held a pen wired to what seemed to be a tablet with various magic gates on display. Carefully, she altered the magic circles while softly tapping the tip of the pen on the CMI unit underneath the aureth gem, causing mana to pulsate through the circuits inside the blade.
"…"
Alum didn't call out to her, and the others didn't say a word. They looked at him as his facial muscles relaxed, tenderly smiling at her.
'What is she doing?' Alum asked in a whisper.
"Lady Saint is tweaking the instructions of the CMI unit. It's on the bleeding-edge, so it does require someone with extensive knowledge on instruction magic to tweak the unit's communication to the other components inside the blade's circuitry."
"…" Alum turned his gaze towards Rigeld, asking, "It's a catalyst too?"
"Ah… aaalways fast to catch on—yes, it is. You might not need assistance in raw elemental manipulation, but… isn't it always advantageous to be able to cast spells faster than your opponent?"
"Thank you," Alum simply said. What's pride if one's dead? He thought, thinking nothing of what could've come across as an insult—but he knew Rigeld wasn't that kind of character.
"Hm, she's focused—why don't you play a little prank on her?"
"Why? She's working."
"…" Rigeld sighed. "You're no fuuun~ just give her a little hug from behind or something, show her a more playful side—who knows, she might get bored with ya being boring all the time."
"…"
Mildly exasperated, Alum heaved a small sigh. He began to walk toward Amethely, and without saying a word, he slowly wrapped his arms around her stomach as he rested his chin on her head.
"…"
"…"
"Please cease this inappropriate behavior at once. I have a lover and Idonot appreciate this prank," Amethely said, her focus did not shift, but her tone was almost cold.
"Sorry," Alum apologized and took a few steps back.
"…"
"…"
The silence was unbearable for Rigeld and Fana to witness as they slowly made their way out of the office—but then, a few seconds later, Amethely stiffened on the spot, turning toward Alum with a look of confusion, embarrassment, and conflict.
"Hm? You done?" Alum inquired, tilting his head.
Without replying, Amethely leapt out of the chair and embraced Alum tightly.
"I-I'm sorry, Al! I-I didn't notice it was you and… and… I said those things!" she exclaimed. Teary-eyed, she clung to him, all shaken as she looked into his eyes.
"No. I should be the one to apologize. I disturbed your work," Alum replied, gently wiping her tears.
"But I said…"
"Oh? That… no—it made me quite happy." Alum covered his mouth; his cheeks were a hint of pink as he looked away. "Sorry… that was a bit possessive, wasn't it?" he added.
"Nn," Amethely shook her head. "Not at all… U-um… eh—ehehe… hearing that actually makes me quite happy too—that… you're a little possessive of me."
"Pfft… hahaha, I see," Alum laughed softly.
"Nn… hehe…" Amethely smiled adorably as she tightened the embrace.
Meanwhile… Rigeld and Fana peeked through the door.
"It's lovely," Fana remarked, wiping a tear.
"Ah, to be young," Rigeld added, handing her a handkerchief.
A few hours passed, and since Rigeld had already returned to his office. Alum watched as Amethely worked, and Fana would occasionally bring them treats.
"…It's done!" Amethely exclaimed, her eyes gleaming as she leaned back on the chair, stretching.
"Okay," Alum nodded, snacking on a chip.
"Wanna try it out?" Amethely suggested with a smug expression.
"Mm, sure."
Amethely reached for the single-edged short sword and handed it to him. But upon receiving it, he almost dropped the blade, not expecting it to be that heavy.
"…"
Alum stared at the deep blue sword; the edge had a shard-like pattern, while the circuitry was visible inside the groove. The patterns on the grip were reminiscent of waves and clouds. It was a beautiful sword, a work of craftsmanship that captured his character. However…
—I'm supposed to… wield this short sword equivalent to three greatswords in weight…?
"Oh!" Amethely exclaimed abruptly. "What's its name?" she inquired.
"Depth Cutter," Alum replied, not giving it too much thought.
If someone had guessed his thought process to be—The color is deep, it's blue, and it cuts. Depth Cutter…? Then they'd be correct.
A/N
Here's the chapter!
Apologies for the late updates. I haven't been able to write as of late, mind-blocked, can't really get myself to write honestly. It's fine when I do manage to write, but well… that and Helldivers 2 update, you'd think Hellmire was hell itself, oh boy… it was the gates to Satan's spawn called Oshaune.