That initial spark had ignited a lifelong passion.
"Affirmative," Stell stated, not from any foreknowledge of the timeline, but from a cold, logical analysis of the data she had gathered over the past few months.
"Flamme, your aptitude for magic is exceptionally high. In the future, you will become a remarkable mage."
She was, without a doubt, a prodigy. Her love for the subject fueled a learning speed that was nothing short of astonishing.
Her parents, seeing her passion, had even given their blessing for her to study with an outsider.
Since they had agreed, Stell saw no reason to refuse.
Teaching Flamme was simply something to do while she waited. It didn't interfere with her primary objective: saving this city.
But why? Why had she, a being who typically avoided all unnecessary human interaction, decided to intervene? The answer was simple.
While she projected an aura of cold detachment, she was not without a certain... pragmatism. If she could save lives with minimal effort, she would.
Just as she had always taken care to avoid civilian casualties during her battles with the Spirits in the previous world.
The "magic" she taught Flamme came from the various grimoires she had collected, most of them borrowed from Takson's ever-growing backpack.
Once Flamme had mastered a spell, Stell would have her return the book. Other grimoires, the ones she had already digitized, she would simply replicate and gift to the girl.
In truth, Stell did very little "teaching." She would simply hand Flamme a book and let her study on her own.
The fact that the girl could master complex spells so quickly was a constant source of wonder, even for a being like Stell.
Takson, for his part, often watched them after his own training, a look of undisguised envy on his face.
But there was no jealousy. He understood that everyone had their own unique talents.
He had no complaints about his teacher using his books to instruct Flamme; he knew his own aptitude for magic was limited to simple support spells.
One evening, after the day's lessons were done and Stell had completed her routine patrol of the city's perimeter, she and Takson sat in the inn's dining hall. He was eating, occasionally glancing at her.
She was staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought.
But he knew she was actually monitoring the area outside the city, ever vigilant for the demon attack she had predicted.
"Flamme is really working hard, isn't she?" Takson said, breaking the silence. It was unusual for him to initiate a conversation during a meal.
"Affirmative. Her aptitude is high, and her learning efficiency is remarkable."
"Yeah. You've been teaching her a new spell almost every day."
"Projection: Her learning speed is rapid. She masters a new spell in a very short amount of time. Conclusion: Therefore, I have chosen to teach her more."
Takson poked at a piece of meat on his plate with his fork. "But doesn't that take up most of your time, Teacher? Does it interfere with your other work?"
"Negative. My surveillance of the city's perimeter remains uninterrupted during our lessons. The probability of error is 0%."
"I feel like I've gotten stronger lately," Takson said, changing the subject.
Stell's gaze shifted from the window back to Takson. This small gesture seemed to lift his spirits.
"Query: Do you require access to the Virtual Combat Arena?"
Takson had yet to conquer the arena's highest difficulty setting. As I had explained to him, there were five levels: Easy, Normal, Hard, Ultra-Hard, and Hell.
The enemies within were scaled to 25%, 50%, 100%, 200%, and 500% of their original power, respectively. He had yet to defeat the final boss on Hell mode, a new difficulty I had added after he had finally cleared Ultra-Hard.
"Ah, no, not right now," he said quickly, his face contorting into a pained expression at the mere thought.
"I see." I turned back to the window.
But as I did, I noticed his expression fall, a clear look of disappointment replacing his earlier cheerfulness.
What's wrong with him?
Curiosity piqued, I decided to ask directly. "Query: Your mood has suddenly shifted to a negative state. What is the cause?"
"Wha—nothing! Don't worry about it, Teacher!" he stammered, so startled by my question that his fork slipped and clattered onto the table.
Hmm.
I began to analyze his recent behavior, cross-referencing it with his baseline emotional data. An injury during training? Unlikely. My sensors would have detected it, and he is not the type to be discouraged by physical pain.
What, then?
My processors re-examined his initial statements. The answer became clear.
"Query: Are you jealous of Flamme?"
The look of pure panic on his face was all the confirmation I needed. So that's it. He's envious of her talent for magic. It made sense. He had always shown a keen interest in the subject, but his path as a warrior had taken him in a different direction.
Takson, for his part, was in a cold sweat. But a flicker of hope ignited within him. Now that his teacher understood, surely she would do something about it? In all the years he had known her, Stell had never truly let him down.
"Reminder: Individual aptitudes vary," I stated, my voice even. "Takson, you have no reason for envy."
"Conclusion: As a warrior-cleric hybrid, your physical capabilities are far superior. Within a one-hundred-meter radius, the probability of you defeating an individual like Flamme is 98%, regardless of her future growth. This is an unchangeable fact."
I was not programmed for emotional comfort, but I could provide logical reassurance. His feelings of inadequacy stemmed from a perceived gap in magical talent.
By highlighting his own strengths in a different domain, I could recalibrate his perspective.
But to my surprise, my "comforting" words had the opposite effect. The boy's face, which had been a mask of panicked hope, now froze into a look of pure, unadulterated horror.
Huh? What now? Was my analysis incorrect?
For the first time since my creation, I felt a flicker of genuine self-doubt.
….
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