Chapter 42: You Could At Least Be Gentle About It!
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The Evilus remnants needed to be dealt with before the Ganesha Familia's Monster Festival. When Kihara brought the full picture to Ouranos, the white-haired giant who usually carried the composed patience of someone who had seen everything did something unusual — he let the anger show.
He had given up his freedom and taken this throne to hold back the dungeon's creatures, to protect the world below and the people in it. The idea that remnants of Evilus were still in Orario, still planning, still working toward the same ends.
He didn't say any of this aloud. The expression said it.
"The poaching Familia you've identified — I've already sent Fels to investigate. Rest for the next two days. When the time comes for the operation, I'll have him contact you."
"One more thing."
Kihara produced a small object from his pocket — a crystal carved into the shape of an eye, roughly spherical.
"I took this off a poaching leader a while back. I never worked out what it does. Since Fels is handling the follow-up investigation, he might as well take it."
"Thank you. After the remnants are dealt with, your second task will be complete."
Ouranos paused. "Regarding the Black Dragon — I've decided to lower the requirement. Locating where it sleeps will be sufficient."
Kihara raised an eyebrow. "You're not having me kill it? I was actually looking forward to being a dragon slayer."
"Its capability is estimated at Level 10 or above. You're not there yet. You've done exceptional work on the first two tasks. I would rather not see a hero with your potential end there."
"Level 10 is genuinely challenging, I'll grant you that. Anyway — I need to get back and make Hestia lunch. See you."
"Farewell. Hero from another world."
In the Loki Familia's training grounds, two figures moved against each other — one black, one gold. When the black figure's speed broke the sound barrier and a sharp crack rolled across the yard, the gold figure's defence collapsed completely.
This is what he's been hiding.
Aiz felt the sweat at her temples and pushed her reading of the situation as far as instinct would carry it. Against Kihara at this speed, conscious reaction time wasn't enough — she was operating entirely on trained reflex.
The additional constraint made it worse. Before they'd started, he had specifically told her not to accelerate to sonic speed. No Ariel, no full enhancement. She was locked into meeting his attacks with technique alone, catching and redirecting strikes that arrived from angles she hadn't seen before, with a precision she hadn't developed a defense for.
His reasoning, from her perspective, had gradually become clear. The adventurers of Orario — herself included — had optimised heavily toward raw parameters and equipment quality. The Falna system rewarded that approach and punished the investment of time into technique that might produce smaller immediate gains. It worked, against dungeon monsters. Against anything that could read patterns, it became a liability.
Her own combat logic, reduced to its core: activate Ariel to amplify everything — close distance — Desperate Sword — if the target was too durable, apply Whirlwind. Against monsters, that sequence was essentially unchallengeable. Against a person, it was a pattern. Patterns could be broken. And once broken, they could be reversed.
So he had removed her parameters advantage and told her to figure out what was left.
The wooden training sword caught her lower leg with a clean, heavy impact. She locked her jaw and pulled air through her teeth.
Kihara stood in front of her, frowning.
"Why didn't you block that one? You don't drop your guard just because I haven't attacked for a few seconds."
"Understood."
"Stop imagining you're a skilled duelist with a legendary build. Start imagining you're someone with nothing to work with except technique and reaction time. Win from that position first — then your actual parameters become a multiplier rather than a crutch."
The specifics of the reference were lost on Aiz. The principle wasn't. She straightened her aching leg, and the look in her eyes had the particular quality of someone who has found something they needed.
"Please continue."
"Focus."
Riveria had thought ahead and closed the training ground to the rest of the Familia for the afternoon. This was wise. The version of events visible from outside — Kihara working Aiz over with a wooden sword until she was covered in bruises — would have resulted in an intervention by multiple people with strong feelings about the matter.
"Does this hurt?"
"No."
"Mm."
He pulled his gaze from her determinedly neutral expression and pressed his thumb into the bruised muscle of her calf.
"Ah—"
The sound was sharp and short. Both hands flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes glistened.
"Stop pretending. Pain is pain — there's no reason to hide it." He sat back. "Lie down, get the breastplate and arm guards off. I'll work through the muscles, then we'll put treatment salve on."
Aiz, who had lost the argument with her own pain tolerance, removed her armour and lay face-down on the bench. She swept her gold hair aside, exposing a back that was a detailed record of the afternoon's lesson in shades of blue and purple.
"Shame there's no cupping equipment. Good canvas for it."
He said this entirely to himself, then got to work.
The sensation was strange in a way Aiz couldn't immediately categorise. Pain and something else — a warmth that moved through the muscle and produced a secondary effect she was less certain about, something that had her pulse running faster than the discomfort alone would account for. She couldn't sort out what the feeling was. She decided she wanted time to move a little more slowly than it was.
[Master. Is this actually muscle relief technique?]
[What else would it be? I use the same method when Lili gets leg cramps in the middle of the night. Unless you're questioning my competence.]
[No, nothing like that. I just find myself feeling unexpectedly sympathetic toward Aiz.]
[...Why?]
When the session ended, Aiz sat up, flushed and still catching her breath. She glanced at the breastplate sitting on the bench beside her, tilted her head for exactly three seconds, and turned toward him.
"You can touch it if you want. Without the armour."
"Hm?"
"It's a thank you."
There wasn't a reason to decline. His hand came to rest on the considerably softer reality that the breastplate had been concealing.
"How does it feel?"
The same question as before.
"Very good."
"Oh."
Their eyes met in a way that was slightly less accidental than the previous ones had been. Aiz, with the expression of a moth that has noticed a flame and found itself unable to apply the obvious conclusion, felt her lips part slightly on their own. She let herself lean forward.
"AIZ!! MY AIZ!!"
Loki's voice arrived at the training ground at approximately the same velocity as Loki, who crashed through the entrance wailing with the energy of someone who had arrived at a scene of terrible injustice.
She looked at Aiz. She took in the collection of bruises on display. She looked at Kihara. She pressed a handkerchief between her teeth with both hands and directed the full force of her grievance at him.
"You couldn't have been gentle with her?!"
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Thank you for reading.