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Chapter 20

Hm……

True to her moniker as the Purple Knight, Rachel’s purple hair flowed freely as she sat by the moonlit window, savoring the darkness.

As a child, she thrived in the daylight, but now found herself drawn to the night.

Her life, filled with hardships and struggles, had seemingly etched shadows upon her heart.

A mentor……

This afternoon, her Master had made an unexpected proposal that kept her tossing and turning all night.

Rachel swept her hand through her loose hair, her mind as tangled as her disheveled tresses.

How on earth am I supposed to do that?

She had never taught anyone.

Nor had she ever learned from anyone.

Her training started with a wooden sword, procured after pestered her father endlessly, and her early exploits involved wildly swinging at straw laid out in the fields.

She hadn’t walked a proper path of discipline; she had simply charged into battle, hacking and slashing without a care in the world.

So when Elden suggested she become his mentor, it was enough to make her lose sleep.

I never thought about having a student.

She had even said they would start training tomorrow.

Elden’s shortcomings were apparent to her; oh, how frustrating they were at times!

But—

She had no idea how to explain those shortcomings or what he should do to improve.

“Tsk.”

And let’s not even get started on what kind of weapon would suit a guy like Elden, who preferred to settle things with his fists.

It seemed absurd to imagine him wielding even a sword—the very weapon she specialized in—given his chaotic style.

She ran through a mental list of weapons: dagger, spear, axe, halberd, shield, bow… what would fit this wild child?

Sadly, hand-to-hand combat wasn’t Rachel’s forte either.

“Haaaa….”

With a long sigh, Rachel pondered why Elden suddenly wanted to commit to formal training. What a bothersome employer!

Whoosh-!

With a flick of her wrist, a small flame danced to life in her palm, a vibrant purple ember.

Whenever she faced a dilemma, Rachel found solace in her little fire-staring sessions.

She had observed Elden Raphelion long enough to predict he’d give up on this ‘training’ quest as soon as something irritated him.

After all, he was the type who lived life on easy street, blissfully ignorant of hard work.

Enjoying base pleasures over personal growth, he was more likely to seek short-lived thrills from booze and women than embrace the pain of progress.

Someone who wouldn’t even show respect to their parents couldn’t possibly endure a mentor’s reprimands.

After a few attempts and failures, his pride would surely cause him to bail out.

That was just how Elden Raphelion rolled.

Recently, he had begun showing signs of change for reasons unknown.

Could this be part of that change?

Although she had never feared him, whether he changed or not didn’t concern her—yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling that annoyances were on the horizon.

Whoosh.

Lost in thought, Rachel was reminded of her youth, memories of hacking away at straw flickering like candle flames in her mind.

Additionally,

《Hoh-. That’s quite the swing, sweetie! But wouldn’t it be better to hold the handle a bit lower?》

A nostalgic image of her father training her appeared, warmth radiating from his gaze.

To him, her ‘training’ might have seemed like child’s play, but if someone asked the Purple Knight who her mentor was, she’d confidently point to her father.

Those joyful moments had birthed the Purple Knight.

Thus, the weight of the word ‘mentor’ complicated her thoughts further—what if she succeeded, and against all odds, her teaching ignited a spark of aspiration in him?

Rachel had always lived her life aiming to give her best.

No task was too daunting for the sake of her development; she had tackled everything head-on.

She faced the challenges of life, viewing adversities as shortcuts to growth.

Then, at the end of her journey, she had found a comfortable spot in the sunlight, lounging away without a care.

Her exceptional combat skills landed her the title of a noble bodyguard; however, the nature of her job resulted in endless waiting, often leading to bouts of inactivity.

Her once-honed spirit had softened.

Maybe this would be a good opportunity to sharpen her blade anew.

Rachel extinguished the purple flame on her palm, rising from her seat by the window to face her reflection in the mirror.

The moonlight illuminated her curvaceous figure, clad in a delicate white silk dress.

The soft glow highlighted her beautiful, flowing curves, unmistakably mature.

Glancing at her reflection for a moment, Rachel then lay down on her bed to sleep.

The next morning,

“Sword.”

“Axe.”

“Bow.”

“Spear.”

“Dagger.”

“Shield.”

“Halberd.”

Rachel visited the rental armory, renting seven different kinds of weapons.

Uncertain of what her disciple might prefer, she ended up borrowing everything available.

The clerk stared at her in disbelief and asked,

“Y-You’re renting all of these?”

“Yep. Is there a problem?”

“N-Nothing at all. Just write down the purpose for the rentals, and I’ll get them for you.”

Looking down at the form the clerk handed her, Rachel took a pen and noted down,

[Purpose: Teaching Employer]

It felt like ‘education’ was the nice term for what might result in a serious lesson.

The clerk, seeing that, couldn’t shake the feeling that something intense was in store as he watched the Knight walk away, loaded with weapons.

He had a nagging feeling that something terrifying was about to happen, so he couldn’t help but watch the back of the female knight as she hurried out of the rental station, armed with seven weapons.

Knock, knock.

– Come in.

Having safely (?) arrived at the annex, Rendler knocked and opened the door.

Then he called out to Rachel, who was busy tying her hair into a ponytail.

“Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“The Lord will be waiting for you at training ground number six.”

“Understood.”

With her ponytail secured, Rachel stood in front of the mirror to check her appearance.

She absolutely hated looking messy.

This is why she preferred her hair cut to shoulder length, and she always tied it up into a ponytail during official duties.

A knight makes a lot of physical maneuvers in their job, and a mere 0.1-second obstruction to their field of vision could lead to life-or-death situations.

Still, maintaining a ponytail represented the minimal femininity she chose to hold onto.

Women stepping into a man’s world often have to sacrifice a lot to survive.

To rise above her inherent fragility, she had to work ten times harder, and shedding femininity was essential to become a top-tier warrior in a harsh world.

For Rachel, her ponytail was akin to clinging to the last remnants of her womanhood.

Or perhaps, it was just some lingering sentiment.

After finishing her hair, Rachel walked towards the display of weapons leaning against the wall.

As she did, Rendler pondered which weapon Rachel would choose for their Lord.

What weapon would she recommend to him?

Click.

Rachel slung a spear diagonally across her back.

Click.

She strapped the halberd diagonally opposite to the spear.

Click.

Then she swung a bow over her shoulder.

Click.

She tucked an axe into her left waistband.

Click.

She slid a dagger into her right waistband.

Click.

Rachel picked up a round shield with her left hand.

Click.

Lastly, she gripped a sword in her right hand.

“……?”

Seeing Rachel equipped with all seven weapons made her resemble a roaming armory.

Causing Rendler to stare in confusion, Rachel asked.

“Is there a problem?”

“No… I was just wondering if you’re headed off to war.”

“Ah.”

After looking at her reflection in the mirror, Rachel finally grasped his confusion.

“I brought them all since I didn’t know what The Lord would pick.”

“I see. Well, be careful on your way.”

“Yes. Then.”

With a light nod, Rachel made her way towards the training ground where her Lord awaited.

Clang.

Clink.

As she walked, the sound of her arsenal clanging echoed distantly.

Clank, clang, clang.

Rachel walked through the chaotic noise without uttering a word.

Having skimmed through the stench of death on battlefields, she used broken swords as daggers, spears without shafts as clubs, and swung damaged halberds like axes.

The only thing lying around more than corpses in a battlefield was discarded weapons.

Rachel had honed her skills wielding many kinds of weapons through sheer survival.

Her specialty was the sword, but as an autodidactic Arcane Knight, she had infused her magic into her weaponry.

Clank, clink.

People gawked and whispered at the sight of her ridiculous armory, yet Rachel didn’t pay them much mind.

As she pressed on, the entrance to training ground number six came into view.

And then it happened.

BANG!

The door burst open, and someone emerged from the training ground.

“?”

It was her Lord, Elden Raphelion, who seemed to be in quite a hurry for some reason.

Rachel stared at him as she spoke up.

“My Lord?”

“Oh, Rachel. Good, let’s hurry up.”

“Where are we going?”

Elden glanced back at the training ground with a smug grin.

It was the relaxed smile of someone who’d successfully planned a day of relaxation and healing.

“Let’s push the training to tomorrow. Today’s a day off.”

“W-What?”

With that, Elden dashed past Rachel, who could only stare at his retreating figure with an intense feeling of letdown.

She had hardly slept the night before, anxious about today’s training.

Had she prepared well enough for this mentor role? Countless worries plagued her mind.

The headache of articulating what she learned from battle kept her up all night.

Though the training was merely postponed, it felt like all those worries and concerns suddenly turned out to be pointless.

“……”

Her Lord ran off, oblivious to her feelings, as if something thrilling had just happened.

“Oh, what a nice day today~”

“……”

“Rachel? Aren’t you coming?”

“……I’m on my way, My Lord.”

Eventually, Rachel turned around and followed Elden, leaving behind a sense of inexplicable disappointment.

“And from tomorrow until the end of the Betrothal Contest, you’ll be sticking by my side everywhere.”

“Is something going to happen, My Lord?”

“Not yet, but a wise person should prepare for the unpredictable antics of villains, right?”

…Indeed they should.

Rachel grumbled internally at the irony.


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