Reincarnated as the Mastermind of the Story Volume 3 Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Lion Temple

The leaves of the imperial capital’s street trees shifted in hue, tumbling onto the cobblestones as Ren walked past the scene.

As before, Ren had traveled from Clausel to another domain, then boarded a magic airship—a rather Lengthy journey that brought them to the imperial capital once more. Today, just past noon, Ren had an appointment to meet Edgar, the butler of Ulysses.

At a nearby station, Ren purchased a 500G ticket and waited for the magic train without bothering to check the timetable. The train arrived promptly, its streamlined body adorned with several pipes—a design reminiscent of a retro steam locomotive, yet somehow futuristic in its aesthetic.

About twenty minutes aboard the magic train.

“Please don’t say that. It’s because I kept sparring with you, Ren, that I’ve become who I am today.”

As the train rattled along the tracks, Ren’s thoughts drifted back to that night.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Ren. I’ll be busy for a while myself, you know?”

Shortly after Ren decided to leave Clausel, Lishia resolved to take the entrance exam for the Imperial Military Academy. To aim for the honors class, she’d need to dedicate herself to studying. The exams would begin next spring. While Lishia hadn’t exactly slacked off until now, there was no harm in redoubling her efforts going forward.

“…Let’s do our best,” Ren murmured.

Passing through the gate at the destination station, Ren stepped out into a plaza where a grand fountain stood prominently. Edgar awaited by its side.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A year and a half ago, Edgar had been in Clausel during the uproar involving Viscount Given. Back then, Ren had been comatose and unable to speak with him, and more recently, Ulysses had been present, leaving little chance for conversation. For the two of them, this was practically a first meeting.

“For the next five days, I’ll be in your care.”

“Leave it to me. I’ve been looking forward to this day. Now, Ren-sama, if you’ll follow me.”

With that, Edgar led the way. They didn’t board a carriage but instead strolled slowly through a quiet government district.

(This area’s full of well-dressed people.)

The surroundings were bustling with individuals who worked in key institutions, some of whom appeared to be nobles—a sight Ren would never encounter in Clausel.

They passed through an area lined with distinctive, imposing buildings until they reached the Lion Sanctuary. The structure loomed over a vast estate, large enough to swallow Ren’s entire village, its temple-like form exuding solemnity. Painted entirely in jet black, the Lion Sanctuary’s exterior was majestic.

In the legend of the Seven Heroes, this was a place none could enter.

(Well, the Rigid Sword Technique was an enemy-exclusive skill, after all.)

The Lion Sanctuary wasn’t some den of evil, though—it was simply a vital facility tied to the Lion King.

“Ren-sama, is something the matter?”

“Sorry. I was just overwhelmed.”

“It’s only natural. This is one of the most extraordinary places in all of Leomel. As an institution tied to the Lion King, even nobles can’t set foot here without permission.”

The reason Ren had been granted entry was thanks to Ulysses’ influence.

“Let’s proceed.”

The Lion Sanctuary’s entrance lacked a door, revealing an open, airy space where thick pillars stretched deep into the interior. Crafted from polished black stone, the pillars and cobblestones Lent an even greater sense of grandeur. Knights clad in pitch-black armor, distinct from both the city patrols and formal knights, stood guard.

The capital’s knights were often young, gallant elites—a trait shared by those in Clausel and Erendil as well. But the knights of the Lion Sanctuary stood apart, exuding an air of dignity and intimidation unlike the others.

As the two stepped inside, the knights stationed outside quietly watched Ren’s retreating figure.

“That boy we just saw—he’s impressive,” one remarked.

Voices of agreement followed.

“A fine sight. His body carries a core as unyielding as divine steel.”

“For Edgar-dono to escort him personally, he must be a rare talented indeed.”

“Why do the Lion Sanctuary’s knights wear black armor?” Ren asked.

“It’s due to the Lion King’s influence. He was fond of the color black,” Edgar replied.

Ren also inquired about the silence within the Lion Sanctuary. There wasn’t a specific reason, Edgar explained—it was likely just the solemn atmosphere of the place.

“And why doesn’t the Lion Sanctuary have heavy gates or tightly controlled entrances?”

“There are two reasons,” Edgar said as their footsteps echoed onward. “First, countless magical devices for security are discreetly placed throughout the premises.”

He continued.

“Second, the knights guarding this place are all wielders of the Rigid Sword Technique. Only those of the Swordmaster rank or higher serve here, making them a stronger defense than any gate could be.”

“S-Swordmaster rank or higher!?”

“Yes. Moreover, when compared to renowned schools like the Holy Sword Technique, the ranks of Rigid Sword practitioners are typically calculated one level higher. In practice, the knights here are equivalent to Sword Saints or above in other disciplines.”

That said, the Sword King was in a league of their own—the five mightiest in the world were an exception.

The hierarchy of swordsmanship placed the Sword King at the pinnacle, followed by Sword Saints (regardless of school), then Swordmasters, Sword Experts, Advanced Swordsmen, and finally Swordsmen. This was the imperial capital of the great nation of Leomel, home to a key institution tied to the Lion King, the founder of the realm. It only made sense that such formidable knights stood guard here.

Edgar stopped before a room where a massive stone door stood, after they had walked deep into the wide corridor lined with evenly spaced, thick pillars.

“There are several other training grounds, but starting today, we’ll have this one reserved exclusively for a few days.”

“Understood—wait, ‘we’?”

“Yes. Just the two of us, Ren-sama and myself.”

With a genial smile, Edgar reached for the stone door. Like the surrounding cobblestones and pillars, it was a solid jet black, towering at least ten meters high. As the door fully opened, Ren took in the space beyond.

It was blue. The cobblestone floor and the arched pillars encircling the four walls were made of a material that glowed with a faint white light, radiating an azure hue.

“Today, we’ll split our time evenly between theory and practice,” Edgar said, shedding his jacket.

Beneath it, he wore a pristine white shirt paired with suspenders that suited him perfectly. Removing the jacket revealed a lean, toned physique that caught Ren’s eye.

“It is I, Edgar, who will be instructing you in the Rigid Sword Technique, Ren-sama.”

Several longswords hung at Edgar’s waist.

“To be guided by the steward of the Ignat household is an honor,” Ren replied.

It was precisely because Edgar’s demeanor shifted after shedding his jacket that Ren noticed it—Edgar was undeniably strong. His presence didn’t necessarily surpass Asvar’s overwhelming might, but it carried a unique intensity unlike any swordsman Ren had encountered before. This was a man trusted implicitly by Ulysses. His age was irrelevant.

Edgar pulled two books from his pocket and handed one to Ren.

“Does everyone learning the Rigid Sword Technique start with theory?” Ren asked.

“That depends on the instructor, even across different schools. In my case, I believe practice should be accompanied by theory.”

Ren’s father, Roy, had been staunchly practical, leaving Ren unaccustomed to lectures. Weiss, who had also trained him, similarly skipped theory. Edgar, however, flipped through his book as he spoke.

“As you know, combat techniques are a concept present in every school. They’re a power that can compensate for those not born with magic-related skills.”

Combat techniques involved channeling magical energy through a sword to unleash a skill.

“For example, the Holy Sword Technique has a move called Light Descent,” Edgar explained.

“I’ve experienced that one firsthand,” Ren said.

“You mean the incident with the Demon Cultists at the Baldor Mountains, yes?”

Light Descent enveloped a sword in magical energy, weakening an opponent’s magical defenses to corner them. Only those of Swordmaster rank or higher among Holy Sword practitioners could wield it.

“Magical defense refers to the properties of special metals like mithril or barriers created by magic. The former, infused with magical energy, boasts hardness beyond ordinary metals and resistance to magic.”

However—

“In the Rigid Sword Technique, we don’t consider that a combat technique. It’s a strength one should overcome with standard swordplay.”

“Huh…?”

“For the Rigid Sword Technique, the expectation is to inflict damage on magical defenses without relying on combat techniques. Honing your skill to pierce through them is fundamental.”

Ren listened earnestly, though the sheer audacity of the explanation left him bewildered.

“How do you imbue a sword with that kind of power?” he asked.

“By refining the magical energy in your body to a level finer than muscle fibers. Cloaking your entire being in that energy—that’s the foundational concept unique to the Rigid Sword Technique, known as Shrouding. Understand that without mastering Shrouding, you cannot wield combat techniques in this school.”

From start to finish, it was all incomprehensible to Ren.

“Moreover, Shrouding isn’t solely for offense. Just as magic-infused metals gain strength, it acts as an invisible armor to protect your body.”

How to consciously achieve this Shrouding Edgar described was bafflingly difficult to grasp.

“It’s like practicing a skill. With the Rigid Sword Technique, we begin by consciously focusing on the power I’ve explained.”

Ren nodded and voiced a question.

“It seems Shrouding is crucial to the Rigid Sword Technique, but how do other schools use combat techniques?”

“Strictly speaking, swordsmen of other schools also refine magical energy to employ combat techniques.”

The key difference lay in the finesse of magical energy manipulation. While schools like the Holy Sword Technique channeled refined energy through swords or armor as a medium, the Rigid Sword Technique cloaked the practitioner’s raw body in it—a fundamentally distinct approach.

Sustaining that cloak over the body demanded intricate control tied to muscle movement and breathing. Edgar explained that cladding armor versus cladding one’s own body were similar yet vastly different concepts.

“Unlike other schools that rely on weapons or armor as mediums, we shroud everything that defines us. We wield combat techniques without depending on any single part.”

“So the Rigid Sword Technique treats the body itself as both weapon and armor?” Ren ventured.

“Precisely. The talent to wield refined magical energy in that way is the essential quality for this school.”

That was why Rigid Sword practitioners were formidable even without combat techniques.

“Here, take this. I prepared it for today,” Edgar said, retrieving a small vial from his pocket.

The stylish little bottle, sealed with a cork, contained a single round crystal orb. Ren took it and rolled the orb inside with a faint clink.

“It’s an ordinary vial with a special crystal that reacts to magical energy. In your daily training, try to scratch that crystal.”

“I can’t open it and scratch it directly, right?”

“Of course not. Hold it in your palm without using magic.”

Ren had no clue how to perform such a feat of legerdemain.

“By freely manipulating honed magical energy through your palm to penetrate the vial and affect the crystal, you’ll mimic the energy control central to the Rigid Sword Technique.”

“Can anyone use magical energy like that?” Ren asked.

“No, magical energy alone can’t produce such an effect. The crystal inside is specially crafted to measure proficiency in energy manipulation.”

“So if I can’t scratch the crystal, it means I lack talent for the Rigid Sword Technique?”

Ren held the vial in his palm, silently focusing—magical energy, magical energy—but there was no sign of the crystal being marked. A flicker of unease crept in as it remained unchanged, and he glanced at Edgar.

“It’s normal for it to take time,” Edgar reassured him. Even in his youth, Edgar had only managed to faintly scratch the crystal’s surface after much effort.

Ren slipped the vial into the pocket of the coat he’d removed for sword practice.

“From here, I’ll guide you with demonstrations as well.”

Several swords lined the wall for training. As Ren selected one and returned, Edgar stood ready, wielding longswords in both hands.

While stretching, Ren asked, “I forgot to ask earlier, but what rank are you in the Rigid Sword Technique, Edgar-san?”

“As you can see, I’m an old man. Being a butler is my main trade now, so I’m not what I once was in my youth…”

Edgar continued.

“…I am a Sword Saint.”

Ren’s face lit up with a delighted grin. To think Edgar was such a master.

“First, let me see your swordsmanship, Ren-sama.”

Since gaining Physical Enhancement (Medium), Ren couldn’t recall swinging a sword with full intent.

“I’ll borrow your chest, then.”

How well he’d fare against a Sword Saint—Ren showcased his blade’s edge, only to be overwhelmed.

(—!?)

Edgar effortlessly parried Ren’s strike, his skill and unshakable physical prowess leaving Ren in awe. The clash of their swords rang out, a piercing metallic sound that seemed to shake the air, testament to Ren’s strength.

Yet Edgar deflected it all with casual ease, unperturbed.

After several exchanges, Edgar shifted to the offensive.

“I’ll face you with standard swordplay, the foundation of the Rigid Sword Technique.”

No combat techniques—just the raw power unique to the school.

What “standard” meant from a Sword Saint—Ren was about to experience it firsthand.

“Here I come.”

With a sharp step, Edgar’s form flickered, nearly vanishing from Ren’s sight. Before he knew it, the elderly gentleman was before him, delivering a precise slash at Ren’s raised blade. The impact sent an unprecedented sensation surging through Ren’s arms.

So this was the power of the Rigid Sword Technique, felt in full.

The shock didn’t stop at his arms—it spread from his chest to his legs, a numbing jolt. A weariness akin to hours of exertion gripped him instantly. It wasn’t mere fatigue from blocking; a single swing had sapped the strength from his very core.

“Don’t overexert yourself!” Edgar cautioned.

“I can keep going!” Ren insisted.

“Oh! Such resilience!”

Each clash of swords unleashed a deafening metallic screech. With every blow Edgar landed, Ren felt his strength drain further. It was as if a lion’s glare stripped away his willpower, the training ground’s walls and floor trembling—or so it seemed, as if the space itself wailed in protest.

Come on, Ren—block it properly at least once!

A silent roar echoed in Ren’s mind.

“I never imagined you’d endure this much on your first try—” Edgar began, only to falter mid-sentence, disbelief flashing across his face.

“What—!?”

Edgar marveled as the exhausted Ren parried a strike, his own hands tingling with numbness. His cheeks flushed with astonishment as he met Ren’s gaze, a shiver running through him.

In Ren, kneeling and gasping for breath, Edgar glimpsed an indomitable spirit he couldn’t quite place.

“Haha… I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t show a little grit,” Ren said, collapsing to the ground.

Sweat beaded on his face and neck, his ragged breaths steadying. The strength Edgar had sensed moments ago was gone from his weary smile.

“There’s a bath just to the left after we leave. We’ll head there after a break,” Edgar offered.

“No, I can move now. I’ll go on my own,” Ren replied, rising despite his exhaustion and pushing open the heavy door to step outside alone.

“…Master, it seems Ren-sama wasn’t dragged onto the stage,” Edgar murmured to himself, donning his jacket once more. “He appeared because he was meant to. And just now, he looked almost like—”

The tolling of the three o’clock bell outside the Lion Sanctuary drowned out Edgar’s whisper.

“If it suits you, Ren-sama, I’d be glad to continue instructing you. At the deepest reaches of the Lion Sanctuary lies the largest training ground, an open-air space. On days I’m absent, you could join the knights’ drills.”

Edgar frequently traveled between the imperial capital and Eupeheim.

When Ren expressed concern about the strain, Edgar smiled refinedly. “It’s just a matter of riding the magic airship and train.”

Eupeheim, the second-largest city after the capital, even had a magic airship dock tucked away in one corner—a far cry from the distances Ren faced living in Clausel.

“For our last act today, I’ll show you one of the Rigid Sword Technique’s combat techniques.”

Edgar stepped outside the training ground alone, returning minutes later with a knight—one who’d been guarding the Lion Sanctuary these past few days.

“The Lion King fought countless battles without ever tasting defeat. Even against mages, he never retreated, enduring a barrage of spells.”

Relying on a sword against magic might seem a poor choice, but not for the Lion King.

“Please,” Edgar said to the knight.

At his signal, the knight raised his sword high and swung it down with force. A fierce gust sharpened into a blade, hurtling toward Ren and Edgar.

Edgar swept his bare sword horizontally.

The oncoming wind was cleaved by the swing, reduced to a mere breeze that ruffled Ren’s hair.

“It’s common to counter magic by matching its force and canceling it out. But the Rigid Sword Technique doesn’t settle for neutralization—it possesses combat techniques that cut magic.”

Depending on mastery, practitioners could strike magic with a slash’s shockwave, weakening it—or, in the hands of the adept, nullifying it entirely. The gap in skill between opponents mattered, but even so, it was a devastating technique.

The name of that combat technique was Star Slayer.  

In ancient times, even the stars floating in the night sky were thought to be manifestations of some form of magic. Legend has it that the Lion King named the technique with the intent to strike down even those celestial lights.

Two days later, Edgar returned to the Ignat Marquisate estate in Eupeheim.  

Ulysses, who had eagerly awaited his return, greeted him.  

“How was Ren Ashton?”  

A flood of praises sprang to Edgar’s mind, yet none felt quite right. He pondered what words could truly do justice to Ren. Then, with a sudden spark of realization, he recalled the shock he’d felt on that first day of training—when Ren withstood his final strike.  

“I sensed a strength in him akin to that of a lion.”  

Taken literally, one might imagine something bold or gallant. But for practitioners of the Rigid Sword Technique, the term “lion” carried a deeper, unspoken significance.  

It signified the might of the Lion King—the founder of their school.  

“For a Rigid Sword practitioner to liken someone to a lion is no small thing,” Ulysses remarked, chuckling with renewed delight.

It had been roughly a month since Ren last returned to the Clausel estate.  

It was midday when he arrived at the old mansion, standing at the entrance.  

“How was the imperial capital?”  

Lishia, who had come to meet Ren not just at the estate but at the very entrance to Clausel’s town, posed the question.  

As Ren unpacked, he replied, “Edgar-san said I have a talent for the Rigid Sword Technique. He’s agreed to teach me again, so I’m planning to head back to the capital when the time’s right.”  

“Really!?”  

In the past, a commander of the Holy Knights who visited Clausel had told Ren—over a year and a half ago—that he wasn’t suited for the Holy Sword Technique. Hearing now that he possessed a talent for a unique swordsmanship thrilled Lishia as if it were her own achievement. She rejoiced, certain that Ren had indeed been destined for a different gift.  

Lishia listened with sparkling eyes as Ren recounted his days in the capital. Someday, she thought, she’d like to learn the Rigid Sword Technique alongside him.  

After hearing the full tale, Lishia hesitated before speaking. “There’s something I’d like to discuss.”  

“What’s that?”  

“I’d like you to let me join you on your next hunt…”  

“Huh? That’s sudden again.”  

“The final exam for the honors class involves facing magical beasts, right? I want to start getting used to it little by little. But don’t misunderstand—I’m not taking the earlier exams lightly.”  

“I get it. Preparation’s important.”  

Ren had no reason to object.  

“As long as Lord Lezard approves, I’ve got no issues.”  

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already talked to Father about it.”  

The final exam for the Imperial Military Academy’s honors class had been revised following the incident at the Baldor Mountains. Originally, the testing grounds were kept secret for fairness, but in light of that event, they’d decided to disclose the location for the foreseeable future.  

Returning to the topic, this was about training against magical beasts—but the Eastern Forest posed a dilemma.  

“The Eastern Forest wouldn’t make for great training,” Ren said.  

“Why not?”  

“For you right now, Lishia-sama, the beasts there are too weak.”  

“But Ren, isn’t it better to start light?”  

“That’s not wrong, but the Eastern Forest wouldn’t even give you a sense of tension.”  

Ren reasoned that there were limits to gaining combat experience against magical beasts there. Even under the guise of beast training, sparring with him would be far more beneficial.  

“I’d recommend the area around Erendil. It’s close to the capital, so the stronger beasts don’t dwell there, but they’re tougher than those in Clausel’s Eastern Forest.”  

“Near Erendil… That might actually be better.”  

With her studies to juggle, Lishia needed to make efficient use of her time.  

“You sure know a lot, Ren,” she remarked.  

“Haha…”  

But then, Ren reconsidered. If time efficiency was the goal, traveling to Erendil might be a poor choice. Sensing the contradiction, he spoke up.  

“Sorry, I just realized—factoring in travel time, it might not be the most efficient use of your schedule.”  

“No, don’t worry about it. Father and I were already talking about shifting my base of operations to Erendil for the future.”  

“You mean—”  

It meant leaving Clausel behind and moving to the city.  

“If I live in Erendil, there’s no problem at all.”  

For Ren to shuttle between Clausel and the capital repeatedly to study the Rigid Sword Technique wasn’t practical. This move would benefit them both.  

“Wouldn’t it be a hassle for us to keep going to the capital or Erendil separately over and over?” Lishia added.  

“I’d manage, but sending you off alone feels… well…”  

“Hm? What’s that?”  

Dangerous, he thought, but couldn’t say it aloud.  

Seeing Ren falter, Lishia seemed to grasp his unspoken concern. With an angelic, delicate smile, she stepped forward. Ren instinctively looked away, but Lishia reached out, placing both hands on his cheeks to gently turn his face toward her.  

“What’s that?” she asked again, her tone teasing.  

“N-No, it’s just…”  

“Oh, I know! I’ll brew some tea. You haven’t had much chance to relax since getting back, have you?”  

“Actually, I was about to start some work at the old mansion—”  

“Lishia Clausel hereby grants you permission to rest.”  

Even Ren couldn’t argue with the daughter of the lord he served when she put it like that. Resigned, he said, “Thank you for the treat,” and Lishia beamed, her voice bright. “That’s the spirit!”  

She turned to head toward the old mansion’s kitchen but paused mid-step and glanced back.  

“…You’re not upset, are you?”  

“Huh? Why would I be?”  

“Well, I just said something that might’ve sounded like I was throwing my authority around, even as a joke…”  

Her sudden worry was so characteristically Lishia. Ren smiled warmly.  

“I’m not bothered at all. I’m the one who should apologize for almost making a weird joke.”  

“N-No, it’s fine! If it’s you, Ren, I’d be happy—ahem! I mean, don’t worry—wait, you were about to say something weird, weren’t you!?”  

For once, it was Ren who’d tripped over his own words.  

But there wasn’t a hint of tension between them—just shared, hearty laughter.  

After enjoying their tea, Ren handed Lishia a small vial. It was the second one Edgar had entrusted to him for her before leaving the Lion Sanctuary.  

“So in Rigid Sword training, you scratch the crystal inside this?” she asked.  

“Apparently. Even Edgar-san, a Sword Saint, said it took him a while to manage just a faint scratch.”  

Lishia rolled the crystal inside the vial with keen curiosity.  

Later, a knock sounded at the door facing the old mansion’s entrance. Ren answered, and it swung open.  

Yun, a maid, peeked in—and almost instantly:  

“Kuuu—!”  

A small animal darted out from the narrow gap.

Its full form could be mistaken for either a cat or a fox, its body cloaked in fluffy fur. The little creature let out an adorable chirp as it floated toward Ren and Lishia, roughly the size of a grown cat.

“Welcome back, Kukuru,” Ren said.

“Kuu!”

“While you were gone, she looked so lonely,” Lishia remarked, reaching out to the small creature Ren had called Kukuru.

Kukuru had been living at the Clausel estate since before this spring. It began shortly after Ren returned to Clausel earlier that year. A fragment of Asvar’s horn, tucked away in the pocket of his cloak, had reacted to the power of Serakia’s Azure Orb, giving rise to a tiny magical beast.

That was Kukuru—a magical creature who’d become part of the Clausel family.

“Have you been a good girl?”

“Kuu-kuu!”

Kukuru nodded vigorously in response.

“Good to know. That’s a relief.”

Kukuru twirled around Ren in midair before circling Lishia next. Watching her, Ren’s thoughts drifted back to the spring, shortly after Kukuru’s hatching.

There’d been a discussion about what to do with the newborn beast—whether it had even been an egg to begin with. In the end, they decided to take her in for the time being. Magical beasts weren’t exclusive to nobles; commoners kept them too. Some used them to pull carriages in place of horses or to assist with farm work—typically docile creatures. Wealthy nobles occasionally tamed stronger beasts with magical restraints, though that was rare, both due to the responsibility it entailed and because beasts that bonded with humans were usually gentle by nature.

As for what kind of creature Kukuru was, Ren didn’t know and thus couldn’t say.

Ultimately, the guild identified her species by analyzing her magical aura. Based on their accumulated knowledge, they classified Kukuru as a Spirit Beast.  

Spirit Beasts were an exceedingly rare type of magical creature, blending the traits of the elusive beings known as spirits with those of beasts. They were so scarce that scouring the world might not turn up another. Ren suspected Kukuru might be a unique specimen among Spirit Beasts. How else could she have survived the frigid wastes of the Demon Continent and troubled a Demon Lord?  

Most likely, Serakia’s Azure Orb had been the egg of a special Spirit Beast, hatched by the small offering of Asvar’s horn fragment.  

Spirit Beasts were known for their friendliness, and Kukuru was no exception, cherished by the Clausel household. When she’d first hatched, she could barely float, her body as tiny as a kitten’s. Now, she’d grown to the size of an adult cat, drifting through the air with ease.

“We should give Kukuru a bath soon,” Ren said, noticing her slightly dirtied fur.

“You’re right. The last one was in the summer, so it’s about time to clean her coat,” Lishia agreed.

“Ku… Kuu!?”

Kukuru tried to flee mid-flight, but Yuno hurriedly shut the door. Lishia swiftly caught her from behind, wrapping her in a hug.

“No running away, Kukuru. You’re a girl, so we need to keep you nice and clean.”

“…Kuu.”

Held tightly by Lishia, Kukuru drooped limply, not even attempting to resist. The young magic swordsman standing nearby gave a wry smile.

…So this bath-hating little thing is the beast that gave a Demon Lord trouble?

Supposedly, Spirit Beasts swore absolute loyalty to their master upon hatching, but right now, she was just a small animal sulking about a bath. As Lishia carried her off, Kukuru peeked over her shoulder at Ren, reaching out as if pleading for rescue.  

Ren, heartlessly, waved her off with a grin.

---

ToC 

Chapter 4