Chapter 33: My Father Stroking My Head

Hm?

How could Vylian not notice the intense hostility lacing Fula’s words?

It felt like a sudden declaration of war.

Like a rival in love issuing a resolute challenge to another.

And such a challenge…

She would, of course, accept it.

Though it looked a bit like a love triangle, how could she, the Demon King herself, get caught up in that kind of mess?

But Vylian couldn’t just stand by and watch the Hero’s original harem members fall into place, one by one, into his arms.

If she let them pull the plot back on course, that would be a blatant disregard for her own life.

Vylian curled her lips into a smile and pretended to ponder for a moment. “I see~”

She stretched the final syllable slightly, making Fula’s heart pound with unease from a distance.

Fula watched as the black-haired girl approached step by step, stopping just a palm’s length away.

“I totally get how you feel.”

“But sadly~ the Hero’s type is me, not you.”

“A word of advice, Miss Fula. Some feelings don’t necessarily bear fruit just because you’ve been by someone’s side the longest.”

Fula sensed a terrifying aura.

It was an indescribable feeling.

Even though the other girl hadn’t done anything, even though her figure was so petite, just standing there, she felt like an invisible mountain, pressing down so hard that Fula couldn’t lift her head.

“I say, Miss Fula, wouldn’t it be better for you to find someone else?”

These words were blatantly excessive.

It was a declaration of sovereignty that left no room for the other party.

And there was an implied warning that if crossed, something terrible would happen.

“Don’t you think you’re being too domineering? Saintess, even if your status is noble, you shouldn’t be so selfish as to deprive others of the right to pursue love.”

“Hmm, but love is selfish by nature, isn’t it?”

Vylian’s smile remained gentle, but there was no warmth left in her eyes. “Don’t be fooled by my easygoing demeanor. My eyes don’t tolerate any sand.”

The moment those words fell, Fula felt a strange force drain the strength from her entire body. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground, unable to muster the energy to stand.

This wasn’t just psychological pressure. The other girl had actually done something.

The girl’s face was so soft and gentle, as if she were easy to talk to, but beneath the surface lay a terrifying, irresistible dominance.

“Miss Fula, please take care of yourself.”

Vylian paid no more attention to Fula, who was kneeling on the ground like a defeated dog, even though she was biting her handkerchief, as if something inside her had shattered.

After a while, Fula seemed to leave, though Vylian had no idea when. She didn’t care.

That forceful act earlier was just a performance, meant to cut off all hopes of the “first harem member.”

Come on, as if she would ever be interested in some puny Hero.

That Hero should stay single for life.

Vylian returned to the house, pulled out the history book she’d found earlier, and quietly read it, trying to learn more about this world’s past.

Before she knew it, it was noon.

Anlis’s father, Bolai Kachi, had returned from his farm work. Anlis had just woken up, the morning fatigue gone from her face.

“Even if you’ve become a Hero, you can’t be this slack.”

Seeing Anlis wake up at this hour, Bolai clearly wasn’t pleased.

Anlis could only scratch her head apologetically.

Maybe because she’d slept enough, her face no longer had that lifeless, morning gloom. Instead, she looked lively, with a rosy complexion full of energy.

“After you eat, come with me. There’s something I think it’s time to teach you.”

Bolai’s words were calm, but the determination in his eyes was crystal clear.

The gravity of his words was so clear that even Vylian, who was tying on her apron and carrying a dish past them, could see it clearly.

A strange sense of foreboding rose in her heart.

Teach?

Huh.

Well, she’d just sneak along and see what it was later.

“I understand.”

Anlis seemed to have some idea of what he meant and nodded solemnly, but she cast a guilty glance at Vylian.

Lunch was still Vylian’s doing, with Lisina helping out, no longer as clumsy as before, gradually gaining some skill.

After the meal, Bolai pulled a long stick tightly wrapped in worn cloth from some corner of the house. Soon, Anlis followed her father out of the village.

But behind them trailed Vylian, who simply wouldn’t shake off no matter what.

After a few futile attempts to lose her, Bolai stopped minding Vylian’s presence.

Anlis, of course, had no objection. She’d never thought this could be kept from Vylian. How could Vylian let her out of sight?

So, the three arrived at a secluded, hidden clearing in the woods.

Bolai unwrapped the cloth.

What came into view was an ordinary sword.

Vylian sensed it. There was nothing special about it—no lost treasure here.

Fair enough; if it were a legendary blade, it wouldn’t have been so tarnished.

“Anlis, now that you’re the Hero, you must have seen that I, your father, possess a unique swordsmanship.”

Anlis nodded.

[Imitation Dragon God Sword Technique]!

It was the sword art her father had etched into his soul, making it his talent, filled with stories.

It was the technique he could still perform flawlessly, through any medium, despite his crippled body and lost memories.

“I used to think that mastering this sword art was a gift from the gods, my chance to reach the peak of the Empire and humanity.”

Bolai’s gaze was distant, tinged with resignation. “Now, I think it was all fate’s design.”

“Perhaps I happened to learn this technique just so I could pass it on to you, the Hero, today.”

“This… is probably my mission.”

Bolai’s expression was deadly serious, and Anlis felt her heart tighten as she matched his solemnity.

“What? What’s this about?”

Only Vylian was confused.

After all, neither of them had explained the details; she only knew something about teaching a sword technique.

Wait a minute.

Wasn’t Anlis from a farming background?

Her father should have just been an honest, ordinary farmer.

What was this plotline about “my father is actually a hidden master, and once I dabble in martial arts, he’ll pass on a legendary martial art”?

“I’ll demonstrate it once. Watch closely. Learn as much as you can.”

With that, Bolai began to wield the sword in the clearing.

The blade whistled through the air, faintly mingled with the roar of a dragon. His body moved fluidly, as if a great dragon coiling.

The entire technique was grand and imposing, every strike radiating a sharpness born of countless refinements.

Anlis watched, mesmerized, and grasped a few patterns.

Though she couldn’t quite grasp the essence, her talent was still impressive.

She was about to share her insights and ask about her confusion.

But suddenly!

Her focused mind jolted as she remembered the uninvited guest behind her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vylian’s expression, grim to the extreme.

That gloom was so thick it could drip, but in the instant her father finished his stance, Vylian quickly hid it away deep within.

“So? Anlis, how much did you learn?”

Bolai’s eyes were full of anticipation.

Demonstrating once to gauge results was a test of talent.

If she were a genius, that single performance would have been enough to grasp most of it.

His daughter couldn’t possibly be lacking.

Anlis scratched her head with a sheepish laugh, her face a picture of innocent bewilderment, touched by a hint of blissful ignorance.

“Ah, it’s so hard! I didn’t learn a thing.”