All in all, since elves tend to be slim and lightweight—especially Moon Elves—they were generally more inclined to use light weapons. It was truly rare to see any of them wielding heavy weapons.
But given the elves' long history and lifespans, who knew? Maybe this girl called Nymeria had mastered some esoteric and hard-to-find Feats…
Thinking that, Charles looked genuinely excited. "Wow, meeting you's my lucky day, Miss Nymeria. I've been working on fighting with a twin-bladed polearm myself lately—please, teach me anything you can!"
Nymeria grinned, relaxing instantly. "Twin-bladed polearm? I know a thing or two! That's great! Hehe, guess I'll settle in here. Oh hey, do you guys really eat like this every day?"
She pointed at the dishes on the table, her eyes sparkling with hope. Charles instantly understood—so this girl was a foodie, too.
Well, being a foodie was a good thing—at least she was easy to please, so he didn't have to worry about her kicking up a major fuss.
He nodded, smiling, "Of course. If there's one thing we never lack at this monastery, it's gourmet food."
Nymeria immediately jumped to her feet. "Awesome!"
Watching her bounce around so cheerfully, Charles became even more convinced she was underage. After weighing for a few moments, he finally voiced his suspicion. "Forgive me for asking, but… are you of age?"
Nymeria froze, then did her best to look offended, putting her hands behind her back and faking a grumpy, deep-voiced glare. "Asking a lady about her age is really impolite, Priest Charles. Don't you humans have this rule?"
Charles quickly apologized—but at that point, he was absolutely certain.
This elf was definitely not an adult!
Yikes, I really hope this doesn't cause some kind of trouble…
He thought about it as Nymeria, catching sight of his apology, broke into a wide grin again—glancing at his face and shoveling food into her mouth as if his good looks were a side dish that fueled her appetite.
Her flat little belly was like a bottomless pit—no matter how much she packed in, it never got full. Was it just a huge appetite, or maybe she'd starved beforehand?
Watching her wolf down her meal, Charles had a sinking feeling. The future of this monastery was going to be a little crazy with this elf around…
"Ah, I'm so full…"
Half an hour later, Nymeria finally finished her meal and slumped contentedly in her chair, patting her round, stuffed stomach, closing her eyes. Her pretty face was pure satisfaction. "So comfy… Burp—!"
She let out a not-at-all ladylike burp, slapped a hand over her mouth, glanced at Charles in embarrassment, and giggled, "Sorry, I ate too much and couldn't help it. Hehe…"
Charles smiled and told her it was fine. In his heart, he was now certain she wasn't anywhere near adulthood.
She might actually be one of the really young ones!
Elves weren't born elegant. Their delicate build gave them the right look, but no intelligent race is naturally prim and proper. All those graceful habits were the result of over a century of etiquette training. The reason other races saw elves as the paragon of elegance was only because, by the time you met one, she'd likely had a hundred years to drill it in.
This elf girl, apparently, hadn't had time for that yet.
With this in mind, he asked, "Did the nuns find a room for you? Want to go rest a bit? No rush on the battle training."
Nymeria wiped her mouth again with her handkerchief and shook her head. "No need, I hate afternoon naps. I'd rather go work out after I eat and walk it off."
She turned to Charles suddenly, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Rumor has it you're the hero who defeated the Abyssal Lord of Montport? Shoot, I'd just arrived in Liberl Port and missed all the action."
"So, wanna spar?"
Charles thought her words could be taken a lot of ways, but seeing the anticipation on her face, he nodded. "Sure, if you don't mind a workout right after eating."
He stood up and led Nymeria out. As the elf girl walked, her pointed ears quivered—maybe from natural excitement, maybe because she was still pumped.
They headed to Charles' private training room. As soon as they walked in, Nymeria started looking around wide-eyed at all the steel training equipment, thoroughly impressed. "Wow, didn't expect you to have such a fully stocked place!"
Charles laughed. "Naturally. When you have money, you gotta spend it on blades and training—raise your strength, right?"
Nymeria's eyes shone brighter, and she kept sneaking glances at Charles. This guy's not only rich, but he doesn't mind spending money… That grump Kowal can't be bothered to deal with people, that's why the Church of the Goddess of Life is always broke and can barely scrape by.
Heh, well, I'm not him. I'm going to get all the free meals I want!
Charles, not knowing what she was plotting, walked to the wall and grabbed a wooden practice twin-bladed polearm. "What weapon do you use?"
Nymeria shook her head. "No need, I'll use this!"
With that, she eagerly pulled a purplish red greatsword from her Bag of Holding. "This is my weapon!"
Like that, her entire aura changed. Her cheerful smile vanished, replaced by a cold, intimidating edge that sent chills down Charles's spine.
Charles turned and stared at her greatsword, his eyes narrowing.
What a sword—it wasn't straight but wavy, like the undulating movement of a serpent. But what really caught Charles off guard wasn't the shape—it was the strong fiendish aura radiating from the blade.
Thanks to his blessing from Earth Dragon Galleon, Charles could use "Hunter's Mark" at will, and right away he felt something different about her weapon.
Nymeria's blade… definitely had a story behind it.
As he pondered, Nymeria suddenly shivered. Her icy attitude melted away, replaced by her usual bright eagerness. "You're really going to use a wooden sword? No wonder you took down the Abyssal Lord—you've got guts!"
"So… I'm coming at you, okay?"
She raised her greatsword and readied an assault pose.
Charles quickly waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa! Hold up! We're sparring here, not trying to maim each other—why are you using a real weapon?"
Eyeing the sword, he grabbed a wooden training greatsword off the wall and tossed it to her. "Use this."
Nymeria looked crestfallen as she swapped weapons. "This? I'm not used to it…"
Charles chuckled, "Give it a shot. Use a little magic to adjust the weight, make it fit your grip. No one spars with the real deal!"
Nymeria pouted. Not fair—I've never even played with this kind of weapon before! But considering Charles would probably be her meal ticket from now on, she set aside the grumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll use it. You penny-pincher."
Muttering, she stowed away the greatsword. Instead of picking up the wooden greatsword, though, she glanced around. "Wait, do you have another twin-bladed polearm? I want to play with that, too!"
Charles blinked. "You really know how to use twin-bladed polearms?"
Twin-bladed polearms were rare—barely anyone in the world could actually wield them well.
Honestly, Charles couldn't, either. He relied on his Hexblade class's powers—resonating his magic with his weapon to wield it almost instinctively.
So he was shocked when Nymeria raised her chin with a proud grin. "Of course I do! My grandma was a 'Revenant Blade'!"
"As her descendant, how could I not have learned all that?"
Charles's eyes widened. "Revenant Blade" was the ancient title for elf masters of the double-bladed scimitar—he hadn't expected this girl to have such a rare and ancient heritage.
Well then…
Charles's gaze turned ravenous, as if he were staring at a fat, juicy sheep.
Heck, if your family has a heritage like that, I'm not holding back!
"Use mine first," he said, handing over his own twin-bladed polearm and striding off. "I'll fetch another from the storeroom."
He walked off toward a remote little storeroom—well, "fetch" was a stretch; really, he used the system to generate a brand new wooden twin-bladed polearm as a replacement.
Despite being wooden, it was laced with magic, so the weight matched Montport's twin-bladed polearm exactly—this way, he wouldn't slip up in real combat after getting used to the trainer.
Once satisfied, he returned to the training grounds, full of anticipation. "Alright, Nymeria, show me what you got!"
Nymeria broke into a confident grin, her weapon already magically adjusted for weight. "Trust me, my technique is old-school master level!"
When Charles called, "Begin!" the two rushed in and clashed.
The very first exchange, Charles felt immense pressure. He spun his twin-bladed polearm down on Nymeria, but before he could follow through, she deflected his blades with surgical precision—sending his weapon askew.
Her polearm's other end twisted up, almost striking him in the shoulder. Charles had to awkwardly leap backward—completely losing the initial advantage.
Nymeria's eyes sparkled as if she'd finally found a worthy rival; her whole body radiated excitement. Her long, pointed elf ears twitched, and she leaped forward, spinning her weapon left and right to press the attack.
Charles kept backpedaling, trying to bait out an opening for a counter, but Nymeria spun her polearm defensively, leaving him zero chance. Her pace was relentless—she looked set on overwhelming him in a single rush!
"Hey!" Nymeria suddenly called out, "Can we use magic?"
Charles, getting thoroughly dominated, was tempted to say yes—maybe use a spell or two and flip the tables.
But on second thought, he shook his head. "No, just pure technique!"
This was a spar, meant to expose weaknesses and improve skills. If he covered up with his strengths, he'd just be cheating himself.
Nymeria didn't press the point and kept up her assault. Charles caught his breath and shifted tactics—recalling the "Power Attack" Feat, his body started flooding with magic. Suddenly he stopped retreating and, channeling all his power, slammed his polearm down in a head-on attack—
But Nymeria was as graceful as a dancer; she spun away from his attack by a hair's breadth, her body and weapon blending into a perfect motion. The other end of her polearm flashed sideways—
BANG—
Charles took the wooden polearm to the chest and had to stagger back. Nymeria smirked, "I score first!"
Charles couldn't argue. "Go again!"
They sparred back and forth. Charles, intentionally handicapping himself, couldn't keep up with the nimble elf; he wound up losing 5–13 before the two collapsed off to the side, out of breath.
Sipping hot water, Charles turned to Nymeria. "That was awesome—what technique was that?"
He actually knew—it was the Revenant Blade Feat, boosting certain stats, adding a bit more bite to twin-bladed polearm damage, and letting you use it defensively. All in all, a great all-around weapon feat.
"My grandma taught me," Nymeria replied, smiling. "It's all about using the twin-bladed polearm's defense. You want to learn?"
Charles feigned hesitancy. "Wouldn't that be a secret family technique…?"
Nymeria burst out laughing. "Not at all! Everyone in my grandma's old unit got the manual. She just practiced the most and had the best insights."
"The old elf empire's long gone anyway—no point keeping the old rules. If you want, I'll teach you! Just buy me snacks and fun stuff now and then!"
Seeing that earnest, innocent smile, Charles felt some of his stress melt away. He nodded. "Deal—your snacks are on me from now on."
Nymeria's grin widened. Then she suddenly asked, "Oh, right—have you ever taken the Adventurer's Guild class level assessment?"
Charles blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, I have."
Nymeria's eyes shone. "So what level are you?"
"Ninth," Charles replied. He actually hadn't done the test, but according to the system, he was level nine—so close enough.
Right, hitting ten would need sixteen thousand Purification Points—he'd already saved enough and just needed to find time to level up.
As he thought this, he saw Nymeria slap a hand over her mouth in shock. "Nine? You beat the Abyssal Lord at just level nine?"
Charles hesitated, then nodded again. "Yeah, nine. But don't put too much faith in the Adventurer's Guild's system. Their evaluations are all sorts of busted—those levels don't represent true strength."
Nymeria nodded in understanding. "Makes sense! Anyone who can beat an Abyssal Lord is capped at level nine… It's gotta be a flawed system!"
Charles chuckled, then did some quick math. With his ability to cast 5th-level spells, and that massive spell slot reservoir—factoring in those extra spell slots and exotic blessings—if he converted it all to Warlock class levels, he'd be… about level five?
Sure, apart from absurd mana reserves, warlocks weren't crazy strong, but with this plus another level-up, he'd hit about level fifteen overall.
Thinking this over, he smirked. "Don't just ask me—what about you?"
Nymeria straightened up, looking proud. "Level seven eldritch knight, plus a part-time level six in War Pastor specialization. The guild gave me a combined rating of level thirteen—how about that? Way higher than you, right?"
Charles' expression went a little strange. "Uh, yeah. Definitely."
He said it politely, but his heart was somewhere between pity and frustration.
Seriously—a level seven eldritch knight and a level six war pastor… Either alone was already pretty good, but mashed together as a level thirteen character…
Charles couldn't help looking at her with genuine sympathy and a twinge of 'if only you trained right' exasperation.
Why do you locals always insist on mixing classes this randomly?!
Oh well, it wasn't the first—or last—time. Guess I'll just have to be the one to teach you all how to really get strong…
...
Rubble District, Among the Mountains.
Buzz—
With a rumble of shifting rocks, what looked like a sheer cliff face split open to either side. It wasn't really rock at all, but a huge gate disguised by magic.
Behind it was the secret treasury that the former City Lord of Liberl Port had painstakingly built—a vault for his finest private treasures.
At the entrance in the cliffs, two white-haired figures stood side by side. One had amber-colored horns, glossy dark skin, a jet-black arcane robe, and a massive black staff: none other than the legendary Archmage of Liberl Port herself, Madam Blackstaff—Vajra.
Next to her stood a gorgeous woman with wavy white hair, blue eyes, clad in a milky robe stitched with sky-blue magical runes and two rows of identical, perfectly gleaming pearls. Her temperament was radiant and noble: the Open Lord of Liberl Port, daughter of the Goddess of Magic, demigod spellcaster—Laeral Silverhand.
~~~
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