Zenkhald led the seven small elves deep into the forest, to a place where the mana flowed exceptionally thick and soft. It was a place where ordinary humans felt an irrational fear, but where magic felt as natural as breathing.
He stopped between two massive, ancient trees. "Here. We will build your sanctuary here."
The elves looked around with wide, curious eyes. One sniffled; another shivered, clinging tightly to Zenkhald's sleeve.
Zenkhald raised his hand and channeled a tiny amount of mana. Just a fraction.
The earth groaned and parted. A stone wall smoothly descended into the ground as the soil rose, flattened, and hardened into solid walls. Tree roots shifted aside to make room, and fallen leaves swirled in the air, glowing as they wove themselves into invisible runic symbols.
A minute later, a spacious cave with a small wooden cabin nestled in front of it stood in the middle of the forest. It was entirely protected by a complex illusion that hid it from prying eyes. If a human without mana looked in this direction, they would see nothing but thick bushes and trees. If a mage looked, they would just see a shimmering veil of "nothing." Only those marked by Zenkhald's power could pass through.
The elves gasped in awe.
"Are you... are you a high-ranking mage?" one whispered. "This is... amazing..." "A home! A real home!"
Zenkhald spoke quietly. "As long as you are under my protection, you are safe."
A little elf girl stepped forward and wrapped her small arms around his knee, hugging him tight. Zenkhald froze. In his past life, had anyone ever hugged him? No. The closest anyone ever came was trying to stab him.
The elves, despite their young age, possessed incredibly strong mana cores. They simply had no idea how to use them. Zenkhald started with the absolute basics: how to breathe properly so the mana wouldn't tear their bodies apart, how to hold a knife without severing their own toes, proper combat stances, and how to read magical currents rather than just "feeling" them.
The training was... intense. And highly chaotic.
For instance, the elves turned out to be far too talented for their own good. Zenkhald demonstrated a simple technique: "Take a small stone. Concentrate. A light flick of the wrist, and the stone flies straight." He threw a pebble—smoothly, sharply, like a seasoned warrior. It flew exactly ten meters and hit a tree. "Now, you try."
The seven-year-old elf boy picked up a stone. He concentrated. He threw it.
The stone shot forward like a cannonball, clearing two hundred meters and obliterating an owl's nest in the distance.
...Normal, Zenkhald told himself. Absolutely normal. > Up in the trees, the recruit toy owl let out a terrified, "Pweeeep!!"
Then there was the issue of magic. A little girl tried to form a basic mana sphere. Zenkhald immediately noticed she was pouring way too much power into it.
"Stop! Stop, don't compress it so hard! That's going to—"
The sphere exploded. But it wasn't a lethal blast. Instead, the forest was instantly engulfed in a massive cloud of pink glitter. Everyone was shining. Everyone was laughing. The entire clearing sparkled violently.
Standing to the side, General Rheim was completely utterly horrified. "Master... that spell... the output was equivalent to a Rank A mana explosion... But... glitter?!"
Covered in pink sparkles, the little girl cheered happily, "I did magiiiic!!"
Zenkhald eventually assigned the two toy wolves to teach the children hunting and stealth. The gray wolf demonstrated a perfect hunter's stance—low, quiet, graceful. The elves tried to copy it, and half of them simply flopped flat onto their bellies in the dirt.
The white wolf covered its face with its paws.
A six-year-old boy looked up seriously. "Teacher Wolf... am I doing it right?"
The wolf just stared at him. No. Just no.
After a week, Zenkhald realized he couldn't train them constantly. It would be far too suspicious if he disappeared from the estate all day, every day. But the elves needed constant supervision.
He gathered his subordinates—Rheim, the wolves, and the owl. "In two months, these children must know how to survive on their own. Fire, food, stances, magic, knife combat—everything. Understood?"
General Rheim saluted sharply. "Master! I swear it! We shall forge them into... legends!" The gray and white shadows howled in approval. The owl clicked its beak. The elves clapped happily.
...I just entrusted the upbringing of traumatized children to animated killer toys, Zenkhald thought. What could possibly go wrong?
A lot, as it turned out.
When the wolves tried to teach them to hunt rabbits, the children returned triumphantly... with a bucket of mushrooms.
"We found these!" they cheered. "Can we eat them?"
General Rheim paled. "Master... those are... Paralysis Mushrooms. Grade twelve hours."
Well, Zenkhald sighed internally. They aren't dead. I'll count that as a success.
Discipline wasn't any better. "Children! Fall in! Form ranks of three!" General Rheim barked. The elves immediately lined up... running in three completely different directions.
"Master... I... I surrender..." the General wept.
Zenkhald patted his plush, armored head. "No. You can do this." Rheim sighed as if he had just been tasked with conquering the world solo.
But the most important thing was that the elves stopped crying. They stopped being afraid. They stopped feeling lost. They now had a home, food, training, friends, a plush bear for a nanny, and a purpose given to them by Zenkhald.
When he visited a week later, they ran to him, their faces glowing.
"Teacher!" "We practiced!" "Look what I can do!" "We're surviving!"
And for the first time in his existence, Zenkhald didn't feel like the Demon King. He felt like a teacher. And maybe... an older brother.
The day the secret was blown started out completely peaceful. Zenkhald had finished his morning training, eaten breakfast, and was reading a book at the base when he felt a strange disturbance in the air.
General Rheim stiffened. "Master... something is approaching. Very fast."
The gray wolf lifted its snout, sniffing the air. "The scent... of the girl."
The white wolf clarified, "A strong scent. A very strong scent."
The owl did a frantic barrel roll in the air. "It is... the sister. MIRA. APPROACHING RAPIDLY."
The elves froze in terror. General Rheim went pale (as pale as a plush bear could go).
"MASTER!"
"What?"
"WE HAVE A SECRET ELF BASE!"
"I know."
"YOU ARE FOUR YEARS OLD AND SHE IS SIX!"
"And?"
"SHE IS GOING TO FIND US ALL!"
Zenkhald let out a heavy sigh. "Everyone... calm down. It's just my sister."
The entire base mentally screamed: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!
How did Mira find the base? It was quite simple. She woke up, realized her little brother was missing, and absolutely HATED it when he disappeared without her. She searched the house. She checked the garden. She scoured the yard. She interrogated the cat. (The cat merely meowed in ignorance).
Snorting in determination, Mira grabbed a stick, declared herself a "Level 2 Hero," and marched straight into the forest to find him.
Back at the base, sheer panic reigned.
"She's going to see us!" "What do we do?!" "We aren't ready for humans!" "What if she's evil?!"
"Mira is not an enemy," Zenkhald assured them. "She's just... very curious."
"Very. Very. Very. Ene—forgive me, Master, but she is more dangerous than half the demons in the Abyss!" General Rheim panicked. The wolves nodded in vigorous agreement. The owl began banging its head against the cave wall.
"Is that... the Shadow-Master's little sister?!" an elf whimpered. "Is she going to eat us...?" "Is it true she chopped a solid boulder in half?!"
"Alright! Everyone take cover!" Zenkhald commanded. "I will talk to her. No one comes out, no one speaks, no one—"
ACHOO!
The gray wolf sneezed. Loudly.
Outside the illusion, Mira stopped in her tracks. "...who sneezed?"
Zenkhald tried to seal the entrance, but Mira was already inches away from the illusion. He stepped out of the shimmering veil. "MIRA!"
"Little brother!!" She ran up to him. "What are you doing in the forest all alone? What is this weird place? What are you hiding? Why is there so much mana here? AND WHO SNEEZED?!"
"No one," Zenkhald lied smoothly. "It was... an echo."
"Echoes don't sound like 'achoo-pfff'!" Mira declared.
Inside the cave, the gray wolf sneezed again.
"AHA!!!" Mira yelled, lunging forward.
Zenkhald tried to grab her, but she barreled right through the illusion, shattering it instantly.
She stopped dead. Before her were seven elves, two wolves, an owl, a bear wearing knight's armor, a small cabin, and a training ground.
Silence fell over the forest. It stretched on for a very long time.
The elves stood frozen in formation. General Rheim was rigidly locked at attention. The wolves tried their hardest to look like cute, harmless puppies. The owl pretended to be a branch.
Mira finally opened her mouth. "Brother..."
"Mira..." Zenkhald started quietly. "This isn't what it looks like—"
"ARE YOU THE HEAD OF A SECRET MILITARY BASE?!" she shrieked. "YOU?! AT FOUR YEARS OLD?!"
"NO!! This... isn't a base! This is—"
"It is a base!" General Rheim announced proudly.
"SHUT UP," Zenkhald hissed.
Chaos erupted. The elves scattered in sheer panic. "She saw us!" "Hide!" "Quick, into the bushes!" "AAAAAAH!!" One climbed a tree. Another tried to hide behind a rock the size of an apple. A third simply lay face down in the dirt and covered his head with a single leaf.
"THEY'RE ALIVE!" Mira screamed, pointing at the animals. "THEY ARE ALL ALIVE! AND YOU'RE TEACHING THEM?!"
"Mira, sweetheart... please... breathe in... breathe out..."
"You're running a secret organization of elf children! You're teaching them how to fight! You have a WOLF ARMY! And a BEAR KNIGHT!!!"
"A pleasure to meet you!" General Rheim saluted.
"SILENCE!" Zenkhald roared.
Mira narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to her brother. "Brother... explain everything. Right now. And do not lie to me! I KNOW when you're lying!"
I lived for eight hundred years and never feared the greatest heroes of humanity, Zenkhald thought bleakly. But I am terrified of my six-year-old sister...
He took a deep breath. "They are... just... my friends."
"FRIENDS?!" Mira yelled. "How do you know ELVES?! IN THE WOODS?! WITH A TEAM OF LIVING TOYS?!"
"It's a... a camp? For playing games?" Zenkhald tried desperately.
From the bushes, the elves stood up solemnly. "We are elven warriors!" "We are training for revenge!" "Teacher Zen is our commander!"
Zenkhald closed his eyes. I am going to kill you all...
Mira gasped so sharply it felt like she sucked all the air out of the cave. She walked slowly toward Zenkhald, took his small hands in hers, and leaned down.
"Brother..." she whispered. "I am so proud of you."
Zenkhald blinked. "What?!"
"Did you... save them?" "Yes." "Did you give them a home?" "Yes." "Are you hiding them from bad people?" "Yes." "Are you... a hero?"
Zenkhald faltered. The bandits, the mask, the night raids, the secret base, the trafficked elves... He wanted to say 'no', but for the first time in his existence, it actually felt... nice.
"I suppose... yes," he said quietly.
Mira beamed so brightly it was practically blinding. "YOU ARE THE BEST BROTHER IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. The sister who had always sworn to protect him had finally realized that he was someone who protected others.
Then, she turned her sights on the elves.
"Alright! Fall in, everyone! I am a future hero! And from now on, I am going to train you too!"
The elves looked at her in sheer, unadulterated horror. "AAAAAH NO NO NO!!" "SHE IS STRONGER THAN THE TEACHER!!" "SAVE USSS!!"
"Master..." General Rheim whispered weakly. "We... are all going to die."
Zenkhald nodded slowly. "...Yes. Most likely, yes."
Once Mira uncovered the elf base, there was no going back. "I will help train them!" she declared the very next day. "You are the Teacher. I am the Super-Teacher!"
This is the end, Zenkhald realized immediately. But the only thing that could stop Mira's determination was a god, and even then, Zenkhald wouldn't bet on the god.
The morning started in chaos. The elves lined up. General Rheim stood at attention. The wolves took guard positions. The owl sat on a branch with a magical notepad, taking attendance.
"Let us begin with basic techniques—" Zenkhald started.
"NO!" Mira stepped forward so aggressively the wolves nearly fell over. "We start with something much more important! MIRA'S SUPER METHOD!!"
The elves gulped in unison.
"Mira... maybe... we shouldn't?" Zenkhald tried.
Mira smiled—a smile so terrifying it would make a pixie cry. "We must."
She pulled out a book on combat stances, flipped to a random page, and slammed her finger down. "RIGHT! The book says: 'Water Flow Stance'."
The elves awkwardly tried to mimic the drawing.
"Wrong! Like this!" Because Mira was absurdly talented, she executed the complex stance flawlessly.
The elves tried again. The results were disastrous. There were 'Crane' poses, 'I'm falling' poses, 'Help me' poses, and 'I can't feel my legs' poses.
"Teacher Zen," one boy whispered, trembling. "She... she is going to kill us... with stances..."
"Just endure it," Zenkhald sighed.
"AND NOW, STRIKE!" Mira commanded. She unleashed a blindingly fast strike against a wooden target. The thick tree trunk CRACKED.
"A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!" the elves screamed. "We can't do that!!"
"That means you aren't trying hard enough!" Mira scolded.
Next came speed training. "If you can tag me—you're the best!" Mira announced.
"Mira, don't. They can't—" Zenkhald warned, but she was already off.
The elves tried to chase her. The problem was that Mira was fast. Illogically, terrifyingly fast. She casually dodged trees, leaped over roots, and bounded across boulders, laughing like a little witch while the elves wheezed behind her.
"Wait!!!" "Stop!!!" "We're falling!!!" "I LOST MY SHOE!!!" one boy sobbed mid-sprint. The white wolf trotted behind them, picking up the fallen children by their collars.
"Master... she runs them like Level Three military conscripts!" General Rheim noted in horror.
"And... are they alive?"
"So far... yes."
Finally, the magic training. "Alright, combat stances are good. Speed is great. Now—MAGIC!" Mira declared, putting a twig on her head like a crown. "I want to see your BEST MAGICAL SPHERICAL EXPLOSION!!"
"NO!!!" the elves screamed in unison.
"Mira. Mira, no. Mira, STOP," Zenkhald ordered urgently. "They are too little, they—"
"Ahaaaa! Elves, FORWARD!!"
Seven panicked elves unleashed their magic at once.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
The entire forest was instantly swallowed in a thick pink fog. The notepad-owl was blown into the bushes. General Rheim was blasted into the upper branches of an oak tree. Zenkhald stood dead center, holding up a dense mana shield just so he wouldn't be incinerated by glitter.
When the smoke cleared, elves were scattered everywhere. One hung upside down from a branch. Another was stuck headfirst in a bush. A little girl sat dazed at the bottom of a smoking crater.
Standing proudly in the middle of the carnage, Mira nodded. "Good!! But it could be better!"
"Master... it was a total massacre..." the General whimpered from his tree.
"Yes..." Zenkhald muttered. "But look."
Despite being battered and bruised, the elves' mana cores were stabilizing. Their techniques were becoming sharper. Their stances were cleaner. It was chaotic. It was terrifying. But... it was highly effective.
She... is making them stronger faster than I ever could, Zenkhald realized with a frown.
"Master," the white wolf concluded solemnly. "Mira is... a walking combat inferno."
"The perfect trainer," the gray shadow agreed.
"Oooooh... I can't take this anymore..." the owl groaned, tumbling out of its bush.
At the end of the day, Mira clapped her hands. "That's it! We're done for today!"
The elves staggered to their feet, swaying, exhausted, and covered in mud and glitter.
The seven-year-old boy looked at Zenkhald with dead eyes. "Teacher Zen..." "Yes?" "May I... die today?" "No. We have dinner soon."
The five-year-old girl sniffled. "Teacher... my leg is saying 'I do not want to live'..."
"I completely understand," the gray wolf muttered.
Mira beamed at them. "You all did so great!!! Tomorrow, we will make the training TWICE as hard!!"
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" the elves wailed into the sunset.
Zenkhald watched the scene unfold and, for the very first time, came to a terrifying realization: I may be strong. But Mira... is an S-Rank natural disaster.
Three years passed. Mira was now nine, the elves were around eight, and Zenkhald was seven.
With each passing year, something in Mira changed. She became... oddly calm. She was still bright, funny, and energetic, but her eyes grew sharper. Her movements became flawlessly precise. Her speech was softer, more composed. And her sword strikes were heavy enough that an adult knight would think twice before approaching her.
It was the result of daily training with her father, with Zenkhald, with the elves, and with a toy army that genuinely believed it was world-class elite infantry. She fought every single day as if the apocalypse was scheduled for tomorrow.
The elves now looked at her with pure, terrified reverence. "Mira-sama..." "Teacher Mira..." "Great Mira, please don't hit so hard!"
During one of their joint training sessions in the invisibly warded clearing, the elves and Mira stood in perfect formation. Zenkhald walked among them, making minor corrections. "Check your stance. Elbows lower. Don't forget to breathe."
Then Mira stepped up. "And now! Flip—Find—STRIKE!!"
"NOOOOOO!!" the elves screamed.
Mira spun into a blur, executing twenty-one strikes in three seconds flat. The shockwave blew the elves into the bushes. A hollowed-out log crashed down from a tree. General Rheim's owl panicked and fell off its branch.
Surveying the destruction, General Rheim sighed. "Master... I believe... if this continues... Mira is going to destroy the Capital when she reaches the Academy."
Zenkhald rubbed his temples. "She is... very hardworking." (WHO EVEN TRAINS LIKE THIS?! I DIDN'T HIT THIS HARD WHEN I SIEGED THE CITADEL OF ANGELS!)
But the time had finally come. The date was approaching for Mira to be sent to the Capital, to the Academy. It was a point of pride for the family, an honor for the Helvard bloodline... and a massive, gaping hole in the hearts of everyone who was used to seeing her every day.
The elves found out first. They reacted as if the sky had fallen.
"She's leaving?!" "Teacher Mira is leaving?!" "Who is going to kick us?!" "Who will make us do 'Flip-Find-Strike'?!" "Who will teach us how to survive?!"
Zenkhald sat on a rock, looking up at the sky. It was a strange new experience for him. For demons, time was stagnant. For humans, it flew by in the blink of an eye.
During Mira's final training session with the elves, they stood in perfect lines. No laughing. No whining. Just serious, determined faces.
Mira walked down the line. "You have all grown strong. Very strong. Once, you were small and crying... but now, you can protect yourselves."
One elf sniffled loudly. "But... without you... we can't..."
Mira smiled—a soft, gentle smile that was rare for her. "You can. Because Zen taught you well."
"Ahem... I... merely demonstrated," Zenkhald deflected.
"Guru Zenkhald!" "Great Teacher!" the elves praised.
Zenkhald paled. NO! DO NOT CALL ME THAT!
"And I..." Mira continued, "will figure out a way to visit you. I never abandon my friends." The elves broke ranks and swarmed her, hugging her like a little pack of wolves.
That evening at home, Mira was unusually quiet. She ate slowly. She didn't chatter. Their mother noticed immediately.
"Mira... is everything alright?"
"Mhm," Mira nodded. But her eyes were deeply sad.
Zenkhald watched her. She is human, he thought. She is human, which means she has to leave. All children must walk their own path. I have no right to hold her back. > But... something ached inside his chest. This sister was the only human who had seen his true power and wasn't afraid. She was the only one who fought him with a smile. The only one who believed in him, without question.
Later that night, they sat together on the roof of the estate, looking up at the stars.
"I don't want to leave," Mira whispered.
"It is your path," Zenkhald replied softly.
"I know... but I want to stay here with you. With the elves. With Mom and Dad..." She lowered her head. "But... if I want to become strong... I have to keep moving forward."
Zenkhald nodded. "Yes. Everyone must move forward."
Mira looked at him, her dark eyes reflecting the starlight. "What about you? You're going to get stronger too, aren't you?"
Zenkhald offered a faint smile. "Perhaps."
Mira let out a dramatic, childish sigh. "Just... don't grow up faster than me! Got it?"
"I'll try," Zenkhald promised. (I already outgrew you by several centuries in my past life, but alright).
The next morning, at dawn, the carriage stood ready. Hidden in the treeline, the elves watched silently from the shadows.
Mira stood by the carriage in her traveling clothes. Their mother was crying. Their father held it together, but his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Zenkhald walked up to her. "I'll see you soon."
Mira smiled. "You look after the elves. And look after yourself." She leaned down and poked him in the chest. "And don't explode."
"You're the one who explodes," Zenkhald shot back.
"I'm a prodigy," she smirked, tossing her hair.
She climbed into the carriage.
From the forest, faint whispers carried on the wind. "Teacher..." "We will wait for you..."
The carriage lurched forward. Mira leaned out the window and waved—her signature wide, energetic wave—until she disappeared down the road.