We left the path. The girl just took my hand and pulled me away without even asking.
I was still on edge. My ears were ringing, my hands shaking. It felt like I was still there on that field, with Somar yelling and wooden swords cutting through the air. I lowered my gaze to the fingers clenched around the handle and forced them to relax. My joints cracked.
I really wouldn't want someone to show up later with complaints that I injured their kids and now we had to pay compensation. Though most likely, that's not a thing here.
We reached a large tree by the river. The water was murky. From time to time there were splashes, and frogs croaked.
"Do you always fight like that?" she asked.
"Like what?"
"Like you don't want to stop."
"I didn't want to fight anyone at all…"
"But you did. And you hit them with a wooden sword. They'll probably die now from the terrible agony of shame."
"What? I hope not."
She was strange. Something about her made me tense. An elusive feeling, like I was looking at something not entirely human.
"My name is Sylphietta. But you can call me Sylphie, Rudeus."
"Alright."
She sat down by the tree, looking at the river. Probably the first time I talked to someone around the same age as this body.
"Do the locals not like elves?"
"They don't like anything they don't understand. They pretend they're not afraid, but they are." She paused. Thought for a moment. "I'm an elf. And I also have green hair…"
"Yeah, I noticed… Is that rare?"
"I won't say I'm the only one, but if the village sees another person with the same, I'll be surprised." She nodded. "You know, green hair is a sign of disaster."
"Disaster?"
She nodded.
"Green hair is a rare mutation. Laplace had it, and so did the cursed berserkers, the Supards. That's why people don't like it."
Cursed berserkers. I'd heard of them from Zenith. When she read me stories — I couldn't do it myself then — I remembered how her words sounded: "The most vicious, the most cruel." Or something like that. Now they use them as a bogeyman for children. If you don't behave, a Supard will come and take you away.
The girl was clearly upset. I should probably say something.
"I like your hair color… it's so bright…"
"No need to force meaningless compliments."
Alright, worth a try.
"They'll be afraid of you too."
"Huh? Why?"
"You're strange. And a mage. That's unusual."
"How do you know?"
"Paul told me."
Paul? Why would he— Ah, he probably came to talk to Laws and she overheard.
"You moved so well in that duel! Did Paul teach you?"
She stood up and began repeating my movements. She positioned her hands like she was holding an imaginary sword, shifted her feet, circling me. Everything perfect: footwork, wrist work, strikes.
"Have you fought before?"
"No."
"Then Laws taught you?"
"No. I told you — never. You're stupid."
I watched her move. And something about it felt wrong. Not because she was copying me, but because she was doing it perfectly — even better than I had. As if her body knew what to do, and her mind didn't even have to think about it.
"Then where did you get those skills?"
She froze. The tension left her as if nothing had happened.
"It just happens. On its own."
"On its own?"
"It's always like that for me."
I really never knew how to talk to children. They exhausted me faster than any physical work. Always saying some nonsense, waiting for a reaction to their silly thoughts, demanding attention. She could just as easily launch into a long speech about how many frogs she caught, what spots they had, and how incredibly important all of that was.
"When I tried to play with other kids, I took one boy's toy."
Here we go. Now she'll start: how many toys she had, which were her favorites, which one broke, which one was lost, and how indescribably important all that is. Like I care.
I needed to say goodbye quickly and leave. I'd fulfilled my personal duty and could go home with a clear conscience.
"A wooden deer. He tried to take it back. I broke his arm."
"I se— What?!" I stared at her. "Why?"
I almost answered automatically, but then realized what she'd just said. Broke it. Not hit him, not pushed him — broke it. Maybe she misspoke?
"It was an accident. My body moves by itself." She shrugged. "That time too. People don't like it when you break their arms."
She didn't misspeak.
"...no one likes that."
"That's why I don't respond when they pick on me," she added. "If I do, it'll be worse."
Pressing a finger to her lips, she continued:
"Everyone always looks at me like I shouldn't… like I'm doing something wrong. Even though I do the same as they do."
"You do understand that breaking someone's arm is 'wrong', right?"
She nodded.
"That's why I don't take toys anymore. And I don't break arms!"
Silence.
"I just watch. It's calmer that way."
I looked at her, and some strange feeling stirred inside. Like I wasn't looking at a child, but at something wild. She didn't understand people, but people didn't understand her either.
I thought she was joking about her body moving on its own, but now I wasn't so sure. She spoke calmly — without pride, fear, or regret. Just the facts. Breaking someone's arm is bad. So better not touch other people's toys.
I looked at the sky. The sun was already rising higher. My stomach growled. It was time to go back.
"I should go," I said, standing up.
She nodded without asking why or offering to come along. She just nodded and looked at the river again.
I took a few steps and glanced back.
"Sylphietta."
She lifted her eyes.
"If someone bothers you again, tell me."
"So you'll beat them up?"
"So you don't break something."
She smiled — barely, just the corner of her mouth.
I turned and walked back.
***
Walking down the road toward home, I tried to stay away from the place where the fight had happened not long ago. Or, more accurately, the duel?
In my hand was the same wooden sword I used to smack the trio. Marks and deep dents showed on its surface — traces of the hits. More precisely, traces of how lucky I actually was.
No matter how impressive this body was, no matter how good its genes were, overcoming the difference in age, height, and weight was hard. If that degenerate Somar had decided to attack me together with his buddies all at once, I probably wouldn't have come out the winner.
I still had no idea what made him suddenly challenge me to an honest duel. But he really did move well. Even the kids here were stronger than in my world.
Come to think of it, my new body was abnormal. Five‑year‑olds probably don't move this lightly. And I was already better than I had been in my past life. At the very least, I could run a hundred meters without risking dying from a heart attack.
And my vision. No more glasses. If I focused, I could clearly see how fast a fly was flying. Probably because of mana. Zenith said everyone had some. If so, no wonder people here were stronger.
My body still buzzed from the fight. The realization that the training hadn't been for nothing. The joy of victory. The leftover adrenaline. Now I understood why people got hooked on this so easily.
Paul was already waiting for me on the doorstep. Zenith stood a bit farther away, busy with her work.
"Hi."
"Rudy, finally out of the house? How's your arm? Doesn't hurt anymore?"
Still as cheerful and relaxed. How did he even live like that?
"It's fine. Almost doesn't hurt."
I lowered my gaze to my arm. It had healed, but there was still that unpleasant morning ache. And the scars left by that spell. I could get rid of them, but I'd have to use magic for a long while.
"Would've been better if you'd told me when the teacher is actually coming."
It had already been many weeks since Paul arranged a magic teacher for me. I'd been waiting every day. But the more time passed, the more it felt like I was being strung along. They wouldn't lie to me… right?
"You ask that every day," Paul chuckled. "You don't just find a teacher that easily, especially one willing to travel to a village. And the road isn't short. Don't worry — someone will show up."
Always so confident. Always knows what he's doing. I wish I were like that.
His gaze suddenly stopped somewhere around my neck. He stepped closer right away.
"What's this?"
"H-hey!"
With one hand he pulled my shirt aside and pressed a finger into the area near my collarbone. A wave of pain shot through my body. What was he doing?
Only now did I notice the huge swollen bruise. Probably from the duel — something I hadn't even paid attention to.
"And what's this sword? This isn't yours."
His expression grew more serious.
"Did you fight someone?"
"What?!"
Zenith's voice cut like a blade. She came toward us immediately.
"Well…"
I wasn't sure what to say. Tell the truth — that I beat up three kids? Even if they weren't exactly normal, it wasn't much of an achievement.
Though why did I even need to justify myself? I saved a girl from three idiots who were throwing rocks at her and bullying her.
"I…"
"Rudy, you just recovered today and you already got into a fight with someone!"
Zenith, already next to us, focused her sharp gaze on the bruise. A second later, she relaxed. Apparently, it wasn't serious.
"Where and with whom?"
"Well… it was…"
"Did you win?"
Paul cut in, open interest in his voice.
"Paul!"
"Ah! Right… what were you saying?"
Retelling the events didn't take long.
Zenith listened carefully, shaking her head from time to time. Paul, on the contrary, kept smiling wider.
"Well, well! Not a bad result!" He patted my shoulder so hard I nearly jumped. "Good job!"
"Paul! He just recovered from an injury and you're happy he got into a fight?!"
"Well, if he won, then he did well. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
Zenith narrowed her eyes but said nothing. And I just stood there thinking…
I really did win. I actually managed it.
In my past life, I always avoided fights. When I had to fight, I endured. When I could hit back, I looked away. I was afraid they'd hit me harder, that they'd break me, that I'd fall and never get back up.
But now it was different.
I hit them. I didn't chicken out, didn't run away. I stood against three, and they fell.
And I liked the feeling.