That night, Pinky sat the slime sisters down.
He couldn't speak, so he showed them. He pulled items from his pack, one by one. Three sets of folded black armor, light but sturdy. Three swords, taken from the bandits. A bow. An axe. Arrows.
The sisters stared.
"What... what is this?" Lizy asked.
Pinky pointed at the weapons. Then at them. Then he made a fighting motion.
"You want to... train us?" Wixi's voice cracked. "Really?"
Pinky nodded.
"Why?" Mimi whispered. She was still shaking from earlier. "Why would you do that for us?"
Pinky paused. He pointed at himself. Then he made a gesture like someone leaving, walking away. Then he pointed at them, then at the weapons, then at an invisible enemy.
I won't be here forever. But you can protect yourselves.
Lizy translated, understanding dawning on her face. "He's saying... he has to leave eventually. He has a mission. But he wants to make sure we can fight before he goes."
Silence.
Then Wixi stepped forward and picked up a sword.
"Teach us," she said.
***
Pinky tried to train Lyriel too.
It was a disaster.
She tripped over her own feet during basic stance practice. She dropped the training sword three times in the first minute. When he tried to show her a simple block, she somehow managed to hit herself in the face.
"I'm sorry, husband!" she wailed, clutching her bruised nose. "I'm trying! I really am!"
Pinky stared at her.
She had been an adventurer for over twenty years. F-rank the entire time. How was that possible? How could someone be this bad at everything?
He watched her attempt a basic swing. It was terrible. No form. No power. No coordination.
Then he watched her heal a cut on Mimi's hand from training.
The wound closed in seconds. No scar. No pain. Perfect healing, executed with casual ease.
Pinky understood.
Some people were made for one thing. Lyriel could heal better than anyone he had ever seen. But fighting? Moving? Thinking strategically? Those weren't her gifts. They never would be.
He stopped trying to train her in combat. Instead, he positioned her at the edge of training sessions, ready to heal any injuries. It was what she was good at. It was enough.