The training hall was quiet except for the sharp sound of steel slicing through air.
Shing.
Shing.
Shing.
A lone boy moved across the stone floor, his sword cutting clean arcs through the empty space around him. The blade flashed under the lantern light, each swing fast and deliberate.
This room had been built specifically for him.
Unlike the other training chambers in the Magic City of Äußerst, this one lacked the usual magical apparatus. No enchanted targets, no mana amplifiers, no spell formations carved into the ground. It was simple.
A wide stone hall.
Weapon racks along the walls.
Training dummies scarred with countless cuts.
It was the only place in the city where magic wasn't necessary.
Because its sole user couldn't use it.
"Stupid elf…"
Shing.
Shamrock's sword carved diagonally through the air.
"'You'll die.'"
Shing.
"'You're weak.'"
His next swing was harder.
"'You can't go to the Northern Lands.'"
The blade struck a wooden dummy with a loud crack.
"Yeah, well—"
He slashed again.
"—maybe if you actually let me take the stupid First-Class Mage exam—"
The training dummy lost its arm.
Shamrock stepped back, breathing lightly. Despite his anger, his movements remained controlled. His stance was steady, his grip on the sword precise.
Anyone watching closely would realize something important.
For a thirteen-year-old…
He was frighteningly skilled.
Still, his frustration hadn't faded.
"Acting like she knows everything…"
He swung the sword once more before lowering it.
"Stupid old elf."
A voice spoke from behind him.
"Are you finished venting?"
Shamrock froze.
He slowly turned his head.
Leaning casually against one of the pillars at the edge of the training hall was Sense.
Her long braided hair rested over her shoulder, and her calm eyes watched him with quiet amusement.
Shamrock groaned.
"How long have you been there?"
"Since you started complaining."
"…That long?"
"Yes."
Shamrock sheathed his sword with an annoyed sigh.
"Well, if you're here to tell me to apologize, don't bother."
Sense tilted her head.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
He crossed his arms.
"I'm not apologizing. She started it."
Sense raised an eyebrow.
"Serie-sama started it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"She called me weak."
Sense considered that for a moment.
"That sounds accurate."
Shamrock's eye twitched.
"You're supposed to be on my side!"
Sense smiled faintly.
"I am."
"Then act like it!"
Shamrock turned away with a huff.
"You people are all the same."
Sense blinked slowly.
"You people?"
Shamrock waved his hand dismissively.
"Yeah. Mages. Always acting like warriors are useless."
For a moment, the training hall went very quiet.
Then something moved.
Before Shamrock could react—
WHIP.
A long strand of braided hair shot forward like a living whip.
"—Huh?!"
In an instant, Sense's hair wrapped tightly around Shamrock's body.
"W-WAIT—"
The braid lifted him off the ground effortlessly.
Shamrock dangled helplessly in the air.
Sense stepped closer.
Her expression had changed completely.
Her eyes were sharp.
And slightly irritated.
"Shamrock."
Her voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
"Who exactly do you think you're speaking to like that?"
Shamrock's face went pale.
"…M-Miss Sense."
"Correct."
She tightened the braid slightly.
The pressure made him flail a little.
"I'm sorry!"
Sense leaned closer.
"Say that again."
"I'M SORRY!"
His voice cracked.
Sense stared at him for a few seconds longer.
Then her expression softened.
"Good."
The braid loosened and gently lowered him back to the ground.
While Serie had been the one to bring him to the Magic City, she had never been the one teaching him how to eat properly, how to behave around the mages, or how to survive the daily chaos of life in the Association.
That had been Sense.
She was the one who dragged him out of bed.
The one who scolded him when he got into trouble.
The one who taught him basic combat discipline.
And occasionally the one who wrapped him up in her hair and carried him around like luggage when he misbehaved.
Which happened more than once.
Shamrock stumbled slightly before regaining his balance.
He rubbed his arms nervously.
"…You didn't have to do that."
Sense smiled sweetly.
"Yes I did."
Shamrock looked away.
"…Scary woman."
Sense pretended not to hear that.
After a moment, she walked past him and sat casually on one of the wooden benches near the wall.
"You're still angry."
Shamrock crossed his arms again.
"Obviously."
Sense rested her chin on her hand.
"You know why Serie-sama won't let you leave."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because she thinks I'm weak."
Sense shook her head.
"That's not the reason."
Shamrock frowned.
"Then what is it?"
Sense looked at him quietly for a moment.
"Because she doesn't want you to die."
Shamrock blinked.
"…What?"
"She cares about you."
He immediately scoffed.
"Yeah, right."
Sense raised an eyebrow.
"You don't believe that?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Shamrock shrugged.
"She never says anything nice about me."
Sense chuckled softly.
"Of course she doesn't."
"That's not funny."
Sense leaned back slightly.
"Shamrock… you've lived in the Magic City since you were six years old."
He nodded slowly.
"You've trained under some of the strongest mages in the world."
"Yeah."
"You've been given your own training hall."
"…Yeah."
Sense smiled faintly.
"Do you think Serie-sama does that for everyone?"
Shamrock didn't answer.
Sense continued.
"She could have sent you away years ago."
Her voice was calm.
"But she didn't."
Shamrock looked down at the floor.
"…That doesn't mean she likes me."
Sense stood up.
"You're very dense sometimes."
"Huh?"
She walked toward him and lightly tapped his forehead.
"Think about it."
Shamrock rubbed his head.
"…Still doesn't feel like she cares."
Sense sighed softly.
"Elves are difficult."
"That's an understatement."
"For someone like Serie-sama," Sense continued, "protecting someone means pushing them away from danger."
Shamrock was quiet.
"She believes the Northern Lands will kill you."
"…Maybe."
"And she doesn't want that."
Shamrock scratched the back of his head.
"…You really think that?"
Sense smiled.
"I know that."
The training hall fell silent for a moment.
Shamrock sighed.
"…Fine."
Sense raised an eyebrow.
"Fine?"
"I'll go talk to her again."
"Good."
"But if she calls me weak again, I'm leaving."
Sense chuckled.
"Try not to start another argument."
"No promises."
Sense shook her head.
"Just… speak calmly this time."
Shamrock began walking toward the exit.
"Alright."
As he reached the door, Sense spoke again.
"Shamrock."
He paused.
"Hmm?"
"Don't make her worry too much."
Shamrock looked back at her.
"…I'll try."
Then he left.
---
The halls of the Continental Magic Association were quiet.
Shamrock walked through the long corridors toward the upper levels of the tower.
Most of the mages avoided him.
Not out of fear.
But confusion.
He was the only person in the entire Magic City who lived among mages… without being one.
Eventually he reached the large doors leading to Serie's throne room.
Shamrock stopped.
He exhaled slowly.
"Alright…"
He muttered quietly.
"Calm conversation."
He reached for the door.
Then he heard voices inside.
"…confirmed sightings near the domain of Graf Granat."
Shamrock froze.
That voice belonged to Lernen.
Inside the room, Serie spoke.
"Which demon?"
"Aura."
The name made Shamrock's eyes widen.
"The Guillotine."
Shamrock's heart started beating faster.
Lernen continued.
"Scouts confirmed her presence near the fortress city."
Serie was silent for a moment.
Then she spoke calmly.
"So the Demon King's remnants are still moving."
"Yes."
Shamrock slowly lowered his hand from the door.
A smile spread across his face.
"Aura the Guillotine…"
One of the Seven Demon Generals.
A powerful demon who once served directly under the Demon King.
Shamrock turned around.
"…Perfect."
He began walking down the hallway.
As he walked, he spoke softly to himself.
"Sorry, Sense."
His grin widened.
"I'll talk to Serie next time."
His footsteps echoed through the corridor.
"Right now…"
His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
"…I have somewhere to be."
The boy looked toward the distant northern horizon.
"The domain of Graf Granat."
---
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