I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

A child who places his home next to a morgue spends his days in constant companionship with death, the furthest distance he has ever been from life.

“In his final days, my father gave me some water lily seeds.”

He said he would put his last soul into these seeds, and as long as the water was changed every half day, he would wait for them to sprout and for the water lilies to bloom. He would meet me again at that moment.

“I didn’t plant them because I knew that if I planted those seeds in Mansfield, I would never see my father again.”

The pointer above began to move slowly, yet steadily, taking one step forward.

"I do not want."

For the first time, Duma straightened her spine, raised her eyes, and looked at the friend who had been helping her all along: "I don't want to wait here to die."

……

An unexpected silence fell over the room. Gerald, who was sitting in a chair, did not speak, but stared at Duma in front of him with a curious expression that seemed to ask, "Is there anything else?"

This reaction made the girl seem a little discouraged: "What do you think...?"

"What do you mean, how?" Gerald blinked, then suddenly laughed wickedly. "Just kidding, don't ask me that kind of question. I never comment on someone's dreams."

"On the battlefield, I heard everyone, everyone in my team, speak loudly about their dreams."

He stared at the ceiling above him, slowly drifting into his memories. "Becoming a billionaire, a playboy with women on both sides—I told him right away that those were all unrealistic dreams. If you're going to dream, dream big, like conquering the world or something… And then, everyone except me died at the hands of Ursus's internal guards."

"So I won't judge a person's dream." His gaze gradually cleared, and he smiled gently at his friend in front of him: "I will only help that person achieve her dream."

"Relax, Duma, we'll figure something out once we get to Colombia."

He stood up, extended his fist towards Duma, and gestured for a fist bump.

The girl carefully stood up, and tried to clench her fist and gently touch it with the fist in front of her that was much larger than hers.

Upon seeing this, Gerald couldn't help but laugh, and as he opened and closed his mouth, Duma sighed helplessly.

She knew the other person was about to start nagging again.

"By the way, how about trying to brew some wine? Let me tell you, wine has many benefits. I don't recommend you drink it, but you can definitely develop a complete industry chain from it. Trust me, if I cooperate with you, we can completely destroy Colombia's bland, watery wine market..."

And so, on the clock, the hands belonging to the girl began to turn again.

Chapter Nine: On Whether Talking About Children is the Best Way to Close the Gap

As promised, Seraya brought a large bundle of books into Mansfield Jail five days later.

She wrapped the books in enamel and disguised them as large items, mixing them into the renovation workers' luggage, and easily moved the books to her room.

The reason for not keeping it in the library is twofold: firstly, to avoid prison guards who go there to read comics, and secondly, so that it can be easily taken with it when leaving.

Slowly pushing open the library door, it was lunchtime. The silver-haired Pegasus was still sitting in his most familiar spot. The book in his hands was almost worn out from being read so many times; from the pages to the cover, it was all crumpled.

"Oh, isn't this our Lady Seria?"

Upon hearing the heavy sound of heels landing on the ground, Gerald knew that the study assignment that would accompany him for the next four months had returned.

Although he still had the leisure to flip through the book in his hands, the heaviness in his heart still made him sigh, "So, besides the book, did you bring any gifts for the students who are studying hard?"

Seria placed her book on the library table and tossed a bag of candy to Gerald: "Here you go."

"Huh? You actually brought it? What's this?" Gerald, who was engrossed in his book, reached out and caught the item tossed into his hand, tossing it around a couple of times. "Pete's fruit assorted candies?"

“I saw it when I checked your file earlier. I was going to ask the kitchen if they could make you a cake, but it seems Mansfield doesn’t have that capability.” Seria took off her police cap and tidied her suffocating hair. “Happy birthday, Gerald.”

Upon hearing this, Gerald stopped what he was doing and suddenly turned to stare at the diamond lady who had given him the gift.

"What's wrong?" Saria, who noticed the strange behavior, was a little confused, but she quickly fell silent—after all, she had only chosen Ifrit's favorite flavor.

Remembering what Muirsey had said before, she realized that she didn't seem to be good at choosing gifts, even the simplest candy.

She pondered for a few seconds, then shook her head: "I see. I don't think I asked you what your taste was. I was a bit presumptuous."

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant, would you believe me if I said I actually turned twenty-five twice?"

As if suddenly relieved, he gently tore open a piece of the candy in his hand and threw a hard candy into his mouth: "But this is the first time for my twenty-sixth birthday."

The strawberry flavor inside is as cloyingly sweet as ever.

I don't know if living longer than in my previous life can be considered an achievement.

“Here.” Gerald shook the bag, pointing the tear he had just made at Saria. “Have some, have some. Their candies are really good, with a rich flavor and cheap price. I especially liked this brand before I went to jail. It’s better than all of John’s products.”

“…I don’t eat candy.” Saria turned her head away and straightened her police hat again.

"Come on, even though I don't know if today is my birthday, have you ever seen anyone finish their birthday cake by themselves?" Gerald said, glancing at the candy in his hand. "Uh, I guess the candy is about the same?"

"On most of my so-called 'birthdays' in my life, all I receive are the things I've won: scholarships, competition sponsorships, investments, and sponsorships."

Saria leaned against the wall, seemingly reminiscing about the past, yet her gaze never wavered, as if she were talking about something unrelated to herself: "So I prefer to call this a prize you won honorably, Gerald. If every employee Rhine Lab hired were like you, I think things would be very different now."

However, after hearing what she said, the person's attention wasn't on the second half of her sentence. Instead, her eyes lit up, and she mysteriously shook her finger.

"Ah, I get it."

“The kid’s favorite flavor, Pete Fruit.” Gerald patted the candy wrapper, then pointed at Saria, practically ready to slam his fist on the table and shout, “I object!!” “An old fogey who doesn’t even know what a birthday is, her thinking is stuck hundreds of years in the past.”

Before Saria could retort, he immediately said, "Let me think, it can't be that some parent has given gifts to their own child before, so they treat candy as a generic gift and think that giving this is always the right thing to do."

"And I just happened to forget my own child's birthday, so a parent who didn't usually celebrate birthdays is now particularly sensitive to anniversaries and such, so maybe that's why they sent me a birthday present?"

"..."

Saria clenched her fists, took several deep breaths to suppress her frustrated gaze: "...Ifrit is not my child. You will meet her later if you have the chance."

"Yeah."

Gerald didn't say anything more about it, but he keenly noticed the complex emotions in Seria's tone when she talked about the child named "Ifrit".

Given the various sordid things that happened on this land and his exposure to science fiction from his previous life, he could already imagine just how complicated this backstory was.

"Stop giving me candy all the time. Even a prisoner like me who's been locked up for a year can come up with a lot of great gifts."

He put down the book he was holding and began to seriously analyze the situation for Seria: "Does your child like fighting and killing? What is his temperament like? Does he like to be with other people? Can he make friends?"

Seria had just suggested that Gerald should read a book and not pry into her life, but before she could even finish her sentence, Gerald cut her off again. It seemed that the other person had firmly grasped the initiative in the conversation from beginning to end, leaving her no room to interject.

Unfortunately, she also happens to care about this issue.

"She's a good kid. Although she can be a bit impulsive, she's kind-hearted and doesn't want to hurt others. And... she's probably made a few friends."

Realizing she was completely unaware of Ifrit's current situation, Saria opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

"It's okay if you can't say it, it's not entirely your fault. You have your own things to do, just remember to spend more time with her next time."

Gerald, unusually serious, then scribbled on the paper: "Impulsive, good boy, unwilling to hurt others—that's too general. But since it's the image you're describing, it must have come from careful consideration."

"In other words, she has most likely unintentionally hurt someone in the past, and given her child's physique, she may possess very powerful Originium Arts. At the same time, the person responsible for raising her is excellent, and she is currently in an environment that allows her to maintain emotional stability, distinguish right from wrong, and has a little bit of the ability to control her emotions."

“Board games.” He tapped his notebook, reducing the dozen or so options to just one. “The new Exotic Creed series from Witch Feast, or the previous Treasure House series, are both good scripts. Let her immerse herself in them, and teach her how to use Originium Arts for performance and atmosphere creation. Once she gradually learns to control her power, let her become a host among her peers. After running a few groups, she’ll know how to communicate and control her emotions.”

"Besides, this thing is really fun, kids will definitely love it. There have been official highlights and performances released before, so it's good to let her watch some non-spoiler videos first."

Gerald looked up at him. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

no respond.

Saria remained silent, simply standing still in place.

After a long while, she slowly raised a question.

What is a witch's feast?

This question pierced through everything Gerald wanted to say.

His bewildered mind finally realized that even a classic board game from Colombia, which has been advertised on television for years, was not a concept that could be ignored without explanation for the defense chief in front of him who was focused on his own goals.

That's really...

As a top-tier TRPG player who only watches online, you've really hit the nail on the head!

So on this day, Saria learned a lot.

Gerald also gained a lot from his mountain of reading list, along with a handwritten exam paper from the head of the defense department at Rhine Life.

------

One month later, Rhodes Island.

A girl with light blonde hair was carrying a package sent from Colombia and was running towards her dormitory as fast as she could.

Ifrit nearly bumped into an elite operator with four arms on the road. After quickly apologizing, she soon gained the other party's understanding, a word of advice, and a bag of handmade cookies.

But she couldn't contain her excitement, because just a few days ago, her sister Muirsey contacted her using her water clone, and Saria actually sent her a gift!

With a mix of excitement and anticipation, she quietly closed the door, making sure Hermer wasn't in the room, then tossed the package onto the bed and slowly unwrapped the outermost packaging.

When all the outer packaging was removed, Ifrit froze on the spot.

Just as Gerald recommended, the limited edition "Witch Feast" Exotic Creed series lies quietly in the box.

The outer packaging consists of an exquisitely crafted wooden box, inside which are chess pieces and handmade maps crafted by Colombia's finest artisans.

You ask me why Ifrit knew what was inside before even opening it?

That's because in the exhibition area that the girl cherished most, a wooden box exactly like the one in the package was lying quietly there, with a letter next to it.

The letter ended with this.

By, Hermer.

Chapter Ten: Thirty Days in Mansfield

Gerald, in prison, was unaware that the gift he instructed Seria to give would collide with a certain Liberian old woman, resulting in a horrific car accident.

He's currently busy with his incredibly difficult crash course for Terra medical students.

……

Day one of the crash course.

This time, he withstood twenty moves from General Felin.

Seriously, is she some kind of robot? The way she draws her sword and the force she uses are way too consistent, like she's on command, and she really doesn't seem to have any intelligence whatsoever. Humans—oh, Terra doesn't seem to have the concept of humans—can they really cultivate such a mutant?

On the other hand, Ms. Seria faithfully fulfilled her duties as a prison guard. Although he didn't know why she had the leisure to waste time in such a place, he was more inclined to regard it as the lady's refined taste.

As for the fact that their patrol area is basically located in Zone C, and they often go to the area with serious criminals... just ignore it.

It's easy to understand. No matter how talented he is in medicine, this busy man would never stay in a place where even information cannot circulate for four months just for him and Anthony.

He had seen many serious criminals, including some mad scientists and super criminals who disregarded the law.

Forget it, let her do whatever she wants. The dirty dealings within Columbia's research community are none of his business. He still needs to teach Anthony a few life-saving techniques later; he's the one who doesn't have enough time.

In matters like this, it's most important to be mindful of the appropriate degree of discretion.

……

Day seven of the crash course.

Good news, I used Originium Arts to make that lynx bleed, a small victory.

The bad news is that the monster seems to be even stronger than her. Its speed and strength are on a completely different level, making it impossible for her to withstand its attacks. She can only use Originium Arts to force a fight.

Incidentally, his head was actually chopped off this time, something that hadn't happened before. Perhaps she should pay more attention to the coordination between her and the monster in the future; relying solely on the wind to detect the opponent's attacks is completely insufficient for the intensity of the battle now.

In reality, ever since she talked to Saria about Ifrit, she seems less resistant to discussing her story with him, and she even asks him questions in her spare time.

Although she didn't go into the details, even the most general explanation could reveal a lot of information.

That kid really suffered a lot; a bunch of bastards.

He understands the idea that some people are willing to sacrifice everything for progress, but as he understands it, he's ultimately just an ordinary person. If something similar happened to someone he knows, he would skin them alive.

It's a pity I heard that most of those people are already dead. What a fucking bastard!

While listening to the story, he would occasionally look up at the person telling the story.

Saria's face remained expressionless as she quietly recounted the scenes she had witnessed, devoid of any emotion or personal opinion.

Even when sparring with him, her brows were furrowed, as if a heavy burden and responsibility weighed on her, constantly reminding her that she could not afford even a moment's rest.

Despite the immense academic and mental pressure he's been under lately—the battles in his dreams and the vast amount of material he needs to memorize have left him with almost no time to breathe—this pressure isn't forced upon him; it's simply a self-imposed constraint.

But Saria is different.