A Mother’s Resolve

When Freya opened her eyes again, she found the monster in front of her had vanished, replaced by a familiar face.

Flaxen hair, amber eyes.

“Staring, are we?”

And that punchable face.

‘Yes, it was definitely Rolan.’

Freya glanced around, realizing she was currently held in his arms. She reached out, grabbed one of Rolan’s arms, and bit down hard, with several times the force of her previous bite.

“A-a-a-a-ah!” Rolan’s face twitched in pain, forcing him to set her down. “Are you insane?!”

Landing on the ground, Freya finally released her grip, exclaiming with excitement, “It wasn’t a dream! I’m not dead!”

“Nonsense!” Rolan gently massaged his poor arm. “If you wanted to know if it was a dream, why didn’t you bite yourself?”

“Hmph,” Freya pouted, turning her head away. Her gaze then fell upon the monster’s corpse, and she paused. “The monster is dead?”

“Dead,” Rolan replied irritably. “You really know how to find trouble. Just a moment away, and you’ve already attracted this monster. I sensed its magic fluctuations just now; its level was around LV15. If I hadn’t suddenly remembered how to use [Army Breaker Ascending Dragon Strike], you would have been eaten by now.”

“Didn’t you say not to follow?” Freya grumbled. “Why did you come after me again?”

Rolan sneered. “I heard someone screaming for help. Wasn’t that reason enough for me to rush over?”

‘Oh, was that it…’

After a moment of hesitation, Freya gathered her courage and slowly approached Rolan. She gently touched the spot she had just bitten, asking timidly with her head bowed, “Does it still hurt?”

“Tch, you tell me if it hurts or not…”

*Smack.*

Rolan felt something soft lightly brush his left cheek.

Coming back to his senses, he saw the little Demon Lord’s slightly flushed cheeks and moist, glistening eyes.

“And now?” Freya began to rub his arm again, her delicate, boneless hands making his entire body tingle.

‘Now? Now it’s not just that spot that hurts, I also…’

‘Damn it, what’s going on? Why is my heart beating so fast?’

‘Am I sick?’

Rolan touched his forehead, confirming it felt a little warm.

He instinctively turned his head, gently pushed Freya away, and said nervously, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Alright, let’s head back quickly. We should finish eating and get going soon.”

“Hm?” Freya watched his retreating back. ‘How strange, what kind of reaction was that?’ Turning to glance at the dark forest around her, she quickly followed after him.

****

“What took you so long?” Old Jenny frowned. “What happened with Freya just now?”

“Nothing much, just some wild beasts followed us,” Rolan replied, placing [Thunder’s Fury] onto the trailer. To his surprise, Old Jenny grabbed his hand.

“What’s the deal with this sword?” Old Jenny asked, her expression tense. “Is it really the scrap metal you said you got from a blacksmith at the Elven Defense Line?”

“That’s right. You know I don’t have money for anything good,” Rolan forced a smile. “Mother, don’t worry about these details. Let’s just…”

“Hrrk—”

“Hrr-hrrk—”

“Roar—”

Suddenly, a series of roars erupted from behind them. Rolan whirled around, and a cold sweat immediately began to pour down his back.

It was those monsters again, and more than just one.

Freya swallowed, hiding behind Rolan. She tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “This sword of yours isn’t really scrap metal, is it?”

“If it were scrap metal,” Rolan sighed, “you would have already died.”

“I knew it, you rascal, you’re definitely hiding something from me! *Sigh*…” Old Jenny looked at Rolan with a complicated gaze, letting out a deep sigh. She then laboriously picked up a cleaver from the trailer and shouted, “Enough talk! You two go on ahead!”

As she finished speaking, she had already positioned herself between the monsters and Rolan.

Rolan’s eyes widened as he watched her stand before him, her body trembling with fear. Her slightly hunched back, dwarfed by the monsters’ massive forms, seemed utterly vulnerable.

Yet, Old Jenny’s resolute expression made her appear like an unyielding bulwark.

He remembered a time in his childhood, shortly after he and his mother arrived in Green Village. When some village children tried to bully him, this woman had stood up for him in the very same way.

‘You fool, it’s not those mischievous children coming this time. It’s man-eating monsters.’

“Hrrk—” A blood-red figure, trailing a long shadow, roared forward. The monster flexed its terrifying muscles, lunged upwards, then swung its sharp claws, plummeting down to tear apart the old woman before it.

*Whoosh—*

Thunder rumbled, electricity flashed, appearing and vanishing in a breath.

Rolan lowered the short sword in his hand, standing before Old Jenny. At his feet lay the corpse of the monster from moments ago.

In Old Jenny’s eyes, a myriad of emotions flickered: astonishment, excitement, relief, and helplessness. But as she closed her eyes, Rolan could only see the tears, shed for reasons unknown, streaming down her face.

“What’s there to cry about?” Rolan shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. He turned to face the remaining monsters and added, “Your son has grown up. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Good…” Old Jenny took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and then emphatically repeated, “Good!”

The monsters showed no fear at the death of their comrade; instead, they swarmed forward with even greater frenzy.

In an instant, at least three undead monsters assailed Rolan.

[Sword Skill: Triple Slash] + [Ghost Step]

His form was like a shadow, his sword like the wind.

Three slashes struck, and in three breaths, it was over.

Utilizing the past-life skills he had learned from the Holy Sword, Rolan took merely three breaths to cut down three terrifying undead creatures.

“Amazing, amazing!” Freya clapped from behind him. “Go, husband~”

“Heh…” A bead of cold sweat trickled down Rolan’s forehead. He muttered in a voice no one else could hear, ‘If you remember this when you return to normal, you’ll probably be disgusted to death.’

The monsters surged forward again, this time numbering five.

Rolan met them once more, this time with five swift strikes.

Seeing that distant figure, Old Jenny felt a sense of both unfamiliarity and familiarity. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Is this…” A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. “Fate?”

At that moment, countless monsters emerged from the forest ahead, their hollow eyes multiplying, their roars growing louder.

Rolan even sensed numerous powerful and eerie magical fluctuations.

‘Tsk, this is troublesome.’

He slowly tightened his grip on the [Thunder’s Fury] short sword.

‘After mastering [Divine Artifact Mastery], I absorbed the Holy Sword’s residual power within me, increasing my level from LV20 to LV25. I had thought that, if not entirely worry-free, I could at least protect myself against monsters. I never imagined there would be so many, and that they would be so troublesome.’

‘The forest ahead definitely holds more than just LV15 undead; there must be LV20, or even LV25, entities present.’

Rolan focused his senses.

‘Yes, that’s right. Ordinary undead are entirely dark-attributed. A few further away seem to have a mix of fire and dark attributes. And the one even further… water attribute?’

‘What the hell? Why water attribute? Isn’t water a gentle attribute? Wait, there seems to be a cold aura… that must be the ice form of the water attribute.’

“Freya,” Rolan said, twisting his neck and waving her over. “Hand me that sword.”

The latter quickly pulled a bundle from the trailer and, with a strenuous effort, tossed it over with both hands.

Rolan watched the strange object flying towards him. He deftly wrapped his short sword around it, unwrapped the bundle, and then securely caught the sword within.

At this moment, he held [Thunder’s Fury] in his left hand and the Holy Sword in his right. His gaze fell upon the monsters, yet his mind replayed the scene of him butchering a sheep that morning.

Sword intent surged. He leaned forward into a ready stance for a charge, his lips curving upward. “My little lambs, are you ready?”

Meanwhile, Old Jenny, standing behind him, watched Rolan’s retreating back. In her mind, his figure slowly merged with that of another person.

“Too similar…” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and within those tears, a flood of memories. “Too similar…”

“Similar to what?” Freya tilted her head, asking curiously.

“Like his father,” Old Jenny choked out the name. “Ezio Auditore.”