Chapter 18: The Power of Carol — The Power of the Holy Sword ②

Having reaffirmed my purpose—doing this for the sake of the two girls, and also to burn the sight of yet-unseen couples into my memory—I renewed my resolve and began my training.

After experiencing countless ways of dying—being cut down, having my throat pierced, being burned alive, drowning, and more—I could confidently say my “death radar” had become extremely sensitive.

And that radar was now screaming at me with everything it had: run. Run away from whatever lethal concoction the elf in front of me was about to create.

"Hey… if I eat that, I won’t die, right?"

"What are you talking about? First, we’ll build up your tolerance with poisons that won’t kill you. We’ll start with the ones that just give you stomach trouble."

As she said that, the emerald-haired elf in front of me began harvesting a strangely bright plant—one that anyone could tell looked poisonous at a glance.

I had to object. There was no way not to.

"Why do I have to eat poison in a dream of all places?"

"If you refuse to try things just because you dislike them, you’ll never grow."

"That still doesn’t justify eating poison, though, does it???"

To begin with, even if this was a dream, it wasn’t an ordinary one. This was a training ground chosen by the Knight Commander, empowered by the Forest of Magic Mist—a place capable of influencing reality itself.

Just moments ago, I had begun training that killed me nearly a hundred times, and I had personally experienced the effects carrying over.

So let me state this clearly: if you get poisoned here in this “dream,” the poison will absolutely affect you in the real world too.

"You can relax about that part. My real self will detoxify you, so you won’t die in reality."

"If you said ‘in reality,’ does that mean I’m supposed to die in the dream?"

"Isn’t it a little late to complain? There are only two ways to grow here: die and grow, or grow while desperately trying not to die."

"It’s a bit late to say this, but I’m starting to regret coming here."

"For someone who’s died one hundred thirty-four times, you’re holding up pretty well."

Apparently my sense of scale was completely off. I hadn’t realized I’d already been killed over a hundred times. Honestly, with how many different ways she had done it, I was starting to feel a little afraid of the beautiful elf standing before me—Carol.

Still, watching her carefully inspect poisonous plants while cutting through the grass was… surprisingly cute.

"By the way, Carol, do you happen to have Magic Eyes?"

"...Why would you think that?"

"Because your eyes have been glowing now and then."

Normally, her eyes were gray. But whenever she looked at my Holy Sword, they shone the same emerald color as her hair.

Magic Eyes were exactly what the name suggested—eyes that naturally wield magical power. Normally, casting magic required deep understanding, and sometimes spells activated incompletely.

Magic Eyes didn’t have that limitation.

Even if they were limited to a single ability, simply channeling magic power through them could activate that magic while ignoring every other requirement. That alone made them incredibly powerful.

Even I had managed to cast magic during that deadly battle by pouring magic into the Holy Sword—but I couldn’t honestly say my success rate was high.

"...That’s right. Both my eyes are Magic Eyes."

"Huh. I figured."

"................................"

"Ugh… I don’t like that wild plant. It’s too bitter. Can’t we pick something else?"

"Wait, that’s it!? Aren’t you going to ask what kind of magic it is!? Aren’t you curious!?"

Well, I was curious. But if she didn’t want to talk about it, forcing it out of someone who was currently helping me felt wrong. Especially if it meant reopening an old wound for Carol.

"I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. But whether I know or not won’t change how I treat you. To me, you’re just a girl who loves magic tools, who was kind to a random human who suddenly showed up, and who’s working hard because she listened to what someone she just met had to say. A cute girl. That’s all I need to know, right?"

"...I think the last part was unnecessary."

"The ‘cute girl’ part? That’s non-negotiable. Because it’s the truth."

I lie sometimes, but most of the time I try to speak honestly.

If you don’t, your lies eventually unravel when it matters most.

A man who usually speaks honestly becomes much harder to doubt when he lies. Trust is important.

Well… the real reason was that the sight of her hiding her reddening face under her hat while pretending to focus on picking poison plants was adorable.

Seeing a cute girl get embarrassed really does feel like some kind of life-giving nutrient for the body.

"So anyway, why exactly do I have to eat poison?"

"...To get your body used to it. Your first hypothetical opponent in the King’s War is the most promising successor from the Spear King’s faction, right? I heard that if his spear wounds you, your body goes numb and you can’t move."

"So that’s why poison. But can someone really gain poison resistance that easily…?"

"What are you talking about? This isn’t about building resistance. We’re looking for poisonous plants so you can learn to move even while poisoned. You won’t always fight in perfect condition. Learn how to move when your body is failing."

So this was knowledge accumulated by an elf who had lived for ages.

Still, there was very little information about the spear successor’s power. Definitely not something I could afford to underestimate.

"You’d probably figure it out if you saw it in person. Especially if it’s the power of a magic tool. Unless it’s a ‘deep’ type like that Holy Sword of yours."

"But you don’t want to go, right? Since you choose to live here, I mean. Places with lots of people. Honestly, if I could just laze around at home all day, I’d do it too. So I get how you feel."

"You’d dive headfirst into a crowd if there was something there you wanted. If we’re the same type, that’s the part I mean."

After finishing her harvesting, she dumped the poisonous plants into a pot she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere—shaped almost like a sickle—and began boiling them.

As she stirred the pot, she looked straight at me.

It was the kind of look someone gives when they think they’ve finally found a kindred spirit.

"I’ve heard about you. When you see lovers together, your eyes sparkle and you stop noticing anything else. That’s quite the hobby."

"Says the person who came charging down from a mountaintop with a terrifying look the moment she sensed the presence of a rare magic tool—the Holy Sword."

Purple smoke rose from the pot. The soup inside had turned into a color that absolutely no human should ever drink.

I couldn’t focus on the conversation because my eyes kept drifting back to it.

Still, this was probably an important conversation.

At this point, I was responding almost on reflex—I barely understood what I was saying myself.

"I’ve never seen someone so influenced by their past life. And I’ve lived quite a long time, you know."

At her words, my attention finally shifted away from the pot and toward Carol.

She continued stirring without looking my way. Because of her hat, I couldn’t even tell where her eyes were directed.

"I told you, didn’t I? My eyes can see through many things. Magic tools… and the souls of others. Eyes that expose things you’d rather not see."

Her voice trembled slightly.

I wanted to know why she had revealed that.

But I also felt like interrupting her now would be wrong, so I stayed silent.

"If you’re not creeped out by someone with Magic Eyes like mine… maybe you could tell me a few things."

"...That’s not fair."

If she said that, there was no way I could refuse.

I took the poisonous herb soup she offered, gulped it down in one shot, and began to speak.

About my life before coming to this world.

About the story of how I became who I am.

"Hyah thith ih my thory from my prrrev—"

"Yes, the poison worked much faster than expected. That’s surprising."

That was far too anticlimactic.

My body could really stand to learn how to read the room a little better.