Chapter 694

It was ages since Ellen had last fallen asleep in a real bed, and even longer since she’d slept freely without tension, without the constant fear of an attack.

When Ellen awoke, the soft touch of the pillow against her cheek startled her. Her instincts, sharpened by years of hardship, made her suspicious of comfort.

Tweet... Tweet!

The chirping of birds from the jungle beyond the mansion’s window and the faint sound of waves reassured her that the events of the previous day were indeed real.

“Ah...”

Everything since the day before felt surreal. From reuniting with the black cat to waking up in the morning, each moment seemed like a strange, beautiful lie.

She wondered if she was just in a dream, one that a figment of her imagination had conjured up after succumbing to exhaustion by the lonely campfire. Or perhaps it was a fleeting vision, a final mirage before death claimed her, as she teetered on the edge of her physical limits.

No matter how much she tried to refute the idea, though, she could only conclude that what she was experiencing in that moment was real.

Usually, she would have been busy packing up and setting off as soon as she woke. She would walk, or sometimes run. Battling monsters. Gnawing on tree roots. Snatching brief moments of sleep in the rugged outdoors without even lying down.

After enduring such monotonous days, waking up suddenly on a soft, fluffy bed in a remote mansion felt incredibly strange. Strange, yet...

“Ugh...”

Ellen lay in bed, clutching her blanket tightly, feeling a bit silly but still unwilling to get up.

***

Eventually, she dragged herself to the shower, appreciating the comforting flow of water. Afterward, she slipped into a simple white cotton dress she had set out earlier and sat quietly, lost in thought.

Her stomach growled. She was hungry.

She was always hungry.

The meal the night before hadn’t been enough to satisfy her. The hunger that had settled deep within her bones over the years seemed insatiable, no matter how much she ate.

She made her way to the kitchen. The pantry was well-stocked with ingredients, and the kitchen was equipped with all the necessary tools and appliances.

Cooking in the field had always been a luxury she couldn’t afford, but during her time at the Temple, she had learned a great deal from Reinhart. Once she’d grasped the basics, improvising became second nature. As long as she had ingredients, she could cook whenever she wanted.

For the first time in a long while, Ellen wielded a kitchen knife instead of a combat knife and prepared to cook. She wasn’t planning anything extravagant. She simply wanted to make the meat stew she loved so much. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but Ellen intended to make a lot of it.

She wanted to release the pent-up frustration from her enforced poverty, and so she decided she’d cook an enormous amount, more than she could possibly finish. She’d eat until she was completely satisfied. The dish she made did not need to be perfectly crafted. Her dulled taste buds made anything she ate seem exquisite. She could still smell the aroma of the roasted lobster she’d enjoyed the day before, and the taste of it still lingered on her tongue.

She pulled out a large pot and began her preparations. She made herself a full pot of meat stew and began to eat. She ate messily, since there was no one around to watch her eat, unlike the day before.

It had been ages since she’d last lost her self-control in such a manner. For nearly two hours, she did nothing but eat. She was still engrossed in her meal when she suddenly heard a noise.

Clunk.

The mansion door swung open, and Reinhart walked in.

Unfortunately, he had a clear view into the kitchen from the doorway. He saw Ellen eating stew straight from the pot. She hadn’t bothered to set the table.

Ellen then noticed that the white dress she was wearing had been slightly stained with juice from the stew.

Reinhart noticed it too.

“...”

“...”

A moment of silence lingered between them.

Ellen’s gaze shifted to Reinhart, and she realized he wasn’t empty-handed. In his right hand, he held a large bag that resembled a lunchbox. Judging by its size, it was clear he had prepared quite a feast, anticipating Ellen’s appetite.

He had brought a meal just for her.

But Ellen, unable to wait, had already cooked a pot of stew and was eating it.

Reinhart had made a meal for her, yet she had made a generous amount of food for herself and was already eagerly devouring it.

Reinhart let out a sigh. It was probably one of pity rather than disdain. How long had she gone hungry?

His sigh seemed full of sympathy, yet it cut through her heart like a knife.

“...”

She had expected she would cry when they finally met.

She was scared of Reinhart.

Mostly, she felt guilty.

She felt tears welling up again.

Why did she always find herself in these embarrassing situations that made her cry?

Ellen cried once more.

***

As Ellen had suspected, Reinhart had indeed brought a meal.

The food he presented to her was far superior to the messy feast she had thrown together in her hunger.

Reinhart arranged an array of dishes on the table in front of Ellen, who sat there with the guilty look of someone caught sneaking a midnight snack on the first day of a diet.

After setting all the dishes onto the table, Reinhart paused and looked at Ellen.

“I suppose I was a bit harsh yesterday,” he muttered.

Ellen was startled. “H-huh...?”

‘What is he talking about now?’

“I told you to wash up, but I didn’t say to scrub your skin off.”

“Ah, ah...”

Ellen had indeed scrubbed herself so vigorously the day before that her normally pale skin was still red. Her calves, thighs, and neck were chafed almost raw. If the visible areas of her skin looked that bad, the hidden parts of her had to be in an even worse state.

Yet despite feeling on the verge of collapse from exhaustion, she had even taken the time to trim her nails meticulously the night before. It wasn’t like she had anything specific to prepare for, yet it still seemed like she had been preparing herself for something. Although she had thought it was absurd, she’d done it anyway.

Ellen couldn’t find the right words to respond. Instead, she blushed for an entirely different reason and lowered her head.

Reinhart imagined Ellen scrubbing herself while crying after being told she looked like a stray dog rolling in the gutter. A subtle smile played on his lips.

“How’s the skin?” he asked. “Is it peeling all right?”

Immediately Ellen began to tear up. “Ugh... Ugh... Argh...”

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. Hey. I won’t do it anymore. I said I won’t!” Reinhart declared quickly, shaking his head vigorously as he sensed Ellen on the brink of another emotional outburst.

“...”

It was obvious that he wanted to say something else entirely, yet all he did was continue to tease her with odd remarks. He only spoke of light, inconsequential things, and it was clearly deliberate on his part.

It wasn’t that his words were infuriating. It was that they were so joyfully painful, that they made it feel as if everything could return to how it once was, despite how laden with guilt she felt.

It seemed like all she had to do was accept it.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

It was just sad, and it made her feel even more sorry.

Even without Ellen saying a word, Reinhart seemed to understand her feelings from her expression.

Eventually, he managed a bitter smile and stood up.

“Eat. I’ll be going.”

“...”

Reinhart left the mansion once more, respecting Ellen’s dignity.

Ellen finished the meal that had been prepared for her. She couldn’t avoid eating. Not a single bite was left.

Despite her feelings, it was undeniably delicious.

***

This routine persisted for some time.

Reinhart didn’t visit every day. Sometimes he skipped a day, and when he did visit, he often didn’t stay long. More often than not, he just made a brief appearance before leaving.

He rarely spoke, never raised his voice at her, and did not bombard her with questions. He never told her what to do or invaded her personal space. He maintained a respectful distance.

It was Ellen who felt the anxiety. She wished he would say something. Was he going to keep her confined like this, and was she expected to accept this life?

She wanted to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Her guilt stopped her. It was hard enough to endure meeting his gaze in silence, let alone ask him anything.

The days of sleeping and eating to her heart’s content lasted only a short while.

She spent nights wide awake.

It did not feel right for her to live in such a manner. If she wanted to atone for her sins, if she wanted to make amends for what she had done to the world, she couldn’t remain in such a place.

Compulsions surged within her, driving her into a cycle of self-torment and anguish. She feared she might grow complacent, but instead, the torment only intensified. As her body settled into comfort, her mind seemed to unravel further.

Two weeks slipped by. Time drifted quietly around her, no matter whether she felt anxious or restless. It was enough time for the fatigue of several years to begin to wash away.

She had always possessed remarkable resilience and stamina.

She ate well, and when she could, she slept soundly.

During those days, on yet another sunny morning...

“Come outside,” Reinhart called to her.

***

Dressed in a white dress and sandals, Ellen followed Reinhart to the beach.

“By now, you should be back to your original condition, right?”

“Huh? Ah... Y-yeah...”

“Then, let’s really do it now.”

In one swift motion, something appeared in Reinhart’s right hand. It was a sword instead of a branch.

Ellen’s eyes widened in shock.

The sword of the War God, Alsbringer... It was now in Reinhart’s grasp.

“Did you think I fed and sheltered you just to raise a pig that doesn’t gain weight no matter how much it eats?”

Reinhart’s words were harsh, yet Ellen nodded, her expression filled with resignation.

“I guess not...” she replied.

He hadn’t said thus far because, ultimately, it all traced back to that first day.

He had seen Ellen at her mental and physical breaking point that day, and had given her space until she could return to her usual self.

‘Two weeks...’

Though she had wrestled with her tangled ball of thoughts on some of those nights, those two weeks had been enough for Ellen to fully recover.

“Do you have Lament?”

Why was he asking that? Had it gone missing before?

At Reinhart’s unexpected question, Ellen simply nodded.

“Then take it out,” he commanded. Reinhart’s voice was cold, as if to say he wouldn’t tolerate any excuses this time.

What would happen if she refused?

Ellen hesitated, clutching the hem of her dress.

“I’m... wearing a dress...” she said cautiously.

“So what?”

“...”

Reinhart’s indifference left Ellen speechless. His expression made it clear he didn’t care about such details.

“I have five wives now. Do you really think I care about seeing your underwear?”

“...”

“Just shut up and take out Lament.”

Ellen took a deep breath, stung by his harsh words.

He was right. She had no right to protest.

There were things she couldn’t do, but there were things she had to do. On that first day, she had not been able to control her emotions, mind, or body. So she had been beaten until she passed out. Her sword had wavered, and so had her heart.

But two weeks had passed. While it was still overwhelming, she had grown somewhat accustomed to seeing Reinhart’s face again after five years.

Moreover, her strength had returned. She had rested so well that it felt as if the old grime on her body and mind had been washed away, leaving her feeling refreshed.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so perfectly at ease.

She had rested well.

She had rested for a long, long time.

And she had also eaten well.

On that first day in the mansion, Reinhart had tried to discuss something with her, but seeing Ellen’s frazzled state, he had decided against it. Instead, he’d let her eat and rest as much as she needed. He spoke only when necessary, not out of concern for Ellen or because he lacked things to say. He had simply chosen to wait until she was back to her usual self.

Ellen still didn’t know what to do. Did she deserve forgiveness? Did she deserve this life?

It didn’t feel right, but there was something she could do.

Reinhart needed to know something, and Ellen was now in the perfect state he had envisioned. All she had to do was show him what he wanted to know.

His aim was clear.

The confusion and hesitation finally faded away. Ellen, who had been trembling in fear, crying in sorrow, and tormented by guilt while stranded on the deserted island, finally regained her composure.

She carefully removed her sandals, placed them neatly on the sand beside her and stepped out onto the sandy beach with her bare, white feet.

Reinhart watched Ellen quietly.

Ellen took a deep breath and looked at Reinhart. Her expression was calm, her gaze serene, just as it always was when she faced him.

“Do you really want to beat me that much?” she asked.

Reinhart nodded without hesitation. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He remembered the first day when Ellen had seemed too weak to even be a worthy opponent. This time, he wanted to see just how strong he had become. He wanted to prove himself by facing Ellen when she was at her peak. He wanted to know whether he had surpassed the very teacher who taught him how to fight.

Ellen smiled faintly. All she needed to do was to accept his challenge. There would be anger, resentment, and fury. But he was determined to confront her with all his strength, so he had kept his emotions in check and waited until she was in her best condition.

She would put all other matters aside for the time being, and give it her all.

In a swift motion, Lament appeared in her right hand.

Ellen couldn’t help but notice that her holy relic had changed. Lament, which had once been as black as the night sky, had returned to its cold, silver form. It was just the Sword of the Moon.

“Ah...”

The Void Sword was no longer.

Ellen understood that Lament responded to sorrow, and simply being near Reinhart had made Lament shed its void form.

It seemed sorrow faded away so effortlessly. It vanished just by being together.

Was she no longer sad?

“What do you think? Is your holy relic acting up?” Reinhart chuckled, as if he already knew the answer.

“And what about Lapelt?” Reinhart inquired further, questioning her decision not to summon the Mantle of the Sun.

Ellen smiled brightly, her confidence unwavering. “It’s in perfect condition,” she replied teasingly.

“Do I really need it?” she added, a hint of provocation in her voice.

Reinhart raised an eyebrow. “What if you end up summoning it later? How embarrassing would that be?”

“That’s a problem for future me,” Ellen shrugged, unfazed.

Reinhart assessed the space between them, steadying his grip on Alsbringer as he held it out, its tip pointed toward Ellen.

There had been days like this in the past.

A never-ending series of them.

She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do. But for the moment, she had resolved to give it everything she had, so she didn’t wait for him to make the first move. Instead, she took the initiative.

Whoosh!

The hem of her dress fluttered wildly as Ellen, eyes wide open, thrust Lament toward Reinhart’s chest.

Seeing the sharp focus in her eyes and the sword’s precise trajectory, Reinhart smiled. It seemed this was exactly what he wanted.

Clang!

Lament and Alsbringer collided, unleashing a tempest of mana that sent sand flying across the beach.

“I can’t speak for anything else, but...”

Ellen thrust her sword upward, her gaze icy as she locked eyes with Reinhart.

“You’ve grown quite arrogant, Reinhart.”

Ellen Artorius... The Hero, already whispered to be dead, spoke with a chilling calmness as she parried the Demon King’s blade.

‘I wronged you. I betrayed you. I fled from you. Defeating me, however, is a different story altogether.

‘You wanted to see me at my best, so that’s exactly what you’ll get. No, I can even still afford to hold back a move or two.’

Ellen Artorius communicated all this to him with just a look.

“At this level, isn’t it justified?” replied the Demon King with a sly smile as he parried her strike and pushed back against Ellen’s sword.

Rumble!

A storm of mana erupted, and the two fierce opponents were thrown apart.

Both landed gracefully, avoiding a tumble across the sand.

Ellen charged forward with determination as she gripped Lament.

At the same moment, Reinhart rushed in to meet her.

The hem of the hero’s white dress and the Demon King’s shirt billowed wildly in the wind.