Anastasia tensed as her mother, Zenith, reached out to check her forehead.
Thinking quickly, she discreetly activated a faint ice spell, just enough to commit to the bit.
"Oh dear... You really do have a fever," Zenith murmured with concern. "Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?"
Anastasia, now fully locked into her own scheme, sighed dramatically and leaned weakly against the chair. "Well... My idiot father never gets it, so why bother?*"
Zenith frowned, nodding in agreement. "That’s true. Your father is an idiot. Unlike you, my little genius."
Paul, who had been casually reading a magazine nearby, suddenly took psychic damage.
"What did I do?!" he yelped, looking around in confusion.
"Indeed, Mother," Anastasia said smoothly, ignoring Paul’s suffering. "You are absolutely right. I am far more intelligent than Father, which of course makes me... more prone to illness." She sighed as if realizing this for the first time.
Paul looked up, eyes wide, his half-eaten bread trembling in his grip.
He had just been sitting here, minding his own business…
Why was he under attack?!
The next morning, the family gathered for breakfast.
Rudeus stole a gnce at Anastasia. She looked perfectly fine, as if the fever had never happened.
He clenched his fist under the table.
If he didn’t at least try to mend things with her, their retionship would keep spiraling.
So, he took a deep breath and—keeping his tone as casual as possible—said,"Huh. Guess the fever didn’t hit you that hard, huh, chuuni sister?"
Anastasia looked at him with an unreadable expression before replying smoothly,"Indeed. Because unlike Father, I actually get sick."
Then, with a smirk, she added, "But I’m sure my Dhampir brother can’t rete, since you and Father are basically the same."
Rudeus frowned, trying to decode her words.
Wait.
What was she implying?
Paul, however, immediately understood.
His grip on his fork trembled as he looked to Zenith with a desperate, please comfort me expression.
Zenith met his gaze and, without a word, made her response very clear:
No.
Paul slumped in his seat, looking completely defted.
Zenith, on the other hand, simply sighed and gnced between her children.
Well… at least they were interacting now.
That was something, right?
After breakfast and a quick warm-up, Lilia resumed training Anastasia.
For efficiency, she decided on a strict six-hour daily regimen, splitting the time evenly between the three major sword styles.
Anastasia, of course, had no say in this.
They had just finished Sword God training, so now it was time for North God Style—though calling it training felt like an overstatement.
Unlike the other styles, North God wasn’t about technique—it was about survival.
"For today," Lilia began, "we will cover first aid, knife throwing, and dual wielding."
Anastasia, who had been nodding along, bnked at that st part.
"Wait. Dual wielding?"
She frowned.
Not once had she seen any proper sword style that used two swords.
Which meant—
She had to invent it herself.
Her eyes lit up at the thought. If she had to experiment with it, then that meant she could make it as fshy and elegant as she wanted!
But before she could dive into grand ideas of her own signature dual-sword flourish, Lilia moved on to the Water God training.
For this, Anastasia had to stand perfectly still inside a small circle on the ground while blocking Lilia’s attacks.
No dodging. No moving out of pce.
Only pure defense.
Anastasia took a deep breath and removed her sensory magic, relying solely on her instincts.
Which, as it turned out, was a terrible idea.
Within seconds, she took multiple clean hits.
She wanted to bme herself—No.
She wanted to bme Lilia—No.
She wanted to bme reality itself.
But ultimately, she could only seethe in frustration.
Her reliance on magic was far deeper than she thought.
...Not that she would ever admit it.
Because, of course, Anastasia’s rule was simple:
"I do not rely on magic in combat."
Everything else?
...Well, quality-of-life magic was obviously exempt from that rule.
It wasn’t cheating if it was just making life easier, right?
Right.
It was completely fine to be a little hypocritical.
After the brutal reality check of her over-reliance on magic, Anastasia focused on her next lesson: first aid.
Lilia id out the materials—cloth, herbs, and potions—before expining how to patch oneself up mid-fight using only one hand.
Anastasia took to it easily.
Her dexterity was already well-developed, making one-handed bandaging feel like a simple puzzle.
Next came knife throwing.
Lilia demonstrated first—her form was steady, and the knife stuck into the target. It wasn’t perfect, but it was effective.
Anastasia, however, failed spectacurly.
The knife bounced off the scarecrow with a dull thud.
She frowned.
Unacceptable.
Her mission became clear—
She had to make it work.
Experimenting, she adjusted her throwing angle—no good.
She tweaked her grip—closer, but not quite.
She shifted her stance, steadied her wrist, and threw again.
Thud.
The bde sank into the target.
Anastasia’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smirk.
But this wasn’t enough.
Now, she had to make it faster.
More precise.
Less obvious.
Not that she pnned to integrate such a cheap trick into her combat style.
She had standards.
Then came dual wielding.
And it was horrendous.
She had expected grace, elegance, a flowing rhythm—
Instead, it was awkward, clunky, and visually offensive.
Anastasia grimaced.
I refuse to let something this ugly become my style.
But then—
An idea.
Instead of starting with two swords—
What if she began with one, and then, in the middle of an attack, materialized a second bde to finish the combo?
The thought alone made her eyes sparkle.
Lilia blinked at the sudden excitement in Anastasia’s expression.
"Young Lady?"
Anastasia ignored her.
She was already mentally designing her future, breathtaking, unparalleled dual-sword technique.
But before that—she had to master dual wielding first.
Roxy wandered the border towns of Asura Kingdom, her search for a teaching job proving far more difficult than expected.
With no luck in the main cities, she scanned the job boards in smaller settlements.
That was when she found it.
A job request written by someone named Paul Greyrat, stating he needed a magic tutor.
Roxy carefully removed the parchment and turned to a passerby.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Paul Greyrat?"
The vilger, after a brief gnce at the notice, pointed down the road.
"Just a bit further—biggest house in the area. Can’t miss it."
Roxy nodded in thanks before making her way toward the estate.
As she approached, she mentally prepared herself.
A noble house, no doubt. Probably some spoiled brat who had just awakened their mana, and now everyone was hailing them as a genius.
Roxy sighed.
She had seen far too many of those.
Just as she raised her hand to knock, a rhythmic ccking sound caught her attention from the side of the house.
Curious, she turned the corner—
And froze.
Two people were sparring in the training yard.
A red-haired woman and a young girl.
But it was the girl who captivated Roxy instantly.
She was beautiful.
Golden locks flowed behind her with every movement, reminiscent of sunlit wheat swaying in the wind.
Her swordpy was calcuted, fluid, almost like a dance.
She blocked attacks with unshakable grace, each step measured, each motion precise.
A princess?
No—
This girl would grow to become more beautiful than any princess.
Then, suddenly—
The girl’s gaze swept toward Roxy.
Their eyes met.
Roxy’s heart skipped a beat.
The girl’s movements halted.
With a simple gesture, she signaled the red-haired woman to stop sparring.
Then, with effortless poise, she approached Roxy.
And in a single, fwless motion, she performed a graceful bow.
"Welcome, esteemed magician, to our estate."
Her voice was soft yet commanding.
"I presume you are the teacher who will instruct my Vampiric Brother?"
She ended her sentence with a radiant smile.
And Roxy—
Roxy was utterly mesmerized.
