The next day.
Aria, after a light breakfast, went to Kisarabis’s room to report on the results of the trainees’ practice.
“Hooh.”
Kisarabis was genuinely pleased that it had value as a weapon, and exchanged words with Aria about who would be equipped with Rayos (Knife).
” I’m not very familiar with the trainees. Judging by the documents…”
“Hmm, that might be true. In that case, I’ll have someone else select them. You, at the Magic Chemistry Academia, help replenish the Magic Stone’s magic power.”
“Yes.”
“Do your best, Aria.”
“…You seem quite close, don’t you? Letting him call you by your nickname.”
Kisarabis remembered that yesterday Aria had also called him casually.
Well, normally people don’t let others call them by their nicknames unless they are superiors or close friends.
It’s just a weapon, and a knife at that.
“Uh, um…”
“It’s fine if you want him to call you that. However, it’s a knife. You are an elite who graduated from the Magic Chemistry Academia at the top of your class. For such an elite to be called by their nickname by a legendary weapon, even if it’s a knife… No, no, it’s fine if you don’t mind.”
Kisarabis himself was also an elite who graduated at the top of his class.
He wanted to say that even though they were both elites, their standing was different.
How childish… Is it jealousy of youth, or jealousy of those who summoned legendary weapons?
Aria, oblivious to the veiled insult, handed the legendary weapon to Kisarabis and went to the Magic Chemistry Academia to replenish the magic stone as instructed.
Kisarabis and Rayos were left in the room.
…
A long silence.
Rayos was prepared to answer if Kisarabis spoke to him.
Kisarabis was thinking about who to equip the knife with.
Kisarabis sat in his chair, looking at the profiles of promising individuals spread out on his desk, and continued to ponder who should wield the knife, which was sharp but had a short reach.
Rayos was placed in a corner of the desk.
He considered leaving in his Astral Body, but figured it would be bad if a master was chosen and his opinion wasn’t heard. So, he endured staying.
Being alone with the old man was close to torture.
Rayos endured it well.
* *Knock, knock.*
“Kisarabis-sama, I’ve brought you a cup of tea to refresh yourself.”
“Hmm.”
Kisarabis took a sip of his tea.
Rayos sent a mental wave to Kisarabis: “My owner should be a woman.”
It was a light mind control spell.
The target was relaxed, in a safe room, with guards outside.
Kisarabis, not being wary of enemies due to magic detection, accepted the mind control along with the tea.
He re-examined the documents on his desk and selected the profiles of women.
He narrowed down the candidates. Rayos grinned at this. His plan was working.
If it failed, he was out. It was a reckless mind control spell. It was very dangerous… Perhaps being alone with the old man had pushed him to his mental limits.
Kisarabis finished his tea and finally narrowed it down to one person.
Since there were no portraits on the documents, Rayos prayed to the gods of beauty that he would be assigned to a woman who would become a beauty in the future, or a rough stone that would shine with polishing.
* *Ring.*
He rang the call bell on his desk and called the guard protecting the door.
” “What is it, Kisarabis-sama?” ”
Kisarabis handed the knife, possessed by Rayos, to the guard and ordered him to deliver it and compile his impressions.
” “Understood. Do you require anything else? Excuse me.” ”
Kisarabis glanced at the empty cup and had the guard clear it.
The guard quickly left the room, closed the door completely, and discussed the tasks of the knife and the cup.
“I was the one who brought it last time, wasn’t I?”
“No, I made the tea.”
Delivering a cheap knife. And telling the person to summarize their impressions.
Explaining it was troublesome.
Was it a relief that the recipient wasn’t a man?
The guards finally decided by rock-paper-scissors.
“Yay!”
“Damn it!”
Rayos was angry at the guard, urging him to let him meet a woman quickly.
“Hey, who is this soldier named Fatiah!?”
The guard arrived at the training ground where the official soldiers were gathered.
He asked a soldier who was practicing nearby.
The soldier who was addressed was startled.
It was an elite guard himself, who was entrusted with the protection of a superior.
He never imagined that an elite would inquire about such a place, a training ground for pathetic soldiers who would be sent to the front lines and eventually fall in battle (a glorious death for the country).
“What is it?”
The guard, wondering why the soldier he addressed was blinking and rubbing his eyes, asked.
“N-no! I remember the reason for your visit clearly! Hey!? Fatiah!?”
Being noticed by an elite, and the next day to the front lines…
With a shiver, fearing a sudden transfer order, he quickly called for Private First Class Fatiah.
* *Murmurs.*
At the voice, everyone in the training ground turned around.
Is it an emergency? Is someone being lectured…? They were relieved it wasn’t their name.
“Yes! You called for… you called for me, Sir Knight!?”
In Fatiah’s mind, the elite was a knight.
“Ah, use this knife from today. And compile a report on its usability. When enough is accumulated, I will send someone to retrieve it. This is an order from Kisarabis-sama, the Head Magician. Accept it with reverence.”
“What? Huh!? An order… from the Head Magician!?”
Did Fatiah do something to catch the eye of the Head Magician?
He was quite perplexed.
Rayos, looking at Fatiah, rejoiced, “Yes! A rough stone—♪”
The guard, to encourage him, disappeared from the gaze of those around him who were wondering why he was in such a place.
The soldier who had called Fatiah, wondering why Fatiah was being used for a practical test of a knife, and seeking to earn some extra money with this information at dinner.
Putting aside what he didn’t understand for now, he spoke to Fatiah, who was looking alternately at the knife and the direction the elite had gone.
“Y-yes!!”
“Don’t be so surprised…”
“I’m sorry… but…”
“No buts about it. Hurry back to training with that knife. I’ll finish my break soon, so I’ll spar with you.”
The soldier tried to probe Fatiah, wanting to get more information to earn extra money about how much his superior, who had sent the elite, would favor this.
Was his salary that low?
Rayos watched Fatiah and the soldier’s mock battle without interfering, offering only encouragement to Fatiah.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Rayos did not increase the sharpness of the knife.
It was not advantageous for the soldier who was equipped with a dull longsword.
Due to the difference in weapon reach, Fatiah lost his balance, and his throat was pressed by the sword tip, leading to his defeat.
“Well, it’s a knife, after all.”
“Yes, it is.”
Fatiah was puzzled, “Am I just going to write a report about a knife? I don’t understand what my superior is thinking—” he asked the soldier to spar with him again.
The soldier, unable to assess Fatiah’s abilities in one go, agreed, “Alright, come on.”
Rayos, meanwhile, simply cheered for Fatiah.
The dream of making her a collaborator and part of his harem, due to being a legendary weapon, was for the night after training.
In his own room, in bed, when his body and mind were most vulnerable.
Rayos devised several romantic poems, the kind a bard might use, roundabout but clearly conveying love, tailored to Fatiah’s shifting emotions.
