Chapter 21 Bonds of Love ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Morning stirs in the Julon household.
On the bed, Etheline shifts, still worn from last night’s grief. The mattress feels firmer than she’s used to, and the warmth beside her draws her awake. Her eyes open to coarse fabric, not silk, carrying a scent that comforts her. She buries her face in it, rubbing against it, chasing the smell.
A soft breath breaks the quiet. Startled, she looks up—and finds a man’s face above her. Unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar. Recognition dawns.
”…Tatara?” she whispers, recalling the name of the guy who found her in the rain.
He called out to her, offered his hand. His voice—low, calm, but clear—made her heart skip every time he said her name. He’s not like her dad, a bit rough around the edges, but she likes his face. It’s her type, if she’s honest.
Etheline rests her hand on Tatara’s cheek as he sleeps. His sun-tanned skin contrasts sharply with her pale fingers, a difference that feels like it honors both their existences. It makes her smile, a quiet joy bubbling up. His sharp, slanted eyes, even closed, soften when he laughs or lets his guard down. His thin lips curve into a smile when he says her name. She’s only known him for a day, but she wants to know more. She leans closer.
”…Nnh? You awake, Etheline?” I mumble, stirring as her movement rouses me.
My gold eyes catch hers, my voice hoarse from sleep. I’m still groggy, nowhere near the composed guy from last night. Etheline, though, finds it kind of cute, like I’m a kid caught off guard.
I sit up, stretching my arms toward the ceiling. My collarbone peeks out from my shirt, and I catch Etheline’s breath hitching, her heart giving a quick thump.
”You doing okay now?” I ask, my head clearing as blood rushes back to my brain.
Etheline pauses, replaying my words. She thinks about last night—her breakdown, the raw grief. Strangely, right now, thinking of her parents doesn’t hurt as much. Her heart feels steady.
”Yeah, I’m okay for now,” she says softly.
I nod, knowing grief comes in waves. I don’t say it—I want to be there when it hits again, though I’m not sure I’m strong enough. For now, I tell her to wash her face while I prepare breakfast.
After she leaves, I slump against the wall. Waking up with a beautiful girl nearby tests my self-control. The shirt I gave her is thin—morning light reveals her curves and the way it rides up her thighs. If I weren’t me, I’d have collapsed.
A sweet, unfamiliar scent clings to the sheets—hers. It’s overpowering. I yank them off and toss them in the laundry before losing control.
By the time Etheline returns, breakfast is ready: toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and corn potage. I skip the onion soup—too raw for her wounds.
”Done washing up?” I call, tying on an apron and flashing a soft smile. “Grab a seat, let’s eat.”
My grin makes her heart skip. At school, other guys are loud and pushy, but I keep my distance, quiet, letting her decide. She sees me as calm and steady, though I’m just awkward.
For Etheline, I’m decent—offering shelter and food with no strings. She’s vulnerable: sheltered, weak physically, with limited Mana. One wrong step could’ve ruined her.
I think about her clothes—still in my shirt—and my dwindling sanity. If this keeps up, we might end up running a shop together. I’m a good Crafter, but fashion is a disaster. Making her clothes? No chance.
”I’ve got errands,” I say. “Mind watching the house?”
”Leaving?” her voice trembles.
I need underwear for her and to check with the City Mayor if I should keep caring for her. She lost her family in ‘Whirlwind’—maybe there’s a guardian. The Mayor probably dreads my call.
”It’s just to check if you can stay,” I say.
”Okay, I’ll wait,” she says softly.
I leave, heart aching but determined.
—
My house is far from the Mayor’s district—chosen by my parents to avoid trouble. It’s close to the academy and the Dungeon. The trip is usually three hours by fire lizard flight; I make it in an hour.
I pass through a crowded plaza and spot a chilling scene: a human corpse pinned with silver spears, mutilated. I cover my mouth, bile rising. Nearby, a naked Succubus’s corpse hangs crucified, surrounded by men violating her. Her face blurs into Ethel’s.
Nausea overwhelms me. I drop to my knees, vomiting violently. Tears stream as rage boils over. I pound my fists into the wall, shouting in frustration until a hand stops me.
It’s Calmys, head of the Mayor’s guard. She found me in the plaza, scolding me gently for being careless.
”Thanks, Calmys-san,” I say, catching my breath.
We go way back—she’s like an older sister who watches over me, partly to keep the Mayor from losing it over my inventions.
Calmys hands me a water pouch from her belt, nodding for me to rinse my mouth. I hadn’t noticed how foul my mouth felt until now. I gargle a few times, spitting out the water, and finally feel human again. Then I ask her about the plaza—what the hell was that?
”Before I answer,” she says, her voice measured, “do you know about the Baral family? A Demon Clan living in this city?”
”Yeah, I heard they’re rare—switched from the Dark Goddess to the War God, right?” I reply.
”Exactly. Some noble conducted an ‘inquisition’ on the Baral family,” she says.
”A noble?” I blink, confused. “Not the church’s knights or priests?”
”Yup,” she confirms.
”What the—!? What’s the War God’s church doing about it?” I snap. “The Barals are their followers, aren’t they?”
”Why’s that your concern?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
”It’s obvious!” I retort. “The War God’s church—your church—stands for fair battles and just causes. They wouldn’t let some noble or royal pull this kind of stunt! It’d shame the War God’s name!”
Calmys chuckles softly. “You’re amusing.”
”What’s so funny?” I demand.
”You don’t even follow the War God, yet you trust me enough to care,” she says, smirking.
I’m thrown off, stumbling over my words. “I mean, it’s just common sense! Gods watch over us without meddling directly. That’s worth respecting.”
She laughs again, a light, teasing sound. “Sure, sure.”
My view on religion, carried over from my past life, is rare here—a kind of nonbeliever’s respect that doesn’t quite fit. Calmys, being in the know, finds it amusing and keeps trying to recruit me to her War God’s sect. It never works, but apparently, the War God enjoys her efforts, despite his fierce reputation.
”The church will move soon,” she says confidently. “There’s no evidence to justify an inquisition on the Barals.”
”Will they find proof?” I ask, skeptical. “The guy’s a noble, right?”
”Hmph,” she scoffs. “Noble or not, if they cross the line, I’ll handle it.”
Her words carry weight, but I don’t know the half of it. To me, Calmys is just a cool, overworked woman dealing with her eccentric boss. I don’t realize her true standing in ‘Whirlwind.’ My past-life knowledge only pegs her as a guard knight, nothing more.
”More importantly,” she says, shifting gears, “what’s your business with my lord today? Another invention to drive him up the wall?”
”Well, I do want his opinion on the Arcane Gun’s mechanism,” I admit, “but today’s about something else entirely.”
”That gun’s gonna make him lose it again, isn’t it?” she groans.
”Hey, if you’re gonna complain, maybe I’ll design a weapon for you and make him lose it instead,” I tease.
”Pass,” she says flatly.
I laugh, thinking her boss doesn’t lose it *that* easily. But Calmus knows better. The Mayor plans to name me his successor for a reason. ‘Whirlwind’ has many key roles, and the Mayor isn’t just the top dog—she’s the Chief Crafter, the city’s best.
Mostly honorary, but for major projects, she leads. She wants to pass that to me. Calmus believes I can handle it. My “failed” creations are impossible for anyone else to replicate, except her boss, probably busy drafting patents over them. I’m clueless how much the city values me.
* * *
I’m led into a room to meet the City Mayor. Older and striking, with dark navy hair streaked white and a mole under her left eye, she commands authority dressed in elegant robes—the ultimate power in ‘Whirlwind.’
”Sorry for the sudden visit,” I say, bowing slightly. “It’s kind of urgent.”
”No need to apologize,” she replies smoothly. “So, what did you make this time?”
”No designs or specs today,” I say, surprising her.
”Oh?” she says, exhaling with a hint of relief.
My inventions—even my flops—tend to stress her out. When I was a kid, my research alone threw the city’s tech standards into chaos. New metals, Arcane Armor designs—stuff other Crafters can’t replicate. I’d show up with materials, say, “See, easy, right?” and accidentally crush the spirits of veteran Crafters. Some call me the “Natural Disaster Crafter” behind my back, and I’m oblivious to it.
”It’s about checking family ties in the city,” I explain.
”Looking for someone? Wouldn’t the registry office handle that?” she asks, tilting her head.
”It’s… complicated,” I say, lowering my voice. “Going through the registry might stir up trouble.”
”So, who’s this person you’re looking for?” the City Mayor asks, her tone gentle but prodding.
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. She’s used to me causing chaos as a Crafter without meaning to, but she sees my personal issues as straightforward. She’s not entirely wrong, but this is heavier.
”Her name’s Etheline Nel-Baral,” I say. “She recently lost her parents and her home.”
The reaction is instant. The City Mayor flicks a bell-shaped magical tool hidden in her sleeve, activating its effect. Calmys steps in front of the room’s only door, blocking it.
”The effect’s working,” the Mayor says, her voice now carrying the weight of ‘Whirlwind’s’ supreme authority. “Now, Tatara Julon, why are you asking about someone with that name?”
The air shifts, heavy with tension. Between the plaza’s horror and my talk with Calmys, I realize this is a deeper mess than I thought.
”No complicated stuff,” I say, keeping it simple. “I found her last night and took her in.”
”Don’t say it like you picked up a stray dog or cat…” the Mayor sighs, pressing a hand to her forehead.
”If she’s got family in ‘Whirlwind’ she can rely on, I’ll take her to them,” I continue. “If not, I’ll take responsibility for her life as the one who brought her in.”
”That’s a hell of a commitment!” the Mayor exclaims, her voice rising.
Calmys, standing nearby, shoots me a look, her eyes wide.
”It’s only natural,” I say firmly. “I wouldn’t have taken her in if I wasn’t ready to see it through.”
”Admirable resolve,” Calmys mutters, “but why does it sound like you’re talking about taking in a pet?”
She’s not entirely off. My mindset’s probably closer to that than I’d like to admit.
”By the way,” the Mayor says, leaning forward with a glint in her eye, “how was last night with Etheline-san?”
”My lord?” Calmys interjects, her tone sharp. “Is this necessary?”
”We bathed together, and I washed her hair and body,” I admit, scratching my neck.
”You what?!” Calmys snaps, her voice incredulous. “Mixed bathing on the first night? You’re moving too fast, Julon!”
”And? Any progress after that?” the Mayor presses, grinning like a nosy neighbor.
”My lord,” Calmys groans, “you sound like a gossiping busybody.”
”Well, we tried to eat afterward, but…” I trail off.
”You held it together? Impressive for a teenage boy,” Calmys says, nodding approvingly.
”Oh, come on!” the Mayor scoffs. “It’s right there for the taking! Go for it!”
”My lord, that’s the sleaziest mindset I’ve ever heard,” Calmys retorts.
”No, taking advantage of her grief would be wrong,” I say, my voice firm.
”What’s with you two?” Calmys mutters. “Your moral compasses are backward.”
”Listen,” the Mayor says, rolling her eyes, “across history, sex is the quickest way to heal a broken heart. Young bodies, let loose, and the rest sorts itself out.”
”That’s not how it works, my lord,” Calmys says, exasperated. “Your ideas are trash.”
”I can’t make a choice that’d lead to her regret,” I say, my voice steady. “I want Etheline to be happy.”
”Why’s the teenage boy the one thinking of her feelings?” Calmys grumbles. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
”Ugh, what a goody-two-shoes answer,” the Mayor sneers. “Makes me wanna puke.”
”I’m about to punch you, my lord,” Calmys warns, her patience thinning.
”I just… I can’t do that to a girl crying for her parents in my arms!” I shout, my voice cracking. “Not her!”
”My lord, take a page from this kid,” Calmys says, her tone softening. “Also, stop ignoring me. I’m about to cry.”
Our words clash, going nowhere. I’m fighting for Etheline, but the Mayor calls it escapism, throwing harsh truths at me. Deep down, she’s worried about my future. Calmys, silent through it all, gets my choice on principle but knows it’s a naive fantasy. Her gaze hardens, judging me quietly.
”Don’t go writing my feelings for me,” Calmys says, breaking her silence. “I’m mostly on Julon’s side, for the record.”
But I can’t back down. I heard Etheline’s voice, calling for her parents, and I swore to support her. I have to convince these adults—people who’ve probably been through the same loss—or I’ll fail her.
The Mayor’s feelings are tangled. She knows I care about Ethel, no doubt there. But I’m just a commoner, brilliant at Crafting but with no political backing. Against nobles scheming to claim Ethel, I’m powerless. My lack of religion doesn’t help. In a world where gods are real, a church’s support is a shield. If I followed the Machine God like most Crafters, I’d have some leverage in ‘Whirlwind.’ But I respect all gods without worshipping any, and that stance is biting me now.
”My lord,” Calmys says, addressing the Mayor’s troubled expression. “Is the issue here religious backing?”
The Mayor hesitates. Using her position to back me could upset ‘Whirlwind’s’ church dynamics, so she’d have to stop me from converting if that’s what I suggested.
”What’s that?” the Mayor asks.
”I have an idea for religious protection,” Calmys says.
”No converting for me, thanks,” I cut in, wary.
”Not that,” Calmys replies, shaking her head.
The Mayor, expecting the same, looks surprised.
”How fast can you make weapons, Julon?” Calmys asks.
”For something new, I’d need a month to six months, depending on the specs,” I say.
”Sorry, I meant existing weapons. How long for those?” she clarifies.
”Mass-produced ones?” I pause, thinking. “About an hour.”
”That’s… not normal,” Calmys says, frowning.
”It’s downright absurd,” the Mayor adds, incredulous.
If I’ve got the blueprint and materials, I can whip up a sword—iron, steel, whatever—in my workshop in under an hour. Doesn’t matter the design. It’s partly my past life’s game-like “one-tap crafting” instincts and my Magic Circle automating the process. If I go all out, it’s even faster.
”Then make me a weapon,” Calmys says.
”A weapon… oh, I get it,” I say, catching on.
The Mayor nods, understanding. In the War God’s church, weapons are sacred. A knight commissioning a weapon, even from someone outside the faith, grants the War God’s protection through the knight. It’s a guarantee of safety for both me and Etheline, who’s living with me. Even within the same sect, Calmys’s status as a chosen knight would make most hesitate to cross her. At least, anyone with sense would.
”I can make it,” I say, “but if you want Mithril or Orichalcum, you’re supplying the materials.”
”Who’s asking for that nonsense?” Calmys says, waving a hand. “Just make it with whatever material you think works.”
”Shape Memory Alloy, then?” I suggest.
”Wait, why that?” she asks, confused. “What about that reinforced stuff you call magic iron?”
”But your real weapon’s a whip or segmented sword, right?” I say.
”Huh?” she blinks, caught off guard.
For context, Calmys has never shown me anything but a sword. She’s trained me a few times, always with a longsword for mock battles.
”Why’d you think that?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
”When you trained me, your sword swings had this weird quirk sometimes,” I explain. “You’d snap your wrist like you were using a whip, especially when keeping your distance. It’s obvious.”
She stares at me, then laughs softly. “…You’re sharper than I thought.”
I’m right. Her real weapon, left at the War God’s main temple, is what she used before becoming the Mayor’s guard in ‘Whirlwind.’
Calmys hadn’t used that weapon type in decades since coming to this city, yet she never noticed her habits lingered. Once again, Tatara Julon, this kid, catches her off guard.
”So, Tatara,” the City Mayor says, leaning forward with a curious glint, “what kind of weapon would you make for her?”
”I’d craft the blade from Shape Memory Alloy,” I say. “I’ve been experimenting, and I found it can stretch with enough ductility. If I could extend the blade four times its length, it’d suit her style.”
”Hold on,” Calmys cuts in, her voice sharp.
”That’s it?” the Mayor asks, raising an eyebrow.
”What if you used its Mana-reactive properties to let the blade switch between multiple shapes?” I suggest.
”Oi, stop it, you idiot!” Calmys snaps.
”How about making it move entirely with Mana?” the Mayor adds, her eyes sparkling.
”My lord?” Calmys says, exasperated.
”But wouldn’t that sideline Calmys-san’s skills?” I point out.
”My head knight?” the Mayor scoffs, waving a hand. “She can handle that easily.”
”That’s a heavy vote of confidence,” Calmys mutters.
And so, leaving Calmys out of the loop, we dive into planning. This weapon, meant to be her sword, ends up using tech so cutting-edge it could be shaped in a day, with another day for fine-tuning with her. Calmys looks like she’s about to cry, overwhelmed by her reckless little brother figure.
”By the way,” I say, shifting gears, “I need to mention something.”
”What’s that?” the Mayor asks.
”Tonight, I’m going to retrieve Baral-shi’s Soul Core.”
Their faces change instantly.
”You dare desecrate the dead further?” Calmys growls, her voice low.
”No, the opposite,” I say firmly.
”Explain,” the Mayor demands.
I take a deep breath, recalling the plaza’s horrors. “Baral-shi’s body is pinned in the plaza. Biologically, he’s dead, but as a Demon Clan, he’s still alive. High-ranking Demon Clans don’t die unless their Soul Core is destroyed. Whoever did that to him either didn’t know about the Core or couldn’t touch it—it’s untouched.”
”Then I’ll purify it—” Calmys starts.
”No,” I interrupt, my voice steady. “I want to bring Etheline at least one keepsake from her parents.”
My eyes burn with resolve as I meet theirs. After a brief silence, the Mayor sighs.
”Fine,” she says, locking eyes with me. “I’ll create a thirty-minute gap in the patrols tonight. Get it done.”
She’s taking a risk, bending rules she shouldn’t. I feel the weight of her trust.
”Thank you,” I say, bowing deeply.
* * *
Later, I get teased for needing to buy women’s underwear for Etheline. The two women offer to help, but their wildly different body types make them useless, and they nearly kill me for pointing it out. At a recommended shop, the clerk ribs me, but I manage to buy what I need. Back home, Etheline tries to change in front of me, and I bolt out of there. It’s been a day.
That night, after tucking Etheline in, I slip out with one item in my Inventory and head to the plaza. There’s time before the scheduled gap, but I want to scope things out. When I arrive, there’s no real security—just one figure near the Baral couple’s bodies.
Long, wavy red hair, a rugged face with stubble, and scarred black Full Armor. A massive greatsword, nearly as tall as him, rests on his back. I know him.
”Hey, kid,” he calls out, his voice gruff. “What’re you doing out this late?”
”Uncle…” I say, recognizing Logas, my parents’ old Explorer comrade.
He studies me, then nods. “So that’s what the City Mayor’s orders meant, huh?”
”Yeah,” I confirm. “I’m here to lay the Barals to rest.”
”You up for it?” he asks, his tone heavy.
”Yep. I’ll make sure nothing’s left—not even ash.”
”Don’t burn the plaza down, though,” he says, half-joking.
I take it as a jest, but Logas is dead serious. My parents told me about his abilities, but I thought they were half-kidding. Turns out, they barely scratched the surface. If I say I’ll burn it to nothing, the whole plaza could turn to cinders.
”I’ve gotta patrol the town,” Logas says. “I’m leaving this to you, kid.”
”Got it,” I reply.
”And… the Barals were my comrades, too,” he adds, his voice low. “Make sure they reach the same place as the others, no hesitation.”
”Absolutely,” I say, my voice firm.
Logas nods, satisfied, and walks off. It’s earlier than planned, giving me extra time. I head toward the Baral couple, starting with the wife. Her body’s marred by the filth of countless men. I pull a clean cloth from my Inventory, wiping her down as best I can. Then I drape a cloth soaked in a special liquid over her head and clasp my hands in prayer.
Next, I move to Baral-shi. One by one, I carefully remove the spears piercing him, laying him gently on the ground. I turn him face-up, using Appraisal to locate his Soul Core in his chest. I pull out a knife, ready to cut.
”What are you doing?” a voice demands, sharp and sudden.
I jolt, looking up. A man stands there, refined in appearance. Snow-white hair, crimson eyes, and a sharp gaze. Pale, almost translucent skin over a lean, muscular frame. Twisted horns curl from his head, and massive bat-like wings, matching his hair, sprout from his back.
He speaks again, his voice cold. “Let me rephrase, child. What are you doing to my body?”
Baral, who should be dead, stands before me. Completely naked.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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