Chapter 23 Bonds of Love ④
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The next morning, I woke to a blur of skin pressed against mine. A soft, floral sweetness floated into my nose, tempting me to drift back into sleep. But curiosity outweighed desire, and I lifted my head.
There she was—Ethelena, a masterpiece of beauty laid out before me. Her eyes were hidden, yet the length of her lashes and the faint glimpse of white teeth through parted lips held me captive. My gaze first landed on her chest, the one embracing me so completely. I wanted to bury my face there again, to inhale deeply. My mind whispered that perhaps, just this once, it would be permissible to let desire take over.
Two visions crystallized in my thoughts. One, an angel hovering above, halo shining, white wings poised. The other, a demon, horns crowning its head, black wings spread wide.
[Devil: Come on, man—if you hold back here, your manhood’s gone. Worst-case, she dies and becomes a mummy, but come on… she’s perfect for this to be your first and last.]
The demon urged temptation, signaling inevitable consequences.
[Angel: Stop. Your actions could hurt her, and your death would plunge her into deeper despair.]
The angel pleaded restraint, highlighting the path of ruin. No matter the choice, death waited. Was I trapped?
Then, from somewhere mechanical and eerily precise, a third version of me appeared, matter-of-fact:
[Robot-Tatara: If death’s guaranteed, why not just do nothing?]
His bluntness swung the internal vote toward restraint. I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. The soft contact of her skin against mine made Ethelena shiver, her chest rising and falling in a tantalizing rhythm. For a moment, the angel and robot were knocked aside by the demon—but together, they landed a perfect cross-bomb on temptation, pinning it to the floor. Reason had won.
”Mm… Tatara?”
Ethelena stirred, a tiny voice of wonder. I smiled at the victory in my own mind, reaching to greet her, but she pressed her cheek to mine like a kitten, soft and insistent. Her skin brushed against mine, melting even the finest linen under my touch.
In my mind, the demon still struggled, lifting angel and robot by the collar—but it was powerless. My reason threatened to dissolve. My hands itched to explore, to touch, to cross boundaries I knew I shouldn’t. Then—a sharp burst from my inventory struck me back into control.
Baral appeared, masked and resolute, striking decisively. The demon collapsed; her father’s wrath had triumphed.
Returning to reality, I corrected my posture, resting my right hand gently on the back of Ethelena’s head and my left on her back. The touch was enough for her to awaken fully, a flush of shame coloring her cheeks. Baral-sama’s presence had saved us from a fate neither of us wanted. If I hadn’t held back, Ethelena’s life would have shifted irrevocably—her youth and school lost to a future we might not have chosen.
”Good morning, Ethelena.”
”G-Good morning, Tatara… I’m going to wash my face!”
She bolted, skirts lifting slightly to reveal a hint of undergarments—a vivid, innocent allure. Watching her go, I rose as well, reaching for a notebook from my inventory: Baral family recipes I’d taken last night. Two jumped out at me: scrambled eggs and onion soup. The exact ingredients might elude me, but knowing the seasoning could bring me close. Mostly, I wanted to comfort her, even in small ways.
”Sorry to keep you waiting, Tatara.”
Ethelena entered the living room, catching the scent of breakfast with an eager smile. I returned her grin, soft as moonlight—the one she loved—and just seeing it reassured me she’d be okay today.
”Take a seat, Ethelena. Today’s breakfast is… my little masterpiece.”
On the plate lay scrambled eggs, crisp lettuce salad, and a cup of onion soup. Her favorites, reminiscent of the breakfasts her mother used to make. A pang of sadness hit me, but she lifted the spoon with a determined “itadakimasu.” The buttery eggs melted on her tongue, perfectly seasoned, soft in the middle, tender and rich. The soup’s sweetness wasn’t fully drawn out yet, but the carrot and seasoning balance mirrored her mother’s hand precisely. Tears streamed down her cheeks, yet she ate steadily. I sipped the soup, finally understanding why she disliked instant versions—there was no depth, no soul.
”Tatara… this…”
She finished, eyes glistening, and I placed multiple notebooks on the table.
”I went to your house last night. Gathered some recipe notes… your parents’ journals. Will you accept them?”
Ethelena reached tentatively, leafing through the pages as tears flowed freely.
”Mom’s handwriting…”
She traced the paper with her fingers, murmuring softly. Watching her, I felt the risk had been worth it. Time passed as she absorbed the memories, then she closed the notebook, eyes meeting mine steadily.
”Thank you, Tatara. I’ve received both my parents’ notes. What can I give you in return?”
Her speech had shifted slightly, shedding a bit of her childish lilt.
”There’s nothing I want from you.”
”That is…”
”Just live fully, carrying them with you. Nothing else matters.”
”…I understand.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but I could sense her mind returning to its true form, clarity restored by the notebooks. She understood my glance, the fleeting desire from earlier, and yet I didn’t act on it. Even when my hands had moved toward her, something instinctively held me back. If she’d accepted, her spirit might have fixed in a half-childlike, half-doll-like state. But as it was, she was herself.
And quietly, undeniably, Ethelena Nelara Baral had fallen in love with me, Tatara Julon.
I slid my eyes over Ethelena, feeling a mix of determination and vulnerability radiating off her. Somehow, I already trusted that she wouldn’t betray that trust, not in the ways that mattered. Even if she were tempted, she wouldn’t hand herself over to the nobles who had taken her parents from her. At worst, she might reject or resent the notion of physical attention, but even that wasn’t likely at this stage.
”So, there’s something I want to ask,” I said, drawing her gaze. She looked up at me, wary, yet calm. To her, I was someone who gave rather than took, and my question made her pause—aware that my curiosity carried weight.
”What will you do about school, Ethelena?”
The question hung, vague yet pressing. Her parents were gone; the taxes they paid no longer vanished into the city coffers on her behalf. Middle school-level tuition still fell under that realm, but higher education would require her to pay out of pocket. She had never worked before, never even carried a pack into a dungeon under her father’s supervision. Part-time work arranged by the academy would be socially impossible; her trauma made her recoil from interacting with men, save for me. Her current status meant she could barely defend herself.
”So… I guess I’d like to keep attending, if possible,” she said softly.
”Good. Which course?”
”Explorer.”
I nodded, turning over numbers and calculations in my head. Tuition wasn’t an issue—I had inherited wealth, ran a decent shop, and could easily handle her schooling. The mayor had even exempted me from high-school-level tuition long ago. Covering Ethelena was trivial in comparison—but a straight loan might burden her psychologically.
”There’s a condition,” I said.
”A condition?”
”Repay it over five years, during your education.”
”Five years?”
”Yes. Cash or goods, whatever you can manage.”
”And if I can’t?”
”Then you quit Explorer and work in my shop. I’ll deduct it from your wages.”
”…That’s… okay?”
”Yes. That’s fine.”
For Ethelena, it was a lifeline. Tuition for two years totaled about five million, yet with her potential as an Explorer—venturing down twenty dungeon layers—she could repay in under a year. Even without success, she’d have a place at my shop.
”Ah… a place to live?”
”This house. Student rent, twenty thousand per month.”
”Really?”
”Yes. Add it to the repayment, and we’re squared.”
She blinked at my sly grin. I feigned villainy, but it was kindness in disguise—and she accepted it, recognizing the intention.
”Alright, let’s make it official.”
”Then we’ll draw up the papers later.”
Seeing the brief relief flicker across my face, she wondered why I was helping so much. If she had asked, I would’ve said it was responsibility—reaching out, intervening, shaping a life. It could have been any child; I wouldn’t hesitate. She was lucky I didn’t make her confront that thought.
”So… about being an Explorer,” I said.
”Oh… yes.”
”Your style—how do you fight?”
”Style?”
”Yes, style.”
I had been thinking about her equipment: the Baral Soul Core, Mithril imbued with her parents’ mana—whether it went into weapon or armor depended on her combat style.
”…Is that important?”
”Of course.”
”…I see.”
She considered, piecing together what I meant. My body may scream warrior, but my hands reveal crafter—thus, what I asked was about equipment, not ego. She nodded slowly, understanding the necessity.
”I… it’s a bit embarrassing, but…”
”Oh? Go on.”
Blushing, she inhaled sharply before spilling her measurements: “Height 157 cm, weight 54 kg… underbust 70, D cup—”
”Wait, wait, wait!?”
I groaned internally. I wanted her combat style, not her… personal stats. Adolescence in full swing. I didn’t yet realize her growth would owe itself to my hands, but that was for later.
”Combat style, Ethelena. You’re an Explorer, yes? Scout, melee, magic—what’s your specialty?”
”…I don’t know.”
She froze. Her father’s ban on dungeon entry had left her untrained and unsure.
”Meaning… you don’t know what weapon suits you best, based on stats or disposition?”
”…Yes…”
I nodded, crouching slightly to meet her eyes.
”Then we’ll find out together.”
”Eh?”
I led her to the yard, to the training corner, where I laid out the basic weapons. She didn’t yet understand my reasoning, but she grasped that this was essential for her growth as an Explorer.
”Since we don’t know your stats, you’ll have to test each weapon. How you use your body determines compatibility.”
”…Okay.”
She tentatively picked up the first sword.
”First… sword… it’s heavy.”
”Ah, that’s for one hand, not two.”
My mental note: Knife only?
For the next several minutes, Ethelena struggled, hands and knees on the ground, gasping.
”No… seriously…”
”T-Tatara! Did I get my style right!?”
”Honestly… I don’t think Explorer works for you yet.”
”Wh-what…?”
Her face fell, despair settling in, but determination still lingered beneath it.
As expected, Ethelena’s low Physical Attack stat translated into minimal strength—she could only handle four types of weapons: knives, bows, staves, and the Arcane Gun. Knives weren’t sufficient for either stabbing or slashing. Pulling a bow was impossible; her chest got in the way, and crossbows were far too heavy. Her Magic Attack was too weak to wield a staff effectively, even for low-level spells. The Arcane Gun she could grip, but firing a physical round sent her sprawling backward from the recoil. At this point, even I remembered Calmus’ blunt words: he’d said I was luckier than her, despite my own shortcomings.
”Julon, close combat’s out for her. Magic’s out. Guns too. Best have her defend the house,” Calmus had said.
I froze, realizing the voice came from somewhere near. Turning, I found Calmus herself—looking exasperated, dressed casually, yet radiating authority.
”C-Calmus-san!?”
”I heard voices from the garden and didn’t want to intrude, but I had to check in.”
Ethelena instinctively hid behind me, and I saw Calmus’ eyes soften. The urgency of the situation demanded quick action.
”The weapon I requested will be needed immediately.”
”…Understood. Let’s head to the workshop. Ethelena, he’s safe—come with us.”
In the workshop, I laid out materials on the table and began explaining.
”First, the weapon type: a magical katana.”
”Understood, based on my master’s prior instructions.”
”The blade will be formed from Shape Memory Alloy,” I continued.
”I know that too.”
”It will transform into three forms with your mana, Calmus-san.”
”That part I don’t understand.”
I detailed: a standard one-handed sword, a whip-like extension while maintaining blade integrity, and a dispersal form into countless steel threads.
Calmus listened carefully, occasionally nodding, occasionally frowning at the complexity. I explained the handle would be crafted from pseudo-Orichalcum to efficiently link weapon and wielder, with hair and a small sample of blood as catalysts.
”Alright. And the activation words?”
”[Draw][Deploy][Release]. Also includes thought-based form changes. Ensures smooth mana flow even in steel-thread form.”
Calmus grimaced but agreed.
We discussed adjustments and timing; I confirmed today we’d build the prototype, with final fine-tuning later.
Meanwhile, Ethelena’s eyes spun from the rapid technical exchange.
I activated the Special Ability workbench. Mana circles flared, floating materials rearranging: the Shape Memory Alloy blade, the Mana Stone powering internal mechanisms, and the pseudo-Orichalcum handle. Calmus’ hair and blood integrated seamlessly. Normally alchemy, now handled by this one device I had designed.
”Calmus-san, one more favor,” I said without looking away from the workbench.
”What now?”
”While I focus here, train Ethelena in weapon handling.”
Calmus hesitated. “She has almost no talent for this, you know?”
”I’m aware,” Ethelena muttered, cheeks reddening.
She chose the gun. The Arcane Gun’s recoil and mana cost were unlike any other weapon, yet her stamina and mana capacity suggested potential.
”All right. We’ll use the prototype from over there, Ethelena. Calmus-san, teach her proper fundamentals.”
”Yes, Tatara.”
I poured full focus into the workbench. The alloy blade shaped itself, extended to four times its original length, and incorporated a steel-thread mode at 0.05mm for precision and mana flow. The handle received activation protocols and mana control functions, linking all seamlessly.
Two hours later, Calmus’ katana prototype was ready. Another hour of sharpening brought it near completion. Sweat on my brow, I carried it to the testing yard.
Ethelena was still grappling with the Arcane Gun—mud-stained, teeth clenched—but no longer collapsing with each shot.
”Ready,” I said.
”Already? You built it this fast?”
”Prototype only; final tuning will be up to Calmus-san.”
”…Insane speed.”
”Just a clever application of existing tech,” I shrugged.
Calmus shook her head but said nothing more, and I turned back to the workbench, already envisioning the next step.
Calmus’ disbelief hung in the air, but I ignored it. I had a strange conviction that once my master saw this sword, he’d go berserk and patent it immediately.
”Here you go. Try it out,” I said, pushing the katana toward him.
”Understood. What’s the name?”
”Not yet. Please choose something fitting.”
”Me?”
”Yes—this is your partner in the city. Who else would name it?”
”Well… you could,” she muttered.
”Nope. You’d ruin it.”
”Hmm… then… ‘Fiero,’ perhaps?”
”Then it’s settled—’Fiero.’”
”Ha!?”
”What, some weird meaning?”
”…It means ‘pride’ in the old tongue.”
Calmus smiled, lifting Fiero with approval.
”A fine name. Truly befitting a knight’s blade.”
”Ah… embarrassing,” I muttered.
”You saw its meaning as pride for a knight, right? Good mindset.”
”Please, stop…”
Ignoring my shoulders slumping, Calmus tested the grip, tying the hilt cord for optimal handling in combat.
”Alright… time for a function test.”
”Understood. Begin with [Deploy].”
”[Deploy]!”
Fiero’s blade flexed and extended. Calmus noted the weight had shifted with the length, though the volume seemed unchanged.
”Test its handling,” I instructed.
”Hmm… huh!”
With a short exhale, he swung Fiero. The katana danced through the air, slicing, piercing, and binding—his skill sharp despite decades without practice.
”…A fine sword. Shame my own arms are dull,” she muttered.
”That was dull?” I asked incredulously.
”At my peak, I’d have destroyed the target in a blink, leaving no trace.”
”…A monster,” I whispered.
Next, the dispersal mode test: “[Release].”
”Terrifying name… [Release]!”
The extended blade vanished—or rather, became nearly invisible steel threads.
”The blade is invisible, yet I can sense it through the hilt,” Calmus noted.
”I can’t perform full techniques, but thought-control slicing covers a wide area.”
The sheer power stirred a strange thrill in me.
”Try the thought-control now.”
”Hmm… hnn!”
Calmus thrust Fiero forward, closed her eyes, and focused. Instantly, the air filled with whistling steel. Sunlight glinted off the threads, but the space was shredded as if a hundred wind demons had swept through.
”…[Draw]”
Suddenly, she returned Fiero to standard form, dropping to a knee.
”C-Calmus-san! Are you okay?”
”Yes… dispersal mode drains immense focus and mana.”
Even a mana powerhouse like Calmus felt the strain. In battle, dispersal would last at most ten seconds.
”Mana consumption checked.”
”This is better,” she replied, ignoring my concern.
”Why?”
”Reliance dulls skill. This way, I must remain sharp.”
”…Understood.”
”Next, free switching between forms?”
”Yes, please.”
Calmus grinned, like a child with a new toy, spinning Fiero and testing combinations. Soon, to our eyes, her movements looked natural, fluid. The final display resembled a dance, and he faced me.
”I’m pleased. You’ve exceeded the request,” she said.
”I’m glad it pleases you,” I replied.
Calmus straightened, her aura shifting—a saintly presence, a knight consecrated by the War God’s Church.
”By the authority of Calmus, knight in service to the War God, I declare Tatara Julon and Etheline Nelara Baral under the Church’s protection.”
A saint, granted eternal life and immense power. In the War God’s Church, knights, saints, and heroes share the same title regardless of gender. This pronouncement carried immense authority; violators were deemed heretics.
”Thank you, Calmus-dono,” I said.
”It is a reward for a fine weapon. No thanks necessary.”
I bowed deeply, receiving a gentle pat on the shoulder as he departed.
”Your duty is to protect Ethelena-jou. Be diligent, Julon!”
”Yes! Thank you!”
”Yes, thank you!” Ethelena echoed, following my example. The religious and political backing now made it difficult for anyone to target her.
”…An incredible person,” she whispered.
”Well, one of the strongest in the city,” I replied.
”…I see…”
She had just witnessed my crafting process—relentless, precise, and fast. Seeing me operate at this level, even a seasoned knight like Calmus would struggle.
”Now, shall we move on?”
”Move on?”
”Yes… Ethelena.”
I faced her, locking eyes, heart racing.
”I need to Appraise your stats.”
”Eh… okay. Sure.”
”Thanks.”
I activated Appraisal. The screen lit up with figures, and I froze slightly at the results:
Level 1/50
Endurance 45
Mana 151
Skill Power 25
Physical Attack 5
Physical Defense 5
Magic Attack 8
Magic Defense 12
Speed 20
Luck 40
Movement 4
Too low. Mana was strangely high, but Magic Attack was far below what her mana would suggest. Her Physical Attack confirmed weak base strength; Defense was low, Speed misaligned. A Succubus could easily double that Speed. She was a hybrid of Succubus and Demon Clan, but seemingly inherited none of their strengths—just high mana.
”…Understood. The weapon we’ll craft.”
She may improve with levels, but I couldn’t give her a one-hit-kill weapon. Two strikes per enemy would suffice. I’d channel mana directly into projectiles, a rare Arcane Gun design—but it existed, and it would work for her.
I decided the weapon had to be a keepsake for Ethelena, something tied to her and her parents.
”Ethelena, can I see your hand for a moment?” I asked.
”Ah… okay…”
She hesitated, then extended her hand. I held it carefully, studying its size, finger length, and the flexibility of her wrist. She stiffened, but watching me so seriously, she couldn’t help but admire how focused and composed I looked. Her own awareness of the examination faded into the background.
”Thanks, Ethelena. This will let me craft it properly.”
”Uh… yeah…”
”And… sorry, but I need a bit of your hair and some blood.”
”Ah… okay…”
She offered them without hesitation, though a shiver of apprehension ran through her. Memories of Calmus’ overwhelming sword came to mind, reminding her that Tatara was about to create something extraordinary.
Back in the workshop, she trailed behind me, hesitant but curious. I placed materials on a more complex workbench: Mithril imbued with her parents’ mana, and her hair and blood. The mana radiating from the Mithril made her eyes widen.
I activated another device, placing the Baral Soul Core in the center. Magic Circles expanded and rotated, forming a perfect sphere. By manipulating them with Alchemy, the Soul Core shrank into a small orb, compressing and amplifying its mana. Purple flames danced within the white core, forming the heart of the weapon.
Next, I formed the frame. Splitting the Mithril into pieces, I began shaping it for an Arcane Gun—simpler than usual, yet reinforced for easy maintenance.
Its function was straightforward: the Soul Core in the grip, powered by Ethelena’s mana, would form bullets of compressed, high-power mana. Only she could wield it safely for now, a built-in safety. Spiral Magic Circles inside the barrel compressed and accelerated the projectiles, enhancing penetration. The barrel’s cover increased air contact for cooling. Its exterior resembled a handgun, but lacked a slide or ejection mechanism, allowing a grip tailored to her small hands. Soul Core embedded in the handle, reinforced with spiritual wood from a friend, completed the design.
The result: a silvery Arcane Gun, built specifically for Ethelena.
”Phew… done.”
Using all the knowledge I had in this life and from the previous world, I created a brand-new Arcane Gun. Built with the only materials a parent could provide to their sole daughter—it was one of a kind.
”You are… ‘Lonisera.’”
The name came naturally. Lonisera, the honeysuckle. Its meaning: bond of love.
A weapon embodying the love and bonds of her parents. A perfect gift for Ethelena. She needn’t understand the name; the love imbued in it was enough. I placed Lonisera gently beside her as she slept.
After a final stretch and yawn, I leaned against the workbench and finally allowed myself to sleep.
Beside me, Ethelena rested face down. She had awakened slightly when I named the weapon, heart racing but unable to move. Her face flushed, too embarrassed to look up.
”Bond of love,” I had said.
She didn’t know why I chose the name, but its significance would linger in her heart forever.
She quietly wished that this would be the bond that tied the two of them together.
—
Past Arc, Chapter Four. Finally finished… Third-person doesn’t suit this. With that, the Lonisera segment ends, and we return to the present timeline.
—
Tatara Julon → forge steel + “Julon” (French: blacksmith)
Etheline Nelara Baral → Ethelena Nel (French: eternal)
Salvia Baral → Salvia (flower)
Calmus → iris
Rogas → lotus + asparagus
Naming these characters is harder than it looks…
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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