Volume 3 Chapter 153 Linca Training!
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Leaving behind the ancient temple, Kian and Linca followed a narrow, muddy trail winding through the mountain woods. Their boots sank into the wet earth with each step, silence settling between them like mist.
After some distance, they came upon a clearing littered with fallen trees—gnarled, broken trunks stretching across the path like the remnants of an old battlefield.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest had grown dim. A faint chill hung in the air, and the area now buzzed with a threatening presence: a gathering of Lower-rank Bloodsucking Kind.
At the center stood a massive Wing Cain, surrounded by ten Shield Cains that formed a protective formation. The large creature fixed its menacing gaze on the intruders—Kian and Linca—its wings twitching in tension.
Kian stepped forward without hesitation, his eyes steady. Linca followed silently behind.
When he reached the Wing Cain, he extended the letter he held.
”This is for Lord Owl. Deliver it immediately.”
The Wing Cain let out a strange, guttural cry. Whether it was a sign of acknowledgment or confusion was unclear. Upon closer inspection, Kian noticed a wooden plate hanging from the creature’s neck. An arrow-shaped mechanism pointed toward a section marked “Out.” The board was divided into several labeled areas: “Castle,” “Gem Guild,” “City Street,” and one unfamiliar word—”Maribel.”
(“Maribel? Did this come from their time in Izerland…?”)
The Wing Cain shrieked once more and extended its back leg, as if indicating that the letter should be tied there.
”Sir Kian, please use this.”
From her sleeve, Linca produced a dark blue string, its surface catching a faint shimmer. A soft, pleasant fragrance drifted from it—perhaps incense.
Kian frowned.
”I can’t use something this fine. I’ll find some grass and make a rope.”
”That won’t do. This letter is for Lord Ramsey’s castle representative. It needs to be sent with care. Don’t worry about the string—I’ve got more. If we pass through Izerland or Châtillon, I can restock easily.”
”…If you insist. Just let me know when you buy more. I’ll pay for it as an expense.”
”You’re so particular about this, Sir Kian.”
”Is that a problem?”
”No. It’s better to be mindful about money.”
Kian tied the letter to the Wing Cain’s leg. The string was surprisingly tough, unlikely to break even across long distances. The creature shifted its weight and moved the arrow on a different plate, half-buried beneath a fallen tree. It now pointed to the message: Will return by the time the day changes. The phrase “Will return” was carved into the wood, while the latter part was replaceable.
”A useful little system,” Kian mused.
If he ever ended up constantly away like Owl, perhaps he’d use something similar.
(Not that I’ll ever gain that kind of fame. I’d rather live a slow life.)
”‘By the time the day changes,’ huh…” Linca murmured, watching as the Wing Cain spread its wings and took off into the night.
* * *
”There’s still four hours left,” Kian said softly. “We could head back and return again, but coming and going too often might disturb the watch girls.”
”You don’t have to worry about that.”
”I swing my sword out here because I can’t focus at the temple. The corridors are narrow, and when the watch girls are around, I get distracted. This is a rare chance to really train.”
”I see. Then I’ll stay too.”
”You don’t have to.”
”If I go home, I’ll just be alone. That’s boring. I wanted to train anyway, so this works out. …Sand-blowing Tanuki.”
With a gentle clap of her hands, the space beside Linca shimmered. A small spirit appeared from the air, standing upright on two legs like a miniature yokai beast. It wore a straw hat woven from grass and held a pottery jar filled with sand in its fuzzy black paws.
”Please level the ground here,” Linca requested.
The shikigami let out a soft “Kyuu” and began flapping its stubby front limbs. Despite its tiny hands, it scattered sand with surprising volume, quickly covering and flattening the muddy terrain beneath them.
”It walks like a dog, but on two legs. Is it a Beastman?”
”No, it’s a completely different kind of being. Sir Kian, why don’t you warm up over there? I’ll observe the Shield Cain until the Tanuki is done leveling.”
From her sleeve, Linca produced a small notebook and brush.
Her outfit had changed since leaving the ancient temple. Now she wore a black eastern-style combat dress with a white haori layered over it. The wide sleeves seemed to contain far more than expected—perhaps she too, like Kian, had a familiar inside, storing her belongings within its body.
”What’s that notebook?”
”My handmade monster encyclopedia.”
”It says Volume 21. So you’ve made twenty others before this?”
”Yes. Back when I worked under Sir Jibril, I was tasked with adjusting the monster troops. While doing that, I documented the ecology of wild monsters. Over time, the records just piled up.”
She summoned a faint will-o’-the-wisp for light and crouched beside one of the Shield Cains still standing by. Touching its clawed limbs shaped like shields, she began her inspection using a spell—Penetration.
”You’re really thorough,” Kian remarked.
”If I’m going to live as an Adventurer with you and the others, this kind of knowledge is necessary. Whether you want to keep monsters alive or take them down, you need information.”
Using Penetration made her effectively untouchable by physical means, so there was little danger—but her dedication seemed less about safety and more about precision.
Until recently, Kian had thought of Linca as laid-back and half-hearted. But that image was slowly beginning to crack.
(Still… she’s not so different from Sarah.)
’If you leave her alone, she drifts toward her own comforts. It’s best to keep her sharp—with praise, occasional pressure, and tasks that are just difficult enough.’
”Sir Kian? You’re making a strange face,” Linca said, peering up at him.
”This is my normal face.”
”Please stop looking so serious all the time.”
Kian smiled faintly.
”Well then, I’ll go start my stretches.”
* * *
From within the swirling white mist that reeked of iron, invisible projectiles rained down without pause. Kian drew the Windsong Blade in response, slicing apart the air with blasts of wind pressure to fend off the small stones enhanced by ‘Blast’-type energy. But aside from those, the rest had to be dodged or parried on his own.
Dancing through a storm of over twenty long-range strikes, Kian deflected what he could and endured several others, his body taking the punishment. One particularly powerful hit struck his shoulder with a sharp crack—too strong for a basic technique to stop. Blood and bits of torn flesh scattered into the fog.
Grinding his teeth against the pain, Kian countered with a mid-range slash from the Windsong Blade, aiming for the silhouette of a female warrior monk that shimmered like a ghost within the mist.
The wind blade struck true, cutting cleanly through the woman’s black eastern-style robe—only to pass right through her chest and vanish into the void beyond.
”Damn it…!”
He lunged forward.
With a powerful step, he swung his right arm—the Misty Magic Sword aimed to end the fight.
But the moment Kian moved, she slipped away with uncanny ease, vanishing into the mist behind her. A second later, thin needle-like energy strikes burst forth, closing in from every angle.
”Guhh—!”
It was faster than before.
The woman soared into the air, and with a flick of her fist, sent another wave of attacks crashing down on the defenseless swordsman.
Kian’s body hit the soft ground with a ragged thud, the sounds he made—”ugh”—barely recognizable.
Then, as if to seal his defeat, invisible threads shot out, wrapping around the magic swords in his hands and yanking them away into the mist.
At that moment, Kian’s presence nearly vanished.
”…Guh…”
”Sir Kian, are you alright?”
Linca emerged through the mist, her long black hair flowing behind her. She crouched down beside him, the hem of her short eastern skirt brushing against her thighs.
”I… I’m fine.”
”I’ll start healing you now.”
Her slender fingers glowed faintly with ‘Penetration’ magic. As they sank gently into his torn skin, warmth spread across the damaged area. The bleeding stopped at once.
It was a wound that would have been fatal for an ordinary man, but Kian’s regenerative ability kicked in, knitting flesh back together in seconds.
”…Thanks.”
”You’re welcome.”
”But I couldn’t even bring down one of them—not even with the magic sword.”
He pulled himself upright, the bitter taste of defeat settling in. He had felt this before.
Even though he’d won in actual combat—twice—his confidence now lay in pieces.
Slumped shoulders. Heavy breath.
”I’m amazed you’re still feeling down. Sir Kian is the very warrior who was thoroughly defeated by me.”
Linca’s smile was gentle. She offered him a water flask.
He accepted it with a small nod, rinsing the taste of blood and earth from his mouth.
”…Thanks again.”
”Here’s your sword.”
”Ah. Sorry.”
She handed back the Misty Magic Sword. Normally, glimpses of her fair thighs and the subtle curves of her waist would stir something within him. But right now, he felt nothing.
”This feels worse than when I sparred with Sarah…”
”I don’t think so.”
”It’s not that I’m scared. I just… realized it calmly. No emotion, just fact.”
If Linca used ‘Penetration,’ there was no way to defend. Kian’s only choice would be to close the distance and strike with the Misty Magic Sword. But she could easily keep her distance, launching attacks while slipping through the fog. Her ability to detect magical presence was sharp—she wouldn’t fall for any tricks.
Even if he tried the Secret Technique, ‘Pursuit of the Shadow,’ she’d simply evade. It was hopeless.
”…Sorry. Didn’t mean to show you such a sorry sight.”
”Please don’t apologize! You’ve challenged me twenty times already, despite taking that much damage. I’m honestly impressed.”
”I didn’t even land a hit.”
”Your intentions were clear. I understand the range of the Misty Magic Sword now. The result was inevitable.”
That didn’t make it easier to accept.
Still, Kian let out a long breath and sat down cross-legged on the damp ground.
”How’s your body holding up? Any oddities with its function?”
”None. In fact, it’s incredible.”
Linca curled her gloved fingers into fists.
”My strength and jump height are the same, but the regeneration… it’s something else. Even against foes immune to ‘Penetration,’ this body can take it.”
”That’s good to hear.”
”The pain’s faded now. I’m ready for another round.”
Kian stood again.
He couldn’t wallow in defeat.
If he wanted to stand against monks like Shura, he needed to develop real countermeasures. Otherwise, he’d just fall again. If he didn’t adapt, sharpen his senses, and carry the weight of the party on his back, what kind of warrior would he be?
He didn’t have Sarah’s speed—but his strikes carried weight. His fighting style depended on delayed attacks, movement feints, and drawing his enemy into predictable actions. That should be enough.
It had to be enough.
Just as he focused, Linca’s voice broke through, slightly uncertain.
”Sir Kian, I’ll fight at close range this time.”
”…What? You won’t use hit-and-run tactics?”
”Yes.”
Her voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but excitement.
Her black eyes shone like polished obsidian, and her crimson lips curled into a smile.
She looked like a predator ready to feast.
”Please use the Misty Magic Sword. If you have any techniques like breaking the terrain, bring out the Windsong Blade too.”
”…You realize the Misty Sword can take limbs off, right?”
”I understand. As long as you avoid the head, heart, or spine, I can regenerate everything else.”
Kian hesitated, then nodded.
He wasn’t sure what she was thinking—but this challenge deserved to be met.
As a swordsman, he could not walk away from such a call.
”Alright. Let’s begin… round twenty-one.”
* * *
When fighting near the Misty Magic Sword, Linca had to end it in just one or two moves. Against a weapon like that, simply reinforcing her fists with Impact wouldn’t be enough—one wrong step, and the blade would slice clean through her guard.
That’s why, in this twenty-first match, both of them started out at a ten-meter distance, each waiting for the right moment to leap in and strike.
”────”
”────”
Linca lowered her center of gravity. Her right hand stretched forward, while her left was raised near her ear in a sharp, focused stance. It was a clear shift from their last serious battle. Back then, she had formed claw-like shapes with her index and middle fingers, keeping her hands low at her waist.
(Before, she used a reactive style—baiting attacks, then targeting blood vessels and nerves with surgical precision. But this new form was the opposite. She was hunting now—ready to drive her hand straight through the heart or skull.)
Holding her hand high near the ear, rather than low, gave her more reach. A deliberate choice.
She wasn’t wielding a blade, yet the posture echoed that of Shakerdoust’s Great Sword—a brutal weapon made to slay beastkin in a single, overwhelming swing.
(Could this be a variation of the Impact style? If so, it made sense. The same strategy had worked when she faced Abbas Shakerdoust in that memory world.)
Kian assumed the Shot stance, carefully closing the distance while circling her. His steps were light, almost playful, weaving in erratic motions. The Misty Magic Sword danced in his grip, creating shifting patterns like a stalking leopard. The movement blurred her sense of range and timing.
”……!”
Linca’s confident gaze faltered for a moment, her eyes turning away with a hint of irritation.
Kian suddenly struck the ground with the Windsong Blade, hoping to disrupt her footing. Dust rose around her, but she stood firm, cloaked in the aura of Penetration.
And then—
”────”
”……?”
(Her stance just changed…?)
She crouched even lower, posture set like a sprinter ready to launch.
Kian’s sharp eyes caught the spiraling energy gathering around her legs.
(No way… That’s the secret technique—Pursuit of the Shadow!)
In the next instant, Linca’s figure blurred and vanished into a roaring cloud of dust.
A single, jet-black strike came flying straight for his chest.
Kian made a split-second decision—he dropped low, collapsing to the ground.
But he hadn’t dodged in time.
The gust from the Windsong Blade tore into the dirt, but Linca’s hand pierced into his right lung with chilling accuracy. In a real battle, it would’ve been fatal. But this was still training. Her strike halted just short of true damage. The duel wasn’t over yet.
Kian retaliated, aiming the Misty Magic Sword at her legs, but Linca’s follow-up kick to his face came first.
”Huh…”
Did she just laugh?
Or maybe… she simply exhaled.
As the sword passed by, her left leg shimmered and dispersed like fog.
Before Kian could even react, she was already repositioning. He aimed for her neck—but she deflected with the back of her left hand, twisting his angle away.
While Kian tried to rise, she sank her stance low again, punching forward with her right fist.
”…!”
He couldn’t dodge.
Even after all this time watching her fights, learning her patterns—she still struck him clean in the chest.
It was her victory.
”────!”
”Yes! I won!”
Linca raised a small, triumphant fist.
Kian clenched his jaw. Frustration and envy surged inside—but he swallowed them down.
”…I lost.”
”Yes, this time you did.”
”Tch.”
Kian turned his face away, but Linca circled in front of him and extended her hand with a smile.
”That was a good fight. Let’s shake hands!”
”…Huh?”
Her face was bright and earnest, her teeth showing in a grin full of pride.
”Actually, I was really nervous about losing again at close range. So, I’ve been secretly training for that leap move in my head.”
”Is that so?”
”Mhm! With this, I’ve finally avenged myself—at least a little.”
”────”
”Of course, this doesn’t erase the truth. You won the first two fights. Back then… I should have lost everything.”
She wiped sweat from her brow, as if brushing away that heavy past.
”But I’ve grown. I’ve surpassed the me who lost to you. And maybe even the you from back then.”
”Ah, um…”
”Now it’s your turn to surpass me.”
”────”
”Right?”
”…Yeah. You’re right.”
Kian gave a small nod.
Seeing it, Linca pulled a small hourglass from beneath her sleeve.
”There’s still time left. How about a few more matches?”
They went on to have nine more mock battles.
Kian won seven. Linca took her second and third victories.
She wasn’t holding back. Every fight, she gave it her all.
After the final match, Linca smiled like the clear morning sky.
”That was great! Let’s do it again sometime!”
Unlike Kian, who brooded over losses and burned with thoughts of revenge, Linca’s light-heartedness felt like a breeze after a storm.
As Wing Cain’s return grew near, they paused their duels and began trading techniques.
But as Linca opened up more, Kian found himself thrown off-balance—not by her fighting, but by her.
Compared to the frustrating spars with Sarah, these fights with Linca left behind a strange, pleasant feeling.
”…I think I get it now. Why you had so many friends back at school.”
”What? Forget that! Teach me more about Western Knight throws!”
”Ah, sorry. So—put your hand here, then use the lever principle like this—”
”Whoaa!”
Linca tumbled to the ground with a soft thud, then burst out laughing.
”This technique might not suit me after all.”
”No, it might come in handy. Since you fight bare-handed, it could be useful in a tight moment.”
She reached up, grabbing his hand and lifting herself back to her feet.
”Training with you is fun.”
”If training’s only pain, it won’t last. I’m glad you think so. Though… I guess I’m not one to talk about ‘not lasting.’”
”Haha. But still, I’d rather it be fun than painful. I learned a lot tonight. Thanks.”
When Kian smiled sincerely, Linca blinked, then blushed.
”Ah… w-well then! Shall we wipe off our sweat? It’s already past midnight.”
”You’re right.”
Kian looked up.
Bathed in the soft moonlight, the giant figure of Wing Cain slowly descended toward them.
* * *
The reply from Lord Owl stated that he could offer four hundred Franz Kingdom gold coins, along with one thousand kilograms of wheat, and precious metals valued at an additional five hundred coins. However, his intentions were not aimed at peace with the Beastmen. His objective was clear: to force them back to the northern regions before their encroachment devastated the farmlands.
> “The negotiations are just a way to buy time. They won’t conflict with Lord Owl’s goals.”
Those were Sarah’s words as she glanced over the letter. When Kian and Linca returned to their assigned room in the temple’s left wing to report, Sarah was already waiting, the opened missive in hand.
”Whether they’ll care about the Franz Kingdom coins is unclear,” Sarah murmured, scanning the letter with a sharp eye. “But the wheat and precious metals could hold some value in these talks. If fortune favors us, we might not be able to drive all of them away, but we may succeed in persuading a portion to withdraw.”
”For example, convincing the Black Panther tribe and the Steel Tiger tribe to retreat,” Linca suggested, “and then dividing the remaining Beastmen and Wolfmen—along with the smaller tribes—into separate groups might be effective, right?”
Kian nodded in agreement.
”I see. If we can isolate them, it might make it easier to strike them individually.”
”No. We’re only escorting Mr. Rean and the others until the handover. The actual division and any individual offensives will be handled by Lord Owl or Lady Eleonora.”
”Of course, I know that. I just meant that after the handoff, it looks like I won’t be burdened with any strange responsibilities. If I say something careless and it ends up offending the Beastmen, it wouldn’t be surprising if Her Excellency Maribel told me to take responsibility and finish the fight myself.”
”Is Her Excellency Maribel really that strict with you?”
”More than strict, she seems determined to pull me into the heart of her political web.”
Hearing that, Linca nodded knowingly.
”Rulers are always looking for capable people to shoulder their burdens. Someone as useful as you, Sir Kian, is someone they’ll try to keep close.”
”…Am I really that convenient?”
”Isn’t Princess Maribel that blonde-haired, blue-eyed noble girl? If she clung to you and said, ‘Please\~’, wouldn’t you end up agreeing to anything she asked?”
”Well… considering the trouble I’m already in because of her, I can’t exactly deny it.”
Sarah placed Owl’s letter onto the desk and looked up at both of them.
”I understand. I’ll handle the negotiations and try to buy us time. Kian, Linca—thank you for your swift coordination. Thanks to you, we’ve avoided complete chaos.”
”During the talks… should I just remain silent?” Kian asked.
”That’ll be fine. Sir Umar and I will lead the conversation.”
”Then I’ll stay behind as Sir Kian’s assistant.”
”Good. If Arminus makes any sudden moves, I’ll count on you to handle him.”
Sarah’s eyes moved to Linca with pointed intent.
”I’ll check in for the shift change at six tomorrow morning. Until then, stay in your room and rest.”
”Oh? Is there any reason I’d need to wait outside my room instead?”
”If you sneak into Kian’s room,” Sarah replied without pause, “I’ll be forced to assassinate you.”
”Which one of us?”
Kian asked dryly.
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
”Both. So take a proper rest. Be alert by tomorrow afternoon, and whatever you do—don’t show up in a state where you can’t respond if something happens. Understood?”
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Arminus – Male. Leader of the Black Panther Tribe. Possesses extraordinary physical abilities, enhanced by the tribe’s unique technique that repels energy and magic attacks. His speed and strength surpass those of High Warlord Isthbaran. Wields the magic sword Balmung, capable of cleaving through an ice dragon with a single strike. His black fur provides camouflage in low visibility, making him nearly undetectable. Relationship: Leader of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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