I'm Fighting Kal'tsit? Seriously?

"Whew, thanks." The Banshee took the cup floating over from the other party, drained it in one satisfying gulp, and sighed. "Seriously, we all arrived not long ago, so how can the gap between Banshees be this huge?"

"That is because you did not spend your time studying. Instead, you chose to come here with them to find an outsider man."

Nastya answered coldly, "Banshees born in the Royal Courts and Banshees born in Kazdel are fundamentally different concepts. Not to mention that she is the Banshee Queen."

"You and I only survived by luck because we were born during the war. You should have seen what Kazdel was like back then. When it comes to Incantation, we can never compare to Banshees of pure blood."

The young Banshee pursed her lips. "Then what is the point of working hard? We cannot beat them anyway. We might as well go back to Kazdel and help Her Highness build our homeland."

"Then go back." Nastya ignored her companion's dispirited remarks. Moving her already numb feet, she took another firm step forward. "Coming to River Valley was my own choice, and yours as well. The Banshee Queen may regret it, but she will never stop you."

"I was just complaining a little."

Seeing her companion about to leave her behind, the young Banshee hurried after her in a quick trot. "You are criticizing me, but when it comes down to it, you are walking faster than anyone... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Nastya said nothing more and simply hurried onward.

"Hey! Explain it to me." With no response from the other woman, the young Banshee nearly choked on her breath, her entire face flushing red. "You are always so smart, so teach me!"

Hearing that, Nastya still showed no intention of stopping, but her pace visibly slowed at once.

"Do you think a Banshee Queen and an outsider who personally killed the commanders of the three-nation coalition would fail to notice us following behind them?" Nastya slowed her breathing before continuing. "Is that not obvious? They are waiting for us to catch up. Those Incantations along the way involving guidance, losing one's way, and exhaustion—were they not all testing us?"

"...Testing what?" Confusion flashed through the young Banshee's eyes.

"Endurance, intelligence, ambition, willpower... Do I need to continue? Only by earning the recognition of a Greater Banshee can I have even the slightest chance to read the ancient texts, and there can never be too much knowledge!"

"If Kazdel is ever rebuilt, we will not live to see that day." As Nastya spoke, she looked around to make sure no one was listening before slowly continuing, "So the only thing I might possibly have access to right now is the collections belonging to the Greater Banshees!"

"But we are not members of the Royal Courts." The young Banshee spread her hands. "That is useless to us."

This time, Nastya truly could not even be bothered to speak.

On the other side, although Lamaline's expression had seemed somewhat ruined ever since she heard about the cause of Oripathy, the distant conversation still made her smile despite herself.

"That child is quite right." The mistress of the Banshee Court, as referred to by the young Banshee, offered her sharp assessment. "Time should be spent studying."

Gerald ignored Lamaline's eavesdropping through his wind. After all, although Lamaline had proposed this outing, he sometimes wanted to talk with someone about these topics as well... Besides, the gossip had been carried to his ears by the wind itself. He knew nothing.

For now, once this "walk" was over, Lamaline probably would not refuse to spar with him. Naturally, he could talk about whatever he wanted now.

"She is very perceptive, that Banshee named Nastya." Gerald silently recalled the Incantations they had encountered along the way. "I did not see any Incantations related to guidance or exhaustion, but she could. Does that mean she has some talent after all?"

If he had seen them, he would have run straight into them to experience them firsthand.

"I fear her intelligence surpasses her talent." Lamaline nodded, then shook her head regretfully. "I left the guidance Incantations behind you, while the exhaustion Incantations were hidden in the bushes."

"That child likely reached her conclusion through environmental deduction. She has some talent, but it is far from enough."

He understood.

Calculating one plus two all the way to five hundred by brute force, versus using an arithmetic progression to calculate it, given the same amount of time—the former was talent, while the latter was intelligence.

Banshees valued the former.

"But if you are considering the continuation of your race, she would do very well," Gerald suddenly said. "In my view, Incantation only needs to be sufficient. If they cannot reach your level, then on the battlefield they will only be expendable assets—perhaps slightly more valuable ones, but expendable assets all the same."

"...How cruel."

"It is the truth. The cause of Oripathy you just heard about, Gaul's artillery, Victoria's Steam Knights—has none of that been enough to wake you up? Or does a costly victory make you think that as long as you repeat the old methods, neither succeeding nor failing, you can pretend nothing happened and continue living as before?"

"...Rest and recuperation are the Banshees' most important goal at present." Lamaline gently shook her head, seeming unconvinced.

"Making those children stop clinging so desperately to Incantation does not conflict with rest and recuperation. I am not asking you to abandon Incantation. I only hope that you will pay more attention to children like Nastya, even if, in your eyes, her bloodline—no. I got a little carried away."

Gerald originally wanted to say more, but the green mountains and clear waters around him, the fresh air in the forest, the body that could move freely—sensations he had not experienced for two years—reminded him at every moment.

This was still the world of dreams.

Even if he knew what kind of armies and equipment Columbia, Victoria, and Leithanien would possess in the future, even if he knew how far science would advance two hundred years from now, nothing here would change.

Because this was the world of dreams.

...What exactly was he doing?

The frustration in his mind gradually piled up, and so he could only add one final sentence. "No matter what, I will fulfill my duty."

This time, Lamaline remained silent for a long while.

From the clinic beside the waterfall to the edge of River Valley, the tower hidden within the Incantations was not far away. Yet throughout that time, Lamaline did not say a single word.

Her figure seemed tormented by a deep, oppressive worry.

In only a single day, Lamaline had seen more strange things in Gerald than she had in the decades she had spent in war.

The cause of Oripathy, his judgment regarding the current situation in Kazdel and among the Sarkaz, his thoughts about the future, and that peculiar Originium Art that allowed Incantation to interfere with him without affecting him.

From Theresa's words, she had already set her expectations high.

After speaking with him personally, she raised that assessment even further.

After walking through River Valley with him, her evaluation of him underwent another revision.

"I understand what you are thinking." Standing before the tower, Lamaline slowly spoke. "It is simply that this idea may be difficult for the elders of the race to accept."

"So, I have a proposal."

The mistress of the Banshee Court turned around and invited the Pegasus, "I know this is asking too much. I have not even fulfilled the conditions I once promised you."

"—But would you spar with me?"

"Inside the Banshees' Wordcraft Tower."

A True Mistress of the Royal Courts

Spar?

This...

This was far too perfectly suited to his wishes.

—But it was not enough.

"I see."

Yet Gerald's joy did not show on his face. Outwardly, he remained calm and unruffled.

"No, you do not need to apologize to me. Rather, I had hoped to spar with you after today was over. Even if you had not said it, I would have made that request."

At a time like this, pretending to be reluctant was the mark of an amateur.

First, if he put on that false act for her, it would be harder to make similar requests of Lamaline afterward.

Second, appealing to both emotion and reason was the true path to sustainable development.

And most importantly:

He did not want a Lamaline who merely played around with him, quickly treating their spar as a formality.

There was no need to give Lamaline time to overthink. Unnecessary misunderstandings would only make things troublesome. So Gerald quickly explained, "As I said before, I was not saying that Incantation is no longer important to Banshees."

"Rather, strength is the guarantee of everything. Only after possessing a certain degree of strength can we discuss whether the focus should shift elsewhere or remain on improving that strength."

"If that Banshee named Nastya had no talent at all, I would not advise you to value people like her. Earning the Banshee Queen's attention inevitably means facing harsher challenges. Without strength, it will only bring disaster. It would be better for her to recognize reality sooner, rather than bash her head bloody before realizing her own shortcomings."

"So you see, a standard is needed—one that determines who stays and who leaves, and which Banshees need to be cultivated as priorities."

Gerald raised his head to look at the enormous tower before him. The gray-black building was shrouded in Thorns, similar to the thorny knots he had seen earlier at the center of River Valley. A faint scent of suffering and blood emanated from it.

The Banshees had not been in River Valley long enough to accumulate something on this scale. In other words, it had been moved directly from Kazdel.

Then, considering the building's location in River Valley and what was about to happen inside it, its purpose was self-evident.

"That standard depends on you, Lamaline. It also depends on your kin and sisters." His gaze lingered on the tower for several seconds before he turned to the pondering Banshee Queen. "But it does not matter if you cannot think of it immediately."

"For now, those children only need to know where the highest standard lies—the standard they can pursue, perhaps even try to surpass."

"You may have guided those children before, but the greatest problem is that you cannot use your full strength against them. So in their eyes, you will always be a vague image, a figure infinitely deified in their hearts."

"And so, that standard has now become very vague as well."

"Because you yourself are still hesitating over what form you should take in facing the Banshees' future."

Just like the conversation he had once had with Lamaline before accepting that necklace.

[Do not be shaken by trivial matters, but at the same time, integrate into the race. Become an example and someone they can rely on.]

Gerald understood this very well. Pure combat was always the simplest thing, requiring the least thought. Once the focus shifted from war to internal affairs, many people simply could not make that transition in time.

They would waste time and energy in endless trial, error, and hesitation, drifting ever farther from success.

After all, at the beginning, no one knew which answer was the right one.

Lamaline quietly listened to the Pegasus's words, and the smile behind her veil gradually faded—she was seriously considering everything he had described.

"I want to ask you a somewhat presumptuous question." Gerald smiled lightly. "Heh, if I said this, half the people here would probably get angry with me on the spot... But what I want to ask is this: Lamaline, what kind of Banshee Court do you want?"

"If you can preserve your own mystery, everyone will respect you and support everything you do."

"No matter how you wish the future to develop, they will certainly choose to follow you, even if the road leads somewhere not as we hoped."

"But."

Gerald stressed that turn heavily, his voice carrying unquestionable resolve.

He truly liked giving others a choice, did he not?

That was how he treated Saria, and how he treated Lamaline.

Because no matter the outcome, he would accept it gladly.

"If you want this standard to no longer remain vague, but become something real—a goal these young Banshees can challenge and use to measure themselves."

"Then you must spar with me and let those children witness it."

"From then on, in their eyes, you will no longer simply be one of the Six Heroes of the Sarkaz. You will be an ordinary Banshee who truly exists, who bleeds and can be injured."

"They will realize that you can make mistakes too. Some Banshees may even feel disappointed, because they do not like seeing reality. They would rather remain in this tranquil River Valley and enjoy the beauty of the world. What they truly desire is a hero strong enough to protect them, one who will always give them a place to return to."

"You will fall from your pedestal, but perhaps that will also make some Banshees realize where the real problem lies, and then set out on the road they choose."

"—What will you choose?"

His words could end there.

He waited quietly to one side and spoke no more.

Gerald believed Lamaline would choose the latter.

And he would gain a complete opponent—one who held back none of her strength, who would not go easy on him, who would not be lost or hesitant, and who would use every skill she possessed to fight him to the death.

The true mistress of the Royal Courts.

It was now the spring of the year, and River Valley's spring carried boundless peace and beauty.

The wind gently brushed over the rushing river, while sunlight illuminated the crystal-clear riverbed.

The woman behind the veil turned around, looking back at the land she and her sisters had chosen as their own... Yet the earth remained silent. It could only quietly watch as one life after another settled upon it, just as it did everywhere else in the world.

Had she gradually become weak, compromising without end for the continuation of her race?

Perhaps she had. The man before her was proof enough.

In the eyes of the only Demon King in history to have ruled the Banshee Court, her actions would undoubtedly be seen as abandoning her own dignity and that of her people.

Allowing an outsider to interfere as he pleased, even allowing him to make any demand of a race's leader—one only needed to think of the writers who had turned Banshees into fantasies in their books to understand where such a situation might lead.

If he harbored malice, these vows would undoubtedly make her regret everything, make her wish she could tear her past self apart.

But she had gambled.

She gambled on her friend Theresa; on the silhouette she had seen that day; on a possible future in which her race could become better.

So why had reality caught her so utterly off guard?

Some wagers remained hidden behind mist until the final outcome arrived, leaving people agonized with anticipation.

But her wager had needed only one morning and one afternoon to show her what lay beyond the door.

So she took out the Bone Pen from her robes and inscribed an Incantation.