I'm Fighting Kal'tsit? Seriously?

A child who had made her home beside the morgue, keeping company with death day after day—that was the farthest distance from life.

"During his final days, Father once gave me some water lily seeds."

"He said he would place his final soul within those seeds. As long as I changed the water every half day and waited for them to sprout, when the water lilies bloomed, he would meet me again in that instant."

"I didn't plant them, because I knew that if I planted those seeds in Mansfield, I would never see Father again."

The hand above began to move forward one step, slowly yet resolutely.

"I don't want to."

For the first time, Duma straightened her spine, raised her eyes, and looked at the friend who had always helped her. "I don't want to wait here for death."

A sudden silence descended upon the room. Gerald, seated in his chair, said nothing. He merely stared at Duma with a curious expression that seemed to ask, Is there more?

That reaction left the girl somewhat discouraged. "What... do you think?"

"What do I think?" Gerald blinked, then suddenly grinned wickedly. "Just kidding. Don't ask me questions like that. I've never judged anyone's dreams."

"Back on the battlefield, I heard everyone—everyone in my squad—shout about their dreams."

He looked up at the ceiling, slowly sinking into his memories. "Things like becoming billionaires, becoming playboys surrounded by beauties. I told them straight up that those were all unrealistic. If they were going to dream, why not dream big? Like conquering the world or something... Then, everyone except me died at the hands of Ursus's Internal Security."

"So I won't judge whether someone's dream is good or bad." His eyes gradually cleared, and he smiled gently at his friend. "I'll only help that person achieve her dream."

"Relax, Duma. Once we get to Columbia, we'll find a way."

He stood and held out a fist to Duma, signaling for a fist bump.

The girl carefully got to her feet as well, tried curling her hand into a fist, and lightly tapped it against the fist far larger than hers.

Seeing that, Gerald couldn't help laughing. As his mouth opened and closed, Duma let out a helpless sigh.

She knew he was about to start rambling again.

"Oh, right. Want to try brewing alcohol? Let me tell you, booze has plenty of benefits. I don't recommend drinking it, but we could absolutely build a whole industry around it. Trust me, partner with me and we'll crush Columbia's liquor market, where everything tastes like watered-down piss..."

And so, on the clock, the hand that belonged to the girl began to turn once more.

Is Talking About Children the Best Way to Close the Distance?

Just as promised, five days later, Saria brought a large bundle of books into Mansfield Prison.

She wrapped the books in enamel packaging, disguised them as large items mixed in with the renovation crew's luggage, and easily transferred them into her own room.

She hadn't put them in the library partly to avoid the prison guards who went there to read comics, and partly so she could take them with her when she left.

Slowly pushing open the library door, she found the silver-haired Pegasian still sitting in his usual spot during lunch. The book in his hands had nearly been worn to pieces, its pages and cover both crumpled beyond recognition.

"Well, if it isn't our Lady Saria."

The moment he heard those heavy heels strike the floor, Gerald knew that the study assignment set to accompany him for four months had returned.

Though he still had the leisure to flip through the book in his hands, the heaviness in his heart made him sigh. "So, aside from books, did you bring any gifts for this hardworking student?"

Saria set her books on the library table, then tossed a bag of candy to Gerald. "For you."

"?? You actually brought something? What's this?" Gerald, who had been bent over his book, raised a hand and caught the item thrown through the air. He weighed it twice in his palm. "Pete Fruit assorted candies?"

"I saw it when I checked your file earlier. I originally wanted to ask the kitchen to make you a cake, but Mansfield doesn't seem to have the conditions for that." Saria removed her guard cap and rearranged her stuffy hair. "Happy birthday, Gerald."

Gerald froze at those words, then suddenly turned his head to stare at the diamond lady who had given him the gift.

"What is it?" Saria noticed something was off, though she didn't understand why. Soon, she fell silent—after all, she had only chosen Ifrit's favorite flavor.

Remembering what Muelsyse had said last time, she realized she didn't seem good at choosing gifts, not even something as simple as candy.

After pondering for a few seconds, she shook her head. "I see. I don't think I asked what flavor you liked. That was presumptuous of me."

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, if I told you I'd actually experienced two twenty-fifth birthdays, would you believe me?"

As though suddenly relieved, he gently tore open the candy bag and popped a hard candy into his mouth. "But this is my first twenty-sixth birthday."

The strawberry flavor inside was, as always, cloyingly sweet.

He had lived longer than in his previous life. He didn't know whether that counted as an achievement.

"Here." Gerald shook the bag, holding the tear he had just made toward Saria. "Have some, have some. Their candy's really good—rich texture, cheap price. I loved this kind even before I went to prison. Better than every product John's Mom makes."

"...I don't eat candy." Saria turned her head away and straightened her guard cap again.

"Come on. Even I don't know whether today is actually my birthday, but have you ever seen someone eat an entire birthday cake alone?" Gerald glanced at the candy in his hand. "Uh, I guess candy's about the same?"

"On most of my so-called birthdays, I could only receive things I'd earned—scholarships, competition sponsorships, investments, and funding I had secured."

Saria leaned against the wall. Though she was recalling the past, her gaze never wavered for a moment, as though she were speaking of something unrelated to herself. "So I prefer to call this a prize you won fair and square, Gerald. If every employee Rhine Lab recruited were like you, I imagine things would be very different now."

Yet after hearing her, someone didn't focus on the latter half of her words at all. Instead, his eyes lit up, and he mysteriously wagged a finger.

"Ahhh, I get it now."

"Children's favorite flavor, Pete Fruit." Gerald patted the candy wrapper, then pointed at Saria, looking as though he was one table-slam away from shouting, "Objection!!" "An old fossil who doesn't even know what birthdays are, with ideas stuck centuries in the past."

Before Saria could retort, he immediately continued, "Could it be that some parent once gave her own kid a gift, so she started treating candy as universal currency and figured it was always a safe choice?"

"And she also happened to forget her own kid's birthday before, so now that a certain parent who didn't used to celebrate birthdays has become especially sensitive to commemorative dates, she decided to give me a birthday present too?"

"..."

Saria clenched her fist, taking several deep breaths before finally suppressing the irritation in her gaze. "...Ifrit isn't my child. If you get the chance later, you'll meet her too."

"Is that so?"

Gerald didn't press the matter. He keenly noticed the complicated emotion in Saria's tone whenever she spoke of the child named Ifrit.

Given all the vile things that happened across this land, along with the influence of the science fiction stories from his previous life, he could already imagine just how complicated the backstory was.

"Don't always give candy. Even a prisoner who's been locked up for a year like me can think of plenty of good gifts."

He put down his book and began seriously working through the matter with Saria. "Does your kid like fighting? What's her temper like? Does she like being around others? Can she make friends?"

Saria had just wanted to tell Gerald to get back to reading and stop prying into her life, but before the words could leave her mouth, he cut her off again. It felt as though he had held the initiative in their conversation tightly from beginning to end, leaving her no room to interject.

And she happened to care deeply about the question as well.

"She is a good child. She's a little impulsive at times, but she's kind at heart and doesn't want to hurt others. And... I think she has made a few friends."

Realizing she knew absolutely nothing about Ifrit's current circumstances, Saria opened her mouth, but in the end, couldn't say anything.

"It's fine if you can't put it into words. It isn't all your fault. You have things you must do. Just remember to spend more time with her next time."

Gerald unusually said something serious, then began scribbling on paper. "Impulsive, good child, doesn't want to hurt others... That's far too vague. But since that's the image you have of her, you must have reached it after careful thought."

"That means she's probably hurt people unintentionally before. Given a child's physique, she might have incredibly powerful Originium Arts. At the same time, the people raising her are excellent. She's currently in an environment that lets her keep her emotions stable. She knows right from wrong and has at least a little ability to restrain herself."

"Tabletop games." He tapped his notes, crossing out more than a dozen options until only one remained. "The new Otherworldly Creed series from Witch's Feast, or the earlier Ancient Manor Treasures—both have great scenarios. Get her immersed in them and teach her how to use Originium Arts for acting and atmosphere. Once she gradually learns to control her power, have her be the host among kids her age. After she runs a few campaigns, she'll understand how to communicate and manage emotions."

"And it's really fun. Kids will definitely love it. There are even official highlight reels and performances. You could start by letting her watch some spoiler-free videos."

Gerald looked up. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

There was no response.

Saria said nothing, simply standing there in silence.

Only after a long while did she slowly ask a question.

"What is Witch's Feast?"

That question blew through every word Gerald had been about to say.

Only then did his stunned mind realize that even a classic tabletop game from Columbia, whose advertisements played on television year-round, wasn't something that could go unexplained for the head of Rhine Lab's Defense Department, who was focused entirely on her goals.

Well, that really was...

As a top-tier TRPG armchair player, that question had hit the spot!!

And so, that day, Saria learned a great deal.

Gerald also gained a great deal: a reading list piled as high as a mountain, along with a handwritten test from the head of Rhine Lab's Defense Department.

One month later, Rhodes Island.

A girl with pale golden hair clutched a package sent from Columbia against her chest as she raced toward the dormitory as fast as she could.

On the way, Ifrit nearly crashed into an elite operator with four arms. After hurriedly apologizing, she quickly received the other's understanding, a word of advice, and a bag of handmade cookies.

But she simply couldn't suppress the excitement in her heart, because just a few days ago, Big Sister Muelsyse had contacted her through a water clone—Saria had actually sent her a gift!

With an excited heart, she quietly shut the door, made sure Silence wasn't in the room, then tossed the package onto the bed and slowly peeled away the outer wrapping.

When all the outer packaging had been removed, Ifrit froze in place.

Just as Gerald had recommended, the limited edition Otherworldly Creed series of Witch's Feast lay quietly inside the box.

The outer packaging was an exquisitely crafted wooden case, while inside were game pieces and handcrafted maps made by Columbia's finest artisans—

You ask how Ifrit knew what was inside before opening it?

That was because in the display area the girl treasured most, set apart on its own, an identical wooden case sat quietly there, with a letter beside it.

The end of the letter read:

By, Silence.

Thirty Days in Mansfield

Naturally, Gerald, still in prison, had no idea that the gift he had suggested to Saria would overlap with one from a certain Liberi mom, creating a disastrous collision.

He was currently busy with his nearly impossible crash course to become a Terra medical student.

Day one of the crash course.

This time, he had taken twenty moves from the Feline general.

Could she be some kind of robot? Her sword movements and strength were far too consistent, practically like she had been programmed—and there was no spark to it at all. Could humans—oh, Terra apparently didn't have the concept of humans—really cultivate a species like that?

Back in reality, Lady Saria faithfully carried out her duties as a prison guard. Though he had no idea why she had the leisure to waste time in a place like this, he was more inclined to see it as the lady's personal indulgence.

As for the fact that her patrol route was mostly in Zone C, and that she often went toward the serious offenders... best to ignore it.

It was obvious enough. No matter how gifted he was in medicine, this busy woman couldn't possibly stay in a place where even information couldn't circulate for four months just for him and Anthony.

He had seen quite a few serious offenders as well. There was no shortage among them of mad scientists or supercriminals who treated the law as nothing.

Whatever. She could do whatever she wanted. The dirty business of Columbia's scientific community had nothing to do with him. Later, he still needed to teach Anthony a few ways to stay alive. If anyone lacked time, it was him.

In matters like this, knowing one's limits was what mattered most.

Day seven of the crash course.

Good news: he had drawn blood from that lynx with Originium Arts. A small win.

Bad news: that monster seemed even more outrageous than she was. Its speed and power weren't even on the same level. He couldn't block it at all and could only force a clash with Originium Arts.

Also, his head had actually been cut off this time. That hadn't happened in the previous rounds. Maybe he needed to pay more attention to the coordination between her true body and that monster. Relying only on the wind to identify the enemy's attacks was completely insufficient for fights of this intensity now.

Back in reality, ever since he had talked with Saria about Ifrit, she seemed less resistant to discussing her own story with him. When she had free time, she would also ask him some questions.

Though she didn't go into detail, even the broadest explanations revealed plenty.

That kid really had suffered a lot. What a pack of bastards.

He understood the mindset of people willing to sacrifice anything and everything for progress. Understanding was one thing, but at the end of the day, he was just an ordinary man. If something like that happened to someone he knew, he would skin those people alive.

Unfortunately, he heard that most of them were already dead. Those fuckers had gotten off far too easy.

As he listened to the story, he occasionally looked up at the woman telling it.

There was no expression on Saria's face. Without emotion or personal judgment, she quietly described the scenes she had witnessed.

Yet even when sparring with him, her brows remained tightly furrowed, as though some crushing burden and responsibility weighed upon them, constantly reminding her that she couldn't allow herself even a moment of rest.

Don't be fooled by the fact that he had been under immense academic and mental pressure lately. The battles in his dreams and the huge amount of material he needed to memorize had almost left him no time to breathe—but that pressure wasn't forced upon him. It was merely a restraint he had imposed on himself.

But Saria was different.