Hearing the discussions around him and feeling the increasingly heated gazes turning his way, Roland withdrew his blade, letting Aestus Estus return to her maiden form and stand quietly at his side.
Even though they had already witnessed the weapon Aestus Estus transformed into, the pure, sacred maiden undoubtedly inspired greater enthusiasm than the cold Sacred Sword.
Among them, Ais, who was clearly still immersed in the tangled emotions of her defeat and her past, was the most deeply captivated.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
Roland tilted his head, a victor's smile on his face, and took Ais's soft, slender wrist to pull her up.
This familiar scene sent the girl into another daze. She offered no resistance whatsoever, nor did she regain control of her body, letting herself be lifted like a rag doll. After stumbling forward a few steps, she fell straight into Roland's arms.
Such utter airheadedness was completely beyond Roland's expectations, but he still instinctively caught Ais by her slender waist.
Perhaps it was because this was the first time someone of the opposite sex had treated her this way, or perhaps it was because Roland's figure overlapped with the past in her memories. The slender, graceful Ais did not resist, merely twisting her body casually.
One of Roland's hands was still held by Aestus Estus, so he could only hold Ais with one arm, bringing them very close together. Her seemingly unintentional struggles instead let him fully experience that wonderful sensation, while the fragrance unique to a young maiden kept stirring his emotions.
As she twisted, the girl's pert bottom kept brushing against the hand Roland had wrapped around her waist.
But before Roland could linger in that delicate sensation, Aestus Estus spoke in a completely level voice.
"Lord Roland, did Aestus Estus do well?"