For a brief moment after lowering his blade, Knox simply… stood there.
The field was quiet now, the mana ripples finally settling. But in that stillness, a thought flickered—one he somehow forgot in the middle of showing off forms and talking names.
Right… after I fought Jasil… I heard something. A notification.
Like a system prompt.
Don't tell me…
His eyes narrowed a little, thoughts racing.
Did my EX-rank skill finally kick in?
Shadow Monarch… could it actually be usable now? And if that's true—does that mean I also get a system? A proper system?! Maybe a window will pop up if I just focus—
He exhaled, trying to recreate that moment, mentally willing anything to appear.
Nothing happened.
At least, not from his "system."
Instead—
"Dana," Israfill's calm voice drifted from behind him, puncturing his concentration. "Have you had enough sparring? How is the result?"
Her tone was composed, but there was a subtle curiosity hidden underneath—like she already had an idea but wanted to hear it from Dana herself.
Dana stepped closer, sword resting casually against her shoulder. She didn't even break stride as she answered, "Barely passable."
And to make things worse, she lifted her hand—thumb and index finger held almost together, leaving a teeny-tiny gap. The universal gesture of 'just a little bit'.
Knox stared at the gesture.
Then at Dana.
Then back at the gesture.
"…Excuse me," he said dryly, pointing at her hand. "There is definitely something wrong with that of yours. Why does it feel like that tiny gap contains a distance the size of heaven and earth?"
Dana didn't deny it—actually, she even tilted her hand as if proudly showing the measurement.
Israfill stifled a small laugh behind her hand, her blue eyes soft with amusement.
And Knox could only sigh, the corner of his lips twitching.
"Be honest, you just enjoy bullying me a little, don't you?
Great. First no system screen, now emotional damage.
Knox raised his hand as if calling for attention, stepping half a pace forward with the most dramatic seriousness he could muster.
"But, big sis Dana—are you sure this sparring is enough?" he began, brows lifting in mock worry. "Because, honestly…"
He pointed to the barren field, waving his arm in a big, sweeping gesture.
"I thought with your personality, I'd end up flying—like, literally—waaay over there."
He swung his arm to the right.
"And then maybe bounce over there—"
He pointed left, twisting his body as if bracing for impact.
"—before finally, you know, exploding into a cute little crater on the ground."
He even crouched slightly, fingers drawing a circle in the dirt as if outlining the crater size. Then he straightened, clearing his throat with theatrical precision.
"And after that dramatic near-death experience, I'd awaken some secret hidden power, struggle back onto my feet—still not good enough for you, obviously—then you'd slowly tilt your head and ask me…"
Knox lifted a hand to his cheek, lowered his tone, and slipped into an uncanny imitation of an old grandma — the kind of once-famous band member who retired, yet still throws out advice sharp enough to stab straight into your soul. Anyone who had ever watched MYGO!!!!! would instantly recognize the vibe.
"Did you do your best?"
He even mimicked the slight, intimidating tone that grandma always uses—the kind that feels questioning and threatening at the same time.
Israfill couldn't hold it in—she burst out laughing, one hand covering her mouth as her shoulders shook.
Dana, meanwhile, twitched an eyebrow, staring at Knox like he'd grown a second head.
"What are you talking about?" she asked flatly. "Do you really want me to throw you around? You've been reading way too many novels."
Knox shrugged, almost offended. "I mean, I just fought you with a sword. I wasn't even using magic."
Dana exhaled through her nose, half-amused, half-annoyed. "There's no need. I was only interested in your sword style. As for fighting you while you're also using magic—" she flicked her fingers dismissively, "—not now. Besides, I already know you've got exceptional control over magic. Way beyond your peers."
Knox blinked, a bit caught off-guard by how casually she said it. "...You make it sound like that's just common knowledge."
Israfill leaned closer to him, elbow nudging his arm with a teasing grin. "She's basically praising you, you know. In Dana-language, that's the equivalent of throwing confetti."
Dana narrowed her eyes. "I do not throw confetti."
"You would if it were made of metal," Israfill shot back.
Dana ignored her and looked at Knox again. "The point is—you're skilled. Your sword style is polished, your footwork is clean, and your instincts are sharp. That's why I didn't need to push you further."
Knox let out a slow breath. "Huh… guess that's the nicest way anyone's ever told me, 'You're not worth breaking the floor over.'"
Israfill covered her mouth with the back of her hand, nearly choking on her own laughter. Dana simply pinched the bridge of her nose like she regretted initiating this entire conversation.
With that little disaster out of the way, the battlefield atmosphere finally eased. The residual mana thinned, drifting off like steam cooling on a winter morning, and the three of them were left standing amid scuffed soil and faint sword marks carved into the ground. It wasn't dramatic silence—just the kind that naturally settles in after everyone has said something embarrassing and no one wants to address it.
Knox stretched his shoulders with a quiet grunt, Dana rolled out her wrist like she had barely warmed up, and Israfill brushed dust off her sleeves with a soft hum, still smiling like she might burst into laughter again at any moment.
A simple clean-up followed. Dana rinsed her arms at the outdoor basin like it was nothing. Israfill vanished into the bath a moment later with the grace of someone who refused to stay dirty for longer than necessary. Knox went last, scrubbing away the dried sweat while replaying the fight in his head, his mind already drifting toward the kitchen.
And, as always, once Knox stepped into that kitchen, something switched on.
Minutes later, the table was filled again—warm dishes, balanced flavors, and a presentation so neat it made Dana pause mid-stride. Israfill sat down with a soft "oh my…" that she tried (and failed) not to let sound too impressed.
They ate quietly at first, then with increasing awe, because of course Knox's cooking was absurd.
After the meal, tea followed. Dana sipped hers with a relaxed exhale. Israfill lifted hers with both hands, enjoying the aroma, serene and ladylike—until she caught Knox casually dropping two ice cubes into his own cup.
She froze. One eyebrow lifted. Then twitched.
"…Knox," she said slowly, as if trying to process a crime happening right before her eyes, "what… are you doing?"
Knox shrugged, perfectly calm. "Because it tastes better that way?"
Israfill stared at him for a full two seconds, visibly betrayed by the concept.
Knox lifted his glass again, the ice clinking softly.
Honestly… who wouldn't choose this? he thought, unbothered.
In his previous life, hot tea was something he'd drink only when he was sick or pretending to be classy. But iced tea? That was sacred. That was the universal cure-all—stress, heat, exhaustion, emotional damage, everything. And after sparring with a monster like Dana?
He took another sip, utterly content, while Israfill continued staring at him like he had just violated every tea-drinking tradition known to mankind.
Israfill finally composed herself, as she set her teacup down. Her posture straightened, her tone returning to that gentle, composed cadence she carried as a Saintess.
"Knox," she began, "Dana and I have finished all remaining matters in the Neutral Zone. Starting tomorrow, we'll return to the Holy Federation. Our responsibilities have been piling up… and we can't delay them any longer."
Knox nodded without surprise. "Makes sense. You two were supposed to be here temporarily anyway."
Dana crossed her arms, chin lifting just slightly. "Before we leave, there's something else. That rat—Jasil." Her expression sharpened. "He had a bounty on his head. The payout will be delivered soon."
"Oh?" Knox raised a brow.
Inside, however, his soul practically threw a party.
Bless you, Jasil, he cheered internally, clasping imaginary hands together like praying to a benevolent god.
Not only did you pay me with experience, a dramatic villain speech, and a free skill notification… you're giving me money too?
And then another memory resurfaced, making him mentally straighten his back in pride.
Ah—right. Before our little duel, I also burned every single one of his hideouts… after, of course, taking anything shiny, valuable, or remotely stealable.
He sipped his iced tea with the serenity of a man who knew tomorrow would bring profit, justice, and maybe a borderline criminal amount of loot.
Truly, Jasil… you were a generous man.
Knox let out a quiet sigh—far too dramatic to be genuine—and lifted his iced tea like he was giving a toast.
"Bless you, Jasil," he said with utmost sincerity… or at least the performance of it.
Israfill blinked.
Dana stared.
Knox added, even more solemnly, "May your terrible life choices continue enriching mine."