Chapter 60: The gift Rosalia gave

“Hahaha—how did the Greatsword of Gluttony end up like this?”

The moment Rosalia’s divine artifact was summoned, Phield burst out laughing.

The once ferocious, domineering greatsword had shrunk to no more than the size of a palm. Worse still, the terrifying, abyss-like demonic eye that had once occupied the hilt now looked… oddly intelligent. Its gaze was suspiciously similar to that of a husky—vacant, earnest, and utterly foolish.

“Hey! Don’t interrupt!” Rosalia wanted to laugh too, but she bit her lip and forced herself to look serious, stomping her foot anxiously. “After a divine artifact undergoes disassembly, it needs time to recover! If you don’t believe me, look at Ashina’s—I refuse to believe her dog is still as intimidating as before.”

“It’s a wolf,” Ashina corrected calmly.

Phield was completely undone by the two girls and had to suppress the grin threatening to stretch across his face. “Alright, alright. I won’t interrupt.”

“Hmph. You’d better make good use of this in the future. Don’t waste it—this is my first time!” Rosalia declared indignantly. “And also my only time!”

After delivering that utterly outrageous statement, before Phield could even comment, Rosalia dissolved into thin strands of blood and flowed straight into the Greatsword of Gluttony. A moment later, a refined crimson line arced gracefully through the air and pierced into the back of Phield’s neck.

“Holy—!” Phield flinched in shock, instantly feeling a strange tingling itch behind his neck. He quickly steadied himself and reassured Ashina, “Don’t panic. Rosalia doesn’t mean any harm.”

A surge of warmth flooded into him. Unfamiliar energies coursed through his meridians, spreading into every cell of his body.

Every pore in Phield’s body opened, while his mind felt like it had been hurled onto a roller coaster—tightening sharply, then suddenly going blank. It was as if his consciousness had ascended to a higher dimension, soul and body briefly fusing as one.

Then, pure mana began to emerge, slowly flowing through every corner of his body.

“This is…” Phield clenched his fists, feeling strength surge through him—enough to punch down an ox.

“Of course it’s mana,” a soft, smug voice whispered near his ear. “Impressive, right? Hehe.”

“Permanent mana. Only First Rank for now,” Rosalia continued. “But when I advance, I’ll pull you along with me.”

Phield was stunned, utterly at a loss for words.

He had missed the age to cultivate mana—yet through this method, he had reclaimed it, stepping once more into the realm of the extraordinary.

Mana was not something common. Countless ordinary nobles spent their entire lives striving for it. And yet Phield had obtained it so effortlessly. If they ever found out, they’d probably cough blood from sheer rage.

Especially his younger brother—after chugging mana potions, going half-mad with effort, he still failed to even reach First Rank Knight.

Incredible.

“No wonder so many people seek out Divine Chosen,” Phield sighed.

Each Divine Chosen possessed bizarre, terrifying abilities. Rosalia might offer no help to the territory—but to him personally, her value was immense.

“This is the only chance you’ll ever have to regain mana,” Rosalia said seriously. “Don’t waste it. That said, you’re a lord—don’t rely on mana to show off. Leave fighting to us. Protect yourself.”

As her voice faded, the bloodline withdrew from Phield’s neck and condensed once more into Rosalia’s small-girl form.

“I’ll say it again—protect yourself! Don’t be reckless!” Rosalia stood with one hand on her hip, wagging a pale finger like a strict teacher.

“No problem,” Phield replied.

With First Rank mana, he now had basic self-defense against ordinary people. Against a Divine Chosen, he would still be killed in a single blow. On that point, Phield was very clear-headed.

“Thank you for your generosity,” he added.

If she hadn’t told him, he never would have known.

The system panel had its flaws—there was plenty he didn’t know, like the fact that divine artifacts could be disassembled. Perhaps his lord abilities simply hadn’t leveled up yet.

“Just don’t bully me from now on,” Rosalia said, the mature glint vanishing from her eyes as she reverted to her silly, adorable self. “So, Phield—your bed belongs to me from now on.”

“…Huh? You just said not to bully you, and now you’re claiming my bed?”

That mental leap was astonishing.

“You want to sleep with me?” Rosalia twisted shyly. “Overwhelmed by my natural fragrance, huh? But I’m still unmarried—this is moving far too fast. Political marriages are serious business.”

“You should build yourself another bed. I’ll allow you to stay one meter away.”

At some point, Ashina had moved behind the little girl. Like picking up a doll, she scooped Rosalia into her arms and pinched her cheeks. “Noble lady, you’ll be staying in my room. Don’t disturb my lord’s rest.”

“You’re awful! Let go with those sharp claws!” Rosalia flailed wildly. “Baron Phield, save me! My knight, will you just watch as the evil dragon runs rampant?”

Ashina bristled. “You’re the evil dragon. Behave, or I’ll let Drakewolf bite you.”

“Bite me? Impossible.” Rosalia wriggled free, grinning smugly. “It must be weak too. Just look at your dog.”

Phield’s curiosity was piqued as well. What would Drakewolf look like after disassembly?

“Your wish is granted.”

A flash of blue light erupted. A black “puppy,” no bigger than a month-old, landed on the floor.

“Hahahaha—wait, wait! We can talk! Don’t release the dog—!”

Before Rosalia could finish laughing, Drakewolf lunged at her. The little girl shrieked and ran in circles before finally leaping onto Phield’s back, clinging tightly.

Phield covered his face. “Things are going to get lively around here…”

No wonder Ashina never tired of teasing Rosalia—she had seen through her completely. Beneath it all, Rosalia was just adorably ridiculous.

…

The next morning.

Clang—

Rosalia flicked a finger against the Greatsword of Gluttony, producing a long, resonant hum.

“The three-day period has passed. My Greatsword of Gluttony has returned.” She declared proudly. “It’s not at peak condition yet, but it’s ready for battle.”

After disassembly, a divine artifact required one day to reforge, three days to be usable, and seven days to fully recover. Rosalia had slept for three days—today was exactly when it became operational.

“Phield, I need slaughter to restore myself next,” she said, hoisting the greatsword onto her shoulder, hands on her hips like a heroic champion. “Let’s go cut things down! Any creature that blocks your path—kill it.”

Calmly stuffing bread into his mouth, Phield nodded. “Perfect. I want to test my mana too. I’ll be relying on you today.”

“…Do I really have to be on duty today?” Ashina looked at Phield pitifully, her ears drooping as she stared at the duty roster in her hands. The schedule alternated by day, marked with little dog heads and bone wings to indicate guard assignments for the manor.

Phield quickly reached out and patted her head to comfort her. “Tomorrow we’ll team up. The territory still needs you to protect it.”

“…Alright.” Ashina sighed, then turned to Rosalia. “Protect my lord properly. If even a single hair is missing, I’ll let Drakewolf chew on you.”

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