Ren stepped into the cluttered workshop yet again today, his eyes immediately landing on the round wooden table in the center of the room. An object that could only have been crafted by Verrich sat upon it.
"Verrich, is that the finished product?"
"Yeah! I thought it over and decided on boots this time. Your feet probably won't grow much more, and I can always handle minor adjustments later!"
Ulysses had provided the necessary materials, including the specialized thread. As soon as they arrived, Verrich had thrown himself into the task, begrudging even the time spent asleep.
The boots were crafted with an abundance of processed Asval's Horn. While it wasn't obvious at a glance, the heels, toes, and insteps were all reinforced with the robust material. Verrich hadn't forgotten Ren’s preference for mobility either. As the smith finished his proud explanation, Ren pulled the boots on.
"They don't pinch anywhere, and they’re incredibly light."
"Heh, right? Finally seeing me in a new light?"
"Hardly. I’ve never doubted your skill for a moment."
"Oh? Is that so? Well, use 'em as you please. They shouldn't stand out much even under your school uniform."
"I agree. If the trousers get in the way, I'll just tuck them into the boots."
"Do whatever’s easiest. I built them so I can adjust the fit later, so don't you worry about growing up on me."
"I... thank you."
Ren couldn't control his own growth, but he appreciated the sentiment. When Verrich asked if he wanted to wear them home, Ren nodded and tucked his old shoes into a burlap sack the dwarf provided.
"Unlike the Gauntlets of the King of Flames, these don't have a name. Those are special. Anyway... are we done?" Verrich asked, swaying slightly. "I haven't slept in an idiotic amount of time. I'm idiotically tired."
Ren bowed deeply. "Thank you for the magnificent armor."
The moment he finished his thanks, Verrich collapsed spread-eagled and began to snore loudly—not on a bed, but right there on the soot-stained flooring.
"He seems to have reached his limit," Ulysses noted.
"It looks like it. All right, hup—"
Ren hoisted Verrich up and carried him to his bed. He took the key from the table, stepped outside, and locked the door behind them.
"I locked it without thinking, but now what do I do with the key?"
"I believe there's a pane of glass over there with a broken corner. Just toss it through there. Though with the glass already broken, security is a bit of a moot point," Ulysses remarked.
Ren had no retort for that.
"Are you sure you didn't need a chest plate or other armor?" Ulysses asked as they walked.
"I'll get to those eventually. Since I'm still growing, I want to wait on the larger pieces until my physique stabilizes."
The same logic applied to the boots, but in Verrich’s professional opinion, they were a piece that would require fewer major overhauls later. The remaining materials would be saved for future use.
I wonder if these will make the Flame Magic Sword easier to handle.
The thought reminded him of when he first received the gauntlets. He decided then and there to spend his holiday testing his new gear.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
The very next morning, Ren put his plan into action.
He hadn't been hunting lately, and since the Lion Sanctum was his only other obligation, it was the perfect time for a change of pace.
"Oh, Master Ren?"
An early-rising attendant called out to him in the entrance hall.
"It's still before dawn. Where are you off to at this hour?"
"I haven't been out of the city in a while, so I thought I'd get some fresh air. I’m also hoping to pick some fruit that can only be harvested at this time."
"Fruit that can only be harvested now...?"
The attendant tilted her head, but Ren seemed to be in a hurry, so she simply saw him off with a polite bow.
Ren headed to the stables on the manor grounds. Among the knights' steeds was Io, the chestnut horse that had once belonged to Jelququ. She had grown larger alongside Ren, and her coat shimmered with a healthy luster. She snorted as he approached.
"Ready for a long ride?"
"Buruu!"
With Ren in the saddle, Io trotted out of the manor in high spirits. At the city gates, the knight on duty looked up in surprise.
"Heading out early, are we?"
"Just to the forest for a change of pace."
"Haha! Good for you. Be safe out there!"
The knight didn't question him further. An hour later, as the horizon began to glow, Ren steered Io onto a game trail deep within the forest.
"There’s a clearing up ahead. Let’s go there."
The clearing was just the right size—not too cramped, but not so large it would attract unwanted attention. Ren let Io roam free and looked up at the dawn sky.
"Well then."
He observed the fruit on a nearby tree. As the morning light touched them, the green skins ripened into a deep, vivid red. He harvested them quickly and tucked them into his bag. The fruit was just a cover, of course, though they would make a nice gift for the household staff.
His real goal was different. Ren, already wearing his new boots, donned the Gauntlets of the King of Flames and tightened the laces.
"Come forth."
He spoke the command to steel his nerves.
A brass-colored sword etched with crimson patterns manifested in his hand. Before obtaining the gauntlets, the recoil of summoning the Flame Magic Sword had been too violent to manage. He had come here to see if the addition of the Asval-reinforced boots would stabilize it further.
"Io, just as I thought. There's no recoil at all."
"Buruu."
Io didn't even look his way, far more interested in the grass at her feet.
He could feel it; the sword was significantly easier to summon now. Pleased, Ren gave it a light experimental swing. A ripple of crimson fire—distinct from the golden flames he’d used at the Great Clock Tower—waved briefly through the air before vanishing. When he swung again while suppressing the magic, the blade moved silently, leaving only a faint afterimage.
If I can master this sword and reach the rank of Sword Saint, I'll finally be where I need to be.
Even with his talent and tireless effort, reaching the pinnacle of the Strong Sword Arts was a monumental task. But he knew from experience that daily training was the only path forward.
His thoughts drifted back to his duel with Edgar, where he had first demonstrated his Master Swordsman Class skill. He remembered the intensity of that fight, back when Ulysses and Radius were keeping their plans for the Clock Tower a secret from him.
"I shall show you! The Strong Sword of a magic user!" Edgar had declared.
Ren had made a bet: if he won, Edgar would take him to Ulysses. In that moment, Edgar had unleashed the true power of a magic-using swordsman. Aside from the twin blades in his hands, he had conjured Ice Blades that were as lethal as any Enshrouded strike. Had the Ren of that time taken a direct hit, the duel would have ended instantly.
"Don't underestimate me, Sword Saint," Ren had growled, refusing to yield.
He had countered the flurry of Ice Blades with his own Enshrouded strikes, but the sheer number and speed of the magical projectiles were overwhelming. Just as the spectators thought he had reached his limit...
"Ngh..."
Drawing on everything he had learned at the Lion Sanctum, Ren’s fighting spirit surged. The training sword in his hand blurred. He stepped into a new realm and swung, guided by pure instinct.
"Haah... haah..."
He hadn't just endured it; he had crushed it. Ren’s sword had obliterated every Ice Blade before they touched him. The power of Star-Cleaver had stripped the magic from the ice, turning the deadly projectiles into harmless water that splashed at his feet.
"Im... impossible... You reached the rank of Swordmaster... so quickly...?" Edgar had stammered in shock.
"How was that? I told you... I wouldn't lose...!"
"It's more than just not losing...! To think you possessed such talent...!"
Ren had won. He could still feel the phantom thrill of that moment—the sensation of his own potential expanding. He looked down at his empty palm. Edgar's strength was the real deal; had the Sword Saint been fighting with killing intent, the outcome might have been different.
"I have to..."
He had to reach that level. He had promised himself he would grow strong enough to protect what mattered. To become a Sword Saint, he had to break through the final barrier. He wanted to feel that surge of growth again, to master the "Strong Sword of a magic user" for himself.
As he looked at his Flame Magic Sword, visualizing his future path, a monster's cry suddenly echoed through the trees.