While Charles was busy in the City of Glory, Lofna waited in Ipoli until her eyes ached with longing.

In the days right after Charles left Ipoli, Lofna truly felt time crawl like years.

Only by wearing Charles’s clothes and lying on his bed could she barely fall asleep.

Not until Charles departed Great Darksend and sent his first letter did she feel a trace of relief.

The letter had been mailed from a grand city’s HolySee branch. Delivered by Netherworld denizens summoned by church mages, it traveled a winding path—first to a neighboring nation’s HolySee outpost near Ipoli, then finally into Lofna’s hands via postal courier.

Inside were simple sketches of a tourist city: an ornate art fountain, neatly paved brick roads, bustling roadside restaurants glowing under night lights, windmills and pastures dotting the outskirts…

Every sketch bore Teacher Charles’s familiar, distinctive picture-book style. The attached letter described the local customs and scenery.

Another half-month passed. Then came sketches and a handwritten letter from a city further west—and a packet of sweet biscuits bought there. They tasted wonderful.

After that, whether every two weeks or a month, Lofna always received mail from Teacher Charles, carrying updates and greetings.

Through these postcards, she tracked his journey.

Last month he’d been in a plains capital; two weeks ago, a bustling coastal republic; now, a port city where ferries docked…

Each landscape held unique charm, utterly unlike remote Ipoli.

These tokens made it feel as if her teacher hadn’t gone far.

She carefully organized every sketch and letter, marking his path on the large continental map at home. She measured the distance between them with her fingers.

Even a gap of one or two finger-widths on the map felt impossibly vast in reality.

In her imagination, she placed herself beside those elegant fountains, in those lively streets, near those noisy restaurants—wishing desperately she were traveling with her teacher.

But she remained in Ipoli. She couldn’t share these feelings with him.

Cross-border mail required applications to major HolySee branches, hefty fees, and high-ranking church mages summoning Netherworld denizens bound by contract to carry parcels.

One shipment cost as much as a self-sufficient farming household’s monthly expenses.

Lofna’s savings—all left by Teacher Charles—were substantial for a commoner. Yet mailing letters to Charles in distant lands would drain them quickly.

Especially with her appetite.

Determined to become a warrior protecting Teacher Charles, she trained daily. Her meals surpassed those of boys her age, straining her budget further.

She realized she could no longer rely entirely on Charles’s care, idle as before.

Peers her age had often married already.

Some toiled endlessly on Ipoli’s barren soil, leaving at dawn and returning at dusk.

Others managed households: gathering fruit, grinding flour, baking bread, washing clothes, raising children.

No one lived easily.

Some even died young from exhaustion.

Only she, at fifteen or sixteen, remained as carefree as a child.

Charles had sheltered her.

But now he was gone.

She recalled his parting words:

*"Use the money I left wisely. Care for yourself as you see fit. Help those in need. Become a hero the people of Ipoli respect."*

She *should* learn to stand on her own.

Yet she lacked Hilna’s magical talent—or her skill in arithmetic, drawing, grammar, debate… During their travels through Ipoli with Charles, Hilna learned swiftly. Lofna learned nothing.

Hilna was a genius even without magic.

Lofna? Even helping her mother milk cows and make cheese earned scolds for clumsiness.

She tried drafting documents, selecting wheat seeds, mediating disputes…

But her painstakingly written documents drew frowns at the crooked handwriting.

Her chosen wheat seeds yielded poorer harvests than those picked casually by seasoned farmers.

As for mediating disputes? People would rather ask her senile old king-grandfather.

She ran tirelessly to help others, like her teacher. Yet her efforts earned at best a perfunctory "Not bad."

They saw her as a well-meaning but useless girl.

Only Hilna and Charles commanded respect.

This hurt.

Honestly, her only edge over Hilna was physical strength.

Plus some martial arts from Charles, enough to wield her Alchemical Dagger convincingly. She knew basic herbcraft, how to set hunting traps, and crude carpentry—that was all.

As she pondered how to honor her teacher’s expectations, opportunity struck.

Recently, wildlife near the Great Swamp grew unusually active. Wild boars, dogs, and venomous snakes emerged from a nearby forest, ravaging crops and causing havoc.

King Ipoli’s solution? Sending two or three guards to patrol and erect scarecrows.

Locals grumbled: *If only Mr. Charles and Miss Hilna were here—they’d solve this easily.*

But they weren’t.

Lofna sensed her chance.

Using Charles’s techniques, she built two or three traps—nearly cutting her hand in the process—but finished them.

Testing them felt promising. Puffed with pride, she carried them to the Great Swamp’s edge to catch beasts.

Only to find veteran hunters’ traps dwarfed hers.

Hers could barely catch rats.

Undeterred, she thought: *Maybe I can ambush beasts near the swamp. Kill them with my alchemical weapon. Earn praise.*

But the swamp’s mosquitoes were relentless. Within an afternoon, bites left her itching fiercely. She fled in defeat.

Yet thoughts of Charles and Hilna reignited her spirit.

The next day, slathered in insect repellent and swathed head-to-toe in thick clothing, she returned. After four or five days of wandering, she finally spotted a grass snake darting through undergrowth.

At the sight of prey, she activated her runes instantly. Her Alchemical Dagger flashed down.

Her first successful kill.

She paraded the snake home, beaming as if she’d accomplished some monumental feat. Her mother, helpless before such pride, offered two quick praises before shooing her off to play.

But this triumph encouraged Lofna deeply. She realized hunting could earn her recognition.

At last, she’d found something she was decent at.

Only while waiting silently for prey, hunting in stillness, could she ease her longing for Charles.

Her stamina, boundless energy, three custom runes, and that potent Alchemical Dagger made hunting local game feasible.

Lofna mastered the craft. She swapped to waterproof boots and a light cloak. She tied her red hair into a ponytail, smeared her face with mud mixed with grass, and stalked ownerless forests around Ipoli.

She’d perch silently in treetops, holding her breath like during Charles’s childhood lessons. When prey passed below, she’d drop like a shadow—runes flaring, weapon crackling with flame and lightning—delivering the killing strike.

It worked.

Her hauls grew: snakes first, then wild dogs, deer, badgers, boars…

Her mother, who’d thought this a childish whim, was stunned by the bounty.

The game brought income and reputation. People began speaking of "Lofna, Charles’s student," praising her as a skilled hunter.

She finally saved enough to send Charles a letter detailing her life—and received a reply. The encouragement thrilled her.

Only her mother worried—fearing accidents in the hunt.

Those deep forests and swamps held ancient secrets. Many hunters strayed too far, disturbed slumbering elder beings, and vanished under curses. Even veterans never relied solely on hunting.

Lofna dismissed it as overworry.

She wanted to fell more prey with her blade.

Because Charles’s letters said: After reaching the City of Glory, Hilna’s talent stunned the HolySee. She gained unprecedented attention, took the legendary Sword Saint as her mentor, and topped her class at the Divine Academy—bathed in adoration.

Hilna’s success sparked envy.

Lofna would prove herself too. With this new skill, she’d show Teacher Charles that *she* could be exceptional.

And hunting earned coin. Enough to keep mailing letters to him.

Finally, one day, chasing a stag with glossy hide, Lofna ventured deep into the shadowed forest.

Lost, she encountered that Fiend.