With newfound wealth, spending was only natural.
Leaving his purse bulging made Derek physically uncomfortable.
Strolling through streets was out of the question—Dakelos was gripped by drought, its districts devoid of lively markets.
Instead, he visited Sterga Trading Company’s local branch, summoning the manager to discreetly purchase a batch of alchemical herbs.
These were for Sophia.
Though Sophia’s potential was merely Rank R compared to Teresia’s SSR, she’d awakened her magic earlier. At this growth rate, Derek felt she’d soon be ready to use them.
He even commissioned Sterga to procure ingredients for the potion detailed in Hohenheim’s Alchemical Notes.
Those particular herbs were rare; waiting until needed would waste precious time.
Derek never hesitated to invest in Sophia.
Even after sudden riches, he kept his eyes on the future~
Nurturing Sophia well would lay a solid foundation for his commercial empire!
Once the protagonist’s party gained momentum later, crushing the Witch Cult and lifting his curse, Derek could finally sit in his CEO’s office, bellowing commandingly…
“Sugar mama, support me~”
Ahem. Slip of the tongue. “Sugar mama, repay me.”
How could repayment be called *support*?
Both he and Sophia were perfectly decent people.
After splurging on herbs, Derek bought personal items too.
The Dakelos manor had ample daily necessities but lacked training facilities.
Not surprising—only Duke Wudewen would extravagantly build a private arena in his backyard.
For better practice, Derek acquired an alchemical magic dummy—a punching bag that took hits.
While blasting spells wildly in an open field worked, he wasn’t a destructive man. A target made training look far more elegant.
When Sterga’s manager finally beamed with satisfaction, Derek’s shopping concluded.
On the carriage ride back, he spotted a pastry shop and called for Xinzel to halt.
He didn’t particularly love sweets, but lately, seeing such treats always conjured one phrase in his mind…
*pig feed*.
*Sigh*. Buy it anyway.
He was rich now. With two years until returning to the Royal Capital for studies, unreasonable spending was practically necessary—leftover cash would be awkward to handle.
…
Back at the residence, Xinzel carried the magic dummy to the courtyard after Derek disembarked.
Derek headed toward the mansion, pastry box in hand.
Perhaps sensing his return, Teresia and Sophia emerged to greet him—both in crisp maid uniforms.
Sophia remained shy, but etiquette lessons from Xinzel had refined her aura. Quiet and obedient, she looked every bit the lady.
Teresia was unchanged: well-fed and well-rested in Dakelos, bursting with energy!
Though she seemed slightly drowsy stepping outside.
The moment she spotted Derek, Teresia froze. Her gaze grew tender…
“Young Master Derek~”
Arms wide, she lunged at him!
For some reason, an old woman’s famous chant flashed in Derek’s mind—*“Back! Back! Back!”*
Rejecting Teresia’s warmth felt cruel, but he knew her target wasn’t him.
Derek set the pastry box on the ground and instinctively stepped back.
Teresia glanced at her master, then the food. Swallowing hard, she made her choice…
She opened the box, gazing at the delicate pastries. A delighted “Hehe~” escaped her lips, her grin stretching ear to ear.
Truly his Holy Maiden—more ruthless than her master. Food made her ignore her provider entirely.
Once again, concerns for our Holy Lady’s future arose…
…
With everything settled and life stabilized in Dakelos, Derek settled into daily training.
He knew this world’s future hinged on the clash between Leon Lancelot and the Witch Cult.
Derek never planned to join that fight, but survival demanded strength.
Lightning crackled, sparking against the courtyard dummy. Derek exhaled, sat down, and resumed meditation.
Nearby, a freshly fed Teresia wiped her mouth. Her eyes lit up!
She’d grown fascinated by Derek’s flashy magic earlier.
From behind a tree, Sophia peeked out, her gaze fixed on Derek.
As she watched, her eyes grew dreamy.
Unsure if infected by Teresia or something else, her expression suddenly turned blissful. Unconsciously, she let out a soft “Hehe~.”
Inside the mansion, Xinzel observed the courtyard.
His solemn gaze lingered on the meditating Derek, as if making a decision…
…
His mana nearly replenished, Derek opened his eyes. He rose to blast a few more spells at the dummy—only to find someone standing before him.
“Xinzel? What is it?”
Derek asked cautiously.
Facing a Gold Rank Assassin, respect was mandatory. No—*awe* was essential to avoid a “justified backstab.”
“My apologies for interrupting your training,” Xinzel said gravely. “But I must ask… Young Master Derek, would you be interested in learning martial arts from me?”
Derek froze.
One glance confirmed Xinzel’s dead-serious expression. No joke.
Was he truly offering to teach martial arts?
Combat here split into magic and martial paths.
(Though Sophia’s item-throwing style wasn’t mainstream—more like reckless spending than fighting.)
Magic channeled mana through incantations to create supernatural effects.
Martial arts encompassed *battle arts* and *battle techniques*.
Battle arts were foundational—using internal mana circuits to strengthen the body.
Battle techniques refined combat skills.
Specific arts paired with specific techniques created explosive synergy: that was a battle technique.
Think of battle arts as a warrior’s internal energy, techniques as their ultimate moves.
Together, they formed a martial style.
Derek’s physical stats—strength, agility, stamina, defense—were decent. But in his past gaming life, he’d been a pure mage.
Back then, he’d crushed protagonist parties with magic alone—no need for close combat.
He’d never seen *himself* charge into melee. Why was he suddenly triggering a martial arts subplot?
Had his meddling created this opportunity?
How should he choose?
*Learn!*
Why not?
Without a second thought, Derek agreed.
Forget Xinzel’s terrifying slaughter speed at the Huuf mansion—even his tree-climbing stealth at the Duke’s estate was impressive.
If trouble came and spells failed, martial arts from Xinzel would make a swift escape *very* smooth!
