Shall was incredibly capable.

In every possible sense.

After dragging that tree back, he immediately started cutting it into usable planks.

He had no proper tools besides the axe Lyselle lent him—but he had the Holy Sword.

The Holy Sword was never just a symbol of the Champion; it was a divine blade, sharp enough to slice through iron like mud.

Shall deftly split the wood with the Holy Sword, then roughly assembled the planks with posts he’d driven deep into the ground.

Soon, a simple cabin frame took shape.

It looked crude, but after treatment, it could shield against wind and rain.

The Champion stood before the cabin door, wiping sweat with a satisfied smile.

Then, after two days of hard work, Master Shall heard news that hit him like a thunderclap:

“You mean I won’t get to live in this cabin? What do you mean?”

Lyselle, lounging in an armchair under the sun, replied lazily:

“Exactly what it sounds like—I need you to gather materials with me. And to do that, we must leave the Forest Sea.”

“But…”

Shall’s tone held clear displeasure. He probably wanted to ask why she hadn’t told him sooner—like someone who felt utterly tricked.

Yet Lyselle erased his frustration with one sentence:

“Don’t you want to resurrect your wife?”

“Besides…”

The Sorceress in the armchair turned her head, her beautiful azure eyes glancing at Shall.

“Once we gather the materials and return to the Forest Sea to revive her, you can still stay here. Resurrecting your wife will take time, won’t it?”

Her reasoning was flawless.

Shall fell silent.

He set down the Holy Sword, raised his hand, and cast the Luminous Spell.

For three years, aside from Magic Nullification, the Luminous Spell was the only magic he knew—and the only one he could use.

When someone pours far more effort into one thing than others, they often gain far greater results—even if mastering the Luminous Spell to perfection wasn’t exactly something to celebrate.

Shall compressed the spell’s range while boosting its mana output. The Luminous Spell became a makeshift Burning Spell.

He carefully scorched the new cabin inside and out with this flame. The raw wood turned dark and charred.

Lyselle knew he was preventing insect damage. She wondered why she’d never noticed how thoughtful he was.

But no matter how thoughtful Shall was, it wouldn’t matter. She’d lied to him. After gathering the materials, she’d conjure a fake Priestess, tell Shall, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t save your wife…”, then do a backflip and add, “But don’t worry—I’ve already brought her back to life!”

Then, Shall would have no reason to keep the Master Servant Pact.

Once the pact was broken, he could go wherever he pleased—as long as he stayed out of the Forest Sea.

As for this cabin he’d just built…

Once the Priestess was resurrected, Shall would surely rush her off for their wedding. He’d forget about Lyselle and the cabin. So, this unwanted little house? She’d gladly take it.

Driven by the simple thought—“No matter what, I’ll own this cabin in the end”—Lyselle stopped just watching.

She even pulled out her Magic Wand and started decorating the cabin to her taste.

Shall was surprised at first, but soon accepted her help.

Honestly, with Lyselle’s assistance, his efficiency soared.

Shall handled the heavy labor; Lyselle took care of the fine details. They moved in perfect sync, just like back in the Brave Squad days. Soon, the half-built cabin looked proper, with all the furniture needed for daily life. Only an occupant was missing.

By the third evening, the cabin was finally complete.

Standing before it, both felt a sense of accomplishment. Lyselle even wanted to set off fireworks. Shall’s expression stayed calm as usual, but the slight upward curve of his lips betrayed his true feelings.

Witnessing a home you built step by step was deeply satisfying.

So, Lyselle suggested a celebration.

Shall didn’t see the point at first and refused. But after her persistent nagging, he gave in.

She told him: if his late Priestess loved him, she’d want him to be happy every day—not walking around with a gloomy face, as if everyone owed him money.

Before Shall could reply, she grinned and declared, “It’s settled! Go catch some game. I’ll prepare something special.”

Shall didn’t ask what “something special” meant. He simply took the Holy Sword and headed deep into the woods alone.

Honestly, using his strength and combat skills on the Forest Sea’s naive prey felt like overkill. Soon, he returned victorious: fish from the stream, plump wild chickens, and edible wild greens.

He’d already gutted, cleaned, and strung them on thin vines—tasks he’d always handled back when the squad was together. He moved with practiced ease.

Except…

Back then, a hungry girl would crouch beside him while he cooked, tugging his sleeve and impatiently whining, “Hurry up! I’m starving!”

For Shall, those were sweet, honey-tinted memories—and his lips unconsciously curved upward. But then he remembered the cold truth: the Priestess was gone.

That rare post-loss smile vanished instantly.

The Champion returned to his usual silent self.

He carried the game through the darkening woods to the new cabin.

Night had fully fallen. The endless Forest Sea was swallowed by darkness—no moon, faint stars, pitch-black under the trees. Yet Shall saw a warm, flickering firelight.

—Lyselle had lit a campfire.

The silver-haired, blue-eyed Sorceress sat cross-legged by the flames, idly tossing sticks into the fire. The glow painted her eyes and cheeks rosy, making her look oddly cute.

She seemed to be waiting.

She seemed lonely.

Shall felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he’d seen this scene before.

But before he could place it, Lyselle spotted him:

“You’re back! Quick, come here! Let me see what you caught!”

She waved him to sit beside her.

Shall paused oddly for a moment, then walked over and placed the game on a small table Lyselle had prepared.

He noticed salt and spices ready nearby. Silently, he took them and the Holy Sword, planning to marinate the fish and chickens.

Then Lyselle handed him sharpened sticks.

“Use these!” she said.

“…”

Shall stiffened but took the sticks and skewered the food.

Throughout, he never once looked up at Lyselle.

She noticed but said nothing, just watched him work.

Only when all the food was roasting over the fire did she move.

She scooted close to Shall.

They’d been on opposite sides of the fire, minding their own space. Now Lyselle invaded his side, nudging him with her elbow.

“Why avoid me?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling guilty to your wife?”

She bumped his shoulder casually.

“Relax, we’re just buddies. If eating with me feels like betraying her, just treat me like a brother.”

*After all, I am a man*, she thought.

She didn’t understand his guilt—but it was kind of cute. She hadn’t expected Shall to be this devoted.

He loved her this much? She was so moved.

But Shall didn’t know the Sorceress beside him was his beloved Priestess. Even with her “just buddies” offer, he subtly shifted his legs, widening the gap between them.

Such a small gesture, yet it stung.

Lyselle felt hurt—like he didn’t trust her. She almost cried… well, fake-cried. She just wanted to tease him. Too bad he was too sharp to fall for it.

With a sigh of regret, she switched tactics.

She pulled out the “something special” she’d promised.

“This is rare wine, hard-won from those pointy-eared Elves in the Elf Forest,” she declared, shaking the bottle of pale green liquid. “Ordinary folks rarely see it, let alone taste it.”

Lyselle uncorked it with magic. A refreshing aroma filled the air.

She raised the bottle to Shall, winking.

“How about a couple of drinks?”

[To be continued]

—