Morning sunlight streamed through the wooden window, spilling onto the white-sheeted bed. Mio woke from her slumber, opening her eyes to the sight of tender young skin. Aimee, clad in a thin nightgown, hugged her body, her ample bosom pressed against Mio’s arm, emitting soft breathing sounds. This was the dawn scene. If Mio were a man, she might have been thrilled. But alas, she was now a beautiful girl herself. Two girls sleeping together held little joy for her.

Gently pushing Aimee’s arm away, she let out a tiny moan. Mio sat up in bed, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders. After dressing, she went to the well behind the house to fetch water. She dropped the wooden bucket into the well, and a distant splash echoed up. Pouring the clear, icy water into a wooden basin, Mio lifted her long hair and carefully washed her face. For some reason, she performed these tasks naturally—it must have been Teresa’s memories. After drawing water for Aimee’s morning routine, Mio stretched her body in the morning light.

“You’re up early, Mio,” the village chief said, leaning on his cane as he passed by the fence. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Mio replied politely. “You’ve been a great help by arranging this place for us.”

“Hahaha, it was nothing.”

“By the way, we must depart for Seralni today,” Mio said. “We’ve been well taken care of these past few days.”

“Leaving already?” the chief asked with a hint of regret.

“Yes,” Mio nodded. “I need to deliver a friend’s ashes to his family in Seralni. I don’t want to delay on the road. He was a brave soldier, and both his commander and I wish for him to return home.”

“I see,” the chief nodded. “I’ll arrange it as soon as possible.”

After bidding farewell to the chief, Mio returned inside to prepare breakfast. She heated butter in a frying pan, then fried thin slices of salted meat. Finally, she layered the cooked meat and sliced cheese between slices of dark bread—a simple breakfast ready. Just as Mio was about to go upstairs to wake Aimee, she spotted her standing at the top of the stairs, watching. Aimee wore only a pink nightgown, her ample bosom nearly spilling out of the neckline.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mio said. “I was just about to wake you.”

“You really are an early riser, Mio.”

“Early to bed, early to rise keeps you healthy,” Mio gestured to Aimee. “The wash water is in the wooden basin in the yard. Remember to wash your hands and face before eating.”

“You’ll make a wonderful wife someday, Mio.”

Hearing Aimee’s praise, Mio let out a slight sigh. In her previous world, she had been a 45-year-old middle-aged man—a bio-engineered warrior who had to care for his young daughter. That’s why Mio was skilled at cooking and housework. She stared blankly at the breakfast on the table, worrying if her daughter could take care of herself. But they lived apart now; her daughter had moved to a big city for work, and they only contacted occasionally.

No matter the distance, parents always worry about their children—even in another world.

Aimee sat at the table, offering a prayer to her god—the warrior Baldur. Then she grabbed a sandwich and took a hearty bite. “Delicious!” she mumbled, chewing vigorously. Mio sat opposite, taking small bites of her breakfast. Habitually, she wanted to open her personal terminal to check the morning news, but this world had no such thing. So she just stared blankly.

“Mio, your expression always seems so mature,” Aimee said, wiping grease from her mouth. “Especially when you look like you’re deep in thought—it’s very adult-like.”

“At 15, I should be considered an adult in this world,” Mio said. “Theoretically, I am one.”

“But you look very young, Mio,” Aimee pondered. “At most 12 or 13. Yet, that calm, adult expression suits you perfectly. It must be what my master calls ‘aura’.”

“‘Aura,’ huh?” Mio smiled. “I suppose so.”

After breakfast, Mio took the wooden dishes to the backyard to wash them. Glancing casually at the distant watchtower, she spotted Mardel and Penny displaying affection up there. Such sentries were utterly unreliable. Focusing her mind, Mio slightly unleashed the darkness deep within her soul. Black sludge gathered in her hands, forming a small, dark gray drone. Connecting to the tactical network, she brought the drone under her control. Its small rear thruster ignited, and it soared into the morning light.

“Huh? Is that Mio’s familiar? How amazing!”

Mio turned around to see Aimee fully equipped, watching her. She held a wooden sword in each hand—training gear used by the village boys. Though wooden, a hit would still hurt. She tossed the left sword to Mio and stepped into the yard, holding her sword single-handedly.

“This is…” Mio gripped the sword, adjusting to its weight.

“Spar with me,” Aimee said. “Besides, I’d be uneasy if you couldn’t protect yourself. This is personal instruction from the Sword Saint—few in the world get this privilege.”

“Alright,” Mio took a stance. “I’d love to learn your swordsmanship.”

“Oh, this stance is very stable,” Aimee nodded. “Simple and efficient, no wasted movements—very practical. It seems someone taught you swordsmanship.”

“I learned it for certain reasons,” Mio said. “Just a little.”

“Then, let’s begin.”

Aimee launched her attack gleefully. Mio gritted her teeth and blocked the first strike—a simple frontal assault, but the impact nearly knocked her off balance. She parried the second strike horizontally, now accustomed to her opponent’s strength, and held firm.

“Not bad, not bad,” Aimee stepped back. “Usually, new recruits of the Hamodia Swordsmen get knocked down by my first strike. Mio, you’re exceptional.”

“Thank you,” Mio thought sympathetically of those recruits.

“Why not try attacking me?” Aimee said. “Don’t worry, I won’t get hurt.”

Mio exhaled, letting out a small battle cry. She pushed off with her right foot, accelerating suddenly. The clashing of wooden swords echoed around, sending splinters flying. Aimee blocked Mio’s fierce strike, adjusted her stance, and countered lightning-fast. Mio didn’t block; she dodged the blade by a hair’s breadth and slammed the hilt into Aimee’s abdomen. Aimee stumbled back with a groan.

“Ah, sorry!” Mio stopped abruptly.

“Princess, you’re strong!” Aimee exclaimed joyfully. “You didn’t even blink facing my sword, and you predicted its path precisely, dodging with minimal movement.” She rubbed her stomach. “Attacking with the hilt when the blade wasn’t ready—you’re truly battle-hardened.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Mio asked worriedly.

“It’s fine, doesn’t hurt at all,” Aimee reset her stance. “Compared to my master’s training, this is like a tickle. But next, shall we raise the level a bit?”

“Wait, I’m not ready yet.”

“Here I come! Take this!”

As she spoke, Aimee vanished from Mio’s sight. A whooshing sound came from behind; Mio parried blindly with a backhand strike. Her dynamic vision couldn’t keep up with Aimee’s speed. The second strike hit her left hand, and Mio groaned, quickly retreating out of range. Aimee was too fast—beyond human limits. Powerful battle aura enveloped her, greatly enhancing her physical abilities.

Mio knew well that sparring with such a strong opponent without life-threatening danger was a precious experience. She had no intention of giving up. Seeing Mio reset her stance, Aimee smiled joyfully, but it instantly turned to fighting spirit as she attacked again. Mio parried left and right, retreating constantly. Aimee’s strikes were incredibly fast; even pushing her neural reflexes to the limit, Mio couldn’t match the speed. She relied on years of combat experience to hold on. Aimee’s swordsmanship was near-perfect, but at only eighteen, she lacked real battle experience. Mio, having spent most of her 45 years fighting all kinds of monsters and demons, held overwhelming advantage in practical skills. For example, even if she couldn’t see Aimee’s sword, she could predict its path from her movements, allowing effective counters.

Even so, Mio had no chance to counterattack; merely defending took all her strength. The clashing swords drew villagers passing by—most had some combat training. Seeing the two girls exchange blows at astonishing speed, everyone’s faces were filled with shock.

Just then, both wooden swords snapped.

Mio panted heavily, gripping the broken sword in a defensive stance. Her left hand was swollen, with multiple bruises on her fair skin. Seeing the injuries, Aimee realized she’d gotten carried away in her excitement.

“Oops, I got a bit too excited,” Aimee said, looking at the broken sword in her hand and scratching her head sheepishly.

“Thank you for the instruction,” Mio said, catching her breath and bowing politely. “Experiencing the Sword Saint’s swordsmanship without life-threatening danger is truly invaluable to me.”

“Ah, yes, hahaha,” Aimee laughed awkwardly.

The onlooking villagers finally snapped out of their shock. A few young men, utterly captivated, eagerly grabbed wooden swords. But minutes later, all were thoroughly trained by Aimee, lying on the ground unable to move.

In the afternoon, Aimee and Mio bid farewell to the villagers and set off on their journey.

They left the village for two reasons: First, Mio possessed the Royal Selection Orb, whose location could be easily detected by all candidates. If enemies attacked, the village would likely become collateral damage. Second, the journey to Seralni couldn’t be delayed further; Rukhus’s ashes must be delivered to his family. For these reasons, they decided to depart as soon as possible.