Chapter 17

"Young man…" Idi glanced at Roland and asked tentatively, "As a mid-level mage, how did you… uh… meet your girlfriend?"

The moment he finished, countless ears perked up. Everyone leaned in, burning to know exactly how Roland had won over this wealthy, beautiful girl—hoping to try the trick themselves someday.

"Actually," Roland said with an air of mystery, "I’m a bard." The crowd blinked, utterly baffled.

"Uh… and then?" Idi stammered.

"That day, I was at the tavern telling… uh… epic tales. She happened to stop by for a drink and was instantly captivated by my moving stories and handsome looks. She clung to me, begging for more. After a few encounters, we just… clicked. Later, I wrote her poems, composed songs—and naturally, we ended up together. Now we’re preparing for marriage."

Right on cue, Silva blushed prettily and playfully swatted Roland twice.

A stunned silence fell. No one had ever imagined a love story straight out of a third-rate bard’s fantasy would unfold right before their eyes.

"I see…" Idi nodded politely, though inwardly he was certain Roland had spun the whole thing on the spot.

"By the way," Roland added brightly, "care for a story? I *am* a continent-renowned bard."

Idi scanned his team—several had minor injuries and needed rest. He nodded. "Perfect. We’re bored anyway. Go on."

"Excellent!" Roland hopped onto a wooden chair, looked down at the crowd, and boomed, "Today’s tale: *A Father’s Love, Steadfast as a Mountain*."

"First, the protagonists. The hero: Kosuke Akitsuki. The heroine: Airi Akitsuki—a cute, tsundere girl with golden twin tails."

Roland launched into the story with vivid flair. Soon, everyone was utterly absorbed. Little did they know—the road was long, the curve not yet reached, and Roland hadn’t even hit the gas.

…

After a description so vivid it surpassed any anatomy manual, several men let out involuntary, excited shouts.

"That’s all for *A Father’s Love*… for now." Roland took a couple of bites of melon to moisten his throat.

The female adventurers flushed crimson. Their once-neutral gazes now branded Roland a pervert, a lecher, a deviant.

Silva’s cheeks bloomed with a faint blush. At eighteen, she’d learned almost nothing about such matters—truly a complete newbie. Only frantic last-minute studying before marrying Roland kept her from total mental meltdown.

"Did you… always tell stories like this?" Silva whispered. She’d known Roland liked risqué tales, but *this* explicit?

"W-well, not always! Mostly proper adventure stories. I *am* a legitimate bard," Roland chuckled.

"Please… try to tell fewer of them," Silva murmured, head bowed, face so red it seemed ready to drip blood.

"Ah—uh huh, got it," Roland replied distractedly, eyes fixed on her flushed face.

"Master! Which tavern do you frequent? I’ll get a lifetime membership!"

"Me too! This story’s addictive—I need more!"

"I’ve heard countless bards, but never one so captivating, so gripping… Ah! A masterpiece! Truly unparalleled!"

"Exactly! The plot twists, characters vivid, emotions nuanced—especially *that* part, so vivid you felt *there*. The clash of morals and desire, the reflection of noble society… sheer brilliance!"

Roland waved modestly amid the praise. "Keep it down. Just an ordinary bard."

"No way—you’re a legend! No ordinary bard crafts *that*!"

"Master, stop pretending to be a newbie!"

"I’m not! I didn’t! Don’t spread rumors!" Roland protested wildly.

"Hey… isn’t it getting dark, Captain? Shouldn’t we move?" someone finally noticed the fading light.

"Right! We lost track of time." Idi sprang up. "Brothers—move out!"

The squad marched onward in a grand procession deep into the forest.

Meanwhile, in a distant grove, a brutal battle had just ended.

Fallen leaves carpeted the ground. Massive trees lay snapped clean in half. Charred scars marked earth and bark; the metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air.

Yenoa slumped against a tree, barely breathing. Blood pooled around her. Wounds of all sizes wept crimson across her body. Without help, she’d bleed out in minutes.

Scattered nearby lay over a dozen black-clad corpses, each gruesomely slain.

After a painful struggle, Yenoa fumbled a pill from her Spatial Bracelet and swallowed it. She crawled into a thicket, tore open a magic scroll—the enchantment swiftly concealed her form and presence—and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Deep in the forest, Silva—marching with the squad—suddenly furrowed her brow.