If a sword is tempered to utter hardness, it can be counted among the finest of blades. Yet this one was simply too large—so large that even when Glenn transformed into a seventh-rank werewolf, it still felt unwieldy in his grip.

  Dalov, seeing Glenn’s frustration, claimed he could resolve the issue.

  He began inscribing dense, intricate runes across the crimson greatsword, murmuring long strings of arcane incantations as the symbols flared and dimmed.

  When the spell was complete, Dalov said, “I’ve imbued the sword with a size-alteration enchantment.”

  With a flick of his hand, the greatsword rose into the air, drifting toward him as it steadily shrank, until it stood only slightly taller than Dalov himself.

  “This is the limit. I can make it no smaller,” Dalov informed Glenn.

  Dalov stood about one meter seventy-eight, so the greatsword’s minimum size should be around one meter eighty.

  “This is more than enough.” Glenn was thoroughly satisfied. Even if he never sold it, he could use it himself—and for now, that was exactly what he intended to do.

  Taking the now-scaled-down blade, he swung it experimentally. The weight, too, had lessened, making it far more manageable.

  Dalov continued, “I’ll also teach you the incantation engraved upon the sword. From now on, you can adjust its size as you see fit.”

  Glenn’s delight deepened.

  Dalov pointed toward him, and an oddly twisting incantation surfaced directly within Glenn’s mind.

  Glenn tried reciting the enlargement spell—immediately, the sword in his hand swelled in size.

  Then he murmured the shrinking spell, and the blade diminished again, down to its limit.

  “Thank you, Master! This helps me immensely!”

  Glenn’s gratitude was sincere.

  Dalov merely stroked his beard and chuckled.

  They chatted a while longer beside the caravan before Glenn returned with Dalov and the apprentices to the mage’s tower.

  Glenn explained that he intended to return to Bayek; Dalov was unsurprised—by now, Glenn was already several days behind schedule.

  “Your control over your mana has improved remarkably. This will greatly hasten your future progress. But remember—always remain humble. Magic can be dreadfully tedious at times; without patience, even the greatest talent is squandered. Do you understand, Glenn?”

  Dalov’s tone carried the weight of farewell guidance.

  Glenn listened earnestly and nodded when Dalov finally questioned him.

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  So Dalov continued:

  “You’ve already learned most of the essential basics. They are enough for you to delve into purification magic. How long it takes you to reach the rank of First-Circle Mage now depends entirely on your own efforts.”

  Meike added, “If there’s anything you truly cannot grasp, return here. We will guide you.”

  The two mages said no more. After Glenn assured them he remembered everything, he gathered his belongings and departed the tower.

  The apprentices lingered on the balcony, reluctant to see him go—after all, once Glenn left, they would have no more stories to listen to.

  Leaf and Mushroom burst into tears, wailing for Glenn to return soon.

  Glenn was genuinely touched by how unwilling the two little girls were to part with him. He promised them again and again before stepping beyond the protective ward.

  The caravan was already prepared. Glenn approached and asked the male elf for his name.

  He was called Kael. Raised in the wastelands since childhood, he had honed formidable survival skills, his strength equivalent to a second-rank extraordinary.

  As for the others, Glenn wasn’t inclined to question them now—he could grow familiar with them in due time.

  The caravan rumbled forth, and by the afternoon of the fourth day, they reached the outskirts of Bayek.

  Just as they were about to enter the outer forest, a sudden series of thunderous crashes erupted from within.

  Kael and the others tensed instinctively, weapons half-raised—only to see a massive black creature burst from the trees, its appearance ferocious, every tangled fang radiating a chilling menace.

  Kael was about to shout a warning when what happened next nearly threw him off his horse.

  The terrifying beast skidded to a halt before Glenn’s giant stag, tongue lolling, rubbing its enormous head affectionately against Glenn.

  So… it was Glenn’s pet.

  This was the unanimous thought filling Kael’s group.

  Glenn pushed Night-Howl away with one hand, his expression odd. “Where did you learn that from?”

  Though Glenn occasionally called Night-Howl a “big dog,” the creature’s nature was nothing like a canine. This behavior was baffling.

  Night-Howl whined twice, conveying its explanation.

  Glenn’s face darkened. It turned out that during his absence, Night-Howl had been serving as a mount for Tia and the others. Once, in Dood Town, it had seen a dog charming its owner and decided to imitate it.

  “You’re not a dog. Don’t mimic dogs again—where’s your dignity?”

  Night-Howl immediately straightened its posture, whining again to admit that yes, it also felt ridiculous, but the girls who often came to play simply adored it.

  “You mean Lela and Bonnie? They actually come here to play?” Glenn was speechless. After a pause he added, “Fine, then only act like that for them.”

  Night-Howl’s upright ears drooped in defeat.

  Glenn patted his companion’s neck and led the caravan into the outer forest of Bayek.

  He arranged for the caravan to wait by the roadside, then told Kael to hold position while he went on ahead toward his farm.

  After all these days away, he wondered how well they had managed things. Even though he had given thorough instructions before leaving, worry still nudged at him.

  Soon, his keen hearing picked up the bawling of livestock—and the voices of the elf maiden, Laviel, and Tia.

  Nothing seemed amiss when he finally saw the farm… except for the fact that the three who were supposed to be managing it were busy teasing a ram. As their employer, Glenn felt a flicker of irritation.

  A thoroughly provoked ram was chasing Gotaya across the pen. The elf maiden wore a serene smile as she danced lightly around its charges, dodging with effortless agility.

  Laviel and Tia, posted outside the fence, served as enthusiastic spectators, clapping and cheering each time the elf evaded a charge.

  “My turn! My turn!” Tia suddenly cried in excitement.

  Gotaya leapt out of the pen, and Tia scrambled inside, ready to antagonize the unfortunate ram again.

  “You three certainly know how to entertain yourselves.” Glenn’s voice drifted toward them.

  All three turned simultaneously, surprise flashing across their faces.

  Tia’s delight was instant—she was about to vault out of the pen and give Glenn a huge hug—

  —but the ram seized the opportunity and rammed her squarely from behind.

  The little maid yelped as she was sent tumbling across the ground, smeared head-to-toe in dirt.