The Paladin Riding a Giraffe (5)

While it was certainly a stroke of fortune that Ludwig had acquired a Mithril prosthetic foot, what he needed most right now was complete rest.

To be precise, he had collapsed the very instant he unleashed that spectacular strike with his new foot. Whether it was from a sudden mana rebound or pure, unadulterated physical exhaustion, I couldn't tell. For now, I carried him back into the cave and laid him down gently on his bed of furs.

"%$#%^"

"Quiet down before I snap that foot of yours clean off."

Roughly translated, he was probably apologizing for causing trouble. I offered him some honey to help him regain his stamina. If possible, I would have preferred to feed him an Inedia Pill, but his stomach had barely begun to recover from starvation, making that a risky choice. It would be far wiser to soothe his digestive tract with porridge for a few days before introducing dense martial medicine. Ppareumbo would undoubtedly shoot me a dirty look for burning through our supplies, but a gentle explanation ought to smooth things over.

Posting the update turned the Gallery into a madhouse. A few lunatics begged for one of their own if they severed a limb, but I cleanly ignored them. What gnawed at me far more was the Juddak's half-playful provocation—the insistence that no matter how weakened Ludwig became, I wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance against him.

My instinctive reaction was to call bullshit, but giving it proper thought, it made sense. The man survived that treacherous savanna practically butt-naked, didn't he? Outside of the Mithrilcon galaxy sword I sent him, he had arrived with nothing. Even setting mana aside, his foundational physical prowess and martial combat skills had to be absurd.

"Krrrghhh..."

"..."

Granted, right now, he was just an exhausted old man dead asleep. Having dramatically blasted out that burst of mana earlier, he was snoring like a chainsaw. Every bone in my body urged me to poke him awake, but seeing how deeply he slept, I decided to leave him be.

In any case, he'll be stuck living at the shelter for the foreseeable future.

Compared to other animals, human beings possessed phenomenal endurance. Our bodies were biologically optimized for long-term survival; people didn't call humans the ultimate adaptive species for nothing. Yet when a body was pushed to the brink of death, it cannibalized its own faculties just to keep the heart beating. In other words, it would take an extensive period of recovery before Ludwig regained his peak martial strength. Add in the time needed to calibrate himself to an artificial foot, and he'd be out of commission for at least a week, if not far longer.

I also need to check whether his stomach can even tolerate the food here.

I had grown accustomed to the local fare after consuming it steadily, but the river fish here were anything but ordinary. Beyond dropping spiritual Neidans, the meat itself was saturated with potent spiritual qi. The first time I ate them, I spent days writhing in bed with excruciating stomach cramps. Ludwig's body was seasoned by decades of knightly training, so he would likely fare better, but you never knew.

Speaking of which, how's that giraffe doing?

The giraffe Ludwig rode in on had been collapsed in a dead faint when I last checked. Having endured the same brutal journey across the savanna, it was bound to be exhausted. I wondered what it was up to right now.

Am I going to have to build it a dedicated shelter?

I had seen plenty of giraffes in pictures and documentaries back on Earth, but standing before one in real life, its sheer scale blew past all my expectations. Even sprawled out on the dirt, its massive torso was several times my size. And then there was that neck—towering and impossibly long, looking entirely surreal every time I caught sight of it.

Its sleeping posture is something else.

Seeing it curl that long neck into a tight knot like a coiled serpent was fascinating in its own right. The real dilemma was figuring out where to house the beast. Leaving it out in the open made it an easy target for nocturnal predators or ambushes. Ludwig clearly treasured the animal, so keeping it safe was the bare minimum courtesy.

Between Ggobongi and this giraffe, I definitely need to build them a proper enclosure.

It seemed high time to embark on a large-scale construction project. I surveyed our surroundings. To house both an oversized ape and a gigantic giraffe, finding an appropriately vast plot of land was essential. Part of me wanted to erect it along the trail Chief Gorilla had smashed open earlier, but that served as a crucial thoroughfare.

Guess I'll have to clear some timber.

Accommodating the giraffe's height meant building a towering structure. I scouted a plot backed by a dense stand of trees and began drafting a blueprint in my head. The width didn't need to be excessive—after all, it was primarily a place to sleep. During the day, they could roam the clearing freely.

I'll outline the perimeter first...

Gathering the sun-dried clay bricks I had stockpiled, I began laying the foundation row by row. Construction of this scale would inevitably involve trial and error. While I had built earthen ovens and small smelting furnaces before, framing an entire building from scratch was uncharted territory. It was bound to take time.

Come to think of it, I need to winterize this place too.

Ggobongi might manage, but the giraffe had almost certainly never experienced a winter. A savanna biome was a far cry from the sub-zero blizzards that ravaged these woods. That meant installing a proper masonry fireplace, chimney flues, and thick insulating walls—at this point, I wasn't just throwing together a stable; I was building an entire secondary cabin.

Ggobongi was flexible enough to squeeze into the main cave during harsh weather, but the giraffe was an entirely different story. That neck was so absurdly tall its head would smash right into the cavern ceiling. The famous line about a creature cursed with a sorrowfully long neck couldn't have been more accurate.

Of all the magnificent beasts on the continent, why did he have to tame a damn giraffe...?

Still, there was no helping it. That very giraffe had carried Ludwig through hell and back to reach my doorstep. Kicking it out was unthinkable. Besides, given the sheer physical mass and brute power a creature of that caliber possessed, it might prove to be a tremendous asset in a fight.

"Kee-eng?"

I was carefully aligning the foundation bricks when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a soft chittering broke my concentration. Whether drawn by the noise or simply swinging by on a routine visit, Father Raccoon had waddled into the clearing. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at the sleeping giraffe whose neck lay coiled on the ground like an oversized rope, then turned his gaze toward me. His face practically screamed: What in the world is that thing?

Watching his bewildered expression, a chuckle slipped past my lips.

"Say hello. That's a giraffe. It's going to be living with us from now on."

"Kee-eng?"

"Search me. I'm just building it a house for now. Anyway, did you bring something good today?"

At my prompt, Father Raccoon extended his little paw, offering what he had brought. It looked like an ordinary yellow wildflower at first glance, shaped roughly like a four-leaf clover. Assuming it was some rare, beneficial herb, I accepted it gratefully. In return, I pulled an Inedia Pill from my pouch and handed it over. His face lit up with a brilliant raccoon grin before he scampered off into the underbrush, clutching the pill to his chest. He was likely rushing back to feed it to his baby. Watching his fluffy tail vanish with a warm smile, I turned back to the stonework.

I'm only laying out the rough footprint anyway, so no need to overcomplicate things today.

Under normal circumstances, I would have mixed and slathered mortar between every layer. But with dusk fast approaching, preparing dinner took precedence. Our headcount had just surged by two mouths—one human and one massive herbivore—making my role as chef more vital than ever.

I am going to squeeze every ounce of value out of that knight once he's back on his feet.

If Ludwig had a shred of conscience, he would repay my hospitality in kind. Having completed the basic boundary layout and foundation stakes, I dusted off my hands and headed back into the main cavern. About an hour had elapsed, and Ludwig, having finished his restorative nap, was already awake and sitting up.

I asked if he had slept well. Seeing that his mind was clear, I seized the moment, picking up my short sword and golden shield.

"Hey. Word on the Gallery is that you're an instructor who trained legendary holy knights. The Juddak and the other forum users won't shut up about it."

"#$%%^^?"

Right. I still couldn't understand a single syllable of his language. Yet from the way his posture straightened, he seemed to intuitively grasp what I was getting at. I usually practiced my forms inside the cave anyway, so I figured I would just run through my standard drills.

"Here. Watch closely and see how I do this."

"..."

Ludwig offered no verbal reply, merely settling back with an expression that said: Let's see what you've got, kid.

In terms of formal martial arts expertise, the man was leagues beyond me. Feeling an unexpected pang of nervous tension, I stepped into the center of the cavern and demonstrated the routine I had repeated every single day.

I've been drilling these basics diligently day in and day out, so it shouldn't look too shameful, right?

...Or so I naively believed.

Ludwig was a veteran instructor who had forged countless elite paladins throughout his life. His discernment when assessing talent was peerless—his crowning achievement being none other than the current Hero herself. Thus, watching Grylls's movements, Ludwig instantly understood the young man's intention. Grylls was displaying his martial foundation, silently asking for guidance and critique.

Ludwig had no intention of stopping at mere advice. He was more than willing to pour his entire soul into passing down everything he had learned over a lifetime. This youth had pulled him from the jaws of a horrific death, cleansed his festering wounds, and even gifted him a magnificent foot of living Mithril. There was nothing Ludwig wouldn't teach him.

...Good heavens.

Ludwig watched in pure, stunned disbelief. Grylls's display was far from mere child's play. His textbook movements were solid enough. But that was precisely where the praise ended.

How on earth has this boy survived? Was it purely thanks to that divine shield?

To Ludwig's seasoned eyes, the performance looked utterly, spectacularly atrocious. He was executing the forms with mechanical precision, yet there was something profoundly, unnervingly grotesque about how he generated power.

In true martial arts, balance across the metaphorical hexagon of combat attributes was paramount. Only when all six vertices—technique, footwork, speed, defense, tactical adaptability, and offensive flow—were harmoniously developed could a warrior react effectively to the chaos of battle. Grylls, however, was a complete aberration. His hexagonal radar chart didn't exist; instead, the vertices for raw offensive output and absolute impenetrable defense had been spiked to the maximum possible threshold, breaking the graph entirely.

His footwork wasn't inherently terrible, but everything about the kinetic chain was... unnatural.

SHHHHAAAAAA!

A dazzling, emerald-tinted aura flared violently along the blade, hissing through the air like a compressed storm.

"How does it look?"

"..."

To compound the madness, the volume of aura erupting from the young man's blade was of a magnitude that defied all sanity. Balanced hexagons and classical theory be damned; Ludwig was struck dumb with sheer bewilderment.

Does prolonged isolation in the Forest of the Four Seasons warp a human's growth to such an absurd degree?

A profound revelation struck Ludwig like a physical blow. At that exact moment, an old philosophical parable flashed through his mind.

So this is where the three-eyed monster lives.

He finally understood the sheer terror and alienation a two-eyed man felt when cast into a realm where everyone had three eyes. The incumbent Hero, Asella, had at least been a two-eyed mortal—she simply possessed vision so impossibly keen it bordered on divine omniscience. Grylls was entirely different. He wasn't just a three-eyed creature; he was a freak of nature who looked as though someone had forcibly welded an extra set of arms and legs onto his torso, swinging a mountain's worth of weight with the posture of an amateur.

...How in the world am I supposed to teach this monster?

For the veteran paladin who had instructed the continent's greatest knights, a wave of unprecedented, suffocating helplessness washed over him.