A Crossbow for the Boy, a Spark for the Girl
Just as she had promised, Fiona took Logan on as her disciple—but she didn't put him straight into training, nor did she drag him off on any adventures.
However much resolve she'd read in those young eyes, the adventurer's path was still far too long and treacherous a road for a ten-year-old boy.
Even a Gold-Rank Adventurer known as True Flash couldn't in good conscience lead a little kid straight down a road littered with danger.
And so the first role given to Logan was that of the guild's errand boy.
Perhaps it was a test.
A way for Fiona to see whether that desperate earnestness was a momentary whim or genuine, unshakable resolve.
Logan seemed to vaguely grasp her intent—or perhaps he was simply driven by the desperate conviction that he had to do whatever it took for Irene's sake—but either way, he set about his duties without a single word of complaint.
The guild's menial work was endless.
Tracking down a villager's lost cat through every corner of town or wandering the forest's edge in search of specific herbs was considered the easy part. He hauled heavy loads, cleaned up the wrecked guild hall, and even took charge of scrubbing the stable and the privies, which stank badly enough to make him want to gag.
"Oh! Logan, you're extra fragrant today, huh? Kuhaha!"
When Logan returned in the afternoon after finishing the stable, a burly adventurer teased him playfully. The unmistakable, noxious stench wafting from the boy's clothes and hair gave him away.
"Yes, sir. Worked hard shoveling horse dung again today."
Logan wiped his sweat and answered without a flicker of embarrassment. At his unflappable response, the big adventurer just laughed heartily, fished a strip of dried jerky from his pocket, and held it out.
"That's the spirit! Good work, kid. Here, eat this!"
"Oh, no, I couldn't..."
"None of that! You're at an age when you need to eat! Ah—but wash your hands first! Wahaha!"
At first, the adventurers had brushed the little runt off, ignoring him or finding him a nuisance as he loitered around the guild.
But day after day, watching Logan take on the filthiest jobs without complaint and always carry out his duties with such cheerful diligence, their eyes gradually changed.
"Ah, this thing's a pain to carry around anyway... Here, take it, Logan!"
"Huh? Why are you giving this to me all of a sudden...?"
"Just take it! It's pocket money, you brat!"
By now, some of them offered words of encouragement when they saw him, shared their snacks, or even pressed a few copper coins into his hand, calling it an allowance.
Logan's diligence couldn't help but win Fiona's admiration too. Around the time he'd grown familiar with guild work, she began calling him out to the open lot behind the guild whenever she had a spare moment, teaching him the fundamentals.
"Every monster's weak point is different. Goblins are stupid but they come in swarms, so watch out for getting surrounded. Orcs are strong but slow, so going for their flanks or their backs is the way to go."
"When you find a trap, don't touch it right away. First figure out the terrain around it and look for traces. If you're not confident you can disarm it, detouring is your best option."
It began with survival skills—monster weaknesses and habits, how traps were set and disarmed, first aid basics—and went on to basic dagger stances and footwork.
"You're still too young to handle a real weapon properly. Start with this dagger for now. There's nothing to be disappointed about—there's no other weapon that lets you go straight for the vitals this easily."
Swords, spears, and bows were still too unwieldy for Logan's small frame. But even just the dagger techniques and survival knowledge Fiona taught him were like rain after a drought to the boy.
She wasn't some ordinary adventurer—this was direct instruction from Fiona, a Gold-Rank Adventurer, and its value was beyond measure.
What was truly astonishing, though, was the speed at which Logan absorbed it all. Every time Fiona demonstrated a technique and explained the trick of it, he made it his own in an instant, like a sponge soaking up water.
His form was still clumsy, but the speed with which he grasped the underlying principles of each movement—and his knack for applying them—was almost impossible to believe in a ten-year-old.
"Hoo... incredible, Logan. Honestly, it makes me doubt you're really ten years old."
After several rounds of sparring with daggers, Fiona ruffled his hair in admiration.
"Th-thank you..."
Logan blushed at the praise, but inwardly he felt a twinge of guilt.
Because the truth was, he wasn't *really* ten.
He was only now realizing it: his memories of his past life weren't just blurry afterimages. The reasoning ability and comprehension he'd possessed as an adult had carried over intact into this life.
That was the wellspring of a learning ability no ordinary child could hope to match.
*If only my past-life self had been a bit smarter, or had some kind of special skill...*
He felt a flicker of regret, but in the end he decided to be grateful for even this small advantage. And he resolved to dig more actively into the past-life memories he'd mostly avoided dredging up until now.
It was fueled by the hope that he might salvage some fragment of knowledge or skill that could help him in this life.
Then one day, as Logan trained with Fiona in the lot behind the guild as usual, his eye caught a heap of junk piled in one corner.
Rusted swords with chipped edges, bows with snapped strings, spears with shattered hafts—a graveyard of discarded weapons that could no longer serve any purpose.
"What's all that, Fiona?"
"Oh, those? The guild's forge collects them to melt down and reuse as scrap. Why? See something useful?"
Fiona asked with a grin. Logan felt a small pang of disappointment. For a brief moment, he'd wondered if he couldn't pick out a few decent-looking pieces and sell them to the junk dealer for a handful of coins.
As if she'd read his mind, Fiona snorted and added,
"Don't get your hopes up, kid. Nobody would buy that stuff anywhere. They're just lumps of scrap metal, broken beyond saving."
"Really? Still... that one actually looks fine, doesn't it?"
Logan pointed at one object that stood out from the pile of weapons. Unlike the others, it wasn't badly rusted or broken—relatively intact, and made of wood.
"Hm? Let's see..."
Fiona walked over and picked it up. When she brushed off the dust, its true shape emerged.
"Ah, it's a crossbow. Huh... now that you mention it, this one's not in bad shape. Almost a shame to throw it out."
A portable crossbow, its body crafted from sturdy oak with steel limbs—decent-looking enough to be genuinely useful.
"...Why would they throw away something in such good condition? Is it cursed or something?"
Logan asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Hmm... I don't sense anything wicked about it..."
Fiona turned the crossbow this way and that, head tilted. It didn't seem to be made of anything expensive, and there was no magical power embedded in it either.
"Probably... someone just got tired of it and dumped it. Crossbows are trickier to handle than you'd think, and they're not very practical. My guess is some adventurer picked it up out of curiosity, used it for a bit, then shoved it in a corner."
Unlike a bow, a crossbow allowed reasonably accurate aim even for the untrained—but it was slow to reload and weighed a fair amount, so it was never a favorite among adventurers, whose livelihood depended on quick, agile movement.
"Still, it must have cost quite a bit to make... what a waste, just throwing it out."
Logan said regretfully. Even if it was built from cheap materials, its structure was more complicated than a bow's, which meant the cost of making it would have been higher.
"That's what I'm saying... hmm..."
As she fiddled with the crossbow, Fiona's eyes suddenly lit up. Something had occurred to her. She studied Logan for a moment, then strode into the guild building.
"Wait right here!"
"?"
A short while later, Fiona came back out with one of the guild's caretakers. The two talked it over briefly, and the caretaker shrugged as if it were nothing and nodded.
When the conversation ended, Fiona walked back over to Logan and thrust the crossbow she'd been holding straight at him.
"Here. Take it."
"Huh? Why would you give this to me...?"
Logan was taken aback.
Was she trying to sell it to him? Or was he supposed to sell it at the junk shop and use the money as an allowance?
Contrary to his expectations, Fiona just grinned.
"I figured a crossbow is something even that small body of yours could handle just fine. A bow's still too much for you, but a crossbow doesn't take much arm strength."
"Oh..."
Now that she mentioned it, she was right. Loading it would take some technique and muscle, but once it was cocked, even a child's strength was enough to pull the trigger.
"Maybe it was fate that you spotted the thing. Give it a try—nothing wrong with that. Though of course, you'll be paying for your own bolts..."
She added the last part teasingly, then pulled something from the small bag slung over her shoulder.
Short, stubby arrows—a bundle of bolts for the crossbow. Presumably brought out from the guild's storeroom.
"Now, practice with these. I've barely ever used a crossbow myself, so I can't teach you properly... but eh, you just aim and pull the trigger and it fires, right? You'll get the hang of it in no time."
Pressing the crossbow into Logan's hands, Fiona explained the basic operation and safety rules.
Logan's heart pounded at the thought of a new weapon. Fiona's dagger techniques were excellent, but they carried the burden of having to face monsters up close.
With this crossbow, though, he might be able to fight from a safe distance.
"Yes, ma'am! I'll work hard at it!"
Logan answered, brimming with drive. His eyes sparkled with anticipation at this new possibility.
THUNK!
With a heavy impact, the bolt buried itself deep in the dead center of the wooden target.
"Whoa... Logan... you're really..."
Fiona stared at him, unable to hide her astonishment. It was an accuracy almost impossible to believe from a boy firing a crossbow for the very first time.
Within just a few test shots, Logan had grasped the weapon's characteristics and begun striking the target from a stable stance.
"I-is that... good?"
Logan was embarrassed, but secretly he swelled with pride.
"Is that good, he says! You've got a real talent for shooting, kid!"
Fiona ruffled his hair enthusiastically. His speed at picking up dagger techniques had been remarkable, but his knack for handling the crossbow was on another level entirely.
Like a master marksman with years of training behind him, there wasn't a single wasted motion in his movements.
"You know, I think you'd suit a scout far better than a straight-up fighter. Yeah, that's it. Ranged attacks, quick judgment in the field—if you add in information-gathering on top of that, it'd be the icing on the cake!"
Fiona got carried away picturing Logan's future. For a child with his quick learning and a talent for ranged weapons, the scout path was a perfect fit.
"All right! Until your body grows enough to handle a proper bow, let's make this crossbow your main weapon. Bolts are... yeah, I'll pick some up for you now and then."
"Oh, thank you so much! But I feel like I'm only ever leaning on you..."
When Logan tried to refuse out of guilt, Fiona mussed up his hair again and laughed heartily.
"Knock it off, brat! How much do you think bolts cost? You think a master can't even do that much for her disciple?"
The truth was, Fiona wanted to do far more for Logan. Starting with his food and lodgings, all the way to proper equipment and living expenses.
But she held herself back. Handouts born of clumsy pity might help in the short term, but she judged that in the long run they would only rob Logan of his independence and the drive to grow.
In fact, some adventurers in the guild had tried to give him silver coins rather than just a few coppers, and she'd had her hands full talking them out of it.
*This kid can grow on his own. My job is to open the road for him and lay down just enough of a foundation.*
With that in mind, Fiona resolved to steadily supply him with bolts so he could focus on his crossbow training.
What unexpected consequence this would someday lead to—she had no way of knowing at the time.
*A talent for shooting? Me?*
Wrapping himself in Fiona's praise and encouragement, Logan headed home with his heart full.
His grip tightened around the crossbow. Perhaps he really did possess some kind of special talent after all.
*Could it be because of my past life?*
The thought crossed his mind. His detailed memories were hazy—how old exactly he'd been when he died, what kind of life he'd lived—but one thing came back to him faintly: he'd served in the military.
The feel of handling a firearm, taking aim at a target, squeezing the trigger. That familiar sense seemed to carry over seamlessly into crossbow shooting.
*If I keep working at this... maybe one day I really can become a proper adventurer.*
Of course, he was barely past his first wobbly steps, and even if he did become a proper adventurer someday, he'd have to start from the very bottom of the rank ladder.
But to Logan, even that was a hope that set his heart racing.
The power to protect Irene. The ability to give her a better life. The possibility of obtaining it all.
He was walking home with that swelling heart when it happened.
"Logan!"
Irene's voice greeting him was more animated than usual.
Her face, usually drowned in sorrow and anxiety, was glowing, and both her cheeks were flushed bright red.
"Irene? Did something good happen? You look so happy."
When Logan asked in puzzlement, Irene grabbed his hand, unable to contain her excitement.
"Ah, it's...! Logan, come here, quick!"
Apparently she wanted to show him rather than explain, and she led him to the small open lot behind the house.
Irene took a steadying breath in front of him, then carefully extended both hands forward. Closing her eyes as if willing something into existence with her whole heart, she began to focus.
"Look... look at this!"
Fwoooosh—!
Above Irene's small palms, a faint but unmistakable glow bloomed to life. It swayed like heat haze for a moment, then began to take the shape of a tiny flame.
"Is... is that magic?"
Logan's eyes went wide as he stared. Magic, something he'd only ever heard about in stories, was unfolding right before his eyes.
"Right? This is magic, isn't it, Logan? I did it!"
Irene smiled radiantly, as if she owned the whole world, and asked him for confirmation.
Her dark eyes sparkled like stars with joy and excitement. At the sight, a huge smile spread across Logan's face too.
"That's amazing! Irene, that's truly amazing! How did you do it?"
"I don't really know... I just... kept wanting it so badly, and then all of a sudden this happened... hehe."
Irene scratched her head with an embarrassed laugh.
Logan was genuinely delighted—because she'd finally escaped the shadow of those terrible memories and was smiling so purely again for the first time in ages.
And above all, his heart swelled with emotion at the fact that the girl he treasured most in the world possessed such an astonishing gift.
*So Irene... had a talent this extraordinary all along.*
He made his vow once more, firm and unshakable. He had to grow stronger still, so that this brilliant talent could bloom in full.
He would block every danger and hardship, so that she could devote herself to her magic without a single worry.
For her sake, there was nothing he wouldn't do. No—nothing he couldn't do.
The next day, in the early hours before dawn broke.
Logan gazed for a moment at Irene's sleeping face, then quietly slipped out of the house.
In his hands were the old crossbow Fiona had given him and a bundle of bolts. But his footsteps were heading not toward the Adventurers' Guild, but toward the deep woods on the outskirts of the village.
Into the forest, where the darkness had yet to lift, the boy's small footsteps walked steadily toward danger.
