Episode 5. Farewell (1)
I stared at the wriggling tentacle—no, the Black Hand—right in front of me and thought,
This has gotta be that, right?
What I had in mind was the tentacles that showed up all the time in the fantasy manhwa I read before getting isekai'd.
Wriggle, wriggle.
Of course, it looked nothing like the ones from back then. No slime or bumpy protrusions or anything. The only similarity was that it was long and flexible. But in my eyes, it was just a tentacle plain and simple.
And it seemed my mentor felt pretty much the same way.
"Hmm... this is completely in the form of a tentacle."
Her murmur made me feel this weird mix of embarrassment. I mean, come on—casting tentacle magic right in front of a beauty like my mentor? Even if she scolded me black and blue, I'd have taken it lying down.
But after that comment, she just quietly examined the Black Hand, offering no scolding or advice. I clamped my mouth shut and waited for a bit.
"Hm. It might look like that, but it seems pretty useful."
She finally let go of the tentacle she'd been fiddling with and said that to me. I couldn't help but blurt out my shock.
"It's... not weird?"
Did she think I was feeling down? She gave me a kind, affectionate smile and answered.
"Magic being weird is the norm, Rike."
Weird was normal? What?
"Let me tell you a little story from my past."
Seeing my puzzled look, she sat down across from me and began recounting her history.
"The first magic I ever used properly was Overgrowth—you know, the spell that makes plants grow fast."
"Yes."
"So, how many times do you think I cast Overgrowth before I could use it right?"
"How many times? Uh... around 500?"
She chuckled at my guess and calmly shook her head.
"Two hundred times a day, every single day, for five years straight."
"F-Five years?!"
"Yes."
I was floored by that insane—no, downright mad—feat. Why the hell did mastering a spell require five years of that kind of lunacy? I'd only learned magic from books so far, so this hit me like a truck.
She smirked at my stunned face.
"Don't worry too much. That's just how long it took me to follow the book instructions perfectly."
"The book instructions?"
"Yes." She nodded and continued. "Magic starts out rough and blunt, then gets honed to fit the user over time."
"To fit the form..."
"No two magics are exactly alike. Even if they seem standardized, that's only when they're forced into a mold. Magic evolves and changes based on the caster's nature."
I nodded, thinking, So if I use this tentacle for naughty stuff, I could block sensations too?
If Aisoret—who snuck into her disciple's bed every night to devour his cock—heard that, she'd probably go, What the hell are you talking about, Rike?! It was that crazy an idea.
But I'll have to try it sometime when I get the chance.
I mean, who wouldn't be curious? Real-life sensation blocking.
Anyway, that was way off in the future. Right now, training came first.
"The duration's still pretty short."
"It'll get better with time."
After that, I kept training under her guidance. For the record, it wasn't the elf breathing exercise from before.
"Huff! Huff!"
"One, two, three—don't stop, one more."
It was just bodyweight workouts.
Made total sense. For tackling rough stuff, you needed stamina and strength above all else. And since my goal was the Labyrinth, skipping exercise would've been the real weird part.
That's what I told myself as I pushed through her intense regimen.
How long had we been at it? Eventually...
"Hah... hah... hah..."
I collapsed on the floor, chest heaving, barely able to gasp for air. No surprise there. Digesting a knight's training—the kind tanks like medieval chariots did—in this little body? If my stamina held up, that would've been impressive.
To be precise, it'd been Aisoret-level monster training, which was nuts. But Rike, still clueless about the world, just figured all knight routines were this brutal.
Anyway, as Rike lay there panting after surviving Aisoret's workout, she handed him some lukewarm water. He wanted cold, but she'd said it was bad right after exercise, so he chugged the tepid stuff desperately.
Gulp, gulp.
Hell, he was grateful for it, spilling water everywhere in his haste.
Watching Rike guzzle it down, Aisoret thought...
Ughhh. Is he seducing me? This has to be on purpose this time, right?!
She was already reliving the countless temptations from training.
Anyone seeing her like that might peg her as some pervert obsessed with pretty boy shota (and they'd be right), but it wasn't weird for Aisoret. Rike's post-workout state? Clothes soaked in sweat, clinging tight to his body—not enough? He was flushed pink, breathing ragged, beaming a sweet smile at her as he spoke.
Sure, hard to see the appeal at first glance. But flip the genders: a busty beauty in sweat-drenched clothes plastered to her curves, flushed and panting, smiling as she talks to you. Same thing.
And for an elf who'd stayed a virgin for centuries? That was way too much stimulus. Normally, you'd adapt after years together, but...
No, it's fresh and thrilling every time!
To Aisoret, Rike's sweaty post-training glow was always new and electrifying. (Aka, always horny-making.)
She wrestled her fantasies—ones she'd indulged a few times already—and calmed her soaked (in more ways than one) lower half.
The culprit himself just eyed his mentor curiously, oblivious.
And so another peaceful day slipped by. A perfectly ordinary, tranquil one.
Haa... this is the life~
Rike loved this peace. Compared to six years ago, waking up amid orcs...
Ugh, hives just thinking about it.
He shuddered, praying this precious routine lasted. At least...
Til I have to hit the Labyrinth. Don't wanna go~
Was it his wish? Rike's idyllic days started crumbling fast.
It started small. Lately, my always-on-time mentor came home late. Not just that—her face was gloomier than usual.
I was puzzled but kept things normal, quiet as ever.
Then, mid-routine...
"Hic!"
My teetotaler mentor stumbled in blackout drunk.
Shocked by Aisoret's uncharacteristic state, Rike rushed over, helped her out of her clothes, and handed her comfy ones.
"Hehe, Rike, undress me."
"M-Mentor, do it yourself!"
"Nuh-uh, not unless Rike does it."
A minor tussle ensued, but eventually...
Dressed in loungewear, Aisoret scooped up her tiny disciple like a plush toy, plopped on the sofa, and stroked him lovingly.
It looked less like petting a doll and more like caressing a beloved—but whatever.
"Mentor, is something wrong?"
After an eternity as her cuddle toy, Rike mustered the courage to ask. She fell silent, buried her face in his chest, and whispered,
"...I think I have to leave."
Her sudden words, after that long pause, were a bombshell farewell.
"Mentor, leave all of a sudden? What do you—"
"Rike, I don't wanna go..."
Rike froze as she burst into tears in his arms. He realized no questions would get straight answers tonight.
But one thing was clear: Aisoret wasn't choosing to leave him of her own will.