The Hero Trained Karen
“I’ll escort you.”
“No, that’s fine.”
Back in Jena von Darius’s office once more. I stared at her in horror as she insisted on accompanying me all the way to the Dwarf City. Sure, having the Holy Knight Order captain tag along wouldn’t be a bad thing. But primarily, she had a duty to protect her territory. And the other issue—the real problem—was the bizarre method she proposed for “escorting” me.
God only knew where she’d gotten it, but Jena was panting hot breaths while clutching a whip and gag. My head spun just looking at her. The letter had mentioned it, but I never imagined she’d actually made the damn thing.
“...What the hell is that for, anyway?”
“To serve you, of course, Hero.”
She snapped back an answer before I’d even finished muttering to myself. I glanced at the bridle in her hand and knew I had to change the subject fast. If I got dragged into this, I might end up riding her—literally—all the way to the dwarves’ village.
“Anyway, any other intel on the Demon Army?”
“Hm.”
Jena’s expression turned serious as she met my eyes. As the lord of a territory near the border, she’d naturally been keeping tabs on their movements.
“Nothing concrete, but there’s a rumor from a merchant caravan returning from the Dwarf City. They spotted moving skeletons.”
“Skeletons?”
A chill ran down my spine at her words. Humans still didn’t know the Demon Army’s full makeup, but having regressed, I had the intel locked down. And when it came to skeletons, only one name came to mind in their ranks.
Lich Bahamons.
One moving skeleton didn’t confirm he was on the move, but with Baal’s name slipping from Lilite’s lips, the lich stirring was a real possibility.
At least Karen’s joining us is a silver lining.
Marian the saintess would’ve been ideal, but I wasn’t sure how much help she’d be against a lich. In the previous loop, Bahamons hadn’t shown up until much later, when the saintess was a nightmare for undead. The current Marian was nowhere near that level.
Luckily, Karen’s skills were no joke even at this stage, and her matchup against a mage-turned-lich wasn’t terrible.
Train her just enough, and she can buy us plenty of time.
“Um, Hero?”
As I mulled it over, Jena called out. She’d already picked up her handmade whip and gag again.
I knew what she wanted, but I shot to my feet.
Time with her wasn’t unpleasant, but prepping Karen to face Bahamons came first.
“Sorry, Jena. We’ll play with that later.”
“L-Later?”
I bolted from her office, leaving her looking utterly dejected.
**
“How does this thing even work?”
“...Please don’t poke it like that. You’ll break it.”
“Relax. I’ll just bill the palace for damages.”
Finding Karen wasn’t hard. She’d ignored my order to stay in her room, but as I scanned the territory, her voice rang out clear.
She was arguing with a merchant. I rubbed my temples watching her.
I knew she was bullheaded from my past life, but with no one else to rein her in, the exhaustion hit hard.
Time to break that habit once and for all.
I’d subtly taken her side in front of the dwarves, but if she kept this up, I’d be the one suffering most. Disguising discipline as “training,” I approached.
“Karen.”
“Oh, Hero. Any idea how this runs?”
She was fiddling with a moving doll. Dwarf craftsmanship was obvious at a glance—probably leaked from their nearby city.
The creepy part? Its unnatural, jerky movements.
“Shopkeep, what’s this thing even for?”
“Beats me. Figured dwarf-made means it’s useful somewhere, so I stocked it.”
I eyed the thing thrashing like a lunatic, then turned back to Karen. The creepy doll could wait; training her was priority.
“Karen, spar with me.”
“Spar?”
I cut straight to it, and she arched a brow.
“Yeah. Your skills might not cut it like this. You need more tempering.”
“Hero.”
Her signature blank face stared me down.
“I lost to you before because I let my guard down. It won’t happen again. You’re weaker than me—don’t lecture me on my skills. It’s insulting.”
I just watched her pout. Not surprising. Karen Cross had been a prodigy since childhood, with the talent to match.
But from experience, she lacked real combat seasoning. Her casting speed and power were unmatched, but she wasn’t battle-hardened.
Pure magic duel? She’d crush Bahamons. Real fight? She’d lose hard.
“Then prove it. You’re not all talk, are you?”
“...If you insist on testing me, fine.”
Her pride stung, she bit out the words. She probably chalked her last knockout to luck and ambush. She’d threatened to sever my arm but hadn’t gone all-out. Neither had I.
“Not here. Somewhere quiet.”
**
“This’ll do.”
We reached a wide clearing outside the territory. Far enough no bystanders would get caught in our fight.
“Fine by you? Let’s go, then.”
Her icy glare said she was still salty about the gut punch that floored her last time.
I didn’t reply—just charged.
“Tch! Sneaky bastard.”
“Sneaky’s fair game in battle.”
As I closed in, she backpedaled and hurled a fireball. I twisted aside; the heat singed even at a graze—direct hit would’ve torched me.
“Harsh for a spar, huh?”
“You won’t die anyway.”
She conjured an ice shard in one hand, her casting speed insane. I scowled and shook it off, kicking up a loose stone mid-charge.
She spotted it flying at her face and flung the ice. They collided midair; the powerless pebble froze solid and dropped.
In that split second, I’d closed the gap.
“Sneak—”
Thud!
I slammed my fist into her gut before she finished. Soft belly yielded under my knuckles; her slender frame folded like origami.
“Guhk.”
“Told you—sneaky’s fair. Gonna whine that to the Demon Army too?”
I loomed over her, gasping on the ground. Pain must’ve been brutal; tears welled in her eyes as she glared up.
“Again. Again.”
Twice with the same trick—she was pissed. I smirked faintly at her flushed fury.