Stopping Comes First

These days, the nursery at the center of the village rang with the children’s spirited shouts every afternoon. That was the hour when Luiana gathered them for sword training.

Given her past life as a sword demon, one might have expected her to teach something extraordinary. But they were still at the very beginning. Even if it came from a sword demon, the lessons were so simple they felt almost embarrassing to call swordsmanship.

Stand with your feet apart. Never drop the tip of your sword. Look at the empty space, not your opponent. Breathe before you swing, and always stop after you swing.

It was a far cry from the dazzling sword dances the children had first imagined. Yet strangely, boredom never showed on their faces. Their eyes sparkled instead. The five children bit their lips in concentration with every movement, as if the wooden swords in their hands were the greatest treasures in the world.

“Your sword tip is shaking,” Luiana said.

“You’re gripping it too hard. Loosen your hold.”

“If I loosen it, the sword feels like it’ll fall.”

“Not that loose.”

Luiana gently took the child’s wrist. The moment the wooden sword’s angle shifted, the tension that had locked the child’s shoulders melted away.

“A sword isn’t held with the hands alone. Feet, waist, shoulders, breath—they all have to move together.”

The children didn’t fully understand what that meant. Still, every time Luiana corrected a wrist, adjusted a foot, or tapped a shoulder, they felt something inside their bodies slowly fall into order.

Hyacinth watched the scene from a short distance away. Her worry hadn’t completely vanished. Wooden or not, a sword was still a sword. And because it was Luiana teaching them, calling it ordinary swordsmanship felt somehow wrong.

Yet the children’s mana was stable. It was even calmer than before the lesson. Even though the children were excited and gripping their wooden swords, the tiny leaks of mana from their fingertips and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠toes found their proper places with every word Luiana spoke.

That much, Hyacinth could not deny.

That was when it happened.

“Yah!”

A high-pitched battle cry echoed across the nursery yard. At the same time, a sharp mana projectile shot from the tip of one child’s wooden sword.

It looked like wind, but it was no ordinary breeze. The child’s will and mana had been honed thin into a small blade that sliced through the air.

And that blade was flying straight toward another child swinging his sword nearby.

It happened in an instant. The children froze with their eyes wide. Hyacinth gasped. The nearby adult elves moved a beat too late, unsure what to do.

But then—

Slice.

A sound like paper being cut rang out. It came after Luiana flicked her finger once. The pale green mana that extended from her fingertip precisely split the seam of the flying projectile.

The mana blade split in two in midair, lost its power, and scattered. All that remained was a faint current that only lightly ruffled the child’s hair as it passed.

The hair was mussed, but there wasn’t a single wound.

Only then did Hyacinth let out a sigh of relief.

The child who had launched the mana clutched his wooden sword and shrank back. His face had gone deathly pale. It was the face of someone expecting to be scolded. No—it was the face of someone who had finally realized what he had almost done and was now terrified.

Luiana walked over to him. The child’s shoulders flinched. She looked down at those small shoulders for a moment, then simply lifted him up.

“M-Mother?”

“It’s all right.”

Luiana held the child to her chest. She slowly stroked the back of his neck and said,

“You were scared, weren’t you?”

The child couldn’t answer. His lips trembled, and tears welled in his eyes.

“I did something wrong.”

“Yes. You did.”

Luiana didn’t deny it. The child’s pupils shook. But the voice that followed was not scolding—it was calm instruction.

“That’s why I told you to only swing when I’m watching.”

Luiana lightly tapped the wooden sword in the child’s hand.

“Elves move mana easily. If you think strongly, mana sometimes reacts even if you didn’t mean for it to. Like what just happened.”

“I… I was just trying to swing hard.”

“I know. That’s why you need to learn more.”

Luiana lowered her head to meet the child’s eyes.

“This is why stopping is more important than cutting. You have to be able to stop the sword once it’s moving. You have to be able to stop the mana even if it flies out. If you can stop, your friends won’t get hurt. And you won’t be scared either.”

The child sniffled. Hyacinth carefully started to approach, but Luiana gestured that it was fine.

“Will I be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠punished?”

“You’re already scared, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s enough for today. But I want one more promise.”

With tears still glistening in his eyes, the child looked up at Luiana.

“Next time, if the sword tries to fly out first, you stop it first. If you can’t stop it, you can drop the wooden sword. Dropping your sword isn’t shameful. It’s much better than hurting someone.”

The child stared blankly for a moment, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He wiped them once more. Fear still lingered on his small face, but his eyes were gradually regaining their light.

“Can I try again?”

“Yes.”

Luiana set the child down.

“This time, let’s practice stopping before swinging.”

The child gripped the wooden sword with both hands. He took a much slower breath than before. Then, very slightly, he moved the tip of the sword forward—and stopped.

Nothing happened this time.

The child’s eyes widened.

“It stopped.”

“Well done.”

At those words, the child’s face brightened. The other children also gripped their wooden swords and began copying the movement they had just learned.

Stopping rather than swinging. When they actually tried it, it was far more difficult than they thought. And for some strange reason, it was fun.

For ordinary humans, it was rare to fire mana at the basic stage of sword training. Such danger was therefore uncommon. But these children were elves. A race beloved by nature and favored by mana. When strong intent accompanied even unfamiliar emotions, those feelings could unintentionally manifest as phenomena.

What had just happened was dangerous. At the same time, it was a perfect example.

The children had seen why they needed to learn how to stop. And Luiana, too, was slowly realizing that there was more she could teach the children than she had first thought.

The lesson was about to resume when a commotion rose from the village. A few children turned their heads. Hyacinth’s ears perked up. But there were no urgent screams or threatening surges of mana. It didn’t seem dangerous, so Luiana decided it didn’t matter.

She glanced toward the village for a moment, then turned her attention back to the children.

“Your toes.”

“Huh?”

“They moved. Again.”

The children immediately corrected their stance. Apparently Luiana’s corrections were scarier than the commotion. Or, more precisely, they cared more about her instructions.

But the noise did not die down. It grew closer instead. The village elves were guiding someone this way. Some looked flustered, others strangely expectant. At the front of the group was the elder.

When the elder reached the nursery yard, Luiana tilted her head. The two elves standing behind him were strangers. One was a female elf wearing well-fitted leather armor with a longsword at her waist. Her movements were efficient, without flourish. She looked like a bodyguard or a knight.

The other was a male elf. He wore a neat white robe and had a calm appearance. At least, that was the first impression. Right now, panic was far more visible than calm. He kept looking back and forth between the children lined up in the nursery yard, the wooden swords in their hands, and Luiana standing in front of them.

“By any chance… is the Dryad teaching swordsmanship?”

He was so flustered that the question burst out before any greeting. The elder gave a small cough. Only then did the male elf realize what he had done and flinch.

Luiana answered expressionlessly.

“I am. And you are?”

Her tone was indifferent. It held no hostility, but the male elf startled and hurriedly bowed his head.

“Ah, aah! I’m sorry. How rude of me. I am Alex, investigation officer dispatched from the Elf Coalition. This is Seris, who has kindly agreed to guard me.”

The female elf beside him quietly stepped forward.

“It is an honor to meet you, newly born Dryad.”

Both offered polite greetings. Luiana observed them for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m Luiana. Guardian of this village and, as you can see, a Dryad who likes swordsmanship.”

She tapped the sword at her waist with the back of her hand. Alex and Seris’ expressions turned strange at the same time. They looked as if they had heard something impossible.

“A-ahaha. I see. A Dryad who… likes swordsmanship. Yes. That could… happen. The world is wide, after all.”

Seris muttered very quietly, “Wide, but not that wide.”

Alex pretended not to hear. Or rather, he seemed too distracted to hear. He began frantically searching through his robes.

“Ah, that’s not it—the reason we came here is… just a moment. I definitely put it here. Ah, no. Not here. This side? Wait, why is the herbal receipt here…”

After a short bout of rambling, Alex hurriedly pulled out a single sheet of paper. His fingers slipped. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The moment the paper fluttered toward the ground, he bent down with an awkward motion and barely caught it.

The nursery yard fell silent for a moment. The children’s eyes widened. Seris looked down at Alex with the weary eyes of someone all too familiar with this scene. Luiana thought, What a klutz.

But the contents of the paper he finally handed over were anything but light.

Luiana read the paper slowly. Alex explained eagerly in the meantime.

“The birth of a new Dryad was detected by the Coalition as well. Normally we would wait for a messenger from the village before beginning confirmation procedures, but this time the mana wave was so clear that we judged a new home had likely formed. I was dispatched first to assess the scale of support needed. Of course, the official supplies will arrive after the investigation report, but we have already prepared some urgent items.”

“Ten sets of tools,” Luiana said.

Alex stopped talking.

“Pardon?”

“You saw how many people are in the village. Ten sets enough?”

Alex’s eyes wavered. He reflexively looked at Seris. She did not answer for him.

“Ah, well, the standard support plan is calculated based on the initial construction personnel for a new village…”

“We still need to build more houses and reinforce the fence. We were in such a hurry we made space for the children first. Ten sets enough?”

“…I will add a request for more.”

“How many more?”

“About five additional sets…”

“Ten sets.”

Alex closed his mouth. Luiana looked at the next line.

“Basic literacy textbooks for young elves.”

“Yes. That is a required item for any village with children.”

“What about basic swordsmanship and mana control textbooks?”

“Those are usually applied for separately after the village has stabilized…”

Luiana pointed at the children standing in the nursery yard. They held their wooden swords and stared at Alex with sparkling eyes.

“We have children right now.”

Cold sweat beaded on Alex’s forehead.

“…I will request those as well.”

“Two boundary stones.”

“Yes. That is usually sufficient for marking the village perimeter.”

“What about defensive ones?”

“Defensive boundary stones are not included in the standard items for new villages. Those are provided after a danger rating has been calculated…”

“In a village with a newborn Dryad?”

“A Dryad is generally considered the greatest guarantee of safety for a village…”

Luiana tapped her sword.

“I can’t always be here watching, can I?”

Oddly enough, the statement was persuasive. Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again. Seris spoke softly from the side.

“Two more should be possible.”

“Seris.”

“It’s not impossible. You’ll just have to write two more reports.”

Alex looked at her with a despairing face. Luiana didn’t miss the opening.

“Then four.”

“Didn’t you just say two?”

“That was what you two said. I want four.”

Alex clutched the paper to his chest and agonized for a long time. In the end he gave a small nod.

“…I will review it.”

“Not review. Strongly reflect it in the request form.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

Only then did Luiana return the paper. Alex already looked half-exhausted. The corner of Seris’s mouth rose just slightly.

“May we stay for a few days?” Alex asked, barely regaining his composure.

“To accurately calculate the support scale, I need to check the village population, living conditions, and mana flow around the sacred tree. I will conduct the investigation without causing any inconvenience.”

“Fine.”

Luiana called for Hyacinth.

“Hyacinth. There’s that building we made for the village hall, right? Guide them there.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Hyacinth bowed politely, then smiled gently at Alex and Seris.

“Please come this way.”

Alex let out a sigh of relief. He seemed to think the hardest part was over.

Of course, it wasn’t.

Following Hyacinth deeper into the village, Alex and Seris soon stopped in their tracks. They had seen the sacred tree.

They had thought it looked huge even from afar. But seeing it up close, “huge” was not enough. The trunk was as thick as a small castle wall, and its branches spread out above the village like a second sky. The pale green mana flowing between the leaves mixed with sunlight and sparkled softly.

Alex couldn’t close his mouth. Even Seris was speechless for a moment. Hyacinth smiled as if their reaction made her proud.

“Doesn’t it look like the World Tree from the legends?”

Alex nodded without thinking. Seris did not deny it either.

Yet the closer they drew to the sacred tree, the more Alex’s expression shifted from admiration to confusion. Its size wasn’t the only issue. Its beauty wasn’t the only issue. The mana flowing inside it was wrong.

A tree called a Dryad’s companion and a sacred tree was a natural being. Mana entered through the roots, rose along the trunk, passed through the branches and leaves, and flowed back into the forest. That flow was supposed to be as flexible as a river and as free as the wind.

Yes. It should have been.

But this sacred tree was different.

“What in the world…”

Alex felt confusion at a sight he had never witnessed before. The sacred tree’s mana was moving along paths. And they were not naturally formed paths. They were artificially aligned routes—complex and precise, as if they would tolerate not even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a single degree of error. Mana flowed along those paths, circulating without waste.

Alex unconsciously held his breath.

He had seen something similar once, when he visited the capital of the human empire. It was the enormous defensive mana structure that surrounded their capital. The vast circuit network maintained across generations by countless mages and magitech engineers. Even in an empire where mana lamps, communication terminals, and magic drive cars made magitech part of daily life, the capital’s defense network was called the pinnacle.

The mana lines engraved across the entire city interlocked like one massive circuit, and numerous control units constantly corrected its flow day and night. Back then, Alex had purely admired the technology humans had built up.

Yet the sacred tree before his eyes now made that memory seem laughable. Density, output, precision, flow stability, efficiency. The only difference was that the space containing the structure was physically smaller than the empire’s capital. In every other aspect, this was overwhelmingly superior.

In Alex’s mind, the empire’s mana structure changed from the pinnacle of human technology to mere patchwork. A clumsy construct cobbled together to barely hold. In contrast, the sacred tree was the ultimate mana system engraved inside a living tree.

The problem was exactly that. This transcendent mana structure existed inside a Dryad’s sacred tree. Inside the sacred tree of a Dryad born less than a month ago.

It was clearly an artificial structure. If so, who had made it?

There was only one answer. The Dryad who had said she liked swordsmanship. The very Dryad who had just been making children hold wooden swords and then haggled for more tools and boundary stones from the support list.

Alex turned to look at Hyacinth.

“Lady Hyacinth. Has the mana flow in that sacred tree… always been like this?”

Hyacinth smiled brightly.

“Mother did spend several days doing something. We don’t know the details, though.”

“Something.”

“Yes. Mother is a special person, after all.”

It wasn’t an explanation. But when he looked at Hyacinth, it seemed no further explanation was needed. She truly believed it. Mother is special, therefore special things happen. There was no logic there—only faith like an immutable truth.

Alex asked no more questions. Hyacinth guided the two to the front of the assembly hall building, then returned to help with the children’s lesson. What remained were Alex, Seris, and the precise pulse of mana flowing from the sacred tree.

A brief silence fell. Seris spoke first.

“So.”

“Yes?”

“What was that we just saw?”

At those words, Alex’s eyes snapped open. He turned to Seris as if he had been waiting for this.

“What do you mean, ‘what was that’? Seris, that is not something you can simply call ‘that.’ In fact, it isn’t even a thing. Inside a living sacred tree is a mana circulation structure on the scale of a city—or perhaps even greater. And that flow doesn’t clash with natural mana. It actually draws natural mana in, stores it, circulates it again, and aligns it in the necessary directions. This makes no sense. The efficiency is too high. The stability is abnormal. At that density, mana interference should normally cause an internal explosion, yet it’s moving as easily as breathing.”

His words sped up. A little spit flew. Seris took a step back.

“Alex.”

“Yes?”

“Three sentences.”

Alex looked shocked.

“This cannot be reduced to three sentences.”

“Then one sentence.”

“Seris.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Alex closed his mouth. He looked at the sacred tree. The mana continued to flow with precision. Dangerous? He could not answer that question immediately.

If that structure harbored malice and turned its blades against the Elf Coalition? It could be unimaginably dangerous. But there was no reason for that to happen. An elf mother turning hostile toward elves was something difficult even to imagine. Therefore it was also hard to call it dangerous.

Rather—

“Whether I should call it dangerous… or beautiful instead…”

“What if it’s both?”

“Well…”

Seris shrugged. To her, who had little knowledge of magitech, the structure was simply an extremely unusual mana flow. But to Alex, a graduate of the Coalition branch mage tower, it was different. Just from the surface of the flow, he could tell. Even the visible mana currents showed efficiency, stability, precision, and output that could not be explained by either human magitech or elven nature magic alone.

It was believable to call it the ultimate compilation of magitech that a legendary dragon had spent centuries carving. No, even a dragon might not be able to pack circuits so densely inside a living tree and still keep it alive.

With trembling hands, Alex opened his bag. He took out paper and a pen. Then he crouched on the ground almost desperately and began drafting his report.

Seris, standing beside him, asked,

“If you write it like that, won’t the higher-ups lose their minds?”

Alex kept writing without pausing.

“But it’s the truth, so what can I do…”

“That’s true too.”

Seris quietly nodded. Though she often poked at Alex, she was just as quick to accept the facts. Alex continued filling the paper. His handwriting started neat, but as the lines went on it grew faster and more crooked.

Neither Alex nor Luiana yet knew what would happen because of that single report.

At that same moment, Luiana was correcting a child’s wooden sword stance in the nursery yard and speaking with complete seriousness.

“Good. This time let’s practice not falling over after stopping.”

The children answered in unison.

“Yesss!”

Once again, the sound of the children’s battle cries rang through the center of the village.