To react so strongly to Ms. Grey’s state… do they know each other?

  The armored woman was unmistakably furious as she observed Ms. Grey’s bedridden form on the temporary bed.

  When she saw her stir awake, I heard her shout something.

  “Ilko!”

  Could that be her name?

  I had a feeling it was, but I also didn’t want to dismiss other possibilities for witnessing someone you know ending up in his state after crashing into a food warehouse, and there were more important things to worry about.

  The armored looked around before storming off. I looked to my summoner, and he looked equally concerned, so we followed her.

  …

  She didn’t walk too far, just another empty building. The room looked similar to the bar we were in before entering the tunnels. There, Ms. Black Ponytail sat alone, using a chair she had taken from a nearby table.

  The armored woman looked pensive, a stark difference from her earlier outburst. I wished to be sympathetic to her feelings, but so much is going on that everything felt chaotic and unpredictable.

  My summoner walked up, initiating conversation. She didn’t reply, but he kept talking anyway. It was a little worrying, seeing him try to console this woman, but I only watched.

  Unsure of what to do with myself, I telekinetically lifted a nearby chair at another table as quietly as possible, scooting it out a bit before taking my seat.

  Even if I committed myself to learning this world’s language, there’d simply be so much more I’d miss out on because I wasn’t fluent then.

  How long did it take for me to be capable of the bare minimum before learning more English? 3 years, maybe less?

  I focused on the exchange between my summoner and the armored woman. She seemed to open up, speaking 1 to 3 syllable responses.

  How many more years did it take to perfect it to my level? 10?

  Damn it. This is going to be quite the commitment.

  Whatever conversation the armored woman and my summoner were having ended, as their focus had shifted to me. The woman stood up and walked over to me, stopping about a foot before my table.

  She then reached out her hand, as if asking for something.

  I only stared at her, confused about what she wanted.

  I gave my summoner a look, and he nodded.

  What am I supposed to give her?

  Apparently, that’s the wrong answer.

  She took my hand, which was resting on the table, and dragged me out of my seat. After a few steps, she took out a knife from her person.

  I reflexively visualized the knife flying out of her hand toward a wall in the room. The knife bumped into the wall before falling to the floor with a clatter. My summoner made an apologetic tone before glaring at me.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The armored woman spoke some syllables as she walked over to her knife before walking over to me, raising her hands as if surrendering, holding the knife in her hand. She stopped before slowly kneeling and carving into the wooden floor with that knife.

  I looked to my summoner, who casually walked over to observe the woman’s carving, standing beside her crouching figure. I focused on the knife, preparing visualizations in case she did something weird. After 30 seconds of carving and my summoner admiring her work, I reluctantly walked up to see what the armored woman was carving.

  The carving in the floor depicted a spear. I recalled the spear next to her terrified form before she had to rescue me from the man in the storm’s assault. It had a peculiar design, but I didn’t give that much thought since there were bigger things to worry about.

  Does she want me to make a spear?

  I looked at the woman’s face. Her eyes changed when she shifted her focus from her carving to me.

  I pointed to the carving for confirmation before making a replica of her knife.

  She looked surprised before regaining her stoic expression and nodding.

  Alright.

  I recalled the spear I saw moments ago. Since I didn’t know how it was made, I asserted my own understanding of its construction.

  The spearhead was sharp and had a shiny, metallic look to it. The part where the handle and spearhead met was cross-shaped, and the handle had a perfectly matching, cross-shaped slot. The cross-shaped protrusion fit perfectly in the slot, but it was by own means stable. To reinforce this, a sturdy piece of metal was melted to make it easier to bend, but not enough to melt it. This piece was bent and wrapped into a circle as tightly as possible around where the spearhead and handle met. Then the metal cooled, and firmly gripped around where the protrusion and slot met.

  It looked a bit different from what I remembered the spear looking like, but it was the best I could think of for a reliable spear wielded by someone who uses them as a weapon. Any quicker, and I might have sacrificed efficacy for creation speed.

  The woman took the spear, inspected it, and then smashed it into the ground, splintering the wood I created for the spear’s handle.

  It was a little upsetting, but then again, a warrior who’s used a weapon for a long time would know its reliability well. I held my complaints as I observed the woman toss the broken spear away.

  Did I not focus enough on the wood?

  I’ve seen plenty of weapons in my past life, and I’ve got some idea of how they’re wielded by their respective wielder, but it didn’t mean I knew what a weapon’s supposed to feel like for its wielder. People who see a weapon as an extension of their own body, people who dedicate their lives to a weapon’s mastery, someone you can just look at and know they’re not somebody to mess with.

  I tried again, this time using my impression of a tougher, more durable wood. She picked it up and immediately grimaced.

  Forget this. I can’t make that meet her standards if I don’t know what those standards are.

  The woman took the spear before walking to a more open area of the room we were in, holding the spear I created in front of her.

  She then made a series of movements I couldn’t follow, twirling and maneuvering the spear around her body at blurring speeds. The spear was to her left, then her right, then behind her. All of a sudden, it was above her, before stopping with her in a pose ready to thrust the spear forward.

  What the…

  The movements were impressive for a performance, but I failed to see any conceivable combat applications. They’re just elaborate ways of stabbing or slashing with a blade at the end of a long stick, right? Maybe it’s an intimidation tactic for those who don’t know how to fight?

  She lowered her spear before turning to me. Her eyes held a fiery gaze. For a moment, I felt she was analyzing me, looking for weaknesses she could take advantage of with her own strength. I felt my heart sink for a bit when I met her gaze. It wasn’t murderous, just a calculating look that determined it wouldn’t be difficult for her to kill me.

  Her expression instantly shifted to something more cheerful, and she spoke some syllables in an apologetic tone. I wondered if this was a common occurrence in her life.

  It was difficult to see this woman as trustworthy or a threat.

  The unusual atmosphere was interrupted by a student storming into the room we were in, shouting something at the top of his lungs. I cringed in discomfort at his volume.

  Whatever was announced got the armored woman to run out of the room we were in. Like before, my summoner and I followed after her. What we saw stopped us in our tracks.

  The swirling storm in the sky had descended and was now ravaging the buildings and roads, gathering debris from the destruction it had caused to use as ammunition.