“Are you ready?” Leana is already waiting at the southern gate.

  Behind her stands a black-and-white striped spider with a fully loaded saddle.

  Teddy looks like a zebra.

  I had promised myself not to comment on names in this world anymore—but this is just wrong. No matter how I look at it.

  Also… how is it possible that Leana is always waiting at the gate ahead of us, looking like she’s been standing there forever? We were fast. We barely did more than chew on a strip of dried meat while packing so we could leave immediately.

  “We have everything. We’re ready,” Rin answers beside me.

  “Good. Then mount up and follow me,” Leana replies evenly.

  “For now, we will simply follow this forest path. What happens after that will depend entirely on you.”

  I hate ominous statements like that—the kind where you already know something is going to go wrong later.

  But it’s also so cliché that it makes me curious.

  No adventure ever starts without a sense of impending doom.

  With that thought, I climb onto Ares, and we follow Leana into the Elven Forest.

  It is deadly boring.

  We’ve been following this forest path for over an hour now. Every now and then there’s a turn to the left or right—but that’s it. Even a highway drive is more exciting than this.

  I would kill for a good book or my Game Boy right now.

  Rin and Leana haven’t spoken much either. Leana stares stoically at the path ahead, while Rin gazes dreamily at the sunlight filtering through the green canopy above, giving the forest an almost mystical glow.

  I have enough social awareness not to interrupt them.

  But I’m bored.

  Ares seems to sense my boredom. Suddenly, he starts zigzagging wildly, hopping up and down without warning.

  It’s incredibly fun. Like a children’s ride at an amusement park.

  As a reward, I pat his head, and he lets out a soft purring sound.

  I am never getting back on a horse again.

  Especially since I still haven’t fully recovered from my trauma during the journey to the Elven Forest.

  Thanks to Ares’ exclusive entertainment program, time flies by. I skillfully ignore Leana’s irritated glances and Rin’s annoyed stare.

  At a fork in the path, Leana suddenly stops and turns toward us, her expression serious.

  “From here on, the true trial begins,” she says.

  “This path leads us to our destination—a crystal-clear lake deep within the Elven Forest called Overcoming the Self.”

  “For centuries, this lake has served as a trial site for our people. Any elf who wishes to take on a position of responsibility must first face this test.”

  “You will undergo the same trial to prove yourself worthy of our trust.”

  She grows even more rigid than usual.

  I nod, my stomach tightening.

  “This right-hand path will become exhausting and dangerous. We will be attacked constantly by monsters, and restful sleep will be unlikely.”

  “If all goes well—and we survive—we should reach the lake in two days. There, completely exhausted, you will face the trial of Overcoming the Self, overseen by Myrula the mermaid.”

  Wait.

  Did she just say Myrula the mermaid?

  I’m meeting an actual mermaid?!

  I can barely contain myself.

  Mermaids in fantasy stories are always breathtaking beauties, wearing little more than a bikini top over their generous chests, with a fish body from the waist down ending in a powerful tail.

  This is an opportunity I cannot miss.

  Ever since I first read about mermaids, one question has haunted me:

  How do mermaids reproduce?

  Even if mermen exist—which isn’t always the case—do mermaids have… openings… in their fish half? Does the word maiden in their name just mean young woman? Do they give birth like humans—or do they spawn like fish?

  Maybe it’s like turtles, laying eggs on land?

  Please don’t let it be something lame like “born from magic and sea foam.” That’s just as much of a cop-out as the stork story for babies.

  Suddenly, it’s quiet.

  I snap back to reality.

  Leana is staring at me. She’s clearly finished explaining and is waiting for a response, her gaze tense and expectant.

  Damn it.

  I didn’t listen to a single word after mermaid.

  The silence is unbearable.

  I pretend to think.

  My eyes dart helplessly toward Rin, but she only looks annoyed and shakes her head.

  No help there. Thanks for nothing.

  I can’t ask her to repeat herself now.

  Think. What does a hero say in moments like this?

  Of course.

  I need to boost morale.

  “Don’t worry,” I say confidently.

  “We’ll overcome the difficult path. No matter what dangers lie ahead, I’ll be there—and I’ll protect you.”

  Leana looks at me with wide gray eyes, clearly impressed.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  That feels really good.

  Rin shakes her head in disbelief.

  I refuse to let her ruin my heroic moment.

  Ignoring Rin completely, I keep looking into Leana’s admiring eyes. Fired up by my own speech, I signal Ares and ride ahead—down the path that will lead me to my mermaid.

  Leana and Rin follow shortly after.

  The forest grows quiet.

  The birdsong has long since faded.

  “It’s starting.”

  At my signal, Ares leaps into the air and lands on a nearby tree trunk. I grip the saddle with one hand to keep from falling.

  At the spot where I stood moments ago, a small green goblin lands—dressed in filthy rags, wielding a rusted sword.

  He had been hiding in the treetops, planning an ambush.

  Now he has an arrow between the eyes and collapses with a wet gasp.

  Leana hasn’t lowered her bow. Rin has her staff raised.

  Where there’s one goblin, the rest of the horde is never far behind.

  Goblins are cowards. They never attack alone.

  I draw my sword and listen.

  A moment later, rustling erupts all around us.

  Forty goblins charge the forest path.

  We’re surrounded.

  Since the ambush failed, they try to overwhelm us with numbers.

  Arrows fly.

  Rin freezes ten goblins in place with an ice spell. Stone projectiles shatter them into countless pieces.

  She’s absurdly strong.

  Meanwhile, Ares launches off the tree trunk, landing directly in front of fleeing goblins. I jump from his back and cut down five of them with a few clean strikes.

  Since my lesson with my half-hour master, I’ve been training my technique relentlessly.

  When I look around again, the fight is already over.

  Goblins litter the ground—some pierced by arrows, most burned, frozen, crushed, or cleanly cut in half.

  I feel unnecessary.

  Once again, I’m reminded just how powerful magic is in this world.

  Rin is a monster.

  ***

  Only toward evening—after we’ve dealt with countless goblins, wolves, several ogres, and a few spiders—does Rin finally grow tired.

  The spiders worried me at first. But after Ares bit into one of his own kind without hesitation, my concerns vanished.

  Rin has to manage her mana now, giving me more chances to shine.

  During the last fight, an ogre charged us like a berserker, swinging an entire tree trunk. I ran straight at him, dodged elegantly, slid between his legs, severed the tendons—and when he dropped to his knees, I took his head.

  Moments like these make me feel like a real adventurer.

  Leana was clearly impressed.

  Rin, however, told me to stop showing off.

  I had moved too far from the group and left her exposed in the rear as a ranged fighter. New enemies had already been dangerously close.

  No problem. I’ll save you.

  After nightfall, we find a suitable clearing to camp.

  All three of us are completely spent. I underestimated just how brutal the constant fighting on the hard path would be.

  Thank goodness for my superhuman constitution.

  Rin and Leana can barely keep their eyes open.

  “I’ll take the first watch and cook something,” I say.

  “You two rest.”

  Gratefully, they collapse by the fire.

  I cook a stew using ingredients from my saddlebags—potatoes, onions, bacon, carrots, and peas. I really should pick up the Cooking skill soon if I want to make more elaborate meals.

  The stew tastes faintly like home.

  As a kid, I hated stew and threw tantrums at the kitchen table. Nothing beats pasta with ketchup, was my motto.

  Thinking about it makes me nostalgic.

  Focus. Stay alert.

  They’re counting on me.

  While we eat, I finally say what’s been bothering me all day.

  “Rin, you shouldn’t overdo it with your magic all the time. You’re completely spent by evening. You need to make sure you don’t run out of mana when it really matters.”

  She looks up from her stew and grins.

  “Could it be that you’re just incredibly jealous of my magic, like always?”

  What a vile accusation!

  I’m offended.

  Mostly because she’s absolutely right.

  “All day long you stole the spotlight,” I protest.

  “I’m not jealous. I’m just worried you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “Is that so?” she asks, leaning forward.

  Cold sweat pours down my back.

  Rin can be terrifying.

  After teasing me long enough, she smiles shyly and whispers,

  “If that’s true, I’ll be more careful from now on. Thank you for worrying about me.”

  I know the insight is fake, but I let it go.

  She’s too cute in this moment—and I don’t stand a chance anyway.

  Besides, if the conversation continued, I’d have to admit she completely overshadowed me.

  We finish our stew in silence.

  Leana hasn’t said a word the entire time. She watches us intently, her expression stoic.

  It’s just our normal banter.

  She’s taking her role as observer way too seriously.

  I feel like a lab rat.

  With warm food in their bellies, both women fall asleep instantly.

  Only their steady breathing and the crackling of the fire break the silence.

  The stars are beautiful.

  You never see stars like this in a modern, brightly lit city.

  Come to think of it, I’d never really gone camping before. One night in a tent in the backyard doesn’t count.

  My family preferred package holidays with ocean views. We spent several summers on Italian beaches.

  Still, sleeping under the stars has its charm.

  Too bad I had to die to experience it.

  ***

  “Wake up,” I whisper, gently shaking Rin and Leana.

  They’re groggy at first, then instantly alert.

  “Enemies approaching from the north and south,” I report.

  “Judging by the footsteps, around fifty goblins and a few ogres.”

  “I can’t protect both sides alone. Rin, you’re low on mana. Can you still slow down the northern group?”

  “Leave it to me,” she says.

  “If I restrict my ice magic to their legs, it should work.”

  I nod.

  “Leana, move freely and support both fronts if needed. Stay in the back. Prioritize covering Rin.”

  “Understood.” She salutes.

  A true elven warrior.

  “I’ll handle the southern group. Ares and Teddy will support me. Butterblume stays here.”

  The roles set, we move immediately.

  The first goblins break from the forest.

  I sprint south, cutting down goblins left and right.

  Ares and Teddy ensure nothing slips past us toward the camp.

  Ogres are tougher—but Ares immobilizes them with silk, and I finish them off without resistance.

  The south is clear.

  Time to help the others.

  “We’re heading back.”

  The spiders turn instantly. I mount Ares, and we race back at full speed.

  The closer we get, the louder the battle sounds.

  Rin and Leana are in trouble.

  The clearing is chaos.

  Rin and Butterblume hold the center, barely keeping the monsters at bay.

  More creatures than expected—spiders and wolves have joined the horde.

  I overestimated Rin’s reserves.

  On the left edge of the clearing, Leana is in serious danger. Her bow lies on the ground. She’s fighting with her dagger.

  Against goblins, maybe. But the ogre is overwhelming her.

  In close combat, she’s helpless.

  Good to know—for future strategy.

  Teddy prepares to leap to her aid.

  I stop him with a hand signal.

  If there’s a hell in this world, I’ll be welcomed there with open arms.

  I just had a brilliant idea.

  Operation: Shining Knight in Distress.

  In every fantasy story, the heroine falls hopelessly in love when the hero saves her from certain death.

  Leana, with her strict yet naive nature, is exactly the type.

  Her situation is bad—but not fatal.

  If I wait just a little longer, the impact will be perfect.

  The dagger is knocked from her hand.

  She falls.

  Three goblins close in.

  Then the scream.

  That’s my cue.

  “Body Enhancement!”

  “Skill Amplification!”

  “Regeneration Boost!”

  “Acceleration!”

  I unleash every scrap of magic I have.

  I fly across the clearing.

  One goblin is split cleanly in two. Another loses his head. The third is dismembered, silenced with a thrust to the heart.

  Finally, the ogre falls—cleaved perfectly in half.

  He doesn’t even seem to understand what happened as the top half of his body slides away.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask, stepping protectively in front of her.

  “I-I’m fine… You came just in time…” she sobs.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

  She breaks down, crying openly.

  I feel awful.

  Still, I kneel and pull her into an embrace.

  Slowly, her trembling fades.

  “I was so… so scared,” she whispers.

  “I’m a disgrace to a warrior… I’ve always handled everything alone.”

  She looks up at me.

  Then she smiles.

  The first smile she’s ever given me.

  Sweet—and unbearably bitter.

  Her cheeks redden.

  “Y-you can let go now…”

  An unfamiliar expression crosses her stern face.

  Embarrassment.

  It suits her.

  “Let me hold you a little longer.”

  She buries her face against my chest.

  “…Okay.”

  “Are you two done yet? I could really use some help over here!”

  Rin.

  Oops.

  Leana pulls away instantly, face burning red, grabbing her weapons.

  Operation Shining Knight in Distress was a complete success.

  I should never do this again.

  Unless it’s absolutely necessary.

  We finish off the remaining monsters easily.

  The rest of the night passes without incident.

  ***

  Morning sunlight wakes me.

  A green-blond shadow sits close by.

  Leana had the last watch.

  Is she seriously watching me sleep like a lovestruck schoolgirl?

  Creepy.

  And kind of cute.

  I give her a head start to escape—slowly opening my eyes and stretching.

  The shadow vanishes instantly.

  “Good morning, Arik!”

  She acts conspicuously normal.

  I think that’s the first time she’s said my name.

  “Good morning, Leana. Give me a moment—I’ll make breakfast.”

  She beams.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After a hearty meal, we continue.

  I desperately miss morning coffee.

  “If we keep this pace, we should reach the lake by afternoon,” Leana informs us.

  Please smile again. It looks good on you.

  No rush. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  The second day begins exactly where the first ended—with endless monster battles.

  But we’re working well as a team now.

  After a surprisingly quiet lunch and Leana’s delicious wild mushroom stew, the trees finally thin.

  The path widens.

  Before us lies a vast, brilliantly blue lake.

  It’s beautiful.