Revelations and Resilience

Sigurd submerged himself in the soothing warmth of the bath. The day's events replayed like vivid dream scenes in his mind. He endured the intense, lingering pain of his body tempering technique, a tangible reminder of his relentless pursuit of strength.

With each inhale of steamy, damp air, Sigurd's thoughts drifted toward Mammon and the enigmatic power it contained. The sword had become more than a mere weapon; it was a conduit to hidden knowledge, a guide in Sigurd's journey toward mastery.

'How is Mammon—a sword aware of the stones of sin? And why does it choose to impart this knowledge to me?' Sigurd mused, the steam curling around him like ethereal wisps of thought.

His body floated on the surface; the sight made the female elves blush as he soaked in the healing waters.

He confronted the insecurities that ate at the edges of his mind. The words etched into the walls of his training chamber—"Avarice"—served as a stark reminder of the fine line between ambition and recklessness.

'Was my pursuit of strength driven by noble intent? Or was it a demonstration of greed?' Sigurd thought to himself. He furrowed his brow, filled with introspection.

'Is it greedy for me to want to meet my father again?'

Despite the physical toll caused by his training, Sigurd's spirit remained stubborn. His pain was proof of his unwavering determination. A sign that as long as he endured, he could grow stronger to protect his father and the kingdom.

'I may have pushed myself to the brink today, but I emerged stronger for it. Each trial is an opportunity to grow, to evolve.'

Sigurd emerged from the rejuvenating waters of the bathhouse, feeling the lingering ache in his muscles and bones slowly dissipating with each step. The healing properties of the baths had worked wonders on his tired body, soothing the strain caused by his intense training.

He experienced a sense of purification in his body and mind.

'I can feel their lecherous eyes watching my every move... Why give such a small towel?'

When he left the pool, many half-elves could not resist and watched his bare back with predatory eyes.

As he wrapped himself in a clean robe provided by the attendants, Sigurd's mind drifted back to the discoveries he had experienced during his harsh tempering exercises. "Finally covered..."

'I will push further next time, fifteen or even twenty!'

"Remember to come back here tomorrow," Rosa whispered as she wore the same robe; beside her was Eva, who looked away with a pink hue staining her cheeks.

"Don't forget our appointment for tea..." A quiet voice sounded as he left.

While brief, the encounter with Rosa and Eva gave him a sense of validation and encouragement.

Despite their understanding of his ambitious pursuit of strength, neither judged or scolded him. This only fuelled his determination to push his limits further.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, listening to the plants swaying in the evening breeze while insects seemed to sing their lullabies. 

Sigurd found himself again in the presence of Medea, the enigmatic witch who had taken him under her wing. Her presence exuded a sense of mystery and intrigue, and Sigurd couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to her than met the eye.

"If it isn't my cute apprentice!" Medea greeted him with a playful yet deductive tone. "I trust your training yielded fruitful results?"

Sigurd nodded, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. "Indeed, Medea. Although I have much to learn."

"Ah, the hunger for knowledge and power," Medea mused, her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. "A trait I find quite endearing in my young apprentice."

With a subtle smirk, she motioned for Sigurd to follow her as they strolled through the bustling village streets.

Sigurd couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within him, knowing that each step he took brought him closer to unlocking the mysteries of his newfound abilities.

'This woman, she is no normal witch. I am sure of it.'

As they reached a secluded spot beneath the shade of a towering oak tree, Medea turned to face Sigurd, her expression sly yet strangely youthful.

"Now, Sigurd," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief, "it's time for you to delve deeper into the depths of your magic. But remember, power comes at a price, and your path may not always be easy."

With those cryptic words lingering in the air, Sigurd felt a surge of determination coursing through him, filling him with courage. "Whatever it takes, I'm prepared."

"Excellent." Medea's crimson eyes glistened with pride as she watched her apprentice's unwavering resolve. She could see that he would do whatever it took to become stronger, no matter how challenging his journey might be.

"I'll be away for two weeks. Within those two weeks, I have a task for you."

Medea's words became serious. Even the aura of thick magic around her body weighed heavily on Sigurd's shoulders before he noticed her eyes looked anguished and slightly worried.

"What is this task?" Sigurd asked, unable to hide the sense of unease building within him.

"In the dense forests where the elder witches once trained, there are monsters... Monsters which can evolve if we leave them alone." Medea's crimson eyes narrowed, her expression solemn as she gazed at Sigurd.

"Evolve into Agmar..." He replied with a low voice.

"Yes, as a church knight, you know magic or the holy light of a paladin are the only methods to kill these creatures."

Sigurd nodded slowly, remembering the beast in the church's cathedral that tried to devour him. "I understand."

"So, your task is simple. Hunt this evolving monster and show me how far you can improve as an apprentice witch in two weeks." Medea smiled, her crimson eyes flashing with pride as she patted Sigurd's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry if you die. I'll reanimate you in my pet. This time, the Agmar is an Orc."

"Strong and very durable, with great stamina, but they lack speed and intelligence." She smirked as he listened to her. "This makes them perfect candidates for our witches to crush their bodies and absorb the thick magic that lingers in their bodies!"

'Absorb their soul...' Sigurd muttered, realising that strange feeling after killing monsters and growing stronger is what she meant; he felt Mammon's blade vibrating with a buzz, as if hungry to hunt a real Agmar growing. 'Mammon... is that your greed?'

"Understood... I won't fail you."

Medea chuckled softly, her crimson eyes filled with confidence. "I know you won't."

"Then..." Sigurd's voice trailed off as he pondered his next words. 

However, the witch pointed her staff at him with a brilliant face as runes of silver and blue light encompassed his body rapidly.

"Do not worry. A half-elf will join you for this mission to serve as your shield and support." Another light shot into the sky, mimicking him from the direction he just left.

"Who?" Sigurd tried to ask, but the spell had already begun, teleporting him to the centre of the vast Laguna Forest around the village.