Chapter 130: First Meeting Gift

“Yo, you’re here, kid.”

Amid the dazzling sea of flowers, the white-haired, red-eyed loli girl looked as if she had just woken up, still wearing the same pink pajamas she had on when Muen first met her.

In her hand was a small, cute pink watering can, which she was using to water the flower field. As she saw Muen approaching, those red eyes, clear and transparent like amber, revealed a hint of satisfaction.

“You did well.”

She said, “Far better than I expected. This level of achievement—it's rare even in my long, long years.”

“Professor Meladomir...”

Looking at her, Muen suddenly didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even figure out what to do with his hands and feet. All he could manage was a dry, awkward:

“Long time no see.”

Meladomir smiled.

“There’s no need to be nervous. You are already a disciple of mine—Meladomir. From now on, at any moment, facing anyone, you have the right to hold your head high.”

“Really?”

Some of the tension slipped away. Muen scratched his head again and asked,

“So I’m already your disciple? Do I need to prepare anything? A formal gift for becoming a disciple? Or is there a specific ceremony? Should I change how I address you?”

“All that formality—let’s skip it.”

Meladomir thought for a moment. “As for what to call me, just call me ‘Professor Meladomir.’ I prefer that.”

“Then...”

Muen bowed respectfully and seriously. “Please take care of me from now on, Professor Meladomir.”

“Mhm. I’ll be in your care as well.”

Meladomir calmly accepted Muen’s bow. Then, with a casual snap of her fingers, a streak of radiant light flashed—and a silver-white case appeared before Muen.

“Take it. This is for you. Consider it a gift for our first meeting.”

“A gift?”

Muen’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Professor Meladomir to treat him so well—to receive a gift immediately upon becoming her disciple?

But since it was already placed right in front of him, there was no reason to refuse.

Delighted, Muen picked up the case, examining it left and right, even knocking on it with his knuckles before asking curiously,

“What’s inside?”

“You’ll know once you open it.”

Meladomir smiled.

“I think you’ll like it.”

With that assurance, Muen’s anticipation grew.

He quickly found the latch on the case and pressed it. With the sound of mechanical gears turning, creak—the silver-white case sprang open.

A sharp aura and holy brilliance surged outward, causing Muen’s breath to catch for a brief instant.

Blades.

Short blades.

Two pure white short blades, engraved with golden floral patterns, lay silently inside the case. And the moment the case opened, they seemed to hum faintly—almost as if alive.

Muen even heard a heartbeat.

His own heartbeat.

Because the instant he laid eyes on those twin short blades, his heart had begun to race uncontrollably.

As if resonating with the weapons.

“This is...”

Muen felt his throat dry up. He looked toward Professor Meladomir.

“I haven’t had the time to name them yet. I figured it would be better if you did that yourself.”

Professor Meladomir said softly,

“I watched some of your battle footage earlier and noticed you seemed to lack weapons that suited you—so I made these on a whim.”

“Professor Meladomir...”

‘Like’ was an understatement. Muen was practically on the verge of tears.

Although she said she forged them “on a whim,” the exquisite craftsmanship of these short blades and the profound aura they unintentionally gave off—no matter how you looked at them, they had to be at least golden legendary-tier weapons.

Truly worthy of being a powerhouse. Even something she tossed out casually could knock someone unconscious.

But...

Muen blinked, then asked curiously,

“These are a pretty niche kind of weapon... Aren’t you worried I might fail the exam because of them and they’d go to waste?”

“Unlike that brat Prang, I have absolute faith in my own judgment.”

Meladomir gave Muen a sidelong glance, her tone offhand:

“If I didn’t think you were capable, I wouldn’t have wasted my time coming to find you.”

“I see...”

Muen muttered in realization.

“It really feels like... I’ve been placed under some pretty big expectations without even realizing it.”

“Well, since you know—hurry up and live up to them.”

Meladomir said,

“Want to try the blades?”

“Yeah!”

Muen reached out and grasped the hilts of the two short blades.

In that instant, a sharp pain struck his palms—like something sharp had cut them open.

Warm blood instantly spread along the carved patterns of the blades.

Gold turned to dark red. Even the previously sacred aura the weapons gave off now seemed strangely eerie.

But it only lasted a moment.

The next second, the short blades let out a sharp hum, and golden light burst forth.

The blades that had felt light as paper now carried real weight. And the weight—was just right. As if they were extensions of his own arms.

For a fleeting moment, Muen felt as if he could sense joy emanating from within the blades.

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you.”

Meladomir stroked her smooth chin and said,

“There’s a living spirit inside the blades. Now that she’s acknowledged you, that means no one else will ever be able to use these weapons—as long as you’re alive.”

“Amazing...”

Muen gave genuine praise.

Having read the original book, he naturally understood how rare it was in this world to possess a weapon with a living spirit.

And to think Professor Meladomir had casually handed him one.

Unable to suppress his excitement, Muen gave the blade a strong swing.

In that instant, it was as if lightning slashed through the air—a faint, ink-like charred trace lingered in the void.

“Based on your combat style, the primary trait I gave these two blades is sharpness,”

Meladomir said. “Extreme sharpness—so sharp that very few defenses in this world can withstand them. For someone like you, who wins through agility and flexibility, I figured that would be more useful than any flashy effects. Aside from that, when the two blades clash against each other, they can activate a powerful [Alchemy Field].”

“[Alchemy Field]?”

Muen’s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he immediately clashed the two blades together.

Zheng—!

The blades rang out.

Silvery arcs of electricity spread along the golden engravings, forming a special zone around Muen several meters wide—like a space smelted from metal.

“The effect of the [Alchemy Field] is... rejection of all foreign substances.”

Meladomir casually plucked a flower and tossed it toward the field surrounding Muen. The moment the pristine flower touched the edge of the field, it burst into ash—just like it had been consumed by fire.

“But in truth, this effect isn’t very strong.”

Meladomir reached her pale, slender hand into the field, and the silver-white arcs flowed around her hand like rippling water.

“Anyone with «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» slightly stronger physical strength could force their way in. Weapons are even less affected. But this field was never meant to be used for defense. I mean—if I wanted to give you a defensive function, why wouldn’t I just hand you a shield instead? So, compared to tangible enemies or weapons, this field is meant to target things that are intangible and unseen. Curses, poison, negative effects, mental attacks—things like that. And most importantly, it isolates the inside from the outside. In other words...”

Meladomir looked into Muen’s eyes and said slowly, word by word:

“When this field is activated, you can use the flames of the Withering King—without holding back.”