Chapter 36: Overlapping Heartbeats.

Morning mist still lingered faintly in the White Rose District courtyard.

This residence had been Phyllis’s careful choice—high walls and dense shrubbery perfectly blocked all prying eyes from the outside world.

Hill stood in the center of the lawn, gripping the translucent sword: Wind Whisperer.

Without mana poured into it, the blade looked dull—almost like unpolished glass.

“Hah!”

With a short shout, Hill swung toward the training post in front of her.

The sword sliced through air with only a dull whoosh.

No wind blade. No razor-sharp spatial tear.

Because of its unique material, the unpowered blade felt strangely heavy and off-balance.

The post bore only a faint white scratch.

“…Tch.”

Hill lowered the tip in irritation.

This felt awful.

Like a peerless martial master whose tendons had been severed.

All that power—trapped, unusable.

It left her stifled and frustrated.

“Not working?”

Light footsteps approached from behind.

Hill turned.

Phyllis was walking over, carrying two towels and a water jug.

Today she wore a practical white training outfit; her long hair was tied into a high ponytail, revealing the slender, pale column of her neck.

She looked full of youthful energy.

And still carried that untouchable, sacred aura.

“No good.”

Hill sighed and stuck the sword point-first into the grass.

“My mana recovery is too slow. I tried channeling what I had—it lasted two seconds before cutting out. This thing is a bottomless pit.”

“It’s fine. After all, it’s an ancient elven relic.”

Phyllis set the items down and stepped behind Hill.

Smiling softly, she wrapped both arms around Hill’s waist from behind, then slid her hands down along Hill’s arms until their fingers met—gloved hand over gloved hand—on the hilt.

“Didn’t we already agree yesterday?”

Phyllis’s voice came warm against Hill’s ear, lazy and tinged with the coolness of early morning.

“I’m Hill’s wellspring. Come—let me be your battery.”

“…!”

Hill’s body stiffened slightly.

Even though she had mentally prepared herself, being embraced so completely from behind still sent heat rushing to her ears.

Phyllis’s chest pressed flush against Hill’s back; her small head rested on Hill’s shoulder.

“…How am I supposed to swing a sword like this?”

Hill shifted awkwardly.

“It’s too close. I can’t move properly.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Phyllis didn’t let go—instead she tightened her grip, interlocking their fingers over the hilt.

“Relax, Hill. Don’t resist me.”

“Close your eyes.”

Phyllis’s gentle voice guided her.

Hill instinctively obeyed.

“Feel my breathing.”

Phyllis inhaled deeply; warm breath brushed Hill’s cheek.

At the same time—

a pure, vast stream of wind-attribute mana flowed from Phyllis’s body—through their pressed backs and joined hands—slowly pouring into Hill.

The sensation was strange and wondrous.

Like a parched riverbed suddenly filled with clear spring water.

The mana didn’t rampage inside Hill; it obeyed her will perfectly, as though it had always belonged to her.

“Inhale…”

Phyllis whispered.

Hill inhaled.

“Exhale…”

Hill exhaled.

Their chests rose and fell in gradually perfect sync.

Their heartbeats began to overlap.

“Now—draw the sword.”

Hill’s eyes snapped open.

Wind Whisperer came alive in her grasp.

Cyan storm winds instantly coiled around the blade, singing with clear delight.

The sword’s weight vanished.

It became light as a feather—yet brimmed with devastating power.

“Slash!”

Hill moved.

Phyllis moved with her.

She was Hill’s perfect shadow—adjusting balance when Hill stepped, sliding sideways when Hill turned.

Together they danced a deadly waltz across the small courtyard.

Shhh!!!

A three-meter-long cyan wind blade swept outward.

The sturdy training post didn’t even make a sound before it was sliced cleanly in half.

The cut surface was mirror-smooth.

Even the old oak tree behind it caught the aftershock—a deep gash carved into its trunk.

“It worked!”

Hill stared at the sword in her hand, eyes shining with exhilaration.

This sense of power!

This effortless control!

It felt like her peak from her previous life!

“You’re amazing, Phyllis!”

Hill turned excitedly, wanting to hug the contributor behind her.

But the moment she moved, weight settled on her shoulders.

Phyllis leaned her full body against Hill.

“Hah… hah…”

Phyllis panted heavily; sweat beaded on her forehead, cheeks flushed abnormally.

“Phyllis? Are you alright?”

Hill panicked and quickly supported her.

“Was the mana drain too much?”

“I’m… fine…”

Phyllis shook her head weakly; her eyes, however, shone with unusual brightness—watery and dazed.

She didn’t release Hill’s hand—instead gripped it even tighter.

“Hill… that feeling just now… was incredible.”

Phyllis pressed her fever-hot cheek against Hill’s cool leather armor; her voice trembled.

“Your mana flowing through me… it felt like we became one…”

“…Don’t say such suggestive things.”

Hill’s face burned; she awkwardly looked away.

“It’s called mana resonance.”

“Hehe… yes. Resonance.”

Phyllis laughed softly.

She greedily breathed in the warm scent Hill gave off after exertion.

…

“Let’s rest.”

Hill gently helped Phyllis to the courtyard bench and handed her the water jug.

“From now on, control the output better. This is too hard on you.”

“I’m not afraid of the burden.”

Phyllis took a small sip to moisten her dry lips, then looked up at Hill with earnest eyes.

“I’m only afraid Hill will think I can’t keep up with your speed.”

“Never.”

Hill picked up a towel and naturally wiped the sweat from Phyllis’s brow.

“As long as you’re behind me, I feel invincible.”

Phyllis’s eyes curved into crescents.

She reached for Wind Whisperer, now dim and gray once more.

She took out the maintenance oil and silk cloth she had prepared and began carefully wiping the blade.

Her movements were gentle, her gaze focused; she murmured under her breath:

“Bad child… daring to drain so much of Hill’s energy… but since you made Hill so happy, I’ll forgive you this time.”

Hill watched from the side and couldn’t help laughing.

“Pfft! Are you talking to the sword?”

“Yes.”

Phyllis looked up, completely serious.

“It’s my love rival now. After all, Hill might end up holding it longer than she holds my hand.”

“…What kind of ridiculous logic is that?”

Hill shook her head helplessly.

Yet deep down, she found this occasional jealous side of Phyllis unbearably adorable.

She wanted to ruffle her hair.

Sunlight bathed the courtyard.

The silver-haired swordswoman rested.

The golden-haired nun polished the blade.

The scene was beautiful and serene.

“Tomorrow…”

Phyllis murmured while wiping the hilt, voice barely audible—like talking to herself.

“Tomorrow let’s try increasing the transmission volume a little more. So Hill’s body… becomes even more dependent on my mana.”

“What did you say?”

Hill hadn’t caught it.

“I said…”

Phyllis lifted her head and smiled brightly.

“Tomorrow I want to eat sandwiches made by Hill!”

“Sure, sure—as long as you don’t mind how bad they taste.”