Home/The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief of Exile/ch 53

Chapter 53

"This is the wooden club I provide to all of you during training."

"But why did you bring out my club?"

"Sir Ian's is for comparison."

Verity pointed to the end of the club.

"As you can see, it's quite worn from handling. That's because Sir Ian has been the most dedicated trainee among the villagers."

Ian woke up every morning to warm up on his own, and when the villagers trained once, he trained twice—soaked in sweat.

So it's only natural that the club bears those marks.

Looking closely, the edge of the club, which should have been square, was rounded. That meant he'd been beating a lot of monsters.

"My beloved disciple indeed."

"I still have a long way to go..."

Ian looked embarrassed at Verity's praise.

"But."

Verity placed the club on the table as if to say, "Look here."

"No matter how many times Sir Ian swung it to beat monsters, the club only wore down slightly—it's still intact. No breaks."

"You said it was stronger than diamond when you gave it to us."

At my words, Verity nodded.

"That's why I want to bring Nema-nim."

Then he pulled out another club, and I was shocked.

This club was a mess in a different way from Ian's.

It was covered in dents and gouges, like footprints left on muddy ground after rain. Even Ian's club wasn't this bad.

But the truly surprising thing was something else.

"It's cracked..."

The end, where the handle would be, was split.

"Could this be...!"

"Yes."

Everyone's eyes naturally turned to one place.

Aunt Nema.

Sensing the gazes, she hung her head. Her trembling shoulders didn't look pitiful—they looked dangerous, like a warrior surrendering to madness.

"It's a very small and shallow crack, but among the clubs I provided to the villagers, this is the only one that cracked."

"Sister...!"

Now even Ian was looking at Aunt Nema with new eyes.

But Aunt Nema still wouldn't lift her head.

'Ah...'

Now I was worried for a different reason.

'When aptitude and disposition clash, it's the hardest.'

People suffer when there's a gap between what they want to do most and what they do best.

Of course, you can reconcile the two, but that's easier said than done.

Fortunately, Verity didn't press further.

"Nema-nim. As I said at the assembly, you're free to decline."

"......"

"But the reason I'm being so insistent is that you possess the strength to protect the village."

"I love the village too, truly..."

"I know."

Verity looked at me and smiled.

"I can tell from the clothes you and the children are wearing. Nema-nim made them, didn't she? Everyone says they're comfortable to move in."

"Yeah! They're really comfortable!"

I quickly agreed.

These orange overalls I was wearing today were both pretty and comfortable to move in.

They were definitely the best clothes I'd worn in this world.

Only then did Aunt Nema lift her head. Her face was still red, but this time it was with pleasure.

"Auntie, like Verity said, you can refuse."

"But..."

"The fact that you're agonizing over it shows how seriously you're taking our offer."

Aunt Nema knows her own personality well.

So she was worried she might be a hindrance, or that she might not live up to Verity's expectations, and so she kept refusing.

'If I were in her shoes, I would have refused too.'

It's much better than someone with no fighting experience trying to act tough and causing trouble.

Finally, Aunt Nema's expression relaxed.

---

The moment Aunt Nema left, Verity started whining again.

"Sniff, having to give up such a talent..."

"Stop whining."

That night.

Long after dinner was over, Verity was still slumped over the table, sniffling, until we had all showered and were ready for bed.

For the record, we'd returned to our original house.

"Was self-control always this light?"

"Oh my, did one hammer strike drive the nail all the way in?"

Thanks to the adults honed by training, the house repairs were completed ahead of schedule.

"Grrrr!"

"Growl!"

"Look, even Poppy and Chuchu are telling you to stop by biting."

"They always bite me anyway..."

Even with the dogs biting him all over, Verity didn't flinch.

Losing interest in the unresponsive Verity, the dogs snorted and trotted over to Libby.

Then they sat one on each thigh and received their brushing.

I patted Verity's back.

"Is Aunt Nema that amazing?"

"In terms of growth potential alone, she surpasses Sir Ian..."

"Whoa, she beats Ian oppa!"

"This isn't a competition, you know?"

Ian tapped my head lightly.

"Still, if Aunt Nema is that good, I'd like to spar with her. It's always good to have a training partner to grow together."

"Don't even dream about it."

"Haha, I know. Still, Aunt Nema has real combat..."

"Sir Ian might die if you're not careful."

"Experience, no..."

Huh?

A dumbfounded question barely escaped Ian's frozen lips.

An awkward silence fell.

Ian wasn't the only one surprised.

Libby, brushing Poppy, and I, playing with Chuchu with a toy, were also speechless.

'Did I mishear?'

Glancing at us, Verity let out a sigh and explained just how great Nema's potential was.

"Of course, Sir Ian is strong. His former career as a knight serves as a solid foundation, which is why his growth is so fast."

If the villagers were to rank themselves on strength, Ian would definitely be number one—that was Verity's claim.

'That's true.'

I agreed.

There was no room for argument.

But.

"In terms of pure combat power alone..."

"Are you saying Aunt Nema is number one?"

"I believe so."

It wasn't just a guess—Verity was certain.

"Whoa."

Now even I was surprised.

If Verity was saying this much, Aunt Nema's skill must be real.

Only then did Ian begin to take the situation seriously.

"Then we should somehow convince her..."

"That's what I regret."

To explain in detail, Verity first explained the concept of a berserker.

"A berserker is a warrior who fights like mad, losing reason. They're called by many names in many places—Berserker, possessed warrior, mad knight."

Such berserkers have a unique trait.

They are, in their ordinary lives, so kind and shy that you'd wonder if they're foolish.

"That's exactly Aunt Nema."

Libby's eyes widened.

"Why would such a person get a berserker aptitude..."

"No."

Verity corrected Libby.

"It's not 'why would such a person be a berserker.' It's 'she has that personality because she's a berserker.'"

A berserker literally fights in a mad state.

Meaning they become a mess that would horrify onlookers.

To suppress that latent madness, a berserker desperately clings to their gentle, fragile rationality.

It was a kind of sensory camouflage chosen by instinct for survival.

"Don't misunderstand. Since it's created by instinct, that kindness is also the real Nema-nim."

Training has results.

The adults who repaired our half-destroyed house had felt it during the repairs.

So Aunt Nema must have also felt her own training results.

If that result was the berserker's characteristic madness becoming more prominent, she must have suffered trying to suppress it.

I recalled the club of Aunt Nema's that Verity had shown me.

'Even while suffering like that...'

I was grateful that she'd endured it silently, but it was also heartbreaking that she couldn't easily voice her discomfort.

'I was thinking earlier that I liked her madness and all that.'

I'm so glad I didn't say it out loud.

A somber silence fell.

Getting stronger wasn't all good. I never imagined there would be problems like this.

'Tomorrow, when I go to the village hall, I'll announce that no one has to attend training if they don't want to. There might be people who feel pressured by the atmosphere.'

My heart felt heavy.

This was a major failure on my part as village chief.

Village prosperity is certainly important.

But we shouldn't force the villagers to sacrifice themselves for it.

The ultimate goal of Exilium Village is to live well and eat well.

"It's not your fault."

"Right. You always do your best."

Sensing my feelings, Ian and Libby patted my shoulders in encouragement.

"Without you, would we be living in such luxury?"

"If anyone didn't like the training, they'd come and say so, like Aunt Nema. What's the suggestion box for?"

"And strictly speaking..."

"The root of this problem is Verity."

"Ugh..."

At the cold accusation, Verity rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

Eventually, he even hung his head in admission.

"I am reflecting."

But the demon added, "However!"

"I'm originally a martial artist, so seeing talent like Sir Ian or Nema-nim makes me desperately want to train them! It drives me crazy!"

"Then I'll flip your scalp over."

I protect my people!

At my stern warning, Verity pouted.

"To add one more excuse..."

"Libby unnie, bring me a needle and thread. I need to sew this demon's mouth shut. How many excuses does he have?"

"Berserkers don't lose their reason every time they fight."

Once they gain enough skill, berserkers can fight while maintaining their reason.

I asked.

"Is the training easy?"

"Is anything in this world easy?"

"God, I'm sending you a demon today."

And so the exorcism began.

---

Unfortunately, the exorcism failed.

"That's strange."

Even after singing Christmas carols at the top of my lungs until I was hoarse, Verity was fine.

Later, he even had the leisure to sing and dance along with me.

"As expected, he's no ordinary demon. Having the leisure to shake his hips while singing sacred hymns..."

"What part of that was a sacred hymn...?"

Creak, Ian, who had been pulling up the ladle from the well, let out a hollow laugh.

"That was just whining for presents..."

Ian, who had been teasing, suddenly paused.

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