Starting the Strategy from Frieren

Martina avoided further eye contact with Ivan and the mage, quickly standing and striding away with an awkward sense of urgency.

The mage chuckled softly. She hadn't meant any harm—teasing Martina was simply amusing in its innocence.

"So," she began, her voice light and teasing, "our dragon-slaying hero is hiding here instead of dancing by the campfire? You know you could ask any girl here to dance, and they'd say yes."

Ivan shook his head, his tone casual. "I'll pass. Watching the blonde captain's golden spiral dance is entertainment enough. By the way, what's your name again?"

The mage smiled, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Loreen, a fire magic specialist. And don't worry about my little joke earlier—I just didn't expect someone who's ruthless against dragons and demons to be so considerate toward a girl with… questionable cooking skills."

A subtle smile played on her lips. "By the way, you used a spatial ring earlier, didn't you? And you positioned yourself perfectly so that poor girl wouldn't notice. That was quite the effort just to avoid drinking her soup."

Ivan shrugged, unfazed. "Everyone knows lying can make the truth sting more. But when someone looks at you with those kinds of expectant eyes, it's hard to be heartless."

He resumed eating from his plate, showing little interest in Loreen's flirtation. To him, her charm paled compared to someone like Flamme, who had set a standard far beyond Loreen's reach.

"Still," he added after a moment, "I appreciate that you didn't expose me. That shows you've got a kind side, too."

Loreen tilted her head, intrigued. "Kind? That's not a word people usually use to describe me. I get 'hot-tempered' or 'arrogant' more often. Being called kind is… refreshing."

Ivan smirked faintly. "Guess I have an eye for hidden virtues." Then, changing the subject, he continued, "Martina came by earlier to show her gratitude. Are you here for the same reason?"

"Naturally." Loreen leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a sultry tone. "But I'm not much of a cook. How about repaying you with my body instead?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And then what?"

Loreen blinked, feigning innocence. "What do you mean? Isn't offering my body enough?"

Ivan sighed, his voice dry with sarcasm. "Let me guess—afterward, your teammates would jump out, stage some melodramatic scene, and cause an uproar in the village. Then I'd be forced to take responsibility and join your team as your workhorse."

Loreen's cheeks flushed as she waved her hands in protest. "No! It's not like that! Okay, maybe we do want to recruit you, but we wouldn't use such underhanded means. If you joined, you could even take over as captain!"

Ivan glanced at the blonde captain, still spinning like a top by the campfire, and raised an eyebrow. "What about your current captain? Would he be okay with that?"

Loreen's eye twitched. "He'll agree. And if he doesn't, we'll help him agree."

The chaotic world they lived in valued strength above all else—far more than reason or emotion. Loreen bit her lip, her desperation bubbling to the surface.

"If you really don't want to deal with a big group, I'll leave the team and travel with you instead!"

Her voice softened, tinged with vulnerability. After brushing so close to death, she craved security—and Ivan, the strongest person here, was her best chance. She'd decided to approach him tonight after seeing his unmatched strength in battle.

"I'll have to decline, Miss Loreen," Ivan said, finishing the last bite of food on his plate. His tone was firm, leaving no room for debate. "You're better off staying with your team. Following me would only put you in greater danger."

Loreen frowned. "What danger could be worse than fighting the Dark Dragon or demons?" She paused, then narrowed her eyes. "Ah, it's that woman, isn't it? Serie. Are you two lovers? Or married? Even if you're married, I could settle for being your mistress."

Ivan: "..."

Taking his silence as an opening, Loreen pressed on. "I wouldn't interfere with your relationship. Think of it as a business deal—I'd be no emotional burden. I just need your protection."

"Apologies," Ivan replied firmly. "I still refuse."

Loreen refused to back down. "Is she really that beautiful?"

"Of course," Ivan said, his voice steady. "But it's not just about looks. While she's physically stunning, most of her appeal comes from her inner strength—the kind of strength that can split a mountain with a punch."

Loreen stared, stunned. "How long would it take her to kill a Dark Dragon?"

"Less than ten seconds."

"...!"

Loreen's resolve crumbled. No charm could compete with someone who could obliterate her with a single glance. Quietly, she retreated back to the campfire, her ambitions dashed.

Later that night, Ivan returned to the modest house the village chief had prepared for him. After a quick wash, he sat on the bed, pulling out a sniper rifle crafted from the Dark Dragon's bones.

The weapon was a marvel. Embedded with reverse-space enchantments, it could transform into a bracelet with a thought and expand back into a gun just as easily. Its bullets—compressed mana combined with powdered dragon horn—were powerful enough to match a demon's full-strength attack.

Satisfied with his work, Ivan leaned back, his thoughts drifting to the coming days. Tomorrow, Schwer Mountain awaited, and with it, the challenge of pulling the legendary sword from its stone.