The Princess and The Queen Want me as their personal Slave?
Chapter 49: Training Karina {2}

Chapter 49: Training Karina {2}

Hours passed.

I could now at least summon eight Looking Needles using Sea Barrage, and the spell was growing increasingly powerful.

Honestly, this was perfect. I barely had any offensive spells until now, and finally having something versatile and strong felt like a blessing.

Thinking about it, I reached out and touched Karina. I wanted to check if her core had started to form.

The Emotion Mana was still absorbing everything around her, devouring The Normal Mana like an endless hunger. But unlike before, it was getting bigger and stronger—more stable.

Surely, soon it would condense into a proper core. I nodded to myself, satisfied.

Leaving a quick note—I’ll be out for a bit—I turned away.

She would need equipment. Proper protection, now that things were escalating. And thinking about it, I still had that other staff—the one I got from that spider cave. It was still embedded inside me, dormant but intact. That should be good enough for now.

What I needed next were clothes, armor, and various tools—essentials.

Yawning, I stretched and began walking through the Deep Sea Kingdom.

As always, the place was bathed in an ethereal blue glow, and most of the inhabitants I saw were of the Fish race or the Mermaid race.

As usual, I attracted some attention—but no one dared to ask who I was, or why I was there. When their eyes saw the Starfish floating above me, they quickly turned away.

It had become a kind of badge now. A symbol. Many of the Fish folk seemed to recognize me, perhaps from how often I’d been strolling around their kingdom recently.

Some of them even greeted me casually. I returned their greetings politely.

Outside the great protective bubble of the kingdom, sea monsters still prowled, but within the barrier, everything was serene. Calm.

I continued my stroll until I came across something I had been hoping for—a blacksmith’s armory. Just what I needed.

The blacksmith stood behind the counter. To my surprise, he wasn’t a sea creature at all, but an elf.

A rather short one, with a white beard and sharp blue eyes. It was my first time seeing an elf down here, and it caught me off guard.

He looked up at me, scoffing coldly at first, clearly annoyed by my presence. But then his gaze landed on the Starfish hovering over my head, and something shifted in his expression.

Curiosity.

The Elf was also Curious it had been Years since he had seen a Human Race and adding it up that’s his in the Deep sea was Rare

He didn’t ask what my identity is He didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

Looking around the shop, nothing really caught my eye. The armors and weapons were flashy, made to impress more than protect. I sighed.

Then—unexpectedly—my staff pulsed faintly, and spoke directly into my mind.

"Hmm... Get that one. In the farthest corner of the room. The right one. Get two pieces—one for you, one small for Karina."

I blinked, surprised by the staff suddenly talking, but didn’t question it.

Following its direction, I walked toward the edge of the room—and saw it.

An old armor set, made of leather.

It was extremely plain compared to the others—no glow, no shine, no intricate design. Just a dark, weathered set of armor that looked... forgotten.

But when I looked closer, my eyes widened.

Mana. So much mana had been condensed and compounded into this armor that it nearly made my jaw drop.

It was powerful. Quietly so.

I reached out and grabbed the leather armor. It was incredibly firm—resistant, and yet light in my hand.

From the counter, the blacksmith raised an eyebrow. He looked shocked for a moment, then his face twisted into a scoff.

He probably thought I was a fool, picking something so plain and overlooked.

But what he didn’t know was that this piece of armor—this discarded relic—was one of the best things in the room.

In fact, it had been one of the pieces he’d worked the hardest on in the past.

He remembered now. This armor had once been forged with care and precision, using mana-forging techniques long forgotten. But when buyers saw flashier armors, this one got tossed aside. Replaced. Abandoned.

That’s how things worked now—style over substance.

He looked at me again, quietly scoffing.

But then, I finally spoke.

"Hmm... This thing is pretty strong. Why aren’t you making more of this kind?"

My voice cut through the room, quiet but sharp.

And something in him shifted.

It struck a nerve.

He stared at me for a long second—really looked at me.

He hadn’t felt that kind of excitement, that thrill, in years. Forging used to mean something to him. But over time, he had gotten swept away by trends, by demand. Flashy this, flashy that. Sparkle and shine with no real heart.

But now, someone saw it.

Someone noticed the quiet strength—the craft.

He realized I wasn’t a fool at all. I was an inspector.

A good one.

Because it was true. The flashiest pieces were mostly hollow. The strongest gear didn’t always shout. Sometimes, it whispered.

The elf suddenly burst into laughter—a deep, hearty sound that echoed off the walls of the forge.

"Good kid!" he said, grinning. "You’ve got some real eyes on you. That’ll take you far in this world."

His cold, distant demeanor melted away in an instant. His sharp gaze softened, and he stepped forward, patting my shoulder with a firm but friendly hand.

Then, without warning, he turned to the flashy weapons and armors displayed all around his workshop and scoffed coldly.

"Hmph. Garbage," he muttered with disdain. One by one, he started tossing them aside with no hesitation, letting gaudy swords and ornate chestplates crash to the ground with metallic thuds.

"Tell me, kid," he asked without looking back, "what’s your name?"

I blinked, surprised by the sudden question—and even more surprised that he was now clearing out his own display racks like they were nothing.

"...Akashi," I replied honestly.

He nodded, clearly pleased with the answer. "Call me Mr. Harold."

His voice was calm, warm even—filled with a sincerity I hadn’t expected from someone who just minutes ago looked like he wanted to be left alone.

As the last of the flashy items hit the ground, Harold turned and headed into the room behind the counter. I watched curiously as he disappeared through a doorway.

Moments later, he returned, his arms full.

Armor. Weapons. Shields.

But unlike the things he had just thrown away, these pieces were different. They weren’t flashy, no. But they weren’t plain either. Each one was unique—crafted with care, etched with runes or patterns, some glowing faintly, others humming with dense mana.

Every item felt... alive.

And to my surprise, the staff within me gave a hum of delight, its energy surging faintly in response. It was pleased. Genuinely pleased.

Harold smirked as he laid the pieces out on the table with pride.

Each of these weapons and armors carried something deeper than just material worth. They were made with passion, with determination—and as I looked at him, I could feel that same passion reigniting inside him.

For a moment, his eyes glimmered with the kind of joy one only sees in a true craftsman rediscovering their purpose.

The staff whispered again in my mind:

"Get that armor embedded with dragon scales. Just the armor. Everything else is fine. Get two."

I nodded silently.

With a soft smile, I gently set the leather armor back where I found it, treating it with the respect it deserved. Then I stepped forward and pointed at the armor the staff had mentioned.

A set of dark, intricately layered plates, with faint red etchings curling along the surface like veins. The design was minimal, but fierce—and I could feel the dragon mana humming deep inside it.

"Can I have two of these?" I asked politely. "One in this size, and one resized for a child—around eleven or twelve years old."

Harold blinked, clearly surprised. Most people who came in never asked for smaller sets. They always wanted massive, bulky armors that made them look powerful.

But to his surprise, he remembered that he had considered that possibility once, a long time ago. He had even made a few child-sized versions, just in case someone like me ever walked in.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Without saying a word, he turned and went back to the room, emerging shortly after with two sets of the dragon-scale armor.

He dropped them gently in front of me with a satisfying clink, then reached behind the counter again—this time, pulling out a small silver ring etched with oceanic runes.

"Here," he said. "Take this too. A storage ring. Consider it a bonus."

He flipped the ring to me, and I caught it midair. I could already feel its capacity.

"Should be able to store something as big as a house. Maybe even a little more," he added, smirking.

Then he held up three fingers. "That’ll be 300 gold coins. The ring’s free—just because I like you, kid."

I nodded, smiling gratefully.

Reaching into my current storage pouch, I counted out the gold coins and placed them on the counter.

Harold took them and gave me a respectful nod. "You ever need anything forged properly, you come back here, Akashi. You’ve got the eyes of someone who sees beyond the surface. That’s rare these days."

The staff pulsed again inside me, pleased.

And as I slid the two armors into the storage ring, i really had felt the Pinch of it but thankfully i still have alot of gold coins