My Creations Followed Me to Another World-Chapter 17: Mom Get It

The tip of the Knight’s long sword was aimed directly at Dante’s throat.

The sword was polished, sharp, and held by a man who looked like he was born in plate armor.

"WIZARD!" the Knight roared again, his voice booming, full of great anger.

"I won’t say it again! Free these people! Or, by the light of Justicar, I will wipe you all out!"

Dante’s mind panicked.

His [Haste] buff was active. He was fast now.

But still, he wasn’t a fighter.

He was weak and only Level 3. He looked at the group across from him and...

The Knight. Sir Kellen. A tank, unknown level. He was wearing full armor.

’I don’t have any armor-piercing skills. Well, I don’t have any skills at all, period.’

The Archer. Her bow was drawn, an arrow stuck in her cheek. A [Long-Range DPS]. Her gaze was cold and professional. And she was fixated on Dante.

The Priest. Alistair. His hands glowed with Holy white light. A Healer, huh. A Supporter. He was chanting a spell, and the [Holy Strike] spell gathered in his palm was aimed at...

"EHHHH?!"

Rin-Rin, who had been confused, was now furious.

She tore off her "mysterious" blue robe. The sudden and powerful explosion from the neon pink sequins in the muddy green forest was truly extraordinary.

"DEMON?!" she screamed, her voice so loud that it startled the Knight’s horse.

"ME?! RIN-RIN?! YOU... YOU’RE A HATER, AREN’T YOU!"

For her, this was the ultimate insult. Clearly a one-star rating!

"Producer-sama!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "This critic has gone too far! He’s completely crossed the line! I’ll beat him up with my new Toxic Ballad!"

Dante’s blood ran cold.

He knew the concept. It was her rebranding of [Toxic].

"Rin-Rin, DON’T! DON’T!" Dante yelled, his voice hoarse.

It was too late.

She raised her microphone prop, her mouth open, taking a breath to sing the song of death.

She was about to [AOE] the Lawful Good party in front of them.

’Oh, how they would all die.’

"Now, wait a minute."

A calm and warm voice appeared.

And her voice was so full of pure disappointment.

The Knight, with his sword arm tense, hesitated.

The Priest, with his spell at its peak, faltered.

Rin-Rin... blinked.

Dante turned around.

And there...

Hana was seen getting off the carriage.

She was neither hurried nor panicked. She got off like a woman who had just arrived at the market. She calmly wiped her apron.

Then she walked.

Past Dante. She walked past the Knight’s horse’s tail.

Her practical farming boots made small noises in the mud as she stood right in front of the Knight’s private space.

The Knight had to crane his neck back to look at her. She was a woman 160 cm tall wearing an apron. The man was a man 190 cm tall weighing half a ton of steel.

And she just stared at him.

"Ma’am," stammered the Knight, Sir Kellen, the momentum completely shattered.

"Move aside! This... witch! We—"

"Young man," said Hana.

Sir Kellen stopped.

Dante’s jaw dropped. She had called the holy knight in plate armor ’young man’.

Hana’s face was not one of fear. Her face was that of a mother who had just found her sons playing with fire.

"Put down that sword," she said, her voice firm. "Now."

"I... what?" Sir Kellen, for the first time in his life, was confused. "I am Sir Kellen of the Sword of Dawn! I am an official member of the Union—"

"I don’t care if you’re the King," said Hana, her voice not raised, but somehow sounding heavy.

"You pointed a very large and sharp piece of metal at my Creator, My Husband. You made my other daughter cry."

He pointed back at Shivvy, who was indeed curled up in the carriage, her face buried in her knees.

"And you made the whole group uneasy. You scared my children."

Sir Kellen could only remain silent and stare.

He blushed. Dante could see a red flush creeping across his forehead.

The Archer, Kyra, had lowered her bow. She was just watching now. Her mouth formed a thin line, but her eyes were wide.

"But... her magic! Her demons!" stammered the Knight, his justification weak.

"Tch."

Hana just clicked her tongue. It was clear. A deep, motherly sound of disappointment.

"Restless," Hana diagnosed, shaking her head.

"All of you. You’ve been traveling for quite a while, right? You must be stressed, you’re hungry, and you’re ignoring it all, that’s why you’re being fussy."

She looked at the Knight. At the Archer. At the Priest.

"Swinging swords at travelers? Calling young women... with obscene names? You should be ashamed."

She turned her back on them. She turned her back on the man with the sword.

Her courage was so deep that Sir Kellen just stood there, his sword hanging limply at his side.

Hana walked back to the carriage.

"Shivvy, dear," she said, her voice returning to its normal warm tone.

"Help me. Please give me... that travel snack."

Shivvy, whose whole world had been refreshed by this new, impossible reality, simply obeyed.

She peeked out, her hands trembling, and fumbled with a backpack. Then she pulled out a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth.

Hana took it. She walked back to "The Heroes."

"Now," she said, her voice sounding practical. "Let’s all... take a breath."

She opened the bundle.

Inside was a stack of biscuits.

These weren’t ordinary rations. They belonged to Hana. The biscuits were golden brown, perfectly shaped, leftovers from her [Gourmet Food] preparations.

The aroma was fragrant.

And then, she [Craft].

Her hands, before the Priest, shone.

Not like the Pure White light of Alistair’s [Strike].

Nor the Pink Chaos of Rin-Rin’s [Summon].

It was a soft, warm golden yellow light.

The light of creation. The light of life. The light of wheat.

It warmed the biscuit. [Craft (Adept): Warm Snack].

The aroma of honey and wheat filled the air.

Alistair, the Priest, who had been staring, his [Holy Sight] spell still whispering on his lips, finally stumbled.

He took a step back, his hands clasping his sacred symbol, not as a weapon, but as a shield.

"Sir... Sir Kellen..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

"What is it, Alistair?" asked the Knight, his own resolve crumbling.

"The... magic..."

Hana, who thought the Priest’s fear was due to stress, just smiled kindly.

"Here, dear," she said, handing him the plate first.

"You look the most stressed. Eat one. It’s good for you. It will calm your stomach."

Alistair stared at the biscuit. Then he stared at his hand.

His [Holy Sight] screamed at him.

He had clearly seen Chaos before, many times. The stains of the Devil, often.

But this... was clearly not one of them.

This magic... it was pure. Clean. His entire binary view of the world, Holy vs. Chaos... collapsed and shattered into pieces.

He almost [Hit] a baker.

He looked at Hana (Good). He looked at Shivvy (Good, but scared). He looked at Dante (Good?). He looked at Rin-Rin (Chaos... but... why with them?).

He felt his "devil" theory had just collapsed.

"Sir Kellen," said Alistair, his voice hoarse and dry. He lowered his glowing hand. The [Strike] spell vanished without a trace.

"I... I was wrong."

Sir Kellen looked at his Priest. Then stared at the cookies. Then at the Mother in front of him.

He was a Knight of "Lawful Good."

And shamefully, he had just threatened... a mother. And her childrens.

His entire face turned a deep crimson that clashed horribly with his robe.

He felt ashamed.

SHIIING.

The sound of his sword being sheathed was deafening.

"I... I..." he stammered, his thunderous voice now sounding shrill.

He bowed.

A full bow, like a suit of armor, waist-high.

"Ma’am! I... I’m sorry! My friend... his ’vision’... we were wrong... I beg your forgiveness!"

Rin-Rin, seeing the "Hero" bowing to her group, only smirked. She crossed her arms, her mysterious hood lifting once more.

"Hmph. Just as expected, hater."

Hana just smiled.

"Of course, young man. Now, eat your biscuit. You’ll feel better."

Sir Kellen took the biscuit.

Alistair, whose mind was still in turmoil, did the same. But he wasn’t just focused on his food.

He stared at Dante.

"Sir Knight... I was wrong," said the Priest, his voice soft, his eyes fixed on Dante.

"They’re not evil."

The Knight, confused, looked at his Priest.

"Then... what was that, Alistair? What did you see?"

Alistair took a shaky breath. He pointed.

"Their ’magic’... their source... it wasn’t from the Mage Tower. It wasn’t from the Temple either. It was new magic for me. I..."

He stared at Dante, his eyes wide.

"I don’t know who you are," he said. "But the Mage Tower in Aethelburg... they’re bound to find this strange."

The threat of death was gone.

Now replaced by the threat of the unknown.