About a week had passed since the birds were brought to the church in Hage Village.
The flock had settled in quickly.
At first the younger children had watched them constantly, running outside every few minutes to see what the birds were doing. But after a few days, they became a normal part of the church yard.
And soon, they began laying eggs.
That morning, the long wooden table inside the church felt different.
Small bowls had been placed in front of every child.
Inside each bowl was something rare.
Eggs.
The younger children stared in disbelief.
"Eggs?!"
"Everyone gets one?"
One of them picked it up carefully before quickly starting to eat.
Across the table, Father Orsi chuckled.
"Well," he said, "looks like those birds were a good investment after all."
Several of the children turned toward Asta.
"Thanks, Asta!"
"Are we going to have eggs every day now?"
One of the younger kids lifted his bowl hopefully.
Asta scratched the back of his head.
"…Not every day."
He pointed toward the yard outside.
"If we take care of them properly, they'll keep laying eggs."
Nash looked curious.
"So we just feed them?"
"Pretty much," Asta replied.
Sitting nearby, Sister Lily smiled warmly as she watched the children eating happily.
It had been a long time since everyone in the church could enjoy something like this together.
Asta quietly finished his food.
Training always made him hungry.
---
After breakfast, the children returned to their usual chores.
Asta stepped outside and looked toward the forest.
The memory of the wild boar from a week ago was still fresh in his mind.
Running away had worked that time.
But next time might be different.
Bare hands definitely weren't enough.
He had already thought about making a spear.
A wooden spear would be easy to carve. Even a stone spear might work for hunting small animals like rabbits or birds.
But that boar…
Asta remembered the thick hide and curved tusks.
"…Yeah. No way."
A weak wooden spear would probably bounce off something like that.
Animals in this world were stronger than normal ones. Even without being magical beasts, the mana in the environment seemed to make them tougher.
If he wanted something that could actually hurt a creature like that…
He needed iron.
An axe would work.
The problem was obvious.
The tools in the church belonged to Father Orsi.
If Asta simply asked to take an axe deep into the forest, the answer would definitely be no.
Asta thought for a moment.
Then an idea formed.
Firewood.
The church always needed firewood.
If he volunteered to gather it regularly, then using the axe would be completely normal.
Asta nodded and walked toward the back of the church.
---
Father Orsi was organizing tools near the wood pile.
"Father," Asta said.
Father Orsi looked down.
"Yes?"
"I was thinking… I could help gather firewood for the church."
Father Orsi raised an eyebrow.
"You?"
Asta nodded.
"There's a lot of fallen wood near the forest. I'm already outside training most days anyway."
Father Orsi studied him for a moment.
A six-year-old asking to chop wood wasn't exactly normal.
But Asta had proven something over the past year.
The boy trained constantly.
He carried things heavier than most children his age.
And he rarely complained.
Finally Father Orsi sighed.
"Well… the church can always use more firewood."
He picked up the iron axe from beside the wood pile.
"But if you're going to use this, you do it properly."
He placed a thick log on the chopping block.
"Watch first."
The axe rose.
Then came down.
THUD.
The log split cleanly.
"Control matters more than strength," Father Orsi said calmly.
He adjusted the position of the log.
"Keep your feet apart. If you lose balance, the blade could slip."
Then he handed the axe to Asta.
"Your turn."
Asta gripped the handle.
The tool felt heavy in his hands.
He raised it carefully.
Then brought it down.
THUD.
The log cracked slightly but didn't split.
Father Orsi nodded.
"Again."
Asta lifted the axe once more.
THUD.
This time the crack widened.
Piece by piece, the wood finally split apart.
Father Orsi crossed his arms.
"For a first day, that's not bad."
Asta wiped sweat from his forehead.
"…Thanks."
---
Over the next several days, chopping firewood became part of Asta's routine.
Each swing of the axe felt like training.
Balance.
Strength.
Control.
Sometimes the blade struck perfectly.
Other times it landed sideways.
But slowly, his movements improved.
Soon the logs began splitting faster.
One afternoon, while collecting fallen wood near the forest, Asta paused.
His thoughts drifted toward the future.
One day he would receive a grimoire.
And with it…
The enormous anti-magic swords.
One sword stood out clearly in his memory.
The massive Demon-Slayer Sword.
It was enormous.
Far larger than any normal weapon.
If he waited until that day to learn sword control, handling something that big would be extremely difficult.
But if he started practicing now…
Then later he could focus on controlling anti-magic itself instead of learning basic sword movement.
Asta nodded slowly.
"…Alright."
---
That afternoon he walked deeper into the forest near the giant skull clearing.
He searched carefully.
The first fallen trunk he tried was soft and cracked too easily.
"Too weak."
The next one was partly rotten.
He moved on.
Finally he found a thick fallen tree trunk that still felt solid.
"This one."
Using the axe, he began carving.
Piece by piece, he cut away the wood.
The shape slowly began forming.
It took a long time.
By the time he finished, the sun had already started lowering behind the trees.
Asta leaned the wooden sword against the trunk and stepped back.
"…Big."
It wasn't nearly as massive as the Demon-Slayer Sword.
But compared to his own height, it was still oversized.
Perfect for training.
He grabbed the handle with both hands and lifted it.
The weight dragged down on his arms.
Heavy.
Unbalanced.
Exactly what he wanted.
If he could control something like this now…
Then someday controlling the Demon-Slayer Sword would be easier.
Asta rested the wooden blade against his shoulder and looked toward the giant skull looming over the clearing.
A grin slowly appeared on his face.
"When the day comes…"
"When my grimoire appears…"
"I'll be ready."