The demons probably wouldn't be so aggressive as to declare war on Master directly. It's a long journey, not worth a fight to the death.
Having made this deduction, Flamme suppressed her unease slightly. She had to admit that meeting a familiar face so far from home was a good thing. Mr. Lehmann, a friend with whom she'd shared life-and-death experiences, was certainly trustworthy.
She followed him toward the association.
Along the way, he proudly explained, "Although Master Serie established the association only a short time ago, its prototype has been around for much longer than a few years."
"Long ago, she would meditate and teach magic here. Many people, drawn by her reputation, created a rich magical atmosphere. You could say she single-handedly established the Magic City and brought it prosperity. It's probably been a hundred years, if you count carefully."
"A hundred years!"
Flamme was amazed. In this era of frequent warfare, it was rare for a person to live past fifty.
And yet, the founder of magic had been cultivating this place for such a long time. No wonder it had an air of ancient, profound history.
Beneath their feet, flagstones formed a wide avenue, flanked by rows of white marble pillars that guarded the visual center extending up the hillside. It was a square-shaped temple palace, majestic and towering, overlooking the city.
She could feel numerous powerful mana reactions from within.
The weather was clear, with a light breeze and faint clouds, but a mage could not look away. The mana reaction from the headquarters was too immense.
"Is that President Serie?"
"She ran into a little something today, so her mana fluctuations are more noticeable."
"So she's been managing the association's predecessor all these years?"
"No, nobody knows what Master was doing at the very beginning. She just suddenly moved here and started everything. Of course, based on some of her stories, we've guessed."
"During the Age of Myths, Master fought for years on end... Only in the era when the Goddess's miracles faded did she gradually grow weary and go into seclusion."
"Later, Master had the idea to teach magic and took on many disciples. Unwittingly, she was given a heap of legendary titles, like the founder of magic and so on."
Lehmann's tone was filled with reverence.
It was a mix of adoration and a hint of fear; after all, Serie always gave off a suppressive, warlike, and eager atmosphere.
She had not yet moved on from the wars of the Age of Myths, and the war with the demons had reignited her fighting spirit.
If there weren't so few enemies left in the world worthy of her attention, she would probably be running around outside every day, too lazy to stay in the Magic City and manage things. She was not the quiet type.
The perceptive Flamme naturally noticed Lehmann's complex feelings.
"If that's the case, the President's standards must be very high. I haven't heard of any other great mage candidates being summoned. Why was I singled out?"
"I don't know."
"—Probably because you are Frieren's only direct disciple."
Lehmann wasn't lying, but he concealed the primary and secondary reasons. The main reason was that Serie had foreseen the disaster at Elf Town. Deciding to give Flamme a heads-up, she felt the atmosphere was a bit off but didn't press further.
As they spoke, they had already arrived inside the palace, where a tall, blonde woman in a mage's robe walked towards them.
"This is the great mage Zenze. She usually serves as the President's secretary. She will take you to the council hall."
"Hello."
The greeter replied with a polite but rather cold phrase. However, no one could ignore her naturally immense mana; she was clearly exceptionally talented.
"I have military intelligence from the front lines to deal with over there, so I'll be taking my leave."
The rare reunion was brief. Though reluctant to part, Lehmann waved goodbye.
With demon squads having already infiltrated the interior, the situation was urgent. The possibility of the front lines erupting simultaneously couldn't be ruled out; one could never be too careful.
The key was Elf Town.
He had no doubt that if anything were to happen to Frieren, the demon army would advance without hesitation. Her death would be enough to shatter the morale of the allied human kingdoms and allow the surviving demon squads to wreak havoc from within. The thought was unimaginable.
Left behind, Flamme crossed the central courtyard with Zenze.
It was filled with flowers, their fragrance permeating the air. A winding stream divided it into sections for different varieties, with butterflies occasionally flitting about.
Soon, they arrived at the council hall.
What greeted her eyes was a grand hall lined with stone pillars. On a high dais opposite them, an elf with long, flowing golden hair sat cross-legged on a throne. Her figure was well-proportioned, yet her demeanor was mature, a curious smile playing on her lips.
"Not bad. It seems Frieren has a knack for teaching disciples."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, President."
"Don't be so formal. You can just call me Serie. Titles are meaningless. Only the self is fundamental—"
As she spoke, she tossed a badge over. The red-haired girl caught it and opened her hand to see the symbol of a great mage. A treasure that everyone coveted was treated so casually.
Even so, Flamme's heart pounded with excitement, her eyes shining as a smile spread across her face.
Whether the ceremony was formal or not didn't matter; what was crucial was the symbol of achievement. This is great.
It represented recognition for her years of arduous training, and it would also allow her to be of greater help in the war against the demons. Of course, it also came with a series of more practical privileges, such as tax exemption, travel passes for various regions, and discounts on trades within the association.
Of course, these things mattered to a young mage; only someone as young as Flamme would be aware of them.
In fact, most were seasoned veterans with considerable wealth who didn't care for such trifles. What they valued more was a legendary and important privilege:
"Pick a spell."
Serie snapped her fingers, and Zenze, who was beside her, handed over a notebook. It was less a book and more a collection of different magical auras, allowing a perceptive mage to better gauge their characteristics and choose freely.
The numerous precious spells that people yearned for were commonplace in her hands.
No wonder there were rumors that the president of the Magic Academy possessed a magic that allowed her to "know every spell in the world."
Dazzled by the array of spells, Flamme froze, unsure which to choose for a moment. The temptation was too great, like a mountain of gold and silver laid before her for the taking...
The next moment, she shook her head sharply and slapped her cheeks.
"I almost thought it was some kind of charm magic. What an incredible menu."
Her reaction startled both Serie and Zenze. Few mages recovered from their失態 so quickly.
This child's mental fortitude was strong, far more mature than her girlish appearance suggested.
"It's similar enough to a charm." "So, have you chosen? Don't worry about the difficulty; I can transfer my progress in the magic to you."
"There's no need for a transfer. I'll train on my own—"
"Curse-reversal magic."
As she spoke, Zenze closed the menu and stepped to the side, seeing that she was no longer needed. At that moment, Master's gaze seemed appreciative, her passion rekindled after a long time, though her words remained sharp:
"A foolish decision. A short-lived species could never master curse-reversal magic in a lifetime, but I approve."
"Given the current situation, curse-reversal magic is a good choice."
Serie also acknowledged the answer. With a wave of her hand, a thick grimoire appeared and was handed to the red-haired girl. The moment she touched it, she felt a vast amount of knowledge seep into her mind.
The grimoire was just a facade; the teaching was likely done through some kind of mind-to-mind transmission technique, ensuring perfect secrecy.
She still high-handedly planned to transfer a portion of her insights to allow the genius to blossom quickly.
"Hm?"
The view from the top of the world was magnificent, yet also fraught with danger. It was best not to get involved, or several lifetimes wouldn't be enough.
Suddenly, she furrowed her brow.
"Your mind is powerfully protected by a certain force. It must be Frieren's work, right?" Serie nodded with interest.
"She's too protective of her disciple. What a pain. In that case, you can study the book on your own." Her tone was full of disdain, but she looked forward to the girl's learning efficiency.
"Thank you, Senior Serie," Flamme said hesitantly. "I have one more bold request. May I learn it together with my master, Frieren?"
"Absolutely no problem. I'd even be happy to have all my magic made public. Do as you please."
"Thank..."
"Stop with the 'thank yous'. Let me see your magic. Soul Magic, is it? Show me."
At her words, the red-haired girl created a soul crystal spear. She started with the simple and direct, then moved on to the Ancient Clock of Death, Heroic Spirit Warriors, Soul Healing, Soul-Splitting Aegis, and even Soul-Guided Physical Transformation, though she held back the dragonification-level enhancement.
The council hall simply wasn't big enough. What if she blew the roof off? Would she have to pay for it?
The hall fell silent.
Even though she had heard rumors, Serie showed a hint of astonishment. The other mages were dumbfounded, never imagining that Soul Magic could be manifested so tangibly.
Its performance wasn't the most critical part; rather, it proved that the soul existed and could even be used as a medium for casting spells.
"This is magic I know nothing about... One or two spells would be normal, but I don't understand an entire system. How special."
Her expression shifted from surprise to joy, and she finally descended from her throne.
"I never expected you and Frieren could give me so many surprises."
The mana reaction from Serie intensified, a vast pressure spreading out. The accumulated years of dullness were swept away, replaced by a fervent energy that transformed into a howling gale, whistling through the hall.
This felt right.
The Age of Myths had grown distant. The long period of stagnation was over. A prosperous era of magic was about to arrive.
"Stay a while longer. If you're here, I can teach you more magic."
"I'm Master Frieren's disciple. Wouldn't that be improper?"
"Do I look like someone who steals other people's students?"
Serie waved her hand dismissively, but Zenze and the other great mages kept their eyes fixed ahead, not believing her in the slightest.
Some of them had been openly poached.
Collecting geniuses was one of her few hobbies. Though her words were sharp, she was actually very tolerant.
For the venerable founder of magic to promise personal instruction, without caring for formalities like apprenticeship ceremonies, was the highest form of courtesy. Anyone else would have wept with joy, yet Flamme's reaction was placid. She answered almost without hesitation:
"No, thank you."
"Then just stay here a while longer, as a gesture of the association's hospitality. You can witness the forefront of magical research."
Unfazed by the rejection, Serie continued her attempt to win her over.
"I appreciate the kind offer, but this is not the time for delays. I must return to the village as soon as possible."
"No."
"Why? It seems you are all trying to stop me?"
At these words, the council hall fell silent.
Those who didn't know the situation tried to think of an excuse, but Serie's disciples knew she was incapable of lying.
Sure enough, she answered openly: "Elf Town will be attacked by a demon decapitation squad led by Grausam the Miracle-Worker and Macht of the Golden Land. They have a team composition ranging from warriors to assassins; it's practically an army. It will be quite a lively battle."
Flamme was stunned.
Zenze then asked, "Wait, Master, have you foreseen new intelligence? Have you confirmed the identity of another one of the Seven Sages of Destruction?"
"Send word. Dispatch people to gather at Elf Town and maintain contact."
"And strengthen the front-line defenses. I expect the demons can't hold back any longer. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, the era will change."
"Yes, but I can't see the rest clearly. After all, I don't truly possess Future Sight—"
"But I'm sure Schlacht can't see clearly either. He's gambling."
"What will happen to Master?"
"A character like that isn't a problem for Frieren, but unfortunately, she's not in good condition, and the All-Knowing has caught her off guard. So it might be a bit troublesome. I can't say for sure."
"Merely troublesome, not dire?" Flamme immediately grasped the key point.
"Interpret it as you will."
The more distant future was a chaotic mystery to Serie, unpredictable. Who knew what earth-shattering events might occur?
Regardless, she believed in this mysterious junior. It would be good to watch the show.
She might have to make a trip herself if necessary, but there was no need for that now. She would let things develop for a while first.
She wasn't in a hurry, but Flamme was not the type to remain calm.
"If I try to leave, will you stop me?"
"Originally, I was planning to force you to stay." As Serie spoke these faint words, her oppressive presence locked onto Flamme, retarding her mana circulation as if with a sealing spell.
The red-haired girl was horrified. Such an ability existed, and it was used so casually. If her opponent was determined, there would be no escape; the outcome would be decided in an instant.
She was still far from the pinnacle, yet for some reason, she felt only anticipation.
"But you are very skilled, and potential is no reason to be conservative. This era has a greater need for powerhouses born from life-and-death struggles."
"You may go."
Flamme was first overjoyed, but then she frowned.
"...It's too far from the northern lands to the central region. I'm afraid I won't make it in time. I don't have enough mana to fly the whole way."
"I'll give you a hand."
Serie lightly tapped the red-haired girl's forehead, infusing her with a bottomless well of mana, so vast it was enough to be squandered all the way to Elf Town, guaranteeing she could fly at top speed the entire journey.
She expressed her support with practical action. Go on and try.
Was this battle not a life-changing opportunity?
And it was also interesting to see Frieren's plan to send her disciple away fall through. You were wrong; mages are meant to fight.
Go.
Maintaining her enhanced form would be faster.
The staff in the council hall watched, mouths agape, as the great dragon departed, even forgetting to breathe.
It was really possible! So Flamme had been holding back. Based on this mana reaction alone, she was probably on par with the top great mages. And at such a young age!
In contrast, Serie actually laughed out loud, a complete departure from her usual aloof and indifferent aura.
Things were getting more and more exciting. The combat power converging on Elf Town would be enough to annihilate a major nation, leaving a permanent legend in the central continent.
Elf Town · The Winery.
The figures of elves bustled in the fields, and from time to time, merchant caravans would haul away heavily laden cargo.
Freshly picked grapes were transported immediately. Since the ground was paved with smooth flagstones, there was very little jostling, which both prevented unnecessary losses and was simple and efficient. The fermentation process could begin right away.
And for Elf Town's special industry, fermentation, the most time-consuming step, was paradoxically the easiest.
Miriadel was seen using a wine flagon to sprinkle fragrance all around.
With a unique yeast starter, the wine was rapidly taking shape. As her research deepened, she discovered that her unique wine-brewing magic could cover the entire process.
It felt amazing.
With just a little mana, she could sell fine wine for immense profit.
Supporting a mere thousand people to live a prosperous life was incredibly simple. The village changed its look almost daily, and many elves now had large mansions and were much more active than before.
Although the winery was the most expansive area, not many elves were directly involved in the work; it was mostly handled by hired professionals.
A large portion of the elves were at the bank.
So, after routinely using her wine-brewing magic, Miriadel began to check the accounts, which were all related to the flow of savings, as well as extended services like loans, insurance, and interest—a dense wall of monetary figures.
She expertly committed them to memory or signed them off, unable to resist muttering:
"I should be drinking my morning wine right now. Why am I so busy... Did I just find myself a tiring job?"
"The village owes so much to you, Miss Adel."
"It is a bit busier, but I feel like that strange, boring, and anxious atmosphere is gone."
"Right. I used to have more and more things to do, but now it's better."
Hearing this, Miriadel smiled. It was indeed a good thing.
Otherwise, it's not a good sign for a long-lived species to experience memory loss. The consequences of letting the elves continue to wear down like this would be unthinkable.
Oh well.
It was a bit busy, but according to Frieren, she was doing something meaningful, so it was no loss.
She could even feel her body becoming lighter, her senses sharper...
Of course, it was more likely because she was too busy and drank less wine.
Setting aside her thoughts, she continued to verify the accounts, discussing every detail with the elves in charge of the vault.
Although Miriadel didn't care much about money, she was happy to see the numbers grow.
Plus, the town was expanding at a visible rate, even attracting some humans and dwarves to settle long-term, making it look lively.
"Hm?"
Working at her desk, she suddenly looked up towards a small courtyard, the place where Frieren lay sleeping.
An unstable mana fluctuation emanated from it, and it was mana of a psychic attribute. What was she up to now?
The short-haired girl glanced around, but even the mages of her own kind were completely unaware.
"Is it too subtle? Am I the only one who can recognize it?"
It was no boast; excluding her sleeping best friend and the Water Mirror Demon standing guard at the town gate, she was unquestionably the strongest.
"That's not quite right. It's an energy I'm already familiar with... the aura of a high-ranking Old God!"
It sent a shiver down her spine in broad daylight.
She was inexplicably reminded of the time Frieren lost control and pulled her into a subspace. Miriadel was thus very sensitive to it and immediately guessed that something had happened during her slumber, causing the Old God of the Moon to stir, attempting to permeate reality.
What kind of dangerous experiment was she conducting?
"File these documents for now. I'll be gone for a bit."
The agitated short-haired girl left quickly, making her way to Frieren's room.
She paced back and forth outside, having just remembered that the barrier wouldn't let her in...
On a whim, she touched it lightly and then smoothly entered the courtyard.
"She clearly said she couldn't let a drunkard disturb her, yet she still gave me permission? Frieren, you..."
Miriadel opened the door.
Entering the bedroom, she indeed saw its sleeping master, dressed in a loose pear-colored gown, a cascade of silver hair spread out, her hands crossed over her stomach.
She was sleeping in a picture-perfect posture, but her furrowed brow indicated it was not a pleasant dream. Just as she'd guessed.
She wanted to help but knew better than to interfere rashly.
When it came to the domain of psychic magic, she was not just unlearned, but utterly clueless.
And she was certain that while Frieren appeared completely defenseless on the surface, any dangerous move would trigger a host of countermeasures, and several lifetimes wouldn't be enough to survive them.
After some thought, Miriadel simply started trimming the garden lawn and watering the plants.
It was nearly overgrown.
As expected, without Flamme around, she didn't care about the details, letting even her own home become overgrown. Only now did she remember that she usually relied on the lazy child for reminders.
"Watering the flowers like this once in a while isn't so bad."
Enjoying the tranquility, the short-haired girl carried a watering can and hummed a little tune.
Even though she knew the person in the room behind her was in a bad state, just being here gave her a sense of security. She believed Frieren could definitely solve it; it was just a small ripple.
She had seen Frieren get into all sorts of trouble since they were young; there was no need to worry about a minor disturbance.
As she was thinking, she saw the village chief, Sharpe, pass by.
Although he had more and more to manage, he still tilled the fields from time to time, just as before. He was even carrying a hoe.
The two elves, neglecting their duties, looked at each other and smiled.
"By the way, I heard from a traveling merchant that there have been sightings of demons in the interior... I wonder if they'll target us?"
"You worry too much sometimes. Even if they attack, we'll just have to fight."
"That doesn't sound like you."
"True. In the past, I was alone and didn't care. I could always run if I couldn't win. It's different now. The town has developed so much, and we've had so many guests. I can't let it suddenly turn into ruins."
"Right. It's just that this news makes me vaguely nervous. Anyway, I'm going to check on the vineyard. See you later."
The elves hadn't forgotten what Frieren had mentioned before about the demons' schemes.
The battle between them was not yet over.
They wouldn't rest until they had been dealt a devastating blow. So everyone was mentally prepared and didn't pay too much mind to some dangerous rumors.
Of course, Miriadel, holding the authority over the town's barrier, couldn't relax.
After watering the flowers for a while, she pushed open the courtyard's fence gate and headed towards the town entrance, which was also the forefront where the barrier was most concentrated—a place of utmost importance.
Treading on the grass growing between the road's paving stones, her dress became damp with dew. It took her a while to reach a floral archway.
The town was much larger than before, having been expanded several times.
It was quite a distance from the original residential area of concentrated mansions to here.
"Good morning."
Even knowing the Water Mirror Demon replica wouldn't answer, she greeted it as usual.
The white-haired girl turned her head and nodded, still sitting on a stone beside the gatepost like a statue. She wore leather shoes and even had a magpie's nest on her head.
It hadn't moved in a long time.
______
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