No news is good news. For the largest settlement of the elven race, where a century can pass like a single quiet day, stability is the norm. Even if things now seem to change from one day to the next, it's nothing in the grand river of history. Everyone remained calm and collected.
Similarly, Miriadel breathed a sigh of relief seeing that the barrier arts and the guards were functioning normally.
She sat beside the replica, sipping a bit of wine. The flavor was rich and mellow.
Passersby would occasionally greet her. After Frieren, the Mage of the God's Era, another celebrity had emerged: this Brewmaster.
"Why isn't my title 'Mage'?"
Although she had some minor complaints, she was generally satisfied, as it was a recognition of her hobby. She never expected that her seemingly useless brewing magic could be brought to such prominence. What a strange era this was.
"Wait!"
Suddenly, she called out to a coachman driving a cart. He turned his head with a dazed look.
"You there. It's strange, you clearly seem confused, yet there's no sign you've been drinking... How did you manage that?"
Miriadel's brow furrowed. The coachman also frowned slightly, the veins on the hand holding the reins bulging as the muscles all over his body tensed, as if preparing to make a move.
"Could it be that a new, less aromatic wine has appeared on the market!"
"..."
"Would you mind telling me its name?"
"My apologies, it's just some privately brewed drink with a local flavor. The fermentation isn't very strong. After all, I have a cart to drive, so I can't drink too much, right?"
"That's true, but I still feel something is off. Hey, what do you think?"
She poked the replica's cheek. It suddenly stood up and silently positioned itself in the middle of the road. Even its usually vacant face showed a hint of vigilance. It even raised its staff and began to channel mana.
Something's wrong. Very wrong. What detail did I miss?
She couldn't tell, but since the replica had reacted, Miriadel wouldn't ignore it. She had to be careful.
"Sorry, you can't enter."
The short-haired girl gave a signal to those behind her. The elven mages, who were also on guard, immediately assumed a ready stance and evacuated the ordinary people nearby. The atmosphere grew tense; they had to be prepared.
Even so, she didn't really have a good way to verify her target.
The coachman pleaded, "My lord, I'm in a hurry. I have a pass and trade records. If you take a look, you should be able to trust me. I'm just doing business..."
The replica suddenly pressed its temples, casting a wary glance at the visitor before staring intently at Miriadel.
"It's mind control!"
Almost simultaneously, she slammed a fist into the coachman's face, a purification spell channeled with it. This level of priestly ability wasn't difficult. As expected, he crumpled to the ground with a clatter, clarity returning to his eyes, his expression gaining a hint of intellect.
"That's strange, how did I get here—"
Before he could finish, the coachman began to solidify and stiffen from head to toe, covered in a golden sheen. In the blink of an eye, he had turned into a golden sculpture.
"Diagold?"
This time, it was Miriadel's turn to be grabbed by the collar by the replica and thrown back into the barrier. In mid-air, she adjusted her posture to absorb the force and landed steadily.
But as soon as she was stable, she found that the Water Mirror Demon replica's feet had turned to gold, immobilizing it. That golden tint was still spreading up its body.
Although various buffs and blessings lit up across its form, none were effective. The irreversible curse was seeping in. Even the unlucky merchants who hadn't retreated in time were turned into statues, the process happening even faster for them.
At the last possible moment, it removed the flower from its hair, preparing to throw with both its left and right hands.
Pow!
The next moment, both its arms were severed. Rivale and Macht had appeared in a flash, attacking from either side. A mountain-cleaving battle-axe and a golden blade easily sawed through its body. The two Flowers of Aeonia slowly drooped.
"It's not over. Get out of here, quickly."
The illusionist's urgent reminder sounded. In that instant, the Water Mirror Demon, with astonishing lung capacity, blew the crimson flowers away.
Blooming furiously in the wind, their beautiful petals instantly swelled to tens of meters.
The goal was an indiscriminate strike to create a defensive zone of contamination across the entire forest. Regardless of whether demons were present, everything was for the safety of the village.
Boom!
Scarlet Rot descended from the sky, dyeing the moss a brilliant crimson that scattered specks of light. Heaven and earth became one color. The plants and trees caught in the middle rapidly twisted and mutated, forming mushroom-like growths that in turn scattered more spore-like Scarlet Rot.
To be touched by it was certain death. Two demon mages who couldn't dodge in time withered away, their flesh and blood replaced by new, abnormal organs before they died.
Their bodies fell to the earth and quickly sank, becoming a part of it.
The power that claimed to be a miracle overwrote the original forest ecosystem, forcibly reconstructing a new cycle of reincarnation. Some of the native beasts became shrimp-like insects, screeching hoarsely. Their language was unintelligible, but they were surely praising the cycle.
Inside the barrier, all was safe.
But Miriadel and her party, standing at the edge, were all dumbfounded. Was it really that explosive?
The move was decisive enough, instantly taking out two demon mages, while their other comrades also had patches of rotting flesh on them.
That's right. As the forest receded, the visitors were finally revealed.
A "golden sphere" at the nearest point dispersed; it was formed from Macht's robes, enveloping both himself and Rivale, saving them from the disaster. Farther away, Grausam was also unharmed. Having noticed it first, he naturally responded in time, so it wasn't a loss.
They had lost two weaklings who weren't even Great Demons, while the enemy's strongest combatant had now become a statue.
The replica, its arms severed, still stood tall, its back straight, gazing forward. Even though it was already coated in golden dust, one could feel a sharp gaze.
As if it was certain it would fight again.
But who in this world could dispel Diagold? The situation was decided.
Despite this, they all felt their bodies itching and faintly aching, and their mana had an abnormal quality. Surviving the massive bloom of the Flower of Aeonia didn't mean they were safe; the long-term contamination was also terrifying.
Fortunately, the caster's control was exquisite, more stable than the time at the northern fortress:
The scarlet soil automatically skirted the edge of the barrier, not crossing the line by a single step.
"Get into the village quickly, or we'll die just the same staying in this forest of Scarlet Rot," Grausam urged.
"Shut up, I know."
"Causing such a commotion right at the start of the battle. How interesting."
Macht and Rivale strode forward. Following them, the members of their squad appeared one by one, a total of 4 Great Demons and 2 of the Seven Sages of Destruction. All were familiar faces, their iconic attire marking them as renowned killing machines on the battlefield.
And now they advanced together, their oppressive presence like footsteps on everyone's heart. All held their breath.
Miriadel stood at the very front, gripping her staff tightly. In the blink of an eye, she was the one who had to hold the line.
The world was absurd. But there was one piece of good news:
Diagold hadn't penetrated the barrier yet.
She silently thanked Frieren's combination of barrier and sealing arts, which were truly formidable, but she was also incredibly anxious.
Huh? I have to fight the Seven Sages of Destruction?
Miriadel felt like she was the most stressed person in the world right now.
The sense of security she usually got from having the Water Mirror Demon replica at the front was completely shattered. Now, no matter how reluctant, she had to become the backbone. If she panicked, morale would undoubtedly crumble.
"Retaliate!"
Since the barrier was one-way, the elven mages' spells could easily pass through to blanket the enemy.
The automated counter-attack formations hovering in the sky all fired at once.
The demons, of course, were not to be outdone. They met the massive magical firepower head-on, countering with even greater power.
They seemed nonchalant, as if it posed no threat, simply a mutual exchange of mana. They could even precisely intercept the elves' magic.
Both sides' desire to win was tested in a no-holds-barred exchange of spells, with booming explosions echoing in all directions.
Fire burned, wind howled, dyeing the once-vast skyline with flames, which, combined with the landscape already washed in Scarlet Rot, was a grand spectacle indeed.
The forest was screaming.
Unfortunately, the elves' mana couldn't compare to the power of numerous Great Demons.
They failed to inflict any effective damage. A large portion of their spells were intercepted, at best serving as a distraction.
Even so, it couldn't stop Grausam from standing at the edge of the barrier and touching it, actively analyzing and probing for a breakthrough. This action made him the primary target for everyone in the village, and a series of explosions erupted around him.
However, they could not get past Macht's protection.
He even had the spare energy to envelop a massive glintstone above with a golden shell to prevent suppression from the air.
The "gold" created by Diagold was not actually gold, but an extremely stable and hard substance with similar properties. It could be softened into robes or used as an indestructible shield.
Those turned to gold were also unmovable; for years, numerous victims have remained in the exact pose they were in when attacked.
It was as if time had frozen for them. They had become gold forever, and no one knew what would happen if the curse was lifted. If it could be lifted.
Thump!
Suddenly, one of the Great Demons collapsed on the spot, fast asleep, its face flushed as if drunk. It couldn't be woken up.
"Is this... wine?"
They had dismissed this human recreational item as insignificant, yet one of their comrades was now dead drunk. Even after being slapped a few times and barely managing to stand, he was still staggering, drooling even after being healed.
Not only that, but a strange alcoholic aroma continued to spread, even interfering with their mana.
A mage tried to dispel the curse but found it had little effect.
Miriadel pointed at them mockingly and said, "Give up. My brewing magic isn't so easily dispelled. Plus, you're now afflicted with Scarlet Rot. Let's see who outlasts whom. Just wait for death."
Hearing her words, the villagers relaxed a little. Indeed, no one would dare underestimate the terrifying effect of multiple stacked negative statuses.
Grausam glanced over but remained silent, continuing to analyze the barrier.
Whoosh!
The demons collectively released their mana in a lavish display, forcibly resisting the abnormal status effects and managing to halt the corrosion's progress. The one who had been drunk finally sobered up a bit.
Rivale laughed heartily.
"Your efforts are too half-baked. Only that replica had some skill, but it missed its chance to protect you."
"That's because it knew that keeping me alive was its insurance policy. As for why, you wouldn't want to find out."
"Tough talk. With me and Macht attacking together, even Frieren would be useless."
"The real her could catch your blades with her bare hands—no, she would move so fast there wouldn't be any openings. Don't think you're so great just because you dealt with the Water Mirror Demon. That's not even the tip of the iceberg."
"Then let her come out, so I can see for myself."
"I'm more than enough to deal with you."
The next moment, Miriadel actively increased her mana output. It wasn't simple brewing magic, but vast, deadly magic, overflowing with light.
The one-way barrier allowed her attacks to easily penetrate, and several beams of light shot forth.
"Be careful."
Even Grausam issued a warning. Upon first contact, the demons realized this magic was very similar to the demon-slaying magic that was becoming popular on the front lines.
In this person's hands, it was even more refined, likely the result of considerable research. Ordinary protections wouldn't block it.
The pure warriors among the demons, led by Rivale, quickly fell back, while the mages maintained their defensive posture to intercept.
However, the other elven mages were no slouches either. They coordinated with Miriadel's offensive to launch a bombardment.
Blood splattered amidst the beams of light; an enemy had been wounded.
But it was far from a time to celebrate.
Their side's attack power and coverage were insufficient, and they had to remain stationary within the barrier, often giving the demons a chance to dodge.
In terms of overall magical proficiency, the attacking side had an overwhelming advantage.
Even if they inflicted some damage on the demons, it couldn't change the tilted scales of power. The enemy was filled with "one-hit kill" curse attacks. A single touch meant death; they couldn't relax for a moment.
The bombardment from both sides reached a stalemate, and the entire barrier was shaking violently.
Macht said, "I'll cover Grausam. The rest of you, don't just crowd the entrance. Attack the barrier from different angles, at different frequencies, and with different intensities to create a load. It's the dumbest but most effective method. Meanwhile, we'll work on breaking it."
The demons dispersed.
"Thanks. I couldn't have focused on the analysis otherwise."
"If it weren't for His Majesty and the All-Knowing One's orders, I'd wish for you to die here. Stop talking nonsense and break it, quickly."
"This barrier incorporates many unknown formulas. Truly the work of a Mage of the God's Era... I'll have to try to detonate it. It's going to get loud in a moment."
Miriadel grew anxious watching the enemy settle down to break the barrier.
Whether she could resist the curse was an unknown. The few strategies she and Frieren had researched had never been tested.
Moreover, the others were completely defenseless. Letting the demons in would be the end.
"Focus your attacks on that illusionist."
"Wishful thinking."
Macht waved his hand, and flakes of gold scattered like butterflies, forming a defensive wall by his side. Considering its immutable and non-malleable properties against mana, it was the hardest metal in the world, perfect for defense.
Not to be outdone, Miriadel unleashed a coordinated spell centered on herself.
BOOM!
The incandescent white light crashed violently against the brilliant golden wall, neither giving an inch. The shockwave vaporized the trees in the scarlet forest.
A violent wind raged, the ground rumbled, and the sky darkened. What was more terrifying was that this was not burst damage but focused on sustainability. The continuous friction of energy caused space itself to warp and scream.
Meanwhile, the other demons bombarded the barrier from various angles.
Everyone was giving their all, yet both sides were inadvertently creating a load. Knowing this, both defenders and attackers clenched their teeth and persisted. This was their only chance.
A cloud of an explosion erupted from the ground, the solid rock layer rippling like water.
Macht and Grausam were engulfed in the blast, their auras in disarray. It was a direct hit, yet the elves' faces were like frost.
Crack!
An alarming crack spread rapidly. The barrier was about to shatter.
Miriadel took a deep breath, gathered her mana, and this time, aimed a fierce shot at Frieren's house.
"Sorry about this. Wake up."
Although she knew her friend had shielded herself from nearly all non-active methods of waking, she had to fire this shot. She couldn't do nothing.
As expected, Miriadel's magic easily destroyed the courtyard, but the small house remained unharmed as layers of barriers lit up. But a wisp of soul fluctuation did emerge from within, not the peacefulness of deep sleep.
Even if it was an unconventional, unauthorized method, as long as it worked.
"I know your situation is dangerous right now, but mine's no better. I hope we make it through this."
She apologized verbally, but her actions were filled with resolve.
Frieren had long ago instructed her that if the elf settlement was attacked, she should cast aside all concern for her own safety and forcibly wake her. The means didn't matter; only the result was important.
Crash!
At that moment, the barrier completely shattered. Worried about her friend's condition, she had no choice but to look away.
It had already done its absolute best. To have held on for so long was a feat in itself. No one could have predicted that the demons would deploy such forces and defeat both the Water Mirror Demon and the great barrier, their dual lines of defense.
Miriadel braced herself.
However, it wasn't the demons who emerged from the dust and smoke, but a wind of golden powder that swept past, and all the elves it touched began to turn to gold.
Her body, included, gradually lost sensation. It wasn't that she couldn't move, but more like it had never existed in the first place. She watched helplessly as it spread from her feet, devouring her life force bit by bit.
The terrifying thing wasn't life or death, but would consciousness remain? If her consciousness was trapped within this golden statue, it would be a fate worse than death.
The blood-stained Macht and Grausam were the first to step into the small town, followed by a host of demons.
They had arrived.
Their feet finally touched the soil of the elf settlement. Before them were rows of glittering golden statues. Not a single one was spared; all had become sacrifices to the curse.
"I've always been curious, are those affected by Diagold alive or dead?"
"I don't know. Consider it a special state of existence. They remain without consciousness in the moment before being turned to gold, but the curse won't be lifted even if I die. Besides, I haven't yet mastered a way to dispel it."
"You'd best not entertain such thoughts. An unsolvable Diagold is what makes for the strongest of the Seven Sages of Destruction."
"My understanding is different from yours. Only a caster who fully comprehends and masters their own magic can be considered competent."
The two did not see eye to eye.
Now that the Diagold had covered everything, it could basically be concluded that the elven race was extinct. After all, the curse was unsolvable, a fate more terrifying than death. Even the one who cast it didn't know how to undo it.
Rivale patted his axe boredly and asked, "Is that it? It's over?"
"Don't be impatient. We still have one more mission: kill Frieren."
The demons all looked towards the inconspicuous little house, enveloped in powerful layers of barriers. It would likely take some effort, but fortunately, there was no response from the target.
The oracle's prophecy was completely correct.
They had arrived precisely during Frieren's slumber, ensuring she was powerless to resist. All they had to do was deal with the seal.
Of course, that wasn't easy either. To this day, one thing still shocked them: this barrier could even filter out curses.
She absolutely could not be allowed to continue her research, or she would cause a lot of trouble for the demons.
The squad advanced towards the small house, the only remaining source of life, forming an encirclement to leave no chance for escape. Even if the target had a way to forcibly awaken, they could launch a preemptive strike.
"Wait!"
Suddenly, a voice from behind stopped them.
The demons couldn't help but turn around. They were completely shocked to see the gold gradually receding from Miriadel's body. Something was different about her. It was her eyes.
Her gaze carried an intense mental contamination, a superior's command echoing in their minds as a new quality of mana arose. They were slitted pupils. The canines in her mouth instantly elongated, and sharp claws grew from her ten fingers, giving her the ferocious aura of a monster.
She had ultimately risked using the Hunter's Stance, which held a sliver of an Old God's power, but it came with the latent danger of the Beast Scourge. It was not a long-term solution.
But there was no other choice.
Grausam said coldly, "Now you must die. How foolish. Couldn't you have just waited for us to leave before dispelling it? You could have been the sole survivor."
"You will not set your filthy feet in Frieren's room."
Miriadel's demeanor changed again, becoming thoroughly aggressive, her intimidating presence soaring.
Macht, whose attack had failed, was naturally unwilling to accept it. He used Diagold once more, but the short-haired girl's body flickered, and there was no reaction.
It was as if her status had been refreshed, rendering it completely ineffective. He tried again, and the refresh was even faster.
"...So that's how it is. Soul magic? A change in the soul can actively override the body's state!"
"That's not all. There's another unknown power protecting her, especially her mind. My Paradise Magic actually isn't working."
"Grausam, Macht, you're overthinking it. Let's just fight."
Whoosh!
An excited Rivale charged with his massive battle-axe, like a whirlwind, his momentum unstoppable. With such power, he could split a city gate.
However, he only saw his opponent stand perfectly still, her hand a blur of motion before a crisp crack echoed.
A supremely exquisite strike had hit the weapon's point of imbalance; those sharp eyes had perceived it keenly.
Immediately after, the tip of Miriadel's staff pierced through his abdomen.
"It's not as good as Frieren's technique, but in this state, I can still pull off a bit of a parry."
She didn't press the attack to create a larger wound, instead stepping back to create distance. Sure enough, a large crater blasted open where she had just been standing, sizzling with heat.
"Hey, don't hog the fight."
"Rivale, this is not your personal duel. This is about the great cause of the demon race," Grausam reprimanded before changing the subject.
"My intuition tells me you hold the 'key' to Frieren's awakening, don't you?"
"But it's also dangerous, so you're hesitating? In your current state, you're no match for us. How about we make a deal?"
"Give us the 'key' and the method to use it, and we'll let you go."
"So demons can have flights of fancy too."
Miriadel refused with a firm attitude. To be honest, her heart was pounding, but the words that came out were calm and composed with a strange stability.
Was she hesitating? Not really; she just felt excited.
The last surviving elf facing off against numerous Great Demons. It was thrilling enough. Who had time for idle thoughts?
The next moment, Rivale charged again. In a clash of titans, she, having completely changed her fighting style, battled with him amidst a flurry of blades and sword shadows that carved the ground full of ravines.
The strongest warrior of the demons lived up to his name, but the pressure still wasn't enough.
Pow!
The two locked weapons for a brief moment before pulling apart. This was to evade the pursuit of the other Great Demons. If this continued, she would sooner or later be defeated.
If she died, no one would be left to open the dream. More importantly, could the situation get any worse? With the town under Diagold, it was equivalent to extinction. With the elves gone, was there any need to consider anything else?
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and drew a white tentacle from the flask at her side.
______
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