Chapter 121: Making the Elven Miss Understand Feelings
"Actually..." Serie's voice had a kind of innocent, yet chilling, serenity to it. "I was just thinking, if Eirik were to remain as the Demon King, and this chaos and threat were to continue, wouldn't the world be a more interesting place?"
Rhodes stopped in his tracks.
But she didn't seem to notice and continued, "Think about it. A powerful Demon King, with the power of a goddess... it would force the other races to unite, and a new war would begin. And in that war, magic would once again flourish, just as it had in the War of the Mythical Age. And then, we would fight, and fight..."
"Serie, that's not a good way to think," he said, and turned to her, his hands gently, but firmly, squeezing her cheeks. "War isn't so interesting. It brings only pain and destruction. Do you want the Elven Kingdom to suffer the same fate as the Great Elven Forest?"
With his help, the Elven Kingdom had been spared. But the decline of the elven race was now irreversible. They would not go extinct, as they would have in the original future, but they would never be the same.
The elven miss was silent. No, she did not want that.
"And I believe that Eirik is waiting for his release. We can't let him suffer any longer."
His earnest, serious tone seemed to get through to her. Was he right? she wondered.
She opened her mouth, as if to argue, but she didn't know what to say. "But... if one day, you're not here... what will I do?" she mumbled.
Before him, she had loved the chaos of this age, had loved the war. But with him... adventuring with him had also been interesting. But he was just a fleeting human, his life a mere hundred years. Once he was gone, how would she spend the long, long years of her own life?
In the end, she would have to return to her original state: war and chaos. It was the best way to pass the time.
"It's alright," he said, his voice softening. "I will always be by your side. I'm not going anywhere."
He knew that her words were not born of malice. It was just the long life, the detached emotions of an elf that made her see things from such a distant perspective. He had to make her understand what it was like to be human, to understand Eirik's pain. Only then, step by step, could he make her understand human feelings.
"Eirik is our partner. He once fought to protect us, but now, what he needs is peace. To help him end his suffering... that is the best choice."
After a moment's silence, the strange light in her eyes had faded, replaced by a look of contemplation and a hint of confusion. It was as if she was, for the first time, truly understanding the weight of the human emotions in his words.
"I understand," she said finally, her voice low. "Then we will do as you say. Now let go of me, you presumptuous creature." He had been squeezing a little too hard; it had actually started to hurt. The nerve. I'll remember this, she thought.
He let go and gently stroked her now-reddened cheeks. But she swatted his hand away.
The night grew deep.
A small fire was lit in a clearing. The air was filled with the smell of burning wood, and the faint, but unmistakable, scent of something charred.
Serie sat cross-legged by the fire, her eyes fixed on the figure beside it.
Rhodes was clumsily turning a skewer over the flames. After so long, he had almost forgotten how.
She was reminded of a long time ago. It had just been the two of them, before all the others, before the fated battle, just the two of them. And now, they had returned to that beginning.
The thought made her happy, but she still pretended to be annoyed. "Hmph," she said, her nose wrinkling at the smell of burnt meat. "Are you burning it?" The poor pieces of Gray-Horned Rabbit were already black at the edges.
His hand paused, and an embarrassed look crossed his face. After he had gotten a pot, he had rarely made skewers, and now he had forgotten how. This wouldn't do. He had survived in this world for half a year on skewers alone. He couldn't be defeated by a small setback like this.
He focused all of his attention on the task at hand, an intensity he had only ever shown when unleashing Org's full power, and now he was applying it to a piece of meat on a stick. It was a little ridiculous.
And, of course, the meat just got more burnt.
"Ahem," he said with a teasing smile. "Sometimes, it's better with a little char."
Seeing the disbelieving look on her face, he added, "It's been thirty years. I'm a little out of practice. And besides, I don't have my secret spices. Even the greatest chef can't make a good meal without ingredients." He held out a skewer that looked slightly less burnt than the others. "This one looks okay. Want to try?"
She looked at the still-charred piece of meat with suspicion. She didn't believe a word he was saying. But seeing the hopeful look on his face, she decided to humor him.
She blew on it first, then took a small, careful bite from an unburnt edge. "Mmm..." she chewed thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing.
"It's tough. And it doesn't have much flavor," she said, her critique merciless. "Compared to your old cooking, this is terrible."
He laughed awkwardly and put the other skewers down, then poked at the fire with a stick. "Yes," he said, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "Back then... I never thought that a single, casually-grilled mushroom skewer would attract an elven miss."
(End of chapter)
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