Chapter 218: My Name is Frieren
The dark armor on his chest shattered on impact, and the torrent of raw, untamed energy slammed into him, shredding his flesh and his magical circuits. His massive body was sent flying, even further than before, and it left a long, deep scar in the earth.
She was pale, the exertion of the battle now taking its toll. To catch up to him, she had expended a great deal of her own mana. And then she had been forced to fight, with only a third of her own strength. And her last attack... it had taken almost all that she had left. But... she had to be sure. She had to know if he was really dead.
The dust cleared, and he slowly, agonizingly, got to his feet.
His armor was shattered, and a terrible, gaping wound was in his chest. His aura was now a flickering, unstable thing. She had dealt him a grievous blow.
"Human," he said, the disdain now gone from his eyes, replaced by a new, and grudging, respect, "you are strong. But not strong enough."
He no longer held back. A torrent of a black, demonic energy poured from him and formed a new, even thicker, layer of an armor around him. He was now a hulking, terrifying beast. And with a roar, a new and even more powerful attack, a wave of a pure and unadulterated destruction, now shot from his gaping maw, a wave that was aimed not just at her, but at the entire village behind her.
Her pupils constricted. She could protect herself, yes, but not the village.
Just then, a wall of vines erupted from the earth. Ela. She had dealt with the other demons and had returned, just in time. She placed her hands on the ground, and a new and even more powerful wave of a green and vibrant energy shot up from her, and the vines... they were now a massive, impenetrable shield.
The dark energy of the demon slammed against it, and a deafening roar filled the air. She was struggling, but the shield was holding. "Flamme!" she cried.
And she understood. It was her chance.
She took a deep breath and drew upon the last of her mana. This time, there were no elements, just a single, pure point of a white light, a light that held the power to pierce through all things.
Swoosh.
It was a silent and deadly thing, a thing that was so fast that he had no time to react. It struck him right in the chest, right in the center of the wound she had already inflicted.
Thump.
His own attack was cut short. He froze and looked down, and he saw it, a hole, a gaping, bowl-sized hole, in the center of his chest. The edges of it were a charred and smoking black, and everything inside, his flesh, his magical core... it had all been completely annihilated.
"No... impossible!" he said, and with a final, disbelieving look, he fell to his knees, and then to the ground. His own demonic aura now dissipated, and his body, from the feet up, began to turn to ash, until only his eyes, his red, hate-filled eyes, remained, and they, too, faded away.
The Demon General, Bazalt, was dead.
And with the last of her own strength now gone, she began to sway.
Ela caught her just in time. "Are you alright?" she asked, her own eyes now filled with a new and profound shock. The girl... she had really done it. She had killed a general of the Demon King's own army, a being whose power was second only to the Sages of Destruction.
"I'm fine," she said, and shook her head. "Just a little... tired. We should check on the villagers."
She nodded and helped her to a nearby tree.
The battle was over. The remaining demons, their leader now dead, had fled. But the village... a great many of its treehouses were now a smoking ruin, and the ground was littered with the bodies of the elves. The air was thick with the stench of blood. A deep and heavy sadness now fell over the survivors.
Her own gaze swept over the scene, and then it stopped. At the foot of a half-burnt tree, a small figure was curled up in a ball.
An elven girl, her long, white hair, as pure and as white as the first snow, was a tangled mess around her face. Her white dress was covered in dust and blood. But her eyes... they were not the eyes of a child who had just lost her home. There was no fear, no tears, no relief at having survived. Just a dull and empty... numbness.
She, too, saw the girl. She got to her feet and slowly, cautiously, approached. She didn't know why. A strange and new empathy, a feeling of a shared and terrible loss, now drew her to her.
She knelt. "Don't be afraid," she said softly. "It's all over now."
The girl did not respond.
She hesitated, then reached out and gently brushed the white hair from her face. It was a delicate and beautiful face, now smudged with dirt and grime. And her eyes, her green and empty eyes... they just stared, without a single flicker of an emotion.
Her own heart went out to her. That look... she knew it so well. The look of a soul that has been so deeply wounded that it has shut itself off from the world. The look of her own past self.
"What's your name?" she asked.
The girl's long, white lashes trembled slightly, and her gaze finally focused on her. She looked at her for a long, long time, as if in a daze. And then, in a quiet and emotionless voice, she said, "Frieren."
And at the sound of that name, a strange and new ripple passed through her own heart. She could feel it, the magical aura of the girl before her. She was a qualified mage, but she had been defeated, her own mana now almost completely gone.
And Frieren, her own gaze was now fixed on her. "Why," she said, her own voice a weak and strained sound, a sound of a pure and utter confusion, "why are you so strong?"
Before she had arrived, she, Frieren, had fought him. And she had been unable to stop him. He had toyed with her, had let her watch as he had destroyed her village, and then he had left her for dead. She had been in a state of a pure and utter despair. And then, this human had come.
She looked at her, at the one who had just killed the demon who had taken everything from her.
"Strong? No, Frieren," she said with a gentle shake of her head, a strange and new sadness in her own voice. "I am not yet strong enough."
Her words just confused her even more.
"Can... you see it?" she asked, a new and startling thought in her mind. Had this girl seen through her own, imperfect, magical concealment?
"Just a... a feeling," she whispered.
A feeling. The girl had a rare and incredible talent.
"Can you... stand?"
She shook her head. The simple movement seemed to have taken all of her strength. A new sheen of a cold sweat appeared on her brow. "I can't move."
And it was then that she saw it, a spreading, dark red stain on the girl's white dress.
"You're injured!?" she said, and gently lifted the hem of the dress. And there it was, a deep and terrible wound in her abdomen, a wound from which a fresh stream of a blood was now flowing. A dark and corrupting energy was at its edges, a poison that was now eating away at her very life force. All her earlier calmness... it had all been an act, a desperate attempt to hold on in the face of an excruciating pain and a complete and utter exhaustion.
"Tsk!" She cursed herself for her own carelessness. She had not even noticed.
She gathered the last of her own mana and began to cast a healing spell, a spell he had taught her, a gentle white light that now enveloped the wound.
And the wound... it began to close, and the dark energy began to recede, and the bleeding began to slow. But it was not enough. The corruption... it was too strong. She needed a real priest, a master of a holy magic.
She took off her own, relatively clean, outer robe and wrapped it around the girl. And then, she knelt and, with a great and terrible effort, she lifted the girl onto her own back.
"Let go of me," the girl whispered, a new and different kind of a pain now in her voice. An elf, with their own innate coldness and detachment... to be held so closely by a stranger, a human... it was an agony of a different kind. She tried to struggle, but she had no strength left.
"Don't move," she said, her own voice now a firm and unyielding sound. "You are gravely injured. You need a real healer. I'm taking you to one."
The girl was now limp on her back, her own cheek now resting against the nape of her neck. And the feeling... it was not so bad. The resistance in her own heart, it was beginning to fade. And a new and complex emotion... it was now beginning to bloom. She closed her eyes.
(End of chapter)
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