"Ivan, thanks for standing guard, ha~"
It was still dark, probably around three or four in the morning. Flamme, awakened by an alarm magic, emerged from the tent and stretched her graceful body with sleepy eyes.
It had to be said, a certain reliable Magician older sister had a truly stunning figure, almost making Ivan lose his sleepiness.
But thinking about continuing their journey during the day, he quickly gathered the scattered sleepiness back and prepared to go into the tent for a nap.
"Wait, don't sleep yet!"
Flamme, who was still groggy from waking up too early, noticed a magic burst not far away. She instantly became alert and said to Ivan, "There's a fierce battle happening over there. Don't leave my sight now."
"Okay."
Thanks to his daily nocturnal schedule on Earth, even during this period which was theoretically the most tiring for humans, Ivan remained sufficiently awake, instantly entering "all-nighter" mode.
"Should I fly up to the sky to take a look first?"
"No." Flamme immediately rejected. "If the Magic race knows that humans have mastered flight magic, they will continuously send assassins to kill you. Just walk with me."
In less than ten minutes, Ivan followed Flamme to the scene.
"How tragic. Is this an Elf village?"
Flames soared into the sky, and dilapidated houses burned fiercely. Corpses were scattered everywhere on the ground, men, women, old, and young, all dead. Their pointed ears easily identified their identity—the Elf race.
Blood stained the earth, and the air was filled with a rusty, bloody smell. After advancing a bit further, in the center of a plaza resembling an altar, a silver-haired Elf race girl was kneeling on the ground, her eyes reflecting nothing but the flickering flames around her.
Not far away, a massive Magic race corpse lay on the ground, constantly turning into black magical embers and dissipating with the wind.
Against the backdrop of that enormous corpse, the Elf girl's body was so delicate, yet from her magic reaction, it seemed that this dream-like girl had killed that Magic race.
Flamme came before the Elf girl to check her injuries.
Ivan came before the Magic race corpse to check its remaining value.
"Bazarut of the Throne, one of the Demon King's Generals. It was he who led the Magic race to destroy the village, and then all of them were killed by you, right?"
The girl responded with silence.
"And you killed him in a direct confrontation, right? Seriously, why be so foolish? Why didn't you escape? Why didn't you ambush him? Why didn't you use underhanded methods? Ivan, what was that thing you said?"
"The Magic race are all inherently evil beasts. Against them, there's no need to talk about chivalry. Any scheme or trick is righteous."
Ivan casually added from the side. This so-called Magic race General was the first Magic race corpse he had seen that dissipated so slowly. The Magic race he usually encountered were basically blasted into nothing by Flamme's Explosion Magic.
So he pinched the corpse and asked, "Flamme, can the Magic race General be eaten?"
"No!" Flamme's face darkened. "Why would you ask such an absurd question??"
Ivan reasoned, "Because the Magic race are made of magic, right? Essentially, eating him is just eating a ball of magic. According to the principle of 'eating what you want to replenish,' my own magic power might increase by a large margin."
If the opponent were alive, Ivan certainly wouldn't have thought of pouncing on him and gnawing him raw, but he was already dead. Without the restraint of consciousness, the entire body was a huge, pure, unowned magic aggregate. How could it not make one's heart pound?
Such an absurd desire made the Elf girl nearby unable to help but scrutinize him a few more times.
"Put away your absurd ideas, Ivan. Magic cannot be converted through the digestive system."
Flamme's retort did not deter Ivan from the idea of eating the Magic race; instead, it gave him a flash of inspiration.
"So, all I need is an organ that can digest magic, right?"
Recording his wild ideas in a small notebook he carried, Ivan then took out a sealing scroll, preparing to stuff the Magic race General's corpse inside.
As a good youth raised under the red flag, wasting food was a grave sin.
While Ivan was busy, the conversation between Flamme and the Elf girl continued.
"Even with so many choices, you insisted on a head-on confrontation. I really don't understand how powerful Magicians think."
"...You should understand."
The silent Elf girl suddenly spoke, her emerald eyes, similar in color to Flamme's, calmly looking at the other party.
"Because you are an even more powerful Magician than I am."
Flamme raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh? Why do you say that?"
She was currently suppressing her magic, so most Magicians shouldn't be able to tell.
"Intuition," Frieren responded calmly.
"That truly is a terrifying talent. It would be terrible if the Magic race also had such intuition. What's your name?"
"Frieren."
"A very pleasant name. I am Flamme, and that guy over there giggle ing at the Magic race General's corpse is Ivan, my disciple."
Saying that, Flamme squatted down in front of her, "Come up, someone with such potential can't just be left alone. The subsequent demon pursuers are probably coming soon."
"Mm."
Frieren obediently climbed onto Flamme's back, her two snow-white, slender arms wrapped around her neck.
Flamme stood up, lightly bounced the girl's bottom, and felt Frieren's weight—small, light, just like a child.
"Hey, stop grinning at the corpse. It's time to run."
"First, I'm not 'hey'. Second, I wasn't grinning at the corpse, but genuinely smiling at a beautiful future. Third, 'running away' sounds too low-class. I think 'strategic relocation' is better."
Ivan, who had completely packed away the ingredients, patted his trouser legs and stood up, catching up to Flamme, who was carrying the girl, in a few steps.
On the way out of the village, Frieren looked at the scattered wreckage and corpses, slowly closing her eyes.
She mumbled in a low voice, "Everyone is dead... Even though I'm the strongest... I couldn't protect them..."
Elves have almost endless time, so their emotions become very faint. But when such a tragedy happened before her, Frieren still felt as if a piece of her heart had been bitten off, leaving it empty.
Flamme asked, "Were all the villagers already killed when you arrived?"
"Mm," Frieren replied expressionlessly.
"And then you fought Bazart head-on and killed him?"
"Mm."
"You're such an idiot. The Demon King's army doesn't act alone when destroying a village; there are definitely subsequent reinforcements. If we hadn't passed by, you would have only been waiting for death, exhausted of stamina and magic."
Flamme continued, "If I were you, I would have run away long ago. As long as you're alive, there will be plenty of opportunities to kill demons..."
She paused in her steps.
"Tsk, speak of demons, and demons arrive."