The reason wasn't anything special.
Serie had the power to end wars but chose not to, even avoiding confrontations with demons unless necessary.
Ash's prior research revealed that elves had a weak sense of racial identity. Serie preferred maintaining a state of war over world peace, only intervening in major catastrophes, and even then, she might not.
With this confidence, Ash risked coming here. Intrigued by his uniqueness, Serie casually took him as a disciple, and...
"Ash, since you're my apprentice and I've got a new disciple, hurry up and make a feast to celebrate!" Serie, eager to escape kitchen duties, waved her hand, ordering her new student around.
But Ash, engrossed in her rare book collection, looked up, locking eyes with her, showing no intention of moving.
This irked her. "Didn't you hear me?"
"No, I'm just wondering if you're serious, Serie."
"What do you mean? I teach you magic, and you won't even cook for me?"
"It's not that I won't. I can't. But if you want demon cuisine, I don't mind showing off."
"Demon cuisine?"
"We eat raw food, but can your stomach handle it? If you can, I'll prepare some."
Ash spoke earnestly about something even he wasn't sure of, standing to prepare raw pork sashimi.
Serie, imagining the taste of raw meat, grimaced. "Forget it. I'll handle it!"
"By the way, I'm different. I prefer cooked meat."
"Who asked you? Get out and eat your demon cuisine!"
"No way. I can eat grilled meat too."
"You're just too lazy to cook, aren't you? Tricking me?"
"Trust me, I'm thinking of your health."
Serie wanted to make Ash work, but even when she tried teaching him to cook, his food was awful.
Three years of attempts passed...
"Serie, add some spice. Trust me, this meat tastes better with chili!"
"No way, I don't do spicy." Serie stirred the pan, scolding without looking back. "And why am I teaching you, yet you're the one giving orders?"
"Don't say that. Master and disciple shouldn't fuss over details," Ash breezed past her annoyance. "Less salt. Your taste is too heavy."
"A mere demon, so picky."
"I'm worried about your age. Heavy flavors could cause high blood pressure."
"I've eaten like this for millennia with no issues! But in three years with you, my blood pressure's spiked!"
Why did teaching him improve her cooking skills, only to end up with her handling meals?
Though Ash's ideas were often good and kept boredom at bay, an odd emptiness frustrated her. She glared at him fiercely.
Familiar with his loli elf teacher's habits, Ash raised his hands, smiling, and backed away, avoiding her wrath to not get blasted out.
The freeloading days had limits. Despite elves' high tolerance and different sense of time, by the third year, Serie couldn't take it anymore, determined to make him cook.
She supervised, vowing to train him into a great chef to free herself from kitchen duties.
"Right, flip it like that. More seasoning! Hey, I saw that! No chili! If you sneak it in, I'll shove it all in your mouth!"
"You're so crude. But roasting a whole lamb without spice? Is that reasonable?"
"I'm the master. I say no, so no arguing."
Watching her disciple at the grill, Serie lightly kicked his backside, swatting away the chili powder he grabbed.
"Tch, old folks these days, so unreasonable," Ash muttered, snapping off a lamb leg to taste it without spice.
But pulling it off, it was too hot. He juggled it between hands to avoid burns, instinctively tossing it to Serie. "Quick, Serie! Hot, hot, hot! Take it!"
"Eek? Ugh, so hot!" Caught off guard, Serie grabbed it, her face twisting as she juggled it, tossing it back.
Refusing to waste it, Ash caught it, shoving it back. "No, don't give it to me! It's hot!"
"Hot? You think I'm not afraid of heat?"
After another round, Serie reacted, freezing the leg with ice and dropping it.
Handling the scorching lamb, Ash wiped sweat from his brow. "Phew, close call. My hands almost blistered."
"Yeah, you're fine, but..." Serie's face was speechless, her red, stinging hands hovering, glaring as if to strangle him. "My hands are about to blister!"
Serie's curse-like whisper made Ash glance at her red hands, then look away, pretending nothing happened, changing the topic. "So, can a frozen roasted lamb leg still taste good?"
"I haven't tried, so I don't know. But I know if you don't explain, you're in trouble." After millennia, Serie smiled, refusing to drop it, forcing Ash to surrender. "Fine, I just thought it was hot."
"You think I don't feel heat?"
"They say old folks have thick calluses, no pain."
"Oh, funny. I heard demons have thick skin, not afraid of a beating." Serie flashed her brightest smile yet. "Let's make today's lesson magic offense and defense. I attack, you dodge. How's that?"
"I refuse!"
"Give me a reason."
"You'll definitely hold a grudge!" Backing away, he pointed at Serie, trying to reason. "Think about it, Serie. Your dutiful disciple worked hard to cook. Shouldn't you be touched?"
"Dutiful? Haha! You dare say that? I'm touched, alright, so as a reward..." Dark flames flickered in Serie's hands, her grin menacing. "Take hellfire!"
Boom!
The makeshift barbecue stall outside the ruins was engulfed in flames instantly.
Ash fled in the chaos, but Serie, still furious, unleashed a barrage, leveling the surrounding forest.
Half a month later, after eating a reluctant Serie's cooking, Ash planned to visit an elf village she'd mentioned, curious about this era's elves.
"Serie, I'm heading out for a bit. No need to cook for me."
"Am I your mom? I wanted to kick you out long ago for freeloading!" Serie, on her throne, frowned, then brightened. "Don't come back!"
"Don't say that. A day as master, a lifetime as mother. In my heart, you're..." A fierce gust cut him off, blowing him out of the hall.
Lowering his weight with magic, he tumbled but stood unscathed, brushing off dust, grumbling. "I'm studying hard, and you kick me out? That's harsh."
Serie ignored him from the hall, leaving him rebuffed. He grabbed a bag of ancient magic books pilfered from her and left.
On the way to the elf village, before finding elves, he met someone vaguely familiar.
But in this era, five hundred years ago, he shouldn't know anyone, nor five hundred years later.
The person, a woman in her thirties with orange hair covering half her face, triggered recognition from his research. She was Flamme, the future founder of human magic.
"You..." Flamme stared, sensing something off. "Why are you staring?"
"Ah, sorry. You're Flamme, right? I've heard of you."
"Heard of me?" Low-profile Flamme frowned, wary, secretly preparing magic.
In this chaotic world, even great mages could fall to a dagger if careless.
"No misunderstanding. Serie mentioned you."
"Master?"
"Truth is, I'm your junior disciple."
"Junior disciple? Master took a new student?"
"Surprising?"
"Very." Flamme nodded without hesitation, eyeing him. "With Master's personality, she wouldn't take disciples easily. What did she see in you?"
"My sincerity and diligence?"
"Though it's odd for me to say, Master doesn't take students for sincerity or diligence."
"She's pretty rough too. Kicked me out when I left. Wish she'd respect her elders and juniors."
Flamme stayed silent, observing him.
He seemed normal outwardly, but his aura felt strange.
Most troubling was his aura, suggesting he'd killed many.
Was it because she'd never met someone with so many kills that his aura felt off? She couldn't be sure.
Wary, she said no more, bypassing him to verify with Serie later.
Watching Flamme disappear, Ash's smile faded, and he sighed in relief. "Serie's aura-hiding trick really works. If I'd met her first, I'd have been exposed."
Though they didn't fight, Flamme's aura marked her as the strongest human he'd met, despite her hiding it.
Since she avoided him, he didn't dwell, heading happily toward the elf village on Serie's map.
Not long after leaving the ruins, he realized Serie's map and village address might be a ploy to get rid of him, to stop his freeloading.
After a long trek, Ash found the legendary elf village via the map, but...
"The gap from my imagination is too big, isn't it?"
Deep in a remote primeval forest, the hidden elf village seemed forgotten by time.
It lay quietly in a vast, serene clearing, surrounded by dense, ancient trees. Sunlight filtered through thick canopies, casting dappled shadows, draping the land in a mystical, slightly desolate veil.
The elves' stone houses, scattered haphazardly, were plain, their interiors as unadorned as their exteriors, lacking rustic charm, just stark simplicity.
Moss and vines covered rooftops, time etching weathered marks, telling tales of wild growth.
Small, dilapidated windows and doors went unrepaired.
The elves' clothing was plain, almost refugee-like. If not for their cleanliness, they could pass for refugees, resembling ordinary medieval villagers.
Lethargic, they went about their tasks, with no visible children or elders, though Ash couldn't tell either way.
Serie's quirky loli elf personality had already shattered his view of elves.
Storybook elves were supposed to be beautiful, elegant beings, but reality...