The morning of departure came sooner than Subaru expected. The sun had barely risen, painting the sky in shades of pale orange and soft pink, when she finished packing her belongings. The room she had stayed in felt empty now, stripped of her presence, waiting for the next guest who would never know about the demon who had slept in its bed.
She did not tell Übel about the incident on the terrace. The words would not come. How could she explain the look on Wirt's face when her turban fell, the shock in his eyes, the way his voice cracked when he said he could not hate her? Some things were too strange to share, even with someone who had seen her fight and kill and die.
Wirt had not told anyone either. Subaru did not know why. Gratitude, perhaps. Or confusion. Or something else that she could not name. Somehow, she had managed to convince him to keep her secret, and he had agreed. The hero of Vorig remained a hero, beloved by the people, untouched by scandal or suspicion. No one knew that beneath the turban, beneath the dress, beneath the smile she had worn for the crowds, there was a demon.
Somehow, that made her feel worse.
At the gates, in the early morning light, Subaru and Übel stood with their bags and their staff and their strange collection of weapons that existed only when needed. The road ahead stretched out before them, empty and gray, disappearing into the hills where the trees grew thick and the shadows gathered.
Only a few people had come to see them off. Wirt stood at the front, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Behind him, a handful of soldiers shifted their weight from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable in their formal clothes. Mut stood apart from the others, his small hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on Subaru.
The boy walked forward, his steps hesitant, his lower lip trembling. He stopped in front of her and looked up at her face, at the turban that hid her horns, at the smile that she had practiced so many times.
"Will I ever see you again?" he asked. "Will we meet again?"
Subaru crouched down so that her eyes were level with his. She placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling the small bones beneath his coat, the warmth of his skin.
"It is a promise, okay?" she said. "We will definitely meet again."
She had no plans on coming back here. Absolutely none. Wirt knew she was not human, and he probably hated her for it, even if he had said otherwise. The best thing to do was to leave, to put distance between herself and this city, to disappear into the north where no one knew her name.
The lie felt bad. It sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold. But she had told worse lies. She had told lies that meant the difference between life and death. This one, at least, would only break a child's heart.
Mut nodded. He sniffled, once, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Okay," he said. "Promise."
Subaru stood up and turned away.
Übel was already walking, her staff over her shoulder, her green hair bright against the gray of the morning. Subaru hurried to catch up, her boots scuffing against the stones of the gate.
Behind them, the soldiers called out goodbyes. Someone shouted something about drinks and celebrations and visiting again soon. Subaru waved without looking back.
Then Wirt's voice cut through the noise.
"Miss Subaru."
She stopped. Her hand froze in the air. Slowly, she turned around.
Wirt stood at the gate, his arms at his sides, his face soft in the morning light. He looked older than he had yesterday, or maybe younger, or maybe just different in a way she could not name.
"When you find the answer," he said, "and need to catch a break, remember that you have a friend here in Vorig. Whose gates are always wide open for you. And please reconsider my words, I mean them."
Subaru's eyes widened. Her heart, which had been heavy and cold, seemed to lighten just a fraction. A friend. He had called himself a friend. Not a commander, not a noble, not a man whose heart she had broken on a moonlit terrace.
A friend.
She grinned. The expression came easily, naturally, without the effort she usually needed to produce it. She raised her hand and gave a thumbs up, the gesture bright and confident and completely ridiculous.
"See you later!" she said.
She turned and walked away. This time, she did not look back.
The road curved around a hill, and the city disappeared behind them. The trees grew taller, the shadows deeper, and the morning light filtered through the leaves in patches of gold and green. Subaru walked in silence for a while, her thoughts churning, her heart still light from Wirt's words.
Übel broke the silence. Her voice was casual, curious, the voice of someone who had been waiting for the right moment to ask a question.
"Did you make Wirt fall for you as part of a greater plan?"
Subaru nearly tripped over her own feet. She stumbled, caught herself, and shot Übel a look of pure disbelief.
"It just happened," she said. "He is a man. When he sees a waifu, he just... falls. That is the reality."
Übel tilted her head. Her expression was blank, but her eyes glittered with amusement. "Pfft. What is a waifu?"
Subaru waved her hand. "It is... you know what, forget it."
"Am I a waifu?"
"No."
Übel's eyebrows rose. "What?"
"Absolutely not."
Übel pouted. The expression looked strange on her face, almost wrong, like a cat trying to bark. She walked in silence for a few steps, her lower lip pushed out, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Subaru felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She pushed it down. Now was not the time for smiling. They had a long journey ahead, and the north was full of dangers she could not imagine. But the smile refused to disappear entirely. It lingered, small and stubborn, a reminder that not everything in this world was pain and death and lies.
The road continued. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sun rose higher, burning off the mist that had settled in the valleys.
Subaru walked. Übel walked beside her. And behind them, far behind, the city of Vorig faded into the distance, its walls and towers and gates becoming nothing more than a memory.
Their next destination was the Kalae Region. Subaru did not know what waited for her there. Answers, perhaps. Or more questions. Or nothing at all.
But she would find out. One step at a time. One day at a time. One loop at a time, if it came to that.
She adjusted her turban and kept walking.
───✧───
Frieren and Sein finally reached the gates of Vorig City. The walls rose high above them, gray and weathered, marked by centuries of battle and repair. Banners hung from the battlements, red and gold, snapping in the wind. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and the air was thick and heavy, pressing against their skin like a wet blanket.
Sein was breathing hard. Not due to health issues. He was healthy, fit, capable of walking for days without rest. But the heat was something else entirely. It clung to him, wrapped around his lungs, made every breath feel like drinking hot water. Sweat ran down his face and soaked through his collar. His hair, usually neat, stuck to his forehead in damp strands.
"I fucking hate traveling," he said.
Frieren walked beside him, calm and composed, as if the heat did not affect her at all. Her silver hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her staff tapped against the ground with each step. She did not look at him when she spoke.
"You are a priest. Stop cursing."
Sein shot her a look. "Shut up, elf."
She did not respond. Her expression remained neutral, her eyes fixed on the gate ahead.
It had taken nearly five days for Frieren to get over the fever. The illness had lingered, stubborn and persistent, refusing to break despite Sein's best efforts. They had stayed in a small city in the Rat Region for a week, waiting for her strength to return, watching the days slip away like water through fingers.
Frieren did not waste another day. The moment she could stand without dizziness, she packed her bag and headed for the door. Sein had argued, suggested waiting just a little longer, but she would not listen. The fever was gone. The road was waiting. There was no time to lose.
Now they stood at the gates of Vorig, and Sein still did not fully understand why.
The reason Frieren was heading north seemed odd to him. Linie could technically go in any direction. North, south, east, west. There was no way to know which path she had taken, no trail to follow, no witnesses to question. It felt like chasing a ghost through a fog.
But Frieren had a hypothesis. Demons, she said, tend to go to cold places more than hot places. The heat bothered them, made them sluggish, weakened their abilities. The cold, on the other hand, suited their bodies and their magic.
Sein had stared at her when she explained this. It made no sense. Demons were not animals migrating with the seasons. They were intelligent, strategic, capable of enduring discomfort for the sake of survival. But Frieren spoke with such certainty that he did not bother to argue.
She also explained why heading toward the City of El Dorado would be logical for Linie.
"El Dorado?" Sein had asked. The name was unfamiliar, strange, the kind of word that belonged in old stories rather than real conversations.
Frieren had stared at him as if he was the stupidest being in existence. Her eyes were flat, her lips pressed together, her expression the kind of blank that somehow conveyed deep disappointment. She did not explain what El Dorado was. She simply continued walking, leaving Sein to follow in confused silence.
Later, she offered more context. She had initially assumed Linie was a lesser demon working for a greater demon. Aura the Guillotine. That was the name she had spoken, the name of a demon she had killed. One of Aura's subordinates had died as well, and Fern had killed another. Lügner. That was the name.
Linie remained. The only one who had escaped. The only one who had somehow cursed Stark with a divine power.
Sein still did not understand how a demon could wield divine magic. The two things should have been opposites, incompatible, like fire and water. But the wounds on Stark's body did not lie. The mana embedded in his flesh was not ordinary. It was something else, something that should not exist.
Since Linie did not have a master, Frieren explained, she would need to seek shelter from another greater demon. It was not compulsory that the demon of El Dorado was the one she went to. There were other greater demons in the world, scattered across the continent, hiding in shadows and ruins. But Frieren only knew about him, so she was taking her chances.
Sein asked what the story of this El Dorado was.
Frieren did not reply. She walked in silence, her staff tapping against the ground, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
Sein tried again. It was obvious that Linie was not a lesser demon. The power she had shown, the curse she had inflicted, the way she had fought and wounded Stark, none of that suggested weakness. Did that make her a high demon? Like Lügner? Another of Aura's subordinates?
Frieren did not reply. She kept walking, her pace steady, her expression unreadable.
The gates of Vorig loomed before them. A guard stood at the entrance, armored and armed, his face shaded by a helmet that left only his eyes visible. He held up his hand as they approached.
"Halt," he said. "State your names and business."
Frieren stopped. "Travelers heading north. We want to rest for some time in the city."
The guard studied them. His eyes moved from Frieren's staff to Sein's robes to the bags on their backs. "Do you have any documents? Travel permits?"
Sein reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers Kraft had given him. The parchment was folded and creased, worn from handling, but the seal was still visible. A travel permit. A pass. Something that would let them through gates that might otherwise be closed.
The guard examined the papers, turning them over, holding them up to the light. Then he nodded and stepped aside.
"You may enter," he said.