North Shore of the Lake.
The former edge of Berletania's main city now formed the lake's boundary, without even a gradual slope; stepping into the water was like falling into a sheer cliff.
"Magic can actually change terrain to this extent," Barke muttered, still shaken.
This could have been used as a bargaining chip long ago, but it was estimated that the two Presidents would never take it seriously. Only beings of their caliber could threaten them; anything else was insignificant. In an era where goddesses had faded, they were gods walking among mortals.
"Great Sorceress Flamme, the two esteemed ladies have been gone without a trace. Have you sensed anything?"
"Everything is fine." The red-haired girl, treating the injured, replied dryly, unwilling to elaborate.
The Empire's previous coercion and temptation had offended this genius, who responded with a child's temperament. If not for this oddity, one might truly think she was already a mature adult, but with her abilities, she could retain her nature her entire life.
For example, Serie never accommodated anyone.
Though his perception was not as keen, the meticulous Barke vaguely guessed what Serie and Frieren were up to. Who, after defeating the Ancient Beast, would be too excited to leave? They were probably searching for treasures.
He saw through it but didn't speak of it, pretending ignorance. The Empire had prepared for this when inviting the Association to intervene, not even planning to actively contend for spoils. Later, they would simply seek to win them over.
He felt His Majesty's attitude was very clear: prioritizing the war against the demon race. More specifically, defeating the Demon King, the leader, to ensure the demon race couldn't maintain organization; then they would be nothing more than a group of intelligent monsters.
Therefore, Barke needed to get along as well as possible with the two esteemed ladies of the Association...
Splash!
Suddenly, the lake automatically parted, forming a staircase of water, and Frieren and Serie, completely unharmed, walked up side by side. Their undisguised expressions of satisfaction clearly indicated a fruitful harvest.
"President, Vice President, it's great that you're safe!"
"We were so worried here. The commotion just now was too great, it actually turned the basin into a lake."
"The Ancient Beast is eliminated, the demon disaster is gone!"
Everyone cheered, surrounding the two great heroes and celebrating. Both the Empire and the Association were relieved. To escape unharmed from a disaster of the demon source's magnitude was a miracle, entirely thanks to riding on their coattails; their coattails were too reliable.
They couldn't imagine what would happen if the demon disaster spread? The first to be sacrificed would be those present, and then it would spread to the Empire, their homeland.
Fortunately, it was eliminated in its nascent stage.
In a sense, they had witnessed a mythical-level battle. After all, who else in the world was worthy of both Presidents taking action together?
Boom!
However, a colossal roar echoed from the distant mountains, and landslides and dike breaches continued, submerging even more of the kingdom in high-mountain meltwater.
Barke suggested, "I should return to report, and I invite all of you to His Majesty George's banquet. Please, everyone, be sure to attend. The message has already been sent back, and I guarantee that your achievements will be sung throughout the Empire."
His attitude was very clear, without any pretense: the Empire greatly needed the support of the elves.
"Alright, let's go." Serie was actually always indifferent, even somewhat repulsed by such occasions, but for Frieren's sake, joining the fun might yield some benefits.
So the group journeyed tirelessly towards the Imperial Capital.
The team did not specifically speed up, but took a leisurely pace on their return trip as if recuperating. At this time, the news also spread rapidly.
The Empire generously announced what had happened in Berletania, of course, not forgetting to highly praise the results of their cooperation with the Association, having discovered and subjugated the demons' traces early.
The result was the fall of the Ancient Beast, and the magical nation was submerged by water.
No matter how one heard it, it was incredible, but thinking that it was a joint effort by Frieren and Serie, it became understandable, though regrettable. They hadn't seen three god-tier combat powers clash, and the destruction wrought was indeed extraordinary.
An entire city-state completely submerged in water; that level of terrain change might not happen in tens of thousands of years, yet it was completed in a single day.
Such was the changing of seas into mulberry fields.
At the same time, the Empire announced it would hold a "mobilization meeting" to call for a total offensive against the demon race.
This timing naturally led to deep contemplation.
With the pressure of the demon disaster lifted, the continent's strongest nation decided to concentrate its efforts, confident that the two Mages of the Mythical Era would stand by their side, so they first rallied to build prestige.
As invitations broadcasted in all directions, countless envoys headed towards the Empire, brewing a grand mobilization...
Elf Town.
Milliarde looked at the royal postmarked letter on the table, lost in thought.
"They even invited me? I'm just a businesswoman."
Minus, across from her, smirked: "Boss, don't be modest. Your influence on the nobility is crucial. And if my guess is correct, the King is also convinced of one thing: your presence is key."
"Why do you say that?" The alcoholic elf revealed a smug expression, asking despite already knowing.
"Serie, who isn't interested in politics, was dragged along by Frieren. She's the one who makes the most decisions, but due to her slumber, she doesn't know much about the details of execution and certainly has concerns about implementation. In short, she cannot possibly disregard your opinion."
"The Empire clearly understands: with Frieren present, anything concerning the elves can be discussed. But only with Milliarde also present will she agree to an immediate deal." Minus succinctly revealed the Empire's considerations.
She had traveled widely and gained much insight, discerning the other party's intentions from external information alone.
The elven race's power was substantial but their organization small, making them an ideal negotiation partner, avoiding many unnecessary disputes.
Good.
King George must have valued this efficiency to extend the invitation, even displaying a sense of security towards his guests. If he truly harbored ill intent, he wouldn't gather two Mages of the Mythical Era and one Seven Sages of Destruction-level elf.
Only someone tired of living would provoke such a lineup.
"Absolutely correct. So His Majesty is probably hoping to reach a valuable agreement, and if I don't bring something substantial, I wouldn't be doing justice to the continent's strongest nation."
"Boss has a draft in mind?"
"The demon race's way of establishing itself in the world is too crude and foolish. Schlucht, the All-Knowing, may be omniscient, but not necessarily wise, and even if wise, must yield to power. Frieren's power, my mind—we can make the elven race stand in the world more gently and wisely."
Milliarde carefully put away the letter, saying solemnly: "We will bring a millennium of prosperity to the elven race; there will no longer be anyone who dares to speak of extermination."
"They won't even dare to harbor thoughts of enmity."
Minus asked curiously, "How?"
"The demon race fears power, and humans fear authority. So elves need both power and authority."
Imperial Capital.
As Barke led the group through the city gate, they heard cheers from both sides of the road, petals fluttering, and cheerful music playing.
The focus of the cheers was naturally Frieren and Serie; their distinct appearances made them unmistakable. Moreover, sculptures and portraits of them had long circulated, making them renowned figures with prestige everywhere, just like the construction of the Association's branches spread far and wide.
Furthermore, their triumph over the demons was recent, and their renown was soaring.
Their incursions on the border were now a thing of the past, thanks to the two Presidents' intervention. Everyone was naturally curious about figures from the Age of Gods.
"Thank you, praise the Association."
The overly enthusiastic display forced Barke to lead the group along a side road.
At this moment, Serie's face showed disgust, her eyes sharp, as if she was about to huff. Her disciples managed to calm her down. In contrast, Frieren and her apprentice were composed, used to such sights.
The Founder of Magic had lived in seclusion for too long and didn't realize her current fame in the Empire was so high.
Under the obstruction of the Imperial Guards, the enthusiastic crowd finally thinned, but they were replaced by greetings from the rich and powerful.
"Excuse me, everyone, I must first see His Majesty." Barke waved goodbye.
The two protagonists exchanged glances.
Fortunately, their disciples, Urame, Lehman, and others, had already helped with the pleasantries. With their experience in social settings, handling this level of interaction was no problem, and the two masters were happy to take a break.
Although the journey had been slow, they hadn't rested for long, so they were still a bit tired.
Suddenly, a familiar figure greeted Frieren:
"The Empire's wine is really good, I have new brewing inspiration. By the way, I brought you all some local specialties."
"Serie, this is Milliarde, my childhood friend."
"It's an honor to meet you, I've long heard of the Continental Bank's prowess."
"Hello."
Even though it was their first meeting, they appreciated each other. Both were highly renowned figures, having heard much about each other's deeds, and with Frieren as the intermediary, they already understood each other well.
For Serie, it was an appreciation for a powerful elven mage, and the other party was certainly more than met the eye, possessing a similar hidden depth to Frieren. Milliarde, on the other hand, was contemplating business, confident they could achieve further cooperation with the Association.
"I'm relieved you're here. Otherwise, there are some things I don't understand, and it would be inconvenient for me to make arbitrary decisions."
"Do you also think the King will propose major policies?"
"Yes," the silver-haired girl said, looking towards the depths of the royal palace. "The heart beating on the throne in the Imperial Chambers is growing increasingly eager; he harbors ambitions for dominance and will be willing to make exchanges of interest with us."
"The four mages around him are too weak, a bunch of good-for-nothings. Cooperating with us is safer."
"Huh?" Milliarde scanned the area, seeing only layers of shielding barriers. Not to mention detecting the situation, even using magic was impeded—truly the Imperial center. However, before Mages of the Mythical Era, it was like being naked; they understood everything at a glance.
Oh well, their perception abilities were not worth being shocked about. The three exchanged glances, thinking alike. Even Serie, who cared little for politics, with her thousands of years of wisdom, knew the trivial matters that kings and ministers concerned themselves with.
They temporarily dropped the topic and stepped onto the stairs together, entering the banquet hall.
Dishes were abundant, a feast for the eyes and palate.
Setting aside the scheming thoughts, the immediate priority was to reward their road-weary stomachs with delicious food.
Flamme, Urame, and others shared the same thought, chatting as they ate. Everyone was indeed tired from traveling all the way from Berletania to the Imperial Capital and ate their fill.
A moment later, Barke hurried over from the direction of the chambers, whispering, "His Majesty requests your presence; he hopes to consult the wisdom of the three elven seniors."
Upon hearing this, the invited guests immediately put down their plates, and eye contact was made in an instant.
Finally, it had come. This banquet was actually a venue for small, private meetings. Who would discuss matters in public? Ultimately, one would only hear the declarations after private negotiations. True decisions happened behind the scenes.
The three followed without hesitation.
Everyone in the banquet hall was shrewd, and they immediately began to whisper at this sight: "His Majesty must have decided to fully utilize the power of the elves."
"For them, there's no immediate need to eliminate the demon race, but the Empire needs to establish leadership, and that esteemed individual needs to make a name for himself in history."
"Whoever needs it more is at a disadvantage."
"That's not necessarily true. That group of elves doesn't seem adept at negotiating in this area. Everything still depends on the on-site transaction."
The powerful and wealthy had their own opinions, but they all agreed on the elves' pivotal position, even as one of the themes of this mobilization meeting. Many envoys also awaited them to reach an inspiring agreement.
After all, without the full support of the Association, the war against the demons would lose a fraction of its chances of victory.
A historic moment was about to occur. But the transactions that truly shaped history would not be recorded; only memories would persist, and the three elves, with their nearly eternal lifespans, were about to leave behind a new epic.
Chambers.
Seated on the throne was a masculine middle-aged monarch, crowned and dressed in solemn attire. A pair of sharp eyes seemed to penetrate hearts; years of experience in high positions had imbued him with a steady temperament. This was the ruler of the Empire.
The three elves below slightly bowed in greeting, a striking contrast to Barke, who knelt with his head lowered beside them.
Serie, being the oldest, was fed up with formalities. Frieren felt that the people of the Lands Between would not agree to their King bowing deeply to another King. Milliarde was the most confident: 'What's your background? Is your backer as big as mine?'
"You..." The mage guarding the throne beside him had barely opened his mouth when he seemed to be choked by an invisible force, his neck recoiling as he instantly dared not move. The other party hadn't even shifted their gaze; just a wisp of aura made him feel weak.
They immediately fell silent. There was no need to assert themselves; this conversation was an exchange of power and authority; everything else was fleeting.
King George proactively stood up and said, "Everyone, let us move to the garden for discussion."
The guests followed obligingly. As a ruler, sitting was also for show. If the throne could not bring authority and a sense of security, what was its purpose? Small tricks were meaningless to the elven powerhouses; it was better to speak openly and save time.
In the pavilion, on one side were the King and Barke, and on the other were Frieren, Serie, and Milliarde. The surrounding staff, apart from serving tea and snacks, dared not breathe loudly.
After a moment's contemplation, George spoke: "I don't expect the elven forces to participate too actively. Rather, it might be better to leave the fruits of defeating the demon race to the Empire. Our soldiers are not cowards; they can endure losses. We are prepared, but there is one exception—The Demon King will be eliminated by you."
____
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