Day 5 of visiting the Imperial Capital.
After continuous meetings, Flamme finally received good news: it was time to return.
Before the convoy of carriages at the city gate, the three elven seniors she saw indeed looked weary, their expressions as if carved from the same mold.
It was imaginable that they had gone through a barrage of arguments; after all, any plan required brainstorming with the King and ministers, coordinating the interests, demands, and conflicts of all parties—just thinking about it was mentally taxing.
It was over.
However long, the mobilization meeting had come to an end.
On the frontmost carriage of the convoy, Lehman waved and said: "We are further from the Magic City headquarters, so we must depart first. We'll see each other on the front lines later."
"Flamme, Master and the Vice President actually both need looking after, so pay close attention."
"Alright, I understand."
The two presidents rolled their eyes at the conversation, but didn't deny it.
After bidding farewell, the Association's mages left quickly. For a considerable period, they would be responsible for guarding the front lines. After all, the Demon race had many mages, and the battles were sure to be fierce.
They were also representing their organizations to achieve great deeds; their contributions would become their leverage, determining the final division of interests.
Half the war's gains depended on the recently concluded agreement; the other half would be realized on the battlefield.
Only four people remained.
Naturally, it was Frieren, Milliarde, Serie, and Flamme. The latter shook her head, seeing the three either exhausted or tipsy. How did they resemble renowned dignitaries? They had already burned out in various power plays.
"As you said, I didn't prepare a carriage. We'll have to fly all the way back. Can we manage now?"
"No problem, I'll apply a gravity mark to each of you so you can fly more easily."
They immediately cast Flight Magic and traveled at full speed.
Everyone simultaneously glanced back at the Imperial Capital. Many meetings were still ongoing, precisely tactical deployments that would determine the pace of the early stages of the war against the demon race.
From the mid-stage, the combined forces of both sides would determine the pace.
A great war was brewing.
At this juncture, going to the front lines might alleviate some unexplainable tension, but the process of returning home would likely leave her feeling tense all over.
Flamme, in particular, knew the dangers ahead, and that she would have to part with family, friends, and teachers.
Following the wind, she gazed north, where, on the other side of countless ice formations, the Demon King's Castle, a land of sleeping souls, stood firm against the blizzard. Unattained for thousands of years, it was now to be charged with a certain victory...
But Flamme was already prepared.
From the three seniors, she also sensed an atmosphere of resolute determination; each had made their own resolves. Everyone had responsibilities to bear, and unshakeable duties had fallen upon them, requiring them to carry the banner.
She felt honored to be a part of it, considering it all a prelude to an era of human magical prosperity.
At the same time, Flamme could also see some troops stationed in the Imperial Capital departing for the frontiers. The King had indeed invested heavily, with the most elite forces being deployed to the front lines.
Everyone was ready to personally wage a monumental war.
Either to be devoured, or to achieve victory.
Many would fall midway, unable to witness the final outcome, but all would become a part of that outcome.
...
Northern Continent, Demon race front lines, temporary command headquarters.
Schlacht, seated at the head, rubbed his forehead and finally made his decision: "Pass down the order for a full retreat. Abandon control of the border outposts. This wave of human allied forces is formidable; there's no need to directly confront their first charge."
"The immediate priority is to consolidate our lines; we need the cover of the deep Demon race territory."
Its order was unexpected.
"Your Excellency, the All-Knowing, why? We could easily wear them down here; it's just a routine counterattack."
"No, the Empire has reached an agreement with other nations and will dispatch elites, as well as Association mages."
At these words, all the Demon race were startled.
The Association alone wouldn't cause such fear, but the key was whose will it represented? In other words, had King George exchanged interests to win the full support of the two elven Age of Gods Mages?
That couldn't be right, could it?
Frieren might negotiate based on racial interests, and the Demon race could withstand the pressure from her alone.
Serie should be someone unconcerned with worldly affairs and beyond negotiation, so why was she completely involved? This news was enough to alarm even His Majesty the Demon King.
What changes had truly occurred?
"I must admit, it's under our pressure that the elves finally united, isn't that right?"
Beze the Undying, one of the Seven Sages of Destruction, said decisively.
"Indeed, in this meeting, Frieren actually persuaded Serie to think from the overall perspective of the elven race... No, perhaps the Founder of Magic had resolved her inner conflicts even before that. She became stronger during that sparring match at the Association headquarters."
"Moreover, Serie has targeted me. My observations are disturbed; she is preparing to kill me, and the next will be the Demon King."
"Even if she's called the Founder of Magic, that's too arrogant."
"No, according to their division, His Majesty will be killed by Frieren. She intends to acquire the power for an all-out battle during this slumber, to ensure a single strike kills His Majesty without leaving any lingering issues."
The Demon race didn't take it seriously. It was too brazen; were they to be divided as spoils of war?
Ridiculous.
To deploy like this before the war even began was utterly absurd. Could the elves, once lambs to the slaughter, really possess such ability?
Everyone acknowledged that the two Age of Gods Mages were extraordinarily powerful, and with high-tier combat support like Milliarde and Minus, they were formidable. However, the sheer number of strong individuals was still far inferior to the Demon race's accumulated wartime strength.
However, Schlacht's expression remained unchanged.
The Demon race, of course, wouldn't show any particular emotions, but the All-Knowing's attitude was very tense.
Beze asked in a low voice: "Schlacht, what did you see? But no matter what, I will guard the front lines here and cover the retreat."
"Alright, as you say. You will face Flamme."
Mentioning this renowned genius, Beze snorted. It was merely relying on being Frieren's only direct disciple. He would let her experience what the Demon race's top power truly was.
"And you?"
"I must return to the Demon King's Castle to report to His Majesty. The journey is long, full of variables, and I might die. Serie is also divining me; by her experience, I must die before His Majesty."
"No matter, the remaining Demon race strongholds are around you; protecting your retreat won't be difficult."
"...Anyway, we should depart now."
Schlacht stood up and left, silent. From beginning to end, it never spoke of the true possibilities of future convergence.
If the plan to assassinate the All-Knowing and the Demon King, thereby dismantling the Demon race's organizational structure, failed, Frieren would unleash her long-cultivated Scarlet Rot flowers to exterminate the Demon race.
Even if it meant committing the greatest atrocity, turning the north into scorched earth for eternity.
Either a decapitation strike.
Or an extermination.
No matter how the future was foreseen, it would converge before absolute power.
A verdant horizon gradually revealed an open expanse: continuous houses, curling smoke, and crisscrossing farmlands.
"How magnificent!"
Serie smiled, moved, from above. In her lifetime, she had witnessed countless wonders, some destroyed by humans, others by the passage of time, but none compared to this scene before her, which inexplicably touched her heart.
She hadn't felt this emotion in a thousand years; was it perhaps a homecoming?
To be honest, she had almost forgotten her departure from home all those years ago; her memories were already vague. From the Age of Gods until today, several elven settlements had developed.
Only this land beneath her feet had endured until now, so she subconsciously treated it as her homeland.
Where was her true home?
Immortal elves didn't need to return to their roots like fallen leaves; they seemingly didn't need to consider a dwelling place. Some of Serie's friends from the Age of Gods even intended to live in seclusion until the end of time. Yet at this moment, she felt moved, having just completed a long journey.
Frieren smiled silently, simply accompanying her as they looked down from high above at the rapidly changing town.
"I understand why you want to protect it now. You must cherish this town even more than I do."
"Yes, this is the place where I was born and raised."
"Good. If you ask me, earlier elven settlements built thatched huts and wore linen animal skins; they were completely savage. Even the Demon race knew to steal good-looking clothes. At that time, we hadn't escaped barbarism at all. This wasn't even the worst; the terrifying thing was that it would continue in the future."
"Even if elves died, they died in a barbaric civilization. How tragic."
Serie snorted, frustrated by their lack of ambition, then her eyes lit up as she changed the subject: "But this is different; it's greater than the Magic City."
"It is the city of the elves."
Thinking of this, all its numerous shortcomings took a backseat. This was the fruit of elven civilization, built brick by brick by their kin.
It was indeed a place that must be protected, a true home.
At this very moment, Serie finally understood that what surged in her heart was a sense of belonging. Until she reached Elf Town, she realized she had always been wandering; only today had she finally arrived home.
Just as the two were reflecting.
Flamme, with relatively the least magical power, had already landed, panting heavily; the long journey was exhausting.
Milliarde, carrying large and small bags of local specialties, landed second, slightly tired but overall full of spirit. After all, these past few years hadn't been in vain; she had been cultivating magic under Frieren's supervision, and in terms of total volume, she was among the world's best.
They arrived at the town gate and were welcomed with waves from the Water Mirror Demon and Minus.
The white-haired girl, identical to Frieren, caught Serie's attention. She was actually a completely tamed demon, a stronger technique than Berletania's.
"Let's first settle the demon technology data."
"Follow me."
The others over there had to hand over local specialties, so after a brief greeting, Frieren took Serie to the underground laboratory.
It not only contained numerous dangerous magic researches but also data.
After categorizing and properly storing them, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although demon technology was very unique,
for now, there was no energy to research it. It would serve as a technological reserve, and it wouldn't be too late to think about it later.
The two exchanged glances, then Frieren brewed a cup of red tea. This secret room was an excellent place for discussion,
with only them to make decisions.
Serie looked around curiously.
Even through layers of seals, she noticed the vibrant Aeonian flower, dangerous and beautiful.
"This thing is the move you used at Northern Fortress?"
"Yes."
"I also received some samples. It's a very potent curse magic, and it's well-suited for large-scale attacks,
with extraordinary effects on biological targets. You've been researching it; you're not planning to use it on the Demon race, are you?" Serie asked with interest.
"Indeed. If the decapitation strike doesn't go smoothly, I'll have to consider exterminating the Demon race. I'll launch this flower, these two flowers on my head, into the northern lands."
Frieren didn't believe anyone could survive three Scarlet Rot outbreaks.
Whether there were survivors or not was irrelevant.
Once Scarlet Rot was deployed, it wouldn't be limited to just Scarlet Rot. At that point, ancient god contamination, First Flame incineration, and similar methods would all be attempted.
The minimum standard was destruction to a degree that she couldn't repair in 500 years.
Frieren wasn't just making a decision; she was also making a statement for Schlacht the All-Knowing. She wanted the Demon King's supposed right-hand men to see her preparations. How would they respond?
Choose however you like.
No matter what they chose, her will would be carried out.
Serie immediately nodded in understanding. She was very satisfied with the silver-haired girl's determined expression.
"Many years ago, I met the Demon King; back then, it wasn't yet the Demon King. That fellow commanded magic of erosion and undead attributes, was also proficient in various other magics, and constantly fought and refined its magical power. It's a troublesome enemy."
"I can let you have the Demon King as a target, but you are not allowed to die."
She stated her demand directly.
After arriving at Elf Town, the Founder of Magic more deeply realized that the elven race was essentially being dragged into socialization by Frieren.
The terrifying aspect was that this dynamic was somewhat similar to the Demon King's position among the Demon race.
Perhaps long-lived races would still socialize and organize after long ages, but it was more likely that they would self-collapse before that, with birth rates declining to extinction or being exterminated by enemies.
Could they socialize? This was a worthy academic question.
But the Demon King and Frieren were unique enough to greatly accelerate this process, driving the transformation of many kin. For instance, elves now increasingly prioritized the collective.
She could not die.
No one else possessed the prestige, wisdom, strength, and will to tightly organize the entire elven race.
"You won't find a successor in a thousand years. You've really given yourself a tough job," Serie said, her words sarcastic but filled with admiration. "Elven society is also fragile; you are very important."
"I understand, so I won't give the Demon King a chance to retaliate. A single strike will decide the outcome, and also usher in peace for the elves."
"As long as you know what you're doing."
"Therefore, my slumber this time will be quite long. I'll trouble you to oversee the front lines. However, if anything happens, you can wake me up early; I have a contingency plan."
"I will eliminate Schlacht first to clear a path for you."
"He should have many guards. You must be careful; you'll face multiple Seven Sages of Destruction and great Demon race."
"I wasn't afraid of that trash before, let alone now that I've become stronger."
Serie was not exaggerating. Since their last sparring match, her magical power had grown even more profound, and more importantly, that broad, passionate spirit was enough to support increasingly sharp magic.
How could the soon-to-be-buried Demon race compare?
Frieren nodded and said: "I'll give you a tour these next few days, then I'll go into slumber. By then, you should also return to the Magic City to oversee the headquarters."
"Alright, that works. Speaking of which, should we move the headquarters here later?"
"No need. Don't let the Association have too much elven character; it actually helps our hidden influence."
"As you wish."
Serie's itinerary in Elf Town mostly consisted of wandering around.
She only stopped after Frieren led her on a thorough tour, inside and out, especially praising the training grounds and the barrier.
It was very substantial.
Although this junior wasn't skilled in barrier arts, she was full of ingenious ideas, having actually created automatic counter-attacks and even possessing some resistance to curses, truly something unheard of and seen for the first time.
On the other hand, there was Milliarde's strongly advocated underground vault, a super-structure resembling a honeycomb, with countless gold, silver, and jewels buried deep within.
She also didn't forget to have the Founder of Magic reinforce the barrier once more.
It wasn't that she didn't trust her childhood friend's techniques; it was mainly that one more defense was always better.
Frieren was both amused and exasperated by this.
Why did everyone think she wasn't good at barrier and sealing arts? It seemed to be true. At least she couldn't compare to geniuses like Serie and Flamme; her own stereotypes focused on relentless offense, which was more suited for legion warfare.
As for Serie, she had little interest in the remaining matters, as she herself came from the Magic City, a place renowned for its prosperity across the entire continent.
However, everyone had great interest in the Founder of Magic.
Rather than Serie touring the town, it was more like the elves revering an idol; wherever she went, a crowd gathered around, creating a lively scene.
Logically, her quiet and inactive nature should make her dislike this.
But it was the opposite.
Serie showed unexpected enthusiasm, not only giving out souvenirs but also sharing magic books. What she called "meeting gifts" were actually a grand distribution of precious materials, given away without a blink. She was clearly genuinely happy.
Despite her advanced age, she even played with the children, releasing fireworks magic with perfect synergy.
She seemed very happy, immersed in the atmosphere of the new elven society.
Serie was even curious enough to actively pull Frieren, asking her to introduce the development of various streets and areas. After all, this junior was born after the Founder of Magic gained fame, so she would surely know more about the settlement's changes.
"This used to be a well, but Milliarde thought it was too ugly, so she built a water tower. It turned out too tall, so it simply became an observation tower."
"The bank headquarters was actually built on the site of a former cowshed; now the pastures have all moved to the outskirts."
"The small open-air theater to the east was actually the first training ground I built; later, when it wasn't needed, it was converted..."
"That's just my small house. Want to come in for a rest?"
Serie agreed.
After walking back and forth through the town several times, she was also a bit tired and weary.
Although the buildings here were becoming increasingly grand and tall, Frieren's home still had a simple and modest feel. Being a bit smaller was fine; it was one of the very few quaint buildings with an elven style.
Unbeknownst to her, she had grown accustomed to the overly exaggerated architecture in The Lands Between, so a smaller home in reality was of no concern.
Milliarde and Minus also came along, having served as guides earlier.
"Master, I'm packed."
The last to arrive was Flamme, but the young girl was in a hurry, carrying large and small bags, poised to leave. Her face showed reluctance yet also determination.
"Since you are Frieren's apprentice, it's best to arrive early, and I need to go home."
"Hmm, be careful on your way. See you next time in the north."
The two exchanged a deep glance, understanding that this journey would be even longer than Flamme's previous one to the Magic City, especially facing the formidable obstacles of the Demon race army, making it extremely dangerous.
This time, they were parting ways to venture into dangerous places, all for the final battle.
The Demon race war had made them try to meet, and now it would lead to its conclusion. At this moment, Flamme and Frieren were both nervous and excited.
It was about to end.
"If you truly encounter danger, fully activate your Grace; my protection is within... though with your abilities, you probably won't need it. I have a hunch, Flamme, that in this battle, you will herald the arrival of your era."
"Serie's and my achievements can only announce the end of an era."
"In the future, when human magic enters a grand era of prosperity, your talent will still be needed to contribute. So take care; this is also my hope."
"You've long graduated; go forth and do it."
Flamme bowed deeply, her eyes moist. She bit her lip, nodded, and then quickly departed.
She was almost moved to tears.
If only her Master had been alone, she would have hugged Frieren, who was shorter than her, and cried her heart out to vent. But she decided against it; it wouldn't be too late to do so at the moment of victory.
After the red-haired girl flew away in a flash, the four older elves exchanged glances.
Serie asked with interest: "Did we interrupt your master and apprentice?"
"No matter. Flamme is very strong. All she needs is a trial on a grand battlefield; she will undergo a transformation and reach the ranks of the world's pinnacle."
The three nodded in approval.
There was absolutely no politeness intended; even the weakest present was at the level of a Seven Sages of Destruction, possessing keen insight and clearly understanding Flamme's potential. She was like a symbol of humanity's future, where talent would blossom, destined to produce countless heroes one after another.
Flamme's talent and character symbolized the beginning of an era, representing humanity's prosperity, enduring without end.
"I will go into slumber tonight. After that, a barrier will be activated here."
The hostess set a deadline.
They understood this was the elven race's final deployment meeting. Though seemingly small and comprised of only four individuals, they were enough to decide the situation.
Milliarde was the first to speak: "I'll be incredibly busy, needing to establish a minting factory in the town and help the Empire raise military funds. I won't even have time for drinks anymore."
"However, I will ensure the infiltration of elven influence. I'm a professional, so everyone can rest assured."
She was very satisfied with the agreement reached in the Imperial Capital.
Minus said: "I will be responsible for guarding and teaching. To be safe, training intensity needs to increase,
and I will try my best to cultivate more mages. For a long time, elves have dominated most of the top ranks, but their weakness is a lack of mid-to-high-tier combat power, which must be compensated."
The two of them handled more administrative roles.
In terms of martial prowess, Frieren and Serie were evenly matched in everyone's eyes, but in terms of reputation, the Founder of Magic clearly held more deterrent power; her presence on the battlefield would directly represent the projection of elven strength.
"According to the plan, I will kill Schlacht as quickly as possible."
"Your part is the most dangerous, but you'll probably also regain the feeling of the Age of Gods, won't you?"
"Indeed, you understand well."
As Frieren was also about to head to such a place, she slightly suppressed her eagerness to have a long talk with her companions, instead detailing tactics together. Interlocking, step by step, everything was aimed at establishing the elves' position in this war.
They didn't aspire to the Empire's century-long ambition for hegemony; what they cared about was an endless flow of resources. The game of long-lived races had just begun.
...It wasn't until late into the night that the lights from Frieren's small house dimmed.
The last slumber before defeating the Demon race was approaching.
____
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