The squad continued forward.
Frieren only found an [Erdtree's Favor Talisman] and nothing particularly noteworthy to collect.
From the outskirts of Volcano Manor to here, it was a bit rundown. After all, the Mt. Gelmir region was already barren and harsh, and under Rykard's repeated torment, it was no wonder it hadn't fallen into complete ruin. Putting herself in their shoes, she thought that even after the Lands Between stabilized, developing such a place would be difficult.
She pondered as she delved deeper, encountering not even a decent miniboss.
This actually gave Frieren the opportunity to search thoroughly.
In a room guarded by a snake monster, the torture device was emitting a glow, and the always-active treasure map reacted, with numerous messages present.
Could it be something good? The silver-haired girl hurried over in two strides instead of three to inspect it:
[Albinauric Staff]
[A short staff embedded with blue glintstone at the tip, the glintstone staff of the ancient Albinaurics.]
[The Albinaurics have a secret:]
[They cast magic through sensation.]
Frieren immediately tested the feel of it, but it was utterly ordinary, nothing special. It was inferior to the dual-catalyst versatility of the Carian Glintstone Staff or the enhancements of Lusat's Glintstone Staff; using it would actually hold her back.
Its greater significance was probably proving that investing points in sensation could also release magic, revealing the Albinaurics' secret.
Clearly, Volcano Manor didn't care for them either and had once dissected them for research.
After stowing the Albinauric Staff, Frieren turned to examine an accessory: a round, large hood that looked smooth and comfortable, embedded with two large black eyes. Simple yet cute, it had a comical appeal.
Should she try it on?
Melina and Ranni were on guard at the door when Frieren suddenly turned around wearing the hood.
The appearance of an Albinauric was revealed, and the divine touch was the slight curve at the corner of her mouth—neither happy nor sad, yet irresistibly cute, impossible to hold back laughter.
Even with their composure, they couldn't help but laugh.
The hood seemed to have a natural magic that made people laugh; it was hard to keep a straight face when seen wearing it, especially with Frieren, who was always up to mischief, amplifying the effect.
"Be serious; we're in enemy territory."
Only after Melina spoke did she finally remove the Albinauric Mask. Glancing at the messages, they were full of praise:
[The most unhinged hood.]
[The Albinaurics' inability to keep composure comes half from this damn hood.]
[Put it on and enter a cutscene—you steal the show.]
[Finally found it here; thanks for the reminder. Time to farm Albinaurics at the blood bank again.]
[Equipped on the spot; it's welded to my head now.]
Facts proved that to be remembered, one needed either overwhelming strength or mischief. The Albinauric Staff, right at hand, went ignored by everyone; for sorcerer Tarnished builds, there were plenty of choices.
Collection increased by one.
Frieren didn't mind; more staves were always good. They pressed on.
The squad easily passed through the elevator mechanism to higher ground.
For Volcano Manor built into the mountainside, the higher up, the more core the area, critically important. The auras of the two blasphemous monsters emanated from there. Though not yet discovered, a fierce battle was surely imminent.
The spacious Volcano Manor gave them room to maneuver, but as they delved deeper, she issued a warning:
"Godskin Apostle ahead."
The moment Frieren spoke, Ranni struck first, unleashing a barrage of glintstone magic at the obese form of the Godskin Apostle, who hadn't even reacted yet.
He was predictably hit fully, his body briefly stunned.
As he prepared to counter, Frieren scattered a cloud of Night Mist, the sharp ice crystals within lacerating him all over.
Trouble.
The Godskin Apostle, guarding here for years on battle instinct, rolled desperately, barely dodging the glintstone barrage. The noise was minimal, likely controlled; the intruders were sneaking in.
Realizing this, he moved to sound the alarm, but it was too late.
A black knife pierced from behind.
The aura of Destined Death instantly coursed through his body. Even with his divine flesh surviving the instant kill, his fate was sealed, as a silver-haired girl with emerald sleep holes emerged from the Night Mist, her long pointed ears a telltale sign.
You three-and-a-half demigods ganging up—is that necessary?
The next moment, the Godskin Apostle fell to Frieren's Dark Moon Greatsword, slain in one strike. Her attributes now rivaled a powerful demigod.
Under their combined effort, it was nearly an instant kill—a one-sided crushing assassination.
Whew!
In an instant, the massive Godskin Apostle dissolved into runes and vanished. The three finally relaxed; alerting reinforcements before pinpointing Rykard's location would have been troublesome.
Frieren routinely looted the spoils: first, the Godskin Apostle's signature gray-black shockwave:
[Noble Presence]
[The ancient power displayed by the Godskin Noble. Greatly expands the abdomen, forming a shockwave that repels surrounding foes.]
[Can be powered up by charging to repel enemies.]
[In the past, it represented the wrath of gods.]
[Later, it became one of the symbols of glory for nobles hunting gods.]
The power was decent, but the release pose was something Frieren couldn't compliment. Was there no more elegant way? It suited the Godskin Apostle's build; she'd pass.
Similar shockwave incantations abounded, and simply releasing mana could achieve it.
The other weapon caught her eye: light, flexible, suiting her style.
[Godskin Peeler]
[An elegant rapier with a celadon-green blade.]
[The weapon of the Godskin Nobles. Their swordsmanship surpasses the common man.]
[In terms of weapon size, the speed of consecutive strikes is imperceptible to the naked eye.]
Frieren had witnessed their swordsmanship multiple times; unleashed from this blade, it posed a real threat. If not for striking first together, it might have caused a commotion.
But she cared more about the player praise:
[God-tier for shield-poke builds.]
[Rapier or spear can shield-poke, but rapier feels best, especially this one.]
[Shield plus Peeler—gods slain, Buddhas felled.]
[Classic wheelchair anti-pressure; withstands even the Promised King's barrage.]
[My build is complete.]
[Available late-game, but can rush to Volcano early. Best shield needs Fingerprint Stone Shield—honest platforming required.]
[Unprecedented safety; Volcano produces wheelchairs galore.]
Frieren rarely used shields, and with staves, shield-poking wasn't feasible, but for build diversity, she stowed it.
Volcano trip's gains were substantial so far.
Seemingly barren, but careful digging revealed Rykard's buried treasures.
Next, she eyed the church altar: a translucent object lay quietly.
What was this?
Frieren sensed lingering life aura, faintly akin to Rya's?
She carefully picked it up: a snake's amniotic sac.
Ranni beside her examined it seriously: "This must be material left for Rya's birth ritual—very special. Not easily successful; Tanith must have paid dearly."
"What kind of person is she to you?"
"Rykard-brother loves her, and she loves him, sparing no effort to create offspring. At least a qualified lover."
"Lover?"
"A true wife advances together, aiding her husband at key moments. Tanith bears some blame for Rykard being devoured by the serpent; she spoiled him too much. Or the status gap prevented admonition... Regardless, a successful romance, but failed marriage."
Ranni's words held regret, pity, and reproach.
As family, she had standing to care, unable to let go inwardly.
Frieren remained noncommittal.
Not that the Princess of the Moon clung to class notions, but in the Lands Between, marriage required power and duty.
Tanith failed those obligations—pity.
This revealed her marital views: unsparingly strict urging Frieren on governance; frontline fighter against foes, recently victorious with her king against unprecedented God-King.
Melina nodded: "A king's wife considers much, responsible to all around."
For instance, she wouldn't vie with Ranni.
No matter her love for Frieren, for God-King order, only Her Majesty and the divine suited.
The two partners exchanged glances, confirming tacit understanding.
Frieren focused on spoils; little left in the small church, but perception caught a familiar presence. She hurried toward it.
After some travel.
As expected, a Warrior Jar stood arms-crossed in the magma pool, roaring "Worrah!" as if training.
Nearby, a great earth dragon eyed it predatorily, but per routine, Ranni and Melina swiftly slew it. Under this tactic, common foes had no chance to cry out.
"Alexander, you here of all places."
"Your Majesty, long time since Caelid. Burning the flesh makes one stronger—yes, I'm training."
"Your body is robust, befitting hero-flesh forged."
"Perfect timing; made this traveling—please accept. Suits Your Majesty."
Alexander offered a gift:
[Jar Cover]
Ordinary, but Frieren's glance at player messages revealed another classic cosmetic, hugely popular for mischief, essential odd headgear. So Volcano specialized in weird headpieces?
Frieren accepted for collection, thanking him.
"By the way, this heat is lower than expected. Still heading east?"
"East where?"
"Stories passed down mention: atop cloudsea, giants' mountaintops blanketed in snow, grayish flame unextinguished, guarded by Fire Giant. If I could battle him..."
Alexander's jar hid expression, but longing evident.
"I'll go eventually; might meet on the snowy peaks."
"Great; challenging with Your Majesty would thrill."
"Speaking of, I sense Rykard but not precisely. Know his spot?"
"Below, in Audience Pathway cave—with Aldrich. But passes buildings; reinforced guards—hard to avoid detection."
"Got it; thanks."
With intel, Frieren waved farewell—no delay. Alexander waved enthusiastically; brief meet, no reluctance.
The Warrior Jar's travels continued to battle's end.
His jar was damaged—Frieren sensed but said nothing.
Alexander had time to fool around.
Her priority: slay Blasphemous Lord Rykard, lest endless southern trash drain forces—must subjugate.
Below the manor.
As Alexander said, careful sensing revealed downward path; ground's dull hum confirmed.
But advancing, another familiar aura emerged.
Fully armored Bernahl leaned on sword from chair, sensing intruders.
He responded with pressure; White Reed armor stirred, aura restrained yet steady. Battle-hardened, now facing peak duel.
Silver-haired girl approached stair entrance.
"Long time; Volcano full of reunions—met several old friends en route."
"Yes; many friends ahead—fortunate."
They smiled at each other.
Unlike foes about to clash; pressures shown, no strikes—peaceful.
Melina and Ranni behind tensed; quasi-king war imminent.
In a sense, Lands Between's first quasi-king standoff; previously eras differed or independent—now true clash.
"Rykard and Aldrich ahead?"
"Awaiting long, Frieren—especially black slime, yapping revenge daily, annoying."
"Understand."
"Rya and Patches vanished suddenly; seen en route?"
"They're fine; return safe."
"...Throne irrelevant; vengeance on Erdtree, finish my witch's work. Target Maliketh—our conflict elsewhere. But helping friend: Soul of Cinder, stay."
Eyes locked; Stormhill encounter faded, replaced by battle spirit—Volcano grudge settled.
Next instant, stormblade fell.
Frieren unmoved; black-red Destined Death rune short knife blocked firmly.
"Fine; let me preview Destined Death early."
____
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