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Chapter 1: Serie, Be my Teacher
The Age of Myths.
A world where gods and demons coexisted.
"Weak and short-lived creature."
In front of the campfire, Kurtz looked innocent as he gazed at the petite elf who had suddenly appeared before him.
The flames cast dancing shadows across her face, making her expression harder to read than he'd like.
After transmigrating to this world for so long, he finally saw a character he recognized.
Her smooth, golden hair cascaded down to her waist like molten sunlight, catching the firelight with every subtle movement.
Those pointed elf ears were unmistakable, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel, and a faint smirk played at the corners of her lips, the kind that promised trouble.
Despite her arrogant, condescending posture, her youthful face created a charming contrast that would fool anyone who didn't know better.
"Want some?" Kurtz offered the roasted mushroom in his hand, steam still rising from its perfectly browned surface.
He really wanted some grilled skewers for himself, but the monsters in this damned world were all ridiculously strong, forcing him to become a vegetarian.
At least the mushrooms here had some decent flavour to them.
As for the elf girl in front of him, Kurtz recognised her at a glance.
It was the famous petite master, Serie.
However, at this moment, she was like a young girl of a few hundred years old, completely lacking the powerful, effortless demeanour she would display in later eras.
No overwhelming magical pressure, no casual dismissal of entire civilisations.
Just... curiosity, barely contained behind those eyes.
Sure enough, he transmigrated too early, didn't he?
Serie looked at the roasted mushroom skewer Kurtz offered, her head tilting slightly as she pondered.
The scent reached her first, earthy and rich, nothing like the raw foods of her forest home. After a moment's hesitation, she took it.
Only after seeing Kurtz take a bite did she gently open her mouth and tentatively bite into it, as if testing for poison.
As she took the first bite, the juices burst forth in her mouth, an indescribable deliciousness flooding her senses.
It was a taste Serie had never experienced in the Elf Forest. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, a crack in that composed facade.
Their elf race believed in nature and harmony, rarely even lighting fires, so how could she have tasted the impact of modern grilled skewers?
The very concept of deliberately altering food through heat was foreign to her people.
If it were any other elf, they probably wouldn't have taken Kurtz's skewer. The elemental aura on it was too chaotic, too touched by artificial flame.
But Serie was different; she'd always been different.
Unlike elves who cherished freedom and peace, Serie yearned for war and loved this incredibly chaotic Age of Myths.
Where others saw destruction, she saw opportunity. Where others sought tranquillity, she craved the thrill of conflict.
"My name is Kurtz, what's yours?"
Although he knew Serie, Kurtz naturally couldn't just call her by her name.
That would only make her wary, and wariness from someone who could probably incinerate him with a thought wasn't ideal.
"Serie," the petite master replied indifferently, taking another bite of the mushroom skewer.
The name rolled off her tongue like it carried weight, which, considering who she'd become, it did.
Indeed, food was the best way to bridge relationships. The elf girl, who had been so arrogant just a moment ago, now seemed almost... approachable.
Almost.
"Do you know where this is? I'm lost." Kurtz gestured vaguely at the towering trees surrounding them, their branches forming a canopy so thick that only fragments of starlight filtered through.
Ever since transmigrating to this world, Kurtz has been lost. Days blurred together in an endless maze of ancient forests and unfamiliar constellations.
Until he met Serie, he hadn't encountered any being he could communicate with that wouldn't immediately try to eat him.
Let alone other humans.
Therefore, Kurtz speculated whether he had transmigrated a few millennia too early, ending up in the Age of Myths from Frieren.
The age when gods still walked the earth and magic flowed like rivers.
"The outskirts of the Elf Forest." Serie's tone suggested this should be obvious. "You should be glad you didn't venture deeper into this forest."
The Elf Forest was home not only to their elf race but also to various powerful magical beasts, ancient things with too many teeth and not enough mercy.
This weak human in front of her would probably only become their prey, a brief, crunchy snack before they moved on to more substantial meals.
"Then, have you ever seen humans like me… um, creatures like me?"
Uncertain if humans had appeared in this era, Kurtz rephrased his question.
The words felt clumsy on his tongue. How do you ask if your entire species exists yet?
At the same time, seeing that the roasted mushroom skewer in Serie's hand was finished, he quickly offered another one.
Her eyes tracked the movement with predatory focus.
Gazing at the fragrant roasted mushroom skewer before her, Serie hesitated for a moment.
Pride warred with curiosity, and apparently, curiosity won. She took it with the same careful deliberation as before.
"I saw one two hundred years ago, but that fellow wasn't as lucky as you; a magical beast ate him." She said it as if she were discussing the weather.
Death was just another fact of life in this era.
Serie didn't know much about the human race beyond rumours and fragments.
She had only heard about them from the elders of the elf race, usually in the context of cautionary tales.
It was said that they possessed bodies similar to those of the gods, but were incredibly weak. A cruel joke of creation they were.
They couldn't cast various divine spells like the gods, nor did they possess the eternal lifespan of the elves; they had only a mere few decades.
Mayflies, burning bright and dying fast.
If it weren't for their decent reproductive capabilities, they would probably have long disappeared from this world, like so many other failed experiments of the gods.
Despite this, the weak human race still lived a nomadic life, forming various small tribes and migrating everywhere to avoid the wars between the different races.
Always running, always hiding, always one step away from extinction.
That's why Serie said "weak and short-lived" when she first saw Kurtz. It wasn't personal, just an observation of biological reality.
"If you keep walking in this direction, you'll leave the Elf Forest's territory." She pointed northeast with one delicate finger.
"There are no powerful magical beasts along the way either. Mostly just things that will kill you quickly instead of playing with their food first."
After finishing her roasted mushroom skewer, Serie patted her bottom and was ready to leave.
The brief encounter was over, filed away as a minor curiosity.
To her, this human in front of her was merely an insignificant passerby in her long life.
Perhaps a thousand years from now, she might occasionally recall that on a day like this, there was once a human whose roasted mushroom skewers were delicious.
That was all. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Please wait a moment." Kurtz wouldn't let such a powerful ally as Serie leave.
Not when he'd finally found someone who could help him survive this nightmare world.
"I have an impertinent request."
Serie paused, one eyebrow arching with mild interest.
Although he didn't know how much difference there was between this historical Serie and the later master known as the walking grimoire, she definitely knew magic.
The air around her hummed with barely contained power.
After transmigrating to this world, Kurtz awakened a magical talent called [CREATION].
As the name suggested, he could create various kinds of magic, theoretically.
However, putting theory into practice was proving difficult.
For example, he once attempted to create fire magic by understanding combustion as a rapid oxidation process.
After countless experiments, it instead turned into a magic similar to a snap lighter, useful, but hardly the devastating fireballs he'd imagined.
Once he wanted to make a fire, he only needed to find dry firewood, use magic to snap his fingers, and flames would appear to ignite the pile.
Convenient, certainly, but not exactly battle-ready.
Besides that, there were various convenient and useful spells, such as water generation and cleansing magic. Domestic magic, really.
The kind of thing that would make him an excellent camp follower but a terrible warrior.
But that was it.
He couldn't generate either offensive or healing types of magic, the kinds that actually mattered in a world where everything wanted to kill you.
Because he couldn't understand the corresponding concepts deeply enough, he couldn't create them properly.
For example, he could understand flame generation as a result of friction ignition, and water generation as the condensation of moisture from air molecules.
But how to weaponise these forces, how to channel intent to harm or heal, that touched Kurtz's blind spot of knowledge.
A materialist transmigrated into a magical world, unable to grasp what 'will made manifest' actually meant in practical terms.
Hearing Kurtz's request, Serie turned around fully, those ancient eyes focusing on him with new intensity.
If this man wanted her to escort him out of the Elf Forest, she would never agree. She had no interest in playing nursemaid to a lost human.
Because she currently had no intention of leaving the forest herself.
It was true that Serie liked war and enjoyed this world of divine battles and constant tribal conflicts, but she wasn't foolish. Reckless, perhaps, but not stupid.
Many in this world could easily crush her with a single slap: gods, ancient demons, beings whose names were whispered in fearful reverence.
At least until she became strong enough, she wasn't planning to emerge from her forest sanctuary.
"I hope you can teach me magic." The words hung in the air between them like a challenge.
Kurtz's request left Serie momentarily stunned. Of all the things she'd expected him to ask, food, directions, protection, this wasn't one of them.
"Teach you magic?" Serie narrowed her eyes, studying him with new interest. She had never heard of humans being able to learn magic, at least not real magic.
"You humans cannot learn magic. I cannot teach you."
The dismissal was automatic, ingrained by centuries of assumed superiority.
"It's not that we can't, but that no one has ever taught us." Kurtz's voice carried quiet conviction, the certainty of someone who knew more than he should.
He snapped his fingers, and the blazing bonfire instantly extinguished, not smothered, not gradually dying, but snuffed out completely in a single moment.
The kind of precise control that would make even experienced mages pause.
Then, with a water generation spell, he completely extinguished the remaining heat of the fire, steam rising briefly before dissipating.
Every ember dead, every possibility of rekindling cut off with surgical precision.
"Interesting." The word escaped Serie's lips like a breath of surprise.
Gazing at the magic she had never seen before, so crude yet so precisely controlled, so simple yet so fundamentally different from elven techniques.
Serie felt something stir in her chest. A feeling that had been dormant for decades.
For the first time in her life, genuine curiosity bloomed within her old heart.
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Hola,
How are you all doing? I hope you are doing well.
So yeah, this is a Friren Fic, it's good, and I personally like it.
Hope you do tooo..
Now enjoy
Bye!!