With a month left before the First-Class Mage Exam, my clone in Äußerst proceeded with its lowest-priority directive: Collection.
Directive: Gather any missing or newly developed magical data in the target world while executing primary objectives.
The most logical place to fulfill this directive was the Great Library of the Magic City. Serie had long since granted me full clearance, and the library staff, forewarned by their master, offered no resistance.
Because my chassis did not require sleep, sustenance, or rest, I operated twenty-four hours a day. Rumors of a tireless, white-haired girl devouring books at inhuman speeds soon began to circulate among the city's scholars.
It was only a matter of time before these rumors reached a familiar set of ears.
"So this is where you've been hiding," an airy voice said from behind me.
"Affirmative," I replied without looking up from the ancient scroll I was scanning. "Statistical analysis indicates this unit has been present in this facility for a total of 254 hours and 48 minutes."
I had actually finished the primary data collection centuries ago when my Main Unit first visited. This current endeavor was merely to patch any minor gaps in the database, new spells developed in the intervening millennium, variations in magical theory, and so on.
I closed the scroll and turned to face the speaker.
"Query: For what purpose have you sought out this unit?"
My optical sensors took in the three individuals standing before me. Frieren, Fern, and Stark.
Based on historical data, Frieren rarely initiated contact without a specific, usually practical, reason. Given their presence in the Magic City and their upcoming objective, the probability was high that it involved the Mage Exam.
More specifically, it likely involved "teaching."
After all, my Main Unit had successfully trained Takson, the "Battle-Crazed Saint," and Flamme, the legendary Founder of Human Magic.
If simply tossing a pile of grimoires at a child and telling them to figure it out constituted "teaching," then I suppose Frieren technically qualified as my student as well.
Frieren looked at me, unfazed by my analytical stare. She was used to my eccentricities.
"I want to ask a favor," she said smoothly. "Could you teach these two for a bit?"
She gestured to Fern and Stark. The implication was clear: she wanted me to run a crash course for her companions before the exam.
"..."
"Query: What is the consensus of the subjects in question?"
Fern offered a polite, practiced bow. "We would be in your care, Lady Stell."
Stark rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit intimidated but resolute. "I don't mind. I'll do whatever it takes to get stronger."
"See?" Frieren smiled. "They're on board."
The request was not a significant drain on my resources. It would not interfere with my primary objectives. Furthermore, it was a request from a recognized "Companion." The logical outcome was obvious.
"Request Accepted."
I could simply utilize the training modules the Main Unit had developed for Takson and Flamme.
Before they left to finalize the training schedule, I stopped Frieren.
"Addendum: Frieren. I require the return of the loaned equipment."
I was referring to the golden sphere, the insurance policy I had given her a thousand years ago to protect the Elven Village.
Because my Main Unit had subsequently annihilated the Demon King's forces, the Great Massacre of the Elves had been averted. The failsafe had never been needed. The device was now obsolete, and its raw dimensional energy needed to be recovered.
Frieren didn't argue. She knew the terms of our agreement.
"Oh, that thing," she said, setting down her ever-present suitcase and rummaging through it. "You said you'd come back for it eventually."
She pulled out the golden sphere, which still hummed with dormant power, and handed it to me. "I never had to use it. Here you go."
"Confirmation: Transaction complete. Contract fulfilled."
I scanned the sphere, verifying its integrity, and deposited it into my internal storage space.
"Well, see you at training," Frieren said, turning to leave with her companions.
"..."
I did not offer a farewell. Frieren, accustomed to my silence, didn't expect one.
….
"I can't believe it," Stark practically vibrated with excitement as they walked through the city streets. "I'm going to be trained by the teacher of the 'Battle-Crazed Saint'! This is going to be amazing. I'm going to get so strong!"
He was practically starry-eyed at the prospect of learning from a living legend.
"Mmhmm..."
Frieren's response was non-committal, and her expression was strangely clouded.
Fern, always observant of her master's moods, noticed immediately. "Lady Frieren? Is something troubling you?"
"Well," Frieren sighed, a look of profound resignation crossing her face, "there is something I should probably mention."
"Did I say something wrong?" Stark asked, his excitement faltering.
Frieren stopped and looked at the red-headed warrior. "Stark. How sturdy do you think your body is?"
Stark blinked, confused by the sudden, morbid question. "Uh... pretty sturdy, I guess? Master Eisen trained me well. I can take a hit." He flexed a bicep, trying to reassure her.
"Right," Frieren muttered, looking away. "Because from what Takson told me back then... her training methods aren't exactly meant for normal people to survive."
She remembered the stories of Takson dying repeatedly in a simulated hellscape, only to be resurrected and thrown back in. She trusted Eisen's training, but Stell's methods were... unique.
"Survive...?" Stark squeaked, his excitement instantly evaporating, replaced by a cold, clammy dread.
"Um, Lady Frieren? Is it too late to cancel?!"
"Don't worry," Frieren patted his arm reassuringly. "I'm sure Stell knows what she's doing."
"That doesn't sound reassuring at all!"
One Week Before the Exam
True to my word, I had commenced the training regimen two weeks prior.
However, the "training" was heavily skewed toward Stark.
For Fern, I employed the "Flamme Method." I provided her with a curated selection of advanced grimoires from my database and instructed her to self-study.
Fern had been understandably skeptical of this pedagogical approach. But when Frieren volunteered to act as her "tutor" and guide her through the texts, Fern accepted the arrangement.
"Lady Frieren," Fern asked one evening as they sat in their inn room, "you're not just here to tutor me, are you?"
Frieren, who was buried in a pile of Stell's replicated grimoires, didn't look up immediately.
"You're very perceptive, Fern."
"If you wanted these books," Fern pressed, her curiosity piqued, "why didn't you just ask Lady Stell directly? You're friends, aren't you?"
Frieren slowly closed the book in her hands. She looked out the window into the dark night, her expression turning unusually stiff. She looked... embarrassed?
"Is it a difficult question?" Fern asked, tilting her head.
Frieren's face contorted into a grimace of profound discomfort. Seeing her usually unflappable master look so flustered only made Fern more curious.
….
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