Chapter 397: Survive! Aura
The hallway was hushed, save for the rhythmic clicking of their footsteps. As the highest tier of the Magic Association, this sector was forbidden to all but the inner circle; since Serie had claimed the surrounding chambers for her own over the years, Solifra was essentially the only other soul who dared ascend this high.
Aura glanced furtively at the woman walking before her—jet-black hair, dark eyes, a face that was undeniably striking. She was a demon, just like Aura, yet she radiated an aura that felt… alien.
"Um," Aura finally couldn't help herself. "Are you… a demon, too?"
She had sensed the demonic resonance in Solifra earlier, but she craved the certainty of a spoken admission. The very idea that a demon held residence within the hallowed halls of the Continental Magic Association was a concept so absurd it bordered on madness.
Solifra didn't break her stride. "Yes."
"Then… how did you end up in the Association?" Aura asked, the question gnawing at her curiosity.
Solifra fell silent for a moment. "Because Rhodes-sama willed it."
Aura waited for an elaboration, but it never came. Solifra simply marched on. Aura was left blinking in the silence. That's the answer? It doesn't even make sense. Still, she knew better than to push her luck, so she quietly kept pace.
After a long walk, Solifra stopped and pushed open a door. "This is your room. You will stay here."
Aura peered inside. The chamber was modest but immaculate, furnished with a bed, a desk, and a window that offered a sweeping view of the distant Imperial Capital.
"I… I'm staying alone?" Aura asked, surprised.
Were they really this trusting? Why hadn't they locked her in a dungeon? Granted, her Obedience Magic was currently bound to Frieren—and would soon fall under the scrutiny of the Elven Saint—but as the creator of that very magic, Aura knew a few loopholes. If she wasn't under a direct command, she retained a sliver of autonomous movement. She was, in theory, free to go wherever she pleased!
But it was a hollow freedom. Her life hung by a thread held by people who could delete her from existence with a thought; escape was a fantasy.
"Yes," Solifra replied.
She felt only a flicker of detached curiosity toward this newcomer. The idea that this demon could pose a threat never even crossed her mind. The girl was pathetically weak. This was the pinnacle of the Association, occupied only by Rhodes, Serie, and herself. Even if Aura descended to the lower levels, she wouldn't last a second against the swarm of Tier 2 and Tier 3 mages stationed there.
"What about you?"
"I am in the next room. If you need anything, find me."
Since Rhodes had issued the order, Solifra intended to fulfill it with meticulous care. She would ensure the demon adapted to the life of the Association, for better or worse.
Aura nodded, wanting to ask more, but Solifra had already turned and vanished. Aura stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was plush, a level of comfort she had never experienced.
Truly, the most famous magical organization in the world, she mused. The perks alone are worth the slavery.
She walked to the desk, peering into the mirror. One broken horn, a tapestry of bloodstains, and rags for clothes. A sudden, unexpected laugh bubbled up in her throat.
She was alive.
She was a pet, yes. A slave, most likely. And the Elven Saint looked at her with the warmth of a glacier. But she was alive. And as long as there was life, there was a sliver of hope. Perhaps Frieren would be in a good mood one day and simply let her go?
When Frieren had unleashed that Divine Strike, Aura had been certain the end had come. She had felt the terror lock her joints, but the survival instinct—that frantic, clawing need to persist—had driven her legs to move. She had stumbled away from the epicenter just as the mages around her were frantically weaving defensive wards, and by some stroke of cosmic luck, she had been caught only by the fringe of the blast.
"Survive! As long as you can survive, anything is possible!"
The words echoed in her mind. Aura collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A single, chance encounter, yet why had it altered the trajectory of her soul so completely? Driven by the hunger to live, she had performed acts of subservience that should have been anathema to her kind.
But it didn't matter. As of today, she was a member of the Magic Association. Albeit a "pet." She was certain that with her innate intellect and ambition, she could rise to the top. She was destined to be a Great Demon of the Seven Sages! Even if the start was humiliating, one day—
"Aura," Solifra's voice came from the hall.
Aura jumped, rushing to the door. Solifra stood there, holding a bundle of clean clothes.
"Change into these."
Aura was about to take them, but she caught the hesitation in Solifra's expression. "Is something wrong?"
"I was thinking about your wounds. Shall I treat them with Holy Magic?"
Aura froze. "You… you know Holy Magic?"
A demon wielding the arts of the Goddess? Was that even possible?
"Yes. Though, I am not particularly… practiced."
"Then, I would be grateful."
Despite her internal shock, Aura was eager for any reprieve. Solifra smiled faintly. "Then I shall begin. Though, for some reason, my healing spells have a habit of aggravating the injuries instead. No one in the Association dares to let me try."
Aura: "???"
Before she could form a protest, Solifra's runic array flared to life, and a torrent of white light washed over her. Aura winced, bracing for the agony of a botched spell.
Wait, sisters! If you know your healing is cursed, why are you using it on me?!
To her shock, the light settled into her skin, and the pain didn't worsen—it began to recede. The wounds were closing. Aura stared at her arms, bewildered.
Solifra smiled even wider at the success. "See? Useful. I shall call for you at dinner time."
Aura nodded blankly, still trying to process the impossibility of what had just happened. As Solifra walked away, she paused to add, "Welcome to the Magic Association."
Aura watched her back, and for the first time, a genuine smile touched her lips. "Thank you."
It was a whisper, but it was honest.
Back in the room.
Serie set her tea down and looked at Rhodes. "That demon. What is your plan?"
"Keep her."
"Why?"
Rhodes thought for a moment. "Don't you think she's like Solifra? When she first arrived, she was just like this. Terrified, cautious, yet clawing for a chance to live. You wanted to kill her then, too. I was the one who stopped you."
Serie went quiet. It had been an age ago—so long ago she had nearly forgotten the frayed, frightened thing Solifra had been when she first stumbled through their door.
"She is different," Serie admitted. "Her emotional depth is far beyond the common demon, but that is all."
"That," Rhodes said, "is more than enough."
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