"Finally… has it come to this…?"
In a certain time, in a certain place, the man muttered these words.
His expression was complicated—part grief, part faint blessing.
What he saw was a possible future.
A future in which a demon girl, struck by tragedy, having caused tragedy herself, crushed by the guilt she felt, having tasted loss once more and lost the will to live, would nevertheless find the strength to move forward because of the words of a human girl she had lived with as family.
At the same time, it was the moment when a "hero of justice" would begin to step into true hell.
The man had just encountered the piece necessary for that relatively better future.
To that piece, he left a message:
"One year from now, I will die before my will is fulfilled."
No choice could overturn that future.
He was not without fear.
But knowing it in advance, he had ample time to steel himself. No complaints would come now.
"Soon, a young hero will come to you."
—It would be him who saves the world. Unwillingly, yes.
He had no right to say that he wished to save it with his own hands.
The man knew all too well that hell was common.
Yet he had allowed her, born in that hell, to continue suffering.
Then, he would accept at least the blame that would not be remembered by history.
"…I'm sorry, Frieren. I may be placing an unpleasant role on you."
In one sense, the two were alike.
Yet in another sense, they were completely opposite.
Still, if it could carve out a future in which that demon girl could find even a little peace,
If it could help an elf who still could not understand humans begin to comprehend them,
Then their meeting was essential.
They lacked the same things.
The skills honed to kill demons were the same.
Yet their encounters were different.
What the demon girl had not experienced, the elf mage had; what the elf had not experienced, the demon girl had.
By fate, if their meetings were different, they could complement each other.
"…Fate, huh? I hope there is salvation on the path you two take."
Though he had eyes to see all possible futures, the southern hero still prayed.
He was a great sinner.
Thus, he was ready to die.
He did not expect salvation for himself, having been a mere observer of the future, manipulating others, and arbitrarily choosing the world's outcome.
Yet still, he wished a better future for humanity.
…If there was one lingering regret:
"The 'Iron Hero' who gave power to that demon girl… I would have liked to meet him directly, if only I could."
Even the worlds were different. Even if the future could be seen, it could not be done.
Yet a hero who polished his ordinary swordsmanship to match the famed heroes, wielded twin swords like him, and fought across the battlefield for his ideals—he wished, if possible, to meet and speak to such a "hero of justice" from another world.
With that lingering regret, the southern hero gave his life in pursuit of his ideals.
◇
The chapel of the ruined monastery, scattered with debris and devastated.
The priest girl had struggled to protect the children from demons. The conflict between the demon girl and the white elf mage had left it in ruins.
In the midst of it, Linie and Frieren still glared at each other.
In her right hand, Linie gripped the "Dahh's Holy Sword," familiar even to Frieren, her pink hair flowing down her back, staring straight at Frieren.
Meanwhile, Frieren kept her staff raised, her icy gaze unbroken in caution.
Amid their standoff, a phrase Linie had spoken earlier echoed repeatedly in Frieren's mind:
"The dead cannot speak. The living cannot conveniently hear the dead."
The first time Frieren heard it, Himmel's face flashed in her mind, and her grip on her staff tightened.
It was impossible to dismiss it as just the words of a demon beast.
"So, we must live, and deliver our wishes."
How many times she wanted to shout—"Stop! Don't speak further!"
She had longed to understand humans more, yet she had no real wish regarding the human she most wanted to understand. She hadn't even tried.
"I did not deceive. I received your wish."
Lies.
She could not receive Himmel's words of wish. She had not even attempted to.
Yet why did this one speak them?
Surely, with that skilled disguise, she had tricked and killed the priest girl lying there. She had trampled even the girl's final wish magic, surviving on it.
When she turned her back earlier toward the girl's corpse, it was probably to prevent losing that magic.
It was already a troublesome double effort.
Yet still—still…
Why does the demon's gaze look like that?
It was clearly different from before she received the girl's healing magic.
Within those dark purple eyes… there was a faint light.
Frieren recognized it.
She had seen it many times, yet had pretended not to.
It resembled Himmel's eyes, just a little.
(What… is this thing…?)
From the first time she saw her, she had felt this one was different from other demons.
A fluctuation in magical power hinted at control attempts.
Rather than mastering unique magic, she had perfected extremely basic magic—barely magic by demon standards.
Her magic produced results clearly disproportionate to the mana spent.
Even in front of full magical power, she did not falter.
It was unsettling enough.
But after receiving that healing magic, she was clearly different.
Even more so.
Yet Frieren could not understand what had changed.
And one more, worst phenomenon had occurred:
(The fluctuation in magic is gone. She is maintaining the highest precision mana control I felt, continuously.)
What had happened to eliminate the fluctuation?
This was the worst.
Their disadvantage in magic compatibility had worsened.
The chapel was wide enough to fight while flying with magic, but with a warrior like her, closing the distance would be easy.
Even her advantage in magic control had been lost.
And she held the "Dahh's Holy Sword."
Along with her unusual magic to create this and other various swords.
The compatibility was worst-case, and Frieren had yet to discern the true nature of this demon's power.
"I'll say it again. Stand aside, mage."
Linie warned Frieren again.
Normally, Frieren would heed such a warning.
Even against demons, however much she hated them, Frieren knew her limits—if disadvantageous, she would retreat.
But Frieren replied without faltering.
"I refuse. You are a dangerous demon. I must kill you here."
She spoke her true intent.
This was a demon beyond comprehension.
Not just a mage or a demon—she had mana control on par with herself.
With this skill, she could probably fight in close combat while concealing her mana, like the Empire's shadow warriors.
Her path, honed to kill efficiently without showing strength, had completely diverged from demon instincts.
Moreover, she had made the priest girl use her miracle—highly skilled mimicry.
Even if it meant mutual death, Frieren intended to defeat this demon.
Though its simple threat might rank below Mahat or the Seven Collapse Sages, its very nature made it extremely dangerous.
Yes, that was the impression she felt from the demon before her.
"You have no intention to retreat… Then at least, let's change locations."
"…?"
The demon's sudden proposal made Frieren frown, though she kept her stance.
"I know you tried to help Anju and the others. Even though it is a corpse, involving them isn't your true wish, is it?"
"…Silence."
"You… too."
Frieren couldn't help but interrupt at those words.
The way it was said made it sound as if the demon before her had been trying to save the corpses of the priest and the children—even knowing they were dead. That implication irritated Frieren.
It was obvious that the demon's true goal was not to protect the priest, but to make use of her magic.
A demon would never act to protect a corpse.
Even though Frieren recognized that this being had diverged from the demons she knew, she couldn't help but fit it into the category of "demon." Was she aware of the contradiction?
"I've had enough of indulging the ramblings of beasts. Even if we change locations, why would you, knowing that I intended to protect that corpse, make such a proposal?"
Honestly, the suggestion to change location was convenient.
The chapel was wide enough for magic combat, but outdoors would favor a mage.
Still, Frieren knew that compared to the situation now, it wouldn't give her a clear advantage against this demon.
"You're a warrior type, yet in a Zoltlark rapid-fire duel, you surpass me. Being able to apply a warrior's technique directly to general attack magic like Zoltlark means that even in an open area, you could easily overwhelm ordinary mages. You can fire faster than I can and could use them as hostages from a distance… That's why, if I'm going to finish you, it has to be here, where those people are in my sight."
Frieren knew it was a weak excuse.
Even so, moving to an open area would certainly favor her.
Yet she didn't want to follow the demon's words.
If she did… she would feel as if she were acknowledging the demon's actions.
"You don't intend to move? Fine… then it's settled."
Frieren's stance must have prompted something in Linie.
Linie returned the "Dahh's Holy Sword" in her hand to magical energy.
Using that energy, she immediately remade it into a sword resembling one from the Far East.
"──Then I'll make you change it, whether you like it or not."
"The sword that turns attacks into whirlwinds—Medroji Ubalt."
Linie began swinging the sword toward the empty air multiple times. Each swing generated whirlwinds that spread outward from her as the center.
"!?"
Frieren, sensing the danger, immediately raised a defensive spell in front of her.
Yet not a single whirlwind approached her; even those that passed nearby missed her magical barrier entirely.
As she began observing the area to figure out the target, something happened:
All the lights in the chapel went out.
Midnight.
The candlelight that had illuminated the chapel was snuffed out by the numerous whirlwinds, leaving Frieren surrounded by darkness.
(This… is bad!!)
She instantly regretted refusing the earlier suggestion.
(I can't sense her magic…)
Frieren instinctively concealed her own magic, but any movement would reveal even the slightest trace.
The same was true for the demon, but the difference between a warrior and a mage in initial reaction speed was huge.
Add the darkness to that.
At any moment, the opponent held her lifeline in their hands.
(How can I break this situation… hmm?)
Panicked, Frieren looked up toward the light and sensed magic from above and behind her.
The light was moving on its own.
The only moonlight streaming through the chapel windows was shifting, seemingly of its own accord.
(…No. Is it a mirror reflecting moonlight, moved by magic?)
Frieren realized the source of the moving moonlight, but that didn't make the situation any better.
Fortunately, she was not in the path of the moving light. No need to worry.
Yet she couldn't take her eyes off it.
The spotlight of the full moon, reflected in the mirror, moved along the center aisle of the chapel, as if guided by something, heading toward the back.
There, she saw it.
Linie, on one knee, praying with the goddess statue behind her.
"───"
This time, Frieren was stunned.
Among demons, some could mimic priests and pretend to pray.
Turning one's back to the goddess while praying could be explained as a precaution against Frieren.
Yet… why would a demon pray to the goddess in this situation?
Frieren's gaze shifted to Linie's hands.
A bloodied cross, held tightly in her right hand and whispered in prayer.
Frieren didn't know, but it had belonged to the priest girl who had lived with Linie like family.
Using that memento, the demon Linie prayed.
Praying with her back to the goddess made her look… like a criminal awaiting judgment.
Shaking off the thought, Frieren prepared her staff, unwilling to miss the opportunity presented.
"This time… it seems you couldn't receive the goddess's protection."
Perhaps in response to the earlier display of healing magic, Frieren muttered.
This was a demon she could never fully understand.
So she would finish her here.
"──Had without noticing pain to create weapons. The lost child still remains, lighting a signal at the sword's grave."
Linie's voice echoed through the air, resonating slowly.
It was a phrase she had never spoken before.
That day, under similarly reflected moonlight, she had observed Anju praying to the goddess.
Imitating that posture, and holding the memento of the girl she had lived with, she raised her prayer.
──She had continued creating the hell of weapons without even realizing the pain.
"──I have worthless. My redress never ends. The hill's tree bears fruit unknowingly."
──She had no value. Yet she would continue atonement. She would make it right.
The words of the girl she had shared life with echoed in her mind: "Be happy."
Fulfilling that wish would be difficult.
Yet it was enough.
As long as she carried that received wish, she could keep going.
Memories of the village, her family, the kind villagers, the girl, and the children flashed through her mind.
Growing apples together. Playing together. Teaching them her craft. Sharing warmth, receiving hugs.
Though those days were past, she had truly been there.
She would not forget.
"It's over."
A merciless light shot from Frieren's staff.
Linie, on one knee, had no way to evade it.
Yet she did not move, nor close her eyes, continuing her prayer.
"──My only load was… the bloodied body…"
As the murderous light approached, a single tear fell from her barely open eye, catching Frieren's attention.
Frieren widened her eyes in shock, but did not intervene.
The prayer was complete.
"──'Unlimited Blade Works'… made from swords, once upon a time."
Suddenly, a black flame spread from Linie's center.
The flame consumed even the approaching light.
"Wh-…!"
The black flame engulfed Frieren as well, spreading darkness.
The world was overwritten. The encroaching black flame knew no stopping.
Eventually, the black flame swallowed everything.
And then…
──The world / went / dark.