Late morning arrived quietly in the mountains.
The blizzard had not stopped. It never truly stopped in the Decle Region. What it did instead was change its mood. During the night it had roared like an angry animal trying to tear the cabin apart plank by plank. Now it had settled into something calmer. Snow still fell, but gently, drifting down in thin white threads. The wind still pushed against the walls, yet it sounded less like a scream and more like someone breathing through their teeth.
Inside the cabin, the fire in the hearth had burned low.
The wooden room held a comfortable warmth that felt almost suspicious considering the weather outside. Fern had spent most of the early morning feeding the fire with the last of the dry logs they had found stacked against the wall. Every now and then she would glance toward Stark to make sure the warmth reached him.
Stark had not woken once.
Sein sat beside him, rubbing his hands together and watching the boy's breathing with the tense patience of someone who had spent his life looking for signs that something was wrong.
Kraft stood near the small window, staring outside as if measuring the mood of the storm itself.
Frieren had been awake for hours. She sat on the edge of the bed where she had slept, her eyes half open in that usual lazy way of hers, though today there was less laziness and more quiet focus.
At some point the fire crackled loudly.
Kraft turned away from the window. "It's time," he said.
The words were simple and carried no dramatic tone. He spoke them in the same calm voice someone might use when announcing dinner.
Sein blinked and looked up. "Now?"
Kraft nodded. "It's late morning already. If we leave now we should reach the place within eighteen to twenty hours if we walk fast."
Fern's head lifted from where she had been adjusting Stark's blankets. "There's still a drizzle outside," she said.
The snow had softened, but it had not stopped. White dust drifted slowly past the window.
Kraft walked toward the door and placed a hand against the wood. Cold seeped through the plank even from inside.
"We should go anyway," he replied. "If we wait for perfect weather we might stay here for weeks." His eyes moved briefly to Stark. "The longer we wait, the longer the boy suffers."
That was enough to end the discussion.
Fern stood and began to move around the room with quiet efficiency. She packed the remaining supplies, folded spare cloths, and secured the bags they had brought with them.
Frieren walked to the door and stood there silently, her hand resting on the latch as if she could already feel the cold waiting outside.
Sein rose carefully.
Stark stirred faintly when he was lifted. Not enough to wake, only enough to remind them that his body still reacted to movement.
Sein secured the unconscious boy against his back and tightened the cloth straps he had improvised earlier.
Kraft stepped forward.
"I should carry him," the elf said. "I am stronger and my stamina is better."
Sein shook his head almost immediately. "I'll do it."
Kraft watched him for a moment. "You will tire."
"Probably."
Kraft crossed his arms. "We cannot afford to slow down."
"I know."
Sein adjusted Stark's weight slightly and rolled his shoulders to test the balance. "I want to do this," he said.
The words were quiet but firm.
For a moment the cabin was silent except for the faint sound of snow brushing the roof.
Kraft studied him a little longer. Then he nodded. "Very well. But if you feel tired, say so immediately."
"I will."
Fern finished tying the last strap on one of the bags and slung it across her shoulder. "We can go now," she said.
Frieren opened the door. Cold rushed inside instantly.
The wind was not violent anymore, but the air itself carried a sharp bite that crept into clothing the moment someone stepped outside.
They left the cabin one by one.
The door closed behind them with a dull thud that sounded strangely final.
The world outside had turned pale and quiet.
Snow stretched across the ground like a blank sheet, broken only by low rocks and the occasional stubborn tree branch poking through the surface.
Kraft began walking first. Fern followed behind him. Sein walked carefully with Stark's weight on his back.
Frieren moved alongside them and raised one hand. Mana spread outward in a thin ripple. A faint veil formed around the group, invisible to the eye but noticeable in the way the cold suddenly felt less aggressive.
The wind still pushed against them, yet it lost some of its sharp teeth.
Sein noticed it almost immediately. "That helps," he said.
Frieren gave a small nod.
The group settled into a steady pace.
Their footsteps pressed into the snow in a single line, leaving a clear path behind them that the drifting flakes slowly tried to erase.
Hours passed quietly at first.
The landscape did not change much. The Decle Region seemed designed by someone who loved snow a little too much. Hills rolled into other hills. Rocks appeared where one least expected them. The sky remained a dull gray sheet with the sun barely visible behind it.
At one point Sein cleared his throat. "Kraft."
The elf did not slow his pace but turned his head slightly. "Yes?"
Sein hesitated briefly, choosing his words. "I was thinking about something."
"That is usually a good sign."
Sein smiled faintly. "Frieren once told me that in elf terms she is still considered young. A teenager, more or less."
Frieren made a quiet sound that might have been annoyance. "I'm older than you," she said without looking back.
"That is not the point," Sein replied.
He shifted Stark's weight slightly and continued. "If she is young by your standards, then you must be… well, a fully grown adult."
"That would be correct."
"Which means you must have lived for far longer."
Kraft gave a small shrug. "That would also be correct."
Sein walked in silence for a few more steps before asking the next question. "Were you an adventurer?"
Kraft's boots crunched against the snow. "I used to be."
"Used to?"
"A very long time ago."
Fern glanced back briefly, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
Sein seemed pleased that the conversation had begun. "I thought so," he said.
"Oh?"
"I saw your statue once."
Kraft stopped walking.
It was not a dramatic stop. He simply slowed, then stood still for a moment as the others took a few extra steps before noticing.
"A statue," he repeated.
"Yes."
Sein looked a little embarrassed suddenly.
"In a small village. It was quite old. Moss growing on the base. It was worn out."
Kraft turned around slowly. His expression was thoughtful. "I didn't know they still existed," he said.
He smiled gently. "My accomplishments faded long ago with time."
Sein shook his head. "Maybe the stories faded," he said. "But the statue was still there." He looked ahead again, remembering. "A long time ago, my friend and I passed through that village."
"Your friend?"
Sein chuckled quietly.
"He called himself Gorilla Warrior."
Fern nearly slipped in the snow. Frieren glanced back.
Kraft raised an eyebrow. "That is… a confident name."
"Yes," Sein said. "He chose it himself. No one else approved it."
Frieren's lips twitched slightly.
Sein continued walking as he spoke. "We didn't know who the statue was at first. The writing had worn away. But it didn't matter."
"Why not?"
"Because we looked at it and thought something simple."
"What was that?"
"We thought… someone stood here once. Someone strong enough that people built a statue for them."
Sein's voice softened.
"We were just two kids. Neither of us knew much about the world. But standing there, looking at that statue… we felt inspired."
Kraft listened without interrupting.
"We decided we wanted to be adventurers too," Sein said. "We wanted to leave something behind. A mark. Something that would tell people we existed."
He laughed quietly. "Very childish dream."
Kraft shook his head. "Not childish."
Sein's smile faded slightly.
"Gorilla Warrior left one day."
"Left?"
"Yes. Packed his things. Said he was going to explore the world."
"And you did not go with him."
"No." Sein's steps slowed for a moment. "I stayed behind." He looked down at the snow. "I regret it even now."
The wind shifted slightly, brushing snow across the path behind them.
"That's why I'm here now," Sein continued. "When I saw Stark lying there and realized I couldn't help him… I thought maybe this was my chance to do something."
Kraft turned his gaze forward again. For a long moment he did not speak. Then he said quietly, "This is the future now."
Sein blinked.
Kraft gestured vaguely ahead as they walked. "The world has changed a great deal since the time when people built statues for wandering adventurers."
"How so?"
"We have scholars now," Kraft said. "Historians. Libraries. People who dedicate their lives to recording the deeds of others."
Fern listened quietly.
"In my era," Kraft continued, "a person could perform many great acts and still fade into obscurity if no one happened to carve their name into stone."
He looked back at Sein and smiled. "Do not worry."
Sein frowned slightly. "About what?"
"Unlike me," Kraft said gently, "your name will not fade."
───✧───
Late morning sunlight washed across the city like someone had poured warm milk over the rooftops. The streets bustled with the usual mixture of noise that any respectable town produced when it believed itself important enough to deserve attention. Carts creaked. Chickens complained loudly about their existence. Merchants shouted prices as if louder voices could magically produce richer customers.
Subaru walked through the crowd at a relaxed pace.
The long piece of cloth wrapped neatly around her head like a turban. The fabric hid the small horns that curved out from her hair. She had practiced wrapping it several times in front of a mirror the previous night. The result looked almost respectable. At the very least nobody had screamed "Demon!" yet, which counted as success in her opinion.
Her purple eyes moved across the busy street.
Stalls filled the market square from one end to the other. Some sold fresh bread that released comforting smells into the air. Some sold roasted meat on sticks. Some sold fruit arranged so carefully that the piles looked like colorful towers.
One stall displayed a mountain of honey cakes.
Another had a pan sizzling with spiced sausages. Subaru paused there. The smell was amazing.
Her stomach reacted immediately, which should have been a good sign. She stepped closer and studied the vendor who stood proudly behind the pan. The man wore an apron that had once been white but had since absorbed years of cooking enthusiasm.
"Hungry?" the vendor asked with a grin.
"Yes," Subaru replied honestly.
A few coins changed hands.
The vendor handed her a warm sausage wrapped in thin bread. Steam rose from it in little curls. The scent of spices filled her nose. Everything about the food promised satisfaction.
Subaru took a bite. Then her tongue touched the sausage. Her expression froze.
Something was wrong.
Not rotten wrong. Not spoiled wrong. It tasted exactly like it should taste. The spices were balanced. The meat had a satisfying bite. The bread was soft and warm.
Everything was perfect. And yet her mouth reacted as if she had just licked a brick.
Her tongue felt confused. Her throat refused to cooperate. Her brain stared at the situation like a teacher watching a student who had written the correct answer but used entirely the wrong formula.
She chewed slowly. Then she swallowed.
The vendor watched her with the hopeful eyes of a man who lived and died by customer reactions. "So?" he asked.
Subaru forced a smile. "It's great."
The vendor squinted slightly. "You sure?"
"Yes," Subaru said, laughing awkwardly. "Very great."
She took another bite to prove her claim.
Her tongue once again experienced the strange sensation of tasting something good while simultaneously feeling absolutely no desire to eat it.
It was like her mouth understood the concept of flavor but her body had unsubscribed from the whole activity.
She nodded politely to the vendor and walked away with the half eaten sausage still in her hand.
After a few steps she lowered it and stared at it.
"What is wrong with me," she muttered.
A group of children ran past her chasing a wooden hoop. Someone shouted at a goat that had decided the vegetable stall belonged to it. The city continued its cheerful chaos while Subaru examined her personal crisis.
She took another bite. Same result. Her mouth recognized the food. Her body rejected the idea.
Subaru sighed and wrapped the remaining sausage in the paper again before dropping it into a nearby bin.
"Okay," she whispered to herself. "This is probably the demon thing."
It would explain a lot.
Ever since she had woken up in this body she had noticed several unusual impulses. One of them involved biting people. Specifically biting one person.
Übel.
More than once Subaru had looked at that girl's neck and felt a strange urge that could be described politely as enthusiastic curiosity about blood circulation. She had managed to resist every time. Mostly.
Once she had leaned a little too close before realizing what she was doing. Übel had only laughed and asked if Subaru planned to kiss her. Subaru had nearly thrown herself out a window after that.
Now the food problem added another puzzle piece. "Great," Subaru muttered. "So normal food is boring now."
She continued walking through the market.
The buildings around her rose several stories high in places. Stone walls and wooden balconies leaned over the streets like neighbors trying to listen to each other's conversations.
The market itself was lively, but Subaru quickly noticed that most tourists seemed to move toward one direction. Toward the center square. Curious, she followed the crowd.
The square opened up suddenly, wide enough to fit several wagons side by side. At its center stood something that clearly served as the city's pride.
A statue.
Subaru stopped walking.
The figure carved from pale stone stood tall on a wide pedestal. The sculptor had captured the shape of a young man with short messy hair.
His posture carried quiet confidence.
One hand rested on the pommel of a sword whose tip touched the ground in front of him. A cape hung from his shoulders and curved gently behind his back.
His face looked calm. Kind. Handsome enough that several women nearby seemed to be discussing him with suspicious levels of enthusiasm.
A plaque beneath the statue read a single name. Hero Himmel.
Subaru had heard that name several times already during her short stay in the city. Every tavern conversation seemed to mention him eventually.
A group of travelers gathered near the statue while someone played a lute. A bard.
The musician stood beside the pedestal with his instrument resting against his chest. His voice carried across the square as he sang.
"Himmel, with the azure hair,
Stood foremost in the fray.
A hero born of noble grit,
Who chased the night away."
Subaru crossed her arms and listened. The bard continued. She looked at the statue, his sword, something about it seems awefully familiar. Where has she seen it before?
"His courage wasn't just in steel,
Or how he swung his sword,
But in the way he saw the world,
A beauty he adored."
A few listeners nodded solemnly as if remembering an old friend. The song moved on.
"Beside him walked the mountain's kin,
A dwarf of iron soul,
With a beard as thick as winter frost
And strength beyond control."
Subaru pictured the dwarf. The bard's voice grew louder.
"More grounded than the ancient roots,
More stubborn than the stone,
He carved a path through legion ranks
Where lesser men would groan."
Subaru scratched her cheek thoughtfully.
"So the hero had a dwarf buddy," she murmured. "Typical fantasy world party. All that's left is a mage and a saint,"
The bard continued with enthusiasm.
"A priest followed with steady hand,
Behind his silvered glass,
Blessed by the Megami herself
To let no evil pass."
Subaru leaned slightly against a nearby wall.
"His prayers were shields of golden light,
His words a healing balm,
Facing down the abyss itself
With holy, centered calm."
Now the priest sounded impressive. Then the bard sang the final verse.
"And then the mage with silver hair,
And eyes of forest green,
An elf who wove the ancient threads
Of magic yet unseen."
Subaru blinked. The bard kept going.
"The elements obeyed her call,
The stars fell at her feet,
Ensuring that the hero's quest
Would never know defeat."
Something shifted inside Subaru's mind.
The ground beneath her feet felt suddenly less stable. Not physically, mentally.
A memory surfaced. Wind rushing past her ears. Her body flying through the sky while panic screamed in her head. That red haired boy chasing her across trees and hills like an angry missile.
Subaru remembered desperately trying to escape. She had flown without wings. Pure levitation driven by fear. Below her the land had stretched in every direction.
Then she had seen something.
An elf. Silver hair moving like moonlight. Green eyes. Eyes that looked strangely empty. Around that elf stood dozens of skeletons. No. Not just skeletons. Headless skeletons.
They moved like a broken army while the elf stood in the middle casting spells that gently stopped them. Then that elf had attacked Subaru with a light beam and Subaru had died.
Subaru shook her head quickly. "No way," she whispered.
The bard finished his song and bowed. The crowd clapped.
Subaru stared at the statue again. The hero looked peaceful. The sword rested calmly against the stone ground. Everything about the statue suggested victory and friendship and happy endings.
Subaru remembered those green eyes again. Cold, focused and hollow.
She rubbed her temples. "Okay," she muttered. "That elf I saw probably wasn't the same one."
Right?
Right.
Before she could continue the argument with herself, an arm suddenly dropped over her shoulders. The motion felt casual and friendly. Also slightly invasive. Subaru turned her head slowly.
Übel grinned beside her. The girl had appeared from nowhere like a cat that enjoyed surprising people. "What are you doing here?" Übel asked.
Subaru sighed. "Exploring."
Übel leaned forward slightly and examined the statue. "Cool," she said.
Her eyes moved across the carved face of the hero. "You want to stay here for a few days?"
Subaru looked at the statue again. Then she remembered the silver haired elf fighting skeletons. Then she remembered those eyes.
Then she remembered that she herself was currently disguised with a turban while pretending not to be a demon.
A deep feeling of discomfort settled in her stomach.
"I feel like we should leave."
───✧───
Snow had fallen through the night and into the morning like the sky had developed a quiet habit of dropping white powder on the world below. By late morning the village sat wrapped in a soft blanket of it. Roofs wore thick caps of snow. Wooden fences had turned into white lines in the landscape. Smoke climbed lazily from chimneys and disappeared into the cold blue air.
At the entrance of the village stood a wide wooden gate reinforced with iron bands that had seen more winters than anyone could count. The gate remained open during daylight hours because very few travelers ever came this far. The road leading toward the settlement wound through harsh hills and frozen valleys that discouraged casual wandering.
Two guards stood near the gate, stamping their feet occasionally to keep their toes alive.
Between them stood the youngest leader the village had ever known.
She was small.
Ten years old.
She also happened to be the cheftess of the entire village.
Her boots sank a little into the snow as she talked with the guards. The girl wore a thick cloak lined with wool that made her look like a moving bundle of blankets. A staff hung from her belt even though it looked slightly too large for her. Her hair was tied into a messy braid that swung behind her whenever she moved.
The guards listened carefully while she spoke because even though she was small, she still held authority.
"This snowstorm slowed the eastern road again," she said while examining a small wooden board with notes scratched into it.
One guard scratched his beard.
"That road has been slow for fifty years," he replied.
"Yes," the girl said seriously, "but we should still keep track of it."
The second guard leaned on his spear. "No one uses that road."
"Someone might."
The guard considered this idea for a moment. "Why would they?"
The girl looked up at him with the calm patience of someone who had already accepted that adults were sometimes strange creatures.
"Because roads are meant to be used."
The guard nodded slowly. "That makes sense."
The girl sighed quietly.
She then turned and looked toward the distant mountains. Even from the village gate the dark shapes of the Schwer Mountain Range could be seen rising like frozen waves in the distance. Beyond them stretched the wild region known as Decle, where thick forests and rocky hills tangled together in a maze that travelers rarely escaped without getting lost at least once.
Which explained why their village received visitors about as often as someone accidentally discovered a hidden sock behind a wardrobe.
Not very often.
The settlement itself existed for a very specific purpose.
A purpose that most of the world had forgotten.
Centuries ago the village had been founded to guard a sacred cave located a short distance beyond the northern cliffs. Inside that cave rested the Megami's blessing.
The Hero's Sword.
At least that was the official story. The more complicated truth was known only to the guardians of this place.
The sword had never been claimed.
Eighty years earlier the famous hero Himmel had visited this village during his journey to defeat the Demon King. Word later spread across the entire continent that Himmel had pulled the sword from its resting place and carried it into battle.
Songs were written about it. Stories traveled from town to town. Children pretended to draw invisible swords from imaginary stones while shouting heroic lines.
The only problem with that story was that the sword had never moved from its cave. It still rested exactly where it had always rested. The world believed it had been taken. That belief had been carefully encouraged.
The young cheftess knew the full story because her grandmother had told it to her many times.
Her grandmother had been there when Himmel and his companions visited the village.
The woman had stood in the cave and watched the hero place his hands on the sword's handle. He pulled. Nothing happened.
Most people who tried to draw the sword reacted to failure with frustration or embarrassment. Himmel had simply smiled.
Then he turned to the grandmother and spoke with the calm confidence of someone who had already made a decision.
He told her to spread the word that the sword had been claimed.
At the time she had not fully understood why.
Six years later the news arrived that Himmel and his party had defeated the Demon King without the divine blade.
Only then did her grandmother realize what had truly happened.
The sword was not meant to judge strength. It existed to judge determination. Many travelers had come before Himmel hoping to claim it. When the sword refused them, they often abandoned their dreams of becoming heroes.
Himmel did not abandon anything. He left the cave without the sword and still marched toward the Demon King.
The young cheftess liked that story very much. It meant the sword had not chosen Himmel. Himmel had chosen himself.
She closed the wooden board and tucked it under her arm. "Well," she said to the guards, "everything looks normal today."
"That means nothing will happen," one guard said happily.
"Yes," the girl replied.
Then she turned to leave.
She had taken only three steps when something caught her eye. Movement. Far beyond the gate. The girl squinted toward the snowy hills.
Four figures walked down the slope slowly. At first they appeared as small shapes moving through the white landscape. Then the sunlight touched them.
Silver hair. A white coat. A golden staff crowned with a red gem. The cheftess froze. Her eyes widened until they looked like round coins. "It's Frieren-sama!"
The guards barely had time to react before the girl sprinted forward through the snow like a tiny storm.
She reached the travelers just as they approached the gate.
Without hesitation she threw her arms around the silver haired elf standing in front.
The elf blinked. Her expression carried mild surprise. Then she gently patted the girl's head.
"Frieren-sama!" the cheftess said loudly while squeezing the elf's waist. "You're late!"
Frieren looked down at the child. "Late?"
"You were supposed to come here thirty years ago!"
Frieren tilted her head slightly. "Oh."
She thought for a moment. "I'm sorry. I was busy."
The way she said it suggested that even she suspected the excuse sounded weak. The girl leaned back and crossed her arms. "Busy doing what?"
Frieren glanced toward the sky like someone searching for an answer written on a cloud. "Things."
The girl stared at her. "Important things?"
Frieren hesitated. "Some of them involved collecting spells."
"Uh huh."
"Some involved sleeping."
The girl narrowed her eyes. "Right."
Frieren shifted awkwardly. Behind her stood the rest of the group.
The young cheftess noticed them for the first time.
Her attention jumped from one person to another with open curiosity.
"Who are they?" she asked while pointing.
Frieren turned slightly. "They're my companions." She replied. "That's Sein, my apprentice Fern and Kraft."
Fern adjusted the strap of her bag while observing the village gate. Sein looked slightly tired. Kraft stood calmly behind them, his tall figure looking almost too large for the narrow road.
The girl walked closer to inspect them like someone examining a group of unusual birds.
Her gaze stopped on Fern. "You look serious."
Fern blinked.
"Thank you?"
The girl then examined Sein. "You look tired."
Sein nodded. "That is correct."
Finally her eyes moved to the green haired elf holding a red haired boy in her arms.
She pointed. "And who is he?"
Kraft looked down at the unconscious Stark. "He is Stark."
The girl stepped closer.
"Is he sleeping?"
"No."
"Is he pretending to sleep?"
"No."
"Is he dead?"
Sein immediately raised a hand. "No."
The girl crouched slightly and examined Stark's face with deep concentration. His breathing sounded uneven. His skin looked pale. The child stood up slowly. "…Is he sick?"
Kraft answered calmly. "We have come here to heal him."
The cheftess blinked. "Heal him…?"