Yunus glared daggers at the elf—no, the human—his teeth clenched in fury, hatred making them itch.
He wasn't stupid; he'd pieced together most of the story.
Why hadn't Azart returned? Likely because he encountered an unexpectedly tough opponent while carrying out his mission to slaughter the elf village, resulting in his entire force being wiped out.
Those men were beyond saving.
Now, this killer goddess stood before him, having slain hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the Demon Race army in a single move, and was now facing him and his personal guard. Yet, her fighting style was both deadly and frustratingly casual. These past few exchanges felt like she was simply using them as practice dummies for her apprentice.
Now, Yunus's last resort, his personal guard, was also annihilated. Though some vassal troops remained, how could mere cannon fodder count as real combat strength?
After years fighting on the front lines, this was the first time he'd faced such imminent danger.
The Demon Race army had been advancing triumphantly, so why this unforeseen obstacle? Was it Azart's fault for provoking the elf village prematurely, causing the entire front to collapse? No, the blame lay with Frieren.
At this moment, the silver-haired elf girl stood her ground, striking a heroic pose with her twin greatswords, radiating an unparalleled aura of power.
Meanwhile, Flamme, riding on her back, awkwardly raised her staff, concentrating a beam of light. Despite the clumsiness, no one dared underestimate a sneak attack during a battle with one of the strongest mages.
"Come on!" Yunus roared, charging forward. His greatsword unleashed a blade aura that spanned a hundred meters, yet Frieren easily leaped aside to dodge it. Simultaneously, the fully charged beam shot out, forcing even Yunus to block it. In just these few short rounds, the child's accuracy had improved drastically.
Suddenly, a figure pressed down from above.
The Sword Relic Greatsword crashed down, smashing a huge crater into the ground. At the last possible second, the demon warrior rolled away.
Immediately after, he saw Frieren's other hand conjure Glintstone Pebbles from her staff.
Another roll.
Once he created some distance, Frieren unleashed another Angelic Light Pillar. As her greatsword swung, pillars of light descended, while numerous Glintstone Pebbles rained down like meteors and a Glintblade Phalanx formed around her, creating an impenetrable defense that also suppressed him. It was complete overkill.
To onlookers, the figures of the two girls were almost swallowed by the sheer volume of magic erupting. Countless different spells bombarded the area, and it was impossible to estimate the colossal amount of mana being consumed.
Anyone could see she had the power to kill a high-ranking demon instantly, yet she was deliberately creating opportunities for her apprentice, turning the fight into a cat-and-mouse game.
How could a prestigious Divine Era Mage fight like this?
Because I feel like it, seemed to be the unspoken answer.
What incredible luck did Flamme have to find such a master? And perhaps one with the highest level of teaching ethics, no less.
Flamme only needed to cast magic whenever she could, while Yunus had far more to consider. He had to constantly dodge Frieren's bombardment. Every time he thought he was gaining speed, Frieren would inflict another wound to slow him down.
"You're too arrogant! Focusing on an apprentice during battle—she'll be your downfall!"
"Wrong. You can't conceive of protecting someone, so you can't imagine greater strength either. That's why you're so weak."
"Don't act so nonchalant!"
Yet, the demon couldn't refute the elf girl's words.
Frieren, actively protecting Flamme, displayed truly invincible power, likely ranking among the strongest in the world. To a race that revered strength, her actions were a testament to a truth they couldn't grasp—the power drawn from the drive to protect.
Witnessing the enemy's flustered rage, Flamme smiled smugly. The long-suppressed resentment vanished, replaced by the realization of the path she should follow.
That's right.
Become strong like Teacher, strong enough to protect whomever she wished. Strong enough to save the elf village and the dying little girl. So strong that even the arrogant Demon Race couldn't hope to shake her resolve.
"Your casting speed is too slow. You won't keep up during a pursuit later. Sync up with my mana flow."
Their mana resonated together, the smaller wisp merging seamlessly with the larger torrent, complementing each other. The surging killing intent intensified. The fierce beast protecting its cub would now unleash an even more terrifying assault.
Honestly, even the remaining vassal troops began to waver.
Anyone who saw the mana swirling around Frieren, enough to seemingly blanket an entire village, felt fear.
The Demon Lord they had witnessed possessed a similar level of power. Could this be an equally formidable existence? Or perhaps a more frightening thought: had another mage who lived through the Age of Myths, like Serie, appeared in the world? Just how many powerhouses were the elves hiding?
Recalling the legends surrounding powerful elf figures only added to their dread.
Yunus took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his scimitar, and commanded coldly, "No retreat! Today, we probe her abilities as much as possible—"
Swish!
Before he could finish, Frieren closed the distance.
The blade flashed too quickly. Even with his warrior's physique, he was half a beat too slow. He saw Frieren's katana flick his weapon away, the Glintblade Phalanx intercepting any ranged support, and then the Carian Piercer, conjured by her staff, stabbed through his abdomen, pinning him to the ground.
Me? A high-ranking demon, pinned to the ground? The thought had barely formed when a sharp kick to his back forced Yunus to double over.
"Damn you! Don't underestimate a warrior's resilience!"
With a roar, the man forced himself back up, blood pouring faster from his wound. He didn't care anymore. This was a fight for honor, to the bitter end. Let me show you my final strike!
His scimitar screamed as he unleashed a desperate, explosive blow, crashing against the surface of the Sword Relic Greatsword with a deafening clang. The force was so strong that Flamme, behind Frieren, couldn't help but cover her eyes as the shockwave threatened to throw her off.
Yunus put everything he had into the strike, even causing cracks to appear on his own weapon, yet he failed to move the silver-haired girl in the slightest. Her blocking strength was unfathomably deep.
"Are you really a warrior?"
"Just something I practice in my spare time."
Before the words faded, the Sword Relic Greatsword shattered the scimitar and slashed down onto Yunus's shoulder, sending a fountain of blood spraying into the air.
Finally, he slumped to one knee, head bowed, unable to face her imposing figure.
Frieren ruthlessly grabbed one of his horns, her grip too strong to break, while her other hand steadied her staff and unleashed lightning, instantly paralyzing the top-tier warrior.
"Kill him, Flamme. Aim carefully. You need to get used to the feeling of a powerful enemy dying at your hands."
Before Frieren finished speaking, a beam of mana pierced through the back of Yunus's skull. It was quick, clean, and decisive, leaving no room for doubt.
"—Teacher, I did it. Thank you."
"You did wonderfully."
The once-mighty demon warrior was executed in the most humiliating way possible, his corpse pinned under Frieren's foot and staff, killed by a young apprentice.
As Yunus turned to ash, the human defenders were still in shock, unable to believe the enemy commander had fallen so easily.
Without his unifying presence and authority, the morale of the surviving Demon Race troops utterly collapsed. They could fight when they had the advantage, but now it was about survival. Flee, quickly! Never engage this killer goddess again, or they would all perish.
After only a moment's hesitation, they turned tail and ran, never looking back.
These so-called vassal troops were a motley crew: some were marginalized demons from failed campaigns, others controlled monsters, and even humans willing to serve evil... expecting unity from them was wishful thinking.
They had only held off running until now out of greater fear of their commander's punishment.
And now?
The entire elite vanguard, decorated and encouraged by the Demon Lord himself, was wiped out. Their commanders were dead. Who was left to control them? They scattered.
Even though only a few hundred remained, their retreat kicked up dust like a massive army fleeing, creating an almost comical sight as they abandoned the Northwind Keep. They had arrived full of arrogance, now they fled in disgrace.
"Can't let these guys run off and cause more trouble," Frieren murmured.
Flamme quickly reminded her, "Teacher, do you have enough mana left?"
"Plenty. Also, remember the Soul Magic I mentioned before? Let me show you a basic attack: Homing Soul Crystal Mass."
Fwoosh!
Raising her staff high, Frieren unleashed crystal projectiles one after another. Once launched, they required no further guidance, automatically targeting the soul signatures of enemies, covering a vast area with sheer numbers. Luxurious, yet highly effective for someone with immense mana reserves.
The fleeing monsters were, without exception, overwhelmed.
Thundering explosions rendered flesh and bone indistinguishable. Even defensive barriers cast by mages were useless, as the crystal masses possessed significant physical weight, shattering defenses through brute force.
Trying to deceive them with illusions was pointless; the magic targeted soul signatures.
The aerial explosions blanketed the former demon encampment, blasting down flags, shredding tents, leaving behind a gory mess of shattered earth and mangled remains.
People now truly understood Frieren's magical style: overwhelming area-of-effect.
Forget precision or mass; only those lacking skill needed to calculate meticulously. A truly powerful mage should be a walking artillery platform, every shot capable of destroying a city gate, rendering careful consideration unnecessary.
The silver-haired girl raised her staff again, consecutively unleashing barrages of Glintstone Pebbles, Glintstone Arcs, and more.
Don't think you can adapt to my fighting rhythm, she seemed to say. An endless variety of spells is the best countermeasure. Overwhelm information gathering with information saturation.
She would definitely be on the Demon Race's kill-on-sight list now.
She would also be an enemy they would study relentlessly—and not just the demons. Anyone wary of her power would analyze her. Let them study, she thought. Perhaps they'll even discover something unexpected.
Flamme watched as their prey desperately tried various escape tactics, only to be obliterated by a single, seemingly casual spell from her teacher. Not even intact corpses remained, only cratered ground, testament to power that could easily demolish fortress walls.
Though it looked simple, the spell incorporated exceptional performance.
Meanwhile, Frieren didn't forget her teaching duties: "Flamme, there's a key principle to them..."
Normally, achieving high mass, high speed, and tracking capabilities would require three or more different spells, not to mention the effect of directly damaging the soul—just moments ago, a demon had been annihilated right through its armor. Was this truly just a basic attack of Soul Magic? How profound and powerful was this school of magic?
While Flamme pondered this, Frieren gently set her down. She then stowed her swords, gripped her staff with both hands, and pointed it towards the distant encampment.
Thunder of Ruin!
Finally, a spell appeared that had at least some record of existence, not completely unknown. But in Frieren's hands, it too displayed an exaggerated range.
BOOM!
Lightning struck from the heavens, obliterating the entire linked camp. Flames roared, consuming countless bodies, turning them into charred remnants. Against the backdrop of crimson soil and giant flowers, the scene resembled the apocalypse, created solely by her power.
Today, an elf mage had redefined people's understanding of the upper limits of magical destruction.
It brought to mind the ruined landscapes left behind from the Age of Myths. Perhaps those were the scars of war? Were mages back then all universally powerful, masters of both combat and magic, just like Frieren?
Frieren herself paid no mind to the stunned gazes, instead beginning to inspect the demons' belongings, openly looting the remains.
Waste not, want not.
Would such a powerful being truly care for these trinkets? Perhaps it was just a hobby.
At this time, the fortress gates opened wide. The commander and others who had escaped disaster looked timidly at the silver-haired girl, finding it hard to believe she had annihilated an entire army under everyone's watch.
Wayne, covered in dust, bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Excellency, for saving Northwind Keep. I am Commander Wayne, at your service. All the soldiers and citizens are grateful for your efforts."
"It's alright. It was on the way."
Meanwhile, Flamme began introductions, concisely stating her master's name and her status as a great elven mage, showing no stage fright, perfectly composed.
Hearing this, Commander Wayne felt his impression of her being a reclusive expert confirmed. Clearly, the Demon Race's atrocities were so heinous that they had provoked even a powerhouse hidden since the Age of Myths to intervene.
Frieren, who had initially intended to clarify, decided to simply accept the title of 'Divine Era Mage'.
Would explaining even help? Anyone witnessing that absurd amount of mana would acknowledge her thousand-year-level power. Whether it was true or not didn't matter; they had never seen anyone comparable.
Neither had she, for that matter.
The flattery wouldn't make Frieren underestimate the real world. There were too many conceptual or phenomenal magics with effects difficult to gauge. That's why she carried numerous damage-reduction talismans. If they weren't triggered, that was good news; tricky mechanics weren't common.
Or perhaps, no matter how good the mechanism, it couldn't overcome the weakness of a fragile body. Maybe among the many demons she had killed, some possessed unique abilities.
"Lady Frieren, we are willing to offer a substantial reward."
"Magic books are fine... No, add some money too. I have an apprentice now, after all. Flamme needs it."
"Even if you hadn't mentioned it, I would support her," Wayne quickly replied.
Setting aside her status as the chief disciple of a Divine Era Mage stepping back into the world—a clear successor—Flamme's performance assisting in the battle demonstrated her extraordinary potential. Not everyone could participate in top-tier combat without flinching, let alone strike with such speed, precision, and ruthlessness.
Most importantly, the red-haired girl now acted as an intermediary, introducing both sides.
The nobles trusted their own judgment, but they trusted Frieren's judgment even more. Thanks to Flamme acting as a communication channel, both parties quickly came to understand each other.
"Also, you don't need to worry about the battle scars I left behind. That corrosive energy won't spread, and it will dissipate soon. Only the color might remain for a long time..."
"Doesn't that just highlight your high magical skill?"
"Think whatever you like."
Realizing his earlier flattery was awkward, Wayne cleared his throat and spoke seriously, "Regardless, on behalf of the fortress, I thank you sincerely. I reiterate, please accept this insignia. It grants access to any place within the city and even allows you to command troops."
He solemnly handed a shield-shaped emblem to Frieren, who nodded in acceptance.
"With your power, you likely don't care, but we can offer some conveniences. We hope Northwind Keep feels like home to Your Excellency."
"Thank you, but I must excuse myself for a moment."
Exchanging pleasantries wasn't Frieren's style. She needed to collect samples of the Scarlet Rot mana before it completely faded.
____
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