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Chapter Text

(Frieren's POV)

While heading to the Fortified City of Heiß (/haɪ̯s/), Frieren's party stumbled upon a moss-covered temple atop a high cliff. The wind carried no scent, no warmth. The magic in the air feels wrong.

Stark felt uneasy. "This place creeps me out. It's too quiet," he muttered.

Fern narrowed her eyes. Stark wasn't wrong; this place didn’t feel right. "No birds. No insects. Even the mana feels... fractured. This temple has no life forms at all," Fern whispered.

"Hmm... I don't know about that," Frieren summoned her staff and aimed it above. "There's a demon here. We're being watched," at that, Fern also summoned her staff, trying to detect the demon. Stark grabbed the axe from his back, scanning their surroundings.

Before any of them could react, the air above them split open, a vertical rift opened mid-air, like torn cloth. A tall, pale, figure emerged. Frieren immediately raised her staff and casted Zoltraak at the demon, who repelled it with ease. 'A Powerful Demon huh..' Frieren mused.

"Which one of you is Frieren the Slayer?" The demon spoke as It landed on the ground. 

No one answered.

Fern gripped her staff tightly. 'This demon is here for Mistress Frieren...' she thought, her eyes locked on it.

The demon started to speak again. "Hmm... If I had to guess, I think it's you," the demon gestured at the silver-haired elf. "That was a powerful spell you casted. Qual's Zoltraak wasn't it?"

"That was just ordinary offensive magic. Anyone could do that," the silver elf said matter-of-factly. The demon narrowed Its eyes, as if realizing just how far behind It truly was.

"I don't care about that. Are you or are you not Frieren the Slayer?"

It took her silence as confirmation. A smile touched the demon's pale lips. "Good," it smirked, "I didn't travel across veils and dead realms for the wrong elf."

"Who are you?" The elf asked, her patience getting thinner. "The name's Körbchen (/ˈkœʁpçən/) the Veilpiercer, I traveled here from a different realm. Though, I originally belong here." It walked closer. "It took me years to locate this world, I haven't stepped foot here for centuries."

"..Körbchen the Veilpiercer," Frieren repeated. "You were affiliated with the demon king."

"Indeed I was, until you killed him." The demon added. "I am here to avenge him. And to put an end to your demon killing." It lifted one hand, "At least, here." And whispered an incantation. Valcruthen

The ground beneath them fractured into floating shards, realities shifting.

Stark charged forward, his axe glowing with mana, but each swing missed by inches. "You were brave once... in another version of yourself," the demon whispered. With a twist of its wrist, the demon caused Stark's footing to collapse, sending him tumbling into a phantom pit before Frieren pulled him back with a spell.

Fern casted multiple instances of Zoltraak simultaneously at the demon. The demon's form glitched, vanishing and reappearing behind her. "You are wise, yet not whole." It spoke as it reached to touch her, Frieren hurled a compressed sphere of binding magic. It struck the demon's arm, causing it to unravel in a swirl of black threads.

"You're not invincible. You just think you are." Frieren spat. Bleeding mist from its shoulder, the demon grinned. "Oh no, elf. I am quite mortal. But I’ve died in so many worlds that the afterlife stopped keeping track."

It uttered a final incantation.

Drelzaham

The air screamed. A rift exploded behind Frieren, sucking wind, light, and space toward it. "Mistress Frieren, move!" Fern yelled.

The runes screamed. A sigil unfolded beneath Frieren’s feet. She casted a spell to resist, but it folded, undone by laws not of this world. Frieren turns to counter-spell, but her eyes widen.

She sees something inside the rift. A boy with a checkered haori. A blade gleaming red. She hesitates.

And in that hesitation, the rift swallowed her.

(Frieren's POV)

 The rift closed with no sound, but the world yelled at her.

  Frieren was falling from the sky. Through mist, through air, she was falling. No staff in hand.

She didn't panic, she rarely did. Her robes flared in the rushing wind. She looked up, only to see nothing. No stars, no rift, no demon . Just an unfamiliar night sky in shade and smell.

She turned midair, eyes narrowing.

Below her; Lights. Too bright. A sea of paper lanterns, street signs alike. And people, so many people. Walking, talking, laughing, unaware of the anomaly hurtling toward them. "How inefficient. Reckless. He didn't even aim." She muttered flatly. She twisted her fingers mid-descent, chanting under her breath. Crovenhalt .

 A gust caught her like a breath exhaled from the world. 'So the magic from my world still works.' She thought. 'Well, good, it might come in handy.' She smiled at her own 'sarcasticness.' Her descent slowed, her feet touching down on the tiled roof below of a narrow tea shop.

The noise hit her first.

Clattering sandals. Laughter. Vendors shouting. Neon signs buzzed beside lanterns. People in modern and traditional wear mixed under electric lights and moon glow. Asakusa , alive and oblivious.

Frieren stepped forward onto the edge of the roof, scanning the streets. "So many humans. But not a trace of mana," She whispered to herself. "Yet, the smell of demons lingers. Their bloodlust is clear." Frieren practically hissed at that. "It disgusts me."

Wearing a cloak, Frieren stepped foot on the ground. 'It's obvious elves aren't a common species here.' She studied, '…Well, elves aren't really a common species in my world either, anyway.'

Frieren looked around, studying the area. 'I can't detect any mages here. Either this world has few, or none at all.' Frieren started to walk, searching for her staff. She didn't need it to cast magic, but it helped her concentrate, focus.

She noticed the smell, delicious smell of food. Desserts, etc. So many desserts.. and steaks..

' Focus. I have to find my staff.. it's lying around somewhere' Frieren reflected as she ate the last piece of her steak. "Hmm.. who knew even a single silver coin is worth so many steaks? I wonder what one Reich gold coin can buy me.." Frieren wondered before realizing she should get going. Just before she got up, she overheard a group of people having a conversation. 'They mentioned a demon.. '

"It's called the Demon Slayer corps." That made her ears perk up. 'Demon Slayers.. Interesting.' This world is definitely interesting. "They supposedly kill 'demons,' as if they exist! It's dumb." The man laughed, hard. 'They don't believe in demons huh.'

"It's said the Demon Slayer corps is deep within the mountains. My brother believes in that demons and slayers crap. He claimed to have been saved by a demon slayer, from a demon! What a big pile of-" By the time the man finished his sentence, Frieren already left. She heard everything she needed to. 'Time to start searching for my staff.'

'Enough wandering around. It's clear my staff isn't anywhere near here.' Frieren examines the surroundings and detects the demon that has been staring at her for the past hour.

Frieren let out a weary sigh, tired from not sleeping at all the other day. She smiled remembering how mad Fern was and how she scolded her when she found out. She arrived at the place where the demon was, 'A.. geisha theater. An abandoned one.'

Frieren spotted the demon, a female. A geisha, She guessed. "Come out, demon. I know where you are." Frieren could fight without her staff. Though it helps her concentrate and focus, it was only a refinement, not a requirement.

From the far end of the ruined theater, the demon emerged.

It stepped with grace, its sandals clacked on the cracked wood, sleeves trailing behind it. Its face was painted perfectly white, lips a soft red, and its black hair was tied in a style a century out of date. "I have a name," the demon said, its voice like a half-remembered melody. "It is Karei," it bowed slightly, poised, polite.

"I won't say it," Frieren replied. The demon's smile didn't falter. It stepped to the center of the stage and opened Its fan, tapping it gently against its chin. "You speak like the slayers. They come here too, you know. Swinging their swords. Never listening."

"Because demons never tell the truth."

The demon chuckled softly. "But I do. I always have. That was my tragedy, always telling the truth, even when it made me ugly." It closed the fan and pointed it toward Frieren. A faint shimmer pulsed through the air, the first note of illusion . "Let's see if you can fight without lies to anchor you."

Frieren took in the surroundings. "Illusion magic won't work on me," Frieren said calmly. "Oh I know, but this isn't magic. It's memory." With a sharp snap of the fan, the world bent. Frieren's surroundings shifted. Not physically, but perceptually. Suddenly, the stage was whole again, lights glowing, the audience silent in perfect black. Dozens of mirrors floated in the air like petals suspended on invisible strings.

"Do you see them?" The demon whispered. "These are the ones who forgot me. One by one. Each of them... let go of my name, as if I were a dream they woke from and never wished to return to.” 'This… can’t be right. Demons are born of mana and malice. They feed on suffering. They lie to survive.'

'This demon.. was once human?'

As the demon gazed at the audience, Frieren studied it.
'Fascinating… this demon’s mana signature is interwoven with what feels like lingering human emotion. It’s not pure malice the way most demons are; It's part-fiend, part-fragment of old memory.' Frieren pondered. 

She stepped forward. She stared into one of the mirrors, but saw not herself.
She saw Himmel, laughing, young again, seated in the front row. Her hand twitched.

The demon's smile widened. "We're not so different, you and I."

"No," Frieren whispered immediately, lowering her gaze. "You clung to your grief, I accepted mine." Frieren's hand slashed downward, not with her staff, but with a flat blade of light. The mirror shattered. All of them rippled. The spell broke in an instant, splintering the illusion. The demon lunged. Its silk ribbons lashed forward, cutting air, slicing through wood.

Frieren caught one with her bare hand, her palm glowing with a barrier rune. "You're fast," the demon breathed, startled. With a whispered spell, Frieren snapped the ribbon and threw the demon backward, its body crashing through the painted wall of the theater.

Frieren was done studying it, it was human. This demon had a human soul. “So you were once human. You chose to become this? Or were you too weak to resist?” Frieren coldly said.

"You really don't care who I was or what I used to be, do you?"
Frieren calmly stepped over the debris. “It doesn’t matter what you used to be. You’re a demon now… and demons bring only suffering.” Frieren stated flatly.

The demon laughed maniacally at that. "So they keep telling me that," it turned to Frieren, "I don't think turning into a demon is anything wrong! It helped me stay young, it helped me endure," the demon crazily said, "And most of all, it made me unforgettable. I carved myself into their memories, so they'd never forget me."

"Enough talking, I've already let myself be haunted enough for one lifetime." Frieren raised her hand, and casted Zoltraak.

The demon knelt among the rubble of the stage it once called home.

The illusion was gone, its silks hung torn. Its mirrored eyes flickered, cracked not by magic, but by despair. Blood dripped down its pale chin. Frieren stood in silence, a staff in front of her glowing faintly, her staff. "So it was here," Frieren said. The demon coughed, then laughed. The sound was weak, but still elegant. "It was a beautiful staff.."

It staggered to its feet. Its ribbons slithered around it like dying petals. Frieren narrowed her eyes, 'She's slowly regenerating. Even though I shot through her heart, she's not dying,' the demon's eyes held fast to the light blooming in the east.

"Dawn is near. The sun will rise, and it will kill me," the demon said weakly. Frieren stared at it, face unreadable. "I thought.. if I performed well enough.. Maybe someone will remember the real me." Frieren studied it with a sharp gaze, and finally said, "I’ll remember your name. That’s more than what demons deserve."

Karei gave a faint smile, "Good luck, elf of not this world."

"Let this.. be my last stage."

Dawn finally arrived, and the demon turned to dust. Frieren finally left the theater, unshaken, of course. But she wonders. She wonders if the remnants of humanity still lingered in those final moments. If, beneath the blood and power, there was still someone who once laughed, once feared, once loved.

The thought quickly left Frieren's mind, but it still lingers.

She looks around, there's a dessert shop that has opened.

"Well.. since I'm already here.."

"Might as well wander around." The elf grinned.

(Fern's POV)

The rift collapses.

“MISTRESS FRIEREN!” Fern cried

Stark grabs Fern before she’s pulled in, but it’s too late. The cliff returned to silence.

"Let her kill demons where they belong, in a world that makes her suffer for it.” Körbchen marveled. It vanished in a whisper, leaving behind the de vastation it caused.

Chapter Text

Just a lil update.. 

I was planning on how this fic will go and I'm pretty much stuck. 💔 but dw I'm not giving up on this crossover fic!! I'm gonna try to write a chapter now cus I've just been enjoying my break-

but now I'm back in school so uhh

I wrote the first chapter in like 10 days sooo expect a chapter in 8-15 days (not guaranteed though)!! Now that I'm in school again I might write more cause I have less free time and I'll get distracted less (if that makes sense) loll

(pls be patient I'm a pretty slow writer..)

Also I'll delete this after chapter 2!

Chapter Text

(Frieren's POV)

Frieren moved like a shadow beneath the early-morning bustle of Japan's countryside. Fields stretched endlessly in blue and green. The people here bowed politely, though she suspected it was out of habit rather than reverence.

No mana. No magical resonance in the land at all.. but something old lingers here.
She passed through villages where children flew paper kites and elders played slow games of Go. She decided to ask them about the demon slayer corps, she knows almost nothing about this world besides the demon stuff. She asked and listened to every villager she encountered. She listened, always listened. Stories from wandering travelers, myths whispered between sips of sake, rumors scrawled on scrolls and pinned to shrine walls.

"The Demon Slayer Corps? Doesn't exist."
"They wear black uniforms and disappear into mist."
"They come when the crows call them."

Crows. She began watching the skies.

Three days later, she arrived at a hamlet where houses were shuttered long before the sun touched the mountains. The old innkeeper eyed her from behind the door.
"You shouldn't travel these roads alone, miss," he said. "Especially at night. A girl vanished last night. They say, someone came and took her. Scraped up the walls. No footsteps on the ground."

"No one chased it?" Frieren asked, accepting the tea he offered.
"They're all too scared. The Demon Slayers don't come this far east." The man tapped the side of his head. "They say we're cursed. So we bury our dead fast and say nothing."
Frieren finished her tea, then stood. "I'll chase it," she said. He tried to protest. But the elf was already gone.

That night, beneath the harvest moon. She tracked the mana—faint, into the woods. The demon was clever, masking its aura in the stillness between trees.
But Frieren was older than the forests.
"Come out," she called calmly, and a gust followed her voice.
From the treetops dropped a long, tall demon. Its limbs had grown too long, its fingers webbed into claws. Its eyes, black pools, fixated on her like prey.

It leapt. She didn't flinch.

A single spell, a murmured incantation that shimmered like frost on glass, lashed out in a streak of white-blue fire. The demon was pinned midair, frozen in motion.
"A simple binding spell," Frieren started. "Even the lesser demons here regenerate fast. But they don't resist magic like the ones from my world."

'Demons here die from the sun,' Frieren noted as she remembered the demon she encountered. 'They burn from the sun, but how do the slayers kill them?' she questioned.
Not the heart. She tried that. Maybe the brain? The head?
The demon twitched, eyes burning. Struggling to escape the binding spell.
Frieren raised her staff, aiming at the head and with a whisper, Zoltraak. The creature started to disintegrate.

"Great, I learned two things since I've been here." She muttered as she watched the demon disappear. "One, demons die from the sun and by slicing their heads, I'm assuming. Two, getting back to my own world will be harder than I thought." She sighed.
'It's been a week since I've landed here, and I know next to nothing about this world.' She shook her head and remembered, 'That man would probably be relieved I come back unscathed.' At that, Frieren started to walk away as dawn rose.

She stepped foot to the old inn and saw the old man kneeling to a small religious statue, she assumed, and.. praying?
'Hmm.. Should I interrupt his prayer? He might get mad like Heiter does when I do..' She huffed and waited for him to finish.
Frieren startled the man. "I thought.." He stammered. "You're alive.." He really thought she'd died. She couldn't really blame the man, she is as tall as a twelve year old girl anyway.
"The demon's dead, you don't have to live in fear anymore." Frieren softly said.

The look on the man said he doubted Frieren, but as she stood there in the pale morning light, robes with no blood, no scratch nor smear upon her skin, the doubt began to drain from his eyes. No one returned whole from facing a demon. Not without scars.

Yet she stood as if she'd merely taken a walk beneath the moon. Her silver hair matched a moonlit night.

She knelt on the floor, meeting the elderly man eye-to-eye. 

"If you know anything about the demon slayer corps, let me know, anything will help,"  she carefully said,





...That's it.. (FOR NOW!!)