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Chapter Text

Arc 01

The Demon With Tears

Chapter 01

Promise Of A Lifetime

The woods were as Frieren remembered them — still, stubborn, almost arrogant in their refusal to change. Centuries had passed since she'd last walked beneath these same branches, yet the air smelled the same: damp earth, moss, and the faint sweetness of rotting leaves. She'd watched empires rise in splendor and collapse into dust; seen castles crumble into grassy hills and fishing villages swell into cities of marble. But some places… some places clung to themselves like a stubborn old man refusing to admit he's aged. The trees here didn't care about human history, didn't bow to the currents of time. They stood as they had for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, growing slow and quiet in a world that never stopped running.

Humans were different. Fragile, fleeting, always burning themselves up chasing something—glory, love, power, revenge. They fell, and they rose, and they fell again. But change, true change, always came. Even if it took a thousand years to arrive at your doorstep, it would still come knocking.

Her boots crunched against a bed of last year's leaves as she stepped into a small clearing. The oak tree stood there, impossibly wide, its roots coiling into the earth like the fingers of some ancient giant. It looked exactly the same as the last time she'd seen it — thick trunk weathered by storms, branches twisting toward the sky like they were reaching for something just out of reach. She stopped under its shade and, without ceremony, reached into her case.

The briefcase clicked open with the smooth, familiar sound of well-worn hinges. Inside was more than anyone could ever guess. Shelves of folded robes, spell components, books… and somewhere beneath all of it, a bottle of booze that had been traveling with her for longer than she cared to admit. She found it without looking.

The glass was cool against her fingers as she pulled it free, and she stood there for a moment, bottle in hand, scanning the clearing for a grave marker.

She wasn't here to mourn — not in the human sense. Death was nothing new to her. It had been part of her life since before most kingdoms had even been carved into the map. Friends, allies, even enemies, all came and went in what felt to her like days, weeks at most. Their lives were sparks in the dark: bright for a heartbeat, then gone. The grief had dulled centuries ago; what was left was… memory. And promises.

This was one of those promises.

But there was no marker. No weathered slab of stone, no wooden cross. Just the tree and the quiet. Her brow creased slightly. Surely they wouldn't have buried him without something to mark the spot. He'd been the Heiter — the greatest priest anyone had ever known. A man whose name would outlive entire kingdoms. Leaving him here, unmarked? That would be almost insulting.

She stepped closer to the tree, wondering if perhaps the marker had fallen, or been swallowed by moss. Or maybe she'd been wrong about the location.

She was crouching to set the bottle down when the sound came — soft, almost hesitant. Leaves shifting. Something moving through the underbrush.

It was small, whatever it was. The rhythm of its steps was light, quick. An animal, probably. A squirrel. Maybe a fox. Curious creatures always found their way toward strangers.

But then she felt it — that whisper in the air. That subtle ripple in the flow of mana.

Frieren straightened slowly, turning her head just enough to catch sight of movement behind her.

"Um, what are you doing here, miss?"

Not an animal.

A little girl stood there, half-hidden by the green tangle of ferns. Blonde hair fell in loose, uneven strands around her face, framing eyes so large and blue they almost seemed too big for her head. She wore a plain frock, the kind you'd see on a farmer's daughter, and in her hands was a wicker basket heavy with berries.

The expression on her face was… neutral. Neither warm nor wary. Just watching.

But the detail that mattered most wasn't her hair, or her eyes, or the berries. It was the small, curved horns that pushed through her hair. Not long — barely the length of Frieren's index finger — but unmistakable.

A demon.

"I was here to pour booze on my friend's grave," Frieren said, her tone flat, almost conversational.

The girl's head tilted slightly, curious. "Who is your friend, miss?"

"Heiter," she answered.

The girl blinked. "Um… Heiter-sama isn't dead."

The words hung there between them, absurd and impossible.

Frieren didn't flinch, didn't betray surprise. She'd killed enough demons to know better than to trust anything they said. And yet, she didn't draw her staff either. Not yet.

If this was a trap — and with demons, it always was — then somewhere nearby, others were waiting. Waiting for her to make the first move. The thought of Heiter's grave being tampered with gnawed at her. A human might burn with revenge over such a thing; for her, the feeling was different. Colder. Practical. Demons like this one didn't deserve to keep breathing. Killing them now would save countless lives in the years to come.

But if she killed this one here, without knowing where the others were, she might miss her chance to end them all.

So she let her expression soften just a fraction, tilting her head in mock curiosity. "I see," she said. "Can you take me to him?"

The girl's face brightened, if only a little. "Follow Naru, miss," she said, turning and walking deeper into the trees.

Naru. So that was her name.

Frieren fell into step behind her, silent, her eyes tracing the small swaying movement of the basket in the girl's hand. She kept her mana low, as if she were just another wandering traveler. But in her mind, she was already imagining the spell that would end this demon's life — and the lives of her companions — in a single heartbeat.

She would let Naru lead her. She would see where this trail ended. And when it did… she would make sure none of them walked away.

—oOVOo—

Frieren's pace matched the child's without effort, her presence folding into the woods like mist. She moved without snapping a twig, without disturbing a single fern frond, her every sense stretched wide to take in the terrain. To any normal traveler, this was just another pretty stretch of forest, but to her it was a living map—every curve of the path, every shadow cast by the canopy above, each sound and scent cataloged with the quiet precision of a hunter.

The underbrush here was thick in some places, deliberately thinned in others. The tree trunks bore no unnatural scars, no obvious warding sigils, but that only deepened her suspicion. A demon's stronghold was rarely marked by something as crude as a fence or a patrol. No—true predators worked in misdirection, painting safety over their snares.

The girl ahead, Naru, seemed unconcerned, bare feet padding soundlessly over the soil. Her little basket of berries swayed with each step, the gesture almost disarmingly mundane. Almost.

After what felt like a measured eternity of weaving through the woods, the path widened and bled into a small, hidden clearing.

It was… idyllic. A ribbon of water spilled down a moss-streaked cliff face, catching the light in flashes of silver before breaking into foam and vanishing into a quiet pool. The sound of it—constant, clean—cut through the hush of the forest, a strange and almost intrusive beauty.

At the clearing's heart stood a cottage. Rough timber walls, a pitched roof with just enough sag to suggest decades of use, a slow curl of chimney smoke winding into the air. There was a garden plot to one side, rows of vegetables so neatly kept that Frieren immediately distrusted them. A line of laundry fluttered between two trees: a white shirt, a pair of trousers, perfectly mundane in every detail.

It was too perfect. Every angle, every patch of earth, arranged with a storyteller's care. The kind of thing mortals put in picture books to comfort children before sleep. And that… was wrong.

Naru padded up to the door, turned the handle, and let herself in without a word. Frieren's hand twitched, and in the next breath her staff shimmered into being in her palm, summoned from nothingness with the ease of muscle memory. The mana around her flared, quiet but sharp, like a knife sliding free of its sheath. The rest of the demons had to be inside. She couldn't sense them—but that was nothing new.

Naru paused just inside the threshold, turning to look back at her. "You can come in, miss."

Frieren answered by raising her staff. Light coiled around its tip, condensed, then shot forward in a clean, unhesitating blast of mana aimed squarely at the child's chest.

The impact never came.

Instead, a faint ring of light shimmered into being in front of the girl—translucent, golden at the edges—absorbing the spell with a low hum before fading into nothing. Naru blinked, as if more surprised by Frieren's choice of greeting than by the attack itself.

Frieren's eyes narrowed. Divine magic? That was… not what she expected. A demon, deflecting her attack with magic designed for priests and saints. That should have been impossible.

"Now that's a dramatic entrance, old friend."

The voice pulled her attention from the girl to the doorway.

An old man stepped into view, framed by the warm shadow of the cottage. He was bent now, his shoulders rounded with age, the lines in his face deeper than she remembered. But the eyes—those clear, sharp eyes—were unmistakable.

"Heiter," she said, flatly.

"She—" she began, but he lifted a hand, the motion quiet but commanding.

"Now, now," he said, tone light, almost scolding. "You've come to see me after twenty years. Come in, Frieren."

She stood still, measuring him. The demon girl had moved, slipping closer to his side until she stood just behind him, her small hands clutching at the fabric of his robes. Her expression hadn't changed—still that unreadable, slightly vacant calm—but her eyes tracked Frieren with a predator's patience.

Why was there a demon standing under Heiter's protection?

Had she gotten to him? No—hypnosis and charms wouldn't work. Heiter was immune to such things. That left force. He was far from the man she'd fought beside in the Hero's party, and in his frailty, perhaps a demon could have cornered him. That was possible.

If that was the truth, then there was only one outcome here. Himmel would have freed him, without hesitation. So would she.

She stepped inside, her grip on the staff tightening, every muscle ready.

"Naru, can you make some tea for our guest?" Heiter asked, his voice warm, almost paternal. The girl nodded once and padded toward the kitchen without a word.

Frieren's eyes didn't leave her until she disappeared through the doorway. "Heiter," she said, her tone cutting through the air like glass, "why is there a demon with you?"

Heiter met her stare without flinching. "Isn't that the big question, Frieren? But let's talk about that later. Have some tea—"

"Heiter," she repeated, sharper now.

He sighed, the sound soft but heavy, as if this was a conversation he'd known was coming for years. "Well," he said finally, "it can't be helped, I guess."

—oOVOo—

It's been nearly three years, Frieren, since I first found her.

You remember how it was after the Demon King fell. We thought it would be the start of peace—that maybe the rivers of blood would slow, the fires would stop burning. But the attacks didn't fade completely. They became less frequent, yes, but quieter? No. When the demons struck now, they did it like cornered animals—vicious, without restraint. And there were always villages in need of healers afterward.

The clerics' order sent word they needed someone to oversee a group of rookies in the south, and for my sins, I accepted. The southern province… quiet country on the surface, but close enough to the frontier that trouble was always a few steps away. I stayed in a small village—simple folk, half their homes made of timber and clay. My days were spent tending to feverish children, setting bones, blessing fields when the farmers asked. It was honest work.

Then that night came.

It was late when I woke, not to the cock's crow or the wind, but to screams. Not the panicked yells of drunks in the street—real screams. Pain, terror, the kind that rips the sleep right out of you. And under it, the crackling roar of flames.

I pulled on my robes, grabbed my staff, and stepped outside into chaos. Houses were burning, the thatch roofs collapsing in showers of embers. Shadows moved against the firelight—demons, cutting people down without a thought. The smell… burnt wood and flesh.

I didn't think. I never do in those moments. The divine magic came as easily as breath. Arrows of light cut through the dark, slamming into the shapes moving in the streets. A few others—soldiers, some of my rookies—had rallied and were fighting back. In minutes, we began to turn the tide.

Once the worst of the fighting was handled, I moved to the survivors. Pulled the wounded from the streets, bound wounds, closed gashes. I left the younger healers to handle the easier injuries while I kept my focus on those fading fast. It wasn't long before the organized defense was back in place and the fires were being pushed down.

That's when I heard it—one voice, distinct from the rest. A scream, sharp and desperate, from somewhere past the square. I looked around. Every other soldier and medic was occupied—patching up burns, chasing down the last fleeing demons. No one was going to answer that scream but me.

So I went.

I followed the sound to the edge of the village, where one of the smaller cottages had half-collapsed. And there, in the firelight, I saw it—a demon, tall and thin, standing over an old woman pinned beneath her shattered door frame. She looked about my age, her hair white, her hands bloodied from trying to push the weight off herself.

The demon's back was to me. I didn't waste words. My staff glowed, and a divine arrow shot straight into its spine. The light burned it from the inside out before it even had a chance to turn.

I stepped forward, ready to pull the woman free—

—and that's when something hit me.

It wasn't enough to knock me over, but it was sudden enough to make me stumble. A blur, small, fast, and stubborn. I looked down, and there she was—blonde hair, blue eyes shining with tears. A demon child.

I've seen demon children before, Frieren. I've watched them wail and cry in perfect mimicry of human suffering, all to make you hesitate. I don't hesitate anymore. My first thought was to end it before she grew into something worse.

But before I could act, she stepped in front of the trapped woman, standing between us. Her face was unreadable, almost blank, but the tears in her eyes were fresh, real. I couldn't tell if she was trying to claim the woman as her prey or simply keep her for herself.

And then the woman spoke. "Please… spare her."

That stopped me for all of a second. The tone in her voice wasn't one of fear—it was pleading. I reached out with my senses, checking for illusions. Nothing. No manipulation, no mental tampering. Was she delirious from the pain? Hysterical? Perhaps.

Either way, my mind was made up. I'd seen too many die to the kindness they thought they saw in demons. This one would die before she got the chance to repay mercy with murder.

The girl must have felt my intent, because she shoved at me again, little hands pushing against my robes. Even old as I am, I was still much stronger than a child—especially a non-adult demon. I brushed her aside and loosed a small spell, one meant to be quick, clean, and final.

It should have been enough.

But the girl… she blinked, shook her head, and stepped forward again. No smoke, no burning, no dissolution into ash. My divine magic—light meant to scour evil from the world—had failed to kill her.

A child demon.

She didn't attack me in retaliation. Instead, she did something stranger. She crossed her index fingers, forming an awkward little gesture, and in a puff of smoke, a second version of her appeared at her side.

The duplicate didn't come for me—it ran to the woman and began tugging at the broken door frame, straining to free her. The original stayed where she was, blocking me, pushing weakly against my staff with both hands as if her tiny weight alone could hold me back.

It didn't make sense.

Why would a demon… help a human? I'd seen them play elaborate games before—pretend to save a hostage only to claim them later—but this felt wrong. There was no calculated grin, no cold glint in the eyes. Just a stubborn, desperate sort of determination.

If it was an act, it was perfect.

And that's when I thought about what Himmel would have done in that moment. He wouldn't have struck her down without knowing. He'd have asked, tested, given a chance—no matter how foolish it might seem.

So, Frieren… I stayed my hand.

I remember I had my staff leveled at her for a long moment, Frieren, just staring at the way she kept herself planted in front of that old woman like a guard dog. It made no sense. Demons don't protect humans unless they're baiting a trap, and even then they put on some smug little performance. This one was… blank. Not in the cold, empty way, but in the stubborn, I'm-not-budging way.

So I asked her, as plainly as I could: "Why are you helping a human?"

She blinked up at me, those ridiculous bright-blue eyes glassy with tears, and the only thing she said was, "'ttebayo."

I… still don't know what that means. Never heard it before, and I've heard a lot of strange words in my time. I figured maybe she wasn't old enough to speak properly yet, or maybe demons start off jabbering nonsense before their brains catch up. Either way, it wasn't an answer.

My focus shifted back to the woman trapped under the door frame. The sensible thing was to finish her quickly—she'd lost too much blood already. No one survives a wound like that, not with their torso split and their insides half-spilled into the dirt. So I turned my staff toward her, whispered the invocation under my breath.

That's when the girl's eyes went wide—huge and wild—and she lunged at me. No subtlety, no craft, just pure instinct. She made this low, broken sound—half growl, half shout—and started babbling more nonsense at the woman. I couldn't make sense of the words, but the tone… the tone sounded like Run. Like she was telling the woman to get away.

But the woman couldn't move. The gash across her torso was too deep, the blood loss too much. I could see her life bleeding out in the dirt, each heartbeat spilling more. Any other young demon I'd seen in my years—especially one so close to fresh human blood—would've been fighting me for it, savoring the scent like a starving wolf. But this one… she didn't even look tempted.

No demon can fake that much.

The woman's body sagged, breath rattling in her chest before she finally collapsed entirely. I lowered my staff slightly, watching as the girl released me without hesitation, darting to her side. She kept muttering that same strange word—'ttebayo, 'ttebayo—as she knelt, little hands working in a frenzy.

And then she did something that… well, Frieren, I'd never seen anything like it. She started trying to push the woman's intestines back inside, like a child trying to fix a broken doll. It was clumsy and useless, but the intent was… painfully clear. She was trying to save her.

The woman coughed, her voice barely a breath. "Please… spare her."

Then her eyes glazed over, her body going limp.

The girl froze for half a second, staring, and then she began trying to wake her. Not by shaking her like you'd expect—but by doing things that… well, Frieren, they made my heart twist in my chest. She patted her cheeks, smoothed her hair back, even forced her fingers against the woman's lips as if willing her to breathe again.

And then, as if in some desperate, hopeless last try, she sliced open her own wrist with one tiny handa nd held it over the wound, letting her blood drip into it. It was a pointless, almost ridiculous gesture. But she believed it might work.

And when it didn't, when the truth set in… she cried.

Not the sharp, overdone wail of a demon trying to lure in a rescuer. Not the cold rage of a predator denied its meal. Real, wet, trembling tears rolled down her face, and her small shoulders shook with the weight of it.

She was immune to my divine magic. She didn't try to feed on the dying. She risked herself—openly, stupidly—for a human. And she cried for her like a child cries for a mother.

In that moment, I knew… she was different.

—oOVOo—

Heiter leaned back in his chair, the warm glow from the lantern casting soft shadows across his weathered face. His tone was casual, but there was a weight behind his words, the kind that only comes from years of careful observation.

"Holy waters didn't hurt her. Divine tomes didn't burn her," he began, glancing at Frieren over the rim of his cup. "She's not inherently evil like all the other demons I've met. I've seen enough proof to stake my life on that."

Frieren sat across from him, chin resting in her hand, expression unreadable. Heiter continued, his voice steady.

"I took her with me. She's the first—and only—demon I've ever met who has empathy. I couldn't just let her die. People in the city wouldn't take kindly to seeing a demon walking beside me, so…" he gestured vaguely to the forest around them, "…I came here. Safer this way."

Frieren raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to go on.

"I named her Naru," he said with a faint smile. "Took some time, but after she saw me cast a little magic—just a simple light spell so I could read—she was fascinated. Like a curious little creature. Clung to me from that day on."

Frieren snorted softly. "Clung to you because she wants something."

"She doesn't attack me. Doesn't attack anyone. Eats like a human." Heiter shrugged. "Sure, she's stiff, face unreadable, awkward around strangers… but she's harmless."

"That's exactly how predators act before they strike." Frieren's eyes narrowed slightly. "This is an elaborate ploy, Heiter. She's toying with you. She's learning from you. Once she's learned enough, she'll kill you."

"Then how do you explain her immunity to divine books and holy water?" Heiter asked without missing a beat.

Frieren opened her mouth, but no words came out. She shut it again, lips pressing into a thin line. She had no answer.

Before either could speak again, the sound of careful footsteps approached. The demon girl—Naru—emerged from the shadows, carrying a small wooden tray with two cups. She placed them gently on the table, eyes darting between them as if gauging their reactions.

Heiter took his cup without hesitation and sipped. "It's not poisoned, Frieren," he said matter-of-factly.

Frieren frowned, eyeing the tea suspiciously. It looked normal—clear, lightly steaming, the faint scent of leaves in the air. She lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip—

—and immediately sprayed it in a fine mist across the table.

Naru froze mid-step, fidgeting with her hands. Frieren wiped her mouth, her expression twisting in disbelief. She slowly turned to stare at the girl. "It's salt," she said flatly. "Instead of sugar,"

Heiter, completely unfazed, chuckled. "Ah. Did I forget to tell you she confuses salt and sugar?"

Frieren's eyes flicked to his cup. "…You're drinking it."

"I'm used to it." He took another sip, as if nothing was wrong.

Frieren leaned back, exhaling sharply through her nose. "You're insane," she muttered, setting her cup far, far away from her.

Heiter just smiled faintly and glanced at Naru, who was watching them both with that same stiff, unreadable face. But he'd seen her eyes soften before. He knew.

And he was the only one who would.

—oOVOo—

The air inside the ancient stone church was thick with the dust of centuries, illuminated by the last golden rays of the afternoon sun slicing through a narrow window. Each particle of dust shimmered, dancing in the light like tiny, ephemeral spirits. The silence was heavy, the kind that came before a storm, or at the end of a long, tired argument. It was a standoff, not with swords, but with words—and maybe, with an old, unshakeable friendship.

Frieren stood in the middle of it all, her hands loosely holding her staff. A faint, cold hum of mana emanated from her, making the space around her feel slightly colder than the rest of the room. Her green eyes, which had witnessed empires rise and fall, were locked on Heiter. He was slouched in a worn wooden chair, looking more like a tired old man than the great hero he had once been.

"You and I, Heiter, we've been through a lot," she began, her voice steady and calm, yet sharp with a note of warning. "Ten years of walking, of fighting. We've seen every cursed battlefield and forgotten tomb worth seeing. We've killed more demons than you have prayers stored up in that old head of yours. We've even killed the small ones, the infants. Tiny little things that could barely hold a knife, because size doesn't change what they are. Innocence doesn't matter to them."

She let the silence hang for a moment, remembering the countless faces of her enemies. "It's funny, you know. They used to be so simple. Clever predators, that's all. They'd cry like a lost child in the woods, just a simple sound, waiting for some kind-hearted fool to come close so they could tear their throat out. That's all they knew. But time…" she paused, her gaze going distant, as if watching centuries rewind in her mind, "…time made them so much better at lying. More convincing. They changed their bodies to look like ours, their faces to be just like our own. Their voices? They can make them sound so warm, so trustworthy, even charming. And you know why? Not because they were becoming more human, but because it made the deception perfect. It made it impossible to tell the difference."

Frieren's staff tilted ever so slightly, pointing towards the blonde-haired girl sitting quietly in the corner of the room. "So forgive me for not being swayed by those big, round eyes and a harmless little expression. Just because she looks like that doesn't mean she won't put a knife in your throat while you're sleeping."

The girl, Naru, was sitting on the floor, a little braid of hair ribbon in her fingers. She hadn't been paying attention to the conversation, lost in her own small world of thought. But at the sound of her name, she looked up, her expression a mix of innocence and a strange, stubborn certainty. She spoke so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Naru won't hurt Heiter-sama, 'ttebayo," she said, her voice carrying that peculiar tick at the end that Frieren found so grating.

Frieren didn't even spare her a glance. Her eyes remained locked on Heiter, her gaze a silent question. "Why are you doing this? Why are you inviting the knife to your own throat?"

Heiter leaned back in his creaking wooden chair, his old bones protesting the movement with a soft groan. He didn't look scared. Instead, his face held that familiar, weary stubbornness that she had seen in so many human men near the end of their lives. "Because, Frieren, I'm old," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Old enough to know I'm living on borrowed time. We humans, we don't have the luxury of centuries. We don't get to watch the world change over and over until we become numb to it. If we're lucky, we see eighty years. A hundred, maybe, if God is in a good mood and decides to bless us."

He folded his hands in his lap, the movement slow and deliberate. "And I'll be honest with you—death scares me. It always has. But that doesn't matter here. What matters is that I won't just sit back and watch an innocent child be killed because she 'might' be a monster."

He pointed a shaky finger toward the girl, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, Frieren, if she's so dangerous, why hasn't she attacked me? Not once in three years. Why hasn't she so much as threatened another human? Why did she cry for that old woman—the one who was hiding her—as if she were her own blood? That's not a demon's instinct. That's empathy. That's love. And those, my dear friend," he said, his smirk widening just a fraction, "are things demons are just not capable of."

For a long, tense moment, Frieren just studied him. She knew that look on his face. She knew he wouldn't be swayed. There was no visible frustration, just the slow stillness of someone who knew the argument was over. Finally, she lowered her staff, the soft humming of mana around it fading away.

"If that's what you want, then I guess there's nothing else for me to do here, Heiter." Her voice had lost its biting edge, becoming flat and tired. She turned, her cloak swishing against the floor as she took a step toward the door. "Farewell, Heiter—"

She didn't get far. A small hand caught at her sleeve, the fabric bunched up in a stubborn fist. Frieren stopped, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she looked down at the little demon girl. She was looking up at her, a strange mixture of defiance and childlike innocence on her face.

"I'll give you two seconds to let go," Frieren said, her voice flat and cold as ice. "Or I'll blow your brain out the back of your skull."

Naru didn't flinch. Instead, she just tightened her grip on the fabric. "Heiter-sama will be sad if miss leaves him, 'ttebayo." she said, her little voice full of quiet certainty.

Frieren blinked, her expression unreadable. Then she looked past the girl at Heiter, who was still sitting in his chair, a look of infuriating smugness on his face. She let out a long, slow sigh. Without another word, she turned back inside, the girl's hand falling away from her sleeve.

The battle of wills, for now, was over. Heiter had won.

—oOVOo—

Dinner smelled deceptively homey. The kind of warmth that made you forget there was a supposed predator sitting at the same table. Naru, barefoot and with an apron tied clumsily over her dress, had made a stew. Frieren was surprised that it wasn't poison. It wasn't amazing, but it was edible, which in itself was suspicious. The steam curled up in lazy spirals, carrying the scent of simmered vegetables and wild game. When Heiter took his first spoonful, he let out a long, happy groan, as if he'd just been served the most divine meal.

Frieren sat stiffly at the table, spoon in hand, debating whether eating this was a betrayal of her own common sense. But Heiter had that gentle, grandfatherly smile—the one that told you he would notice if you didn't eat. While Frieren didn't care much about most people's feelings, Heiter was different. A friend, in the simplest sense of the word. Still, their centuries-long lifespan difference made the label feel like a fragile glass bauble. She felt like she could snap it without meaning to. So she ate. Slowly. Cautiously. Like someone expecting the stew to jump out of the bowl and strangle her.

Naru sat across from her, her posture impeccable for someone supposedly raised in demon ways, eating with small, neat bites. Too neat. Her eyes flicked to Frieren now and then, as if waiting for her to say something. When nothing came, the girl's attention shifted back to Heiter. She ladled another spoonful into his bowl with the easy familiarity of a granddaughter.

"Eat more, Heiter-sama," she said, smiling. "You're too skinny, 'ttebayo."

Heiter chuckled, taking the extra stew without complaint. "Ah, I'll start to believe you're just fattening me up."

When Frieren's own bowl was looking a little empty, Naru tilted her head toward her. "Miss, do you need more?"

Frieren's eyes didn't move from her bowl. "No." It was a single, clipped word. Uninterested. She didn't even offer the girl the politeness of eye contact.

Naru just blinked, then went back to eating as though nothing about the elf's iciness fazed her.

After dinner, the plates were cleared, the stewpot was covered, and the old priest shuffled to his chair by the hearth. The warmth there was different—smokier, more familiar—and Frieren found herself pulled into the orbit of old memories. She and Heiter talked, their voices dropping into that low, conspiratorial tone of people who had weathered storms together. She teased him about the time his robes caught on fire in a backwater chapel. He countered by reminding her of her spectacularly poor sense of direction in the Western marshes.

Naru sat nearby on a small wooden stool, her knees tucked up, hands folded neatly in her lap. She didn't say much—just listened, wide-eyed, as if every sentence they spoke was a precious piece of history. When Heiter laughed, she smiled. When Frieren's lips twitched upward at some old joke, Naru's head tilted, curious, like she'd just seen something rare.

Night settled heavy over the little house, bringing with it the faint scent of cooling embers and damp wood. Frieren didn't leave. She told herself it was only because she didn't want to argue with Heiter again. It wasn't because some part of her was curious about this strange arrangement he'd chosen to die in. Still, she stayed, lying on the narrow bed in the guest room, staring at the shadows crawling across the ceiling. She couldn't sleep. It was too quiet. Too aware. Her mind catalogued every creak in the old wood, every soft rustle beyond the door. When the latch shifted with a faint click, her eyes snapped open. The door pushed inward just enough to let in a sliver of lamplight.

Small footsteps. The faint sound of fabric brushing against the frame.

Was this it? Was the demon finally showing its teeth? Was she here to throttle her in her sleep? To press a blade to her throat and end centuries in a single moment? Frieren's hand twitched toward the magic she kept ready, her mana humming just beneath the skin.

The girl's silhouette appeared in the doorway, then stepped in fully. She was holding a cup in both hands, the steam curling toward her face. "Miss," Naru said softly, "Naru brought you milk."

Frieren propped herself on one elbow, her voice a flat blade in the dark. "You drink that and leave."

The girl blinked, as if she hadn't expected that answer. Then, without protest, she lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip, and swallowed. "Okay," she said simply.

She placed the now half-empty cup on the small table by the bed and padded out, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

Frieren stared at the cup for a long moment, her suspicion stubbornly refusing to fade. She lay back down, exhaling through her nose, but the silence pressed in again. Eventually, the weight of exhaustion pulled her under, and the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her was the faint, lingering warmth of milk in the air.

Morning sunlight seeped through the cracks of the old wooden shutters, painting thin gold lines across the living room floor. Frieren stepped in, expecting to see Heiter lounging in his favorite chair, mug in hand and that irritating, smug grin on his face. Instead, the room was empty. Silent, save for the faint clatter and rhythmic chopping sounds coming from the kitchen.

She wandered toward the doorway and found Naru standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up, moving with practiced ease as she diced vegetables. The steam from a simmering pot curled around her, carrying the scent of something earthy and comforting.

"Did you kill Heiter and eat him?" Frieren asked flatly.

Naru froze mid-chop, the knife hovering above the cutting board. Slowly, she turned, giving Frieren the most unreadable, glassy-eyed stare. "…Heiter-sama is in his room."

Frieren said nothing. She just pivoted and made her way down the short hall, pushing open the old wooden door.

Inside, Heiter was in bed, blankets pulled up, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a moment, she almost left without a word. Her hand was already on the door to close it when his voice, thin but still carrying that familiar warmth, called out.

"Frieren?"

She turned slightly. "Yes?"

"Take a seat, Frieren. I'm too weak and old to sit up myself."

She arched a brow. "You're only a hundred years old."

"I'm a human. That's like… what, five thousand years old in elf terms?"

"Four thousand," she corrected.

"Close enough." He shifted under the blankets, his smile tired but genuine. "What time is it?"

"Late morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"No."

"Breakfast?"

"No."

"Did Naru do the laundry?"

"…I didn't check," she replied, suspicion creeping into her tone.

"She did. Folded it, too," Heiter said, as if it were the most fascinating news in the world. "You should at least thank her."

Frieren stared at him wordlessly.

A small chuckle escaped him before his tone softened. "Tell me, Frieren… are you mad at me?"

"For what?"

"For adopting a demon."

She didn't even hesitate. "To be blunt, yes. If you want, I can kill her painlessly. Not that you'd allow it, I suppose."

His laugh was quiet, like the sigh of wind through autumn leaves. "You don't think she's unique?"

"I do. She may not be 'evil'—but demons have instincts to kill humans. It's not evil for them; it's simply nature. The way humans slaughter cows without thinking twice."

"But she's never harmed a soul for as long as I've known her."

"Could be an act."

"Could be real," he countered without missing a beat.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

"…Frieren?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm old. I'm already past the age most humans live."

"Yes. So?"

"I'll die soon."

She didn't respond, her gaze unreadable.

"The world is unkind to those who aren't familiar with it. And when I'm gone… I'm afraid of what will happen to Naru."

"I'll kill her as soon as you die."

"…That's too cold."

"I'm being frank."

He looked at her steadily. "Frieren, can you keep a promise?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What's the promise?"

"Can you take Naru under your wing?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll give you a grimoire."

"Not worth it."

"It's my final wish, dear friend."

Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment. "…I'll consider it."

—oOVOo—

The girl moved with the efficiency of someone who had never been taught to waste time. From the moment Frieren saw her step out of Heiter's home with her staff, she was in a quiet rhythm. She swept the porch, rinsed clothes, and hung them with clothespins that clicked softly in the morning breeze. The demon's face betrayed nothing—no joy, no boredom—just an unshakable calm as she prepared food. She chopped vegetables, stirred a pot, and set a neat plate aside for Heiter. After washing the knife and setting it to dry, she slipped on her shoes, as if checking off an invisible list.

Frieren followed from a distance, her movements barely a flicker of mana. Her footsteps were soundless. The demon walked into the forest, a basket swinging lightly in her grip. She didn't hum a tune or look over her shoulder. She just pressed forward. A crow flew overhead, cawing loudly, but the demon ignored it.

After a while, she stopped.

Frieren narrowed her eyes, trying to predict what she would do. Was she scouting for prey? Marking her territory? The demon suddenly crouched, then sprang upward in a surprisingly clumsy leap. Her hands scrabbled against a tree trunk until she found her balance on a low branch. Her tailcoat snagged briefly on the bark. She reached forward with delicate fingers and plucked a struggling butterfly from a cobweb. A quick flick of her wrist, and the insect was free, fluttering weakly into the air.

Frieren blinked.

"…Huh."

The demon hopped down—less gracefully than she had climbed up—and brushed her hands together. She carried on without looking back.

Further into the woods, she picked ripe fruit from the low branches of wild trees, testing each one with a faint squeeze before adding it to her basket. No waste, no overpicking. Frieren noted it absently. Most demons didn't bother with such care. They'd strip a branch bare.

Eventually, the trees thinned, and the demon walked toward a sheer cliff that overlooked the valley. She sat at the edge, her legs swinging, her eyes half-lidded against the afternoon sun. She took out a fruit and began to eat it slowly, chewing with quiet deliberation, as if she were savoring the moment rather than the taste.

When she was finished, she set the basket aside, picked up her staff, and stood. Frieren's gaze sharpened.

The demon planted her feet firmly, raised the staff in both hands, and muttered an incantation. The mana gathered sluggishly and unevenly, releasing in a jagged burst toward a rock formation on the opposite cliff. It fizzled out halfway across the gap, sparks scattering uselessly in the air.

Frieren exhaled slowly. That was… generous to call mediocre. The stance was too rigid. She was overchanneling at the beginning, then undercutting it mid-release. Her breathing was uneven. Her staff grip was correct, at least, but the mana flow was like trying to force water through a cracked pipe.

The demon frowned faintly but didn't stop. Again, she gathered mana—still too much, too fast, still losing control before the release—and sent it hissing toward the target. It fell short again, barely reaching the halfway point.

She adjusted her feet and muttered another spell. It was a little better, but still wrong.

Frieren crossed her arms, leaning against a tree trunk. Any apprentice of hers would have been drilled into fixing that mistake within an hour. The demon's magic lacked discipline. No, it lacked a foundation. Her instincts were good enough to compensate for minor errors, but without structured training, she would plateau here forever.

And yet… she didn't quit.

Again and again, the demon tried. Sometimes the spell sputtered immediately. Other times, it almost reached the other cliff before dispersing. She didn't groan or curse. She didn't look frustrated. She just kept trying, over and over, as if the idea of stopping had never occurred to her.

Frieren remained in the shade, silent, watching her go through the motions for what must have been an hour. It was nothing special. No sudden burst of genius, no raw display of hidden monstrous talent. Just a demon girl stubbornly firing underwhelming blasts at an indifferent rock.

But she didn't stop.

Frieren stepped out from the shade, her boots crunching lightly against the dry grass. The girl's head turned toward her instantly, her eyes wide but not startled—it was as if she had been expecting Frieren all along.

"Why were you trying to learn magic?" Frieren asked plainly, her tone as flat as the morning air.

Naru blinked at her, her staff still in her hand. "It's beautiful," she said simply.

"Just that?"

"…Yes."

"I see." Frieren's gaze flicked briefly to the cloud shaped like a rabbit, drifting slowly above them. "What if I told you that if you killed that rabbit, I'd teach you a spell?"

Naru stiffened, as if Frieren had just suggested something her soul didn't know how to process. "Naru would never hurt a bunny, 'ttebayo."

"It's a rabbit. You eat rabbits for dinner."

Naru's mouth opened, but nothing came out for a long moment. "…Naru wouldn't kill a bunny without a reason."

Frieren hummed faintly. "Hmm. Tell me, demon, Heiter is old. He will die soon. What will you do then?"

She already had her own answer in her head. Naru would probably go out and kill people, or trap fools, like any other demon.

But Naru just said, without a moment of hesitation, "Naru will stay here by Heiter-sama's side."

Frieren stared at her for a moment. "He'll be buried. Dead people don't talk."

"Naru will stay here by Heiter-sama's side," she repeated, her voice steady as stone.

"…For a demon, you are incredibly dense, you know that?"

"Naru is not dumb, 'ttebayo."

"Keep telling yourself that," Frieren muttered, looking away. Silence draped over them for a few moments, filled only by the sound of distant birds. Then, casually, almost like she was testing the weight of the words, she said, "What if I told you that if you broke your tiny horns, I'd save Heiter with magic? What would you do?"

Naru's breath hitched slightly. "…Can that really work?"

"Yes, sure." Frieren's voice didn't waver, though the answer had been delivered as one might casually mention the weather.

The girl didn't hesitate. She placed her staff carefully on the ground and began walking toward Frieren.

Frieren's eyes followed her, unblinking. She expected reluctance, bargaining, maybe some overly sentimental speech—but the demon just kept moving, her expression unreadable. She stopped just in front of Frieren, then bent down.

And picked up a stone.

Before Frieren could ask, Naru lifted the stone and slammed it against her own head.

The sound was dull and sickening. A thin line of blood welled instantly along her hairline and began crawling down her face. She hit herself again. And again.

Frieren didn't move at first. She just watched as the red streaks darkened the strands of Naru's hair, as they trickled down and stained the collar of her pale frock.

It wasn't that she didn't expect demons to endure pain. It was the sincerity of it. No theatrics, no feigned hesitation. Just, "If it saves Heiter, Naru will do it."

The staff lay forgotten in the grass as the blood soaked into the fabric, dripping in small spots onto her hands.

And then Frieren realized she was already moving.

Her hand shot out, catching the girl's wrist mid-swing. The stone was still clutched tightly in her hand.

Naru looked up at her, her expression calm despite the blood streaking her cheeks. "Naru has not broken her horns yet. Please let her break them, miss."

Frieren held her there for a moment, staring into those stubborn eyes. Something in her chest felt heavier than it should.

"I'm sorry," Frieren said quietly.

"…For what?" Naru asked, tilting her head, the blood still dripping but her gaze unwavering.

Chapter Text

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Arc 01

The Demon With Tears

Chapter 02:

The Elf's Demon Apprentice

M

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Heiter's voice rang through the small house, sharp and disappointed, like a father scolding a wayward child. Frieren sat there, stiff as a board, her hands folded neatly in her lap, taking it all without a word. The stoic elven mage—over a thousand years old—looked for all the world like a guilty little kid who had been caught stealing bread. Her gaze was downcast, her mouth a thin line, and she didn't even attempt to defend herself.

Across the room, Naru sat on the floor, her hands neatly folded over her knees. Her small frame was still, her blank blue eyes watching the scene unfold. With her golden hair catching the glow of the fire and those blue irises staring softly, she could have been mistaken for any ordinary human child. The only betraying feature was the tiny pair of curved horns peeking faintly through her hair, like some stubborn truth she couldn't hide.

"Frieren," Heiter's voice softened only slightly. "I don't care what you think about demons. I don't care what long-forgotten books or ancient prejudices say. You hurt her." He gave her that disappointed-parent look—the one that cuts deeper than shouting.

Frieren pressed her lips tighter, as if the weight of those words was pushing them closed.

"And yet," Heiter exhaled, a faint smile breaking his own severity, "I'm glad. Glad that you finally agreed to take her under your wing."

Frieren glanced up at him, irritation ghosting over her features. "She has no talent for magic. None whatsoever."

Naru blinked slowly, and though her face stayed mostly expressionless, her shoulders sank a little.

Frieren noticed. She sighed and added, almost grudgingly, "But… if she works hard enough, she can be good."

The little demon's eyes softened—barely—but she said nothing.

Dinner that night was simple but warm. Heiter had roasted some vegetables in a clay oven, the earthy smell mixing with the buttery steam from mashed potatoes. A rabbit stew bubbled on the stove, rich with herbs and a faint peppery bite. Naru served without being asked, her small hands careful with each bowl, though she moved almost mechanically. Frieren ate in her usual quiet way, but she caught the way Heiter hummed softly between bites, the way the stew's warmth lingered in her chest longer than she wanted to admit. The crackle of the fire made the little home feel less like a temporary stop and more like… well, something else.

Later, when the dishes were cleaned and Naru had gone to her own room, Heiter called Frieren into his library. The room was lined wall to wall with books, some neatly stacked, others threatening to topple under the weight of centuries. Candles flickered on the desk where he sat, flipping slowly through a worn volume.

"I want you to look for something for me," he said, not glancing up. "A key to immortality."

Frieren's brows furrowed. "Why the sudden interest?"

Heiter closed the book and leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of weariness and calm faith. "Because I'm dying, Frieren. I can feel it. And I'm afraid. But…" he smiled faintly, "at least God loves me."

The candlelight caught the lines in his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes. Frieren didn't answer.

When she finally excused herself, the house was quiet. She walked to her room with slow, measured steps. The bed felt too soft tonight. She lay down anyway, closing her eyes, but the image of a small, golden-haired demon with blood dripping down her face kept flashing behind her eyelids.

Sleep came late.

—oOVOo—

The days had turned quiet, marked only by the faint rustling of wind outside and the muffled coughs from Heiter's room. A week had passed, and his strength had dwindled so much that getting out of bed seemed like an impossible feat. The sun would rise, spill golden light through the curtains, and he'd still be there—frail, pale, yet with that same stubborn spark in his eyes whenever he spoke. Frieren spent hours beside him, sometimes in conversation, sometimes just in shared silence. He loved to reminisce, as if clinging to memories could hold back the inevitability creeping toward him.

He told her about battles fought, the laughter of friends long gone, and—more recently—about Naru. There was something tender in the way his voice softened when speaking of the blonde-haired demon girl. "She likes magic," he murmured, his voice hoarse yet warm. "And she works hard, sometimes too hard for her own good. Doesn't like hurting anyone… anything. I suppose for a demon, that's remarkable." He chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a cough. Frieren handed him a cup of water, watching his trembling hands.

"Favorite food?" she asked, mostly to keep him talking.

He smiled faintly. "Something strange… she calls it 'ramen.' Always tries to make it, but—" his smile grew, "—it never quite turns out right. Still, she insists it's good."

That evening, as the last traces of daylight bled away into twilight, Heiter's gaze turned distant. "She'll live a long life, you know. Longer than most people you’ll see, even. She's a demon." His eyes shifted to Frieren, serious now. "Can you… help her understand humans? So she won't be alone in that long life?"

Frieren tilted her head slightly. "I don't understand humans very well myself."

Heiter's chuckle was quiet, almost tired. "Then maybe it'll be a journey together for you both. She's stubborn… a bit of a knucklehead. But I think you two will get along."

Night descended, bringing with it a hush that wrapped around the small home. In his room, Heiter lay with his breathing slow and uneven. Naru sat beside him, her posture straight, her expression still blank, though her hands worked steadily at massaging his legs, careful and gentle. She said nothing for a long while, simply listening as he spoke. His voice was thin but carried weight as he gave her small pieces of advice, warnings about the outside world, and truths about other demons who weren't like her—demons who were cruel, cunning, and far less hesitant to spill blood. He also spoke of humans, of their kindness and cruelty both, of the need to see beyond one's own world.

Naru's hands paused. "Are you dying?" she asked bluntly, her voice quiet but clear.

There was no hesitation in his answer. "…Yes."

She looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable, and then said simply, "Don't die, 'ttebayo."

His lips curled into a sad smile. "I'm afraid that's not how it works."

For the first time that night, she moved closer, shifting onto the bed. She lay down at his side, her small frame fitting easily next to his frail body. Without another word, she reached out and took his hand in hers, her grip warm and firm, as if she could hold him there by will alone.

He didn't speak again after that. Neither did she. The room was quiet but for the soft creak of the bed as they settled, and the faint, steady sound of their breathing.

—oOVOo—

The morning sunlight was pale and cold when Heiter's breathing finally stilled. There were no last dramatic words, no grand gestures—just the slow, inevitable fading of life until there was only silence. Naru's small hands clutched his robe even after the warmth had left him. Her blank, porcelain face didn't change, but her grip was fierce, as though if she just held on hard enough, he might open his eyes again.

In her own stubborn way, she tried to bring him back, pressing her palms to his chest and mimicking the healing gestures she'd seen him use on the sick and injured. Her movements were clumsy, desperate, her staff forgotten against the wall. "Wake up, Heiter-sama," she muttered under her breath, her voice hoarse even though her expression stayed the same. "You're late for breakfast."

Frieren watched from the doorway, her arms crossed. She wasn't the kind to be easily moved by death. Over centuries, she had buried countless faces and seen countless goodbyes. But this… this stubborn little demon girl who didn't even understand how final death was… there was something in it that pressed against the old, guarded corners of Frieren's heart.

When Naru wouldn't stop, Frieren had no choice but to step forward. "Enough," she said, her voice low. With a flick of her fingers and a soft hum of mana, Naru was pulled back by an invisible force, her small body hitting the tatami with a muted thud. The girl didn't even resist. She just reached out toward him again, her fingers grasping at empty air.

The burial was simple. There was no audience, no priestly choir, no flowers. Only the two of them, and the wind whispering through the grass. Frieren dug the grave herself, each spade of earth dark and heavy. Naru didn't help—she stood behind a nearby tree, staring. Frieren didn't need to see her face to know she was crying. Demons were hard to read, but the way her shoulders trembled and her fingers twisted into the hem of her dress was enough.

When the hole was ready, Frieren laid Heiter's body inside with the same care she might handle a priceless relic. Naru stepped forward, slow and hesitant. "…Will I ever meet him again?"

Frieren looked down at the still face of the man who had once been a hero, then at the demon child standing beside her. "I don't know," she admitted.

That seemed to be the end of it. No more questions. No more pleas. Just silence.

Frieren reached into her coat and pulled out a flask, uncapping it in one smooth motion. "He made me promise," she said, before tilting it and pouring the amber liquid over the fresh earth. The smell of strong booze rose into the morning air, sharp and bitter.

Naru didn't leave the grave. She sat cross-legged at its edge, her staff resting on her knees, and began talking in a soft, steady stream. Not to Frieren, but to the grave itself. She told Heiter about her morning, about the stew she had burned last week, about the squirrel she saw in the trees. She spoke without pause, her voice even, her expression unchanging.

That first day passed, then the second. Naru didn't move to eat, didn't move to sleep. Demons didn't tire the way humans did, but even so, the stubbornness was impressive. It wasn't grief the way humans showed it, but Frieren recognized it for what it was.

By the end of the second night, Frieren's patience had worn down. She stepped out into the moonlight, looking at the small figure still sitting there. "Enough," she said again, though her voice was softer this time.

When Naru didn't move, Frieren strode forward, reached down, and simply hooked her arms under the girl's and pulled her up. Naru didn't resist, but she twisted her head to keep looking back at the grave until the door of the house shut behind them.

Frieren set her down inside. "He's gone," she said, not cruelly, but firmly.

Naru just sat there, her hands folded in her lap. "…Naru knows," she said finally, though her tone was as flat as ever.

Frieren studied her for a long moment, then turned away, her own expression unreadable. The house was too quiet without Heiter's voice in it.

—oOVOo—

A month had passed since Heiter's death, and the house had settled into a strange, almost too-quiet rhythm. Frieren had somehow—whether through persistent correction or sheer elven patience—managed to get the demon girl to start calling her "Frieren-sama" instead of "Miss."

It didn't make the place any livelier. If anything, it made conversations more peculiar. Naru spoke so little and always in the third person that the house sometimes felt like a library whose only librarian was mildly confused about human speech. Most days, Naru would be in the kitchen—blank-faced as she stirred a pot, her blonde hair tied into two short ponytails with orange ribbons that bobbed faintly with each movement. The faint scent of broth would mix with the smell of old wood, drifting through the narrow halls. Her tall wooden staff, worn and a little too big for her hands, leaned against the wall nearby.

Frieren was sitting at the table, chin in hand, watching the steam curl lazily toward the rafters when she finally spoke. "We need to leave."

Naru's stirring slowed, the wooden spoon pausing mid-circle. Her bright blue eyes shifted toward Frieren. "Naru is not leaving Heiter-sama, 'ttebayo."

"We can visit him every few decades," Frieren replied calmly. "It's a long time to most, but it's just a blink of an eye to a demon."

"That's too long," Naru said flatly, turning back to the pot. "Naru is not leaving."

Frieren's gaze softened in that subtle way only someone who had known centuries of loss could manage. "Heiter would have wanted you to see the world. You have hundreds of years ahead of you, and you're spending them here. He'd call that a waste."

Naru's eyes flickered for a moment. They were still mostly blank, but something faintly troubled was in them. "Naru promised to stay," she murmured, the spoon tapping lightly against the pot's rim. "Heiter-sama would be sad if Naru broke her promise."

Frieren sighed. "You've kept that promise. You stayed here for him. But staying forever… that's not what he meant. He wanted you to live. You can't understand the world by hiding from it."

There was a long pause. The bubbling of the pot filled the room, the only sound for a full minute. Naru's shoulders slumped, her resistance slowly fading. Finally, she nodded, a slow and reluctant gesture, the orange ribbons swaying with the movement. "...Ok. Naru will go." She turned toward Frieren, her expression unchanged, but her tone had softened. "But Frieren-sama must lock the house and the area so no one disturbs Heiter-sama."

Frieren raised a brow. "You mean a magical barrier?"

"Yes," Naru said, clutching her staff as if the thought of protection steadied her. "Make it so only Naru or Frieren-sama can come here, 'ttebayo."

Frieren's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but close. "...Fine. I'll make a barrier that no human can break. A barrier that will last a thousand years. But only if you promise to not make a fuss on the way."

—oOVOo—

The kitchen smelled faintly of broth as Naru set the pot aside, washed her hands in the basin, and went to the other room without another word. She began packing with her usual blank, methodical manner. She pulled drawers open, took out small objects wrapped in cloth, and carefully set them into a sturdy leather satchel. A silver mug with a dent in the rim. A faded scarf that still carried Heiter's faint cologne. An old chess set with one missing pawn. Every item felt like a piece of the air in this house, and Naru wasn't leaving a single one behind.

Her staff clunked lightly against the floor as she moved from shelf to shelf, her horns glinting faintly in the lamplight. She tied the satchel closed, then added another smaller bag over her shoulder, stuffed with letters and a few worn books.

Frieren watched from the doorway, silent.

When the bags were ready, Naru walked to the room where Heiter rested. She stopped just short of the bed, her blue eyes on his still figure. Her face stayed blank, but her voice—soft and almost hesitant—broke the quiet.

"Naru is going now, Heiter-sama. Naru… will see the world, dattebayo. But Naru will come back. Every time."

She lingered a moment longer, one hand gripping her staff, before turning away.

Outside, Frieren began tracing runes into the air, each line glowing faintly gold before sinking into the ground. The magic spread outward, slow and deliberate, as if weaving an invisible dome over the house and surrounding land.

"Like this?" Frieren asked, glancing back.

Naru nodded, then raised her staff, mimicking the motion. A flicker of light burst from the tip—only to sputter into a pathetic spark. Her blank face didn't change, but she summoned two copies of herself without warning. The other Narus—identical down to the orange ribbons—began poking the air where Frieren's magic had passed, one of them tapping experimentally with her staff as if knocking on glass.

Frieren sighed. "You're not helping."

"Naru is testing the barrier, dattebayo," all three replied in perfect unison, though one was upside down on her staff for reasons unknown.

By the time Frieren finished the incantation, the runes had fully sunk into the soil, sealing the place with a protective pulse that made the air hum faintly. Naru dismissed her copies, tightened her satchel straps, and stood by the gate.

"Now no one will disturb Heiter-sama," she said simply.

Frieren gave a small nod. "No one."

—oOVOo—

The Turk Region's forest floor was a soft carpet of moss and damp leaves, the air rich with the scent of pine and earth. Sunlight broke through in scattered patches, dappling Frieren's white cloak and catching in Naru's orange ribbons as they walked. The girl trailed just behind, a tall staff in her hand, her steps light but deliberate—her horns glinting whenever a beam of light found them.

Frieren had been quiet for most of the journey, her mind turning over the same thought. She had taught humans magic countless times, but demons? Normally, she wouldn't have entertained the idea at all. Yet when she looked at Naru—this blank-faced, slightly clumsy little demon who spoke in the third person and sometimes ended her sentences with "dattebayo"—she found herself wanting to give her something meaningful. A first spell worth remembering. Something she could carry with her for centuries.

They came upon the hut unexpectedly, its walls weathered and its roof sagging just slightly, surrounded by neat rows of vegetables. An old woman in a faded dress was bent over a watering can, coaxing green shoots to life. When she looked up and saw them, she smiled.

"Ah, travelers. Rare to see people here."

"We're… kind of lost," Frieren said, stepping forward with her usual calm tone. "And we need shelter for the night."

"Of course, you can stay at—"

The woman's words died in her throat as her gaze slid past Frieren and landed on Naru. Her smile froze. Her eyes widened. And then—

"D-demon—!"

Naru blinked, cocking her head to the right, the ribbons on her short ponytails swaying. "What are you doing, miss?" she asked in her mild, almost monotone voice.

To Frieren, the sight was almost unbearably cute. To the old woman, it was like staring down a wolf mid-lunge. She stumbled back, the watering can tumbling from her hands, and landed hard on her backside in the dirt.

"Ah—wait—" Frieren started, but Naru, being the polite sort despite her blank expression, walked forward and held out a hand to help the woman up.

The woman screamed. It was a high, panicked sound that ripped through the quiet forest. Her eyes were wild, darting between Naru's outstretched hand and her little horns. She scrambled backward on the ground, kicking up dirt, her breathing coming in short, gasping sobs. She looked like a cornered animal, her face contorted with pure, unadulterated terror.

"She's harmless," Frieren assured, sounding more patient than persuasive. "She won't bite."

Naru's eyes drifted toward Frieren. "…Naru bites," she said flatly.

The woman looked like she'd just seen her own obituary.

"But not people," Naru added, after a pause. "Naru only bites food. Dattebayo."

Frieren didn't even blink at the clarification. She just tilted her head toward the hut. "Can we stay? It's fine if you feel uncomfortable."

"Yes! P-please, do whatever you want—just leave me alone!" the woman blurted, scrambling up and practically running to the far side of her garden.

Frieren sighed softly, motioning for Naru to follow her inside.

Inside, the hut was simple but tidy—wooden beams darkened by years of smoke, shelves lined with clay jars and bundles of dried herbs, and a small hearth with a cast-iron pot already simmering. The old woman had clearly been preparing her own dinner before they arrived.

Naru stepped inside after Frieren, her staff tapping lightly on the floor, ribbons swaying with each step. She placed the staff against the wall and went straight toward the counter where a pile of vegetables and a loaf of bread rested.

"Miss, Naru will help you cook. Dattebayo," she announced in her usual flat voice.

The woman, who was keeping the table between herself and the girl, immediately took a half-step back… then another… and then another, until she was pressed against the far wall like Naru was about to breathe fire.

Naru blinked at her once. Then again. Without another word, she picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables with quiet precision, as though the woman's absence was irrelevant. Carrots, onions, potatoes—her movements were simple, a little clumsy, but determined. She moved to the hearth, stirred the pot, and dropped them in. The smell began to change almost immediately, filling the air with a warm, hearty aroma.

The woman's eyes darted toward Frieren, who was leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed. "Why… why is there a demon in your company?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"She's my student," Frieren replied without hesitation.

The woman gaped. "But she's a demon! A monster! They… they eat people!"

Frieren's expression remained unchanged. "Some of them do. She has not yet. And she knows better than to try with me around."

The old woman shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "You don't understand! They just… lie in wait. They pretend to be harmless. They wait for an opening." Her gaze shifted back to Naru, who was now pulling bread apart and dropping pieces into the soup. The sight, instead of comforting her, seemed to terrify her even more. "Look at her! She's acting like a child, but you know what she's capable of! It's all a trick!"

Frieren's lips curled just slightly, a trace of amusement in her voice. "Odd, isn't it?"

The old woman didn't answer, still staring at Naru.

When the food was ready, Naru carried three bowls to the table, setting them down with surprising care. She took the seat across from the old woman and just… stared. Wide blue eyes, unblinking, fixed directly on her.

The woman swallowed hard. "I… I'm not very hungry."

Naru didn't respond. She just kept staring.

Frieren glanced at her student, noting how Naru hadn't touched her own bowl either. It was obvious—Naru was waiting for the woman to eat first.

The silence stretched. The woman shifted in her chair, clearly rattled under that steady, doll-like gaze. Finally, with a shaky hand, she lifted the spoon and took a tentative bite.

She paused. Her eyebrows went up slightly. "…It's… not bad."

Naru blinked once, then picked up her own spoon and began eating in slow, measured bites.

Frieren, watching this little exchange, didn't say a word—but the corners of her mouth softened, just a little.

—oOVOo—

The morning sun filtered through the Turk Region's dense canopy, scattering patterns of gold on the mossy ground. The old woman, now less skittish than the night before, stood outside her hut as Frieren and Naru stepped out. She wrung her hands before speaking, her gaze darting between the stoic elf and the quiet demon girl. She looked like she was trying to work up the courage to say something.

"Frieren-san… could you help me clean something?"

Frieren tilted her head slightly, her long hair swaying with the movement. "Clean?"

"Yes… a special statue."

Frieren arched a brow. "A special statue?"

"Yes. It's been rusty for years now."

Frieren's lips thinned. "Special statues don't rust. That's metal. Do you mean weathered?"

The woman waved her hand, a little flustered. "Weathered, rusty—whatever you want to call it. It's covered in weeds and moss. No one's taken care of it for decades, and... well, it just looks sad."

Frieren gave a slow shrug. "Alright. Show me."

They followed her along a narrow, overgrown path that wound deeper into the forest. The air smelled of damp leaves, and patches of light broke through to illuminate ferns and wildflowers. The chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of the wind were the only sounds. Frieren's mind was distant, thinking of the journey ahead, while Naru walked in her usual quiet rhythm.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing, and there it stood—an old statue, half-swallowed by nature. Its stone surface was muted with grime and streaked green from moss. Thick weeds curled up its base, nearly hiding the figure's boots. It looked less like a monument and more like a forgotten tombstone.

Naru stopped, tilting her head. "Who's that, 'ttebayo?"

Frieren stepped closer, brushing aside a curtain of vines to reveal a faintly smiling face beneath the dirt. "It's Himmel." The name was spoken without any fanfare, but it held a weight that only Frieren could understand.

"Himmel-sama?" Naru asked, blinking her wide blue eyes, as if trying to reconcile the great hero from Heiter's stories with this forgotten, weed-choked statue.

"Mhm." Frieren gave the statue a casual glance, though her tone was faintly dry. "Looks like nobody takes care of it anymore. Serves him right for showing off all the time." She said the words easily, but a faint, almost invisible flicker of sadness passed through her eyes before she crouched down. She pulled out a rag from her pack and a short knife. With steady movements, she began wiping the grime away, scraping moss off with a short knife, and tugging weeds out from the cracks around the base. Her pale hair shifted with each motion, catching the light, and the sound of soft scrubbing filled the clearing.

Naru stood nearby, watching without a word, her staff resting loosely in her hands. The transformation was slow but noticeable—stone darkened by years of weather slowly returned to a pale, smooth surface. The statue's face began to emerge, the confident smile on Himmel's face looking almost warm under the sunlight. It was a face Frieren had seen countless times, a face she. The memories came unbidden—of a hero who was always in the spotlight, who always had a smile for everyone, even for her.

By the time Frieren stood back, brushing the last of the dust from her hands, Himmel's carved face looked alive again. His confident smile was a testament to the man he had been.

"Will it be covered in weeds again?" Naru asked, her voice blank but curious.

"Yes," Frieren said simply. "It will."

Naru tilted her head. "Can Frieren-sama not do something about it?"

Frieren paused mid-step, glancing at her student. "…Actually, I can."

Her expression softened just slightly as she looked at the statue, then at her student. This was it. The moment she had been thinking about for the past week. A meaningful spell. Something that would stay with Naru long after she was gone. "Naru… it's time I teach you your first spell."

Naru's eyes widened faintly. "…Really, Frieren-sama?" she asked, a rare hint of surprise in her voice.

"Mhm. Now observe closely. Watch how I channel my mana." Frieren's tone was serious, a teacher's tone. She stepped to the statue's base, planting her staff into the earth. Her hand tightened around it, her fingers shifting minutely as her focus deepened. She drew in a breath, her voice calm and deliberate. "Rajni."

At once, the ground shimmered. From the soil, soft blue dandelions began to sprout, dozens of them opening in the light. They spread in a gentle circle around the statue, swaying in the faint breeze, their color striking against the grey stone.

Naru's mouth dropped slightly—an unusual expression for her usually neutral face. Her eyes were round, reflecting the flowers' blue hue. Even the old woman looked taken aback, a faint gasp escaping her.

"These flowers," Frieren said, looking at Naru, "will keep weeds from growing here. They'll stay for a long time."

Naru gripped her staff tightly. "Can Naru try, 'ttebayo?" Her voice was filled with a childish excitement Frieren had never heard before.

Frieren nodded. "Go ahead. Remember—steady your mana, then shape it like I did."

Naru stepped forward, mimicking Frieren's stance almost exactly. She held her tall old staff with both hands, shoulders set, and moved it in a slow arc. "Rajni, 'ttebayo."

For a moment, nothing happened. Naru's eyes darted to Frieren, uncertainty creeping into her blank expression. Her shoulders slumped slightly—

—but then, with a faint shimmer, a small cluster of red dandelions pushed through the soil at her feet.

Naru froze, staring at them. Her eyes went wide again, a faint glimmer of pride in their depths. The red flowers seemed to glow in the sunlight, a testament to her first successful spell.

"Good job," Frieren said, reaching out to pat her head lightly. "It's small, but it's good."

Naru crouched down and carefully plucked the red blooms, holding them in her palms like something precious. She didn't look at Frieren or the old woman, her entire focus on the flowers. Without a word, she began weaving them together with the awkward determination of someone who had never done it before. The old woman and Frieren both watched in silence as Naru clumsily tied stems and twisted petals until they formed a small, slightly uneven flower crown.

Then, gripping her staff for balance, she bent her knees and leapt—light as a deer, she rose nearly six feet into the air. Her landing was soundless as she reached out and placed the crown gently on Himmel's stone head. The red flowers sat perfectly on the stone, a stark contrast to the pale grey.

Frieren's lips curved faintly. "…Much better."

The clearing felt warmer somehow, the blue flowers swaying at the statue's feet while the red crown sat proudly above his carved smile. It was a perfect testament to the two heroes who were now watching over the world.

By the time they returned to the hut, the sun was already dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The woman stood at her door, her hands clasped. Her fear was gone, replaced by a quiet sense of awe.

"See you, Frieren-san… Naru-san!" she called out.

Naru blinked, her face as neutral as ever—but she lifted one hand in a small wave, a gesture she had never made before.

TBC

Chapter Text

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Arc 02

The Party

Chapter 03:

Naru VS Qual

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Seven years of wandering with Naru had turned into something Frieren never expected: a strange rhythm that somehow worked. They had passed through forests where the air tasted like rain, deserts where the sun melted the horizon, and ruins where the dust was older than both of them combined. If there was a place that could be explored, they’d likely stepped foot in it, and if there was a trap in said place, Frieren had almost certainly gotten caught in it. Mimics, especially. Always the mimics.

"It’s so dark! Scary! Naru! Help me out!" Frieren’s muffled voice would echo from inside the wooden chest-shaped monster, followed by muffled cursing and an exasperated grunt from her apprentice. Without fail, Naru would grab the mimic by the hinges and force its jaw open with terrifying ease, dragging her mentor out like she was pulling a stubborn cat from under a bed. Every time. Seven years, and Frieren still hadn’t learned.

Naru, though, had changed. The blonde demon girl who once barely reached Frieren’s shoulder now stood almost eye-level with her—tall enough to seem more grown-up, but not so tall that Frieren had to crane her neck. The soft roundness in her cheeks had melted away with the years, giving her face a sharper, more mature beauty that made strangers glance twice. The innocence hadn’t gone anywhere, though. Her horns had grown slightly, the orange ribbons tied neatly in the same short twin ponytails as always, her orange-white frock swaying with every step, stockings perfectly in place. It was as if she’d stepped out of the same picture year after year, refusing to change anything except the inevitable aging of time.

Frieren was quietly relieved the girl hadn’t surpassed her in… certain physical aspects— namely the chest area. Not that she would ever be jealous of her own pupil—absolutely not. She wasn’t that petty. But still, it was comforting to know some balances remained in place.

Her face was still blank most of the time, almost unreadable unless something truly caught her interest. An ancient magical device, an unusual spell effect, a particularly fluffy cat—then her eyes would widen, lips part slightly, and her voice might even lift in pitch. Those rare shifts in expression felt like seeing flowers bloom in a snowy field.

Training her hadn’t been easy. Naru wasn’t naturally gifted. She had no miraculous prodigy moments where she mastered something after a single try. Every spell, every concept, every nuance of mana control took repetition. And more repetition. And then more repetition after that. But she was stubborn in a quiet way. Never complained. Never asked why. She simply nodded, tried again, and again, and again. Frieren had long since stopped expecting shortcuts from her, and in a way, that made the moments Naru succeeded all the more rewarding.

Her ability to create clones was a blessing, though. When they were working on a spell, she could multiply herself into a dozen Narus, all practicing at once, like a small army of identical orange-clad magicians marching through incantations in perfect unison. It was both efficient and mildly unnerving to witness.

Despite being the teacher, Frieren often found herself the one being looked after. Naru was the one who woke her up when she wanted to sleep in until noon. She made sure Frieren ate properly on days when she "forgot" to cook or when they were traveling through nowhere and she tried to live off dried bread alone. Bathing? If Frieren got lazy, Naru would scoop her up without hesitation, march to the nearest bath, and dump her inside like it was part of her job description.

And then there was her strength. Being a demon came with the kind of raw physical power humans and elves didn’t casually possess. Frieren took full advantage of that—unashamedly so. Heavy luggage? Naru carried it. Fallen trees in the path? Naru moved them. Frieren feeling tired? Naru carried her. Once, in a snowy mountain pass, Frieren had simply climbed into Naru’s arms and been carried the rest of the way down as if she were a particularly spoiled princess. The girl never complained. She didn’t even look mildly annoyed. She just carried her, silent and steady, her horns catching flakes of snow.

Sometimes Frieren wondered if Naru even realized how much she did for her. Probably not. Naru didn’t think in terms of effort or fairness. If Frieren asked, she did it. That was all.

And maybe, Frieren thought, glancing at her apprentice as they walked through yet another nameless stretch of forest, that was why she’d come to rely on her so much—not just for her strength or her presence, but for the quiet certainty that Naru would always be there when she called.

—oOVOo—

The air in the clearing of Görße Forest was still, the morning mist curling lazily through the towering trees. A patch of sunlight broke through the canopy, spilling gold across the mossy ground where Frieren stood. She was calm and poised, her staff lightly resting in her hands. Across from her, Naru mirrored the stance, her own orange-ribboned staff held at the ready, blank blue eyes locked on her teacher. The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint, rhythmic chirping of a cricket somewhere in the undergrowth.

Without a word, Frieren’s fingers twitched, a faint hum of mana building at the tip of her staff. Then—flash!—a razor-thin beam of mana shot forward, cutting through the air like a line of pure light. It sizzled toward Naru, the speed almost instantaneous, a testament to Frieren’s flawless casting.

The blonde demon didn’t flinch. Her horns caught the light as she swung her staff upward in a smooth, practiced motion, summoning a shimmering orange-tinted barrier in front of her. The beam struck the shield with a sharp crack! before glancing off, dissipating harmlessly into the forest shadows. Naru’s barrier held, but Frieren saw the faint tremor in her apprentice’s hands and the subtle shift of her weight, a clear sign that the raw force had been significant.

Frieren lowered her staff slightly, her gaze level. "That was a singular, linear attack," she said, her voice even, though the faintest curl of a smile tugged at her lips. "You reacted perfectly, and your barrier held. A good, basic defense. But what if…"

The air thrummed again. This time, six separate beams burst from her staff in a fan-shaped spread. But instead of flying straight, they bent and curved mid-flight, weaving around in unpredictable arcs like hunting snakes, each one seeking a different path to its target. They were faster this time, and the mana pulsed with a more sinister intent.

Naru’s eyes flicked from one to the next, tracking their movements. Her expression was still blank, but her pupils were dilated, her mind working furiously to calculate the trajectories. She dropped her barrier, pushed off the ground, and leapt high. Her skirt and ribbons fluttered as she twisted midair, landing lightly on a branch several meters away in a crouch, balancing perfectly despite the swaying wood beneath her feet. The beams, now without a target, crisscrossed beneath her, sizzling and cracking against the ground where she had just been.

Frieren tilted her head. "Your reflexes are great as always." Then her voice sharpened slightly. "However… what if you’re in a position where you can’t dodge it? A narrow cave, a hallway, or a room with no place to run or leap. What do you do then?"

Naru blinked, processing that, then said flatly, "Then Naru dies?"

"Yes," Frieren replied, as if stating a weather report. "But we don’t want that, now, do we?"

The demon girl tilted her head slightly, her face still as unreadable as ever. “If Naru is gone… then who will look after Frieren-sama?” she murmured, the thought a simple, undeniable fact to her.

For just a second, Frieren’s composed face cracked—one eyebrow twitching, a tiny sweatdrop forming on her temple. “...Anyways,” she muttered, "the trick to surviving such an attack would be—" she paused, tapping her chin, "—actually, figure it out yourself. It's a fundamental principle of mana control. You'll understand it when you're ready."

Naru tilted her head again. "Why, Frieren-sama?" she asked, hopping down from the tree with a soundless drop, landing beside her teacher.

"It’ll be good for your brain," Frieren replied smoothly, a hint of playful mischief in her eyes.

The demon girl nodded once, obedient, her mind already turning over the problem. She looked down at the ground, a little frown forming on her lips, then the realization dawned on her expressionless face. Her eyes narrowed faintly—Frieren had called her dumb. Again.

Without a word, she turned on her heel and started walking in a random direction, her staff resting lazily against her shoulder. She was heading deeper into the forest, a path that led nowhere in particular.

"Not that way, Naru," Frieren called after her, already stepping lightly over a root. "There’s a village we need to get to. Let’s go."

Naru stopped, glanced at the wrong path she’d been taking, then adjusted course without hurry. Her shoulders slumped just a fraction of an inch, a silent sign of her defeat. “…Naru is coming, ’ttebayo,” she said in her usual flat tone, trailing after her mentor as the misty forest swallowed their footsteps, leaving the clearing quiet once more.

—oOVOo—

The midday sun was warm on the dirt road as the two of them reached the small wooden gates of the village. A weathered man in a wide-brimmed straw hat sat by the entrance, leaning lazily against the fence. The moment his gaze fell on them, his eyes widened, and he scrambled upright, his voice carrying a sudden burst of energy.

“Frieren-sama! You’re back!”

Frieren slowed, tilting her head slightly at the familiarity in his tone. The man beamed, though the wrinkles around his eyes suggested he’d been waiting decades for this moment. He was a human in his late fifties or early sixties, his skin tanned and his face full of laugh lines that seemed to have been carved by the sun itself.

She squinted at him, then her eyes narrowed in faint recollection. “…Ah. You’re the brat who flipped my skirt when I came here with Himmel and the others. Himmel was very angry.” Her voice was calm, but the bluntness of her words made Naru glance between them with mild curiosity. “It’s surprising that you’re still alive.”

The man laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his thinning hair. “That’s a harsh thing to say, Frieren-sama… but since I’ve seen you again, I’ll surely live for another century!” He chuckled, then straightened. “In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”

“Really?” Frieren arched a brow, unconvinced.

“Indeed. I’ve told so much about the Hero’s Party to my children. They even met Himml-sama, even in his old age, he would come here and check on this place every now and then.”

Frieren's expression remained unreadable, but her voice lowered into something thoughtful. “I see… Well… he was the hero. He never forsook people. Even in old age.”

Beside her, Naru blinked. “What is Frieren-sama talking about?” she murmured, tilting her head.

The old man’s gaze drifted toward Naru, and for the first time, surprise flickered across his features. He opened his mouth as if to comment—but seeing the demon horns on her head, he closed it again without a word. He cleared his throat and looked away, a nervous twitch in his eye.

Frieren didn’t stop to explain. She simply turned to the right, her robe swaying lightly, and called over her shoulder, “Follow me.”

Naru adjusted her staff and trailed after her, curiosity buzzing in her mind.

As they walked deeper into the village, the cobblestone path crunching underfoot, Frieren finally spoke again. “Years ago,” she began, her tone as calm as if she were narrating the weather, “among the humans who traveled across this place, the Great Demon Qual used to slaughter them. It’s said he killed over seventy percent of the central province’s army.”

Naru’s brows lifted slightly. “He was that strong?”

“Yes,” Frieren replied simply. “We couldn’t kill him. He had a sure-kill spell called Soul Track—a magic that penetrated any kind of defense, magical or otherwise.”

Naru frowned faintly. “Isn’t Soul Track a normal magic spell?”

“It is now,” Frieren said. “But back then… it was a disaster. There was no known counter to it, no way to block or deflect it. It simply… went through everything.”

Naru’s tail of hair swayed slightly as she asked, “And why is Frieren-sama back here with Naru?”

“We didn’t have the magic to counter his attacks,” Frieren explained. “So we—the Hero’s Party—had to seal him.” She lifted her chin toward the hill up ahead. “He’s still alive. Look.”

Naru followed the line of Frieren’s finger, and her eyes landed on a massive stone statue. Its figure towered over the grassy field—large horns curling from its head, a broad, muscular build carved in brutal lines, and a face twisted into a perpetual snarl.

“…He’s a demon?” Naru asked, her voice flat with intrigue. “He doesn’t look like Naru.”

“Not all demons are ninety-five percent human-looking like you,” Frieren said, glancing at her briefly. "You look like a half-blood with human genetics, but a demon is a demon."

Naru tapped her staff against her shoulder. “Frieren-sama will finish him off, ’ttebayo?”

“That was supposed to be the plan,” Frieren said evenly. Then her lips curved faintly. “But… no. You’re going to do it.”

Naru froze, blinking once. “…Eh?”

Frieren stepped back, her expression as calm as ever, but there was a glint of anticipation in her green eyes. She rested her staff lightly against her shoulder before lowering it with a smooth, almost lazy motion. "This will be a good test for you."

Naru squinted at her, her face a mask of mild confusion. "...Frieren-sama wants to get rid of Naru."

"You're overthinking it. This is just a test," Frieren replied, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. Then, almost too softly to hear, she whispered something under her breath.

A deep BOOMM split the air.

From the sky, a concentrated beam of golden light shot down like judgment from the heavens, striking the massive stone statue with a deafening crack. Dust exploded in every direction, turning the air heavy with the smell of scorched earth. The forest floor trembled, and birds scattered from the trees in a frantic flurry.

When the debris cleared, the statue was no more—just fragments scattered around a massive, smoldering crater. And in its place stood the Great Demon Qual.

He was a terrifying sight, massive and powerful, easily twice Naru’s height. His skin was the color of deep slate, and his horns curled like deadly blades from his head. Every movement he made radiated a predatory ease, as if the world itself could not touch him. His crimson eyes, glowing with a malevolent light, locked onto Frieren with a look of instant recognition.

"Frieren," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "How long has it been?"

"Eighty years," she answered, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

"Not much... in our standards," Qual mused, a cruel smirk gracing his lips. His gaze sharpened slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes. "Tell me—did your party defeat the Demon King? Are they still around?"

"Yes," Frieren replied evenly. "Though Himmel and Heiter have passed away peacefully."

"I see..." Qual's tone softened just enough to suggest a faint, almost grudging respect for his former adversaries. But then his eyes shifted, noticing the young demon standing a short distance away, gripping her staff. "...A demon lass?" His lips curved into a wider grin. "What's your name?"

"It's Naru, Qual-san," she replied, her voice flat and formal, bowing her head slightly, though her stance remained guarded and her staff was held firmly in her hands.

"Did you make Frieren unseal me?" Qual asked, his grin widening into something sinister. "Then you deserve a reward..."

"Actually," Frieren interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "I voluntarily unsealed you so that she can kill you. She is my dear pupil."

Qual blinked once. Then, to Naru’s surprise, he threw his head back and laughed—a deep, rolling laugh that echoed across the empty field, shaking the leaves on the trees.

"That," he said, wiping at his eyes as if this were too absurd to be real, "is the most ridiculous thing I've heard since Schlacht claimed Solitär would die at the hands of a child. A demon learning from a human? Ridiculous. It’s an act of blasphemy." His grin grew sharper, showing the tips of his fangs.

Frieren gave the faintest shrug, her face a portrait of serene confidence. "Attack."

That was all Naru needed. She stepped forward, planting her feet firmly in the newly formed crater as mana surged through her staff. The runes along the wood glowed with a bright jade hue, and with a sharp thrust forward—BOOM—a roaring beam of green light burst from her staff, streaking across the field toward Qual.

Qual didn’t flinch. With a single smooth motion, he raised a clawed hand, weaving mana into a shimmering, translucent barrier. The beam struck it with a deafening crackle, sparks of raw energy cascading across the shield’s surface before dissipating. The force of the impact was immense, kicking up more dust and making the ground tremble.

"Not bad," Qual admitted, lowering the barrier. "Your Soul Track is almost as refined as mine. I suppose humans have been studying my spell all this time, trying to find a counter..." He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in predatory amusement. "I'll let you know, girl—I won't hesitate to kill you. Stand down."

Naru didn’t move. Her knuckles tightened around the staff. Her eyes—those wide, blue eyes—hardened, refusing to waver. She stood her ground, an unmovable object in the face of an unstoppable force.

Qual’s mana surged in a violent ripple, his staff humming with a low, ominous whine. Without a word, he flicked it forward and unleashed his own Soul Track—a blinding, needle-like beam of destructive magic that tore through the air. Naru’s eyes didn’t widen, didn't blink; she simply lifted her own staff in one smooth motion. Mana coalesced into a shimmering barrier before her, rippling like molten glass. The beam struck—hissed—splintered—and then ricocheted harmlessly away into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

The dust hadn’t even settled before Naru stepped forward, staff aimed like a spear, and answered with her own Soul Track. The light that burst forth was raw and unrestrained, slamming into Qual’s conjured mana shield with a deafening crack.

Qual chuckled, the sound low and almost indulgent. "Oh? This version of my Soul Track... it's strong. Very strong. But you’re burning through far too much mana to maintain it." His smile deepened into something wolfish. "How about this?"

The ground beneath him vibrated as he raised his staff high. Six distinct beams of mana—each one curving and twisting like serpents—snapped into existence. They tore through the air in a synchronized spiral, arcing toward her from six different angles at once. This was a spell of pure chaos and destruction.

Naru’s body moved before her mind caught up. She launched herself upward in a blur, the six beams slashing through the space she’d been standing in a heartbeat earlier. Her boots touched down on the earth with feline grace, barely a whisper of sound.

"Judging by your style," Qual called out, his tone almost conversational despite the battlefield, "you’re more suited for a warrior-type. The way you move, the way you evade... your talent is wasted on magic. You could never become a truly proficient mage." His crimson eyes gleamed as he parried her next shot. "But... you could become a splendid warrior."

Naru didn’t answer him. She only landed lightly, pivoted on her heel, and snapped her staff forward again. Another beam roared toward him, bright and unyielding—only to be turned aside by the smooth flick of his shield.

A faint crease formed between her brows. She could feel her mana thinning, not from exhaustion but from inefficiency. She was thinking too much about matching his style, his brute force, and his power. She was fighting his battle, not her own.

That was when Qual’s staff slammed into the ground with a bone-shaking thud.

Silence. For a moment, it was as if the forest itself had stopped breathing.

Then—movement.

Roots erupted from the earth like a swarm of snakes, twisting and coiling around Naru’s legs. They were thick, rough, and impossibly strong, biting into her stockings with a cruel grip. She pulled once, then twice, but they didn’t so much as shift. They held her in place, an unbreakable cage of wood and earth.

Qual’s voice slid across the clearing, cold and certain. "I see now... you can't cast a multi-layer shield. You're a one-trick pony. All of your training has been focused on offense and not a single bit on defense." His expression turned almost pitying. "A shame. You have to die like this."

Naru’s head turned, her gaze drawn almost instinctively to Frieren, who was still standing at a safe distance, watching the fight unfold with a serene expression.

Frieren was smiling at her. Serene. Encouraging. Infuriatingly calm.

For the first time, Naru’s eyes narrowed—not from fear, but from something colder. In that moment, she felt like Frieren-sama had just handed her to Qual on a silver platter.

The demon’s staff glowed like the heart of a star. Then—ten Soul Tracks burst forth, faster than a blink, streaking straight toward her. There was no escape. She was trapped.

—oOVOo—

The ten Soul Tracks slammed into her bound form with the fury of a divine hammer. The clearing lit up in a blinding white flash, the air splitting with a thunderclap as the explosion rolled out. The roots holding Naru shattered into splinters, and the ground beneath her feet was pulverized. Smoke billowed instantly, thick and acrid, swallowing Naru’s silhouette whole.

Qual lowered his staff, a slow exhale escaping him. “Pathetic,” he muttered, the word laced with dismissive contempt. His crimson eyes, now glowing with a vicious triumph, turned to Frieren. “A ridiculous idea, taking a demon as your student. You wasted your time… and now, I’ll kill you as well.” His mana began to surge, a palpable wave of destructive intent that made the trees around them tremble.

Frieren didn’t move. Her staff rested loosely in her grip, her expression unreadable. “The biggest flaw of demons,” she said, her tone flat and almost bored, "is their pride and arrogance. You assumed she would die. You assumed she was just a clumsy apprentice with no talent for magic." A faint, dry smile touched her lips. "And today, you will die because of that."

“Oh?” Qual arched a brow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "And you'll kill me?" He was so confident, so sure of his own power, that the possibility of his demise was a joke to him.

Frieren’s gaze slid past him, toward the billowing smoke. "No," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. "She will."

Qual’s eyes widened, a sharp chill threading down his spine. He had killed the demon girl. He was sure of it. But Frieren's words… they held a truth that his pride refused to acknowledge. Before he could even turn fully, the forest erupted in light.

A cluster of mana beams—fierce, precise, and impossibly fast—shot in from every direction. They slammed into him like meteor strikes, tearing through his defenses. He staggered, knees buckling as his mana shield shattered. He looked around in a daze, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack, but the smoke was too thick, and the light was too blinding.

In the dissipating haze, his vision adjusted—then froze.

There were Naru’s. Dozens of them. Ten at least, each standing at different angles around him, each with her staff glowing dangerously. They were all identical, from the orange ribbons in their hair to the unwavering focus in their eyes. They moved as one, a seamless, deadly chorus of magical power.

And then he saw her—the real one—standing several meters away, calm as ever. Her face was as expressionless as a doll's, but there was a faint, unmistakable gleam of pride in her blue eyes. Protecting her was a multi-layered shield, covering her from four sides like a transparent fortress of light. It was a defense spell that Frieren had been trying to teach her for years. A spell that was supposed to be impossible for a demon of her age to learn.

His breath hitched. “Impossible! How can you… that’s—” he stammered, the words catching in his throat.

"Naru learned the defense spell," she said blankly, her voice cutting through his shock. "Frieren-sama said it was a good test. Naru didn't want to fail."

The clones didn’t wait. Mana surged, and in perfect unison, they unleashed Zoltraak from every angle, creating a vortex of pure destructive power that converged on Qual’s form. The air split with a sound that was both a roar and a shriek, a cacophony of magical energy that engulfed him completely.

“Qual-san,” Naru’s voice drifted through the storm of light. “Goodbye.”

—oOVOo—

The air on the way back from the clearing was… frosty. Not literally this time—just heavy with unspoken words. Naru walked a step ahead, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her usual calm expression now paired with a faint pout that seemed stubbornly fixed on her face. Whenever Frieren-sama asked her something, she’d just give a short “hmph” without looking back, the sound a soft, indignant puff of air.

Frieren tilted her head slightly, her green eyes watching the blonde demon’s stiff shoulders and the subtle swing of her ponytails. “Are you mad at me?” she asked, her voice calm and even.

Naru didn’t turn around. “Naru is not mad at Frieren-sama. Hmph.” The words were spoken with a quiet finality, but the tone said the exact opposite.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Frieren replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Hmph.”

The silence stretched for a few more moments, filled only by the soft crunch of their boots on the forest floor. Without warning, Frieren reached out and patted the top of Naru’s head. The horns didn’t make it easy, but her hand slid between them to ruffle her hair gently. Naru instantly stiffened, her whole body rigid with surprise—then, slowly, a visible shift occurred. Her shoulders dropped a fraction, her pout softened, and she leaned into the touch for a brief, fleeting moment. The shift was visible, like watching a cat pretend it didn’t want affection only to melt under it.

It lasted three whole seconds before Naru remembered she was supposed to be “hmphy.” She jerked away, her cheeks faintly pink, and walked faster, her staff tapping against the ground with a newfound purpose.

Frieren smiled faintly to herself. “You did good. Qual was a formidable challenge for someone like you.”

Naru blinked, slowing her steps until she was walking beside her mentor. “Someone like Naru?” The words came out with a hint of suspicion. That… sounded like an insult, or at the very least, a backhanded compliment.

“You learn best in tense situations,” Frieren explained, not missing a beat. “That’s why I made you fight him. It worked, didn’t it? You figured out how to use your clones to create a multi-layered shield. A perfect defense against his attacks. I knew you would find a way to win. Besides…” she looked forward, her tone softening just slightly, “…I have faith in you.”

Naru stopped mid-step, her blue eyes widening just a fraction. She blinked once, twice… then gave a small, firm nod. “Mm.”