Give me stones!
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Fafnir woke up early despite the previous night's activities, but his partner was still blissfully asleep.
Most likely she was physically and mentally exhausted from last night. As for him, he possessed a dragon's constitution—he wouldn't get tired even if they continued for an entire week.
Dragons were built different. Not to mention they were inherently lustful creatures. The fact that he had managed to control his lust until now was nothing short of a miracle.
It was mostly thanks to his circumstances. Being hunted for years had significantly suppressed his lust, and after arriving in this new world and settling into a peaceful life, it had never been triggered again. His body had simply grown conditioned to stay that way.
But last night had completely awakened the dormant lust he had accumulated for decades.
The result was quite obvious. He could barely remember what had transpired. All he could recall was using Serie's body as he pleased.
Thankfully, they had cast a soundproofing spell beforehand, or else Frieren would have heard her moaning all night.
He could still smell it—the room was thick with their sweat, hormones, and juices.
Honestly, he had never felt this good. It was as if all his stress had been released in one night.
He quickly used magic to dispel the musky scent in the room and cast a cleaning spell to remove the "juices" everywhere.
—
By the time Serie woke up, it was already noon. She limped into the dining room, glaring at him.
"I said to make me forget the pain, not to make me feel it."
Her words left Frieren looking confused, while Fafnir could only stare back at Serie with a guilty expression.
After all, he had gone a bit too far during last night's activities—even if he didn't remember much.
Then he heard her mumbling under her breath. "I didn't even realize there were so many holes in my body that could be used like that…"
Fafnir felt a wave of shame wash over him. 'What the hell really happened that night?!'
Lunch proceeded in its usual silence.
It always did after their daughter's death. Today, however, it felt different. Previously the atmosphere had been numb and lifeless. Today there was a faint spark of life in the air. It still wasn't the same as before, but that was understandable.
Serie was still deep in mourning, and so was Frieren—though it was less obvious on the younger elf. Humans might recover in years, but for elves it would likely take centuries, if not a millennium.
Fafnir didn't want her to mourn that long. He cared deeply for her well-being. Since a perfect solution existed, he decided it was time to tell her.
After last night, their relationship had taken another step forward. Although they had played the roles of mother and father to Flamme, their own bond had been nothing more than higher than friends but less than lovers.
Last night had been the catalyst—and essentially the confirmation of their new relationship status.
After they finished eating, the dining room fell into a temporary silence. No one initiated conversation until Fafnir decided to speak plainly, without beating around the bush.
"If I told you there was a way to revive Flamme, would you believe me?"
The atmosphere in the dining room instantly dropped to a chilling low.
Frieren's young body broke out in goosebumps as she looked back and forth between her guardians.
She gazed at Fafnir with open hope, completely believing his words. Despite being centuries old, she was still a child by elven standards. Naturally, she didn't think her grandpa would lie.
But Serie was a full-grown adult. She understood the implications of what he had just said—which was exactly why she found it unbelievable. No elf alive was more knowledgeable about magic than she was, and that was why she could confidently declare that revival was complete nonsense.
If it were possible, everyone would have tried it by now. Instead, it was a forbidden taboo in this world. Not only would you fail, but you would also be cursed by the world's karma for even attempting it.
No matter how much mana you possessed, you could not fight the fundamental laws of this world.
That was why she understood with perfect clarity that reviving a dead person was a lost cause. It was better to move on than to cling to false hope.
Even time travel was more realistic than revival—and it had been proven to exist. As amazing as it sounded, she couldn't care less about it. From her experience, no matter how far back you traveled, you could never truly change the present. The world would always "correct" itself to ensure the present remained the present.
Scholars and sages alike had realized, after mastering time magic, that their world essentially ran on a single straight timeline with no true divergences. The line might twist and turn occasionally, but it would always straighten again.
That realization had caused many scholars and sages to fall into despair, knowing that their beginning and end were already foretold.
It was also part of the reason the mythical era had ended—because no matter how hard they tried to save it, their downfall had already been written.
Only a few people could change their destined end. Serie was one of them. Her magical knowledge transcended that of any mortal, granting her the right to alter her own fate. That could not be said for anyone else.
Anyway, she was furious with her "lover" for saying such a thing. Giving her false hope like that was worse than dying.
"Do you think this is a joke?"
Unconsciously, she released an unrestrained wave of mana from her body—something she had never done since Flamme taught her to hide it. But right now she was too angry to care about control.
Frieren nearly suffocated from the pressure, but Serie quickly noticed and restrained her mana back to a tolerable level. Even so, the suffocating feeling still lingered in the room.
With a deep frown that clearly conveyed her extreme displeasure, Serie continued, "You know very well that revival isn't possible, yet you say that to my face just to give me false hope? I'm very disappointed in you."
"It's not false hope, and revival is possible," Fafnir replied, refusing to back down. From the lessons he had received from her, he knew there was some kind of law preventing resurrection in this world, rendering all previous attempts useless.
But he wasn't pinning his hopes on this world anyway. If this world couldn't give him what he wanted, he would simply try another.
"What do you keep insisting on the impossible for…? It's not possible to revive a person in this world."
"Exactly."
Serie stared hard into his crimson eyes. "What?"
Before her emotions could explode, he continued. "If you've forgotten, I'm not originally from this world. If this world doesn't allow revival, then I'll try my luck in another. I have the time and the means to traverse different worlds. Finding one that fits my criteria is only a matter of time."
He looked her straight in the eyes. "This isn't false hope, Serie. I can and will definitely find a world capable of reviving our daughter."
Serie's eyes widened as the realization hit her. The man in front of her was a traveler. Lost in her grief, she had completely forgotten that Fafnir had come from another world.
Now, thinking about the implications, she began to feel real hope. Her prior dissatisfaction melted away into genuine joy. "Is it really possible to revive her?"
"Yes. I will make sure of it. Even if it takes a thousand-year journey, I will never stop until I revive our daughter. After all, time is our greatest advantage."
The issue of lifespan wasn't a problem, considering they were both from immortal species. They could wait thousands of years if needed.
There was also the problem of traversing dangerous worlds, but right now he couldn't control which world he ended up in—just random coordinates each time he used his dimensional travel spell. Still, he was at least confident he could protect himself if things became dire.
But there was one problem, and it depended entirely on their answer to his next question.
"Would you like to follow me on this long journey?"
He had already weighed the pros and cons. If they didn't come with him, it would probably be for the best. He knew that across all dimensions there were truly dangerous things he wasn't capable of defeating. At the moment, his strongest firepower was barely planetary—arguably moon level at best.
He was very aware that if he ever traveled to a world like *Problem Children Are Coming from Another World, Aren't They?* or *No Game No Life: Zero*, even with his power level he would have an extremely hard time dealing with the top-tier threats there.
He was at least confident he could escape. But if he had people to protect, that percentage would drop significantly, and their survival would depend almost entirely on luck.
At the same time, if he went alone he wouldn't be able to see them for a long time. It would take at least a few decades—or worse, centuries—if the world he landed in had no mana to recharge his reserves for the next jump.
After all, filling the dimensional travel spell required at least a decade's worth of mana. There was no way he would refill his Dimensional Energy (DE) by draining his mana reserves daily. Not only was it stupid, it was also extremely dangerous. Without mana he couldn't use his shape-shifting skill, he wouldn't be able to fly, and he would have to crawl around like a four-legged creature.
He waited for their answer, though deep inside he already knew what it would be.
Without hesitation, both Serie and Frieren replied.
"I'll go with you. Isn't this the perfect chance to study otherworldly magic—or an equivalent of it?"
"Me too! I'll follow you everywhere, Grandpa."
Fafnir let out a long sigh. He had known that would be their answer, but he still allowed a small smile to form.
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A/N:This is a journey of finding a way to revive Flamme rather than the initial plan to search for his Earth.