Subaru thought for a second. The tent walls flapped in the wind, and the brazier flickered, casting moving shadows across the canvas. Staying with the army meant she could learn more about this world, how it worked, who the important people were, what rules everyone followed. Soldiers talked. Commanders gave orders. Information flowed through a camp like water through cracks in a wall. If she stayed alert, she could pick up pieces of knowledge that might save her life later.
But the risk was there. A big risk. She could be exposed as a demon. Even with Übel's help, even with the turban wrapped tight around her head, there was always a chance that someone would notice something wrong. A mage with sharp senses. A priest with divine sight. A soldier who had fought demons before and knew what to look for. One mistake and the whole camp would turn on her.
On the other hand, the job came with money. The pouch she had collected from that abandoned village was nearly empty now. She had counted the coins twice that morning, hoping she had made a mistake the first time. She had not. Even if the world changed, the necessity of money remained constant. She needed more. That was simply true.
But this was certainly risky. Dangerous. The kind of dangerous that could get her killed in ways that left no body to bury.
She looked at Wirt again. The dark red hair. The reddish eyes. Something about his face made her stomach tighten, though she could not explain why. Then it hit her. He looked too much like that red haired boy from day zero. The one who had killed her over and over in the forest. The one whose face she had seen in her nightmares, blank and cold, swinging an axe while she screamed.
But this was not the same person. She told herself that firmly. Different face. Different voice. Different clothes. Different everything. Wirt was a commander, a noble's son, a man who wore armor and gave orders. The red haired boy had been alone, bleeding in the dirt, attacking her on sight. They were not the same. They could not be the same.
She pushed the thought away.
Her goal was simple. Get away from that red haired boy and his companions as fast as possible. That was why she had been heading to the opposite direction, toward the northeast region of the continent. There was a high chance those people would not try to go that far to exact revenge or whatever racist vendetta they had against her. Demons were despicable creatures, according to what everyone said. She had heard it in villages, in taverns, from travelers on the road. Demons killed without reason. Demons could not be trusted. Demons deserved to be destroyed.
But Subaru had yet to meet a demon herself. Not one. Not a single one. She had woken up in a demon's body, surrounded by stories about how evil her kind was supposed to be, and she had never actually seen another demon to compare notes. So she had no comment. Maybe the stories were true. Maybe they were not. Right now, she had bigger problems than figuring out the moral standing of a species she had accidentally joined.
Regardless, gaining experience and knowledge about this world and getting some money was a really good offer. Even with the risk of her secret being revealed. The chance to learn, to prepare, to build something that might keep her alive, that was worth something. Maybe it was worth the danger.
But she was not alone. She could not just say yes without Übel's consent. They were partners now, or something close to it. Übel had agreed to travel with her, to fight beside her, to not kill her on sight. That counted for something. Subaru could not make decisions for both of them.
She turned to Übel. "What do you say?"
Übel did not answer immediately. She stood with her arms crossed, her staff resting against her shoulder, her green eyes fixed on Wirt. Her expression was unreadable, the way it often was when she was thinking. The firelight caught her face, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the slight furrow of her brow.
After a long moment, she spoke. "Explain in a bit more detail."
Wirt nodded. He stepped closer to the brazier, warming his hands, though the gesture seemed more about filling the silence than any real need for heat. "The large scale invasion should happen in about a week. Maybe less. Our scouts have seen movement in the hills, groups gathering, creatures that do not usually work together. Something is organizing them." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Many of our mages are injured from the last skirmish. We do not have enough of them left to cover the front lines properly. Vorig is a warrior focused city. We have soldiers, good soldiers, strong soldiers, but we do not have competent mages. Most of our people train with swords and spears, not with staffs and spells. So I am asking you to help us stop the invasion."
"I see," Übel said.
She looked at Subaru, then back at Wirt. Her expression had not changed, but something in her posture had shifted. She was considering the offer, weighing it against something only she could see.
"Is the money good?" she asked.
Wirt smiled. He reached into a pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out a fat leather bag. The coins inside clinked together, a heavy sound, the sound of actual wealth. He held it up for a moment, letting the firelight catch the bulging sides, then set it on the small table between them.
Subaru's eyes almost sparkled. She felt her face trying to react, trying to show excitement, trying to lean forward and grab the bag before anyone could change their mind. She restrained herself. She clenched her hands behind her back and kept her expression as neutral as she could manage. But inside, her thoughts were racing. That is a lot of coins. That is more coins than I have seen since I got here. That is maybe enough coins to last more than a week.
Übel smirked. She looked at the pouch, then at Wirt, then back at the pouch. "That is all?"
Wirt's smile grew wider. He did not seem offended by the question. If anything, he looked pleased, as if her reaction was exactly what he had hoped for. "That is just the advance," he said. "Impress me, and you will get ten times more."
Subaru's brain stopped working for a second. Ten times. She tried to do the math in her head, failed, and decided it did not matter. Ten times was a lot. Ten times was enough. Ten times was more than she had ever dreamed of having in this world.
"We will take it!" Subaru said quickly.
The words came out before she could stop them. Her voice was louder than she intended, higher pitched, the voice of someone who had just seen a solution to all her problems and grabbed it without looking both ways.
Übel sighed. She had been about to bargain for twenty times, maybe more. She had the skill for it, the confidence, the experience. But Subaru had already said yes, and now the deal was done. Twenty would have been nice. Twenty would have been better. But ten was still good, and arguing now would only make them look desperate.
She shook her head slightly, a small movement that Subaru almost missed. "Fine," she said. "Ten times."
Wirt nodded. He looked genuinely grateful, which was unusual for someone in his position. Commanders did not often show gratitude to strangers. They gave orders and expected obedience. But Wirt bowed his head slightly, a small gesture of respect. "I am very grateful," he said. "You have no idea how much this means to us. The city has lost too many people already. Every soldier we save, every family that does not have to mourn, that is because of you."
Subaru felt something twist in her chest. Guilt, maybe. Or fear. She was not sure. She was lying to him, hiding what she was, pretending to be something she was not. And he was thanking her for it. She pushed the feeling down and forced herself to bow in return.
"Looking forward to working with you," she said.
Her voice was steady. Her face was calm. Her hands did not shake. She hoped that was enough.
Wirt smiled again, nodded once more, and turned to leave. The tent flap closed behind him, and the canvas walls stopped flapping for a moment, as if the wind itself was holding its breath.
Subaru stood there, staring at the spot where he had been. Her mind was still catching up to what she had just agreed to. Fighting in a war. Against demons. While being a demon. The irony was not lost on her. It was, in fact, sitting on her chest like a very heavy cat.
Übel picked up the pouch of coins and tossed it in her hand, feeling the weight. "Ten times," she said. "Not bad."
"I said yes too fast," Subaru admitted.
"Yes, you did."
"I should have let you bargain."
"Yes, you should have."
Subaru sighed. "Are you angry?"
Übel looked at her. Her expression was hard to read, as always, but there was something soft around the edges. "No," she said. "You are broke. I understand. Though… I never imagined I'd see someone of your kind… be desperate for coins like this,"
Subaru wanted to argue, but she could not. It was true. She was broke. She had been broke since she arrived in this world, and she would continue to be broke until she found a way to make money that did not involve dying repeatedly.
"Yeah," she said "I guess I'm an anomaly,"
Übel shrugged. "Do not forget that we have to survive the invasion."
Subaru groaned. "I forgot about that part."
"You should keep in mind that demons will know what you are. So…"
The tent fell silent again. The brazier crackled. The wind picked up outside, rattling the canvas, reminding them that the world was still there, still cold, still dangerous.
Subaru sat back down on her stool and put her head in her hands. "What have I gotten myself into?"
Übel sat down across from her, still holding the pouch of coins. "A paying job," she said. "With a handsome commander. In a city that needs help. It could be worse."
"It could always be worse," Subaru muttered. "That is the problem."
Übel laughed, a small sound, almost gentle. "Do not worry. I will keep you alive."
Subaru looked up at her. The green haired mage was smiling, not the sharp smile she used when she was about to cut something, but a real smile, warm and almost kind.
"You promise?" Subaru asked.
Übel tilted her head. "I promise to try."
Subaru decided that was good enough.
───✧───
Frieren continued to pack her belongings in the small cabin at the edge of the village. The room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp that flickered whenever the wind found its way through the cracks in the walls. She moved with quiet efficiency, folding clothes, checking her pouches, counting the small vials and herbs she had gathered over the past few days. Every item went into her bag with purpose. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was forgotten.
She was cataloging the things she had and the things she would need just in case. The list in her head grew longer as she worked. Food. Water. Spare cloth for bandages. A small knife for cutting rope or wood or anything else that might get in her way. The essentials. Nothing more. Traveling light had kept her alive for centuries. She saw no reason to change now.
A knock came at the door.
She paused, her hand hovering over a small pouch of dried herbs. The knock was not loud, but it was firm, the kind of knock that expected an answer. She set the pouch down and straightened her back.
"Come in," she said.
The door creaked open, and Sein stepped inside. The young priest leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between concern and frustration. He did not say anything at first. He just stood there, watching her pack, his eyes following her hands as they moved from item to item.
Frieren did not stop. She continued her task, folding a spare tunic and placing it carefully into her bag.
Sein finally spoke. "Are you seriously going alone?"
Frieren did not look up. "Yes," she said. Her voice was calm, matter of fact, as if the answer was obvious.
Sein pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step into the room. "You should not go now," he said. "Going alone would be dangerous. Nobody is willing to go with you at this hour. Maybe you should wait for Stark, or until the weather improves, or until we have a better idea of what we are actually dealing with."
Frieren shook her head. She tied the strap of her bag and pulled it tight. "I have to go as soon as possible," she said. "After what happened yesterday, I am afraid of what might happen next."
Sein blinked. He stared at her for a long moment, his mouth slightly open, as if he had just heard something that did not make sense. "Afraid?" he repeated. "You are the mage who defeated the Demon King alongside Himmel's party. You have fought creatures that would make grown soldiers weep. You have seen things that would break the minds of lesser adventurers. What are you afraid of?"
Frieren stopped packing. She looked at him, and for a moment, her expression softened. Just a little. Just enough for Sein to notice.
"Of something inevitable," she said. "And I must eliminate it before it can escalate."
Sein frowned. "You are being too paranoid. You should stay here with Stark. He needs people around him. He needs someone to watch over him in case his condition changes."
Frieren turned back to her bag. "I cannot. I let Fern down, and I must do what needs to be done."
Sein threw his hands up. "You are so adamant." He shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. "Annoying brat."
Frieren looked at him again, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I am older than you, you thirty something brat."
Sein's eye twitched. "I am not thirty something. I am twenty seven."
Frieren tilted her head, as if doing the math in her head. "That is still over a millennia younger than me."
Sein sighed. The sound was long and heavy, the sigh of a man who had run out of arguments and was now running on pure stubbornness. "That is not the point," he said. "You are acting like a child. Running off on your own without telling anyone where you are going or when you will be back."
Frieren shook her head slowly. "No, Sein. It is because I have seen so much that I am acting like this. You do not understand. You cannot understand. You have not watched the people you care about grow old and die while you stay the same. You have not made mistakes that cost lives and then had to live with those mistakes for decades."
Sein fell silent. He looked at the floor, then at the wall, then back at Frieren.
"So there is nothing I can do to stop you," he said.
Frieren did not answer. She just kept packing.
Sein reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it with a small spark of magic, the tip glowing orange in the dim light. He took a long drag, let the smoke curl out of his nostrils, and nodded to himself.
"I see," he said. "Well, then you are not going alone."
Frieren paused. She looked back at him, her hand still resting on her bag. "What?"
Sein shrugged. "I am coming with you, elf."
Frieren stared at him. Her expression was blank, but there was something behind her eyes, something that looked almost like confusion. "Why? You said yourself that Stark needs you. You are the only one who can monitor his condition properly. If something happens to him while you are gone, you will never forgive yourself."
Sein took another drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. "You need me more than he does," he said. "I am more useful than you think."
Frieren looked at him as if he were some brat who had just announced he was going to stay up past his bedtime. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed together. "No," she said.
Sein did not flinch. He did not argue. He did not raise his voice. He simply turned toward the door, his cigarette still burning between his fingers.
"I was not asking," he said.
He walked out and shut the door behind him. The wood creaked, the latch clicked, and then there was silence.
Frieren stood there, alone in the dim light of the cabin, her bag half packed, her thoughts scattered. She stared at the door for a long time, waiting for it to open again, waiting for Sein to come back and say he was joking. But the door stayed closed.
She let out a long breath and ran a hand through her silver hair.
"Kids these days," she muttered.
She shook her head and went back to packing. But her movements were slower now, less certain. She kept glancing at the door, as if expecting Sein to change his mind, to come back and admit that he was not serious, that he was just being dramatic.
The door did not open.
Frieren sighed again, louder this time. She had traveled alone for most of her life. She had crossed mountains and deserts and frozen wastelands without a single companion. She did not need a priest following her around, asking questions, getting in the way, slowing her down.
But Sein was not wrong. Not entirely. The road ahead was dangerous, and having someone to watch her back, someone who could heal her if she got hurt, someone who could offer a second pair of eyes when the darkness closed in, that was not nothing.
She tied the last strap on her bag and lifted it onto her shoulder. The weight felt familiar, comforting. She had carried this bag across half the continent. It had seen more of the world than most humans ever would.
She looked around the cabin one last time. The bed where she had slept. The chair where she had sat. The table where she had eaten meals with people she barely knew but had somehow come to trust.
She walked to the door, placed her hand on the latch, and paused.
"Twenty seven," she said quietly. "He is twenty seven. I am not calling him a brat."
───✧───
At the gates of the village, Frieren walked and saw three figures waiting for her. The snow had stopped falling for the moment, but the ground was still white, and the air was cold enough to turn breath into small clouds. The village gates stood open behind them, two wooden doors reinforced with iron bands that had seen better decades.
Sein stood with his baggage slung over one shoulder, a worn leather bag that looked like it had traveled further than its owner. A thin trail of smoke rose from the cigarette between his fingers. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but his eyes were alert, watching the road ahead.
Kraft stood beside him, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his posture calm and steady. He did not shiver. He did not stamp his feet to keep warm. He simply stood there like the cold was a distant concern that did not apply to him.
The young cheftess stood in front of them both, her small frame wrapped in a thick coat that made her look like a lump of wool with a face. She bounced on her heels, partly from the cold and partly from the energy that seemed to live inside her.
Frieren approached, her boots crunching against the frozen ground. She carried her staff in one hand and her bag in the other. Her silver hair moved gently in the wind, catching the pale light of the morning sky.
The cheftess ran toward her and stopped just short of crashing into her legs. She looked up, her cheeks red from the cold, her eyes wide.
"Frieren sama! You are really leaving?" she asked. Her voice carried the kind of disbelief that only a child could produce, as if the idea of someone choosing to walk away from her village was personally offensive.
Frieren looked down at her. The girl's coat had slipped off one shoulder, and she pulled it back into place without seeming to notice. Her braid had come loose on one side, and strands of hair stuck out at odd angles.
"I must," Frieren said. "I see no other good option at the moment."
The cheftess frowned. She crossed her arms, which made her look like a very small and very annoyed owl. "But you just got here. You did not even stay for dinner. I made stew. The good kind with the thick gravy."
Frieren's expression did not change, but something in her eyes softened. "Another time," she said.
The cheftess did not look convinced, but she nodded anyway. She stepped back and stood beside Kraft, her arms still crossed, her frown still firmly in place.
Kraft spoke. His voice was low, thoughtful, the voice of someone who had spent a long time thinking about things that most people never bothered to consider. "I can do nothing to stop you," he said. "The thing which has happened is unprecedented." He paused, looking out at the white hills beyond the gate. "I wonder what the Megami is thinking. Why would she create such a paradox?"
Frieren nodded slowly. "Exactly," she said. "I need answers. And if possible, a solution."
Kraft turned to look at her. His green eyes were calm, but there was something behind them, a weight, a history that he did not often show. "Well, I am not going to stop you. But remember, if something happens to you, Fern and Stark will be really upset."
Frieren looked down at the ground for a moment. The snow had been trampled by dozens of boots over the past few days, leaving a messy pattern of tracks that led in and out of the village. She traced one of the lines with her eyes, following it to the gate, then beyond, to the road that disappeared into the white distance.
"I know," she said.
The cheftess stepped forward again, her small hand reaching out to tug at Frieren's sleeve. "Good luck," she said. Her voice was softer now, less demanding. "Come back, okay? I will save you some stew."
Frieren looked down at the girl. She reached out and patted her head, a gentle touch, quick and light. "I will try," she said.
The cheftess smiled, nodded, and stepped back to stand beside Kraft.
Sein took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out through his nose. The gray cloud drifted up and disappeared into the cold air. He looked at Frieren, then at the road, then back at Frieren.
"You done?" he asked.
Frieren turned to him. Her expression was flat, but there was a hint of annoyance in the way she held her shoulders. "You are the one tagging along," she said. "Do not act like the leader here."
Sein grinned. It was the kind of grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing and did not care what anyone thought about it. "I am the mature adult here, elf."
Frieren's eye twitched. "I am over a millennium old."
Sein waved his hand dismissively, the cigarette still burning between his fingers. "But in elf terms, you are still a kid. A teenager, maybe. A very old teenager, but still a teenager." He poked his own chest with his thumb. "Me? I am a full fledged adult. I do counselling in the church. I vote in local elections. I have strong opinions about the best way to fold a fitted sheet."
Frieren stared at him. "What is a fitted sheet?"
Sein paused. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "You know what, that is not important right now. Let us just move."
He turned and started walking, his boots leaving deep prints in the snow. His bag bounced against his back with each step, and the smoke from his cigarette trailed behind him like a thin gray ribbon.
Frieren watched him go for a moment. Then she shook her head and followed.
The blizzard had not returned, but the wind was still strong, pushing against them as they walked. The snow on the ground was deep in some places and shallow in others, forcing them to pick their steps carefully. The road, if it could even be called a road, was little more than a track that had been packed down by years of travelers. In some spots, it was barely visible beneath the fresh snow.
Sein walked ahead, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his breath coming out in short puffs. He did not complain. He did not ask how far they had to go. He just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, steady and determined.
Frieren walked beside him, her staff tapping against the ground with each step. Her silver hair was pulled back, tucked under her hood, but strands of it escaped and whipped across her face in the wind. She did not bother to push them away.
The village shrank behind them, the wooden houses turning into small shapes, then into specks, then into nothing. The world around them became a stretch of white and gray, the hills rolling away in every direction like frozen waves.
Sein glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "So," he said, "are you going to tell me where we are going, or are we just walking until we find something interesting?"
Frieren did not look at him. "North," she said.
Sein blinked slowly. "North. That is specific."
"It is a direction."
"It is a very broad direction."
Frieren shrugged. "We will know when we get there."
Sein sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette, then thought better of it and put it back. "You are an annoying brat," he said.
"I have been told that before," Frieren said.