An Encounter with Someone

Time flows like a gentle stream, slipping silently through our fingers, and in the blink of an eye, nearly two hundred years have passed.

For immortal beings, two hundred years may just be an interlude in a long life, but it is enough to quietly change many things.

Flamme spent far more of her life as "Flamme" than she had anticipated.

Lowell and Frieren continued their journey together, their footprints covering the entire continent. Their travels were leisurely, often lingering in scenic or interesting places for years, even decades, as if time were merely an ever-expanding landscape along their roadside.

Frieren's magical skills improved day by day. She liked to collect all kinds of strange and wonderful magic, especially those folk magics that seemed useless but were full of whimsy. In Lowell's portable space, which could be described as a mobile treasure trove, there were already a lot of areas specially set up for her to store odds and ends.

Her temperament seemed unchanged; she remained uninterested in most things, but had a slight fondness for magic and desserts. However, she had become increasingly familiar with Lowell, as natural as breathing.

Occasionally, a faint, subtle tenderness would flash across her emerald eyes, a tenderness she herself was unaware of, especially when Lowell went out of his way to find her new flavors of desserts and all sorts of random magic.

Lowell, on the other hand, had completely adapted to this "retired" life. He had already perfectly concealed all the characteristics and aura of Demon King, and his appearance had also been slightly adjusted, making him look more like a human traveler with a unique temperament and a slightly lazy demeanor.

He still disliked trouble and would rather lie down than stand, but he never neglected to take care of Frieren. Their relationship, after two hundred years of living together day and night, had developed a unique tacit understanding, like two parallel streams that seemed independent but were actually intertwined and inseparable.

On this day, they came to a hilly area adjacent to a forest with a wide view. It was early summer, the sun was shining brightly, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the air was filled with the fragrance of grass and wildflowers.

Lowell, a sweet grass stalk dangling from his mouth, walked slowly with his hands behind his head, his gaze casually sweeping over the faint outline of the village on the distant horizon. Frieren followed beside him, her long silver hair shimmering in the sunlight, her emerald eyes focused intently as she flipped through a newly acquired "useless" magic book.

Suddenly, Lowell stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and the blade of grass he was holding ceased swaying.

"What's wrong?" Frieren looked up almost at the same time, keenly sensing the change in his aura in an instant. Their long-term interaction made her extremely sensitive to Lowell's emotional fluctuations.

Lowell gazed towards the distant village, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, his tone grave. "Over there... the fluctuations in magic... it's Demons."

Frieren closed the book. "Strength?"

"Not particularly strong, roughly... equivalent to a relatively elite level among Demons. But more than enough to deal with an ordinary human village." Lowell spoke faster, "Let's go, let's go take a look!"

Without another word, the two figures instantly transformed into two blurry afterimages, sweeping across the grassland at a speed far exceeding that of ordinary people, and rushing towards the village.

The closer they got, the clearer the faint smell of blood became. When the horrific scene of the village came into full view, even they fell silent for a moment.

The once peaceful village has been reduced to ruins. Thatched roofs have been torn off, wooden fences are askew, and the ground is covered with potholes and scorch marks. Even more horrifying are the corpses of villagers lying haphazardly on the ground, men, women, and children, all in gruesome deaths, their blood soaking into the soil, attracting flies to buzz around them. The atmosphere of despair and death is so thick that it is almost impossible to dispel.

In a small open space in the center of the village, the scene was even more jarring.

A tall, humanoid Demons with grayish-blue skin, wearing simple leather armor and two horns on his forehead stood there. He had several minor wounds on his body, which were slowly healing. He grinned, revealing a cruel and satisfied smile, and his scarlet tongue licked the dark red marks left on his claws.

Beneath his feet lay the lifeless corpse of a human male. The man was dressed in hunting attire, clutching a broken longsword tightly in his hand. His body was covered in wounds, clearly indicating that he had fought a fierce battle but ultimately succumbed to his opponent.

Just a few steps in front of the Demons, a little girl who looked to be about ten years old sat slumped on the ground. She had messy white hair, her face was covered in blood and dust, and her golden eyes were wide open, filled with extreme fear, sorrow and... an almost empty stillness. She only had a few scratches on her body, as if they had been deliberately left for last.

"Die, even though you're full, but..." He reached out and grabbed the little girl's throat.

However, he didn't finish his sentence.

"Call out!"

The air shrieked as it was torn apart by the extreme speed!

Lowell appeared before him without warning! His speed was beyond the limits of visual perception!

The Demons didn't even see how Lowell moved; he only felt a cold, iron-like hand precisely grip the wrist of the little girl he was about to grab! At the same time, Lowell's other hand formed a blade with its fingers pointing like a knife, and dark purple magic condensed into a thin, yet incomparably sharp blade of light, which swept upwards with a sharp whistling sound that tore through space!

"Pfft--"

The dull thud of a sharp blade slicing through flesh.

The Demons's head separated from its neck, its face bearing an expression of disbelief and astonishment. The head flew high into the air, its crimson pupils rapidly dimming. The headless body swayed, then crashed heavily to the ground, and like a burst bubble, began to rapidly turn into ashes and dissipate, ultimately leaving only a small patch of charred marks on the ground.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Frieren arrived just then, standing beside Lowell, staff in hand. Her emerald eyes calmly scanned the surroundings, confirming that there were no other threats.

Lowell didn't even glance at the vanished Demons; his gaze fell on the white-haired little girl.

The little girl seemed stunned by this sudden turn of events. She stared blankly at Lowell, then at her father's cold body on the ground. Overwhelming grief and despair washed over her once more. Suddenly, she burst into tears, her voice hoarse and broken, carrying a heart-wrenching accusation:

"You... Waaah... You... You should have come sooner! Why are you so late! Dad's dead! Everyone's dead! What good are you now?! Why did you save me?! Why?!"

She cried out, her small body trembling from the violent sobs, tears mixed with blood, leaving two deep furrows on her dirty little face.

Lowell looked at her grief-stricken, even resentful, expression, a hint of understanding crossing his face. He suddenly straightened his expression, his tone becoming serious, even carrying an exaggerated scrutiny and a trace of anger:

"Hey, you little brat, I saved you and you still say that? You're really ungrateful! So... I see! I understand! It must be that damned Demons magic that possessed an innocent little girl, taking over your body, trying to use you to bewitch me? Take this punch!"

As he spoke, he actually raised his fist, as if to strike the little girl's face! The force of his punch was fierce and carried a terrifying aura!

The little girl's crying stopped abruptly at the sudden turn of events. She instinctively closed her eyes tightly, tears still clinging to her long, golden eyelashes. Her body stiffened with fear, but she didn't flinch, as if waiting for some kind of release.

However, the expected pain did not occur.

The fist stopped abruptly just an inch from her nose.

Lowell's "anger" vanished as quickly as ice and snow melting away, turning into a barely audible sigh. He withdrew his fist and looked at the girl in front of him, who had her eyes tightly closed, trembling like a frightened little animal, yet with a resolute look of wanting to die. His eyes were filled with complex emotions.

"... Just kidding." His voice lowered, carrying a gentleness completely different from his earlier jest, and... a hint of barely perceptible weariness. "Little girl, I'm sorry. If I had really thrown that punch, perhaps it would have been what you wanted, allowing you to be free immediately and go find your parents... but..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the hellish village, his voice carrying a calm born of experience. "In that case, I've lived in vain all these years. How am I any different from those Demons who treat life like dirt?"

He crouched down, bringing his gaze to the little girl's level, and tried to soften his voice. "You've lost everything, you want to die, you want to go find your mom and dad, right? I understand that pain; I've been through it too. But, little girl, think about it. Your dad and mom risked their lives to protect you, hoping you could live well. They definitely want you to cherish your life, to live well for their sake, and to love yourself, right?"

The little girl kept her eyes tightly closed, but her body trembled less, while her tears flowed even more profusely.

Lowell reached out and gently wiped away the tears and stains from her cheeks, his movements unusually tender. "This Demons is very strong, not just an ordinary soldier. The wounds on his body were inflicted by your father, weren't they? Your father was a true warrior, a hero who fought to the last moment to protect his home and loved ones. He fought for Human race. Don't you want to inherit his will? Don't you want this land, for which he gave his life, to have fewer tragedies like this in the future?"

He looked at the little girl's slightly trembling eyelashes and continued in a tempting and encouraging tone, "My name is Lowell. I'll teach you to fight, to become strong, strong enough to protect yourself, and perhaps even others in the future. How about it? Would you like to call me 'Master'?"

The little girl finally opened her eyes slowly. The immense sorrow in her golden eyes hadn't dissipated, but within the empty stillness, a faint spark of hope seemed to flicker. She looked into Lowell's deep, sincere eyes, then at her father's peaceful yet cold face beside her. Her lips trembled, and tears welled up again, but this time, her sobs contained less despair and more resentment and... a faint glimmer of light.

"I... I... I'm sorry..." she sobbed, her voice weak and barely audible. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said those things to you... Waaah... You saved me... Thank you... Thank you... It was my fault..."

She sniffed hard, as if using all her strength, looked at Lowell, and called out with a sob in her voice, yet with unmistakable clarity:

"Yes... Daddy is a warrior... Freya... Freya wants to be a warrior too... Master...!"

The last two words, carrying both dependence and resolve, echoed clearly in the deathly silent village.

Lowell smiled gently and reached out to carefully and softly pick up the little girl named Freya. The little girl buried her face in his strong shoulder, and the sobs she had suppressed for so long finally burst forth, no longer screams, but a loud wail filled with grievance and lingering fear.

Frieren stood quietly to the side, her emerald eyes calmly observing the scene. From Lowell's instantaneous slaying of the Demons, to his peculiar way of testing and comforting her, and finally to his acceptance of this disciple, her face showed no obvious fluctuations in expression. However, deep within her profound emerald eyes, extremely subtle ripples seemed to spread, reflecting the profile of Lowell holding the weeping girl, and the ruins tinged with a poignant red by the setting sun, as she prepared to deal with the aftermath.

Lowell gently patted Freya's back, letting her tears soak his shoulder. He looked up at the sky where the blood-red color was fading, then at Frieren beside him who was silently helping to clean up the mess, and sighed softly.

Yet another child whose home has been destroyed by war and Demons...

Well.

Flamme was the progenitor of human magic, making humanity powerful enough to surpass the Demons. But after that Demon King... Discal, everything changed.

But what could I do? Defeat him? And then what? Even if I destroyed the Demons, what then? In that world without Demons, did Human race ever experience true peace?

I'm so tired.

But this time, perhaps he can do something, at least plant a seed called "future" in the ruins for this girl named Freya.

However, with a little burden in tow... the rest of the trip is likely to be quite eventful. He glanced at Frieren, who was also looking up at him, her emerald eyes still calm, yet seemingly saying, "Whatever."

Lowell smiled helplessly. "Fine, raising one is the same as raising two. Anyway, there's still a long way to go."