First Meeting with Serie

(A flashback: I wrote two chapters yesterday, but when I woke up this morning I realized I hadn't saved them. They're gone... My two long chapters are gone... I rewrote them, and I knew something felt off, sob sob. I wasted two hours. Where's that crying emoji I was using?)

Serie's residence.

The main hall was extremely spacious, with a floor paved with smooth, mirror-like dark stone slabs.

The flames Burning quietly in the lamps on the wall, casting flickering spots of light.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, densely packed with scrolls and classic texts.

At the far end of the main hall, atop several steps, sits a large throne.

Serie was deeply seated on the throne. Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto the armrests. On her delicate face, her equally golden, slanted eyes were half-closed, revealing her usual weariness and aloofness.

She wore only a simple white robe, the hem of which hung down, her bare feet delicate, one ankle lazily draped over the other leg, the toes slightly hooked, exuding a feline casualness and control.

After bowing, Flamme waited quietly.

Frieren stood to the side, her emerald eyes fixed on the throne, her face expressionless.

Lowell stood on the other side, her eyes calm beneath her black hair.

Serie looked at Lowell.

Lowell looked at Serie.

Serie looked at Lowell.

Lowell looked at Serie.

Serie looked at Lowell.

Lowell looked at Serie.

The air seemed to freeze, with only the faint crackling of the flickering flames. An invisible string quietly tightened in the silence.

Frieren blinked, seemingly finding the silence rather long, but remained quiet.

Flamme remained motionless, maintaining her pose.

Finally, Serie, sitting on the throne, broke the silence first.

Her gaze fell on Lowell:

"Demon King, Lorenz?"

Lowell showed no surprise, merely shrugging his shoulders with a resigned "I knew it" tone. "The former Demon King. I've lost that name and position. Now, I'm called Lowell."

Upon hearing this, Serie did not respond immediately. She slowly and completely closed her eyes, as if feigning sleep.

After a dozen or so breaths, she reopened her eyes, her golden pupils gleaming with interest.

"Interesting. There are outcasts like you among the Demons?" She chuckled softly, her bare feet lightly touching the ground, and a surge of powerful magical energy emanated from her, carrying an undeniable fighting spirit. "Never mind... those trivial matters are unimportant."

She curled the corners of her lips into her signature, villainous, and slightly wicked smile:

"Play with me."

Lowell sighed, looking at Serie's "come and fight me!" expression, and sighed helplessly, "... Fine, let's fight. But it's a deal, just this once. I'll try not to disappoint you. You can't force me to fight you again in the future."

Serie raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So quick to agree? The you I 'saw' was trying every trick in the book to avoid fighting me."

"Because what I 'see' about you is that you're destined to fight this battle no matter what." Lowell's tone was calm, as if stating a given fact. "If you can't avoid it, you might as well save your breath. I have no choice but to accept it, don't I?"

"Oh? Future Sight?" Serie's interest grew even stronger.

"Aren't you the same?" Lowell retorted, his tone casual, almost conversational. "Speaking of which, what would it be like if two people who Future Sight fought? You predict my predictions, and I predict yours? And then I predict yours, and I predict yours again? An endless nesting of predictions?"

Serie chuckled softly, a hint of nonchalance in her voice. "Who knows? But there might not be time to use this kind of magic during a battle."

Lowell rolled his eyes inwardly. He knew very well that the precognitive magic Serie possessed wasn't limited to just "Prophetic Dreams." She hadn't "transferred" many of her precognitive spells yet. However, he also knew that Serie herself didn't particularly enjoy using Future Prediction magic; otherwise, she would have known she was coming to see him. Moreover, she naturally enjoyed the unknown and thrill of battle itself.

Serie finally shifted her gaze from Lowell to Frieren: "So, Flamme, who is this little elf girl?"

Flamme raised her head, her tone respectful yet natural. "Master, I believe she possesses extraordinary potential, perhaps even qualifying her to reach the pinnacle of magic and have the chance to defeat the Demon King. Moreover, she is an elf like you, so I brought her here for you to see."

Serie's gaze swept over Frieren.

A moment later.

"Tell me the magic you desire. Any magic will do, as long as you can describe it, and I can bestow it upon you." Her tone carried the arrogance unique to geniuses, as if all magic in the world were mere playthings in her hands.

Frieren's expression remained unchanged, her voice steady and calm. "No need."

"Huh?" Serie uttered a slightly surprised syllable.

"The greatest pleasure of magic lies in the process of exploring it itself," Frieren stated, her clear, bright green eyes sparkling.

Serie remained silent for a moment, her gaze lingering on Frieren's expressionless face for a brief instant before turning to Flamme and concluding, "Flamme, this child will amount to nothing."

Flamme smiled slightly, not arguing, but simply following the conversation and asking, "Who knows, Master? How have you been lately?"

"?" Serie frowned almost imperceptibly, a hint of disdain flashing across her face. "You think I'm bad? And when did you learn to say such boring things? You never used to say such pointless things."

"Lowell taught me that," Flamme said casually, even with a hint of teasing. "He said things like 'care for empty-nest elderly,' which I think makes a lot of sense."

Serie's gaze immediately swept towards Lowell, her eyes revealing obvious displeasure, as if her peace and quiet had been disturbed by a clumsy joke.

"Boring." She waved her hand, as if shooing away unpleasant flies, refocusing on her original purpose, and lightly stamped her bare foot. "Enough of the chit-chat. Lowell, fight me."

"Alright, let's do it." Lowell nodded resignedly, turning towards a passageway on one side of the hall. "Let's go, find a spacious, secluded spot. I can't afford to damage your precious collection of books."

"As you wish." Serie stood up and walked out of the hall first.