Seeing Serie Again

At the top of the Oysast Tower, time seemed to flow exceptionally slowly.

Serie's room was less a dwelling and more a sanctuary filled with books.

The towering bookshelves stood like silent guards, densely packed with countless scrolls and tomes recording magic, stretching to the horizon. In the center of the room, the throne stood majestically.

Serie was still wearing that simple white robe that looked like loungewear. She half-closed her signature slanted eyes, which were filled with a hint of weariness and sharpness, and her gaze, like the most precise probe, slowly swept over the five people standing in front of her.

Lowell, Frieren, and behind them Lupa, Linié, and the newcomer Solitär, who was looking around at the bookshelves with pure curiosity.

A long silence followed, broken only by the distant sound of the wind outside the tower, filtering through the tiny cracks in the crystal window, bringing a faint sob.

Serie's gaze finally settled on Lowell, and she spoke, her voice cold and flat, like a block of ice thrown into a seemingly calm lake:

"Since only a few of you came," her slanted gaze seemed to quickly sweep over Frieren before returning to Lowell's face, "So the heroes this time are all dead, are they?"

Lowell's usual languid smile faded slightly, replaced by a perfectly measured, regretful sorrow. He sighed softly, his voice low and resolute:

"Yeah. It's unfortunate, including Ruby, they're all dead. Sigh... That Discal guy seems to have gotten a lot stronger, I can't beat him."

The moment the words left her lips, Serie trembled very slightly. Although she quickly regained her composure, that fleeting stiffness did not completely escape the keen eyes of the few people present.

"Is that so? You're still learning and need more experience. You fool, you're just a human apprentice I took on on a whim." She said in a seemingly indifferent tone.

Just then, a soft, suppressed laugh, like a kitten choking, came from the side. "Pfft..."

It was Frieren. She quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, but her emerald green eyes curved into crescents, and her shoulders shrugged slightly, clearly amused by Serie's forced composure.

The faint sound was exceptionally clear atop the silent tower. Serie's gaze, like a cold arrow, instantly pierced Frieren. A sharp glint flashed in her slanted eyes, and then, as if understanding something, she abruptly turned her gaze back to Lowell's face, her voice carrying a hint of icy anger:

"Lorenz," she called out the ancient name directly, her tone dangerous, "You're lying to me."

Caught red-handed, Lowell touched his nose, showing no remorse whatsoever, but instead revealing a mischievous, slightly wicked smile, "Ahem, alright, she's not dead. She'll probably be successfully defeating the Demon King soon; we've just parted ways a little earlier than planned."

He shrugged, his tone relaxed, "I just wanted to see what kind of amusing expression you'd make if you thought you'd lost your precious disciple."

Serie's chest heaved slightly, but she quickly regained her ever-present, slightly mocking calm. She scoffed, "Foolish. Humans will die sooner or later, it's just a matter of a few decades. I have many disciples, one more won't make a difference."

She shifted her gaze from Lowell, as if even looking at her was too much trouble, and fixed it on Lupa, who stood nervously. "So, what brings you here? Is it this little girl..."

She looked at him with a hint of scrutiny. "Trying to kill Qual? If it were her, she wouldn't be qualified."

Lowell picked up the conversation, his tone returning to its previous casualness. "Just passing through, and popped in to see an old friend like you. And by the way..."

He pointed to Linié, who was standing quietly to the side, and then gestured to the smiling Solitär beside him, his tone tinged with pride, "Look, I'm doing a pretty good job 'babysitting' here, aren't I? Linié has already integrated well into the group, and there's the newly joined Solitär too. They're both Demons girls, see if your babysitting skills are as good as mine."

Serie frowned almost imperceptibly, seemingly extremely averse to the idea of "taking care of children." She coldly retorted, "I've already said, I'm not taking care of children."

She seemed unwilling to continue this pointless banter with Lowell, shifting her gaze from the group to the distance ahead. Then, she raised a hand and casually pointed in a direction below the tower, her tone indifferent, carrying an air of dismissal:

"Go see it yourself if you want."