The Gathering Storm

The mountain path through the Ofgarber Peaks of the Imperial Territory, like a gray-white, old scar, winds its way into the dark green mountainside.

Sparse, hardy shrubs stubbornly sprout new green shoots in the biting spring chill. The wind carries the dampness of melting snow and the earthy scent of soil.

The villages along the road were small, with low stone houses, exuding a ruggedness and desolation unique to this remote place. The few villagers scattered around were wrapped in thick clothes and hurried along, a stark contrast to the bustling markets of the south.

The group moved forward in silence. Lowell suddenly let out a very slight "Hmm?" without stopping. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and a hint of doubt flashed in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as an illusion.

"What's wrong, Master?" Lupa instantly caught the subtle change. Her pink twin ponytails froze in the wind, and her heterochromatic eyes sharply swept towards Lowell.

Her voice was low, tinged with the wariness characteristic of a warrior. "You said that Himmel and his men are about to successfully defeat the Demon King, and that we've come to this border village to prepare to welcome him... Has something gone wrong with this 'future'? Or... is there some other situation?"

Lowell turned his head, gave her a slight smile, and waved his hand. "Um... nothing. Don't overthink it, it's nothing." He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and added casually, "By the way, Lupa, you're on watch tonight."

Lupa paused slightly.

It wasn't surprising that there was no inn in the village, but in the past, on nights spent sleeping in the wilderness, it was usually Lowell's magical clones who kept watch. He always said things like, "Keeping watch won't help you improve; you need to sleep well to grow," so why today...? But she had an almost instinctive Obedience to Lowell's commands, and after only a slight hesitation, she immediately nodded. "Okay."

Frieren, who had been lost in thought, looked up at Lowell, her emerald eyes glancing at him. Raising an eyebrow, she mimicked Lowell's tone and said, "Isn't it always your doppelganger who keeps watch? Saying things like, 'This kind of repetitive work won't help you improve, I'll do it, you need to sleep to grow.' What's wrong with you today? Have you changed your ways?"

Lowell choked for a moment, a fleeting hint of embarrassment crossing his face, then, as if annoyed and ashamed, raised his voice slightly, with a hint of sophistry:

"I... I want to! Is that not allowed? We haven't come across a decent village in so many days. I'm just feeling lazy today. I want to have a hot meal and then get a good night's sleep. I don't want to be distracted by maintaining my clone anymore. Is that not allowed?"

Frieren looked at him quietly, her emerald eyes like two deep pools of water, clearly reflecting Lowell's slightly guilty expression. She mercilessly exposed him. "Your lying skills have declined; even I can tell."

"I... well, never mind, let's just leave it at that." He waved his hand somewhat awkwardly, ending the conversation, and turned his gaze to a fruit stall next to him, as if trying to distract himself.

Frieren didn't care; to her, it was just a change in the person on night watch, nothing serious that needed to be investigated further.

The young male fruit vendor was chatting loudly with someone at a neighboring stall. His voice was loud and clear, and the conversation was nothing more than mundane matters and market prices—nothing out of the ordinary.

Linié's deep blue eyes swept across the stall, settling on the basket of bright red apples. She quietly walked over and pointed, "Linié wants apples."

The vendor turned around, revealing a face no different from any other vendor's, but with a slightly ingratiating, fawning smile, "Oh! Okay, miss! How many do you want? My apples are the best for miles around, very sweet!"

Linié didn't answer, but simply turned to look at Lowell.

Lowell stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the vendor's face for a moment. His smile was gentle, but his tone left no room for argument. "I'll take them all. That way you can close up shop earlier and spend more time with your family." His words were ordinary, yet they seemed to carry a subtle, unspoken meaning.

The vendor's face showed no sign of surprise, but immediately lit up with delight. He nodded and bowed repeatedly, saying, "Oh! Thank you so much, esteemed guest! You are so generous!" He quickly and carefully packed all the apples on his stall into a rough burlap sack, handed it to Lowell, and his fingers seemed to tremble slightly with excitement as he took the money.

In the evening, guided by the villagers, the group moved into an abandoned hunter's cabin on the edge of the village.

The wooden hut was simple, but it was enough to shelter them from the wind and rain. Frieren practically fell asleep the moment she touched the straw-covered "bed," her breathing even. Linié also lay down quietly, her deep blue eyes slowly closing in the dim light.

Of the five people, only these two seemed to be asleep.

Lupa, clutching her spear, sat leaning against a decaying wooden pillar on the porch. Her heterochromatic eyes clearly reflected the outline of distant mountains in the deepening night, showing no signs of sleepiness.

The wooden house had poor sound insulation; conversations in the adjacent storage room could be faintly heard.

Lowell's voice held a hint of helplessness. "... Why aren't you asleep yet?"

Solitär's voice was ethereal and melodious, filled with undisguised excitement. "Don't joke around~ Although I didn't sense any magical fluctuations or hostility... the atmosphere is so interesting, judging from your tone, there's clearly going to be a good show. How can Solitär sleep?"

Lowell clicked his tongue lightly. "Tch... I really can't fool you perceptive folks. Well, even Frieren could tell something was off about me, so it's not surprising that you noticed too."

His tone became more serious. "But even you didn't notice anything amiss? It seems that, as expected, this kind of person is a natural nemesis for mages who rely heavily on magical perception. Solitär, if you were to encounter them alone, you might actually be caught off guard and silently eliminated."

Instead of being afraid, Solitär let out a low, expectant laugh, "Oh? There really is something that can bypass Solitär's senses and might even kill me instantly? Hmm... Of course, I'm not so arrogant as to think that no human can kill me... but it really is... something to look forward to."

Lowell paused for a moment, then spoke again, his voice carrying a complex emotion:

"Look, in times like these, warriors who survive by honing their senses and instincts to the extreme are the key to dealing with this kind of attack. Compared to mages who rely heavily on magical perception, the instinctive intuition for danger honed by warriors in life-or-death situations is far more reliable. I've done my best to teach her, even though she's still young..."

Solitär drew out her words meaningfully, "Oh? Let that child deal with... a danger that could kill even Solitär? And deliberately without giving any warning? It seems that even the Demon King Lord occasionally reveals... a cold cruelty inherent in the Demons race."

Lowell didn't deny it, but responded softly, almost to herself, "Perhaps, but I have to do it. She'll have to face it sooner or later."

The night grew deeper. The mountain wind whistled softly through the cracks in the dilapidated wooden house.

All was silent; only darkness was silently spreading and gathering.

A mountain rain is brewing.