Sein

The man, named Sein, scratched his hair, which was still speckled with mud. "By the way, although the village will be very busy during the Harvest Festival, I can still find some time. I must treat you all well as a way of repaying your life-saving kindness."

"Okay, thank you very much for your kindness." Fern bowed slightly politely. "We'll find a hotel to settle in first, and visit you again later."

The village is small, and the only inn is located on the edge of the square. It is an old wooden structure. The paint on the exterior walls is a bit peeling, but the sign hanging at the entrance is relatively clean.

Pushing open the slightly heavy wooden door, a smell mixed with old wood and a faint dust wafted out. The reception desk was empty, and a few well-worn wooden tables and benches were placed in the small hall next to it.

Fern sniffed lightly, her pale purple eyes sweeping across the dimly lit hall, her small mouth pursing almost imperceptibly. Although she wasn't particularly aristocratic, her innate love of cleanliness made her instinctively feel a slight resistance to her surroundings.

Lowell noticed her subtle expression, smiled, and casually used a small amount of magic to dust off the surface dust on the bench beside her, comforting her, "It's alright, look at Frieren's quite clean too, she didn't complain."

He pointed to the side. Frieren had already strolled over to the window with an indifferent expression, wiped the windowsill with her finger, then looked at her fingertip, blinked, and casually rubbed it on her hand, as if to confirm that the "dirtiness" here was still within an acceptable range.

"Tsk." Fern clicked his tongue lightly, said nothing more, turned and walked to the cleanest-looking corner, and began taking things out of his bag. "Anyway, let's tidy up a bit first. Lord Lowell, please bring out some clean bedding."

"Okay." Lowell responded, and with a slight movement of magic, several sets of soft and clean bedding appeared on the bench beside him.

As Fern deftly changed the slightly stiff, soap-smelling old bedding in the inn, he seemed to remember something and asked, "Speaking of which, Lord Lowell, why does it seem that only powerful mages or people with strong magic can enter your Alternate Space Magic, and even then, they can't stay for long?"

Lowell, who was helping her make the bed, didn't stop when he heard this and casually replied, "Well... although people often say 'magic is a world of imagination,' the extent to which it can be realized still depends on the spellcaster's own talent and magical attributes. Just like some people are naturally affinity-for-water, while others are good at controlling fire."

He paused, smoothed out one corner of the sheet, and continued:

"I am Demons, so my alternate dimension is essentially closer to the environment of the demon realm in mythology... well, the Demon Realm world. Although I personally would prefer to make it more beautiful and peaceful, it just won't work. The attributes are incompatible, just like I haven't learned Flower Field Magic yet. So naturally, it carries an aura that is not very friendly to ordinary living beings. Those whose magic power is not strong enough will have their life force slowly eroded if they enter."

"Well, I can't really explain the principle," he shrugged. "Just like how people can swim without understanding buoyancy—it's kind of an instinct—I don't understand why we can only rely on magic to withstand it; Defensive Magic and the like are useless."

"It's not necessarily true that you can't learn them. For example, Serie is said to have mastered almost all the magic in human history, but there are some types of magic that she doesn't know, such as Ewig magic, Demons magic, or Goddess's Magic."

"If I were to force myself to invent that kind of magic, I could definitely do it in a few hundred years, but it's not really necessary, the cost-effectiveness isn't high, and I'm too lazy to do it."

Fern nodded thoughtfully, neatly folded the old bedding, and placed it aside. "I see. So if your alternate dimension has these properties, if you encounter a powerful enemy, as long as they're not a mage, you can just throw them into your alternate dimension and let them fend for themselves, right?"

Lowell raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a hint of teasing. "Your thinking... you're quite talented in this area. Theoretically, it's feasible. However, firstly, my space is crammed with all sorts of treasures collected by Frieren, our daily necessities, and food reserves. Throwing an enemy in there would just mean they'd perish along with all the treasures, wouldn't it? Secondly," he said casually, "It seems I haven't encountered any opponents that require this method yet. If someone can't even beat me, they probably have the ability to forcibly break out of the space. So, this method isn't very practical."

"I see." Fern nodded gently. "I understand. Well then, I'll wash these used bedding by the river later."

Frieren blinked and whispered, "You could have easily cleaned it up with water magic, couldn't you?"

Fern immediately looked at her, his tone calm yet firm. "Frieren is here again. Items must be cherished and carefully maintained to last. Magic is convenient, but doing some things yourself is also a way of respecting the items. Besides, last time you tried to save time by using fire magic to quickly roast a piece of meat, but you couldn't control the heat and wasted a large piece of top-quality Lion Boar."

"Hmm..." Frieren's eyes darted around, her fingers unconsciously twisting the corner of the old bed sheet she had just taken off. Her voice lowered, "I'm sorry..."

After settling in briefly, the three headed towards the church in the center of the village, following the directions Sein had given them.

The church looked even older than the hotel, with dark vines climbing its stone walls, but the stone steps in front were very clean. As they went inside, sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting dappled yet soft glows on the stone floor.

Inside was a stern-faced priest—who bore a resemblance to Sein, probably his brother—who, with a pained expression and a barely perceptible "this is trouble" look, spoke to a pale-faced villager sitting on a bench:

"... It's too late, there's no saving her. Judging from the symptoms, in about an hour, the toxins will erode the brain, and then the brain tissue will gradually liquefy... Eventually, it will all flow out of her nostrils, and by then it will be too late to save her."

The villager's voice trembled with fear. "No, no way... I... I was just bitten by an insect I'd never seen before in the forest!"

Upon hearing this description, Fern and Frieren, standing nearby, both let out a soft "Ah!" in unison. Fern instinctively covered her mouth, her pale purple eyes widening slightly; Frieren blinked, their hands clasped together involuntarily, trembling. They were both terrified by the somewhat frightening description, looking rather adorable.

"That's... that's terrifying..." Fern whispered, her voice tinged with anxiety, "Is there really no way to save him?"

The priest shook his head gravely. "This toxin is extremely rare, and treatment is only effective within a very short time after the bite. I can't help you now. If my brother Sein were here, he might be able to... but he went out to gather herbs early this morning and should have been back by now. It's probably too late to go find him now. I'll arrange for someone to help you look for him..."

Just then, a small door leading to the inner room behind the priest creaked open. Zain, now dressed in a clean, though simple, but much neater, priest's Sein, emerged, carrying a... ridiculously small "basin" that could barely cover most of his palm.

Sein looked at the "washbasin" in his hand with a helpless expression. "Brother, I know we're poor and need to be thrifty, but isn't this new washbasin a bit too small? How am I supposed to use it?"

The priest, without changing his expression, replied solemnly, "Frugality is a virtue, and it starts with small things. It reminds us to cherish every drop of water."

Sein held up the miniature washbasin, both amused and exasperated. "Only our family could be so frugal as to have a washbasin smaller than a saucer, right? Brother, this is clearly over the top; it's completely impractical. This should be called 'performance art'..."

He looked at the "washbasin" in his hand, then at the three people, Lowell, who had just entered, and his face showed a mixture of embarrassment and "You're here, now be the judge."